The concept of secularism in France – and the challenge it entails – can be well understood by looking at the list of students at the Paul Eluard Institute, in Saint-Denis, on the outskirts of Paris. Of the nearly 200 that appear inscribed on the lists visible at the entrance, there are surnames of all origins and cultures.
It’s just before nine in the morning and they form groups: girls with veils and loose clothing get together with others who are wearing jeans and tank tops or tops. Narimene adapts her clothing before entering: she removes her veil and instead of her a kind of wide white ribbon is placed over her hair. “It’s not an abaya, it’s a kimono,” she warns about the tunic that covers her body, open at the front. “If they force me to take it off, I’m going home,” she challenges.
The veils fall this Monday at the door of this institute in Saint-Denis, one of the areas of the Parisian periphery with a large part of the Muslim population. It is back to school day and everyone is paying attention to the students’ clothing, after the Government banned the abaya a few days ago, the long female tunic typical of many Muslim countries.
The Government considers that it is a religious sign (the Muslim Council disagrees) and, therefore, contrary to the value of secularism. This is one of the pillars of the Republic and guarantees that religion does not interfere in the functioning of the State. In school this translates, in addition to the neutrality of the teachers, in that there can be nothing in the student’s clothing that reveals his religion.
“It is French-style secularism. For me, it is that everyone’s religion is accepted, but here what they do is reject a large part of the French population, those of us who are Muslims,” ??says Tania, 15 years old, who does not She is not wearing an abaya, but rather a closed tracksuit and a veil.
“It is not a religious dress. Furthermore, I do not understand why “mariage pour tous” (marriage between homosexuals) is more normalized than wearing a long dress or a veil,” protests this teenager, born in France, to a French mother and father. Algerian.
Next to her, her friend, also French but of Cameroonian parents, is not a Muslim but also thinks that “it is an unfair decision”. Another 15-year-old girl named Soukaina says she wears this garment often: “when I’m lazy and don’t know how to dress.”
More than 500 centers were on alert this morning and more than 2,000 officials were watching to enforce the rule. “If a student comes with an abaya, they are asked to take it off. They can stay in class if they are wearing something underneath. If not, they have to go home. The rule is strict. Sometimes it is stressful, because you never know how the student is going to react,” explains a teacher who leaves the premises and who prefers not to reveal her name.
In the center, everyone talks about the abaya, but few girls wear them, rather they are substitutes. There is intense debate about what it is and what it is not. It is staged by two Senegalese women, mother and daughter. The young woman is wearing a long white dress with blue motifs. None wears a veil.
“This is a djellaba, not an abaya!” says Nalya, 17 years old.
Mother and daughter burst into laughter. “We had a discussion this morning,” says Anna, the mother. “I am in favor of the ban. I think you have to accept the rules of the country you live in. If what you want is to wear religious clothing and signs, you go to your country.”
His daughter explodes in anger: “But what are you saying! France is Islamophobic. The veil is a religious sign, but not the abaya,” he says.
Adolescent girls, both with veils and without, defend themselves and demand their use as a “comfortable garment.” It is as if there were a kind of secular sorority among them. For example, Lydia, who at first maintains the neutrality of the garment, says: “I bought one, but it is true that I never wore it because I looked Muslim, and I ended up giving it to a friend.”
In France there is a 10% Muslim population. In 2004, a law was passed that prohibited wearing signs or clothing in schools that show religious affiliation. Discreet and non-visible signs are allowed, such as a small cross. The Minister of Education, Gabriel Attal, this Monday even valued the option of “experimenting with the uniform.”
A girl, who says her name is Ibtissane and wears a wide jacket over her pants – borderline – criticizes: “Christians are allowed to wear a cross. There is no secularism in France, because there are religions that are more accepted than others “France looks like Afghanistan, they prohibit us from going the way we want,” he says.
Qamis (men’s clothing) had also been prohibited, but not a single boy wears it.
It is noon and the students begin to leave. Kubra (18 years old, born in France, like her parents, but “of Tunisian origin”) scrupulously places her veil in front of a window. Today she is not wearing an abaya “because it is prohibited”, but last year she did: “They caught my attention, although it was a normal long dress that I had bought at Zara. Studying is like giving up our culture, like in Iran but backwards “, he declares.
Then he rectifies and acknowledges that removing the veil does not cause him a problem: “Yes, it is a religious sign and I understand it, because France is a secular country,” he says.
Narimene, the girl at the beginning of the story who wore “a kimono but not an abaya” and who would go home if forced to take it off, leaves the compound. She does it without a “kimono” and without the ribbon that she had put on her head. She hasn’t gone home either. “The kimono? They’ve kept it,” she says.
Tania, the girl in the tracksuit and the veil, also appears. She speaks with nostalgia of an Algeria in which she has not grown up and where, she is aware, she would have fewer freedoms. “I am here because there is education, health and there are rules, not like in Algeria. They imprison you there and there are no trials. But as soon as I can I’m leaving!” She says.
– But you were born here and you have opportunities… Maybe in a few years you change your mind…
He hesitates, and smiles slightly: “That’s what my brother says. He doesn’t hate this country, like I do. He studies Law because he wants to be a notary, he always justifies France and tells me that the law must be followed here.”
