From Hell to Hull: Images and Voices of Women of the Iraqi Diaspora in the United Kingdom
In this article I examine how immigrant Iraqi women navigate British society in Kingston upon Hull and the implications for both the host society and migrants. I investigate the formation of the diasporic community to measure the impact of this cultural resettlement and the redefining of social values. Besides being subjected to constraints based on their ethnic origins as Middle Easterners, the women also faced discrimination because of their mode of dress. Therefore, they mobilised other intersecting aspects of their identities to manipulate ethnic classification in the hope of distancing themselves from others using the strategy of othering to attain acknowledgement from British society. The questions are: what part of their traditions are they still holding on to, and what have they changed to adapt to their new ‘homes’? Do they consider Britain as their permanent home? And what are their strategies of othering? By examining a small slice of the Iraqi community in Hull, I attempt to conceptualise the identities of these women in terms of their relationships and the reality of their presence in Hull.
Introduction
Despite being a port city, Hull’s geographical location, which was described by Geoffrey Chaucer as ‘the end of the world’,[1] made it seem far away from the major parts of the UK, and hence turned it into an isolated place. This caricature of the city and the resulting deterioration of the city’s economic outlook has caused a majority of low-income residents to perceive immigrants, travellers, and asylum seekers as a burden. It is common to hear people in Hull describing newly arrived immigrants as ‘stealing our jobs, our houses, our women, [and even] our grades’.[2]
This aggressive attitude towards immigrants in Hull caused a reduction of interaction between the indigenous inhabitants and migrants to the city. According to a 2005 report by Gary Craig on the ethnic minorities in the city, ‘foreigners’ or ‘outsiders’
were widely perceived as both symptoms and cause of current malaise [ ... ] industrial decline and social change have led to many people feeling a sense of loss[ ... ] disadvantaged and emotionally damaged residents feel inclined, sometimes compelled, to project their feeling of shame, envy, and disgust-often aggressively, sometimes violently-onto immigrant and minority ethnic group.[3]
The experiences of Iraqis are no exception to those of the community of diverse immigrants in the city of Hull. And although the size of the Iraqi community in Hull is too small to be noticed, Iraqis have nevertheless been migrating to Britain since the start of World War II; this trickle of migrants running away from political unrest have found sanctuary in Britain. The first group of Iraqis came to Britain in the late 1940s and 1950s, as political refugees escaping monarchist policies of the political parties. This group was comprised of radical intellectuals and liberals who were fed up with such restrictions and chose to be exiled in Britain. After the overthrow of the monarchy in 1958, many supporters of the monarchy including top army officials, civil servants, diplomats, wealthy merchants,and landowners also fled to Britain, fearing the threat of political reprisals, and also economic and social exclusion. In the 1960s, in the words of HumayunAnsari ‘a distinct Iraqi presence took shape in Britain,’[4] a product of restrictive political measures by the Iraqi authorities. The 1970s and 1980s saw a period of intensification of political reprisals taking shape, and ethnocentrism took centre stage. Saddam Hussein’s Arabocentric policies saw the rise of ethnic identity repression; during the Iraq–Iran war, many Kurdish and Shia people were stripped of citizenship. The former were persecuted for being non-Arab culturally and having dreams of creating a state of their own and the latter, although predominately Arab, were ostracised and seen as a fifth column for being sympathetic to the newly installed Shia theocracy in Iran. Thousands of people were exiled to Iran on suspicion of siding with the enemy; many of these exiled Iraqis were able to find their way to Europe and Britain as asylum seekers. Many of them were merchants whose assets were confiscated and professionals who lost their jobs as well as skilled, unskilled, and semi-skilled individuals.[5]
By the early 1990s, according to Madawi Al-Rasheed,
It was only in the Gulf War (January1991) that the Iraqi community in London became visible with the concentrated media coverage. So far, the community has not attracted sociological or anthropological research in spite of the fact that it is the second largest Arab community in Britain.[6]
Al-Rasheed believes that the number of Iraqis in Britain then was not more than 70,000–80,000,half of whom resided in London.Al-Rasheed listed them as professors, engineers, and teachers, or journalists, artists, and business people. They were not your usual asylum seekers because they did not come specifically to Britain for that purpose.They entered Britain as visitors or students and eventually gained permanent residence as the general atmosphere of fear and persecution by the ruling Iraqi authorities escalated. Hence, the majority of Iraqis who came during the 1990s fall into the category of political refugees; most of them were Kurds, who were escaping from ethnic repression, while the non-Kurds and other minorities were escaping from the social and political restriction brought about by their vocal opposition to the regime.
