Waiau district high school

Late last month, a high school teacher in the Indonesian province of Yogyakarta reportedly forced a female Muslim student to wear the hijab – veils worn by Muslim women – causing her to become anxious and depressed .

As a response, the province’s government recently suspended the school’s principal and three teachers involved in the incident.

A 2021 report from Human Rights Watch shows that since 1990, there have been a growing number of national and regional laws regulating uniforms for Muslim girls and women in Indonesia’s education system.

The country’s National Commission on Violence Against Women ( Komnas Perempuan ) has also criticised these clothing standards , saying they might propagate gender bias and misogyny.

These Islamic clothing standards, however, are often seen as symbols of morality and social piety .

Islamic politics play a huge role in shaping hijab and uniform regulations in Indonesian schools, and also the social contexts that affect how these policies are implemented in the education sector.

The reality of Muslim attire in schools

To understand how Indonesia’s political climate affects hijab rules in schools, one can start by looking at the country’s 2014 ministerial regulation that govern school uniforms nationwide.

One section of the regulation states:

Muslim attires for female students are worn according to their personal beliefs and should comply with the predetermined type, model, and colour, to be used in academic activities.

A quick glance at the above phrasing shows that there seems to be no problem – female Muslim students are not compelled to wear “Muslim attire”.

Not only that, from a political perspective, the ministerial regulation was born from the government’s attempt to prevent discrimination against female Muslim students in regions such as Bali, where they are a minority.

The then education minister, Muhammad Nuh, said the law was designed to protect the religious expression of female Muslim students. It was intended to give them space to express their faith through the choice to wear, or to not wear , hijabs and other forms of Islamic attire.

However, according to reports from the National Commission on Violence Against Women and Human Rights Watch, these regulations are often interpreted differently by schools. Education institutions often see it as a lawful basis to “encourage” the use of hijabs among female Muslim students who have yet to wear them.

The ministerial regulation, for instance, says that school uniforms should “strengthen national identity”, and cultivate discipline and state obedience among students.

This spirit is what gives room for schools to establish policies and rules that conform with regional contexts – and in turn the dominant political narrative.

As regions in Indonesia increasingly see Islamic attire as symbols of morality , many schools then push female students to wear hijabs. We saw this in the recent case in Yogyakarta , and even targeted non-Muslim students such as in the 2021 incident in West Sumatra .

How did Indonesia arrive at this point?

Islamic politics in the education sector

The use of hijabs as a representation of Islamic identity in the education sector is tightly related to the revival of Islamic politics in the global, national, and local stage.

From 1965 to 1985 , the strained relation between the Indonesian New Order government and numerous Muslim groups, not to mention the state’s hostile attitude toward Islamic politics, resulted in the ban of hijabs in all public schools .

Students who wore hijabs were met with suspicion, intimidated by teachers and even the military, and were often threatened with expulsion.

The government’s hostility was in turn met with resistance – primarily from the Indonesian Council of Ulema (MUI), the Indonesian Islamic Propagation Council (DII), and the Islamic social organisation Muhammadiyah.

This resistance intensified after the 1979 Iranian Revolution . Iran’s decision to make the hijab compulsory for all women in the country inspired many female Indonesian Muslims.

At the time, the hijab was seen as a symbol of rebellion against the West, a social instrument to combat “moral degradation”, and a form of opposition against the domination of Western politics, economy, and culture. This symbol of being part of the global Muslim “ imagined community ” then became the foundation of the “hijabi movement” in Indonesia.

This movement then spread even further in Indonesian education, particularly universities, throughout the 1980s . This was thanks to the advocacy of a number of Islamic organisations in many campuses across Indonesia.

The presence of the Muslim Brotherhood ( Ikhwanul Muslimin ) in Indonesia , for instance, gave rise to political activism in notable campuses such as Universitas Gadjah Mada (UGM) in Yogyakarta; Universitas Brawijaya in Malang, East Java; Universitas Indonesia in Jakarta, and the Bogor Agricultural Institute (IPB) in West Java.

The Indonesian Muslim Students (PII) also developed advocacy strategies targeted at Muslim students in numerous mosques and cities, including the Mujahidin Mosque in Bandung and the Syuhada Mosque in Yogyakarta.

