The protests in Iran are about more than the hijab itself – they’re about women’s right to choose

It’s hard to think of a piece of clothing more politicised than the hijab. All over the world, the physical symbol of a head (or face) covering is used to exert control over women’s bodies – whether that’s the banning of burkinis in France, the prohibition of hijabs in parts of India or the enforced covering at the hands of the religious police in countries like Iran.

This week, the situation in Iran has escalated dramatically as women have taken to the street to protest against the state-mandated codes of modesty enforced by the regime upon all women. These have been spurred on by the case of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini, who died in police custody after being arrested for allegedly flouting the country’s strict dress code. The authorities claim she had a heart attack whilst in custody, although her family have raised concerns that she was beaten by Iran’s so-called “morality police” (per BBC News).

As Iranian women mourn the death of a young woman who was targeted by police just because her clothing didn’t conform to the regime’s heavily politicised standards of modesty, and as they express their resolute anger at the state’s chokehold on their autonomy, things have turned deadly with at least twelve people reported to have been killed and countless more detained (via BBC News).

Social media has been awash with striking images of Iranian women burning their hijabs in huge bonfires and shaving their heads online – often retweeted thousands of times, especially by prominent feminist voices in the west expressing their support. Many Muslim women around the world have lent their solidarity to their Iranian sisters fighting for the right to determine their own standards of modesty, even including some conservative women in Iran who have historically supported the Islamic Republic’s government, but now see the current unrest sweeping the country as a significant moment that must lead to change.

As a Muslim woman who wears the hijab, it might seem incongruous for me to support Iranian women in their plight. After all, why would a woman who herself chose to wear the hijab condone the idea of someone burning the very garment I wrap around my own head each day as a symbol of my faith and identity? But that’s the point. I was in a position to choose to wear the hijab. Each day as I leave the house, I get to decide for myself if my clothes match my own internal barometer of modesty – one that I feel comfortable with. Crucially, not one mandated by a government made up of men. Besides, for Muslims, the word “hijab” is part of a code of modest and respectful behaviour that applies to both men and women – the physical article of a head covering is only one element of this. 

Even if I believe that I should cover my own head and body, that doesn’t – and shouldn’t – make us favour the idea of a state harassing, imprisoning and potentially murdering those who think otherwise.

It’s vital to see these protests in the Iranian context specifically. A political regime clings on to power in every single way it can. I spent the summers of my teenage years in Libya under Gaddafi’s autocratic regime, and I saw how it governed every single aspect of my Libyan family’s lives to the point that it muffled them from speaking out even in their own homes. Power makes leaders paranoid, and parochial and women’s bodies are the first targets because we are so historically and structurally disadvantaged across the globe. Take, for example, the erosion of bodily autonomy in America with the overturning of Roe v Wade.