“Were you treated differently because you wore the hijab?”: Everyday Islamophobia,racialization and young Turks in Britain

Abstract

Numerous studies suggest that British society is becoming more Islamophobic, and Muslims, especially youth, in Britain have been its victims. But while there is growing evidence of how they have been targets of explicit and severe instances of Islamophobia, less attention has been focused on how they are also targets of its subtle and implicit forms. The purpose of this paper is to examine how Islamophobia manifests in everyday interactions and how Muslims are racialized from the perspective of one of its supposed victims that has been so far under-researched, i.e., young Turks in Britain. The young Turks’ accounts about themselves and their immediate circle of relatives revealed that Turks in the UK experience Islamophobia, but that it is often enacted during mundane interactions without ever becoming explicit. Visible Turkish-Muslim women, however, are the target of everyday Islamophobia far more than Turkish men and secular women, both of whom do not display any religious signifiers in public places. They face Islamophobia at the intersection of gender and religion. Many Turkish women are racialized through the hijab which is interpreted and described in ways that draw upon a set of symbolic meanings and associations. In addition, contrary to what has been discussed about the Islamophobic experiences of Muslim women in previously conducted studies, the evidence of this research shows that Islamophobia appeared to visible Turkish women more frequently in a more mundane, subtle way.

Introduction

Islamophobia scholars, policymakers, and public and private sector stakeholders alike continue to draw attention to the increased hostility, hate crimes, discrimination, and scrutiny that British Muslims, especially youth, are experiencing in society. The denigrating images of Muslims emerge not just in the policies of the War on Terror and securitization of Muslims in the West but have become part of everyday discourse and popular culture (Opratko, 2017). In such a way that media-politician relations have created an environment in which racism against Muslims has been perpetuated, and they have been racialized through the inscriptions of culturally, religiously, and ethnically constructed “Otherness.” (e.g. APPGBM, 2018; Modood, 2005; Runnymede Trust, 2017). Accordingly, many studies suggest that British society is becoming more Islamophobic, and Muslims, especially youth, in Britain have been its targets.

However, while the literature on Islamophobia has focused enough on its overt forms of manifestation in the lives of Muslims (e.g. Kunst et al., 2011; Perry, 2014; Zempi and Chakraborti, 2015), there is little research examining its subtle forms and how Muslims are racialized. Considering the subtle nature of everyday Islamophobia, these gaps are not surprising and are in fact understandable but not justified if we are to develop an understanding of the manifestation of Islamophobia in everyday interactions of Muslims and their racialization process. In this paper, I explore these from the perspective of one of its supposed victims that has been so far under-researched, i.e., young Turks in Britain.

When looking at the literature on the Turkish community in Britain, it shows that some young Turkish people experienced discrimination, harassment, and marginalization in the labor market, in the workplace, at school, and in other parts of British society (Enneli et al., 2005; Simsek, 2012; Tanyas, 2016). However, this literature has neglected the Islamophobia experiences and perceptions of young Turks. To date, there has been no specific study that examines Islamophobia among not only young Turks but also in any Turkish community or in general in the UK. However, several studies are focusing on Islamophobia among Turkish communities in other European countries which suggest that the Turks have been targeted by Islamophobia (e.g. Bayraklı and Hafez, 2017; Hopkins, 2008; Kunst et al., 2013). These studies also signify that for young Turkish people in Britain, negotiating their self-identity has been happening at the same time as having an ascribed Muslim identity which includes various negative stereotypical imagines and ascriptions originating in social and cultural processes (Blum, 2004) and is constructed as an essentializing form of “Othering” by dominant outsiders (Modood, 2017). Thus, with this article, I make contributions to the literature on Muslim studies in Britain in general and Turkish studies in particular by exploring how Islamophobia manifests in everyday interactions of young Turks and how they are racialized.

In order to better understand Islamophobia experiences and perceptions of young Turks in Britain and contribute to the literature on its subtle forms and the racialization process of British Muslims, I approach Islamophobia at a daily level. This analysis is grounded on an understanding of Islamophobia which is based, not only on readily apparent, observable, and easily documented racialized practices but also on subtle and implicit forms of racism that transpire in everyday interactions. Therefore, I pay regard to the view on everyday racism that racism as an expression of power relations is reproduced and reinforced through daily discourse and practices that often manifest in interactions without it being overt (Essed, 1991).

Theorising Islamophobia: A form of everyday racism

Scholars increasingly highlight “a new age of racisms” which is continually evolving to new circumstances, and which has become more subtle and uncertain (e.g. Essed, 1991; Bonilla-Silva, 2018). Essed (1991) argues that although there is a common view that racism is no longer a significant matter in North America and Europe, it has merely taken on a new, everyday form of racism that often expresses itself in mundane interactions without ever seeming blatant. Hence, she states that ‘everyday racism has been defined as a process in which socialized racist notions are integrated into everyday practices and thereby actualize and reinforce underlying “racial” and ethnic relations. Furthermore, racist practices in themselves become familiar, repetitive, and part of the “normal” routine in everyday life’ (Essed, 1991: 145).

The story of Rosa N. in Essed’s discussion of everyday racism clearly represents how everyday racism functions:

Rosa N. has never been physically molested, her life has not been threatened. She hardly has to deal with blatant “bigots.” She has not been fired. She has been called a Black “whore” only once. She is gifted, she has a job, and she is pursuing a promising career. She is a “successful Black.” So, one might ask: What is the problem? The problem is exactly that which is at the heart of everyday racism: the invisibility of oppression and the imperceptibility of Rosa N.‘s extraordinary perseverance, despite multiple forms of oppression. Rejection, exclusion, problematization, underestimation, and other inequities and impediments are regularly infused into “normal” life, so that they appear unquestionable. This is a story of oppression in the fabric of everyday life. Some of her experiences are obvious indications of racism. Many others are concealed and subtle. (Essed, 1991: 146)

The concept of “everyday racism” is, thereby, more related to hidden and subtle practices than overt incidents (Essed, 1991). Swim et al. (1998: 43), similarly, conducted daily diary research that examined African American women and men’s experiences of racism. The results of the research show that they experienced three types of behaviours: ‘(1) being stared at, glared at, or watched (such as while shopping in stores); (2) verbal expressions of prejudice (such as racial slurs, insensitive comments, and stereotyping); and (3) bad service.’

