No headscarf for Julie Bishop in Iran

Andrew Bolt:

A challenge I suspect Julie Bishop will accept:

A LEADING journalist and women’s rights advocate has called on Foreign Minister Julie Bishop to eschew wearing a headscarf when she travels to Iran in April.

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Political journalist Masih Alinejad said it would be “unacceptable” for Ms Bishop to don the compulsory hijab as it would reinforce the idea that Iranian women “live in a prison.”

I also believe Bishop should not submit to a faith she does not follow, unless she’s visiting a mosque. Then the normal rules of courtesy apply, particularly when it’s a condition of entry.

Mrs Bishop should not visit a mosque. We don’t insist that visiting Mohammedans are dragged to a church or to a synagogue either. Its time to show them what we’re made of.

2 thoughts on “No headscarf for Julie Bishop in Iran”

  1. Hello there……its me again………Don Laird…

    I wish I hadn’t seen all that I have seen while pushing back against Islam………..I will never be the same, many of us will never be the same.

    I wish I hadn’t heard all that I have heard while pushing back against Islam…….I will never be the same, many of us will never be the same.

    My sincerest is that all of our efforts, each and every one of us, all we have lost, all we’ve become that we now are……….that all of that, every single shining moment of time, every bead of sweat, every sleepless night, every hour of witness vigil, every friend and family that drifted away, every tirade toward the heavens…….every humble whispered thanks for providential grace in an hour of darkness…….that that, that all of that not be lost ‘neath the bootheel of ingratitude and indifference of the generations that will, as surely as the sun rises and sets, follow us.

    I am reminded of an opening paragraph of an essay I rattled out one day……..it was called “Traitors Among Us”

    “I am in the fight.

    I am in the midst of the manifest lunacy of a 7th century murdering psychopath.

    I am with privilege, the privilege of generals and politicians, the privilege of being out of range.

    I watch hundreds of videos. I watch as the collection of the blackest lies ever told is raised high and called “the word of Allah”. I watch as dusky hued barbarians and savages scream their bloodlust oath of allegiance to a murdering coward. I watch as they, craftsmen in the art of death, ply their trade in every corner of this earth. I watch the bullets stir the cranial contents of the terrified and the innocent. I watch as blistered, fevered lips whisper words of desperate last moment prayers to the God they are soon to meet. I watch as the throats are cut and the arterial spray glistens in the sunlight. I watch the terrified eyes glaze over, the head comes away from the body of the innocent victim. The suicide-vest; a political statement, an unsophisticated mechanism of leverage, the accoutrement of the lonely, the unloved, the dull-witted, the easily impressed, the barking mad, I watch as it detonates and in a blinding flash and shower of razor sharp glass and shrapnel, peace and quiet become chaos and death, multitudes borne away on rivers of blood and despair. I watch as tears of shame and anguish course down bruised cheeks, as nervous fingers fumble with handkerchiefs whilst those moments of agony, flooding back, torrential, tormenting, are relived once again, once again as the raped and the savaged tell their horrific stories of utter degradation, of humiliation and loss. I listen to the cries of orphans and widows as they beg us, beseech us not to turn away, not to abandon them, and I am moved. As my eyes fill with their anguish and my ears with their cries I can smell the blood, I nearly wretch and choke at the stench of the rotting flesh; I am with them. Yet I am impotent in the face of their need, in the face of their loss; my hypocrisy, my betrayal, my cowardice know no bounds. I stand on the edge of an abyss of madness, blackest despair my companion, my soul slowly slips away, all I have left is my pen and my paper. ‘

    -Traitors Among Us
    -Don Laird

    So tonight, as with some rare night, I have a little more than my pen and paper, just a little more, just enough.

    Tonight, I am thinking of all of you, each and every one of you and wishing, hoping, hope piled on hope that you can see the end of this fight, and if you can or if you can’t that you are filled with a sense of promise and of peace and an understanding that you are not alone and that not only are you not alone but you are part of a grand design.

    As for me………

    I am nibbling on dark chocolate filled with roasted almonds and cranberries and sipping a very delicious Canadian Imperial Stout…………

    And I am watching this……………

    So to each and every one of you………..a little chocolate, a little beer, a little understanding and a little peace.

    Regards, Don Laird
    Dogtown Bastard
    Alberta, Canada

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