Still, all modern religions pale in comparison with Islam in the oppression of
women. Fuddy-duddy politicians in India may attempt to stamp out the dance-bar
industry that has been a hallmark of Mumbai entertainment for ages; Thailand
languishes under Victorianesque censorship and nanny-state bar-closing hours;
Filipino priests wring their hands as young girls crowd into Internet cafes to
flash their nubile breasts via webcam at would-be boyfriends across town, or
across the world. But barbarities such as the flogging, even murder, of wayward
women is all but unknown outside of Islam.
Yet religion is important to people of every age, race and gender, regardless
of the efforts of one sector or other to usurp it. Whether the unbending
patriarchalism of mainstream Islam is supported by the Koran is a matter of
scholarly debate beyond the ken of a mere contributor to Asian Sex Gazette, but
what is important to Muslim women is how to make their religion relevant to
themselves, regardless of how self-styled mullahs, madrassas, and
possibly even the Holy Book itself try to push them outside the circle of the
blessed.
And it is a fact, however much the preachers wish to pretend it is not so, that
women are sexual creatures as much as or more than men. If God hated sex as
much as his self-appointed servants claim to do, he would not have created
Angelina Jolie.
But sexuality is more than the sex act; it demands to be expressed. In free
Asian societies such as modern Thailand, women express their sexuality
casually, almost thoughtlessly. There are probably some Bangkok office girls
who wear flimsy dresses to gain some favor from the boss, or university girls
who wear tight blouses and miniskirts slit to mid-thigh to impress their
boyfriends, or maybe they're just trying to beat the heat. But the way women
dress in Bangkok cannot be fully explained by these factors; obviously, they
enjoy showing off their beauty at least as much as men enjoy watching them.
(Taking this point to its logical extreme, next time you're in a Bangkok or
Pattaya go-go bar, notice how many of the girls spend their whole time onstage
not scanning the audience for potential customers, but admiring themselves in
the mirrors.)
But that's Thailand, whose animist-Buddhist culture puts little or no effort
into suppressing sexuality. Muslim Indonesia is another story. Or is it?
In the first place, sexuality is not dependent merely on how many square
centimeters of flesh is exposed to the open air. Even those of us who enjoy
female nudity gain great pleasure, for example, from the above-mentioned Thai
university uniforms; in fact, a tastefully cut skirt can be more stimulating
that one that garishly exposes a lass's thigh nearly up to her pelvis. There is
also the phenomenon of the illicit flash, the forbidden peek: which is more
fun, watching a bored bargirl prancing stark naked on a Patpong stage, or
getting an unplanned peek down a blouse or up a dress on the Bangkok Skytrain?
In most Muslim societies in Southeast Asia, interpretation of the hejab (dress
code) tends to be women's choice, and therefore tends to be far less stifling -
and far sexier - than common practice in the Middle East. In Thailand for
example, especially Bangkok, it is common to see women wearing the headscarf, a
stylish blouse modestly buttoned high on the neck, and a long skirt slit to
show rather more ankle and shapely calf than one might expect Abu Bakr Ba'ashir
approving. Even more common, even in the more devoutly Muslim south of
Thailand, tight jeans are the order of the day - these expose no flesh and
therefore supposedly conform to the letter of sharia, while leaving little to
the imagination about the fineness of the curves that grace the wearer's legs,
bottom and . other bits.
But even in Java and Malaysia, where Muslim women seem generally more modest
than their counterparts in Thailand, loveliness abounds. Their robes reveal
nothing, but sport attractive materials and lively colors. The headscarf, when
it is not encumbered by a veil (and it almost never is in Southeast Asia),
actually enhances the soft, round face, the dark almond eyes, and the sensuous,
quick-to-smile lips of the average Asian female. And since many women, at least
in well-traveled parts of Indonesia, don't bother with taboos against talking
to male strangers, enjoyable encounters with them can easily be had by the
non-Muslim tourist.
Santy, of course, the beauty I introduced at the top of this article, did not
bother with the hejab at all, at least not in my presence; shorts,
miniskirts and sexy tops were her garb of choice. I never discussed Islam with
her, but I can deduce her story. Her religion was too focused on the afterlife
to be relevant to this one; she had to support herself and probably members of
her family in a society hit hard by a dysfunctional economy wrecked by
political corruption, corporate greed and International Monetary Fund inanities
after the 1997-98 financial crash. And she used her beauty and her body to
grapple with the lot life had dealt her. For many, the cleric-imposed fantasy
of hell after death is not as scary as the hellish realities of life.
For now, at least, women like Santy can live as they choose, practice their
faith (or not) as they see fit, and use their bodies to earn a living or to
give themselves and their companions pleasure (a footnote: months after our
encounter, Santy e-mailed me to tell me she had married and was living happily
in Europe). But even in the much more severely repressed Muslim societies of
the Middle East, one occasionally sees feminine sexuality muscling its way to
the surface.
Many years ago, I was standing in the main bus station in Beersheba, the main
city of Israel's Negev region, waiting for transport north. Across the way,
awaiting a different bus, was a group of Palestinian women dressed in full,
oppressively black, Islamic garb. Some wore veils. One who did not was a young
woman, in her early 20s or late teens, carrying a newborn child.
The girl caught my eye and smiled; even from several meters away I was struck
by her beauty. Without breaking eye contact, she slipped the loveliest breast I
had ever seen (okay, I was pretty young and hadn't seen that many yet) from
under her ugly garment and suckled her kid.
Decades later, I remember the eroticism of that fleeting moment with vivid
clarity, and with the hope that the human spirit everywhere will some day fight
its way free of the dark cloak of oppression.
Simon Tearack is a journalist based in Thailand.
