I love the variety of subjects I get to shoot on editorial stories. A recent shoot was for the Women’s Weekly, for images to include in an article written by Erin O’Dwyer. The story was about Muslim women wearing the Burqa and how European countries have been debating the banning of Burqua.
Faduma
Faduma
Here is an extract of the article;
“Sacred or oppressive? As Europe debates the politics of the hijab, Erin O’Dwyer talks to four Muslim Australian women about why they choose – or choose not to – wear the Islamic veil.
Islamic veils are expressions of faith to some, and symbols of oppression to others. Either way, they continue to spark debate. The latest controversy has flared in Europe, where first Belgium, and perhaps soon France, will pass laws to stop Muslim women wearing the face-covering burqa or niqab in public.
In recent times, and against the backdrop of the war on terrorism, many Muslim women have embraced headscarves as a symbol of reverence and a political statement of defiance against the west.
Laws on Islamic veils vary between countries and regimes. In Afghanistan, for example, the hard-line Taliban forced women to be fully covered in public. However in Turkey, a secular state with a large Muslim population, students and public servants are banned from wearing headscarves.
Recently, Belgium passed laws to stop Muslim women wearing the Islamic burqa or niqab. The author of the law argued everyone in public must be recognizable, and that the burqa clashed with the values of a free society that respects the rights of all.
In July, France – where a driver wearing a face veil was fined by police for not having a clear field of vision – will debate a similar bill to prevent French Muslim women wearing any headscarf that also covers their face.
President Nicolas Sarkozy says the burqa is an “affront to French values” and a denigration of women. Germany, however, sees no need for a ban.
Muslim leaders in Europe have spoken out, saying women who choose to wear veils or headscarves will become social outcasts, trapped in their homes. “Today it’s the full-face veil, tomorrow the veil,” says Muslim Executive of Belgium spokeswoman Isabelle Praile. “The day after it will be Sikh turbans and then… mini-skirts.”
Dr Soraya Alami runs a boutique medical practice in Sydney’s Lakemba, a hub of Lebanese Australian life. Around 80 percent of her patients are Muslim women and children. The majority wears a head scarf but she has chosen not to.
“I grew up in Lakemba. In those days there were just five Muslim families in the area. It seemed really important as a doctor to go back because I felt I could build a cross-cultural bridge.
I still remember as a child seeing very elegant Muslim women, going to the hairdresser every Saturday and going out wearing beautiful evening gowns and jewellery. In Australia in those days, and overseas too, Muslim women did not wear headscarves. But even now, Muslim women who wear headscarves are very elegantly dressed. Under the hijab, they wear colour-coordinated underwear.
When I was young, no Muslim woman wore the scarf. I recall my mother saying that her generation and my grandmother’s generation had fought hard to remove the veil.
I don’t feel there is a need to take the headscarf. What I understand of the Prophet’s teachings is that the best time to wear a headscarf is when you are praying. My understanding of the headscarf is in its historical and cultural context. Historically, it was safer for women to cover themselves to protect themselves from violence and sexual exploitation. In today’s society women’s rights are recognized and protected by law.”
Faduma Mousse, 51, is a community health worker from Melbourne. She came to Australia as a Somalian refugee in 1995. She has five children and 15 grandchildren. She wears a headscarf as part of her Muslim faith.
“My husband was killed in the war. I left my country in 1990 and spent five years in Pakistan. I was a single mum with five children and it was very difficult. I used to work with Community Aid Abroad in Somalia and I had good friends in Australia so I came here.
It was very hard in the beginning. When you come to a new country you miss your country, your friends. It took me five years to feel at home.
When I first came here people would say: ‘Why are you wearing a scarf? Is it because you don’t have any hair? It’s too hot, you shouldn’t be wearing it.’
I always say: ‘This is my religion and my culture. I trust in God and I respect my culture.’ My faith has always been strong. In those days, there were not many African people in Melbourne. Now there are more and people are more accepting.
My children all grew up here and they speak to each other in English. My grandchildren were all born here, they speak maybe three words in Somali. I am still Somalian and a Muslim, but I see myself as more Australian now.”
The Lighting Setup in Faduma's front yard
The final shot in the front yard
My job was to photograph Faduma, the Melbourne subject in the story. I met her at her modest Oakleigh house on a Sunday afternoon. Faduma’s yard had neatly kept grass and was devoid of all other plants. I was welcomed into her home, where we sat on the floor and talked about many things.
Spending time with Faduma, I quickly realized she is an inspiring woman. I was humbled by her human spirit. Faduma’s husband was murdered in Somalia by the army, she became a refugee, then with her 5 children she travelled cross country to Pakistan where her money ran out. She etched out a life there for herself and her family for 5 years until she was lucky enough to get a job with an Australian Aid Agency who she had worked with in Somalia. After working with them for a year, they helped her apply as a refugee to Australia.
Now Faduma is employed as a community health worker. She is also very active in the Somali community.
I shot the images of Faduma with my Nikon D3x, 24mm PC lens, SB900 speedlights controlled by the SU800, HonlPhoto light modifiers and ThinkTank Photo Airport Airstream and Airport Ultralight bags.