The American and British invasion of Iraq in 2003 created another exodus of refugees, different from those of the 1990s. Unlike earlier refugees they were not from the political class but represented all sectors of society. Those who came to Britain after the 2003 war fled from Iraq because of the collapse of the state or the dismantling of the state by the coalition forces that invaded it. The invasion of Iraq led to the implosion of the state: the uneasy unityforced upon different sectarian and ethnic groups by Saddam’s ruthlessness fell apart. The increase in sectarianism, the influx of terrorists from parts of the Muslim world, the targeting of certain minorities, and the deteriorating security are all reasons cited as ‘push factors’ in leaving the country. The Iraqis in this last group, unlike their predecessors, did not have the luxury of choosing their place of settlement. They came under the aegis of the UN’s refugee settlement scheme; most did not choose Britain as their preferred destination, but a few did. This last group of Iraqis that came after 2003, and the first generation women in particular, are the focus of this study.
The demographic statistics of the Iraqi population in the city of Hull are unknown. Neither the refugee council nor Hull History Centre or any other official organisation had the slightest idea of their numbers. However, according to the last census in the UK in 2011, the whole population of the city was 256,406, divided into 50% males and 50% females. In examining the situation of the Iraqi women in Hull, I have come to realise that most of these women are confined to their Iraqi and/or Arab community via friends and family relations. Apart from those who are working, none of them seem to be exposed to the rest of British society. Although they all claim to be Iraqis, the women are neverthelessdivided by ethnicity, religious and sectarian beliefs, and regional origins, thus creating ever smaller groups. These schisms in the diaspora are fuelled by the streams of new arrivals with reports of atrocities committed by one group or the other. Social media also plays a major role in propagating divisions both in the country and to the diasporic communities scattered throughout the world. A sample of the Iraqi Christians in my study have tried to distance themselves from their fellow Iraqis: they have used Christian symbols like wearing the cross or adorning their homes with pictures of Christian saints to bring them close to their British hosts, and at the same time played the neutral role when it came to conflict between the tripartite protagonists in the Iraqi conflict, the Sunni, Shia, and Kurds. One refreshing thing about this study is the unifying image that they left imprinted in my mind; that is, despite all the divisions within their small community, they still saw themselves as Iraqis or Easterners who are different from Britons or Westerners.
The identity politics of Iraqi women in Hull do not stop at intangible aspects of their lives but extend to the tangible ones as well. Among those aspects, I have noticed that the wearing of headscarves is an important part of their identity and was also a point of contention amongst them. Those who wear them do so for various reasons. They wear them as a sign of old age, as a tradition, as a symbol of religiosity, while those who do not wear headscarves do so to fit in and not to call attention to themselves, thus avoiding awkward looks and resentment from the rest of society in Hull.
While the question of being an Iraqi or not is not something that Iraqis are often reminded of in their country of origin, Iraqis in Hull asserted that all of them have encountered someone from Hull who has asked them the same question, ‘Where are you originally from?’ One of the participants who was a qualified gynaecologist back in Iraq and now a retired resident of Hull complained:
Once I was standing by the lifts when this man came to me and asked: ‘Where are you originally from’? You know what the situation is like in our country, we do not even have a proper country to talk about. It is a failed state. [An Iraqi Christian in her late sixties]
For the participants the questions of origins conjured up a deep-seated fear of being attacked; as Iraq disintegrated into chaos, people’s personal identities could either save them or harm them. Therefore, participants became vigilant when asked these sorts of questions and did not like to answer them.
Another participant also reported being asked this question every time she visits her GP:
I cannot see the relevance of this question when I have been registered and have visited the health centre several times before. It always makes me feel uncomfortable. [A veiled Iraqi Muslim in her forties]
One of the participants, who is both Shiite and Kurd, told me that her son has always been harassed for belonging to two different backgrounds:
When we were in Syria, my son would always fight with his Syrian friends who never missed a chance to remind him of his difference. [A veiled Iraqi Muslim in her late forties]
When she and her children arrived in Hull, they were exposed to the same process of being asked about their country of origin until all of them became very reclusive individuals who communicated with others only when it was necessary:
Because every time I go outside, I face the same question, time and time again, I now prefer to stay at home for most of the time.
