I have elected to explore the idea of “secular space” based on my personal experience as an exchange student in a French high school. For the French, the concept of “laïcité” (secularism) is very important to national identity. In other words, the church and state ought to be separated, and institutions should reinforce that. The U.S. supports similar ideals in its constitution, although Christian values were (and continue to be) perpetuated in American society. However, French laws often take this concept to the extreme, especially in the face of a growing number of immigrants from North Africa, many of whom are Muslim. See: the Upholding Republican Values Law (U.S. Department of State, 2022).
Growing up in a small suburb in Ohio, my personal experience with Islam was very limited, but I was socialized liberally enough to understand that beyond my neck of the woods, the religion occupies a major space in the world. When I arrived in France at 15, I witnessed firsthand the cultural divide between Christian or irreligious French people and who they perceived as an encroaching Muslim population. My host mother talked negatively of immigrants bumming off welfare in nearby public housing complexes (an apt example of spatial segregation), and I watched impassioned French news commentators rail against Nike’s unveiling of a new sports hijab ahead of the 2020 Olympics (Peitier and Breeden, 2019).
I hope I shouldn’t need to explain why grouping together “lazy immigrant” stereotypes and antipathy toward an entire religion is problematic, but in no place was this notion more casually and sinisterly propped up than in public schools. Absolutely no religious symbols were tolerated. Yes, that policy technically included Star of David or cross necklaces (which I always argued as being discreet enough to slip under your shirt), but it primarily targeted the highly visible hijab. In 2004, headscarves were officially banned in schools (Audureau, 2023). I observed peers of mine remove their scarves upon entry to the courtyard at 8 a.m. and then slip them back on at 4 p.m. in the presence of their mothers, who sometimes wore burkas. Though immigration often requires sacrifice for opportunity, I couldn’t help but feel that this compromise of apparel cut deeper than necessary, particularly given France’s colonial roots in the countries that many of these families had moved from.
I think about this policy a lot, and just how dehumanizing it might be for a young immigrant already struggling to adjust to a new environment. The French’s argument for a secular space always seemed more like a nationalistic one, because for every space, there are pre-existing norms. Christian or atheist students might not have to change a single thing about their outfits to fall in line. Newly arrived Muslim students might still see themselves as sticking out for their accent, or responsibility to translate for their parents, and assimilated French Muslims might feel like they are routinely denying a major part of their identity. I also felt troubled by France’s narrow-minded definition of feminism, given that the law mainly targets women. Are women not permitted the right to choose?
Some migrant cultural adjustment policies have been seen in other parts of Europe, with Denmark even going so far as to separate immigrant children from their families for Danish cultural education programs (Barry & Sorensen, 2018). To me, France’s policies, although grounded in equality-based logic, aren’t too far off from those ideas. An educational space should incorporate the diversity of its learners, and pretending that religion doesn’t factor into those differences will only exacerbate those conflicts outside of the classroom.
To incorporate ideas we’ve explored in class, the body is a place that we dress and on which we assert our identity. It is also a vessel that demonstrates belonging in a space. Prohibition against individualistic expression as well as communal expression – which could hypothetically unite religious/cultural minorities and provide strength against a repressive status quo – is quite contradictory to France’s national proclamation of liberté, égalité, and fraternité.
This is a super interesting discussion, particularly considering how intertwined French sociocultural norms are intertwined with Roman Catholicism, which you touch upon when explaining how Christian students are almost untouched by these policies. Furthermore you highlight how this policy primarily targets Women practicing Islam as much of this is targeted towards the practice of veiling oneself. Caroline Fourest, a French journalist takes the stance that burqas and veils are the physical manifestation of gender inequality and the oppression of women in Islam. She stresses that this is not only a violation of laïcité but also France's progress on gender equality. On the other hand, Muslim feminist scholars, such as Lila Abu-Lughod make the argument that the veil is a means of empowerment and "portable seclusion" that gives women the ability to shield themselves from the sexualize gaze of strange men as well as express their religious pride/identity. I personally see merit in both arguments but I take the stance that there is no place for government to enforce limits on personal expression, especially when the roots of laïcité in large come from a desire to create cultural homogenization and decrease the visibility of religious diversity in France. This seems especially hypocritical when you are spending around $767 million to repair a Cathedral representative of an institutional religious system that upheld class, gender, and religious castes/discrimination as well as launched some of the bloodiest genocide campaigns in human history.