Then, from 1991 to 1998, the tension between the New Order government and Muslim groups started to thaw. These massive Islamic movements succeeded in repairing political relations with the government and nationalist-secular factions.

It resulted in the Ministry of Education passing a 1991 decree that finally allowed hijabs and Muslim attire in pubic schools. Not only that, the movements also strengthened Islamic values within Indonesian society.

The use of hijabs among students in the 1990s became further widespread as the presence of Islamic clubs or organisations, known as rohis , continued to grow within schools. Wearing the hijab in this period was seen as a symbol of Muslim piety, rebirth ( hijrah ), and identity.

As the Reformation Era ushered in 1998, democratisation in Indonesia gave even more room for the rise of Islamic politics and religious expression in the public sphere.

The significance of hijabs in post-1998 Indonesia then experienced a shift. Religious anthropologist Nancy Smith-Hefner states that the hijab has grown not only to symbolise individual interpretations of Islam , but also as a lifestyle, trend, and a form of social control when interacting with the opposite gender.

A nation fractured

Two decades after the 1998 Reformation, the use of hijabs in schools and campuses is still entrenched in political debate. This reflects in the tension between conservative-fundamentalist Islamic groups, and nationalist-pluralist and mainstream Islamic groups such as Nahdlatul Ulama (NU).

The battle for how the hijab should be regulated in schools shows how social cohesion within Indonesian society continue to erode – particularly as a consequence of sharpening political polarisation after the emergence of democracy and free speech at the end of the 20th century.

The government, civil society, schools, students, parents, and Muslim groups in Indonesia must start to cultivate dialog to bridge these differences.

It is vital for Indonesia’s education sector to ensure access and opportunity for various groups within society to express their choices and interests – including students and the faculty’s decision to wear, or to not wear, the hijab.

—

The writer is a PhD Researcher at KU Leuven

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article .

After a troubled childhood, promising young prop Angel Mulu charged her way into the Black Ferns this season, boosting her dream to play at the Rugby World Cup. She’s also lived up to her name, saving a life at a horror crash.

Angel Mulu has a small tattoo behind her left elbow which represents a heartbeat transforming into rugby goal posts.

She had the image inscribed to represent the importance of rugby in her life. It was her pathway out of trouble.

“I was a troublesome kid, not very good in school except for sports. I played hockey and threw shot put until I first played rugby at Bishop Viard College in Porirua,” 22-year-old Mulu recalls.

“When I was a teenager, my parents split. I went to Tauranga with Mum, and my two brothers stayed in Wellington. It was tough – violence, alcohol, truancy, bad attitude. I wanted to be myself but I didn’t know how to be myself.”

Tauranga Girls’ College helped Mulu find her feet, with rugby a key part of her identity.

“I really struggled when I first arrived in Tauranga. I was used to being around Porirua people; they’re a bit different in Tauranga,” Mulu says. “I had a real rebellious attitude. I didn’t fit in. I didn’t want to be there, most of the teachers didn’t want me there either.

“I was lucky a couple of PE teachers took sympathy. Sometimes we’d just go to the gym and hang out. We didn’t learn anything, but at least we were being physical.

“When they introduced attendance compliance to play rugby I struggled, but it was the start of my turnaround. That little carrot. I had an inner desire to succeed in rugby. Getting things right off the field is harder than getting things right on the field.”

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She’s grateful to PE teachers Jeff Robb and Leo Scott, and her Māori teacher ‘Whaea T’ for getting her through high school.

Mulu started her rugby career playing at hooker, where she was good enough to be selected in the Bay of Plenty U18 team, and then in the short-lived Bay of Plenty women’s rugby academy. Between 2018 and 2021, she played 19 games for the Volcanix, forging a strong relationship with fellow Black Fern Luka Connor.

“Luka was the best thing for me at Bay of Plenty. She was a hooker and taught me how to play prop. I play on the loosehead side which is about trying to outmuscle or trick your opponent,” Mulu says.

Her international potential was first hinted at when she played for the New Zealand Development XV who won all three matches in the Oceania women’s rugby championships in Fiji in 2019.

In May 2021, she was part of history playing in the first women’s Super Rugby match for Chiefs Manawa, who trounced the Blues, 39-12, at Eden Park.

