It was in 2015, when Rabina Khan was standing as an independent candidate in the Tower Hamlets’ mayoral elections, that a male voter asked her what colour her hair was under her veil. She said it was pink. He smiled, so she smiled back adding, ‘Not really, it’s green.’ This interaction sparked the writing of an article, which developed into a talk at the University of Cambridge and grew into her first book.
My Hair Is Pink Under This Veil reveals how a Muslim woman reconciles her faith with British culture to construct a successful political career against a backdrop of blame, bias, ignorance and misogyny – including from her own community. It shows how the hijab has become a symbol of the modern Muslim woman’s personal style and strength.
Khan’s book challenges outdated views about Muslim women and shows that Muslims often identify more strongly with Britain and British values than most other British citizens. It explores misconceptions regarding Islam, inequality and integration, at a time when Britain faces its own issues with radicalisation, extremism and political divisions.
While quite educational on the many forms of discrimination that Muslim women face, Ms. Khan could have shortened her work by merging related and repetitive topics into single chapters. I also found contradictions. For example, on the topic of hatred toward minority groups, she says that, "...it is not enough just to tell people what they can and can't say, because that does not change how they feel; we must educate people..." (true). But then, "At the same time, it's essential that we implement a zero-tolerance policy toward any form of hate speech...". Unfortunately, many people would not know what WORDS constitute hate speech unless they're told explicitly what those words are, which amounts to telling them what they can't say. To do otherwise would be to overestimate human nature. Also, a few pages later finds Ms. Khan stating, "We must move the focus away from people's obsession with Muslim women's clothing and what it means, and instead recognize the immense fortitude they have shown in rising above Islamophobia and discrimination to lead fulfilling and successful lives." I understand her frustration - - it must be tiresome to have to answer questions over and over again; and the ideal is that Muslim women would be recognized for their positive attributes as readily as any other person. But perhaps sharing the meaning of wearing hijab promotes understanding amongst non-Muslims, planting the seed of curiosity to learn more.
DNF. As a white American non-Muslim woman currently living in a Muslim country, I was so excited to read this book and learn from it. I was disappointed in that I find that Ms Khan repeats herself on multiple subjects many times over, and is also a bit contradictory. Honestly, I felt a bit like I was being preached to. I’m so glad that books like this are out in the world; I just found this one repetitive and frankly, a bit boring. After numerous moments of picking this book up and trudging through a few pages, I decided not to finish. I have asked myself if I didn’t like this book because it pushed my buttons or because I disagreed with parts of it, and I think I can honestly say that neither of those is the reason I didn’t finish.
Not being British or very informed on British politics, I had never heard of Rabina Khan before, so I started reading this book (which I received as a present) with not much information on what I was going to read.
It is an essay written by a hijab-wearing Muslim woman born to Bangladeshi parents who migrated to Britain in 1975. The book shares personal experiences from her life; reflects on diversity and making choices; confronts the reader with the need to take action before Islamophobia; and relates some political statements which had immediate consequences on her or her community.
Regardless of whether one ends up agreeing with her or not in some of her statements, I found extremely interesting how this book made me reflect on different issues, and, thus, I would recommend this book to everyone.
Part of it feels very "British-only-situations", but a large part of it does not, like the importance of role models or of a press which is fair in the way it relates stories.
I missed references to the many studies the book mentions, and it is a pity, for they would have been easy to add as footnotes.
książka o byciu polityczką i muzułmanką w wielkiej brytanii. w książce jest bardzo dużo powtórzeń i ciężko się ją przez to czyta. nie byłam też pewna, czy książka mi się spodoba, ponieważ większość polityków denerwuje mnie swoim przekonaniem, że są najmądrzejsi na świecie, ale autorka wydawała się być na prawdę zaangażowana w swoją społeczność i na pierwszym miejscu działaczką, słuchającą innych ludzi i ich potrzeb, a dopiero później polityczką, co bardzo doceniam. myślę też, że w książce bardzo dobrze wytłumaczyła kwestie tego, jak islamofobia łączy się z seksizmem i że przez to jest bardzo ważną lekturą, potrzebną wielu białym feministkom.
Es indudable que la autora ha vivido y vive en un ambiente racista donde ha tenido que hacerse fuerte y darse a valer...Pero es una pena que no haya sido capaz de criticar y analizar su propia cultura como analiza y crítica "a la sociedad blanca". Por empoderarse frente a una sociedad racista y machista, hace unos análisis muy poco críticos de su cultura y pone como positivos los matrimonios concertados o el hecho de llevar el pañuelo en pos de una "modestia" muy mal interpretada. Alabo su espíritu de lucha, pero creo que le hace falta un análisis de los errores de su propia cultura
I feel like it should be a requirement for anyone running for office to write up at least 200 pages about themselves and issues they hold dear. These would not be professional writers, so I don’t expect masterpieces, but it’s really important to get a detailed idea of where they are coming from. If this lady is running for office in your district, please at least skim the book. For everyone else, this is a valuable perspective of what it’s like to be a Muslim woman wearing a hijab in Britain. There may be other books out there, similar memoirs, but the title of this one tickled me, so it’s the one I actually read.
