Veiling and management: Muslim women managers in Israel

CCM Article Veiling and management: Muslim women managers in Israel Khalid Arar International Journal of Cross Cultural Management International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 2016, Vol. 16(3) 367–384 ª The Author(s) 2016 Reprints and permissions: sagepub.co.uk/journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/1470595816674745 journals.sagepub.com/home/ccm The Center for Academic Studies, Israel Tamar Shapira Gordon Academic College of Education, Israel Abstract This article explores the motivations of Arab Muslim women managers in Israel who adopt the veil just before or soon after their nomination to management positions. We used narrative research in order to understand this growing phenomenon and its meaning for the women managers in different life spheres. While the research findings stress the different motivations for adopting or rejecting veiling, all the women managers perceived veiling as a phenomenon that has direct consequences for their status in Arab Muslim society and for their ability to function effectively as managers and to introduce far-reaching changes with the support of their community and the staff. The article contributes to our understanding of Muslim women’s visibility in private venues and in the public sphere and reinforces the need for more in-depth comparative cultural studies of veiling perceptions. Keywords Israel, life story, Muslim women managers, traditional clothes, veiling Introduction Muslim women’s increasing adoption of veiling1 in the public sphere has engendered interest, either explicit or implicit, in the last decade in North America, Australia and Europe (e.g. Afshar, 2008; Bhimji, 2009; Droogsma, 2007; Golnaraghi and Mills, 2013; Jamal, 2005; Prasad, 2012). The postcolonial feminist lens has inspired several academic studies that have examined veiling from the perspective of self and others, both in the private venues and in the workplace (Arar et al., 2013; Golnaraghi and Dye, 2012). Corresponding author: Tamar Shapira, Gordon Academic College of Education, 111 Haifa, 1111, Israel. Email: shapira.tamar6@gmail.com 368 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) Other studies have discussed how this issue is reflected in Muslim women’s construction of identity and how the majority population copes with ‘otherness’ in different public spheres (Bullock, 2007; Droogsma, 2007; Sayed and Pio, 2010). While an essential characteristic of management is visibility, in Muslim society, veiling and gender segregation aim to create invisibility for women (Shah, 2010). The tension between the two concepts presents a challenge for female leaders in Muslim societies, one that is not expected, respectively, from men (Arar et al., 2013). Yet, research that focuses on the adoption of veiling by Muslim women managers and its effect on their professional work is almost non-existent. This article aims to fill a specific gap in order to expand our knowledge concerning the adoption of veiling by Arab Muslim women managers in Israel. The article, in particular, asks the following three questions: 1. What motivates Muslim women managers to adopt traditional dress? 2. What is the social meaning of Muslim women managers’ veiling? 3. How does veiling contribute to Muslim women’s functioning as managers? We will attempt to classify the theoretical overview and to cover the context to set the stage for the narrative life story research that we have conducted with 11 female Arab Muslim managers both in education and welfare. With its focus on the case of Arab Muslim women’s adoption of veiling, our findings offer the global community of researchers and theoreticians new insights on the interplay between cultural context and role performance of female Muslim managers. The study, in addition, provides perspective on the applicability of different viewpoints to theories developed in Western contexts to informing and studying female Muslim managers’ practices in other cultures. Traditional society, modernity and veiling The term ‘traditional society’ is usually contrasted with industrial, urbanized and capitalist ‘modern’ society. It is a judgmental term, often implying negative traits associated with being backward, primitive, non-scientific and emotional, although it is sometimes linked with a mythical golden age of close-knit family values and community (Scott and Marshall, 2009: 767). Several scholars have examined the ways that contemporary constructions of the concept of ‘Muslim woman’ have their roots in the Orientalist (Said, 1979) obsession with the hijab (Bullock, 2007; Golnaraghi and Dye, 2012; Prasad, 2012). The intensification of this obsession as a signifier of oppression became evident in the post-9/11 Islamophobic environment that targets Islam and its subjects. ‘Islamophobia can be understood as the fear of Islam, or its adherents, that is translated into individual ideological and systemic forms of oppression’ (Zine, 2006: 9). The concept Muslim women is constructed as an antithetical symbol of the rational, civilized and modern West, according to the Orientalist discourse (Said, 1979). The equation of the niqab and hijab with Muslim women’s oppression by Muslim men is a central point of this discourse (Golnaraghi and Dye, 2012; Golnaraghi and Mills, 2013). The concept Muslim women is used to represent a homogenous fixed category with a common identity and set of interests (Prasad, 2012). Discussing the issue of veiling by Muslim women in the West, Afshar (2008) concludes that the decision to wear the veil is a public political assertion of their right to belong to the community of Muslims: ‘Within liberal and democratic states and feminist contexts their decision to wear the Hijab is a matter of faith and identity and a political act of solidarity but not one that alienates them from their kin and communities’ (p. 419). Arar and Shapira 369 Ahmad (2008) voices a different viewpoint: ‘The veil remains a lodestone of political Islam . . . to represent the status quo of the Muslim women who veil and its bearer’s identity in both the Muslimminority and Muslim-majority worlds’ (p. 99). She wishes ‘all Muslim women could simply agree that the Hijab is not an issue in a Muslim-majority or a Muslim-minority setting but rather an internal deep connection to an individual’s devotion to and understanding her Allah’ (pp. 99–101). The style of veiling is also a significant issue widely discussed in literature (Ahmad, 2008; Bhimji, 2009; Gole, 2003; Tarlo, 2007; Williamson and Khiabany, 2010). Researchers in Western Europe and North American have associated the wearing of the hijab with fashion and cosmopolitanism, and according to Afshar (2008), ‘veiling is a public political assertion of the right to belong to the community of Muslims’ (p. 419). Muslim minority