I have my own version of the Bechdel test that measures the representation of Muslim women in film.
First, I look to see which Orientalist ideas are visible in the plot summary. Is the father an aggressive authoritarian? Is the mother a passive, oppressed wife? Does the daughter hate her culture and love a white boy from school? And at the top of my list, I ask: Is the character played by a non-Muslim actor that drapes a loosely tied scarf over her head with her bangs hanging out from the front and ponytail hanging out the back? If all the answers to these questions are yes, I boycott.
Two films premiering at TIFF this year stick out in particular for failing to pass my personal Muslim Bechdel test: Hala, a story about an, “American Muslim teenager balancing her relationship with her protective Pakistani immigrant parents and her own independent desires.” And Sweetness In The Belly, a film causing controversy recently for the casting of Dakota Fanning as a British orphan turned Ethiopian-Muslim Refugee.
As a Muslim actor who wears the hijab, and has had my own personal struggles in the industry, I am incredibly frustrated by these two TIFF selections.
It is not that these films lack accuracy but rather, they cultivate two of the biggest problems regarding the representation of Muslims in the media: content and casting.
The content of these films are regurgitated ideas of Orientalism that are centuries old. In fine art paintings, Muslim men were depicted as bloodthirsty, ruthless warmongers, and today, in films and TV shows, Muslim men are depicted as angry fathers, over-protective brothers, and savage terrorists.
Muslim women in fine art paintings were concubines, hidden away yet unveiled and stripped naked through the view of a peep hole. Today, in films and TV shows, we see a new manifestation of the same old unveiling with young Muslim female characters who just want to remove the hijab that was forced upon them so that they can participate in secular society.
The reality is that Muslim women do participate in secular society while still proudly maintaining their Muslim identity.
In America, we see two Muslim congresswomen, and one that wears the hijab, Ilhan Omar. Just recently, Halima Aden, a hijabi model won “Breakthrough Model of the Year,” at the Fashion Media Awards. She has been featured in Glamour, Vogue, and even Sports Illustrated.
In Canada we have Ginella Massa, Canada’s first hijab-wearing television news anchor along with plenty of other hijab wearing journalists. If life imitates art, if non-fiction informs fiction, where are the stories of the Muslim women in civic society, politics, journalism, sports, art, fashion and so on?
I have had an agent for an entire year, and I have only been asked to one TV series audition –where I read for the role of a Saudi princess with an Arab accent.
I have yet to be brought in to read for a role of an anchorwoman, a cop, a lawyer, a teacher, a secretary, an athlete, someone’s quirky best friend, or someone’s nerdy little sister.
In acting classes, I have been asked multiple times to take off my hijab. More recently, I was told by an acting instructor that my black hijab in my headshot reminded him of the ISIS flag.
So when another festivals year arrives, and I see yet another film about an angst-y Muslim teen hating her religion or non-Muslim taking a role away from a Muslim actor, I feel defeated.
Nawal Salim is an actor, filmmaker, and community organizer. She just completed her Masters of Fine Arts thesis on Muslim women in the film industry.
@nowtoronto
.
