Shalmani is pro-liberty, pro-women, and anti-ignorance. There were parts of this book that I greatly appreciated. Unfortunately for me, my feminism is of a different strain, and I am not the francophile I used to be. In this book, France is the great saviour, the Promised Land, the world of liberté, égalité, and fraternité, and secularism--laïcité--is the only SANE and INTELLIGENT option for a free country.
I disagree. On the one hand, Shalmani talks about how people should be believers in the home and citizens in the street; on the other, she abhors the wearing of the veil, saying that it is an imposition upon women and their bodies, which should be theirs to control. In other words, no one has the right to impose the veil on people (agreed), but the State should be allowed to force people to downplay or hide their religion? No one's ever been able to convince me that this is as free-thinking as France likes to think it is. Having been raised American Southern Baptist, and having left my native South, to some degree I do understand the extreme frustration with religion that an intelligent woman might have after escaping Khomeiny's Iran, but I think that pinning all of society's problems--and especially the problems of women--on religion is too easy. I think it's possible to be feminist and Muslim. (And to be fair, Shalmani doesn't always do this: ignorance is the main problem, she says. And, oh, yes, both religious men and atheists can be ignorant.)
The other thing that really bothered me was a sentence I discovered early in the book, coloring the rest of my reading. After idolizing the openness and intelligence of her father, she begins like this: "Je ne milite pas contre les hommes, je milite contre les barbus. Contre tous les barbus. Et les corbeaux aussi. Je dois trop à mon père et à mon grand-père pour leur faire l'injure de croire que tous les hommes sont des barbus." Good so far. Les "barbus" are religious men, specifically Muslim (bearded), who are small-minded and dictatorial; she's not against all men, just those. "Corbeaux," or crows (because of their veil and their black dress), are the women who follow the bearded men, who make their life work the suppression of other, freer, women (i.e., "whores"). So, ok--anti-smallness. But then she follows this (and ends the chapter) with, "Mais il y a toujours chez la femme, la tentation du corbeau." What the hell...? In all women is the temptation to become a crow. You can't just say something like that and disappear. How is a sentence like that any different from also suppressing and degrading women? Men are just as likely to be small-minded idiots as women are, no?
The sentence is an unexplained anomaly, really. Shalmani loves women, wants to liberate them from the domination of men, tradition, etc. Her feminism is the feminism of the sexual revolution, of love of the female body, of Slut Walks, of wearing heels and skirts and lipstick to assert that she is not apologetic for who she is--that she can be both female and an intellectual. The equivalent of the woman whose picture I saw on the internet after the recent shooting in Santa Barbara, wearing only underwear and with the words "Still Not Asking For It" painted across her torso. Shalmani is essentially reacting against Islam's notion of the female body as fitna--a stumbling block that causes men to sin and that must, at all costs, be shrouded in fabric for the protection of the unsuspecting public. It makes sense that this is the femininity she's chosen. I just worry sometimes that women don't seem to notice that baring all in a gesture of liberty still plays to the male gaze--still plays to a male-dominated worldview. Why does Beyonce need to be braless and provocative to say that women run the world? It's for the profit of the men who produce, watch, and buy (and who still reduce so-called liberated pop icons like Beyonce, Madonna, and Lady Gaga, to the sum total of their body parts). Is there some way to own our femininity, and to be intelligent and content... but for ourselves? Of course, there is a range of feminisms, stretching from feminist (veiled) Muslim to Shalmani's beloved 18th-century courtisans. What mostly bothers me here is that Shalmani really only seems to validate her own version.