The Mark of Repression

Earlier this week, a friend and I were driving down a main street here in Toronto when we saw a sight that raised the hackles on both of us. What we saw was a mother walking along the sidewalk, pushing a stroller with an infant in it. Skipping along beside her was a little girl, perhaps five or six years old. The girl was smiling as she danced along beside her mother. Her long hair was tied back at the nape of her neck and her shorts and t-shirt were a bright pink that provided a stark contrast to her mother's attire. The woman pushing her little one was clad from head to foot in black. The robe trailed down over the hands propelling the stroller along. Her feet were only half visible when she took a step and the robe moved with her momentum. Even her face was completely covered. Looking at her as she made her way past us, we both tried to make out the slit in front of her eyes. That was all there could have been for her to view the world through, because we could not distinguish any break in the sombre fabric.
Although we did not actually see a face, we still know it was a woman. No man is ever compelled to cover himself in such a fashion. Watching her pass as we waited for the light to change gave us both pause for thought. We commiserated with the little girl skipping her way along beside her oppressed mother. The little one is blissfully ignorant of the darkness waiting to prey on her. In all likelihood, that darkness will engulf her with the onset of menarche, when she is forced to disappear under a burka of her own.
We also bristled at what that woman represented. She is walking proof that those who wish to spread intolerance and the misogynistic oppression of women are here in our country. If they bring their poison here, who can say they will not spread it?
I feel sorrow for my sister, trapped under the burka, held down under the thumb of some egotistical woman-hater who would be happy, I am sure, to see all the women of Toronto thus imprisoned in burkas. I feel antagonism toward those who have placed her under that veil.
When will such oppression cease to exist? When will it be yanked out from under its sanctimonious cover-up of piety and seen as the abusive repression it truly is? When will my sisters throw away their burkas and step out into the sunlight?