One of the unique manifestations of everyday racism is “racial microaggressions” coined by Sue et al. (2007) to delineate everyday incidents. Racial microaggressions as a form of everyday racism are brief, everyday exchanges that carry out denigrating messages to members of a racialized group in the forms of subtle snubs or dismissive looks, gestures, and tones (Sue et al., 2007; Sue, 2010). Name-calling, jokes, offensive remarks, and mistrust are some of these racist practices and are difficult to prove. This sort of racism is strongly influenced by stereotypes which are described as ‘the traits that come to mind quickly when we think about the groups’ (Stangor, 2016: 2). These stereotypes include not just false or misleading generalizations about a group but widely-shared and commonly recognized images of a socially salient group (Blum, 2004). Although everyday racism may appear quite innocuous, unremarkable, or be depicted as “small slights,” research shows that these microaggressions have made an impact on the psychological well-being and living conditions of targeted groups by creating inequalities in their education, employment, and healthcare opportunities (Sue, 2010).

The literature shows that various marginalized groups become targets of everyday racism. For example, research on Black Americans (Essed, 1991; Swim et al., 1998; Sue et al., 2009; Yosso et al., 2009), LGBT people (Nadal et al., 2010a), and people with disabilities (Keller and Galgay, 2010). Nevertheless, despite a large amount of literature on the overt forms of Islamophobia (e.g. APPGBM, 2018; Kunst et al., 2011; Perry, 2014; Selod, 2018; Tyrer and Ahmad, 2006; Zempi and Chakraborti, 2015), few researchers have examined its subtle forms, albeit with the exception of a few notable examples in recent years. I will now explain these briefly.

Moosavi (2015) examines how Islamophobia manifests in the lives of Muslim converts in Britain. He argues that Islamophobia only rarely manifests in the forms of violent attacks or transparent animosity. Rather, it materializes more frequently at a more mundane and discrete level. He called this form of manifestation a subtle Islamophobia in which Muslims experience latent hostility and discrimination in their everyday lives without it being obvious. Moosavi points out that Islamophobia is based on a racialization process in which Muslims are marked out as the “Other,” even if converts were once members of the dominant White group. He thus emphasizes subtle Islamophobia that impacts the daily lives of Muslims more than the infrequent instances of physical violence or petty verbal abuse.

Nadal et al. (2010a) proposed a theoretical taxonomy to identify the ways how religious groups experience microaggressions. Their taxonomy constitutes six major categories of microaggressions that are based mainly on religion and are likely independent of ethnicity, race, or other variables. They categorized these six types of microaggressions as follows: 1) endorsing religious stereotypes; 2) exoticization; 3) the pathology of different religious groups; 4) the assumption of one’s own religious identity as the norm; 5) the assumption of religious homogeneity; and 6) denial of religious prejudice (Nadal et al., 2010b: 297). Their focus was that of identifying how various religious groups may experience microaggressions in everyday interactions and the messages that are sent to them.

In 2012, Nadal, Griffin, and colleagues empirically evaluated this taxonomy among Muslim Americans. While the findings of their research supported the first four themes of the taxonomy proposed by Nadal et al., 2010a, along with two new themes, the last two themes from the original theoretical taxonomy (the assumption of religious homogeneity and denial of religious prejudice) were not included. Nadal et al. mention two possibilities for this outcome. First, examples of how one’s religion is viewed as the norm are often normalized part of American culture that it simply becomes difficult to identify. Second, perhaps because denial of religious prejudice is a microaggression that usually requires individuals to have difficult religious conversations with others, Muslim Americans avoid engaging in such conversations and thus did not experience such microaggressions. Their analysis of the transcriptions also emerged two new themes, unlike the taxonomy in 2010 which are pervasive in the lives of Muslim Americans: 1) Islamophobic or mocking language; and 2) alien in own land. The former is a type of microaggression that involves instances where people make fun of the religion, use offensive language, and annoy the people who subscribe to it. The latter makes individuals feel as if they do not belong in the US even though they were born in the US or consider the US to be their home (Nadal et al., 2012: 22–29).

Bagheri’s study (Bagheri’s, 2018) on Muslims’ experiences of Islamophobia in Scotland suggests that some of his respondents drew upon their childhood experiences and their general knowledge of Islamophobia to identify it as a “continuum” that manifests in everyday interactions. It is argued that Islamophobia is not as overt and visible as it was in the past. His study furthermore reveals that, while younger Muslims experienced Islamophobia in more verbal and explicit ways, when they became adults and started interacting with adults from majority groups, their experiences turned into more subtle forms of Islamophobia, including different “looks” or “stares” which they encountered in day-to-day interactions. Bagheri further argues that this implicit Islamophobia is influenced primarily by media and international events which speak about Muslims.

The subtle and inconspicuous forms of Islamophobia have also been explored among some British Muslim students. Chaudry (2021) focused on the Islamophobia which was perpetrated within university environments. The study’s findings show that they often experienced microaggressions that were tied to their appearances. Chaudry discussed these findings in terms of the types of racial microaggression developed by Sue et al. (2007) — e.g. microinsults (subtler behaviours and communications), microassaults (purposeful discriminatory behaviours), and microinvalidations (the negation and nullification of the lived experiences of an individual). Two of these racial microaggressions, however, were evidenced in his study: microinsult (unconscious) and microassault (conscious). In the former form, by maintaining excessive distance from Muslims in the school environment and by excessively staring at Islamic dress, perpetrators unconsciously insulted Muslim students. Sue (2010: 9) asserts that these nonverbal interactions ‘communicate rudeness, insensitivity, slights, and insults….’ In the latter form, they experienced racial jokes which were intentionally and publicly performed. Yosso et al. (2009: 669) argue that, even if White students realize that ‘they would hurt someone with their attempt at comedy, the act of telling a joke is intentional. Some may laugh because they too hold stereotypical, racist beliefs.’ In that sense, they unconsciously hold the racist ideologies but code them as humor.

