As a university professor in Abu Dhabi, I was not required to wear a headscarf, but about ninety percent of my students wore traditional black headscarves and cloaks, called sheylas and abayas. At first, I felt intimidated by their clothes, worrying they signaled inapproachability or unfriendliness toward someone like me, an American. Yet, over the course of a year, I came to understand the many varied reasons behind their dress, and admired the pride and satisfaction they took from their clothes. 
I watched local women walk with pride down the university corridors, their abayas trailing behind them like the train of a gown. I listened to my students tell me how important their abayas and sheylas were to their sense of self-worth; they told me that wearing it made them feel closer to God. In a country with an eighty percent foreign population, local women donned their traditional dress to stand out as natives. Through those clothes, they were able to demonstrate their pride in the UAE and their resistance to losing their traditional culture. An Iraqi teacher once told me that wearing the abaya and sheyla made a woman feel like she was a danah, a precious pearl kept in a velvet case, shielded from harm, innocent and pure. I began to envy the way their clothes gave them inner strength and pride, and often worried my own outfits did the opposite. After all, I’ve never felt any kind of pride in my blue jeans and T-shirts; I’ve never felt patriotic in a short skirt or low cut top. I had no idea that everyday clothes could make someone feel protected, loyal, and proud of their religion. I was happy my students had a way to display all of this every time they got dressed.  
To answer to the question if American military women should wear the headscarf while serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, and other countries in the Gulf, my reply is: why not? With so many other perceived barriers between America and the Middle East, why not take a step toward commonality? Why not offer a gesture of understanding? 
When an Arab woman sees an American military officer in a headscarf, she will understand that this woman does not regularly cover her hair; an Arab woman will recognize that these troops are not Muslims. An Iraqi or Afghani woman will know that all the good things they’ve associated with covering their bodies and hair will not translate to most American soldiers. But the gesture would mean something; it would be appreciated. 
As a professor, I was already seen as a compassionate educator, someone who volunteered to spend my time among these women. In that sense, I didn’t need to wear a headscarf in order to bridge any rift between our intentions. But a woman in the army, wearing an army uniform, might signal another kind of prejudice and stereotype about the American military in that region. Donning the headscarf is a good way to combat that stereotype. 
One of the most important things I realized while teaching in Abu Dhabi was that Arab and western women are far more alike than our dress implies. We all want love, happiness and reliable relationships; we seek deep friendships. We want to protect our families, thrive in peace. A woman in a headscarf is not someone to be wary of; covering one’s hair is not a signal of displeasure with Americans or those who wear western clothes. I never got the impression from any of my students that covering one’s hair and body demonstrated submission to men. In fact, by the end of a year teaching in Abu Dhabi, I came to understand their dress as a simple fact of their lives—just as wearing blue jeans and leaving my hair uncovered was a part of mine. 
A woman in a headscarf is proud of her religion and where she comes from. All the women in her family wear one. All the women in her village wear one. Wouldn’t you do the same if you had been born in Afghanistan or Iraq, in the UAE or Saudi Arabia? And wouldn’t you wear one if it demonstrated that you were arriving in peace and that you believed the East and West could take steps toward mending those cultural rifts? 




Jillian Schedneck taught Literature and Creative Writing at the American  University in Dubai for the 2007-2008 academic year. In 2006 she was a professor at Abu Dhabi University. Jillian holds a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from West Virginia University. She is currently working on a travel memoir about her experiences in the United Arab Emirates titled Abu Dhabi Days, Dubai Nights. Her creative work has been published in literary journals such as The Common Review, Brevity, and Fourth River, and anthologized in Milspeak: Warriors, Veterans, Family and Friends Writing the Military Experience (Press 53/Jul 09).
http://dubainights.wordpress.com/shapeimage_2_link_0