Educated, independent, and covered: The professional aspirations and experiences of university-educated hijabi in contemporary Turkey

Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

Contents lists available at ScienceDirect

Women's Studies International Forum j o u r n a l h o m e p a g e : w w w. e l s ev i e r. c o m / l o c a t e / w s i f

Educated, independent, and covered: The professional aspirations and experiences of university-educated hijabi in contemporary Turkey Brigitte Jelen Bahçeşehir University, Sociology Dept., Istanbul, Turkey

s y n o p s i s This research analyzes the experiences and aspirations of university-educated upper-middle class women belonging to the new Islamic elite in Turkey. Based on in-depth interviews with students and professionals, it fills a gap in the existing literature on Turkish women, education, and work, which has mostly ignored the particular situation of university-educated covered women. Research results show that these women aspire to – and are ready to fight for – prestigious professional careers as well as more equal gender relations at work and at home. As a consequence of their difficulties in finding an equally pious yet open-minded partner, an increasing number of educated hijabi are choosing to remain single, divorcing, or even adopting children alone, thus significantly challenging traditional gender roles. Finally, the study also discusses the discrimination that these women face on the job market and in politics today, and argues for their increased participation and visibility. © 2011 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.

Introduction Hatice is a thirty year old single woman who rides a motorbike and manages an industrial group of more than twohundred people; she also prays five times daily and covers her hair and neck tightly with a Muslim headscarf or hijab.1 Her friend Zeynep is a thirty-five year old manager in a business holding who lives alone in an apartment she recently purchased. She is an avid swimmer, reader, and traveler, also chooses to cover her head, and refuses speculative investments for both her business and personal income. Esra, on the other hand, is a twenty-three year old university student in philosophy with a nose piercing who plays the guitar and dreams of being a successful writer one day. She also wears a hijab, prays daily, and stays away from both alcohol and pre-marital sex. Although these women, and the thirty others interviewed for this study, represent a small minority of the Istanbul Muslim community, their increasing number and visibility highlights the fact that today, young educated urban women in Turkey are finding it possible (albeit difficult) to combine both a modern and independent lifestyle with a certain form of Muslim religious orthodoxy.2 While the overwhelming majority of Turks are Muslim, (Shankland, 2003), making one's religious preferences visible in the public sphere by wearing a headscarf goes far beyond 0277-5395/$ – see front matter © 2011 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved. doi:10.1016/j.wsif.2011.04.008

freedom of choice in contemporary Turkey. Rather, for many in the secular elite, especially women, it symbolizes a return to a backward traditional lifestyle in contradiction with the Western values promoted nearly a century ago by the founding fathers of the Republic (Saktanber & Çorbacıoğlu, 2008; Turam, 2008). In the past two decades, the rise to power of Islamic political parties, and of a new conservative bourgeoisie, has significantly aggregated these fears, leading many secular Turks to believe that covered women are the visible expression of a larger political project, namely the (re) Islamization of Turkish society (ESI, 2005; Mardin, 1972, 1989; Narli, 1999). Hijabi students have often been portrayed as the political vanguards of Islamic movements because of their active participation in anti-headscarf ban demonstrations (Refig, 2008), or alternatively, as malleable minds that can be potentially “reformed” in a secular educational environment, as one Galatasaray University lecturer explained: Let the young women with headscarves come into our classes. Let us teach them about life, science and the realities which the human mind has reached. Let us try and wipe the dirt and rust of the fanatic and bigoted teachings of the Koran courses, (religious) Imam Hatip schools, family and peer pressure, and other environments from their brains (Özbilgen, 2008).

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

In either case, young hijabi are not recognized as independent, conscious subjects capable of making their own lifestyle choices. Such compromise of women's agency and voices has a long history in Turkey. As feminist scholars have shown, Turkish women have been repeatedly instrumentalized for the sake of broader secular (Kandiyoti, 1987, 1991) or Islamic (Turam, 2007) political projects, while their own opinions and political aspirations were mostly silenced. Debates on the presence of covered students in universities initially emerged in Turkey in the mid-1980s, in a general context of worldwide Islamic revival (Arat, 2005, 15–29; Göle, 1996). It would take nearly twenty years, and many contradictory legal rulings, for the ban on headscarves to be strictly enforced, following what some observers have called the “postmodern coup” of February 28, 1997, which ended the coalition government of Welfare Party [(Refah Partisi, RP)] leader Necmettin Erbakan (Çandar, 1997). After that date, covered students in most universities were told to remove their hijab or risk being forcefully expelled from campuses. Many young girls dropped out of university at this time, and either sought other solutions abroad, in the Open University system (a Turkish distance learning program), or simply waited for better days. In 2008, efforts by the current Justice and Development Party [(Adalet ve Kalkinma Partisi, AKP)] government to lift the ban in February 2008 led the Constitutional Court to threaten the party with closure and its members with exclusion from politics in June 2008 (BBC News Europe, 2008). Most recently, a decision by the Turkish Higher Board of Education (YÖK) in early October 2010 forbidding individual lecturers from expelling students from their classrooms simply because of their scarves (a common practice in most universities) has unofficially but effectively lifted the decade old ban (Hürriyet Daily News, 2010a, 2010b, 2010c; Hürriyet, 2008; Today's Zaman, 2010). The new and surprising visibility of hijabi women in Turkey during the 1990s and 2000s stimulated academic interest, yet this new body of literature tended to concentrate mostly on the collective political activism of pious women rather than on their own individual experience as students, as workers, or simply as women (Arat, 2005; Saktanber, 2002; White, 2003). As Kandiyoti (2010, p.166) recently remarked, the discussions and research agendas of gender studies in Turkey continue to be framed by “the exhausted paradigms of secularism versus Islamism, modernities, and alternative modernities”, leaving many essential questions unanswered. I argue that one of the consequences of these fruitless debates has been a striking deficit of social scientific research on young educated and professional hijabi women. Indeed, when they are not shown campaigning for Islamic political parties, pious women are usually presented in their domestic environment, as mothers, wives and daughters, unwillingly reinforcing the commonly held idea that these women are absent from academic and professional life (Saktanber, 2002; White, 2003). This impression is further reinforced by the fact that specific studies on working-women in Turkey do not include university-educated hijabi women and their particular situation (anti-headscarf discrimination on the job market) in their analysis (Aycan, 2004; Beşpınar, 2010; Cindoğlu, 2010, 7–12; Küskü et al., 2007; Pinar, Eser, Russell Hardin, & Russell, 2007). As a consequence, the educational and professional experiences of the thousands of hijabi girls who graduate from