If racist practices manifest in a subtle form, though, how can one be sure that racism is at work? One of the arguments for this issue was developed by Essed (1991), who argues that experiencing racism over time generates an understanding of what attitudes and behaviours are normal or abnormal in given situations. This experience also provides an awareness of the nature of racism. For this reason, she highlights that Black people have become skilled at identifying racism. Moosavi (2015) also applies this to Muslim converts in Britain by borrowing the term “double consciousness” from W. E. B. Du Bois (1969). According to Moosavi, because they had previously lived their daily lives as non-Muslims, they are well placed to detect Islamophobia. Because the converts became members of a minority Muslim group, they can perceive themselves through the eyes of the majority group and, therefore, easily recognize the negative attitudes and behaviours that are reflected in them. Moosavi (2015), thereby, points out that these converts were able to identify and comprehend instances of Islamophobia because they were able to use their intuition and insight rather than empty sentiments. If one considers the significance of double consciousness in the context of invisible British Muslims, especially second generations, being integrated into British society successfully, they might be able to utilize their intuition and insight in order to discern racist and discriminatory attitudes and behaviors targeting them or the group(s) that they are affiliated with. Insomuch as the second generations grew up in two cultures, this may have provided them with opportunities to be able to see themselves and their groups through other eyes.

While everyday Islamophobia is an important concept to talk about discrimination Muslims encounter in mundane interactions, we need to dwell on the term racialization, which is increasingly employed by race scholars to understand how Muslims experience Islamophobia (e.g. Rana, 2011; Meer, 2013; Garner and Selod, 2015).

Islamophobia as the racialization of Muslims

Although there has been a growing interest in Islamophobia since 9/11, much of the literature neglects the racialization process of Muslims in everyday encounters, focusing on arguments relating to policies, mass media, films, publications, etc. Garner and Selod (2015: 14) note a few functions of racialization as follows: ‘It draws a line around all the members of the group; instigates “groupness,” and ascribes characteristics, sometimes because of work, sometimes because of ideas of where the group comes from, what it believes in, or how it organizes itself socially and culturally.’ The literature shows that racialized tendencies and dynamics were employed by majority groups of Europe and America at different times. Putatively, White groups, such as the Irish in the mid-19^th century (Garner, 2006; Ignatiev, 1995), Jews in the US in the 20^th century (Brodkin, 1998), and East European migrants in Britain (Fox, 2013) can all be said to have been racialized. Garner and Selod (2015: 14), therefore, point out that Muslim groups can also be racialized. ‘This is not due to them all looking vaguely the same but is because of the unity of the “gaze” itself.’

Today, a considerable number of scholars have come to deem the hatred being perpetrated against Muslims as a kind of cultural racism (e.g. Grosfoguel and Mielants, 2006;Modood, 1997; Runnymede Trust, 2017). It is based not only on the racialization of modern biological entities, but also on the inscriptions of culturally, religiously and ethnically constructed “Otherness.“. Modood (2020) views Islamophobia as a form of cultural racism which also emphasizes physical appearance and ancestral origin. In this respect, it differs from biological racism, which is understood as antipathy, exclusion, and unequal treatment on the basis of human biological or physical differences attributed to skin color. Cultural racism ignores the differences/internal diversity in culture and cultural practices among Muslim groups and is far from capturing the different interpretations and ways of life among Muslim groups (Meer and Modood, 2010). To racially group all Muslims as a single cultural race or as an ethno-religious entity is to gather most internal cultural differentiations together in that targeted group. For example, non-religious or even non-Muslim Turks who do not show any visible biological, religious, or cultural markers may still be racialized by the host community because of their ancestry, nationality, or name. This means that Muslims, or those who are categorized as Muslims, ‘are identified racially and not simply in terms of religious beliefs or behaviour’ (Modood, 2020: 39).

Islamophobia is, therefore, a specific form of racism that socially categorizes people by dividing and ranking them using embodied properties in order to exclude, subordinate, and exploit them (Banton, 1983). It amalgamates all Muslims into one group, as well as those who are simply perceived as being Muslim. Racialization is a concept that describes this process and thus helps capture and understand how Muslims experience Islamophobia. Omi and Winant (2014:111) defined the term racialization as “the extension of racial meaning to a previously racially unclassified relationship, social practice, or group.” Racialization is not limited to phenotypical or biological traits; rather, racialized cultural characteristics can also be used as a basis of differentiation (Fox et al., 2012; Modood, 2005). Culture in this respect is as effective as skin color in racializing discourses. It is assumed that the cultural attributes of Muslims, which are usually tied to their religious appearance, practices, names, and ethno-racial appearance, are fixed and immutable (Meer and Noorani, 2008). This racialized understanding can be attached to a body or a culture, or both at the same time. People read the notion of Muslimness onto individuals (physical bodies) by the process of attributing to them an ensemble of symbolic meanings and associations (Garner and Selod, 2015). In other words, the religious and cultural traits of Muslims — some of which are visible (clothing, religious practices, etc.) and some of which are not (accent, Muslim names, etc.) — have been interpreted as being a threat to national security; incompatible with Western liberal values, modern secular democracy and freedom of speech; incapable of being identified with a national identity; and so on (Garner and Selod, 2015; Selod, 2018; Zempi and Awan, 2017). Thus, racialization makes it easier for us to focus not on religious prejudice or hostility per se, but on individuals, groups, and minorities who are the sites of racial inscriptions (Meer, 2013). Using racialization as a core analytical concept allows us to understand the fact that Muslims, regardless of physical appearance, country of origin, and economic status, are homogenized and humiliated by Islamophobic discourse and practices in their everyday lives (Garner and Selod, 2015).

