If we take it off it's like stripping off our clothes
On the southern coast of Hainan island, a community of ten thousand people descended from Arabian Peninsula ancestors is discovering what it means to exist inside a state that cannot tolerate difference. China's recent ban on hijabs and long skirts for the Utsul Muslim minority — alongside restrictions on mosque size, Arabic script, and Islamic signage — is not a local administrative measure but a chapter in a longer story of cultural erasure that has already consumed over a million Uighur lives in Xinjiang. The question being posed, quietly and urgently, is whether a civilization can be legislated out of existence one garment, one word, one building at a time.
- A government directive targeting just two neighborhoods in Sanya has effectively made the visible practice of Utsul Muslim identity illegal in schools and public buildings.
- Girls in headscarves reading textbooks outside their school — surrounded by police — became the image that captured the collision between a community's survival and a state's will to erase it.
- The Utsul crackdown lands not in isolation but alongside the documented detention of over one million Uighurs in Xinjiang, where forced assimilation, sterilizations, and labor exploitation have been systematically recorded since 2016.
- Beijing insists its policies promote unity and security, but the consistency of the strategy across multiple Muslim minorities — Uighurs, Utsuls, Hui — reveals a deliberate architecture of cultural suppression.
- Small protests have already emerged, and the international community watches a pattern that researchers and rights groups are increasingly naming as a campaign to dissolve ethnic and religious identity under Communist Party control.
In the city of Sanya on Hainan island, a community of roughly ten thousand people — the Utsuls, Muslims whose ancestors arrived from the Arabian Peninsula centuries ago — has maintained its language, customs, and dress across generations. Last month, that continuity narrowed sharply when the Chinese Communist Party issued an order banning the hijab and long skirt from schools and government buildings in the two neighborhoods where most Utsuls live.
The directive went further than dress. New mosques would be required to be built smaller. Buildings with what officials called "Arabic tendencies" were prohibited. Arabic script was banned from shop fronts, and Mandarin characters for "halal" and "Islamic" were forbidden from public display. The effect was methodical: strip the visible markers of Utsul religious life from shared space.
A community worker explained why the hijab ban struck so differently for Utsuls than for other minorities. Other groups in Sanya simply do not wear traditional dress in daily life — so a rule applied equally to all still targeted one community uniquely. "If we take it off it's like stripping off our clothes," the worker said. Small protests followed. A photograph circulated showing girls in headscarves reading outside their primary school, encircled by police officers.
The Utsul restrictions are not an isolated policy but a visible extension of a much larger campaign. In Xinjiang, at least one million Uighur Muslims have been held in facilities Beijing calls reeducation centres since 2016. Detainees have been forced to sing propaganda songs, pledge loyalty to Xi Jinping, and submit to sterilizations and forced labor. Birth rates among Uighurs have fallen sharply. Researchers continue to identify new detention facilities under construction, even as the government claims those held have been released.
Across the Uighurs, the Utsuls, and the Hui — China's third-largest Muslim minority — the strategy is consistent: subordinate religion and culture to the Party, erase the expressions of identity that mark a people as distinct, and build a nation where no ethnic difference challenges state authority. The machinery is already in motion.
On the southern coast of Hainan island, in the city of Sanya, lives a community of roughly ten thousand people whose ancestors arrived centuries ago from the Arabian Peninsula. They are the Utsuls, predominantly Muslim, and they have maintained their own language, customs, and dress for generations. Last month, that way of life narrowed further when the Chinese Communist Party issued an order banning the hijab and long skirt—garments central to Utsul identity—from schools and government buildings across the two neighborhoods where most of them live.
The directive came in a document titled "Working Document regarding the strengthening of overall governance over Huixin and Huihui Neighbourhood," and it was only the beginning. The regulations also required new mosques to be built smaller than before, prohibited buildings with what officials vaguely termed "Arabic tendencies," banned Arabic script from shop fronts, and forbade the display of Mandarin characters for "halal" and "Islamic" on any premises. The effect was systematic: erase the visible markers of Utsul religious and cultural life from public space.
When a community worker spoke to reporters about the hijab ban, the weight of the restriction became clear. The official justification—that no ethnic minority could wear traditional garments in schools—rang hollow, the worker explained, because other minorities in Sanya simply do not wear traditional dress in daily life. For Utsuls, the hijab is not ornamental. "If we take it off it's like stripping off our clothes," the worker said. The distinction mattered enormously. A rule applied equally to all could still target one group uniquely.
Small protests erupted in the two neighborhoods last month. A photograph circulated on social media showing a group of girls in headscarves reading textbooks outside Tianya Utsul primary school, surrounded by police officers. The image captured the collision between a community's right to its own identity and a state determined to suppress it.
The Utsul crackdown is not an isolated incident but part of a much larger pattern. In Xinjiang, China's westernmost province, the government has detained at least one million Uighur Muslims and other ethnic minorities in hundreds of facilities officially called "reeducation centres" since 2016. Inside these camps, detainees have been subjected to forced assimilation: made to sing propaganda songs in exchange for food, compelled to recite praise for President Xi Jinping. Reports have documented forced sterilizations, child quotas, and forced abortions, resulting in a sharp decline in Uighur birth rates since 2017. Some detainees have been forced to work on production lines. Researchers have identified dozens of new suspected detention centers still under construction or expansion this year, despite Beijing's claims without evidence that those held have "graduated" and been released.
The Chinese government frames these policies as necessary and defensible, but the pattern across regions tells a different story. Whether in Xinjiang with the Uighurs, in Sanya with the Utsuls, or among the Hui—China's third-largest Muslim ethnic minority—the strategy is consistent: subordinate religion and culture to the Communist Party, erase the visible expressions of identity, and create a unified nation where ethnic distinctiveness poses no challenge to state authority. President Xi Jinping's vision of China requires the dissolution of these identities, and the machinery of the state is being deployed to make it happen.
Citas Notables
The hijab is an integral part of our culture; if we take it off it's like stripping off our clothes— Utsul community worker
The official line is that no ethnic minority can wear traditional garments on school grounds but other ethnic minorities don't wear traditional garments in their daily life— Utsul community worker
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a ban on traditional dress matter so much? It seems like a small thing compared to detention camps.
Because it's not small—it's the visible enforcement of invisibility. When you can't wear what marks you as yourself in public, you're being told your identity is shameful. And it works on children especially. They learn to hide.
But the government says the rule applies to all ethnic minorities equally.
That's the trap of the argument. Other groups in Sanya don't wear traditional dress daily, so the rule doesn't touch them. Only Utsuls are affected. Equal law, unequal impact—that's how you suppress a minority without saying you're suppressing it.
Is this new? Has China always done this?
The scale and coordination are new. What's happening now is systematic across multiple Muslim groups—Uighurs, Utsuls, Hui. It's not random persecution. It's a deliberate campaign to make religious and ethnic identity disappear from public life.
What happens to a community when they can't practice their culture openly?
It fractures. Children grow up ashamed of what their parents taught them. Language dies. Traditions become secret. The community survives, but hollowed out. That's the point.
And the international response?
Muted. The Uighur camps have drawn more attention because the scale is so vast—a million people. But the Utsuls, ten thousand people, barely register. Each group alone seems small enough to ignore.