Cynics Unlimited

If the Taliban has accomplished anything, it has been to make “burqa” a household word. The burqa of course refers to the full-body covering donned by some Muslim women, which does not allow the woman to be viewed by others but includes a gauze net at the eye level to permit her to see outside. The burqa is similar to the niqab, which also covers the head and body but leaves the woman’s eyes exposed.

Under the Taliban Afghan women were legally forced to wear the burqa if they ventured from their homes. Now a Muslim group in Canada is taking the opposite tactic. The Muslim Canadian Congress is urging the Canadian federal government to forbid the wearing of the burqa, and the niqab, in public.* According to the Congress, as an instrument of women’s oppression the burqa has no place in a country like Canada that prides itself on its gender equality. Furthermore, the burqa poses a security risk, as an individual – male or female – could put it on to rob a bank or other establishment without fear of being identified. Finally, the Muslim Canadian Congress says the burqa is not mandated by Islam or even mentioned in the Koran. It is instead a Middle Eastern cultural tradition that was co-opted by Muslims in the region.

Not everyone concurs with the Muslim Canadian Congress’ demand. The Canadian Islamic Congress for instance believes that banning the burqa would violate the freedom of religion and conscience of Muslim women who chose to wear it. To that the Muslim Canadian Congress replies that for many, even most, women the burqa is not a choice but something imposed on them by their husbands and other family members. The group’s president Farzana Hassan stated as well in an interview on CBC Radio that religious freedom is not absolute.

The question of whether or not to ban the burqa presents a dilemma for many Canadians regardless of their religion. In Canada , women’s rights and freedom of religion are two principles most of us take seriously. But what happens when they appear to collide?

I believe the idea of the burqa as a security threat deserves to be discussed. The Muslim Canadian Congress’ Tarek Fatah described at least one incident in Canada in which an individual – a man, actually – robbed a bank while wearing a burqa. Is this a reason to prohibit the burqa in public? Perhaps – though one could argue that in that case ski masks, which have probably been used for more robberies than the burqa has, should be banned as well. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to require that women show their faces in situations where identification is advisable in order to prevent fraud, when voting or taking out money at a bank, for instance. But I suspect the burqa’s potential as a robbery facilitator may be a bit exaggerated by its opponents.

I’m also somewhat wary of the notion that the burqa should be forbidden in order to prevent women from being forced to wear it. This is one of the Muslim Canadian Congress’ main arguments for banning the garment. However, over the years a plethora of restrictive legislation of dubious benefit has been passed for the purpose of “protecting” women. For instance, when Ireland was debating whether to permit divorce (which it ultimately did in 1995) some people claimed that doing so would hurt women by freeing up men to abandon their wives and children. One Irish politician, Alice Glenn, made the now-famous comparison of a woman voting to legalize divorce to a “turkey voting for Christmas.” (Of course we in North America might say a turkey voting for Thanksgiving.) Glenn never mentioned that over half of divorces today are filed by wives rather than husbands. While most of these women do so not because of abuse and/or alcoholism on their spouses’ part but because of dissatisfaction with the marriage in general, it’s not hard to imagine that forbidding divorce does make it more difficult for a woman to be free of a man like Carlo Rizzi in The Godfather. Thus here we have an example of a law (the ban on divorce) ostensibly aimed at helping women which ends up potentially hurting them.

