There is no such thing as gender segregation in Islam. That statement by Sheikh Ahmed al Ghamdi, published in the Saudi newspaper Okaz in December, sparked a controversy, not least because the sheikh is the head of Mecca’s Commission to Promote Virtue and Prevent Vice, better known as the religious police.
And earlier this year, the poet Hissa Hilal received death threats for criticising ad hoc fatwas and hardline religious figures. Although she didn’t mention any religious figure by name, it was assumed that she was criticising Sheikh Abdul Rahman al Barrak, who had issued a fatwa saying that anyone encouraging the mixing of the genders was “an infidel” who “must be killed”. As most people know, Mrs Hilal went on to take third place in the Million’s Poet competition.
The irony is that Sheikh al Ghamdi is being condemned by his own establishment and defended by a poet. Mrs Hilal, who criticised the religious establishment, is in turn condemned by common people. The role of the religious police to keep people in check may be changing, but ordinary citizens are increasingly dictating what is right and wrong in society.
Since the Riyadh compound bombings in 2003, the role of the religious police has been diminishing. A Saudi shop attendant once told me: “Their days are over since the terrorist attacks.” Since then I have noticed that not many people bother me about not covering my face in Mecca.
It also seems their power has been further undermined with the sidelining of conservatives in recent reforms. Yet, it will take much longer for members of Saudi society to change their own views.
Coincidentally, last year during my trip to Mecca to perform Umrah, King Abdullah announced the appointment of the first female deputy minister in Saudi Arabia. Paradoxically, on my way to the Holy Mosque that day, I was handed a leaflet that basically compared men to dogs and women to pieces of meat (fresh meat ready to be snatched by a drooling, hungry dog, to be specific). I thought it was sadly hilarious, insulting to men, women and humanity in general.
Religion is supposed to elevate humans from their barbaric and animalistic instincts to ensure justice and peace in society. However, this “Islamic” leaflet justified sexual harassment and placed all the blame on women. Interestingly, the leaflet was not printed by the government, but rather by individuals who wanted to promote their own idea of morality.
Later that evening, a man followed me to a shop and lectured me about covering up, and then offered me the same leaflet. I thought I was dressed properly in a loose abaya that could easily fit a person twice my size.
I tried to refuse politely and told him that I had already read it. He became agitated, asking how could I have read it and still not be covered “properly”. He glared at me and said: “You live in darkness and you are going to Hell.” At first I though he was from the religious police, but apparently he was just some random person.
Later that evening after prayer, a woman who had been praying behind me started a conversation with my sisters and I. She began lecturing us about our abayas, which were decorated with colourful embroidery on the sleeves. She told us that abayas should be entirely black to avoid attracting men.
Although I didn’t agree, I didn’t argue because it would have been a waste of time and I respected that it was her belief and she meant no harm. However, she went on to lecture a group of Kuwaiti women who were wearing plain abayas, telling them that they should wear their abayas over their heads in the style of a chador, as apparently vague glimpses of their silhouettes were visible. Another random person.
The power of the religious police may have somewhat curtailed, but choices made by the Saudi government over the past century has fostered hardline religious control. Society itself will act as the moral and religious police, a mindset that will take a very long time to change.
The woman that lectured us and the men handing out leaflets seem to have forgotten that Islam is based on interpretation, tolerance and respecting differences. The religious police, or at least Sheikh al Ghamdi, seemed to have adopted some of that flexibility.
The problem is not with religion or the teachings of Islam per se, but rather how the human mind works. We assume that because we have the “moral high ground”, we are entitled to judge.
That sense of overblown righteousness is certainly not limited to Saudi Arabia. You do not have to look far afield to see world powers going to war over democracy, the “right” form of government. In general, if you don’t follow the definition of morality that is handed down to you by those in power, then you are condemned.
Not that simply following orders makes someone more moral. Those who benefit at the end of the day are those who decide what is moral and humane, not because they are necessarily right, but because they bestow upon themselves a sense of self-righteousness. In this system of judgement we are taught to be constantly guilty, and if we have a clear conscious it seems we are automatically guilty for not feeling guilty.
A Saudi friend from Riyadh once told me how she is lectured to cover her face. One of her sisters, who covers her face, is lectured because she doesn’t wear a her abaya on her head. And her eldest sister, who wears her abaya in the style of a chador and a niqab, is told to cover her eyes. She concluded: “Apparently, nothing is good enough because in their minds, we are all going to Hell anyway.”
-Courtesy- Islamonline.com