309

university each year and enter the labor market, with dreams of combining both a successful career and personal life, have remained invisible both from the media and academic literature. 3 Most recently, since the October 2010 de-facto lift of the ban on headscarves at universities, debates in Turkey appear to have somewhat shifted, with an intensified and sudden interest in the future, especially professional future, of hijabi university graduates (Cindoğlu, 2010; Hürriyet Daily News, 2010a, 2010b, 2010c; Hürriyet, 2008). This article places itself within this renewed interest in Turkish hijabi women, as independent and conscious subjects, and in their active participation in contemporary Turkish society. While it is common knowledge in Turkey that covered women have been able to find low-level service or clerical jobs in more conservative companies, or in the public offices of AKP municipalities, their situation in the middle and especially top of the career ladder has not been studied. 4 The women that I chose to focus on in this study have no desire to remain at the bottom of the job hierarchy. Bilingual in Turkish and English, and having graduated from the most competitive universities in Turkey, they want to fully participate in the economical, social, and political development of their country, despite the obstacles that they might face as covered women. These women are interesting at this particular historical moment because they are a living challenge to two commonly held ideas about modernity and religiosity in Turkey: that educational and professional success leads eventually to the abandonment or lessening of religious faith and practice, and that practicing Muslim women are necessarily the victims of an ideological framework condoning work and individual fulfillment. Although they remain a very small minority (less than 1% of adult Turkish women), 5 they have the opportunity to significantly change the way religious women are perceived in Turkish society in the future, both by staunchly secular and religiously conservative Turks who reject them for opposite reasons. This research is thus framed by the following two broad questions: In contemporary Turkey, how can one be a successful university student, working woman, sometimes also wife and mother, while remaining a practicing Muslim who wears a hijab? What is the impact of the increasing number of hijabi university graduates and professionals on gender relations within the Islamic community? Methodology This study is based on in-depth semi-structured interviews with twenty-one hijabi university students and twelve hijabi professionals in Spring–Fall of 2009. Subjects were selected using snowball sampling beginning with my own initial personal contacts in several public and private universities in Istanbul, their friends and acquaintances from work or university, and finally the alumni networks of Bogazici University, Turkey' most prestigious university. 6 These women are not representative of all covered women in Turkey or in Istanbul; rather they constitute a small minority set of highly educated, middle to upper-middle class Muslim women, belonging to the new conservative Turkish elite. Since I could not follow my student interviewees over time in order to directly witness the evolution of their professional life, I chose to compare the aspirations of girls who are

310

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

students today with the experiences of women who are already professionals. Although my subjects often discussed their faith and decision to cover with me, this was not the focus of the study; “wearing a hijab” was thus used here simply as a sociological variable allowing the selection of a specific research population. In Turkey, it is a sociological fact that women who wear a hijab face structural obstacles that limit their educational and especially professional choices. On the one hand, specific regulations prevent covered women from studying in certain universities, working in many public sector jobs, or being elected to public office, 7 and on the other hand, they experience informal anti-headscarf discrimination from many employers who regularly hesitate or refuse to work with a covered woman. With one exception, where an assistant-translator participated, interviews were all conducted in English, one-on-one, and lasted approximately three hours each. In eight cases (seven students and one professional), the subjects chose to answer the questions in writing, either because of time constraints (when the interviewee resided outside of Istanbul) or because they preferred to remain anonymous. Because of the highly politicized media debates on the headscarf that continue to dominate the issue in Turkey today, many young hijabi are reluctant to participate in interviews on this subject. In this context, my position as an outsider, a female foreign nonMuslim academic proved quite helpful in making initial contacts (Wolf, 1996). Finally, all interviews were then entirely transcribed, coded, and analyzed using the qualitative analysis software ATLAS.ti. Hijabi students Although a small number of private and one public university did not entirely enforce the ban at the time of the interviews, the question of the headscarf ban in high schools and universities was omnipresent for these girls and had a big impact on their educational experience, their relations with faculty and with other students. In most cases, they had studied in public or private high schools where they could not wear a headscarf and thus began wearing a headscarf all day after graduating from high school. In universities where the ban was strictly enforced, students were generally allowed to wear hats or wigs on top of their headscarves, which they experienced as an uncomfortable but necessary alternative. Overall, covered students remained keenly aware of their difference from other non-covered students, but also of their chance to be enrolled in some of the best universities in Turkey; perhaps for this reason they all expressed an overwhelming enthusiasm and appreciation for studying. Educational aspirations Education and knowledge are highly valued in Islam, as several hadith and verses of the Qur'an attest. Although such sayings originally referred to religious knowledge, most Muslims today interpret them as injunctions to seek knowledge and education more generally. 8 In the Turkish context, contemporary Islamic movements such as that of Fethullah Gülen have put a particular emphasis on education and teaching as the central purpose of one's life as a

dutiful Muslim (Zengin, 2008). Likewise, my interviewees emphasized the importance of university education for them, their parents, and also their religion: We've been taught since we were small that education is important in Islam, you are supposed to study, there are hadiths saying “seek knowledge even if it is as far as China”, stuff like that. Literature major, 21 years old. In the specific context of Turkey, university education has also become a way for hijabi women to become visible in society through their knowledge (including their ability to speak English) and not simply their dress code. Many students spoke of this desire to show Turkish society more generally that, contrary to widespread stereotypes, practicing Muslims are not ignorant, and can succeed in the most prestigious universities. My student subjects reported numerous experiences of negative stereotyping, inside and outside of the classroom; from getting lower grades than their non-covered counterparts for the same work, to being questioned about their beliefs or their interest in other academic subjects than theology. Several girls discussed being repeatedly harassed about their decision to cover by individual lecturers or faculty advisors encouraging them, more or less kindly, to uncover. For lack of space, I cannot quote them here, but these examples did convey to me the impression that covered and non-covered girls have a very different experience of university-life. I think it is important to show that people like me exist. I mean, a hijabi can also enter Bogazici. English language teaching major, 21 years old. Especially being a covered girl and going to the best university in Turkey brought me more respect and also a little bit of jealousy from people who do not like covered women. Because these people do not want us to be educated and be in high positions. Philosophy major, 21 years old. In one specific case, a student expressed this desire to be educated explicitly as a form of Jihad, a struggle to fight the stereotypes omnipresent in Turkish society: Then I decided that if I do not go to university and become a well-rounded person, there will be one less person in the future to teach the next generation about the beauty of Islam. Also I took the issue as a Jihad. If I do not go to the university that I've deserved by winning the exam [ÖSS] – I entered my department with the highest marks of that academic year – then my place may be taken by someone who has nothing to do with religion. Thus in the end people who think and live like me will be excluded from intellectual society; and society will be ruled by the people of the opposite ideology. American literature and culture major, 22 years old. This quest to show Turkish society that they are as intelligent and competent as non-hijabis was paired with a

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

strong desire to expand their horizons as individuals, meet new people, and open up to the world more generally. As one student put it: College education enhances your horizon, makes you wiser and so you understand/see things with different aspects. It is something that all the women, who are tired to be imprisoned in their homes for no reason, should ask for and get somehow. Economics major, 20 years old. Overwhelmingly, the students interviewed expressed enthusiasm for university life and all the opportunities this experience brought them, even more so if they came to study in Istanbul from a small provincial city. If we compare these responses to Göle's (1996) research in the 1980s, students today are much more individualistic in their description of the university years as a personal emotional and knowledge quest. However, this individual educational experience remains coupled both with a sense of social duty to their family (for the sacrifices they might have endured to support their daughter's education), and a sense of ethical duty towards the Turkish Muslim community and the Turkish nation more broadly, as hijabi. Because of the extreme difficulties faced by Turkish youth on the road to university (a very competitive university entrance exam, financial limitations, and (previously) the headscarf ban), these students were deeply aware of representing a very small and fortunate minority. 9 Professional aspirations and desire for autonomy When we turn to students' professional aspirations, overwhelmingly, they described work as a means to serve or change Turkish society, and to be influential by communicating their ideas as covered women: I really wanna live in a democratic and liberal country and that is why I want to work. I [also] think we need to start doing something to change this thing [hijab ban]. Foreign language education major, 21 years old. Because as my religion asks me, I have to do my best for humanity. In order to do so, we need to use any means necessary brought to us by this age. Now that its time for know-how, the best way to carry out this duty is to take our place in this society built on this principle. Sociology major, 24 years old. Perhaps because these students will graduate from some of Turkey's best universities, they seek to be part of the intellectual and cultural elite of their country, rather than remain invisible as their mothers and grand-mothers have been. Indeed, the educational gap between this generation of university-educated covered women and their mothers is striking. In this sample of middle to upper-middle class women, only three out of twenty-two students interviewed had mothers who had graduated from university, out of which only two were working outside of the home. Most mothers had only received a primary school education, and two were illiterate.10 As girls from mostly upper middle-class families with few financial problems, they rarely spoke of employment in terms