Muslims have been racialized in a variety of different ways. Evidence suggests that the process of racialization has gendered dimensions (Aziz, 2012; Perry, 2014; Selod, 2018; Tyrer and Ahmad, 2006; Zempi and Chakraborti, 2015). Some Muslim women who wear religious clothing like the hijab have been essentialized by means of their religious visibility in the public sphere (Allen, 2014). For some Muslim men and women, ethno-religious signifiers are not always visible; instead, their accent, language, or their Muslim name can provoke anti-Muslim encounters (Selod, 2018). Furthermore, some Muslim men and women have also experienced Islamophobia in multiple subjectivities they occupy, being simultaneously affected by their gender, their social and economic class, and their racial, ethnic, national, and religious identities (APPGBM, 2018; Perry, 2014; Zine, 2006).

Indeed, the hijab becomes an intersectional issue when veiled Muslim women face Islamophobia at the intersection of gender, color of skin, religion, ethnicity and other social divisions and become the centre of attention (Najib and Hopkins, 2020). Intersectionality, a sociological theory coined by American critical race scholar Kimberle Crenshaw (1989), seeks to supply an account of a whole person whose social identities combine to create distinctive experiences of discrimination. Crenshaw (1991: 1244) used the concept of intersectionality to describe and explain the various ways in which ‘race and gender interact to shape the multiple dimensions of Black women’s employment experiences.’

In the context of the present study, intersectionality can be seen as a connection of social identities such as gender, religion, race and ethnicity that converge to cause veiled Muslim women as ideal targets of Islamophobia (Domaas, 2021; Zempi, 2020). The garment is associated with the religion of Islam in nature. It is also clearly gender-specific, as only Muslim women (and not Muslim men and secular women) adopt the practice of wearing it (Chakraborti and Zempi, 2012). While they face some forms of discrimination in ways similar to Muslim men and secular women, the hijab causes subordination of Muslim women in ways overlooked by generic strategies against anti-Muslim (male) discrimination (Aziz, 2012). Specifically, the hijab marks a Muslim woman as an oppressed, anti-feminist, orient, exotic, extremist and terrorist (Colak et al., 2020; De Jong and Duyvendak, 2021; Perry, 2014; Selod, 2018; Zempi, 2020).

Now that I have laid the foundation for a literature review of how I approach an analysis of everyday racism. I use the concepts of everyday racism, racial microaggressions and racialization to recognize and analyze the systemic, everyday forms of racism encountered by young Turks in Britain. We need a carefully crafted methodology for exploring how Islamophobia is experienced and manifests in everyday interactions. The next section deals with methodological issues.

Methodology

This study draws on qualitative data collected through semi-structured interviews1 with 39 first and second-generation young Turkish people2 aged between 18 and 35 in London3 in 2019. My guiding principle during the fieldwork was to acquire maximum variation. I aimed to recruit individuals that were diverse enough to represent the variation known to exist in the Turkish community of London. To be more precise, Turks are not homogenous in terms of their social life and practices, their religious views, the level of their relationships with British society, etc. Thus, the way they experience Islamophobia, or have thoughts about it, may differ due to these differences. For this purpose, I contacted as many Turkish organizations and institutions as possible in order to find a vast array of informants possessing as many different traits or qualities as possible. Apart from those contacts, I recognized that there are also other young Turkish people who do not have any affiliation with those sorts of organizations and institutions but who still are part of the Turkish community in London. In order to reach these Turkish youth, I asked the respondents after each interview whether they knew anyone who met the desired criteria. With the assistance of some of these respondents, I visited various pubs, dance clubs, and sports centres to access the targeted Turkish youth.

Prior to conducting the interviews, I considered the fact that researching Islamophobia was a sensitive topic and thus would be upsetting for my respondents. Research is regarded as sensitive ‘if it requires disclosure of behaviours or attitudes which would normally be kept private and personal, which might result in offense or lead to social censure or disapproval, and/or which might cause the respondent discomfort to express [themselves]’ (Wellings et al., 2000: 256). In researching racialized people, it is thus crucial ‘to be more ethically responsible for their lives and well-being and see that we do not make them more vulnerable’ (Liamputtong, 2007: 32). Therefore, before initiating the interviews, I ensured that participants were aware that they could terminate the interview at any time and that they always would have the opportunity to ask questions, express their concerns openly, and not answer any question that they felt uncomfortable with. Moreover, I avoided making judgmental statements, gestures, and facial expressions during the interviews.

All interviews were recorded with the permission of the interviewees. To protect the identities of my respondents, I used pseudonyms and recorded my notes in an encrypted Word document on my computer immediately after the observations. To facilitate the coding of the transcripts, I used NVivo. I employed thematic analysis to identify and analyze patterns of meaning in the dataset (Braun and Clarke, 2006). Themes were generated through a data-driven inductive approach (Boyatzis, 1998; Thomas, 2006). The main purpose of the inductive approach is to allow research findings to arise directly from the themes arising from the data, not from a priori theoretical expectations or models (Thomas, 2006). I centred the participants as the only source of knowledge regarding their social reality, and maintained the interpretivist and subjectivist position consistently.

