Because many cover their heads, women are the most visible Muslims. In the United States, the hijab conjures many stereotypes, virtually all negative: For most Americans the headscarf is a sign of male oppression; women who cover have no agency. Their actions are constrained by a misogynous, patriarchal religion that renders them voiceless. This is especially true of opinion in strongly Christian areas of the country, like the Southern Baptist American south, the setting for this engaging film.
As this film opens, Muslim women's “otherness” is well stated by Yemeni-American Hailah, when she recalls an instructor's comment, “People in Alabama are overly confident with ignorance. They think that . . . essentially they think that they know who you are, what you are, and what you should be.” In this restrictive environment, how do Muslim women negotiate their identities?
Voices of Muslim Women in the U.S. South presents the experiences of six women, five students and their instructor at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. The group is varied; two women are American born converts to Islam, one is American born to Muslim immigrant parents, one was born abroad but has spent half her life in the U.S., and two, including the professor, are relatively recent arrivals. Some wear head covers, some do not, and one does, but not always. Despite these differences, outsiders’ interpret or decode the women's lives, usually signaled by dress and demeanor, through the prism of popular if inaccurate interpretations of Islam.
The film uses a simple, disarming interview technique to present the women's voices. The student-interviewee sits in a chair; a white background eliminates any distractions. The student introduces herself; describes her life in general and her experiences being Muslim in a decidedly non-Muslim and largely male oriented society. The students’ remarks are in response to questions, although these are unheard. The ease and reflectiveness of the interviewees is evident immediately. This is a solid indication of the students’ self-confidence and of the rapport they have with their instructor, the film's producer Maha Marouan. Scenes of the interviewees in town or on campus introduce aspects of the women's lives. Periodically Maha Marouan sits in the interview chair to present her interpretation of the students’ identity issues.
The students’ remarks provide insight into how others’ see them. Although I have lived and worked among Muslims in the Middle East and the US for decades, I was surprised to learn that American's perceive Muslims racially as black. A complementary understanding is that whites are not Muslim.
Additionally, typical Alabama students perceive Muslim women as unapproachable and perhaps fear them because of their obvious difference, whether indicated by a headscarf or modest attire and deportment. Likewise language also makes them “others” as in the case of an uncovered Saudi woman whose use of Arabic led to restaurant patrons calling the police.
Being covered also equates with being unseen, as when an instructor told students not travel to the Middle East because they would get their heads cut off even as a hijab wearing student was present. More commonly, dress and head covers render women asexual—an inadequate term, since being seen as sexual has equally negative connotations.
Clearly many of these incidents are reflections of American stereotypes compounded by fears of terrorism. These are not isolated to Alabama. Voices expands upon this interpretation by examining how the self-assuredness of the university's majority white Christian culture puts Muslim women in an ambiguous, uncertain position. (This is most evident with Maha Marouan, whose race and religion is unclear). The film gives clear examples of how each woman negotiates her roles, allowing each to be an independent actor; ultimately, what is extraordinary is the ordinariness of the students’ lives.
Just when it seems there are two worlds coexisting on the campus, the film shifts to the central force tying all the students together, the university's celebrated football team. The Muslim Student Association is located on Paul Bryant Drive, a road named in honor of the legendary football coach. Veiled or not, Alabama students are Crimson Tide supporters.
Faculty might well ask if this short, well-constructed film has a place in the classroom. The answer is definitely yes. Voices reveals that being a Muslim doesn't mean being subservient, silent, or senseless. Muslim women in the U.S. are at least as reflective as other people, perhaps more so because their religion and dress have forced them to confront and negotiate identity issues their non-Muslim peers have not. In the end, they are students like everyone else.