women’s identity in non-Muslim majority societies Droogsma (2007) found that American Muslim women’s attitude concerning veiling actually redefines the concept of the hijab. Since the events of September 2001, due to an increased general fear of Muslims in the United States, reactions to Muslim women wearing the hijab, veil or scarf include suspicion and close inspection. For Americans, women’s veiling often constitutes a concrete symbol of ethnic and religious otherness. Yet, few of them bother to ask how it influences their daily lives. Droogsma (2007) noted that researchers tend to attribute meaning instead of describing the meaning of the veil according to those who wear it. Other studies that examined the practice of veiling only investigated veiling in Muslim societies or assumed that the meaning of veiling was identical for Muslim women in both Muslim and non-Muslim societies (Khan, 2009). A study by Bhimji (2009) investigated whether British Muslim women were committed to Islam. She found that when women participated in strictly religious spheres within collective groups, they were able to assume several identities as they attempted to learn about and understand Islam. Entering these religious spheres dominated until now by men, they transformed these spheres by expressing their feminine, political and cosmopolitan identities. The veil was just one aspect of their religious identity. The mosque was one of the spheres that empowered these women, since they met their women friends there and acquired social connections. According to Bhimji, holy sites should be considered as an interface between religiosity and other identities, dynamic spaces that may contain many different identities. A similar approach was voiced by Jamal (2005) in her study of American Muslim women. She considered religious institutions as communities or groups of people who regularly meet and share their beliefs and values, creating a common experience. Several researchers have studied Muslim women’s expression of their religiosity in various national contexts, including wearing overt symbols of this religiosity such as veiling (Bhimji, 2009; Gole, 2003; Sa’ar, 2006). Tarlo (2007) described the cosmopolitan characteristics of Muslim women’s dress. Bhimji (2009) indicated that this cosmopolitan style was adopted by Muslim women to express their sense of dual affiliation in different countries such as England and Southern Asia, symbolizing a sense of belonging to the country of residence indicating citizenship, national affinity, gender, ethnicity and emotional dimensions of status and connections. According to Tarlo (2007), in contrast to what might be assumed, Muslim women’s ‘stylish’ dress is not necessarily a product of their religion or of their cultural tradition (see also Mahadevan, 2015). Instead, she sees this cosmopolitan appearance as part of a reciprocal play between local circumstances and global forces that contributes to the introduction of new forms of Muslim cosmopolitanism, in which fashion plays a central role. 370 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) Williamson and Khiabany (2010) claimed, in contrast, that the scarf has become the image of otherness, a refusal to assimilate and an example of the failure of multiculturalism. As such, it is an important symbol of homogenization and demonization of Muslims in Britain. It separates the issues of gender and Islam from their broader social contexts and leads to overt intolerant and racist perceptions. Other scholars have discussed how Muslim women demonstrate authority and cope with conflicting cultural identities within formal educational spaces. Examining the motivations of British women of South African origin, Ahmad (2008) discovered that the women she interviewed had to negotiate between traditional and modern ‘Western’ norms. Discussing the obstacles that British Muslim women encountered in their studies and education, Shain (2003) pointed to the ways in which they demonstrate their resistance to inequality, racism, sexism and social stratification within the educational world. Droogsma (2007) indicates that while predominant perceptions of the hijab assume that it symbolizes the suppression of women, women who wear it hold a completely different view regarding its role in their lives. The women she interviewed were far from feeling subjugated and indicated that their hijab fulfilled several functions in their lives, some of them empowering. Muslim women variously see the role of their headdress as defining Muslim identity, acting to check behaviour, enabling resistance to sexual objectification and providing freedom. They may wear the headdress not only for personal reasons but also in order to demonstrate their attitudes to others and thus to confront other ideological perceptions of this practice. In management, Muslim women adopted veiling as a way of expressing their belonging to their community ethos, in order to increase their visibility in the public sphere and increase their circles of support (Arar and Shapira, 2013). Thus, veiling legitimates their agency and increases their connectedness and their chance to lead, while in modern Western clothes, they might be considered less reliable or connected (Arar et al., 2013). Research context: Arab society in Israel When the State of Israel was established in 1948, the Palestinian Arab minority remaining within Israel’s borders numbered a mere 156,000. By 2013, the Arab population numbered 1,658,000, representing 20.7 per cent of the country’s population (Central Bureau of Statistics, 2013). The Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel (PAI) are a unique national minority. This is a former majority that became a minority in its own land overnight. In contrast to many minorities around the world, this is not a minority of immigrants but an indigenous minority of natives. Although some disputed arguments stress that the settlement of Palestine by Jews preceded that of the Arab– Palestinian population (Morris, 1991), this contested national project increases the tension between local majority and minority populations (Arar and Haj-Yehia, 2016). As citizens of a state that is officially defined as Jewish, Arab citizens of Israel contend with constant identity conflict (Rouhana, 1997). Most PAI identify themselves as Palestinians and part of the Arab nation although they are citizens of a country that is in conflict with members of its own people, the Palestinian people in neighbouring states and with the Arab nation (Abu-Lughod, 2010). The complex collective identity of the Palestinian Arab community in Israel comprises several elements: citizenship (Israeli), nationality (Palestinian), ethnicity (mostly Arab) and religion (Islamic or Christian or Druze). Palestinian Arabs in Israel see their identity as involving a mix of these four elements, or