I began the process of inductive coding by reading the transcripts. Emerging themes were developed by reading the transcripts several times and considering the possible meanings that were inherent in the data and how these fitted with developing themes. In inductive coding, categories are usually created from actual phrases or meanings in specific text segments (Thomas, 2006). During the analysis, I developed specific themes by capturing core messages reported by respondents. An early example of this is what I labelled ‘everyday Islamophobia’. The use of the early themes, however, limited expanding the themes to reflect the participants’ views in a traditionally qualitative way (Creswell, 2012). To address this, once these early themes were applied to the text, various additional inductive themes were designated and used. The analysis involved a detailed exploration and understanding of selected themes and subthemes. The main categories for exploring Islamophobia in the context of the respondents were grouped in relation to their experiences with it. Having done this, I organized sub-themes in the context of racialization practices, including the racialization of the Turks, gendered racialization, and the hijab as an ensemble of symbolic meanings and associations.

I was an insider as well as a semi-outsider – not for all but just for some gatekeepers and participants – since my identity has many dimensions. On the one hand, I was an insider because, in general terms, I come from the same ethnic background, I speak Turkish, and am familiar with the relevant customs. On the other hand, in terms of religion, I am a Muslim and was thus an insider; in the context of non-Muslim gatekeepers and participants, though, I was an outsider. However, this part of my positionality did not prevent me from establishing a good rapport with my gatekeepers and respondents. Throughout the fieldwork, I presented a worldview that does not conflict with other religious preferences and showed empathy for my interviewees, particularly in relation to the religious oppression experienced by Muslim groups in London.

“No, where are you really from?”: Being questioned and treated as exotic, different, or unusual

Being subject to an excessive number of questions in one’s daily life is one of the themes which emerged from this empirical study. Considering the fact that there are substantially two kinds of directions or forces (i.e. from the “inside-out” and the “outside-in”) which cannot be treated as being discrete shows that, for young Turks, their ethnic and religious identities are partly constructed as an essentializing form of “Othering” by outsiders and their response to it. This construction from the outside occurred more in implicit forms through the use of Islamophobic language. Thus, the participants felt like they were being treated as if they were foreigners, different, or unusual.

“Where are you from?” is one of the basic questions that the participants were asked when they were identified as an “other.” Hakan, for instance, reported that, due to working as a taxi driver, some of his clients treated him negatively, supposing that he was a member of the South Asian Muslims, which constitute the largest Muslim population in the UK. He explained his experience as follows:

People confuse me with South Asians because I am a taxi driver who looks like them. They think that all taxi drivers are from South Asia. Some ask, “Are you Pakistani or Bangladeshi?” and they usually do it rudely. I mean 8 out of 10 are asking me directly where I am from. They are questioning you as if you made a mistake. It bothers me because it should not be that way. (Hakan)

Certain occupations in the UK are attributed to certain groups. The extensive presence of South Asian Muslim men in the service industry, such as taxi drivers, may cause drivers from other ethnic groups to share the same fate with them. Yet, being a taxi driver is not enough to be identified as a South Asian Muslim. Hakan here argues that appearing South Asian is the central marker for experiencing stereotypes. This might suggest that Muslims in the UK are often racialized in terms of some of the main characteristics of South Asian Muslims, such as physical appearance and cultural traits. The respondents reported feeling stress and discomfort and are weary of cases involving racist language.

According to Rumeysa, the question “Where are you from?” assumes that she is categorized as being different by the people asking it: ‘The thing is my name. In Britain, if I said I am British, people will ask me “No, where are you really from?”’ Even though she was born, raised, and lives in the UK, she is still treated as a foreigner. These sorts of questions send the message that she does not belong in Britain, thereby subtly communicating that there are certain criteria for being British (Nadal et al., 2012). As a result, she felt like an alien in her own land (Sue et al., 2007). When the answer did not simply contain the origin of her parents’ migration, the questioners revised the question until they received the information that they wanted to hear. For her, the question did not concern a geographical origin, so in her mind, she was not supposed to mention a country. Cassilde (2013: 116) notes that this question could be interpreted as the questioner’s showing interest in another culture rather than intending to exclude “the other.” Rumeysa, on the other hand, believes that this question generally does not aim to explore her own culture seeing as the questioners’ intention is consciously malevolent: ‘For me, it means that they want to categorize where I am from. Thus, I understand how they are stereotyping me.’ In judging her, she stated, the perpetrators sometimes explicitly or implicitly apply racist beliefs about the attributes of her ethnic and religious groups to her:

People project their own assumptions [on me]. On purpose, I try not to tell people that I am Turkish because, if I do, I may receive racist comments. Indeed, I have had people say “Oh! Are you okay with your Turkish identity?” “You are the first Turkish person I have made an acquaintance with,” etc. … There was a person that I had met and had felt quite safe with her. I did not believe that she was judgemental. And then she asked me “Where are you from?” And I was like “I am Turkish,” and then she said “Oh! Your parents are Muslim, so you grew up as a Muslim?” And then she asked me, “Are you a terrorist?” and I was like “What!?” If you say you are a Muslim or Turkish, they make assumptions like “You are a terrorist” or “You are an extremist.” (Rumeysa)

Being asked stereotypical questions that assume the young Turks’ ethnic origins and cultural differences are somehow unusual or curious may cause those targeted to feel reduced to their ethnic and cultural identities. Rumeysa did not want people to know her differentness as she knew that various stigmatized attributions were ascribed to that differentness (Goffman, 1963). The Islamophobic attributions fostered by the media and politicians label all people, including both those who express their commitment to Islamic identity and those who are members of an ethno-religious group but dissociate themselves from the religious background of the group, as terrorists. Rumeysa identified herself as being a non-Muslim but could not elude Islamophobic language due to her ethno-religious signifiers, viz. ethnicity and Muslim name.