As a book, it’s got a lot of problems. While the prose is great, very readable, the overall structure is completely lacking, there’s a LOT of repetition, there’s no consistent theme to the chapters, nor progression in the “story” with a climax or anything like that. It felt like an extremely long opinion piece usually found in a newspaper. The main value of reading this book is the perspective. Muslim women are probably the most marginalized minority out there, because on top of the explicit racists and the implicit racist biases, even liberals find fault with them and their veils. I don’t know much about the topic, but it seems to me to be the ultimate example of intersectionality; whereby being both a woman and Muslim is treated worse than the “sum” of both. I picked up this book because I knew I also was not fully comfortable with the veil, and reading Rabina Khan’s perspective helped a lot understand the motivation of a modern British woman choosing to keep wearing this “symbol of oppression”. Basically, it comes down to a combination of wanting to stay connected to your cultural roots, actually being proud of your own faith, and a genuine sense of modesty.
The amount of vitriol and abuse that she describes from just living in England is truly astounding, and it’s obvious from her story that she’s not some kind of unlucky exception. I don’t know where people find it in them to be that nasty. But despite this, she manages to remain not only a good person, but also actively trying to improve the lives of others in her community. I would definitely vote for her if I had the chance.
That being said, I don’t think I’ve been entirely persuaded about the fact that wearing a hijab and niqab is a “personal choice”. I mean, obviously it is, the individual woman gets dressed in the morning and decides for herself that she wants to wear a veil, and it’s certainly not that there’s a husband or father ready to beat her into doing so. But the author seems to have missed the role of societal pressure in Muslim communities in enforcing the decision, even when she describes it happening before her eyes. The way I see it, whatever people wore in their own homes alone during the COVID lockdown is the ultimate expression of what complete personal choice in clothing represents. Everything we put on when we go out (notwithstanding sportswear and winter gear) is at least somewhat dictated by others’ expectations. So when a woman wears a hijab in western cultures, or viceversa doesn’t in Muslim countries, then she is explicitly identifying whose opinion/culture she values more. And unfortunately, that’s kind of a signal of not belonging to the same cultural group. She writes "our choices are a sign of individuality, not statements of 'separation and difference' [...] a comment that sparked anger among the Muslim community". I really wish she would have explained more, because to me it still seems that way. She talks about how elders from her culture would give her disapproving looks when she went without a veil, and clearly Britons were even more disapproving when she went with. By going with the veil, she is acceding and assimilating more the opinions of her family and friends. Evidently, it's not like wearing a veil is like wearing a football jersey, trying to indicate what team you root for, but the more subtle pressure of who you are trying to please more.
I certainly don’t think her choice is wrong. Cultural uniformity is a recipe for disaster, and we should all practice tolerance for different ways of living; it’s quite arrogant to think your own cultural background is the only right way of doing things. But I can still see why many people would feel some degree of hostility towards what they see as an open disregard for their own (host country’s) cultural norms. It’s a silly example, but I understand why Swiss people don’t like it when Italians keep arriving late to appointments, I would just prefer to be friends with people who can just shrug it off as a cultural difference.
But after taking out the hard-core racism, and even the mild xenophobia, there is still something a little problematic about the Muslim veil, and reading this book was not able to change my mind about it: the double standard for men and women. Unfortunately, this exists in pretty much all cultures, where women’s dress gets policed more, as the author mentions, but “whataboutism” is not really a good argument. And even if it were left standing, the most serious dress codes would be the obvious starting point in trying to address this inequality, and there’s not much out there that’s more severe than the niqab and burqa. Government bans on dress code are patently stupid, not only from the blatant islamophobia that fuels it but they are also demonstrably counterproductive. But I do think that it would help Muslim women in the long run to phase out of feeling the need to cover their hair and faces, when the same expectation is not put on anyone else. Women and men are different, we have different bodies, and so it makes sense that different cultural norms develop. But to completely hide the body of one group? I just don't get it.
The author celebrates how the COVID-19 pandemic has inadvertently brought more tolerance towards the niqab, and certainly it's great that the irrational islamophobia behind burqa bans is now obvious to everyone. But calling it hypocrisy that governments went from face-covering bans to face-covering requirements is dangerously missing the point of crisis management. From law enforcement perspective, especially in a country where there are cameras everywhere, being able to see everyone’s faces is the more secure policy. It just so happens that COVID-19 was capable of doing a lot more harm than any individual bad actor, so priorities shifted. Likewise, I’m pretty sure in Ukraine it was very illegal to go around with automatic weapons prior to Feb 24, 2022, but once Russia invaded it’s practically mandatory. To be clear, I don’t in any way think niqab-wearing women were ever a security risk, and governments should have definitely figured that out before instituting such bans. I don’t think it’s outsiders’ place to say what others wear, much less the government. But I still think it’s a sad thing, for a woman to feel like she should hide her face when her brother doesn’t have to and no one else in society does, even if it is fully her choice.