as a delicate balance among them, or as one identity displacing another (Smooha, 2002). This ongoing identity dilemma alters with changing circumstances, evoking Arar and Shapira 371 multilayered discourse relating to issues such as ‘ethnic democracy’, ‘multiculturalism’, ‘Palestinian indigenousness’ and Israel as an ‘ethnocracy’ (Yiftachel and Ghanem, 2004). Many Palestinians in Israel share the belief that the development of Palestinian society in Israel is not a natural development but simply the product of crisis (Abu-Lughod, 2010; Ghanem and Rouhana, 2001). The Arab minority in Israel encompasses multiple cultures, religions, ideologies, statuses and geographical regions. Within this population, in 2012, 82.1 per cent were Muslims, 9.4 per cent were Christians and 8.5 per cent were Druze (Central Bureau of Statistics 2013, Table 2.1). Although Arabs live on the whole in separate towns and villages (apart from a few major multiethnic cities), they are in constant contact with the Jewish population through work, trade and higher education (Arar et al., 2013). The Arab community generally follows a traditional conservative culture in contrast to the Jewish majority population, which is largely oriented to modern Western culture (Arar, 2014). Interestingly, a high percentage of Muslim women in Israel don the hijab; yet, in contrast to Western countries such as Canada and France, this group is not targeted by policymakers or the media in a discourse such as that relating to ‘hyperveiling’ in those countries, exaggerating the significance of the veil and the risk posed by Muslim women who wear it (Arar et al., 2013; Golnaraghi and Mills, 2013). Gender, leadership and Arab women managers in Israel Despite a dramatic increase in research on gender and educational leadership in Western European and North America during the last three decades (Fuller, 2011; Grogan and Shakeshaft, 2011), knowledge concerning gender and educational leadership in developing societies is still relatively limited (Arar et al., 2013; Oplatka, 2006). In particular, little is known about cultural determinants affecting female leadership in Arab societies. Authors writing in the Gulf States note that in Arab society, it is widely believed that women’s place is primarily at home. If they are inclined to pursue a profession, their participation is expected to be in areas of education, health (mainly nursing) and other support or clerical jobs largely at the lower end of organizational hierarchies; leadership positions are typically reserved for men (AlLamsky, 2007; Al-Suwaihal, 2010). ‘Gender regulation’ determines gender norms in all the different dimensions of a particular culture, and a culture may be identified as either modern or traditional according to the extent to which it adopts and enforces a specific gender order. In the regulation of gender roles, a distinction is often drawn between the public and private spheres of human activity (Sa’ar, 2006). The public sphere is the domain where politico-economic needs are met, where relationships are characterized by competitiveness, rationality and benefit, often considered more suitable for men. The private sphere is perceived as an area of intimate relationships, characterized by reciprocity, compromise, concern and emotion, often considered more suitable for women. Recent studies (Fitzgerald, 2010; Oplatka, 2006) have described the social blocks and resistance that women from developing countries face when they aspire to reach managerial posts. Women’s path to leadership is especially difficult in these societies. Research has shown that rigid traditional patriarchal norms prevent the appearance of women in the public sphere in these societies and support the maintenance of male dominance in managerial posts. Research has found that, like their counterparts in developing countries, Arab women in Israel face sociocultural obstacles on their way to senior management positions (Arar et al., 2013). As minority group members in Israel, Arab employment market opportunities are limited. Only 47 per 372 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) cent of all Arabs are employed in the Israeli labour market in comparison to 69 per cent of the Jewish population, while only 27 per cent of Arab women are employed in contrast to 68 per cent of Arab men graduates (Gara, 2013). Approximately 5.3 per cent of the Arab male population hold managerial positions in contrast to 1.6 per cent of the Arab female population (contrasted with 6.2 per cent of the Jewish female population) (Central Bureau of Statistics, 2013, Table 12.18). Consequently, only a very few Arab women succeed in breaking through the ‘glass ceiling’ that restricts their aspirations for social mobility. A review by the Galilee Association indicated that less than 1 per cent of Palestinian Arab women in Israel work in senior management (Gara, 2013). The gender separation norm encourages employers in the public sector to prefer women for roles serving females and children, thus protecting them from competition with men (Sa’ar, 2011). Feminist literature relating to Arab society describes women’s attempts to cope with the modern world while continuing to respect their traditions (Arar et al., 2013). This particular context has its own specific lifestyles, family relations, perceptions of power and justice and career paths that distinguish it from Western society and necessitate appropriate coping strategies (Oplatka and Arar, 2015). Thus, as seen in this article for Muslim women, the hijab can actually constitute a means for women to break into the public sphere and to become part of society’s influential circles, in contrast to the prevalent Orientalist view that the headdress restricts the Muslim woman (Arar and Shapira, 2013). Research method The research objective was to obtain a detailed picture of the lives of women educational leaders in Arab society in Israel; more specifically, it focused on the meaning of the transition to veiling for Muslim female managers. This issue drew our attention from the beginning of a larger research study of the lives of these women leaders, since we noticed that more and more women who had been appointed to management positions transitioned to veiling, especially donning head coverings of different sorts, which was very salient. Our research was conducted within the collective case study framework defined by Stake (2000), whereby the researcher examines a number of cases in order to investigate a phenomenon, population or general condition (p. 437). This is an instrumental2 study expanded to several cases in order to understand a wider range of cases. At the same time, this approach enables the unique story of each participant to be told (Lieblich et al., 1998). As our study employed an interpretive paradigm, we used the models suggested by Primecz et