Another mode of questioning the respondents experienced stemmed from the assumption that all Muslim people share the same cultural and religious practices or behaviours and thus are members of a completely homogeneous religious group. For example, Zeliha describes her experience in the following way: ‘Once I went to a pub and met someone there. Later on, he asked me “Why are you drinking?” and “Why are you not wearing a headscarf?” He was supposing that all Turks practice Islam.’ In this instance, being a Turk was considered as being equivalent to being Muslim. Thus, the following two assumptions were being made: (a) there is no flexibility in the practice of Islam, and (b) all Muslim/Turkish women cover their heads. Yaren also mentioned that she was questioned for not wearing a headscarf: ‘When I’ve told people at school that I am Muslim, they’ll be like “Ahh! Really? Why are you not wearing a hijab, then?” They think that, if you are Muslim, you must wear it.’ Such questions convey an implicit message that all Turks/Muslims must behave and practice in the same way, while also implying that they – especially those Muslim women who cover their heads – are exotic or abnormal in British society.

Some respondents reported that they are exposed to racist discourses over the current political situation in Turkey. This generally happens when people find out where the targets are originally from. Some respondents confessed feeling discomfort when people in the UK have associated their ethnic identity with the current governmental policies of Turkey:

…They start treating you as if you are the official representative of your country and start talking about the political developments transpiring in Turkey. They behave as if you are a supporter of the current Turkish government and question your country’s politics. They claim that the current government supports ISIS. Why are you are telling me this? That makes me feel like I am being accused and that bothers me. (Oguz)

This quote proposes that certain racist behaviours are not directly based on religious prejudices but may also be based on ethnic or political affiliations. This subtle form of racism tends to make victims feel uneasy and angry. Sometimes, however, this racist behaviour is performed in overt terms, just as Sabiha, a second-generation undergraduate student, narrated. She complained about people who criticized her due to her supporting the government in Turkey: ‘I was a member of AKP youth branches in London and had some brochures to hand out. One White British person approached me and asked me, “Are you an extremist?” “What?” I asked him. He told me that Erdogan is an extremist and that, if I am supporting him, then I am an extremist, too.’ Sabiha reported that she was racialized based on her political preferences and was overtly referred to as being religiously “extremist.” Transnational links and practices are not particular to first-generation people. Second-generation individuals like Sabiha may also want to establish connections with their country of origin via political membership (Dikici, 2021; Sunier and Landman, 2015). When some political border-crossing practices, such as the example in the quote above, become more salient in the public sphere, though, its members may be targeted by much more severe reactions by the dominant groups compared to that of other culturally transnational activities.

Intersectionality of Islamophobia and the veiled Turkish women

Some young Turkish women told me stories about what it was like being stopped and searched at airports. Tulay, for instance, shared the following: ‘I often go to Turkey. I am stopped and searched at airports more often than other people. My friends are not searched but I am. If you are not wearing the headscarf, then you are not seen as being a threat.’ In airports, the hijab is perceived as being a religious marker of racialized Muslim identity (Selod, 2018). The women who wear them are easily recognized as Muslims and are perceived as if they are serious threats to national security by airport surveillance teams. As Tulay notes, ‘They see women like me as potential terrorists. This annoys me.’ Tulay has concluded that she is stopped at airports because she wears the hijab. What resonated with Tulay was the different kinds of treatment she receives at airports compared to her friends who do not wear the hijab. The treatment she faced is tailored to her intersectional position such that there may be Turkish Muslim men and non-veiled Turkish women who do not experience discrimination at airports or at least do not experience it in the same manner (Aziz, 2012).

The behaviours that she experienced are examples of implicit Islamophobia because of its subtlety and discriminatory nature (Nadal, et al., 2012). Although the act of inspecting them multiple times at airports may sound like a routine situation that does not harm its targets, as expressed by Tulay, this discriminatory act causes the targets to feel distressed and frustrated (Blackwood et al., 2013). Tulay thus has tried to elude this discriminatory type of surveillance by avoiding certain airports. As she notes, ‘I try not to use Heathrow airport to fly due to [the fact that they conduct] extra security searches.’ By avoiding Heathrow, she attempts to minimize the potential for negative treatments by authorities at the airport and helps prevent her from feeling anxious.

Another challenge encountered at airports is that of being exposed to the gaze of other travellers while being stopped, searched, and questioned by airport authorities. Sabiha, for instance, articulated her Turkish friend’s experience at one British airport whilst returning to London from Paris:

I have a friend who wears a headscarf. We went to France with our other two friends. When we returned to London, one police officer stopped her at the airport and asked her where she was coming from, what she did in France, why she came back, etc. She felt uncomfortable because everyone was looking at her. She was born in London. They did not stop us [her companions] or ask these sorts of questions of us. We were four people, but she was the only one who was wearing a headscarf. (Sabiha)

With respect to the issue of what makes airport incidents problematic, it is worth pointing out that respondents refer to experiencing a sense of injustice that portray veiled Muslim women as the primary threat to British national security. Unlike men and secular women, they are caught at the intersection of discrimination against religion, women, and the racialized Muslim other.

Another incident that takes a place of importance in the daily lives of the veiled Turkish women is the hostile glare that they perceive from strangers in public places. They generally experience these stares in stores, on public transport, on the streets, and in public institutions. The implication is that these women are being “othered” or perceived as being suspicious or threatening. Hakan, for instance, told me that he witnessed many times how people on the street stared at his wife with hateful eyes. As he relates, ‘People stare at you weirdly when you are wearing the hijab. Sometimes, I can see the hatred in their eyes when we go out. But she never experienced any verbal attacks or anything extreme.’ Hakan was aware that the hostility against his wife was mainly hidden below the surface. Thus, he defined Islamophobia as something ‘you can feel but cannot prove.’ A similar point was made by Merve, who articulated her observation regarding how her mother’s hijab drew people’s attention in a discriminatory manner. She believed that, due to her mother wearing the hijab, ‘people look at her strangely. For example, when we go to the hospital to see a doctor, we realize that the staff members behave differently toward her. It is because of her hijab.’ It is worth noting here that what my participants narrated did not always relate to their own individual experiences. Nevertheless, some unordinary practices in their daily lives enabled the respondents to feel empathy with those targeted by Islamophobia. Rumeysa, for instance, realized that British people would behave differently toward her when she wore a hijab and went out:

The reaction is so different. The energy from people is very different. So, what I noticed is that White or normal people are a bit more reserved or withdrawn. But when I do not wear it, I notice that people are more open to greet me. … These clothes I am wearing right now let me pass when I am walking. Even on the train, people move more. But when I wear the hijab, they stare at me strangely. (Rumeysa)

This point was also featured by Tulay, who described outside of her “safe zone” as unsafe and was aware of a non-aggressive but still offensive type of racism.