311

of financial gain: “Now I don't have any money problem, but if I have to work for money of course I will work” (Philosophy major, 21 years old). In that sense, their future profession was sometimes described more as a pleasant and also useful occupation in continuation of their studies rather than an indispensable element of their future livelihood: “Earning money is not too important for me, the work that I do will be more important than earning money.” (Chemical engineering major, 21 years old). The apparent lack of concern for financial issues in some responses, which could imply a reliance on their families or future husbands as breadwinners, was coupled however with a strong desire by other respondents to be socially and financially independent from men: I believe that every woman has the right to stand on her own feet. It is hard to defy patriarchy today. As a Muslim hijabi woman, I think we need to break the taboo that Islam puts women in an inferior position, and I'll do my best to do so. Economics major, 20 years old. As a woman it is specifically important to earn my own money, which in other words means to have strength. I believe it is not about being a Muslim or a non Muslim […] I am a smart woman, I can make my own money, I do not want to be dependent on my family anymore, or on my future husband. American culture and literature major, 22 years old. I study industrial engineering. […] I think a woman has to work in today's world, and a woman should not rely on men. For example, if a man works and the woman expects money, she is passive, and there is no equality. I ask for economical freedom. Industrial engineer, 20 years old. Although it is difficult to generalize, with a small sample of twenty-one students who might or might not work after graduation and especially after marriage, the strong contrast between their educational and professional aspirations, and the experiences of their mothers should be highlighted. Students did not identify with the housewife role-model that most of them saw at home, preferring instead to focus on their studies, their individual development, and their future profession before thinking about marriage and domestic issues. Several respondents also justified their aspiration to work and fully participate in Turkish society with feminist readings of Islamic texts, and in particular of the biographies of the Prophet's wives Hatice (Khadijah) and Ayse (Aisha) who were both very active outside of the home. It should be noted that these two references have become a common trope of contemporary readings of the Qur'an by young educated Muslim women in other European countries as well (Weibel, 2000, 23–25). Hatice in particular, a powerful and independent business woman (but also wife and mother), was systematically cited as an example by both my student and working interviewees. 11 Pessimism and the lack of working hijabi role-models When discussing their ideal choice of professions, despite their academic enthusiasm and abilities, students remained

312

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

pessimistic and overwhelmed by the anti-headscarf discrimination they expected to face on the job market. Many answers began with statements such as: “If I could choose really… If there was no scarf thing… I am not that optimistic about my future career… Hopefully, I will…” showing overall a discouraged attitude toward the opportunities available to hijabi university graduates. Many students chose to delay their entrance into the workplace by applying for a Masters degree in Turkey or abroad. Thus their ideal professional aspirations could not really be discussed, since a priori, they knew that they could not work in government offices, in politics, in public schools or universities, or in any top jobs in the private sector. Most probably for this reason, many students talked about working in the media “somehow”, in clerical jobs, or as teachers in private schools. They did not really allow themselves to develop the more diverse and ambitious professional dreams that would be expected of bilingual graduates from prestigious universities. The scarcity of hijabi working women as visible role models in Turkish society is one of the biggest problems facing these students and recent graduates today. Although widespread discrimination against covered women on the job market remains a reality, there are also a growing number of hijabi professionals who could potentially counsel these students. But for the moment, despite the increasing development of specialized alumni networks such as Bogazici University Reunion Association [(Bogazici Universiteliler Dernegi), BURA)]12 the information flow remains low and contacts between students and professionals are quite limited. Conclusion of student results These interviews highlight the pioneering position in which the current generation of 20–25 year old covered women are placed today, both vis-à-vis their own families and vis-à-vis Turkish society more generally. While girls from upper middleclass urban and secular families have been encouraged to study and work since the early Republican days, women from more traditional, provincial, and less affluent families were lucky to receive an elementary school education, and very rarely worked outside the home, family farm, or business. As several scholars have recently underlined, the reforms implemented in the early years of the Turkish Republic benefited a small and elite group of women, which Arat (2000) calls the “daughters of the Republic”, while leaving out the majority of women from less privileged and more traditional backgrounds (Turam, 2007). The hijabi students currently enrolled or recently graduated from the most prestigious universities are thus the actors of a major sociological change, taking place in Turkish society today, which could have a tremendous impact on future generations. If these young women prolong their studies with professional careers and continue working once they have a family, for the first time, a significant number of conservative yet educated working women will serve as role models of success for Turkish girls, alongside non-covered women from the secular economic and cultural elite. Hijabi professionals The women whose experiences we will now turn to represent a very diverse range of professions, from psychotherapist to architect, from business manager to IT expert or

journalist. With one exception, all interviewees spoke English and worked either in their own business, or in a private or public firm unrelated to their family. Through these interviews, one of the main objectives was to better understand the paths that led these particular women to find such positions and succeed in their professional life, while the vast majority of covered women in Turkey today either do not work outside the home, have difficulties finding a job which corresponds to their educational background and aspirations, or are employed in family-owned businesses (where the competition to obtain a position is less intense). In response to the aforementioned fears of hijabi university students, I sought to understand why certain women did indeed succeed to fulfill (for the most part) their aspirations. The worsening position of Turkish women on the job market in recent years urges for a better comprehension of their employment experiences. Indeed, as Cindoğlu's (2010, 30) recent study explains, the percentage of working women in Turkey has significantly decreased in the past twenty years (1988–2008) from 34.3% to 21.6%, and most surprisingly, the percentage of highly educated working women has also decreased from 80.3% to 70%. Among other economic factors, in particular a scarcity of jobs for young graduates,13 this decrease could also be seen as a reflection of the difficulties (and discouragement) faced by an increasing number of educated hijabi women upon entering the job market. As more girls, including covered girls, are graduating from university, a smaller percentage of these girls are now able to enter the labor force. Finally, while this is difficult to quantify, recurrent pro-natalist comments by Prime Minister Erdoğan (encouraging Turkish women to have at least three children) most probably have an impact on the life-choices of young women, especially in more traditional families (Hürriyet, 2008).

Finding a position and facing anti-headscarf discrimination Contrary to their non-covered peers from elite universities, because of a generalized anti-headscarf discrimination on the part of private employers in Turkey, hijabi women rarely find their first position through newspaper adverts or employment websites. Overwhelmingly, my subjects found their jobs through friends, relatives, or alumni networks. Several respondents reported getting interview invitations from corporations easily (because of their high level of education and ability to speak English), only to be turned down abruptly in the face-to-face interview because of their headscarf: I went to a lot of interviews, the secretary would look at me, and then they just try to make me understand the situation, without hurting me but at the same time they try to show me that it is not possible. Just 10 minutes talk and I go, 10 minute and I go, each interview was like that. Import–export operations, 27 years old. Another woman explained how she posted her CV with a picture of herself with the headscarf on a popular employment website for several months without any success. She then decided to remove the picture, as a test, and sure enough in the next few days she received several interview invitations. Clearly, employers liked her educational and professional background, but not her scarf.

