Two Weeks in Hejab

The first woman I saw in hejab was leaving Iran as we were about to enter. She wore a long-sleeved jacket, almost to her knees, trousers and a headscarf—just like me.

We came out of immigration into Iran, and met our guide—at the last minute our female guide had been replaced by a male. I was disappointed as I needed to chat with another female about my clothes. It was only when the guide pronounced my outfit was ok according to hejab, that I was able to relax.

Our first overnight stay was at a town with a martyr’s shrine. The streets were teeming with crowds of people—most of them were pilgrims to the shrine, many were from other Islamic countries. Iranians are Shia Muslims. This means that foreign pilgrims to religious sites in Iran are from countries like Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait and these people have darker skin than us. Many women wore—predominantly black--chadors. As the three of us—me with my husband and the guide-- strolled along the streets, people stared—women would nudge their companions so that they could look too. Was something wrong with my clothes? The guide reassured us, ‘They are staring because you look so European.’

Chadors were obligatory when visiting the Imam Reza’s shrine. One of the volunteer ‘clothes police’ (a man dressed in a suit and carrying a feather duster) came up to me and asked me to adjust the chador when too much of my grey hair slipped into view.

About 60% of women wore chadors all over Iran, when the law ‘only’ requires headscarf, long-sleeved knee-length shirt, and trousers. Not only that, but almost all the chadors were black. I asked the guide, ‘Why black?’. His wife had told him it was because black is the colour which suits most women. I could not imagine lots of women planning what to wear, thinking, ‘I’ll cover myself with a sheet, and black will be the most flattering colour’.

I bought a large sized man’s shirt in the bazaar to supplement the one I had brought from home. Then in a town renowned for its textiles, I saw some pretty cotton blouses. The ones I liked were not hejab, the hejab ones I would not wear at home. No sale. How about one of those nice ponchos? My forearms would be uncovered but I could purchase arm covers (long handless gloves) to wear with them. The poncho was sewn down the sides of the body and looked a lot like a chador! The image in the looking glass resembled a human sized caterpillar.

The sales assistants were all men, in women’s clothes shops—even in lingerie shops. No women seemed to work in shops, or in the stalls at the bazaars. There were barber shops, but in 2 weeks I didn’t see a women’s hairdressing salon. When you wear a headscarf except in the privacy of your hotel room, your hair becomes flattened, you don’t need to carry a comb, and earrings are superfluous.

Despite the restrictions, many young women manage to look attractive in hejab, with flowing coloured tops, co-ordinated scarves showing some hair, slim trousers and high heeled shoes. Men’s and women’s hair was thick, shiny and black. The women’s hair was mostly hidden from view.

The temperatures during our visit were in the high 30s and low 40s centigrade. When travelling in the car, I often undid the scarf around my neck and held it open to allow some airflow.

A program was on the television in the hotel lobby one day. Our guide explained, “The people being interviewed are remembering when women’s hejab was made illegal in the 1930s.” (It was reintroduced in 1979) All the people giving opinions were elderly—but none of them were women.

The days of our visit to Iran came to an end, and as we waited at Immigration for the exit stamps in our passports, I fiddled with my headscarf which had slipped a bit. ‘Don’t take it off yet!’ warned my husband. No, I didn’t take it off. I waited until we went through the road barrier into Armenia. Then I removed that annoying piece of fabric and felt the cool breeze on my head.

What is the change I would have made if I could? I would change Iran from being a religious state and allow women in that country to wear clothing of their choice.

Dianne Ryan November 2013