She entered the history books again in March this year, when she scored the first try in Super Rugby Aupiki, driving the ball across the line for Chiefs Manawa seven minutes into the first game against Matatū. Chiefs Manawa went on to win the inaugural Super Rugby Aupiki title.

It was a special honour she says “to represent my family and my surname”.

In late May, the Black Ferns were selected for the Pacific Four series. Mulu was out kayaking when she missed an important phone call, and almost bungled a family barbecue.

“It’s not often my family gets together but time heals. Everyone knew what day the [rugby selection] calls were and planned accordingly, accept me. I went kayaking with my brother to pretend to switch off from the pressure,” Mulu says.

“At the family barbecue I kept checking my phone, fidgeting under the table. When the food was served, I didn’t eat, just poked the fork at the steak and sat at the bench by myself, all lonely.”

Texts and calls flooded into her phone, but the only call she answered was from Luka Connor, who asked if she’d got a call from an unfamiliar number.

Mulu texted the number back. “Within 10 seconds the phone rang. I went to a room away from the barbecue,” she recalls. On the other end of the line was Black Ferns assistant coach Whitney Hansen telling her she’d made the team.

“I was overwhelmed. I had a huge smile,” Mulu says.

“I started eating at the barbecue and Dad was like ‘have you got something to say?’ I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, but I let it slip that I’d made the Black Ferns. We had a huge celebration.”

Mulu debuted off the bench in the Black Ferns’ 23-10 win against Australia in the opening game of the Pacific Four series on a rainy, cold day in Tauranga. It was the Black Ferns’ 20th win on the trot against Australia.

In a special moment, Mulu was presented her test cap, number 236, by Connor. And by coincidence, 236 was the number of the house she grew up in Porirua.

Her whānau were in the grandstand with huge gold balloons spelling out her name.

She was good enough to retain her place on the bench for the 28-0 whitewash of Canada. “The second [test] felt different. It was special but not quite the same high as the first. Still I was like, ‘wow I’m an international player now’,” she says.

Mulu, a senior championship winner at the Mount Maunganui club in 2021, returned to Porirua this year. She helped Northern United win their 16th Wellington championship since 1993, scoring a try in the 58-10 slaying of Marist St Pats in the final.

Norths are rarely beaten, having won 112 of 138 games since 2012, but they had lost twice to Marist during the season.

She was also an important gain for the Wellington Pride in this season’s Farah Palmer Cup, propping up the front row alongside Te Kura Ngata-Aerengamate, also making her Pride debut.

It’s been a special season for Mulu to play in front of her family again, after five years away, so they don’t have to watch her on a livestream anymore.

When Mulu left the Volcanix, head coach Brent Kaua said she would be missed.

“We love Angel. She’s a great human and we wish her all the best in Wellington. She is now based down there so it makes sense that she plays there,” Kaua said. “We had a good convo, and we want to make sure she has the best preparation to ultimately make the World Cup.”

Mulu missed selection in the latest Black Ferns squad to play in the O’Reilly Cup series against Australia later this month. But she still has the opportunity to impress the selectors through the FPC. It goes without saying she wants to play at the World Cup on home soil in October.

Away from the field, she’s already living up to her first name.

Tauranga woman Margaret Gundersen was seriously injured in a car crash in 2019. She suffered six fractured teeth, eight broken ribs, a broken neck, two broken lumbar vertebrae, and a huge gash on her left leg.

Gunderson credits Mulu, then a teenager, with saving her life. Mulu arrived on the scene shortly after the smash, and tapped on her chest when she appeared to stop breathing twice.

“Margaret was moving her neck, saying how sore it was, and I knew it needed to be stabilised and was trying to hold her still,” Mulu told the AMI Insurance website. “I was telling her I would stay with her and that we were getting her grandson, and that made her calm.

“I did think she might die because she did it twice to me, she stopped breathing. I was tapping her and yelling at her, saying, ‘You’re not going anywhere’.

“On one of those occasions, she woke up and asked me if I was a real angel.”

* The Wellington Pride, sitting mid-table, play their fourth FPC game against Manawatu Cyclones this Saturday at 2pm, live coverage on Sky Sport 1.

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