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

The reluctance of Turkish employers to hire covered women as professionals can be quite independent from their own political or religious inclinations; rather it is part of a general marketing strategy aimed at presenting Turkey and Turkish businesses as secular and Western, closer to Europe than to the Middle-East. And while religiously conservative corporations might hire covered women more easily in entrylevel positions, they rarely promote them because of traditional patriarchal ideas on the role and visibility of women (Turam, 2007). The situation in public institutions depends on the political affiliation of the municipality. In AKP municipalities, covered women have been able to find positions in public offices but mostly in clerical jobs with no upper mobility and a lower pay than similar jobs in the private sector. While these jobs offer relatively good working conditions (generally eight hour days, five days per week) compared to the six workday weeks in the private sector, they are tied to the current political situation; a change of municipal government would probably cost covered women their jobs if they refused to remove their scarves. While political clientelism is widespread in Turkey (Güneş-Ayata, 1990, 1994), in this particular case it has direct gendered consequences, as the symbolic importance placed on the headscarf by opposing political parties causes women, very literally, to obtain or lose a job. On the other hand, the political or religious opinions of men are generally ignored so long as their professional performance is satisfactory. Furthermore, while wearing a scarf seriously reduces one's chances of obtaining support from one side of the political spectrum, it is also sometimes not enough for the other side. One interviewee, a psychologist who is pious, covered, but does not support the current AKP government or have any personal ties in Istanbul district municipalities, reportedly tried for months to get support to open a mental health clinic, without any success. 14 While Republican People's Party [(Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi, CHP)] municipalities would not listen to a project presented by a covered woman and even refused to meet her, AKP municipalities seemed to reserve their help to their own network of supporters; in the end, she had to abandon the project. In addition to consciously not hiring hijabi women, even when they are highly qualified for the position, many private companies will limit these women to certain positions where they are not in contact with the public and where they are invisible. Many Turkish businessmen consider hijabi employees as a liability for their company's image, and even sometimes their own (Eğrikavuk, 2009). There is a fear that Turkish customers or firms might hesitate to work with a company labeled as conservative or religious. In contrast, all respondents noted greater acceptance on the part of non-Turks:

313

The lack of job mobility into higher-visibility positions in management or sales can be particularly frustrating for these young educated ambitious women, especially if it is coupled with excessively low salaries. Professional hijabis all report being paid, at least at first, much less than their non-covered counterparts because companies take advantage of the very tight job market for these women: I have a close friend, she was a covered woman, she had no health insurance, and her salary was much lower than that of a non-covered woman. So now she uncovered; there are a lot of problems like that. She is not happy but she didn't have a choice, her salary was 1000 and the normal salary 4000… so she uncovered. Assistant to the general manager, 32 years old. [My manager] he was always telling me, “this is the best job you can get, you have no experience, people know you so don't make the mistake of leaving, these chances are the best chances you have”, though my salary was very very low and I was doing many things in my job, but they could tell me this. I tried a lot to find another job and I realized that he was right… Import–export operations, 27 years old. This situation can lead to despair and a rejection of working life all together. In these cases, some hijabi women will choose to give up a career and dedicate themselves to their families or other non-profit activities rather than bear the daily humiliation of being employed in unrewarding jobs. Other women choose (or dream) to go abroad, often to the US, and begin a totally new life far from the restrictions of Turkish society. Gender relations at work Once they have secured a position, how does their career evolve over time? At first, many covered women experience an unusually long (one to three years) trial period during which they are in a sense tested by the company management and their colleagues to see if they are living up to expectations in terms of intelligence, industriousness, or ability to speak English. This exceptional situation seems to be correlated with the perceived risk of hiring a covered woman. My respondents explained how they tried to take this unsettling experience as a challenge while keeping their minds focused on long-term goals. In many cases, this involved accepting humiliating situations and putting their social and/or personal life on hold:

When people see me, they don't know if I am the manager or not. 10–15 years ago, covered women were only used to serve tea. […] There is more respect for practicing Muslims outside of Turkey. People know that Muslims have special rules and they respect that. Purchasing manager, 32 years old.

In the first two or three years, it was really difficult. For example a man will works two hours, a woman will work three hours, and a covered woman will work four hours for the same job. […] In that company there were departments, every department manager had a car, I didn't have a car. I was a woman, and in addition, a covered woman. I never asked why, I knew the reason. Chief Commercial Officer, 35 years old.

When there are meetings abroad, I am sent to countries in the Middle East but never to Russia or Europe. They send my assistant instead because she is not covered. Import–export operations, 27 years old.

I started and in the first two weeks, my boss didn't say hi to me. He was passing my door, he saw me, I saw him, he didn't even say hi to me, and I was feeling very uncomfortable […] But when he heard me speak English,

314

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

he suddenly changed his attitude towards me and he became so kind, the first time he said hi to me, he passed my door, he entered and he came beside me smiling, and he said good evening, see you tomorrow. Import–export operations, 27 years old. In many cases, interviewees report being treated differently simply because they were women, rather than covered women, and recalled their fight for respect and recognition from their male colleagues and superiors: To be a woman is hard, as an Assistant especially, because I was educated, and I had to do everything… They asked me for coffee, tea, drinks, etc. If I had been a man, it would have been different of course. […] In this case, you have two choices: either “I will show them what I can do” or you refuse, leave the job and go back home and sit. They don't know you, they don't know who you are, you have to show them yourself what you can do. I did this for two years and then I got promoted. Purchasing manager, 32 years old. At the beginning, they never listen to you, for almost two or three months, you are mad, they give the report to the manager who is a man not to you; they are talking about you [behind your back] but with time they learn that you are the manager. Chief Commercial Officer, 35 years old. Single hijabi working women For these women, struggles at the workplace are often compounded to the difficulty of finding an understanding yet equally religious husband who would be willing to accept their independent lifestyle. Many women interviewed in this study were single, and claimed that this was a growing trend among educated hijabi women in Turkey, first because there were few single conservative men in their entourage, and also because many men hesitated to marry a professional woman: Yes, I want that [marriage, children] but it's really difficult to find a good man to marry. Because for the conservative part, I am so modern, for the ‘other’ part, I am so conservative. From my side, it should be someone who can live with me as modern and also accept me like that [covered]. For example, I have lots of friends from the non-conservative part — liberal friends. They think, she is a nice girl, a nice friend. But for marrying, it's really difficult to have a covered wife. Chief Commercial Officer, 35 years old. Many Turkish women stop working after they marry in order to dedicate themselves entirely to their family (Beşpınar, 2010). This is the case for both hijabi and non-hijabi women, although family pressure appears to be stronger for hijabi women to marry at a young age and care for their children themselves: For this project, I hired four young purchasing candidates; only one was covered. But this girl, six months ago she married, and three months ago she left the job, she left the job! The other three [the non-covered ones], they will