al. (2009). We see our work as an example of the intercultural interactions (pp. 269–270), suggested by these authors, within Arab society, but at the same time, our study relates to multicultural interactions between Arab and Jewish populations in Israel. The participants and the interviews This article follows 11 women’s stories related to veiling in the public sphere and the contribution of this practice for Muslim women who function as managers. The research sample included eight school principals – Imam, Manal, Nadra, Narin, Salima, Samira, Suheir and Wardi; one, Nasreen, who is the manager of a Teacher’s Education Center; and two municipal welfare department managers – Ikram and Ibtesam (see interviewees’ details in Table 1). As an Arab Muslim researcher and a school principal for more than a decade, I have witnessed the gradual entry of Arab Muslim women into the managerial arena, a domain that until recently was considered an exclusively male territory. My research, conducted together with a female Jewish 373 Arar and Shapira Table 1. Participants’ family backgrounds, education and management position. Name (all names are fictitious) Ibtesam Ikram Wardi Manal Nadra Imam Nasreen Narin Suheir Salima Samira Participants’ family backgrounds; education; and management position 43 years old, married þ three children; BA and MA in social work; welfare office manager for past 5 years in her village 48 years old, married þ three children; BA in social work; welfare office manager in regional council 50 years old, married to education centre manager þ four children þ grandchildren. BEd in education and graduate of management course; first woman principal in the Arab settlement in which she lives 8 years in management 50 years old, married to journalist þ three adult children; BEd in education and graduate of management course; elementary school principal in Arab town 38 years old; BSc in physics, MEd in educational counselling and graduate of management course; high school teacher in Arab village where she lives with 3 years of experience in management Secular Muslim woman, 54 years old, married þ four children; BA degree in education and management course; principal in elementary village school for 11 years 51 years old, married þ four children; first degree in mathematics and sciences and MEd in educational management; Manager of Education Center 45 years old, married þ three children; BSc graduate of management course; principal in elementary village school for 7 years 39 years old, secular Muslim, single; BA in Israel studies and graduate of management course; school principal for 4 years in village where she lives 48 years old, married þ four children; BA in Arabic and linguistics and studying for MA; school principal for 8 years in village where she lives 38 years old, secular Muslim married þ three children, lives in mixed Jewish/Arab town; MEd in educational counselling; principal of school in Arab village for 5 years BA: Bachelor of Arts; MA: Master of Arts; BEd: Bachelor of Education; BSc: Bachelor of Science; MEd: Master of Education. researcher, relates to the induction process of these new female Arab principals. Our research, spanning five years, examined the processes and changes inherent in the entry of Arab Muslim women into managerial positions, the related struggles, the challenges, and the changes they led in the education and welfare systems of Arab Muslim society in Israel. Our joint research has allowed us to simultaneously view this phenomenon from inside and outside, enriching the quality and internal validity of the picture that it produced and reinforcing the authenticity of the findings presented here. Seven interviews were conducted in 2008–2009 in Hebrew by the second author. Four interviews were conducted in 2008–2010 in Arabic by the first author. The interviews were held in the managers’ offices or in their homes, and they were recorded with their consent and later transcribed. The interviewees were very cooperative and seemed interested to tell their stories. Open questions employed to elicit the women’s stories were: ‘Tell me about your decision to wear veiling?’; ‘What is the meaning of veiling for you?’; ‘Tell me how you made this decision to cover your head?’; ‘Tell me about everything relating to this decision?’ and ‘What was the reaction to this change?’ 374 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) Interview analysis The stories that emerged from the interviews were analysed according to the ‘Listener’s guide’, a strategy developed from psychological studies of girls’ development (Gilligan et al., 2004). This strategy requires four readings aiming to follow and identify the different ‘voices’ heard in the text. This process enables the exposure of the narrators’ relations with themselves, with others and with the society to which they belong. As noted, this strategy was taken from psychological research and adapted for use in the educational field (Arar et al., 2013). One specific reading, relating to the women’s choice regarding the adoption of veiling and its meaning for Arab Muslim women managers in public systems, is presented here. Findings The following categories were identified: (a) the women’s choice to adopt veiling; (b) the meaning of veiling for Muslim managers; (c) changes in management style; and (d) veiling and traditional clothing from an intercultural view. Veiling is part of our tradition and religious faith The issue of veiling was connected in different ways to the interviewees’ appointment to management. All of them indicated a direct connection between veiling and their community’s consideration of them (Arar and Shapira, 2013). Although two of them resisted this change, for all of them whether or not they decided to alter their clothing, this matter was very important and very meaningful for them. One explanation for this change of clothing was very personal and concerned the women’s spiritual world. Nadra explained her decision: At the age of 37, I became religious. I grew up in a very open home, and I was a real fashion model. My external appearance . . . was very important to me. I became religious after deliberating inner questions: Why didn’t I pray? Why did only part of me believe while another part did not? Narin’s faith had been part of her life from childhood, and she described her clothing style as an external expression of her inner world. When I became a principal, I was completely secular. The crises that I underwent were not easy. When a person copes with his problems alone, there are two possibilities . . . Either you can go to a psychologist who can help you to cope or your treatment may be spiritual. That is how I began to read the Koran. And it made me feel good. I said: ‘My direction is spiritual’. I have prayed since I was 13, even when I was studying in a Jewish school; it