Opinion What Nitish Kumar hijab row reveals about agency, gender and religion

In a recently surfaced video from a public event, Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar was seen pulling down a Muslim woman’s niqab (face cover) while handing appointment letters to AYUSH doctors. The incident swiftly triggered political outrage, followed by television debates, once again placing the hijab, a deeply politicised marker of Muslim women’s identity, at the centre of public discourse. Much of the debate on this matter has focused on Kumar’s gross violation of a physical-moral boundary, treating the incident as an isolated lapse. The incident, however, raises deeper structural questions about consent, gender, and power in Indian democracy. It reinstates hijab as a site of politics in contemporary times.

But why is hijab, an article of clothing and a sartorial choice for Muslim women, so politically contentious? It is rooted in the political meaning the hijab conveys, and the apparent “Muslimness” it imbues. The historical and scriptural evolution of the hijab is a complex and debated topic. However, for argument’s sake, if we assume that the original intention of the hijab was to restrict Muslim women’s autonomy, the meaning of hijab has now metamorphosed from a merely religious practice into a cultural one. The reasoning behind Muslim women embracing the hijab is beyond the binary narrative of coercion and consent. It ranges from religiosity to fashion, from modesty to convenience, from familiarity to curiosity, and from peer pressure to political assertion. Underneath this complexity of choice lies the politics of consent, which asks the pertinent question: Whose choice matters in contemporary India?

Consent is the basis of any democratic formation — citizens agree to be bound by the rules of governance. However, under the majoritarian political climate, the consent of the Muslim minority has eroded significantly. And, when it comes to minority women, especially Muslims, consent gets completely obliterated. The Kumar episode plays with Muslim women’s consent in two ways: Individual consent and democratic consent, showcasing the subtle interplay between the two.

The hijab piques the curiosity of the male gaze — it conceals and hypervisibilises Muslim women’s bodies at the same time. Consider the following example: The day after the incident, Uttar Pradesh minister Sanjay Nishad casually spoke to a local news channel and defended Kumar by saying, “What if he touched elsewhere?” The statement not only denies women’s bodily autonomy, but suggests that revealing what lies behind the veil is an act of thrill. And, violating her body in the absence of the veil would not be a remote possibility. This indicates a violation of personal space, which is acutely gendered. Therefore, counterexamples pitting hijab against ghoonghat, which has been doing the rounds as well, miss the larger picture of gender. A violation is a violation. This, however, is only a partial reading of the incident.

The intricate structure of power is exposed more prominently when we consider who the perpetrator is. And, no, this is not simply about Kumar’s positional power as a Chief Minister. In this case, where the perpetrator is a Hindu man and the violated is a Muslim woman, the structure of power aligns with the perpetrator. It licenses the perpetrator to violate. And gender, in this regard, is deeply entangled with the question of minority. As the Hindu male gaze amplifies with impunity, the majoritarian turn of the Indian democracy weighs heavily on Muslim women.

Let us consider Union Minister Giriraj Singh’s comments, extending his unequivocal support towards Kumar: “…should they not show their face? Is this an Islamic nation? Nitish ji was acting as a guardian…This is India, and only Indian laws will work here.” Even though there is no explicit legal framework in India governing Muslim women’s sartorial choices, Singh’s comments tacitly conflate Indian laws with a Hindu way of being, representing a “true” majority. However, the gist of this comment lies in the word guardian, indicating a protective paternal authority.

Even the progressive champions of liberty routinely frame Muslim women’s choice to wear the hijab as coercion, flexing their saviour complex. Muslim women’s choice to wear a hijab, even when explicitly expressed, is questioned as an act of ignorance. On the other hand, Hindu women’s choice of interfaith marriage is framed as an allurement of “love jihad”. This asymmetry rests on a protectionist rhetoric that ultimately infantilises women and strips them of agency.

Contemporary debates around the hijab reveal a deeper democratic contradiction: Women’s agency is selectively recognised depending on religion. Muslim women, both as individuals and as democratic citizens belonging to a minority, stand at the crossroads of gender and religion. While in the case of the former, they are susceptible to bodily violations, the latter additionally reinforces a politics of protection that ultimately exerts control from a majoritarian vantage point.

The writer is assistant professor, Social Science, National Law School of India University