become managers. I don't know why she left the job. At the beginning, they are full of dreams and energy, ‘I will be a cosmonaut, a journalist, everything’ but I think they graduate at 23–24 years old, after two or three years, they must be married. Because of their families, because they are expected to have children, they have conservative families who are pushing for that. The others are single, so do you understand what I am saying to you? This is because for Hatice, for Zeynep, for Buşra, it's the same problem. For a conservative husband, we are not the ideal wife. Chief Commercial Officer, 35 years old. This issue of finding an appropriate partner has taken such proportions that some hijabi business women are even considering not getting married, not having children at all, or adopting one if marriage does not materialize: Having children?.. I don't know, I would do without it as well, it is not something compulsory at all, getting married is not compulsory as well. Import–export operations, 27 years old. I want to have a baby in the future, but I have a pretty clear rule: to marry the one I love. I will not marry someone I don't love, so I might not marry anyways. But in any case, I want to have a baby, and if I don't marry, I will ADOPT one [emphasis in the text]. To me, what matters is not giving birth, but to be with the baby and share the life, be with him/her through hard times. That's why I seriously consider adopting. This part of my life does not influence my career. My emotions are under control about this issue. General manager, 30 years old. Married hijabi working women and working mothers On the other hand, the women who were married all reported sharing domestic responsibilities with their husbands. Likewise, the women who were not married but were in the process of getting engaged reported extensively discussing these issues with their potential future husbands. My husband participates in everything, always, he helps me a lot in everything. Assistant to the general manager, 32 years old. Yes we talk [about sharing domestic duties with potential future husband]. For example, he told me that he can help me of course because at the end we're home at the same time, maybe he'll be at home earlier than me, so he'll prepare, he'll help me, and my brother helps his wife, my sister's husband helps her, this is like this, they should do it. Import–export operations, 27 years old. These somewhat surprising results (about marriage, children, and sharing domestic responsibilities), in a study of pious Muslim women in Turkey, demonstrate that traditional family values are no longer dominant for many urban, educated, upper-middle class hijabi women. Rather, it appears that young women, who are determined to have a career and lead a fulfilling independent life, will chose to

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

pursue their dreams even if this means significantly delaying family life. It also shows that, although my respondents think that many conservative men do not prefer to marry a working woman, there are some men within the new generation who can be very supportive of their wives' careers. While the women that I talked to strongly opposed the idea of stopping to work for a man, they did consider staying at home for a few months up to two years to raise their children. Their responses to questions regarding motherhood and work did not show any specificity due to their religious beliefs. Rather their answers seemed to indicate that, once a woman has decided to develop her professional career and has been engaged in that process for a number of years, she will not abandon her career for family life but rather try to combine the two. However, it should be noted that the women interviewed for this study were all professionals or middle managers who found their employment socially and intellectually stimulating; the lives of Turkish working women at the bottom of the career ladder are quite different, as White has aptly shown (White, 1991, 1994, 2007). When discussing the difficulties of being a working mother, my subjects brought forward issues regarding breastfeeding while working, childcare (daycare centers versus private/family babysitters), working hours, and the emotional difficulty of juggling between the two identities of mother and professional. At no point did religion enter the discussion as a criterion regulating the way they organized their family life. Overwhelmingly, if the woman worked, interviewees saw no contradiction in Islam for her to pay for one or several housekeepers to take care of domestic issues: People in my company, they don't want me to work [because she has a small child]. According to them, I have to live in my home and the man should work. But at home I don't do anything, this is not good for me. [So she hired a housekeeper]. The lady does everything, she cleans, cooks, etc. Assistant to the general manager, 32 years old. Even now people say ‘your husband has a good income and you have good home, you can get what you want, you don't have to work, you don't have to go outside to work’, even my readers say “oh you have a one year old baby, how will you leave her”, and I tell them that if I am happy then my daughter is happy, if I am not happy, my daughter will not be happy either […] If you have work experience from before it is very hard to stay at home, if you're covered or not, you begin to think I will never be able to go out again. Writer and IT specialist, 29 years old (pregnant with her 2nd child).

The working mothers that I interviewed explained their desire to continue working despite having small children because it brought them individual fulfillment and happiness. They could not see themselves sitting at home. Yet, at the same time, they faced strong opposition sometimes from their families, but also from their work colleagues, bosses, professional and personal entourage. As several interviewees explained, in addition to being very expensive, it is still seen as shameful and/or risky to put a small child in a daycare center or leave him/her with a private nanny. Therefore, Turkish mothers are generally expected to raise their children themselves (unless they can get help from

315

family members), which seriously reduces the possibility of maintaining or developing a professional career for women who cannot find that support. On women's rights and political involvement In light of the discussions above, it was expected that such strong, talented, and independent women would be willing to get involved politically or in local NGOs to fight for better living and working conditions for all women in Turkey, or at least for other hijabi women. Yet, when pressed to give their opinion on what could be done for Turkish women more generally and how Turkish society could be changed, they either avoided the question, or returned to the omnipresent ideological divide between supporters and opponents of the headscarf ban. Historically, the Turkish feminist movement developed within the political left and has promoted a staunchly secular point of view (Y. Arat, 2009; Marshall, 2008; Özcurumez & Cengiz, 2010). The headscarf is still considered by many (but not all) Turkish feminists as a symbol of the oppression of women in Islam, making it difficult for them to unite with covered women around issues of concern to all Turkish women (such as domestic violence, childcare options, or gender equality in the workplace). Likewise, many hijabi women still associate Western-style feminism with a general rejection of men and family values, which cannot be easily reconciled with their Muslim beliefs, making it therefore difficult for them to participate in such movements15: In our country [feminists] they say they want to have the same level with the men, they think that marriage will make them slower, less powerful. I don't see things like this because the life, family I came from didn't give me this image, the men in my life didn't make me slower, they always pushed me to work, even when I didn't want to. Writer and IT specialist, 29 years old. As a consequence, the women (in this sample) who wished to be politically active shunned civil society groups and turned to traditional political parties instead: I was in politics, I was leading public relations for the youth group in the AKP, I began directly after university. There were both covered and uncovered women, as well as men in the group. I did this in order to learn how it works; I think that to have rights, you need to be in politics. I don't think social movements can go anywhere. You have to be a part of a group, it's best to be in politics. When you are in politics, people don't want women in politics, it's the same as in working life […] In the AKP, I would have liked to be in the parliament [but could not because of headscarf ban]. In politics you have to fight, harder than at work. You fight from the inside. Purchasing manager, 32 years old. At least three of my interviewees had been active in the AKP but quickly faced a glass ceiling due to the impossibility of being elected as a covered woman. According to them, the only possible (and useful) fight could be done within the system, i.e. within the parliament, to which they did not have access as

316

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

hijabi. As a consequence, first and foremost, they saw it as essential to lift the headscarf ban in order to allow covered women into politics and change things from the inside. On role models Nonetheless, although they rarely participate in civil society organizations, these women are very active in professional and alumni networks. They are deeply aware of the difficulties faced by hijabi university graduates in finding suitable employment, and of the lack of role models in the religious community, especially in government circles: All of the ministers have great daughters who graduated from elite universities but none of them are working. I asked one time [in an AKP meeting], if you think that I am wrong [to be working] according to Islam then tell me? I got no answer… you don't ask this question to a conservative man [she laughs]. They are saying women's first role is to take care of children. That's the problem. If there is such an example at the top of society, the society will follow the top. Chief Commercial Officer, 35 years old. For this reason, hijabi professionals take their own position as role-models very seriously: I think we should show women that they can achieve their dreams and they can be good at what they do, because when I stopped writing for four months, covered women emailed me ‘how can you stop, you are a role model for us, if you don't write, what can we believe, because when you write we believe that a covered woman can be successful, we believe that we can do what we want.’ Writer and IT specialist, 29 years old. One of the projects currently being developed by a group of hijabi professionals is an online network linking hijabi entrepreneurs with each other and with potential investors and funding opportunities. As a response to discrimination on the job market, covered women are currently learning to organize among and for themselves. According to the leader of that network, it is only once these women have enough economic power that male politicians will begin to take them seriously, and beg for their greater participation and involvement in the country's development. The answers and solutions offered by professional hijabis left very little space for the concerns and problems of less educated and less fortunate women. The class divide within the religious community, also described by White (2003, chapter 7) came starkly to light. At no point did the women in my sample preoccupy themselves with the rights and lives of the hijabi women outside their highly educated, middle/upper-middleclass circles. Overwhelmingly, they described professional life (and, to an extent, life in general) as an extremely competitive struggle for which you needed to be strong, determined, and focused, in order to succeed: I always think, ‘If you want to do something as a person, you can do it.’ If you think it's going to be difficult, you can't do it. You have to be focused. Purchasing manager, 32 years old.

