A couple of years back, when English Muslim teenager Shabina Begum won the legal right to wear a jiljab -- a gown that covers everything except part of the face -- to school, an almost mind-boggling irony reigned over the proceedings. Having lost her case at the High Court, Begum went to the Court of Appeal, where judges agreed that her school's prohibition of the jiljab was in contravention of the Human Rights Act, a piece of British legislation protecting citizens' rights as set out in the European Convention on Human Rights. It didn't seem to cross her mind that the ECHR to which she took recourse enshrines many principles directly contrary both to the sharia law she was hell-bent (if you'll pardon the pun) on obeying, and to the tenets of Hizb-ut-Tahrir, the pan-Islamist group -- banned in Germany, Russia and much of the Middle East -- that backed her case, and that claims her older brother as a member. The then-16-year-old, an orphan, said with an entirely straight face: "It is amazing that in the so-called free world I have to fight to wear this attire."
This strange logic (permit me the freedom to symbolize my own oppression!) has just been revisited in the south of England, where another schoolgirl was pushed into the spotlight in order to promote the religious chastity of women, again under dire threat from a pesky educational institution. And again, the High Court has sided with the school.
Sixteen-year-old Lydia Playfoot had been threatened with school expulsion unless she removed a silver "purity ring," worn in a show of commitment to celibacy outside of marriage. It's not quite clear how a piece of jewelry helps a young girl remain a virgin -- perhaps its biblical inscription, translated as "God wants you to be holy, so you should keep clear of all sexual sin," serves as a reminder ("What's that Darren? You want to indulge in some sexual sinning? Sure! Oh, wait, no, my ring says God wants me to be holy, sorry!") -- but Playfoot asserted that the ring constitutes a fundamental expression of her religious beliefs. Judge Supperstone disagreed, ruling that a chastity ring was not an essential part of Christian faith. Playfoot, who said she was "disappointed," hasn't yet decided whether or not she'll appeal, but in a pleasing bit of synchronicity -- or perhaps it's an overt hint from the Almighty -- 14 U.S. states have recently dropped abstinence-only sex education.
Of course, Playfoot didn't come by her faith spontaneously: her father is a Christian minister and both her parents are financially involved in the UK arm of Silver Ring Thing. The movement, launched in America in 1995, preaches abstinence outside of marriage and is closely associated with Leslee Unruh, the maniacal pro-lifer whose organization Abstinence Clearinghouse organizes "purity balls" where girls -- often pre-teens and sometimes as young as four -- pledge their purity (hold on to your breakfast) to their fathers until (it gets worse): "the day I give myself as a wedding gift to my husband."
So, while Playfoot might believe in what she's doing -- and judging by her forthright and sincere speeches, she does -- she's just as much a pawn as Shabina Begum. The latter's high-profile cause publicized Hizb-ut-Tahrir and its aim of creating a one-nation Muslim state among Britons; Playfoot's case promoted Silver Ring Thing, whose UK branch is a for-profit company that sells to young people abstinence courses involving books, DVDs and, of course, silver rings.
A money-making campaign to deter horny adolescents from hooking up is not, on the face of it, as sinister as an anti-democratic, anti-Israel, pro-gender-segregation political party. But Silver Ring Thing and its ilk are far from harmless happy clappies: according to the National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent Health, teens who "pledge" under pressure from abstinence promoters have higher levels of STDs due to unsafe sex. A case in point is Texas, where state law requires that sex education emphasizes abstinence: as well as harboring a teenage chlamydia epidemic, the Lone Star state has just achieved the dubious honor of topping the nation's statistics for teen pregnancy. Perhaps the only way Lydia Playfoot's silver ring will save her from the same fate is if it's connected up to a sensor in her underwear that, Lindsay Lohan-alcohol-anklet-style, alerts a "purity sponsor" to any unchaste activity. Actually, that's probably not something to joke about.
Posted August 24, 2007 | 12:09 PM (EST)