seems that praying involves belonging to something. I really felt a lack of affiliation and roots. I first covered my head when my uncle died . . . so what would be bad if I completed this process and became a religious person? I just need a head covering. I won’t wear it completely closed. Also, for several managers, head covering was a continuation of the education that they had received and they described it as the right thing to do as managers. Moreover, it was natural to wear the veil and traditional clothing that covers the body during Ramadan, which several did, as Manal elaborated: It is a Muslim town; everyone fasts, so I fasted. Everyone prayed, so I prayed. When you pray you cover your head and you should cover up, wearing something long. For the past few years during Ramadan I had Arar and Shapira 375 put on a shawl to cover my head and then I would go out. Suddenly I began to play with the shawl. I wasn’t ready for it at all. Not mentally and not . . . I really hadn’t thought about it. I put the shawl on, it pleased me. I said: O.K., I’m going to school. Similar to Manal, Ikram also described a process of negotiation with her family concerning her appearance, under continuous pressure from her oldest brother who is a Muslim sheikh. My oldest brother is a very religious sheikh with a beard. He was always asking me ‘Well Ikram, when? . . . when will you wear a head covering?’ I began to cut my hair . . . I told him: ‘I pray and I believe’. I was forty-one. My brother said to my mother: ‘I love Ikram and really respect her, she is married with children, and she has a [public] function [in the community]. It’s gone far enough, she is always shortening her hair and she has begun to wear short sleeves’. One day when Ramadan began, I put on a shawl and since then I have been like this. A similar background played a dominant role in Nasreen’s decision to adopt veiling, although the process was difficult for her: I come from a conservative, traditional home, I also think it’s important what people say about me . . . I waited for the right moment; the transition was difficult for me, the change. Without traditional clothing, it was easier, if I go into the Ministry of Education in Tel Aviv, it’s easier. The decision had to come from me. I was always a believer, only the clothing was missing. Similarly, the women’s communities affected their choices (see Prasad, 2012). Many of the interviewees’ stories revealed that they belonged to traditional communities, and this context was linked directly to their decision to adopt veiling (Arar and Shapira, 2013; Sayed and Pio, 2010). Ibtesam wanted her personal decision to comply with what was expected of the official appearance of a welfare office manager in the village, but she had serious reservations concerning this change: I love to look beautiful, but I also love to pray. Reading the Koran calms me a lot. For me to alter my dress and wear a gown and a veil was really not easy. I used to enter the local council, I was the only woman there in jeans, and I felt different. My decision came from an inner conviction, inner persuasion, and a sort of maturity. I always considered the opinion of the village, especially with regard to my appearance outside. Wardi linked her decision to cover her head, in a like manner, with the expected norm in her age group – she was 48 years old at the time of the interview – and with her function as principal: In Islam when we pray we put veils on our heads. When I finished I would take it off . . . I was religious, but in my own style, but sometimes you feel that something is missing. I am a principal in a school where most of the women teachers, even the youngest, wear a veil on their head. Most women of my age do. If I am religious and if I go to pray every day, it just remains to put a veil on my head. As can be seen, the transition to traditional dress was influenced by the family, a sort of social desire to please or to belong to the group within which they live and interact, especially the professional community under whose shadow they conduct their work, which is mostly a male community (the local mayor, supervisor and so on) or other reference groups within the organization such as the school’s teachers and colleagues of their own age. Nevertheless, this alteration in their appearance elicited various reactions. 376 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) The women’s stories indicated that their spouses’ reactions to their veiling often differed from the reaction of their families of origin. Some spouses did not mention the issue at all, but supported their wife’s decision, and there were those who expressed resistance to their adoption of veiling. In contrast, the family of origin usually represented the community that expected the woman to cover herself in modest clothing when she was appointed to a public function (Arar and Shapira, 2013; Golnaraghi and Dye, 2012). Thus, the family’s opinions represented environmental pressures (Shapira, Arar and Azaiza, 2011; Zine, 2006). It seems that the attempt of these women to connect with their different circles of affiliation reinforces the support that they receive in their principalship. A few Muslim female school principals chose to resist these pressures and were very dissatisfied by this phenomenon. Yet, they also noted the advantages of adopting traditional clothing as principal of a Muslim school (Mahadevan, 2015). Suheir, a secular high school principal, was in continual conflict with those around her regarding her appearance. She was determined not only to reject traditional dress for herself but also wanted to confront the fact that she was assessed as a principal by her choice of dress: During the academic year I dress modestly. Sometimes I have a rather sportive appearance. When there are special events, especially religious events and on Ramadan, I try to be suitably attired. So I don’t dress too extravagantly; more traditional but also ordinary . . . because I define myself as very secular. Similarly, Samira, a high school principal, explained her resistance to veiling: I believe and yet I am not religious . . . I don’t feel at all that it is something that I have to do . . . it may be something that comes from true belief . . . I don’t know why women do that . . . if I did wear such clothes then the attitude towards me would change, but I will not wear anything like it. Although transition to the veil was affected by external pressure, such as that of their family and community (Arar et al., 2013), these women reached this decision from an inner choice due to their position in their community and as part of the formation of their new gender identity that would lead to them being accepted and maximize their ability to enter circles of influence in their society (Bullock, 2007; Sayed and Pio, 2010). Thus, transition to