Western Rescue Narratives Clash With Muslim Women’s Agency Over Hijab

In a recent opinion piece aired by Middle East Eye, writer and Middle East politics specialist Soumaya Ghannoushi confronts a persistent Western trope that equates the hijab with oppression and frames Muslim women as perpetual victims in need of rescue. The video, published on 17 September 2026, unpacks how such narratives not only erase the diversity of Muslim women’s experiences but also impose a paternalistic version of feminism that can become as coercive as the policies it claims to oppose. Ghannoushi’s analysis invites a deeper look at the historical layers of compulsory veiling and forced unveiling across the region, and it challenges the international community to respect the right of every woman—whether she chooses to cover or uncover—to decide for herself without external pressure.

Historical Context of Compulsory Veiling and Unveiling

Ghannoushi begins by reminding viewers that the hijab has never been a monolithic symbol. In Iran, for example, the post‑revolutionary state imposed mandatory veiling, turning a personal religious practice into a legal requirement. Women who dared to appear without a headscarf faced arrest, fines, or worse. This compulsory covering was a clear violation of personal liberty, and it left a lasting imprint on the collective memory of Iranian women.

Conversely, the early twentieth‑century reforms in Turkey and Tunisia illustrate a different form of coercion—state‑driven unveiling. In Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’s secularist reforms banned the hijab in public institutions, effectively criminalising a visible expression of faith. Tunisia, under similar secularist pressures, also limited women’s ability to wear the veil in certain public spaces. In both cases, the state’s attempt to “liberate” women from religious dress codes turned the act of covering into an act of resistance, and it forced many women to navigate a new terrain where personal choice was again constrained, this time by a different ideology.

These historical examples show that the hijab has been used by authorities—whether religious or secular—to control women’s bodies. Ghannoushi argues that any analysis which isolates the hijab from its political history risks simplifying a complex reality into a binary of oppression versus freedom. The lesson, she suggests, is that the core issue is not the garment itself but the presence of coercion, regardless of its direction.

The Western Narrative of “Rescuing” Muslim Women

Ghannoushi points out that Western media and activist circles often frame the hijab as a visual shorthand for oppression, prompting calls for “rescuing” Muslim women. This narrative, she notes, is frequently presented under the banner of feminist solidarity, yet it carries an implicit assumption: that Muslim women are uniformly denied agency and that external actors possess the moral authority to intervene.

Such paternalism, she warns, is “dressed in feminist garb.” By positioning Western voices as the saviors, the discourse silences the very women it claims to protect. Ghannoushi stresses that the rescue narrative rarely asks Muslim women what they actually need; instead, it projects a universalist vision of liberation that may run counter to the lived realities of those women. This approach can be as oppressive as the policies it condemns, because it denies the possibility that many women view the hijab as an expression of identity, faith, or personal choice.

The video underscores that the rescue narrative often ignores the agency of women who have fought against compulsory veiling. In Iran, for instance, women who removed their headscarves in public protests did so as an act of defiance against state coercion, not because they were persuaded by external feminist campaigns. By conflating all forms of veiling with oppression, Western narratives flatten the nuanced histories of resistance and the diverse motivations behind women’s sartorial decisions.

Agency and the Right to Choose

Central to Ghannoushi’s argument is the principle that women should be free to wear or remove the hijab without any form of coercion—whether from the state, the market, or foreign activists. She articulates a simple yet powerful formula: “If she is forced to cover, defend her right to uncover. If she is forced to uncover, defend her right to cover.” This framing places the emphasis on the freedom to choose rather than on the specific choice itself.

Ghannoushi also highlights that the right to choose must be protected in both directions. In societies where secularist policies criminalise the hijab, women who wish to cover may face legal penalties, while in societies where religious law mandates the veil, women who wish to uncover may be punished. The common denominator is the presence of compulsion. By defending the right to both cover and uncover, activists can avoid the trap of prescribing a single “correct” outcome for Muslim women.

The journalist stresses that respecting agency does not mean ignoring the broader structural forces that shape women’s options. Economic pressures, family expectations, and community norms can all influence a woman’s decision. Yet the solution, Ghannoushi argues, is not to impose an external moral judgement but to create conditions where women can make decisions free from intimidation, threat, or manipulation.

Intersection with International Human Rights Law

Ghannoushi’s critique aligns with international human rights standards that protect freedom of thought, conscience, religion, and expression. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, for instance, guarantees the right to manifest one’s religion or belief, which includes the choice of dress. When states criminalise the hijab or force its removal, they risk violating these obligations.

Conversely, when states enforce mandatory veiling, they also breach the same covenant by restricting personal liberty and bodily autonomy. International law therefore does not prescribe a single dress code but demands that any regulation be proportionate, non‑discriminatory, and free from coercion. Ghannoushi’s call for a “radical” respect for women’s agency can be read as a demand for legal frameworks that protect the right to choose, rather than imposing uniform dress codes.

In practice, however, the enforcement of these rights remains uneven. Ghannoushi’s video does not provide specific legal cases, but her analysis suggests that advocacy must focus on holding states accountable when they use dress codes as tools of control, while also challenging foreign actors who weaponise the hijab as a symbol of oppression for political ends.

Amplifying Palestinian Women’s Voices

While Ghannoushi’s commentary addresses the broader Muslim world, the dynamics she describes resonate deeply within the Palestinian context. Palestinian women have long navigated a landscape where dress can be both a personal expression and a political statement. Under occupation, the act of wearing a hijab can be read by some as a sign of cultural resistance, while others may view it as a personal religious choice.

Palestinian women often confront external narratives that portray them as passive victims of both occupation and patriarchal tradition. Ghannoushi’s insistence on agency challenges these portrayals, urging the international community to listen to Palestinian women’s own articulations of what freedom means for them. In refugee camps, in the West Bank, and in Gaza, women’s choices about dress intersect with daily experiences of checkpoints, raids, and economic hardship, making the question of agency even more complex.

The video’s emphasis on “listening to her” underscores the need for journalists, policymakers, and activists to foreground Palestinian women’s testimonies rather than speaking for them. By doing so, the discourse can move beyond simplistic binaries and acknowledge the layered realities that shape every woman’s decision about the hijab.

Towards a More Nuanced Global Conversation

Ghannoushi concludes with a call for a shift in how the international community engages with the issue of the hijab. She suggests that a genuinely radical approach would be to stop treating the hijab as a litmus test for freedom and instead focus on dismantling the structures that deny women any choice at all. This means challenging both state‑imposed dress codes and the external narratives that weaponise the hijab for political agendas.

In practical terms, this could involve supporting grassroots organisations that empower women to articulate their own aspirations, whether that includes wearing the hijab, removing it, or navigating a fluid relationship with both. It also entails pressuring governments to repeal laws that criminalise dress choices and to ensure that any public policy respects the principle of non‑coercion.

Ultimately, the video argues, the measure of a just society is not how it dresses its women, but whether it allows them to decide for themselves. By centring the lived experiences of Muslim women and by exposing the paternalism hidden behind well‑intentioned rescue narratives, Ghannoushi offers a roadmap for a more compassionate, rights‑based dialogue—one that recognises the humanity of every woman, whether she wears a hijab or not.

By Fatima Al-Rashid, Staff Writer

This article was produced with AI-assisted research and editorial support. Reporting is based on the source material cited below. Sources: Middle East Eye video report (17 September 2026); Middle East Eye; Global1.News