This commentary was first published in the National Post on December 14, 2007.
The tragic death of Aqsa Parvez has been on my mind incessantly since I heard the news that the Mississauga, Ont., teenager had been killed -- allegedly by her traditionally minded Muslim father. As a professor of Islamic law, I teach my students about its history, doctrines and modes of analysis. We shift back and forth from common law reasoning to Islamic doctrines. We analyze the differences between the values of the Islamic system and our own value commitments.
But then an extreme episode such as the death of Ms. Parvez arises, and we move beyond the academic exercises of the classroom to pangs of outrage and heartbreak.
One hopes that no religion would sanction the killing of a child. And, indeed, the Islamic tradition does not condone the crime Ms. Perez's father is alleged to have committed against his rebellious daughter. But is it possible that there's something in his Muslim faith that influenced him to act so outrageously?
In the historical Islamic tradition, there are injunctions that require a woman after the age of majority to cover herself. We see in our midst Muslim women who wear veils as diverse as the hijab (which reveals the face) to the niqab (which reveals the eyes) to the burka. Each clothing type reflects a particular historical and cultural context. The diversity of garments illustrates how a general injunction can take different forms in different societies and times. What we do not see (at least knowingly) are the Muslim women who do not wear any sort of veil.
In my research on the Islamic veiling requirement, I have not found any punitive sanction against a woman who chooses not to veil that could even remotely explain Mr. Parvez's alleged actions. Of course, at a cultural level, a woman might nonetheless be subject to informal sanctions, whether through public shaming or family pressure -- which is alleged to be the case with Ms. Parvez.
But this crime is not really about veiling requirements in Islam. Rather, it raises the ugly spectre of "honour killings" -- a phenomenon well known and documented in Muslim societies around the world, including Pakistan, Mr. Parvez's original home. In parts of the world where modern technological advances and Western cultural influences have challenged traditional values, some have responded by confrontationally promoting traditions that are seen as rooting their identity, such as burdening women to be symbols of a family's honour and virtue.
Should we then be surprised to see women and their bodies bearing the burdens of tradition -- literally and figuratively? When Ms. Parvez decided to stop wearing the hijab, this was interpreted as an abandonment of certain traditions that she bore as a woman. To family members, her acts would have been seen as defying the social order that undergirds her community's distinctive development and identity.
As we mourn the loss of a young, vibrant woman, then, we may wish to ask ourselves some questions. If we are members of traditional communities, what is it that we fear in the loss of tradition? Is it realistic to think that we can leave our homes, come to a new country and not expect changes in the way we and our children construct our identity? If we are Canadians shocked at how a father can allegedly murder his own daughter for removing her veil, how might we create a climate where newcomers can openly participate in our society and culture with limited angst, while we celebrate together in what all of us bring to our shores?