Going through such a transition created a sense of what Edward Said has described in his Reflections on Exile as ‘a discontinuous state of being,’[7] in which the exile feels like death but without death’s ultimate mercy; according to Said,the experience of exile has ‘torn millions of people from the nourishment of tradition, family, and geography’.[8]
Having suffered from this state of continuous displacement for a considerable time before arriving in Britain, most Iraqis have developed a sense of loss which can best be described as a state of limbo, brought on by an abnormal lifestyle characterised by living away from one’s homeland and inability to integrate in the host country.[9]This pressure from the host community has led some of the Iraqis to the extremes, the first group distanced themselves from the host community, while the other one distanced themselves from Iraqis themselves.Those who do not want to expose their Iraqi identity put emphasis on their religious identity, for example, highlighting their Christianity; for some, their ethnic background has become the main factor in identifying themselves. For others, keeping their traditions and highlighting their Iraqi identity andtheir Muslim background has become a tool for resisting the assimilation process; many fear the Westernisation of their children, and are anxious that their offspring will lose their identity asboth Iraqis and Muslims, thus losing their ties with their homeland.
Most of the Christian women I encountered in the city have created a network that is exclusive to them. On one hand, they do not mind if they are mistaken for other nationalities, e.g. Maltese or Cypriot, but on the other hand, they feel quite offended when they are misidentified as Muslims. One participant expressed her discomfort when asked what her country of origin was; according to her, she took deliberate steps to cut herself from all Iraqi women who wear headscarves in order not to be mistaken for a Muslim:
It is really difficult to fit in this society, and the last thing you want is to be lumped together with Muslims who are wearing headscarf. [An Iraqi Christian in her late sixties]
Surprisingly though, the same Christian participant showed her disappointment with British culture; she believes that ‘unlike us [Iraqis] they don’t cherish family relations. They can marry and divorce for the silliest reasons.’
The other group of Iraqi women that I met through this study used different strategies when dealing with British society. When I met them in their mosque[10] they were more communal and accommodating than the first group of Iraqis. Surprisingly, they seemed more relaxed and less anxious about sharing their innermost thoughts. All of the women I met in this group belonged to the Shia sect of Islam;[11] they described themselves as practising Muslims, and were wearing headscarves and flowing garments as part of the Islamic dress code.
These women came from the southern provinces of Basrawhich was the operational sector for the British military during the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Because their husbands worked in collaboration with the British forces during that period, they were resettled in the UK after the British withdrew from Iraq. Unlike the other groups that used various ways to assimilate into the host society through moderate changes in dress code or complete makeovers,this group of women were quite resistant to change, in fact they did exactly the opposite. All of the women were adamant about wearing their headscarves, and felt strongly about keeping their traditions. A young woman told me:
I’m very strict with my children and always try to keep our religious obligationand tradition alive in the family. [A veiled Iraqi Muslim in her late twenties.]
She felt that as long as she was committed to her religious beliefs, she was on the right path: ‘We are different from them.’ She told me that when her children wanted to go out trick-or-treating during Halloween with other children, she stopped them from imitating ‘them’ because these forms of celebrations are neither Iraqi nor Islamic traditions. As a result, she always brings her children to the prayer place, so they can learn the right principles of religion and thus preserve their identity as Iraqis and Muslims.
Another woman told me that she was incensedwhen her little son told her he wanted his ears pierced:
When my son wanted to imitate his ‘Western’ friends in school and wear small earrings in one of his ears, I immediately rejected the idea and started bringing him with me to the mosque, so that he learns the good habit and keeps his identity as a Muslim boy. [A veiled Iraqi Muslim in her early thirties.]
With such division in views, reports of discrimination and harassment won’t be a surprise.Despite the fact that not all Iraqi women immigrants in Hull are Muslims, they reported incidents of harassment based on religious belief and physical appearance, and at times their inability to speak the language was used against them. The majority of the harassment was directed at Muslim women whose physical appearance (i.e. wearing a headscarf) made them a visible target.
The women reported discrimination in different settingssuch as job interviews, on the street, or during health visits to the doctors.For example, one Iraqi woman in her mid-twenties and who is also veiled told me that when she was hired as a seamstress, she was always shunned and excluded by the rest of her workmates. She reported the matter to her boss, who then spoke to her co-workers and as a result, they started opening up to her:
They used to talk to me briefly, deliberately exclude me in their conversations, although I’m a very hardworking individual and the company profited from my quick production of garments. When the boss told me they [the team] have changed only after she had talked to them, I quit. [A veiled Iraqi Muslim in her late twenties.]