I had a dream a few years back that I was among a community of Muslim women.  I was dressed for winter and had a thick, knitted scarf around my neck.  When the time came for evening prayers, the women in the cliffside city took off their headscarves (beautiful, white, flowing) and waved them in the air as they made praise to Allah through ululating calls.

I was so moved by this in the dream that I took off my knitted scarf and attempted to use it in the same way.  It waved, but not as beautifully as the scarves of the other women.  Still, in some way, I felt a part of their community.

There's more to the dream, but the point of sharing this particular portion of one of my more transformative dreams is to introduce a thought-provoking piece about Muslim women, written by a Muslim woman.  The author, Fatemeh Fakhraie, wrote in the website, Altmuslimah--Exploring Both Sides of the Gender Gap--that forming opinions about the relative liberation of Muslim women based on dress or external examinations of life experience is as oppressive to a Muslim woman as any form of paternalism.

As a moderate feminist, I found her article challenging and humbling.  I must admit that nearly every time I have seen a woman wearing a head scarf, burka or other type of conservative Muslim dress--especially if that woman was walking with a man in western dress--I felt pangs of anger, pity and an urge to challenge the couple's choices.

These reactions began a slow change in recent months when I read an article and viewed a video about a young Muslim woman in London who is trying to capture both the spirit of honoring faith with conservative dress and the spirit of honoring youth with design details that cross cultural lines. After viewing the video, I started to realize that there are many Muslim women who dress as they do not because they are bullied or inculturated to do so (or at least, not merely so) but because they are expressing an outward allegiance to the God they love and serve.

So, to my western eyes, what looks unfair (she has to dress conservatively and in a "foreign" manner while he doesn't) may be something else entirely.  I am overlaying my own struggles in our western patriarchy onto a stranger about whom I know very, very little.

The most powerful part of Fakhraie's argument comes from her plea to allow Muslim women agency in their individual paths to "liberation."  She points out that liberation looks different from woman to woman (and man to man, one supposes).  To define freedom for other people, without recognition of cultural norms and the slow path that change naturally travels, is to deny those individuals their own voice and their own choice.

While I do think that there are suitable times where we need to be a "voice for the voiceless"--times of apartheid or genocide--I agree that for the most part, the most effective changes come from within. 

In the case of women wearing scarves, I will make the choice to remember my dream of the beautiful praises the dream women sang using their headscarves to express joy and set aside my assumptions about paternalism and helplessness.  In this way, I will affirm my community with both the women of my dream and the women of our shared world.

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