Behind the Veil

 

Laïcité is the French tradition of secularism that has defined the political landscape for the past century. It exists as a measure to protect the rights of French citizens and preserve the ideals of liberté, egalité, fraternité that France lives by. This tradition has existed in the predominantly Catholic country for nearly a century without much conflict, but the France of today is a vastly different nation than it once was. France is a multicultural nation-state that is home to millions, including the French-born sons and daughters of immigrants hailing from the former North African colonies. Islam is also on the rise, growing to become the second largest religion in France. This dramatic demographic change has destabilized the long-standing Catholic identity of France. This insecurity has changed how laïcité has been invoked within the past decade, contributing to many of the current controversies surrounding Islam in France.

As a second generation Taiwanese immigrant, I am interested in exploring intersectional identity in multi-ethnic individuals. This photo essay explores how religion factors into that. “Behind the Veil” is a visual exploration of how French Muslims construct their identity in the face of secularism. I focused on the stories of four young French citizens—Rachid, Assa, Anfal, and Nadim—to create a narrative that attempts to destabilize the monolithic image of Muslims that dominate mass media. The media has appropriated their image and I wanted to use photography to allow them to represent themselves in the way that they wanted to be seen, in order to reclaim their image. The series also is a study of spaces, examining how spaces in and around Paris can serve to explain history and represent the root causes of inequality and perceived failures in integration. The spaces not only highlight the state failures and self-segregation that perpetuate disparity, but they also act as channels through which individuals reaffirm their identities.

Anfal

24, she / her, Syria
Courbevoie

“I consider it [the hijab] as an obligation, but the politicians they just want to change Islam and they think Islam, now as it is, is not compatible with French traditional culture. Actually, it is.... laïcité is just the separation between church and state and it doesn't have anything to do with whether I'm wearing a hijab or not...They think that we’re not integrated or French. But we don’t have to integrate ourselves, because we are French. They just have to accept that we are a part of the French culture. Just not the same as the older one. It’s really not our problem. It’s their problem."

 
 

Gennevilliers

“Les banlieues” translates to the suburbs, but the social connotations in French are much more derogatory, evoking images of the troubled low income housing units (HLM) where unemployment and crime rates are significantly higher than the national average.

2 - rachidx.jpg

Rachid

33, male, Algerian
Gennevilliers

“I’m Parisian. That’s as far as I would go to identify myself. I don’t know who I am, but I don’t want to try to identify as anything. I hope to figure it out one day, but for now, it’s better to not think of myself as anything. I’m healthy, I have a home, my problems are purely existential....I have my own demons.”

Gennevilliers

Over half of people that live in banlieues are immigrants or of foreign origin. Most originate from the former North African colonies of Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia.

4-10x.jpg

Assa

20, she/her, Mauritia
Bezons

“For me, clearly, I’ve succeeded in negotiating the two [parts of my identity], but it’s true that it’s not easy every day. There are certain prejudices, there are certain stereotypes....There’s no one singular manner of being free. I don’t need to integrate, I am French.”

Bezons

The community of Bezons, a banlieue to the east of Paris, comes together once a year during the summer holidays to create a weeklong children's festival with games and activities, to provide a vacation for children whose families may not be able to afford to vacation outside of Paris, as many Parisians do during the holidays.

Stade de France RER D Station – Saint Denis

Saint Denis is a department to the north of Paris that has the highest proportion of immigrants of any French department, and over half of its residents have at least one foreign parent. Islam is the largest religion here. The department is often referred to as the neuf-trois (93), in reference to its postal code. The negative social connotations that are often associated with “the 93” are a function of the high levels of violence, crime, and unemployment that are documented in the troubled banlieues of the department.

Barbès – Rochechouart

The Barbès area is an ethnic enclave in northwestern Paris commonly nicknamed “Little Africa”. Most residents of the Barbès area, and notably in the vibrant Goutte D’or neighborhood, originate from North Africa or sub-Saharan Africa. It is commonly portrayed in the media as a dangerous area with high-crime rates.

nadim.jpg

Nadim

22, he/him, Tunisia
Les Halles

“The kids I grew up with, the entire community I lived in, we were conditioned to hate Parisians growing up. I still do! It’s almost, I don’t know, shameful? Shameful to have succeeded and made it out of the banlieues. When I visit home, people tell me that I’ve changed now that I’ve moved to Paris and become one of them.”

The Grand Mosque of Paris

The Paris Mosque was erected in 1926 by the French government as a tribute to the fallen colonial soldiers. The Algerian government plays an active role in the administration mosque, assigning it’s current leader. It is an important symbol and religious space in the heart of Paris, but recently has also become a popular tourist destination.

Denfert-Rochereau

In the wake of the Gaza-Israel conflicts the summer of 2014, pro-Palestinian protesters took to streets of central Paris, defying a ban by French authorities. While a small proportion of the French population is Palestinian compared to Maghreb, many Muslims seemed to identify with the anti-Israel position on the premise of solidarity based on a sense of a shared, global Muslim identity.