30 The Nation. October 9, 2017
excluded or subordinated women because
of the difference of their sex—a difference
that has to be openly displayed as justifica-
tion for their different treatment. If gender
equality is defined only as sexual emancipa-
tion, then all of the other inequalities faced
by women in France—political, social, and
economic—are made to disappear, and ex-
isting gender norms are held firmly in
place. The fantasy of freedom is sustained
by comparing uncovered French women
with those Muslim women covered by the
veil. Although political cultures vary in the
countries of Western Europe, something
similar operates in all of them.
T
here is clearly a crisis of immigration
in Europe. It is evident in the dead-
lock between an increasing insistence
by politicians on the homogeneity of
cultural nationalism, on the one hand,
and the presence of diverse populations
within national borders, on the other. It has
only intensified in the wake of the arrival
of hundreds of thousands of refugees from
the war-torn and economically devastated
countries of the Global South. We are at
a turning point (one of the meanings, after
all, of the word “crisis”): Will those “black
people” that we glimpsed from the train,
and who are sequestered in the banlieues,ever be accepted as fully French? Will the
day come when I would react not in surprise
but in affirmation to that young woman
(“Yes, some French are black”)? And what
of Western feminism? Is there a path away
from the binaries of “West/East” and “sexu-
ally liberated/sexually repressed” that might
yield a more genuinely inclusive vision of
what emancipation and gender equality
could mean?
A glimmer of what might be possible
on this last question came from a collective
of women in France—Muslim and non-
Muslim, religious and secular—that was
formed during the debates over the head-
scarf law in 2003–4. These women declared
that they were opposed to all forms of
domination, whether patriarchal, capital-
ist, or state-imposed: no forced wearing of
the veil, no forced removal of the veil. By
focusing on domination as the common de-
nominator, the women found a way out of all
those other politically and culturally divisive
binaries—not by denying their power, but
rather by offering a way to place them in
their proper context.
On the subject of refugees and the mass-
es of migrants pouring into European cities
from Africa and the Middle East, these
authors offer different perspectives. Chin
suggests that, on the ground, there is more
genuine integration than the politicians
would care to admit, and that this provides
hope for the future of multiculturalism.
Zakaria offers her book as an “object lesson”
(the name of the series to which it belongs)
on the multifaceted nature of cultural signs,
as a way of trying to influence, and so
change, stereotypical representations of the
veil. Both seek to bring ideas more fully into
compliance with reality, as if the two were
distinct realms, even as they recognize their
interdependence. For Farris, too, mate-
rial interests and rhetorical expression are
inextricably entwined; she emphasizes how
the structures and ideologies of discrimina-
tion are at once productive of and deeply
rooted in economic interests. Her read-
ing of “femonationalism” as a symptom of
neoliberal capitalism gives little hope that a
quick or effective solution is possible for the
crises at hand.
So we are left without certain answers,
and that’s as it should be: The goal of these
books is not prediction but critique. And
in that regard, they are useful and impor-
tant, providing needed insight and detail to
deepen our understanding of how we got
here—a necessary step for thinking about
whether and how we might be able to move
to a better place. QPilgrim Bell
My savior has powers and he needs.
To be convinced to use them for good.
Up until now he has been.
A no-call no-show. The menace.
Of ecstasy like a hornets nest buzzing.
Under ice. Like scabs of rust.
On a plane wing. I am younger than.
I pretend to be. Almost everyone.
Is younger than I pretend to be. I am a threat.
And full of grief even.
In my joy. Like a cat who kills.
A mouse at play and tries.
To lick it back to life. The cat lives.
Somewhere between wonder.
And shame. I live in a great mosque.
Built on top of a flagpole. Up here.
Whatever happens happens.
Loudly. All day I hammer the distance.
Between the earth and me.
Into faith. Blue light pulls in through.
The long crack in my wall. Braids.
Into a net. The difference between.
A real voice and the other kind.
Is the way its air vibrates.
Through you. The violence.
In your middle ear.KAVEH AKBAR