veiling gave expression to this belief and allowed them to be seen as observing the religious norms of their community (Golnaraghi and Mills, 2013). All of them were aware of the social meaning associated with their decision to alter or alternatively not to alter their dress. The next voice (theme) expresses the meaning given to their adoption of veiling in different life spheres. The meaning of veiling for Muslim managers Muslim women who attain managerial positions conduct a professional career in the public sphere, which is not always accepted behaviour in Arab communities, where women are expected to remain within the private, domestic sphere (Arar, 2014; Arar et al., 2013). This means that veiling in the public sphere has special meaning. In addition, women in management positions participate in professional forums at different levels and often act in multicultural spheres dominated by Jewish entities or in spheres shared equally by Jews and Arabs (Arar, 2014; Arar et al., 2013). This creates a confrontational arena which also affects appearance and visibility. Salima expresses the reasoning: I care when people talk about me in the community, everyone needs to recognise that Salima is not only a good principal but also a good mother and a good wife. So, if you’ll excuse my expression, I am not a ‘Jewish woman’, because in our collective perception a Jewish woman is one who neglects her home, she Arar and Shapira 377 only cares about her career. I have to convince my society that although I am an educated woman, I can also look after my home and my children, and still conduct a successful career. Interestingly, Wardi, who felt that veiling was the natural thing to do, talked about the respect that it represented: It doesn’t restrict me at all. Because wherever I go in Israel or in the world, I see people who are the same. It also brings more respect for the adult woman. At my age that uncovered look is no longer acceptable. I want to respect my status and to respect my religion, so I do it. In contrast to Salima and Wardi, Suheir thought that veiling was very restrictive: I’m not willing to believe that it’s not restrictive . . . it irritates me . . . we live in a very belligerent and dangerous world, so it’s as though we want to tie ourselves to something more spiritual. It’s as though the society wants it. I feel that it’s a bad fad, and I don’t believe that it will enable me to do everything if I wear a veil. I wouldn’t say that I don’t respect it, but personally I think it’s restrictive. These women needed to connect while preserving their Muslim identities in their connections and encountering the sphere of Israeli otherness, a notion expressed by Salima: It depends, among other things, on identity. You want to look like everyone else, to speak like everyone else. If you go to the university, you want to be part of the Israeli experience. But, nevertheless, you also want to maintain your uniqueness, your identity, and that’s a part of the evolution of your identity that is still not completely formed. Leading within the community is important and crucial to these managers, and traditional appearance stresses their belonging, as described by Ibtesam: My work with the community, being inside our village, influenced me, but gradually . . . I feel that I am part of the community, not separate from it, it gives me strength, protects me, makes me more respected, more meaningful, more authoritative and it only adds without subtracting anything. In another place in the interview, she stressed the blessings she received from ‘the entire village’, which clearly reflected the realization of their expectations for a particular dress code from her: One day I came to school, people went past me and didn’t recognise me, they didn’t say good morning because they didn’t believe it was me. People in the school were surprised. I dressed like that on Monday; on Tuesday the entire village came to the school to look at me, they didn’t say they had come specially, but I felt it. They went past and looked and said congratulations. Suheir, on the contrary, resisted people’s pressures regarding her lifestyle: There are pressures. They have no right to pressure me, but it is as though they transmit messages . . . But I’m not willing . . . [to allow them to judge] the success of this school by whether I wear it or not. I want them to understand that it’s irrelevant. Don’t look to see whether I’m wearing a head covering or not. Really look deeper to see what I am going to give you and what I want to contribute to school . . . Suheir’s story stresses attention because her resistance to societal pressure makes the whole picture complete. Visibility and contrast are present in everyday life when she is in the Arab community, but she loses her visibility in the Israeli majority society as we will see later. Whether 378 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) they choose to alter their visibility as managers or to resist veiling, it seems that their visibility constructs their interaction and management style, as we will see in the following voices (theme). Changes in management style Previous research findings of gender and cultural differences in managerial style stressed that female managers tend to adopt a democratic, participative style, whereas men are more apt to display an autocratic, directive style (Arar and Oplatka, 2014). Men are more likely than women to emphasize organizational structure and to avoid conflict (Arar and Oplatka, 2014; Grogan and Shakeshaft, 2011). In these research findings, we similarly uncovered changes that the women managers introduced into the Arab schools. Imam described her work as principal and her management style: I worked with the school community until late in the day in order to build everything from the start, to develop the staff, to put together a school credo. I worked towards the parents and together with the parents. It took me two years until we gained the parents’ trust, it took me two years to write my credo, and at the same time, the teachers’ group underwent supplementary studies, as did the parents’ group. Together we reached a world view describing the school that we wanted. In one sentence, I determined: ‘This place will be a pleasure to come to’. In order for me to be able to work long hours and to have more confidence in working with men, veiling and traditional appearance protects me and strengthens my professionalism, rather than my femininity. Imam’s narrative stresses that when the principal appears in immodest clothing, she becomes a focal point for criticism and there is less possibility that she can convene freely with men, meaning that her ability to appear in public diminishes, and this can reduce the space of her professional activity. In contrast, when the female principal appears in traditional dress, this widens