Overall I enjoyed this book. I found it very interesting, thought-provoking and it raised numerous good points about what it means to be a Muslim woman in Britain. While there were a few points I disagree with (I never heard anyone claim using toilet paper is unhygienic and found the argument pretty ridiculous) I think the overall message that all women deserve the right to do and say whatever they want applaudable. I would've liked to hear more about how religion also intersects with sexuality and gender through the inclusion of LGBTQIA+ Muslims whose perspectives were notably absent from this book. If the author made a second book I think that would definitely be a great undiscovered area to delve into. Overall a good read.
An autobiography by Bangladeshi-born British Rabina Khan. Khan is a women of many talents as well as being a writer she has run for Mayor of Tower Hamlets, served as a cabinet member for housing in Tower Hamlets council, been councillor for Shadwell and much more. She is a pretty badass women who also happens to be Muslim. The book is a bit repetitive and lacking in structure in places but overall I really enjoyed it and I learnt a lot. It is written in a very personal way which means that you really feel a connection to the author and her story. So that allows quite difficult and complex issues to be discussed in a very accessible way.
"May Hair is Pink Under This Veil" is a memoir and an eye-opener for non-Muslims and non-South Asians. I, being Muslim and South Asian, could relate on some level. It challenges anything and everything that has to do with prejudice in this day and age. Highly-recommend it.
An interesting perspective on Muslim women's experience in contemporary Britain, and also the 1970s Britain that Rabina Khan grew up in. I found her political experience particularly interesting because she was a councillor in the borough I live in as well.
Its a shame that the book is very repetitive, it keeps reiterating the same points, sometimes even using the same sentences, and could have been half the length.
The core messages are articulated well: the hijab (and niqab and burqa) should always be a choice Western interpretations that women are forced to wear the hijab is massively overblown, typically relying on racist and sexist tropes, and these e interpretations seep into public policy in a manner that undermines civil liberties, perhaps best embodied by France's racist and draconian ban on the niqab and the burqa.
One slightly cringe-worthy moment was when Khan highlighted the Netherlands as a particularly egregious example, because of its liberal drug policy. She questioned if it's fair that a person carrying a personal supply of drugs would be treated more lightly by authorities than a person wearing a niqab, asking the rhetorical question of 'who the bigger threat to society is?'. The answer, of course, is neither individual, but this slight moralistic tangent undermined her wider argument on civil liberties, instead she should have pointed out the Dutch government's hypocrisy rather than demonstrating her own.
The book also lost its way a bit at the end, taking on a wider and wider scope of a general polemic on society instead of focusing on the hijab. Again, it could have been shorter and equally compelling.
I don’t really think I’m the right audience for this book as the tone and explanations of how Rabina Khan’s life experiences and observations of Muslim women in general seem to be addressed to a white person. That’s not a bad thing, but I thought that there would be a bit of humour and anecdotes that would be more relatable. Rather, I found the contents of this book to be quite messy as it’s not really a memoir, nor is it a socio-political analysis of Muslim young/women in Britain. I found it difficult to remember what the chapters are about, so there were some structural challenges whilst reading this too. There’s also some repetition which really affected the flow of the book.
I wanted to like this book - perhaps my expectations were too high for eye-opening insights. Unfortunately I found it a bit of a slog and barely finished. The subject progression was random and repetitive and I struggled to understand the main points, though I do feel I've gained a better understanding of the forms of Muslim headscarves.
As a brown woman, this book spoke to me on many levels. This book is like an inner voice for many muslim women living in the uk. The experiences she went through brought a tear to my eye genuinely. Love this book and plan on reading it again!
I read this after Nadiya Hussein posted about it for world hijab day on instagram. It is a bit repetitive in some places, and I didn’t agree with some minor things, but it was definitely an interesting read.
I came across this book in an independent bookstore in north London, and I fall into the (rather nice) trap of judging a book by its cover. So first thing first I reckon that the cover of this book deserves a massive shout out. Aesthetics aside, this book is a collection of essays where the authors draws from her own experience as a Muslim, hidjab wearing British politician of colour. Overall, the book was a truly enjoyable read, and I am rather surprised why I didn’t come across it in chains or more mainstreams bookshops. It is an essential read in today’s Britain and Europe more generally as Muslim women are more often than not spoken about but never spoken to, as if they are not mentally equipped to be part of the conversation, this book is just the antidote to that. It is smart, sharp, and skilfully written. If I have only one criticism towards this book, it would be around the fact that it gets a bit repetitive at some point. One example that comes to my mind is that the majority of Muslim women CHOSE to wear the scarf and it is not imposed on them, but perhaps this is a valid and rather useful repetition as we can never repeat this enough!
I recommend this book to anyone who knows very little about Islamic culture. As someone who is well versed in the culture, this book was not for me. I found it boring and repetitive, as well as a little dogmatic in places. I get what Khan was trying to do, I just don't think I was the right audience.