I just feel it. People do not disrespect me saliently. Once I was driving and one of my Turkish friends was next to me. She does not normally wear a headscarf. So, you know, English people are very respectable in traffic, especially to women drivers. But when my friend drives, I have realized that they are much more respectable toward her [because she does not wear a headscarf]. They give way to her in traffic. They are very gentle with her. Once, though, she experienced what I experienced in traffic, too. There was a religious ceremony somewhere and thus she also was wearing a headscarf on that day. She was driving to the place [where the celebration was going to be held]. A few times, other drivers did not give way to her in traffic. She then said “that is very bizarre Tulay [pseudonym]. People usually give way to me. This has not happened to me before. I feel like people are doing this to me because I am wearing a headscarf.” (Tulay)

In Tulay’s telling, she felt they were easily recognized as Muslims based on their physical appearances. The headscarf as a religious signifier acquired a racial meaning and a connection of gender and the hijab caused them ideal targets of everyday Islamophobia (Domaas, 2021). They faced intersectional Islamophobia experienced only by veiled Muslim women.

Being treated unfairly in social institutions due to the hijab was another theme that was revealed from the data. Metin, for instance, narrated such an experience when he related his feelings regarding a time when he and his wife took their daughter to see a doctor at a hospital.

Metin: We took our daughter to a hospital recently. She had a fever. We waited for three hours in line and nobody took care of my daughter. I had to go in a few times to ask why my daughter had not been seen by a doctor yet, especially since her fever had not been brought down yet. They gave her apple juice and took her temperature. But I saw that they treated a few English patients who had come to the hospital after us. I felt that they were discriminating against us. I supposed that their kids might have needed to be treated urgently, but that was not the case. I told the staff again that we had been waiting for three hours, but nothing changed. Then, I told her [the nurse] that we would be leaving, and she said that that would be our responsibility [and not theirs] if we left. “Okay,” I said, and we left the hospital.

Interviewer: Why do you think they treated you differently?

Metin: They knew that we were different. My wife was there, and she was wearing the hijab. I mean, they did not do anything explicitly, but you could feel it.

As discussed by Schneider et al. (1997), the question “Were you left out because you are Black?” applies to the case of Turkish people. One could simply modify the question thus: “Were you treated differently because you wore the hijab?” Yet, this empirical research suggests that respondents had trouble labelling behaviours they experienced as racism. They were left alone with a strong sense of having been exposed to it. That is, even if they had difficulty attributing those incidents to racism, they were still affected negatively. Racism, therefore, is not merely a matter of explicit beliefs, attitudes, or behaviours. It can also take more implicit forms.

“… If you are wearing it, they assume that you have been married young…”: The hijab as an ensemble of symbolic meanings and associations

It is argued that the ways people are racialized are largely dependent on physical appearance. Perceived differences in appearance, such as skin color, hair texture, and nose shape are interpreted and narrated in ways that draw upon a set of symbolic meanings and associations (Omi and Winant, 2014). This research indicates that the hijab is also being essentialized in the same way that somatic traits are. It has become a symbol of perceived oppressive and subordinating cultural and religious practices (Afshar, 2008; Chakraborti and Zempi, 2012; Colak et al., 2020; De Jong and Duyvendak, 2021; Garner and Selod, 2015). Visible Muslim women trapped at the intersection of religion and gender are thus represented as uneducated, oppressed, mysterious, extremist, etc. Having said that, I would like to re-emphasize here that, as with other themes, the participants’ articulations on this theme were based mainly on their feelings or perceptions rather than experiences of direct racism.

One of the doubts amongst some Western feminists is the view that Muslim women wear the hijab with their own consent (Aziz, 2012). This is one of the reasons why they denounce the wearing of a headscarf seeing as they see it as a symbol of oppression or patriarchy (Modood, 2013). The hijab seemed to evoke the recognition that they were Muslim; it was this that then became the focus of stereotyping. Rumeysa explained how White British people in her workplace negatively portrayed Muslim women wearing the hijab. She was born in London and noted that she always tended to conceal her ethnic and religious identity from those who could potentially judge Muslims or Turks.

One of my colleagues whom I had been managing made many racist comments about Muslim women. She said “They are wearing the hijab and you cannot see their hair. Can you believe this? How can I work with you if I cannot see your hair?” … If you are wearing it, they assume that you have been married young, that you have been forced into marriage by your parents, that you are a terrorist, or that you are an extremist.… I feel like even I have been apprehensive to say directly that I am Turk to people because, the thing is, people are indirect. They always perpetrate microaggressions. (Rumeysa)

Rumeysa’s account shows that visible symbols associated with Islamic identity exposed Muslim women to various forms of microaggressions, including assumptions of ties with terrorism or extremism. She appears particularly conscious of the negative perception of her identity, and she struggles with whether to disclose it to avoid adverse reactions. Studies show that similar passing strategies were adopted by some young Turks in Belgium where they tried to avoid negative looks and being stigmatized by hiding their religious and ethnic background (e.g. Colak et al., 2020).