the possibility of appearing in public, even in late evening hours, and in male domains, something that increases her ability to succeed as a principal and to motivate broader audiences in her community. Wardi also elaborated her need for belonging in order to attain the community’s support: In order for me as a woman to widen the circles of support of my department’s activities, and attain women and children’s participation in different supportive courses, I need to connect with my community, since I also rely on the community resources and support . . . thus I couldn’t play the stranger’s role anymore . . . meanwhile, I don’t see veiling as a price I pay for my own success, it is a belonging. I choose to veil myself. Similarly, Salima stressed belonging and connecting in her role as manager in a welfare department in order to move others: I have daily interaction with the village mayor and my colleagues in the municipality. Even though I come from a secular family and village, gradually, I altered my dress in order to connect and mobilise others. Manal expressed how being religious affected her management style: As I have started to pray to God, and read different religious texts, I started to see my role differently, my faith, granted me collective responsibility for the school community. I started to see myself not as before, as a school principal, but as the person who has been sent to enable them, to take care of them and to empower them. Arar and Shapira 379 As we can see, Iman, Wardi and Salima all constructed a solution based purely on professional considerations and their belief in their chosen path of helping their communities through connectedness, trying to adopt a stance of leading from within the community and supportive circles both in educational and welfare arenas. Veiling and traditional clothing from an intercultural view Arab women in managerial posts are exposed at different levels to the Jewish environment. Most of them have a bachelor’s or master’s degree from one of the Israeli universities or colleges of education. Female principals are in constant contact with different entities in the Ministry of Education; they participate in regional forums and continuously meet with their Jewish colleagues. Welfare office managers also conduct professional relations with their regional office and receive mentoring and instruction for various projects (Arar et al., 2013). All the women were well aware of the reactions that their transition in appearance caused in this milieu from other women. Wardi linked the reactions that she received to the war between Israel and the Hamas and Hizballah: With those Jewish women who knew me and now encounter me [in my new appearance], it now seems different. Many women I knew and who come to visit me say “what happened to you Wardi, why? What happened to you?” As if I have gone mad or something fell on my head. ‘Oh you used to look so wonderful’. I think that political views are more influential than cultural views. If we were not at war with the Hamas and all sorts of people on the West Bank, it would not have such an effect on the Jewish sector. But everyone behaves as though we had some sort of link with Hamas and Hizballah and those radicals who say: ‘death to the Jews’. Manal experienced similar reactions of shock concerning her change of apparel: You enter the Ministry of Education: ‘What happened?’ They think that something bad has happened to me. I have to begin to explain myself, as if before it had all been natural and now it’s not at all natural. You respond and then they ask again: ‘but why? . . . what made you do this?’ A woman in traditional dress is considered religious and this is sometimes given interpretations as if we could not hear what they are saying. Similarly, Salima describes the reactions of shock concerning her dress when she moved from her immediate circles of interaction to that of her Jewish colleagues: The real surprise was at Oranim Education College. I arrived there and they said ‘Salima, why on earth would you do this, we don’t believe it. Where is your hair?’ The coordinator of the novice principals said: ‘You must explain this to me, I don’t believe it’. I said: ‘The time has come.’ Yet, Ibtesam actually felt that she was accepted despite her changed appearance: A short explanation in the beginning and they forgot about it. I did not feel that their consideration changed. The truth is that in this Jewish society it’s not like in Europe. They have become used to our presence and our appearance. Sometimes they see it as a paradox: ‘She speaks Hebrew better than Jews, how can she be religious?’ And then you have to explain. I manage the welfare office, I am respected and I have a presence. My opinion is important for many people, they take advice from me and my dress just part of . . . it affiliates me with my natural reference group . . . when I wear this dress I am reinforced and protected. 380 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) One of the most sensitive subjects that some of the women principals mentioned was the need to distinguish their identity as Muslim women and yet the fear that they would be perceived as bonding with the enemy (Afshar, 2008). So, it was not by chance that they stressed and tried to convince others that they had not altered as a result of the external change in their dress (Arar and Shapira, 2013). Wardi’s story illustrates this fear of being seen as radical by Jews: Twelve years ago I was at a course and I slept in the room of my [Jewish] colleague Yaffa at a hotel in Tel Aviv. Yaffa told me that she had to go out to visit a friend. They met at a restaurant. When she came back she brought her girlfriend with her, and I opened the door for them. Her friend entered and sat down. She looked at me like this and I was in my nightdress. [I thought]: why is she looking at me like that? After she went Yafa told me: Wardi, I have to tell you something. I was in a restaurant with some girlfriends and I told them: ‘Wardi will go crazy if I come back late, she has to get up and open the door.’ Then they said ‘who is Wardi’. I told them that she was my roommate. They asked me ‘what, you’re sleeping with an Arab in your room? How can you close the door when you have an Arab girl sleeping in your room?’ She said ‘I have to come with you to your room and see how you sleep with her in the same room.’ The need of these managers to affiliate with their religion, community and normal environment, and to form a coherent personal and professional identity is sometimes accepted with difficulty in their professional interaction with Jewish colleagues. In this sphere, they have to engage in positioning themselves as Muslim women, on the one hand, and as managers who seek to belong both to their cultural and professional peer groups (Ahmad, 2008; Bhimji, 2009). The transition from the personal world to the professional one creates a paradox because Muslim managers who decide to adopt veiling have to deal with Israeli reality (Arar and Shapira, 2013). Discussion The research focused on the meaning of adopting veiling for Muslim women managers in the educational and welfare systems in Israel. The findings clearly demonstrated that for Muslim women managers, the decision to adopt veiling seems to have been very personal, even if there was some family pressure or social expectations in their surroundings to adopt veiling. Similar pressures are not applied to men, as has been observed in other cultures, such as India (Mahadevan, 2015). Nevertheless, the change was not simply incidental, and sociocultural–religious messages played a decisive part in women’s decisions (Bhimji, 2009; Droogsma, 2007; Prasad, 2012). The women described very personal reasons for the change in attire: a spiritual response to difficulties and distress; wearing a shawl during Ramadan; pressures from the family; dressing like other adult women; and accepting that this should be the way for Muslim woman to dress (Bullock, 2007). Most of the women managers declared that from the start they had always believed in God, only the manner of dress was missing. This change is very empowering, a motive we found mentioned in studies in Western countries (Bhimji, 2009; Golnaraghi and Dye, 2012; Golnaraghi and Mills, 2013; Shain, 2003). The external process of the transition stems from their acculturation in their family of origin that reflects the community’s expectation that women should wear modest clothing upon attaining a managerial position and working in the public sphere. The family, thus, represents societal pressures (Sayed and Pio, 2010; Zine, 2006). Thus, women adopted veiling in order to be seen as more reliable and to increase their agency and leadership positions in Arab Muslim society, expand their circles of community support and legitimize their authority to manage within their society (Shah, 2010). Quite the reverse, appearing in modern Western clothes hinders their access to the public sphere (Arar et al., 2013). Arar and Shapira 381 However, their Jewish colleagues responded with surprise. The change in the manner of dress is often perceived as an extreme step by their Jewish colleagues, as if the change in clothing expresses religious, or even political, extremism symbolizing opposition to the State of Israel (Arar and Shapira, 2013). This is similar to what is heard in the North American reality (Golnaragi, 2013; Sayed and Pio. 2010). The responses of the Jewish community reflect stereotypical perceptions based on outward appearance (Said, 1979). They stem from the fact that in the Jewish community in Israel, there is a dichotomy between religious and secular Jews, and differences in outward appearance represent this dichotomy (Arar and Shapira, 2013). The society where the women we interviewed live is traditional and covering the head only illustrates this lifestyle. It symbolizes their attachment to their culture as part of their desire to receive ‘power’ from within and not in opposition to the society they serve (Mahadevan, 2015; Shah and Shaikh, 2010). Since the events of 11 September 2011, Muslim women who wear the hijab are a source of scrutiny and suspicion following the general fear of Muslims in the Western world (Droogsma, 2007; Sayed and Pio, 2010). It is also worthwhile mentioning that in the discussion on the prominent symbols of Islam, the hijab has become an expression of otherness, refusal to integrate and an example of the failure of multiculturalism (Gole, 2003; Sa’ar, 2006). Along with the personal reasons that led the women managers to alter an external component of their identity by adopting traditional dress, an obvious sociocultural motive appeared throughout the interviews (Mahadevan, 2015). Most of these women had only attained their appointments through fierce struggle. Their right to these appointments was often challenged, restricting them to the boundaries of their homes (Arar et al., 2013). Arab women in Israel face particular challenges that shape their coping strategies (Sa’ar, 2006), and therefore, veiling makes them more acceptable in the public sphere of their communities (Ahmad, 2008; Bullock, 2007). The women managers’ narratives revealed that most had undergone a continuous process of deliberations, aware that their community expected them to alter their dress (Golnaraghi and Dye, 2012). The cultural, political and social context of Arab society, which includes their unique lifestyle, creates particular challenges for women and shapes their coping strategies (Arar and Shapira, 2013). Each of the women stressed in her own way the fact that their adoption of traditional dress was a personal decision. Prevalent community norms played a central part in the women’s decision to wear traditional dress, especially for those raised in traditional homes (Bhimji, 2009). Yet, another facet of social pressure is that advantages are given to those who conform to social norms. This allows the women to feel part of the community, empowered, protected, respected, meaningful and authoritative: ‘it only adds without subtracting anything’ (Ibtesam). To conclude, we learned more about the lives of these women through their stories, and we understood how a phenomenon that symbolizes the adoption of a traditional approach allows them to function better in a traditional society, as innovators in their professional domain (Arar and Shapira 2013). The transition to traditional dress legitimized the acceptance of women in leadership positions (Mahadevan, 2015); they attained support from the community. Their appearance strengthened recognition of their authority, gave them power and enabled them to work for farreaching changes in the institutions they lead (Sayed and Pio, 2010; Shah, 2010). This study contributes to the understanding of the power and role of culture in determining the identity of the principals and managers and their interaction in the school and outside it, determining whether they are considered to be outsiders or as people affiliated to and involved in the social and educational activities of the school they lead. The study calls for thoughtful observation of the complicated process presently negotiated by female Muslim school principals’ in the formation of 382 International Journal of Cross Cultural Management 16(3) their professional and personal identity. Understanding the implications of this process for discourse on the role of gender can perhaps further help us to comprehend processes of personal and cultural changes in different cultural, intercultural and global contexts. Declaration of Conflicting Interests The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. 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