“When I conceived The Red Chador between 2014-2015, I was primarily thinking about my mother, aunties, grandmother, grand aunties and cousins who when wearing their hijabs are joyful, loud, fierce and celebratory – not miserable and oppressed as media images depict hijabi women. The hijab for the women in my family is merely a cultural and religious extension of their faith and was never seen as objectifying nor submissive. Covering has always been a part of my upbringing but we were never forced to do it. Part of the question I ask in this work is why does the global perception of the Muslim woman lack joy and celebration? Why can’t pious Muslim women have some fun, color, sparkle and ‘fabulousness’ in their lives? Does Allah (God) care what color our chadors are? Do we have to wear only white or black, isn’t God colorblind anyways?” —Anida Yoeu Ali

Responding to the escalation of Islamophobia, misogyny, and racism, The Red Chador series is an ongoing body of work rooted in public performances and installations challenging our perceptions and fears of Muslims. Like The Buddhist Bug, the series continues Ali’s practice of using religious and cultural aesthetics to provoke notions around “otherness,” in this case by activating a custom sequin chador, an outer garment worn by some Muslim women that typically covers the head and body. Ali’s crimson version, sparkling radiantly, calls for the attention of anyone nearby and asks, “If you encounter The Red Chador, will you fear her or walk with her?”

An allegory for the hypervisibility of Muslim women, the series welcomes critical conversations about identity. Wearing the chador, Ali engages through silent interactions and in parallel to the political and cultural landscape of where she is present. In 2016, The Red Chador appeared in Washington D.C. over the Memorial Day holiday as a patriotic Muslim American. After the election of Donald Trump, she reappeared at Pike Place Market in an act of defiance and resistance, holding signs reading “Ban Me” and “I Am A Muslim,” a direct response to Trump’s bombastic discrimination.

The Red Chador was lost in transit in 2017 when traveling from Ramallah to Tel Aviv and back to the U.S. The artist commemorated the missing original garment with aceremonial death followed by a series of memorial services across three continents.

In 2019, an artist residency at the Shangri La Museum of Islamic Art, Culture, and Design in Honolulu gave Ali the creative opportunity to expand and reimagine The Red Chador series. Two years after its untimely disappearance, Ali rebirthed The Red Chador from the water, fire, earth and flora of Oahu. The Red Chador ceremoniously returned to the world, accompanied by The Rainbow Brigade, a joyful group of six additional heroines in brightly colored chadors who represent and reinforce the power of community. Each chadora is dressed in their own color of sequin chador and collectively creating a rainbow spectrum of colors.

Ali’s reappearance as The Red Chador silently addresses Islamic and artistic resilience and resistance in the face of great loss. The Red Chador is mythological, sacred, celebratory, fabulous, and, as the artist states, “alive and free, drifting across borders.”

To date The Red Chador has performed in 16 sites across 15 cities and spanning 7 countries.

—
Note from the artist: Clarifying her relationship to the chador, Anida Yoeu Ali notes, “As a Cham-Thai-Malay-Khmer Muslim, our chador is called thetelekung. Telekung is not a commonly recognized term in reference to this hijab covering, but it has always been part of my upbringing. They are special prayer garments that cover us completely except for our hands and face. They typically come in plain white cotton but can also be very embroidered. The women in my family use the simple white telekung for daily prayers with the more embellished ‘special’ sets reserved for congregational Jummah or Eid prayers. Mine was gifted to me as a teenager, one I cherish and will most likely pass on to my own daughters. I use chador as a word that easily identifies and signifies the imagery I am interrogating. Chador and burqa are words heavily mentioned in mainstream media and on an international scale. I started using chador in my spoken word poetry back in 2001 when I was addressing Islamophobia with poetry and specifically highlighting the plight of Muslim women.”