I don’t doubt the Muslim Canadian Congress’ call for a burqa ban stems from a genuine concern for women (though I suspect it’s also an attempt on the group’s part to spruce up Islam’s image in the eyes of non-Muslim Canadians, many of whom associate the religion with the subjugation of women). And the question of whether even in Canada women freely decide to wear the burqa deserves to be examined. Yet the idea of forbidding something that we personally might find oppressive strikes me as paternalistic at best and authoritarian at worst. An analogy might lie in the case of Michelle Duggar, the Arkansas woman with at last count eighteen children and one more on the way. (See my earlier essay about her at Cynics Unlimited) I’ve embarked on a completely different course in my reproductive life: I’ve chosen to give birth to only one child. Just as the Muslim Canadian Congress says the burqa is not part of the Islamic religion, my interpretation of Psalm 127:3-5, “happy is he who has his quiver full of (children),” does not tell me that I should necessarily have as many kids as my body can pump out. One commentator on my quiverfull essay claimed that the Duggars were “brainwashed.” Which may be true, but who am I or anyone else to tell Ms. Duggar that she should not have as many children as she can produce because it’s not something that I would ever do myself or that I consider a religious obligation?

Which brings up the role of religion in society. I agree with Farzana Hassan that freedom of religion is not absolute. For example, courts have – rightly – ordered medical treatment for the children of Christian Scientists. On the other hand, in the same way that political leaders shouldn’t be allowed to impose their religious beliefs about abortion, homosexuality, etcetera, on people who do not share them, perhaps other than in extreme situations it is not the government’s job to decide how citizens should practise their religion. Rather than resort to the law, the Muslim Canadian Congress might consider trying to educate the Muslim community on why the burqa and niqab are not religious requirements.

Though in the end I don’t have any definite answer on whether or not the burqa should be legally forbidden in Canada , I tend to lean against a ban. The occasional conflict between women’s rights and religious freedom isn’t always easily resolved. In attempting to do so, we should be careful to strike a balance between the needs of individuals and the needs of the greater society.

* The Muslim Canadian Congress is not on the other hand calling for a ban on the hijab, or headscarf, which covers only the woman’s hair.

Ever since Sara in the Book of Genesis purportedly gave birth at the age of ninety, women who conceive and manage to carry their pregnancies to term after the so-called change of life have fascinated the public.  Their resulting childbirths have been viewed as “lusi naturae” (Latin for “jokes of nature”) or, for the religiously inclined, signs of divine intervention.  In the last two decades or so, though, the feats of these contemporary Saras have been seen less as acts of nature or God than of modern medical technology.  Thanks to a procedure called ovum donation, whereby an egg is extracted from the ovaries of one woman (the “donor”), fertilized by a man’s sperm, and implanted into the uterus of another woman (the “recipient”), infertile women unable to produce eggs of their own can now bear children.  The children themselves of course will be the genetic offspring not of the recipient who gives birth but of the donor who provided the egg in the first place.

When the procedure first emerged in the 1980s most recipients were married women in their thirties and forties who had experienced premature menopause.  Now however a considerable number of them are single and in their fifties and sixties.  (There was one report of a woman who bore a child at seventy, but as she lacked a valid birth certificate her age could not be verified.)  An example was Maria del Carmen Bousada de Lara, a Spanish woman who gave birth at sixty-six to twin boys.  Trailing close behind her was Adriana Iliescu, a Romanian professor who at the same age minus some days had a little girl.

These post-menopausal matriarchs have, not surprisingly, stirred up considerable controversy.  A frequent comment is that childbearing in the sixth decade of life and beyond is unnatural.  Some critics, such as the Roman Catholic Church, oppose all artificial reproduction.  On the other hand, many people who would have no problem with a thirty-year-old woman turning to in vitro fertilization in order to conceive might draw the line at a fifty- or sixty-year-old doing the same.

I must admit being a bit disconcerted by a recent picture of Adriana Iliescu at seventy, walking hand in hand with her three-year-old daughter and looking like a caricature of an elderly woman desperately clinging to youth with her bright red lip gloss and dyed black hair over her wrinkled face.  That she is the young girl’s “mother” rather than grandmother does seem to violate the natural order.  Yet a part of me bristles at the word “natural.”  Much of what women do in their reproductive lives today, from using birth control to terminating pregnancies to conceiving via artificial insemination, is hardly natural.  My own procreative odyssey veered from the natural when I gave birth to my daughter by caesarean section.  As her head was too large and my vagina too small to allow for a normal delivery, letting nature take its course would likely have meant death for us both.  Therefore it might be hypocritical of me to criticize women who also seek the services of what modern medicine has to offer.

