“The first thing I think about when I arrive somewhere is that, because I wear the hijab, people know I’m Muslim, so my behaviour has to be absolutely impeccable.” Amira, who has just secured an internship at a recruitment agency in Lyon in central-east France, is barely in her twenties, but already Islamophobic oppression is deeply embedded in her daily life. “It’s always in the back of my mind,” says the young woman, before quickly making it clear that she “doesn't want to play the victim card”.
The young woman, who is passionate about Japanese culture, is taking a master’s degree in foreign and regional languages, literature and culture at Lyon 3 University. She is a member of EMF Lyon, the regional branch of the Muslim students of France association, which occasionally organises training sessions to support integration in the workplace. It was at one of these gatherings that Mediapart met her, along with about a dozen other participants who braved the cold on this Saturday afternoon in January to attend the session held at the Maison des Étudiants student union building in Lyon’s 7th arrondissement or district.
The group had just finished a two-hour workshop on “professional development” delivered by employment coach Rosa. It was an informal discussion focusing on their emotions and interactions in the workplace. “It feels good to be with people who understand me,” says Amira. In terms of entering the world of work, she explains that she has long “internalised” what she calls the “debate about the photo on the CV”. In other words, deciding whether or not to include an identity photo that shows she wears the hijab, or traditional Muslim headscarf.
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“I was helped by a Muslim HR professional who told me that if you’re certain the company is open to it, it’s better to include your photo, as it can be a small advantage. Otherwise no, because the hijab might scare them,” Amira says. She says she has made the decision to “only approach companies where I know I won’t be rejected because of it. Honestly, it would hurt me a lot. I might be used to it, but I’m still very sensitive.”
'Will I be accepted as I am?'
In France, the law allows the wearing of religious symbols or clothing in private companies. In 2021, the Court of Cassation – the land's highest appeal court - even ruled that dismissing a sales assistant at a clothes shop after she began wearing a hijab was discriminatory.
However, the reality is that Muslim women still face discrimination when it comes to getting a job. Fifteen years ago, a pioneer study revealed that their CVs were two-and-a-half times less likely to receive positive responses compared to those of individuals perceived to be white or Christian. By the end of 2024, the situation had actually worsened: new academic research has shown that wearing the hijab reduces the chances of being invited to a job interview in France by “more than 80%”.
This information does not surprise 'Yasmine' (not her real name). Behind her shy demeanour, the 21-year-old student, who identifies as being from the Maghreb region of North Africa, has a lot to say. Once she gets going, her words tumble out quickly, the cheerful tone of her voice a stark contrast to the harshness of the situations she describes.
“I was looking for a student job, and since I love children, I got in touch with a childcare company. That way, I could do something I enjoy while also being helpful to someone. Over the phone, everything was going well until I asked if the hijab was allowed. Then there was a pause,” she recalls. “After that, the person said, ‘If, by headscarf, it means your neck can be seen, then yes, otherwise, no.’”
Her eyes grow wider as she describes the episode. “I didn’t understand. I was so shocked I didn’t dare say anything. I hung up and never called back. But from that day on, I haven't wanted to call anyone else. It's really held me back,” Yasmine says.
If I speak out, it could backfire on me. Even though I’d be within my rights to respond!
“These are children - why would anyone want to make them think that women who wear a hijab are a problem?” wonders Yasmine, who began wearing the hijab during her final year at secondary school. She would remove it before entering the school grounds, even though that was “a bit tough”, she says.
Later, she came to the university to study foreign languages, and says she feels “more at liberty” to wear it here. But the thought of entering the workplace is an “enormous source of anxiety,” she admits. “I’m in my third year of undergraduate studies, and next year I’ll be starting my master’s. I need to think about internships. Will I be accepted as I am? Should I put my photo on my CV?”
“When I was little and not yet wearing the hijab, I imagined living my whole life in France,” she continues. “But today I have to ask myself the question, what if I’m not accepted as I am? There’s no way I’m taking it off at work. It’s part of who I am.”
Listening to these young women, one might almost forget that wearing the hijab is permitted in France. Recent statements by Bruno Retailleau do in fact make this hard to believe. Three weeks ago the minister of the interior made clear his views, declaring his intention to target women who wear the hijab; in particular, he favours a ban on students wearing one from entering universities.
Sometimes these young French women even find themselves doubting their own rights. “If I speak out, it could backfire on me,” says Yasmine. “Even though I’d be within my rights to respond! Peacefully, of course.”
Though this clarification at the end was not necessary, she added it anyway. Indeed, Muslim people in France have long learned to internalise the “politics of suspicion” that lingers in society, as academic Haoues Seniguer showed in his 2022 essay La République autoritaire. Islam de France et illusion républicaine 2015-2022 ('Authoritarian Republic: Islam in France and the Republican illusion', published by Le bord de l’eau).
Questions about 'origins'
In this small room at the Maison des Étudiants student building, it makes no difference who you speak to - everyone has a story. Even Kevin, who knows that with his name, he experiences less immediate discrimination when applying for jobs than others. The 25-year-old is already working but, after moving from Cannes in the south of France to Lyon two years ago, he takes part in the EMF association's activities in order to “meet other Muslims and make friends”.
In a gentle and calming voice - a strength for his profile as a “mediator”, according to employment coach Rosa - he recalls: “During an interview, someone once asked me, ‘But tell me, don’t you have Mediterranean origins?’ Then they added, ‘I’ve got nothing against Arabs; my accountant’s name is Myriam!’ It’s true, this happens.”
Kevin previously worked as a recruitment consultant for a pharmaceutical company. “There was a lot of racism,” he recalls. “I was responsible for recruiting interns and apprentices across all fields - administrative, commercial, scientific. During Zoom interviews, several managers told me, ‘I’ll be blunt, I don’t want foreigners. There are too many Arab CVs.’”
In September, racist and Islamophobic graffiti appeared on the walls of Lyon 3 University. “When you read ‘Islam out,’ it’s bound to directly affect Muslim students. This isn't an environment where these students can thrive peacefully,” regrets Edin Mahmuti, president of EMF Lyon. “Yet we mustn’t self-censor - we've got nothing to be ashamed about. We’re here for all students. We’re Muslims; it’s in the name. There’s nothing illegal about that.”
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- The original French version of this article can be found here.
English version by Michael Streeter