To be a manager, they will select the top candidates. So if you are equal to the others, you will never be a manager. You always need to be better than… You have to be better… Chief Commercial Officer, 35 years old. I learned that I am strong, if I want I can do a lot of things. The university [education] allowed me that. I had confidence. I learned to trust myself. Assistant to the general manager, 32 years old. Only one woman in the sample raised the issue of the lack of reasonably priced daycare centers in Turkey and the material difficulties faced by working-mothers, because she was dealing with those problems herself. Conclusion This study presents and analyzes the experiences and aspirations of a sample of Turkish university-educated hijabi women through their own words. Although it would have been most interesting to follow the student interviewees over time, and witness their choices after marriage and especially motherhood, practical considerations made that impossible. For this reason, I decided to separate the study into two parts, one focused on hijabi students and one on hijabi professionals. Fewer than ten years separate the two groups of women, students were around 22 years old on average, while professionals were around 30 years old. Overall, results show that in Turkey today, young university-educated hijabi are aspiring to higher education, professional careers, as well as more equal gender relations at work and at home. They are a pioneer generation, and their sudden visibility in the Turkish public sphere - and most importantly in intellectual, media, and professional circles - is strongly disturbing for both the secular intellectual and cultural elite, and the more conservative community. As Turkish Islamic feminist scholar and activist Dr. Hidayet Tuksal explains, religious women are now in a position to stand on their own two feet and make an active contribution to Turkish society: Those women used to consider going outside and talking to men as a sin, now they no longer think the same way and they just want to exist, be a part of active life. They not only want to realize themselves with motherhood but also with their business and social networks. […] Since the system began to ignore religious women and consider them invisible, so did the religious men. Now those women have become an element that disturbs them both in terms of career plans and visibility [my emphasis]. This situation actually made those women stronger; they came to understand how important it is to stand on their own feet alone. All of them saw how their husbands or religious superiors [had] left them alone and useless. Dr. Hidayet Tuksal (Interview with author, 26 September 2009). This study highlights the fact that although conservative and restrictive religious values might be spreading (or becoming more visible) in Turkey at the moment (Y. Arat, 2010), in parallel, a new group of highly educated independent women is

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

emerging on the public scene and challenging many widespread stereotypes about covered women. In particular, since conservative men have been slow to accept the new professional aspirations of women within their circles (Tuksal, 2009; White, 2003), an increasing number of young educated hijabi are choosing to delay marriage or remain single rather than risk abandoning their dreams. 16 Secondly, this research discusses the discrimination that educated hijabi women face today on the job market in Turkey. While many jobs have been made available in the private and public sector with the rise of the AKP currently in power, these positions are almost always lowpaid clerical or service jobs. Very few hijabi can be found in management positions, especially in conservative companies or municipalities. The common critique to the discrimination argument, namely that it is easier to find a job as a hijabi than as an uncovered woman in AKP municipal offices today, deals with the quantity but not the quality of the aforementioned jobs. Many hijabi university graduates eventually quit their jobs after a few years because of the lack of job mobility and low pay that they experience on the Turkish job market today. For this reason, as the study shows, university hijabi students remain very skeptical about their professional future, despite their high qualifications. While the promoters of traditional patriarchal values often use religious arguments to justify the imposition of limits on women's educational or professional choices (Wadud, 1999, 7–10), most of the educated women interviewed in this study rejected such narrow interpretations. Instead, they did their own readings of religious texts, analyzed the lives of prominent religious figures such as the prophet's first wife, Hatice (Khadijah), and decided that there was no contradiction in Islam to being a working woman, even business woman, or a working mother. Furthermore, several respondents expressed their desire to be more active in local but also national politics, yet they were limited so far by the headscarf ban for public servants. Currently, the Turkish parliament is less than 9% female, there are only two female ministers, and less than 1% of women in local government offices (Ka-der, 2010). To use Y. Arat's (2010) terminology, the “democratic paradox” facing Turkey today is not only the spread of conservative views and practices but the fact that, although they have had suffrage for 76 years now, a majority of Turkish women are currently excluded from politics (Hürriyet Daily News, 2010a,b,c; Hürriyet, 2008). Indeed, if 61 to 69% of Turkish women cover their heads (Çarkoğlu & Toprak, 2007; Konda Araştırma ve Danışmanlık Ltd, 2007), then approximately 30 to 35% of Turkish adults are currently not eligible for any political office. And yet, as Y. Arat's (2005) and White's (2003) work on women in the Welfare Party as well as the interviews presented here have shown, many hijabi women are eager to participate in politics and not necessarily to support the ideas that conservative men would like them to. In particular, these women are adamant about the right for women to work outside of the home, even as mothers of small children. They also strongly support equal representation for women in politics (including positive discrimination policies), and a more equal distribution of family responsibilities, including domestic work, within the home. 17 On the other hand, as noted earlier, class barriers remain strong in Turkey, including within the religious community. As middle to upper-middle-class women, my

317

interviewees seemed mostly insensitive or at best silent, regarding the structural (educational, material, social) limitations faced by working-class Turkish women. As politicians, their actions in favor of women would most probably reflect such class biases. In the upcoming June 2011 parliamentary elections, for the first time since Merve Kavakci in 1999, covered women will run for office (Today's Zaman, 2011). It is the author's belief that, if given a chance, hijabi women are in a position today to fully participate in a redefinition of gender relations in Turkish society alongside secular feminists, as the petition initiated in 2008 by a collective of Turkish feminists (including Dr. Tuksal) advocated (Birbirimize Sahip Çıkıyoruz, 2008): A public sphere where we cannot walk arm in arm is not our public sphere! We, the women, believers and nonbelievers, veiled or not-veiled, those who act within the frame of women's rights and liberties and thus who do not claim “if you are in then I am out”, in a spirit of women's rights and freedoms […] We, the women, reject the control of our bodies in the name of modernism, secularism, republic, religion, tradition, custom, morality, honor or freedom. We, the women are not suspicious of each other, but we look after each other!