Another area of concern has to do with the age of the women in question.  Is a fifty- or sixty-year-old really up to the task of walking a colicky baby, running around the local park with a toddler, or playing ball with a six-year-old?  Many would answer “no.”  More importantly, the risk of a post-menopausal woman dying before her child reaches adulthood is statistically speaking much greater than that of a twenty-, thirty- or even forty-year-old.  This fear was borne out by the recent death of Maria del Carmen Bousada, who died of cancer at 69 leaving her two-year-old twin sons behind (fortunately a nephew of hers, the boys’ godfather, will be taking care of them).

A counterargument is that men can and do become parents in their twilight years without much commentary.  A famous example was the late actor Tony Randall, who fathered two children with his second wife when he was in his late seventies.  One difference is that the majority of elderly fathers have pre-menopausal wives, so there is a good chance of there being one parent around for the children as they grow up.  However, even in this case one could say that because it is difficult for a young child or teenager to lose either parent, women shouldn’t be condemned any more – or less – than men should for deciding to procreate at an advanced age.

Women who resort to egg donation are occasionally asked why they don’t adopt instead.  Some people with reservations about older women deliberately getting pregnant are more accepting of the latter providing a home to an existing child.  In reality, though, adoption is complicated even for couples in their twenties and thirties (shortage of available children, huge expenses, and the possibility of the birth mother changing her mind); with the added burden of age limits set by many adoption agencies and some source countries, achieving parenthood via this route may be virtually impossible for a woman of sixty, especially if she’s not married.

Yet sometimes one gets the impression that even if adoption were more feasible many of these women would still choose to undergo egg donation so as to experience pregnancy and childbirth.   I personally fail to see the psychological advantages of egg donation over adoption.   Women like Iliescu and Bousada have no genetic relationship to the children they bear – barring the rare occasion where the egg donor is a blood relative of the recipient – and other than gestating and giving birth do little that an adoptive mother can’t.  (By the way, adoptive mothers can breastfeed – though they usually have to supplement their own milk with formula.)

One might also wonder why older egg donation recipients did not try to reproduce in their younger years when they were physically capable of doing so.  Maria del Carmen Bousada claimed she was taking care of her own mother until the latter’s death at 101, which may have led Bousada to believe that she herself would have lived long enough to at least see her kids off to college.  Adriana Iliescu had two abortions during a brief marriage in her twenties.  Though Bousada may have had a point when she told a British newspaper that “everyone should become a mother at the right time for them,” I can’t help thinking that it might have been easier for everyone involved – the women themselves, the babies, and their extended families, who, as in Bousada’s case, will often be the ones taking charge of the kids in the event of their mother’s demise – if their reproductive careers had begun sooner than they actually did.  An added bonus of earlier childbearing too, for those to whom heredity is important, is a genetic connection to the resulting offspring.

The question of post-menopausal reproduction is of some personal interest to me as my naturally fertile years draw to a close (I’m forty now).   I am fairly certain that if I try to have more biological children and find myself unable to do so, I won’t turn to medicine to help me achieve this goal.  At thirty or even thirty-five I might have done so, but at this point in time forcing a pregnancy when my body is saying “no” does appear to be pushing the limit.  If I decide to expand my family, adoption – giving a home to a child already in the world – strikes me as the more sensible option.

For all my ambivalence, I cannot condemn women who undergo egg donation after menopause.  I’ve certainly defied nature enough during my own reproductive life (using birth control, having a caesarean, etcetera).  And I don’t think the law should become involved in the matter.  Fertility clinics can use their own judgements as to whether or not to accept women past a certain age.  But between proclaiming there is a set timeframe to procreate and encouraging people of any age in any circumstance to have babies should lay a happy medium.