ReplyDeleteHi Lydia. I thought your blog was interesting and your experience at the age of 15 in France must have had a big impact to make you think about the social justice.
ReplyDeleteI think this reflection on the French concept of "secular space" or laïcité provides a powerful critique of how policies intended to uphold equality and neutrality can have discriminatory effects, particularly on nonmajority groups like Muslim immigrants. Such policies, which aim to create a secular space seem to fail to accommodate the cultural diversity of people and ultimately reinforce exclusion. I thought it was not fair to ban religious symbols like hijab in schools while Christian or atheist students do not need to change their appearance. Although laïcité aims to create a public space free from religious influence, it disproportionately affects Muslim women, who are more visibly impacted by rules by the hijab ban. This reminded me of the reading, "The Normality of Doing Things Differently" by Nancy Hansen and Chris Philo from which I learned that disabled people might be created by society because they might be able to do more things if the space design or structure were not the way they are. These could exclude people more. It seems that the French government made Muslims to be a minority group even though it might not have been if the way they handled them had been more equal and inclusive. This selective enforcement makes me raise questions about whose identities are truly being protected in the name of secularism. By enforcing these norms, the French state appears to prioritize a certain vision of national identity. Furthermore, I think such policies are not just about secularism but could lead to deeper issues of nationalism and may control over things such as women’s bodies. I think your blog is important to call the need for educational spacial justice that embraces diversity instead of suppressing it in the name of equality.
This is an extremely interesting subject, especially when considering other recent changes in France such as the Burkini ban which banned full body covering swimsuits in public spaces such as swimming pools. With the US pushing for more radical changes of policy in schools such as displaying of Christian religious texts in classrooms it appears the aims are very similar with what is going on in France, even if the justification is different. Thinking back to previous readings on place rules and how spaces have rules assigned by dominant groups it is very clear to see how the nonimmigrant French majority is using leverage to decide on how to effectively discriminate against those who stray away from cultural norms. Through different rules placed on immigrants in the name of secularism it does not make sense for a European style to be the default look especially in consideration on it’s affinity with Christianity. You raised an important point in the mentioning of the role of colonization on the influence of immigration in France, this makes the issue of discrimination against immigrants increasingly bothersome. With time spent exploiting numerous countries it would be the right thing to look more into making public spaces in France more inclusive and improve education on cultural inclusion. This worrying trend of increasing discrimination makes me wonder on the effects of mental health for the immigrants and how it may influence the ability to thrive in succeed when they have to hide their identity so much. With more policy on ensuring everyone has the ability to present themselves how they would like we can create more spaces where everyone can thrive.
ReplyDeleteHi Lydia,
ReplyDeleteThis is a comprehensive post that explores the barriers to integration that North African immigrants experience in France. While discrimination within schools represents one aspect of these barriers, another feature of immigrant discrimination in France surrounds immigrant employment. According to Atalayar, job applicants of North African descent are 34 percent less likely to be contacted for a second interview by French recruiters. Moreover, in a 2016 study by the INSEE, it was determined that job applicants whose names were perceived to be foreign were 31.5 percent less likely to be contacted by employers than applicants with a name that sounded entirely European. Interestingly, Beaman conducted research in 2017 on the experience of middle–class children born to immigrants of North African descent and found that these children, who are French citizens, are regarded as “citizen outsiders,” as their right to French space is scrutinized and challenged by white French citizens.
A similar experience is reflected in the article by Garnette Cadogan, who shares his experience of threats and danger on public streets because he did not fit into the normative racial category of white. While it is evident that North African immigrants and their children are discriminated against because they also do not fit into French society’s normative racial category, one also must wonder if the children of North African migrants are especially marginalized due to their body’s memorialization of the legacies of French colonialism that the average French citizen may wish to forget, which relates to Caroline Williams’ article.