As aforementioned, Hakan had explained how his wife reacted to the hostile glares that she received from strangers while walking down the street. He recounted that most of those who stared at his wife with hateful eyes were White British women, which is contrary to the view that veiled Muslim women are predominantly targeted by male actors (Klaus and Kassel, 2005). He believed that the headscarf was not just something that they disliked; more importantly, it was read as a symbol of patriarchy. ‘They are questioning why Muslim women wear it. They smile at you, but you can understand their actual feelings. I mean, they think that those women only wear headscarf due to family pressure. They think that I force her to wear it. I think that is one of the main problems in this country.’ It could be said, then, that the aggravating gaze influences not only the victims but also those who witness the incident. Hakan thus noted that living in a society where there are such judgments against Muslim men is also difficult for him. One of the targets of this feminist claim is the oppressive husband (Afshar, 2008). The hijab is read unproblematically as an outward sign of oppression (Garner and Selod, 2015). The view that Muslim women who wear the hijab are oppressed is a popular tendency in the West (Chakraborti and Zempi, 2012). Many feminists see Muslim women with the hijab as being in need of saving from backwardness and fearful subordination, forgetting that feminism ‘is about celebrating difference and respecting the choices that women make’ (Afshar, 2008: 420). Afshar (2008) argues that, for some Muslim feminists, the veiling of women is directly related to the question of women’s rights, casting it in the light of freedom of choice.

According to some respondents, another stark way in which Turkish women with headscarves are negatively construed is the prejudice that they are illiterate. For instance, Tulay explained that the underlying reason why strangers approached her negatively was that

[t]hey believe that those who wear the hijab are most likely uneducated and thus cannot speak English well. Generally, even when I used to walk around with my friends in charity shops, I always observed that people were more polite toward them, afforded them more special treatment, and were more likely to have conversations with them. I felt that a lot. Even my friends told me that people treated me differently (Tulay).

Tulay, who was first-generation, may have put forward her interpretation that the hijab is portrayed negatively by others based on stereotypes she encountered in the media. The mass media are complicit in the dissemination of negative images of Muslim women (Perry, 2014). This negative representation has engendered a feeling within this research’s participants of being liable to be attacked at any time. Sevil’s words, for instance, powerfully manifest the impact of the negative media portrayal of Muslim women on how she feels in her daily life. When I met her in February 2019, she told me that she had decided to wear a headscarf 4 years earlier. She nevertheless expressed the sentiment that she lives in never-ending fear of people judging her. ‘I see people stare at my hijab. They are going to think that I have those views which are so negatively portrayed in the news. I have not seen racism with my own eyes, but it is still scary. It is still at the back of my mind because of the news.’ Having said that, the media was not the only reason for Sevil’s feeling unsafe in public spaces. She comprehended which behaviours were seen as being normal and which were abnormal for the first time in certain situations during secondary school.

In secondary, I was not wearing a headscarf and a lot of people did not know that I was in “the box” of being a Muslim. This allowed me the opportunity of hearing people. They said whatever they wanted to without any filter about Muslims. The views that I heard from others allowed me to understand how they saw my religion (Sevil).

Having witnessed the presence of racist beliefs and practices at an early age, she became skilled at understanding how her headscarf is generally perceived as being a threat in the eyes of the majority. She, therefore, lives her daily life with an intense sense of these negative impressions. Her perceptions of Islamophobia in everyday life suggest that she has developed a “double consciousness” (Du Bois, 1969). In other words, she is familiar with the majority group’s interpretations of her Muslim identity and, therefore, has explicit knowledge of racist views held against the Muslim society living in the UK. This has also been observed in the case of Black people who had knowledge about the reproduction of racism ‘through communication about racism within the Black community, and by testing their own experiences in daily life’ (Essed, 1991: 1). Unlike Black people, though, Sevil reported that she never experienced any direct racism. Nevertheless, her memories regarding the negative portrayal of Muslims, as well as what is espoused by the media, have helped her to understand how the majority of people perceive Muslims. These two drivers are a clear indication of why she was concerned about Islamophobia as it was rooted both in insight and intuition.

Conclusion

In this article, I have provided an examination of how Islamophobia manifests in the lives of young Turkish people in Britain and how they are racialized at the micro-level. While there has been a myriad of cases that show explicit and severe instances of Islamophobia in Britain and other European countries, the empirical evidence of this study importantly points out that attention must also be paid to the everyday forms of Islamophobia that are not generally readily apparent and not easily documented racialized practices.

The young Turks’ accounts suggest that their ethnic and religious identities are partly constructed as an essentializing form of “Othering” by dominant outsiders and their response to it. This construction from the outside occurred more in everyday forms of Islamophobia. Being asked various stereotypical questions and stopped, searched and questioned at airports caused some respondents to feel reduced to their ethnic and cultural identities and feel uneasy and angry. Visible Turkish-Muslim women, however, are the target of everyday Islamophobia far more than Turkish men and secular women, both of whom do not display any religious signifiers in public places. Rather than one-dimensional discrimination as a woman or a practicing Muslim, the veiled Turkish women face intersectional discrimination. The hijab is being essentialized in the same way that somatic traits are. It has become a symbol of perceived oppressive and subordinating cultural and religious practices. The hijab has exposed veiled Muslim women to various forms of microaggressions with a set of symbolic meanings and associations such as terrorism, extremism, oppression, and backwardness. Having said that, the characteristic that distinguishes this research data from the current literature is that the veiled Turkish women in this study have been confronted by Islamophobic discourses and discrimination during their everyday lives without it being explicit. Thus, contrary to what has been discussed about the Islamophobic experiences of Muslim women in previously conducted studies, the evidence of this research shows that “visible” Turkish women were not the recipients of explicit verbal abuse (e.g. Perry, 2014; Zempi, 2020), were not forced to remove their hijabs, and did not experience any violence or physical harm (e.g. Allen, 2014; Chakraborti and Zempi, 2012). Rather, Islamophobia appeared to them more frequently in a more mundane, subtle way. Furthermore, the majority of those who related female experiences of subtle Islamophobia articulated their mothers’ or wives’ stories rather than their own.