Acknowledgements The data analysis for this article was supported by a research grant from Bahcesehir University. I would also like to acknowledge the very helpful comments of my friend and colleague Dr. Allen Scarboro as well as those of the anonymous reviewer. Most importantly, I would like to thank the thirty-three women who kindly accepted to share their experiences and their time with me. End Notes 1 As Ruby (2006) explains, the term “hijab” has complex and multiple interpretations depending on the context. I am using it here as the term used by the women in this study to identify their covering style (“hijab”) and themselves (“hijabi”). The Turkish media began using the term “türban” in the 1980s to refer to a new covering style which completely covers head and neck, and is distinct from the loose scarves worn traditionally by rural Turkish women (Göle, 1996, p.6). However “türban” is rejected by many urban hijabi who prefer the more general terms “hijab” or “başörtüsü” (headscarf). 2 According to a Turkey-wide representative survey, the proportion of covered women has risen from 64.2% in 2003 to 69.4% in 2007. In particular, the proportion of women wearing a hijab (or türban), has dramatically risen from 3.5% in 2003 to 16.3% in 2007, and the proportion of hijabi university graduates from 2.6% to 11.4%. In total, the proportion of university graduates who are covered in some way has risen from 10.5% to 26.6% in four years countrywide (Konda Araştırma ve Danışmanlık Ltd, 2007, 12). It should be noted however that only 5.4% of Turkish women were university educated in 2000 (TurkStat, 2010). 3 The first but still most extensive study on covered university students in Turkey is Göle's (1996)Forbidden Modern: Civilization and Veiling. However, her fieldwork took place in 1987, at a time when very few covered students were enrolled in higher education; for this small number of hijabi students, it appears, studying was seen as both a religious obligation and a way to guarantee a quality upbringing to their future children, not to prepare them for a professional future (Göle, 1996, 99–105). 4 There are no statistics on the number of covered versus non-covered employees, but a simple visit to any AKP municipality would confirm this situation. Although legally, women should not be working with a headscarf in public offices or companies, this rule has been generally ignored with the

318

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319

exception of K-12 schools, courthouses, and hospitals where it is still enforced. 5 If 16.2% of adult women wear a hijab or türban and 5.6% of hijabi are university-educated, then 0.9% of Turkish adult women are universityeducated hijabi. This number does not include women who are currently enrolled in universities (Konda Araştırma ve Danışmanlık Ltd, 2007, 8–11). 6 Among the twenty-one students: six studied at Bogazici univ., five at Yildiz Teknik univ., one at Fatih univ., one at Istanbul univ., one at Hacettepe univ., two at Sabanci univ., one at Middle East Technical univ., one at Newport univ., one at Marmara univ., one at Beykent univ., one at Sakarya univ. Among the twelve professionals: four studied at Near East univ. in Northern Cyprus, three at Bogazici univ., three at Istanbul univ., one at Marmara univ., and one at Beykent univ. 7 The first and only hijabi woman elected to the Turkish parliament was Merve Kavakci in 1999 as a candidate for the Virtue Party [(Fazilet Partisi, FP)]. However she was prevented from serving her term due to her headscarf. The Virtue Party was closed down and Kavakci's Turkish citizenship revoked, banning her from politics for a period of five years. She is currently an academic at George Washington University (Kavakci, 2010). 8 It should be noted that some Muslim groups claim that such recommendations to seek knowledge are only intended for men (the destruction by the Taliban of schools for girls in Afghanistan is an example of such a view). However, as Amina Wadud (2006) has shown, this gender discrimination with regards to education does not appear in the text of the Qur'an itself. 9 The conception of life/work as a service [hizmet] to humanity is also a central concept in the teachings of Fethullah Gülen (Zengin, 2008, 195–196). Although most of the students interviewed did not belong to the community, they were generally sympathetic to its ideas and actions. 10 The two mothers who did not attend school at all had been refused schooling by their fathers, and married as teenagers. They eventually learned to read as adults, and strongly supported their daughters' educational and professional aspirations. 11 Sibel Eraslan recently published a fascinating fictional biography of Hatice (Eraslan, 2009). 12 There are currently two alumni associations at Bogazici university, BUMED [Bogazici Universitesi Mezunlar Dernegi] founded in 1985, and BURA founded in 2003. According to one of the founders of BURA who was interviewed for this study, this association was created by more conservative students who wanted a group focused on job networking, cultural activities, academic conferences or travel and did not feel totally at home in BUMED. These differences can be seen explicitly in the online description of BURA which makes repeated references to morality and spirituality (BURA, 2011). 13 The employment rate of young people (15–24 years old) in Turkey (as registered in government statistics) is low: in 2010 it was 30% overall, 40.2% for boys, 20.3% for girls (TurkStat, 2011). 14 There are 39 districts in the Greater Municipality of Istanbul (IBB). http:// www.ibb.gov.tr/tr-TR/kurumsal/BelediyeMeclisi/Pages/Belediyeler.aspx. (Date of retrieval: 07 December 2010). 15 None of my interviewees (with the exception of Dr. Tuksal) was aware of the existence of “Islamic Feminist” writings and networks either in Turkey or outside of Turkey (Marshall, 2008; McGinty, 2007, 481; Wadud, 2006). 16 As Tuksal explains: “Men who live in the big cities have changed considerably. They got used the idea of women who work and travel. However, in the smaller cities traditions are very strong. Change is very difficult.” (Interview with the author, 26 September 2009). 17 In an effort to influence the upcoming parliamentary elections in June 2011, a group of prominent Islamic female intellectuals (Yıldız Ramazanoğlu, Hidayet Tuksal, Nihal Bengisu Karaca, Hilal Kaplan, Cihan Aktaş among others) have just launched a petition entitled “Başörtülü Aday Yoksa Oy da Yok!” [If there is no covered candidate there will be no vote!]. They claim there is no legal barrier in the Turkish constitution for the election of a covered female deputy, and call for all political parties to nominate covered women as an important step toward equal political representation (Başörtülü Aday Yoksa Oy da Yok!, 2011).

References Arat, Zehra F. (2000). Educating the daughters of the Republic. In Zehra Arat (Ed.), Deconstructing images of the Turkish woman (pp. 1–36). New York: St. Martin's Press. Arat, Yeşim (2005). Rethinking Islam and liberal democracy: Islamist women in Turkish politics. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Arat, Yeşim (2009). Religion, politics and gender equality in Turkey: Implications of a democratic paradox. Geneva: UNRISD. Arat, Yeşim (2010). Religion, politics and gender equality in Turkey: Implications of a democratic paradox? Third World Quarterly, 31(6), 869–884. Aycan, Zeynep (2004). Key Success factors for women in management in Turkey. Applied Psychology: An International Review, 53(3), 453–477. Başörtülü Aday Yoksa Oy da Yok! (2011). Başörtülü Aday Yoksa Oy da Yok! http://basortuluadayyoksaoydayok.wordpress.com/ Date of retrieval: 30 March 2011 BBC News Europe (2008). Court annuls Turkish scarf reform. 5 June. http:// news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7438348.stm Date of retrieval: 06 December 2010 Beşpınar, F. Umut (2010). Questioning agency and empowerment: Women's work-related strategies and social class in urban Turkey. Women's Studies International Forum, 33, 523–532. Birbirimize Sahip Çıkıyoruz (2008). http://www.birbirimizesahipcikiyoruz. blogspot.com/ Date of retrieval: 07 December 2010 Boğaziçi Üniversiteliler Derneği (BURA) (2011, March 29). Bura Derneği Ana Tüzük. http://www.bura.org.tr/bilgi.asp?id=6 Date of retrieval Çandar, Cengiz (1997, Junee). Post-modern darbe [Post-modern coup]. Sabah, 27. Çarkoğlu, Ali, & Toprak, Binnaz (2007). Religion, society and politics in a changing Turkey. Istanbul: Tesev Editions. Cindoğlu, Dilek (2010). Başörtüsü Yasağı ve Ayrımcılık: Iş Hayatinda Meslek Sahibi Başörtülü Kadınlar. Istanbul: Tesev Publications. Eğrikavuk, Işıl (2009, July 9). Are women with headscarves the ‘other’ of Islamic men? Hürriyet Daily News. Eraslan, Sibel (2009). Çöl/Deniz-Hz. Timaş: Hatice. Istanbul. ESI (2005). Islamic Calvinists: Change and conservatism in Central Anatolia. www.esiweb.org Göle, Nilüfer (1996). Forbidden modern: Civilization and veiling. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press. Güneş-Ayata, Ayşe (1990). Class and clientelism in the Republican People's Party. In Nükhet Sirman, & Andrew Finkel (Eds.), Turkish state, Turkish society (pp. 159–184). London: Routledge. Güneş-Ayata, Ayşe (1994). Roots and trends of clientelism in Turkey. In Ayşe Güneş-Ayata, & Luis Roniger (Eds.), Democracy, clientelism and civil society (pp. 51–63). Boulder: Rienner. Hürriyet (2008, March 07). Erdoğan: En az üç çocuk doğurun. Hürriyet Daily News (2010a). Headscarf issue news (ongoing series of reports). http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/t.php?t=headscarf%20issue Retrieved on 28 December 2010 Hürriyet Daily News (2010, December 06b). Turkish women celebrate 76th anniversary of women's suffrage with higher hopes. Hürriyet Daily News (2010, October 04c). YÖK's Rx for Turkey's headscarf quagmire: Don't ask, wear!. Ka-der (2010). 2010 Kadin Istatistikleri [Statistics on women in 2010]. http:// www.ka-der.org.tr/tr/down/2010_KADIN_ISTATISTIKLERI.pdf Retrieved on 13 December 2010 Kandiyoti, Deniz (1987). Emancipated but unliberated? Reflections on the Turkish case. Feminist Studies, 13(2), 317–338. Kandiyoti, Deniz (1991). End of empire: Islam, nationalism and women in Turkey. In Deniz Kandiyoti (Ed.), Women, Islam and the State (pp. 22–47). Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Kandiyoti, Deniz (2010). Gender and women's studies in Turkey: A moment for reflection? New Perspectives on Turkey, 43, 165–176. Kavakci, Merve (2010). Dr. Merve Kavakci — Biography. http://www. mervekavakci.net/biography.php Retrieved on 13 December 2010 Konda Araştırma ve Danışmanlık Ltd (2007). Religion, secularism and the veil in daily life. http://www.konda.com.tr/html/dosyalar/ghdl&t_en.pdf Date of retrieval: 14 December 2010 Küskü, Fatma, Özbilgin, Mustafa, & Özkale, Lerzan (2007). Against the tide: Gendered prejudice and disadvantage in engineering. Gender, Work and Organization, 14(2), 109–129. Mardin, Şerif (1972, Winterr). Center-periphery relations: A key to Turkish politics. Deadalus, 102, 169–190. Mardin, Şerif (1989). Religion and social change in modern Turkey: The case of Bediüzzaman Said Nursi. New York: State University of New York Press. Marshall, Gul A. (2008). A question of compatibility: Feminism and Islam in Turkey. Middle East Critique, 17(3), 223–238. McGinty, Anna M. (2007). Formation of alternative femininities through Islam: Feminist approaches among Muslim converts in Sweden. Women's Studies International Forum, 30, 474–485. Narli, Nilüfer (1999). The tension between the center and peripheral economy and the rise of a counter business elite in Turkey. Les Annales de l'Autre Islam, 6 (Formes nouvelles de l'Islam en Turquie) (pp. 55–72). Özbilgen, Fusun (2008). Academic: Interact with the women underneath the headscarf! Bianet, 05 February. http://bianet.org/english/gender/104658academic-interact-with-the-women-underneath-the-headscarf Date of retrieval: 07 December 2010

B. Jelen / Women's Studies International Forum 34 (2011) 308–319 Özcurumez, Saime, & Cengiz, Feyda (2010). On resilience and response beyond value change: Transformation of women's movement in post1980 Turkey. Women's Studies International Forum. doi:10.1016/j.wsif. 2010.09.015. Pinar, Musa, Eser, Zeliha, Russell Hardin, J., & Russell, J. (2007, Falll). A qualitative study of the recruiting of men and women for sales positions in Turkey. Sex Roles, 57, 879–888. Refig, Halil (2008, Springg). Woman's turban is sign of rebellion against Ataturk. News Perspectives Quarterly, 40–42. Ruby, Tabassum F. (2006). Listening to the voices of hijab. Women's Studies International Forum, 29, 54–66. Saktanber, Ayşe (2002). Women, religion and the politization of culture in Turkey. London: I.B. Tauris. Saktanber, Ayşe, & Çorbacıoğlu, Gül (2008). Veiling and headscarf-skepticism in Turkey. Social Politics: International Studies in Gender, State and Society, 15, 514–538. Shankland, David (2003). The Alevis in Turkey: The emergence of a secular Islamic tradition. London: Routledge. Today's Zaman (2011, March 16). No legal barriers to becoming MP for headscarf-wearing women. Today's Zaman (2010, November 11). YÖK considers headscarf and coefficient issues solved. Turam, Berna (2007). Between Islam and the State: The politics of engagement. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Turam, Berna (2008). Turkish women divided by politics: secularist activism versus pious non-resistance. International Journal of Politics, 10(4), 475–494. TurkStat (2010). Population by literacy and education level. http://www.turkstat. gov.tr/VeriBilgi.do?tb_id=39&ust_id=11 Retrieved on 13 December 2010 TurkStat (2011). Labour force status of “15–24 age group” by years and sex. http://www.turkstat.gov.tr/VeriBilgi.do?tb_id=25&ust_id=8 Retrieved on 29 March 2011 Tuksal, Hidayet (2009). Interview with author, 26 September 2009. Wadud, Amina (1999). Qur'an and woman: Rereading the sacred text from a woman's perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

319

Wadud, Amina (2006). Inside the gender jihad: Women's reform in Islam. Oxford: Oneworld Publications. Weibel, Nadine B. (2000). Par-delà le voile: Femmes d'Islam en Europe. Bruxelles: Editions Complexe. White, Jenny B. (1991). Women and work in Istanbul: Linking the urban poor to the world market. Middle East Report, 173, 18–22. White, Jenny B. (1994). Money makes us relatives: Women's labor in urban Turkey. Austin: University of Texas Press. White, Jenny B. (2003). Islamist mobilization in Turkey: A study in vernacular politics. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Wolf, Diane L. (Ed.). (1996). Feminist dilemmas in fieldwork. Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press. Zengin, Berna (2008). Pious Science: The Gülen Community and the Making of a Conservative Modernity in Turkey. Ph.D diss., University of California Santa Cruz, Santa Cruz.

Dr. Brigitte Jelen received her BA degree in Social Sciences at the University of Notre-Dame Namur in Belmont, CA, and her Ph.D. in Modern European History at the University of California Irvine. Her thesis entitled Immigrant In/Visibility: Portuguese and North Africans in Post-Colonial France discusses the political, religious, cultural and urban visibility of immigrants in France from a historical perspective. She has also worked on the questions of religion and secularism in the European context, and the debates on the visibility of hijabi women in European public spaces. In the past three years since her move to Istanbul, her research interests have broadened to include studies of contemporary Turkish society, and in particular of the new Islamic bourgeoisie. Her more recent work focuses on elite Islamic women in Turkey. She is also working on women theologians and women in religious institutions, and has written an article on “Women in the Diyanet” (2010 in press). Her teaching and research interests include Urban Sociology, Sociology of Religion and Culture, Contemporary European History, Women Studies and Cultural Studies.