Iranian women defy hardline push to enforce hijab amid economic crisis

The question of how strictly Iran should enforce the hijab has surfaced again, this time amid the noise of war and a reshuffled hardline government. For months during the conflict with the United States, the rule seemed to slip. Women without headscarves appeared at pro-government rallies and in state media without apparent consequence. The authorities had other fires to put out. But in recent weeks, conservative clerics and politicians have begun pressing hard again, calling for a return to what they term strict enforcement of "public modesty."

The regime's response has been uneven. Authorities have closed cafes and restaurants in Tehran and other cities—at least seven in the capital alone on a single day in July—for failing to police their customers' clothing. The South Khorasan Province shut down ten establishments on similar grounds. State media has amplified these enforcement actions, and the Tehran Prosecutor's office announced it would pursue cases of alleged "indecency" at businesses and shops selling what officials deem inappropriate garments. Yet despite this pressure, many Iranian women are openly defying the rules, and the government seems hesitant to mount a full crackdown. The regime has larger preoccupations: managing the fallout from conflict, wrestling with economic collapse, and reorganizing its security apparatus under new leadership.

The defiance is visible and organized. Young women have posted videos on social media showing themselves riding motorcycles without headscarves through Tehran, Isfahan, and Shiraz. One Instagram account celebrated what it called the largest female motorcycle event in Isfahan, featuring about twenty riders. These are not isolated incidents but coordinated acts of resistance, broadcast to thousands. The government has yet to deliver on its promise to issue motorcycle licenses to women, a fact that adds another layer of irony to the videos.

The crackdown, where it occurs, carries real weight. In June, the popular singer Parastoo Ahmadi and eight members of her band and production team were sentenced to seventy-four lashes and banned from leaving the country for two years. Her offense: appearing with bare shoulders and uncovered hair during a livestreamed event on YouTube in 2024. The charges cited "offending public decency through the production and publication of vulgar and immoral content." Hardline officials have stepped up their rhetoric. One Friday prayer leader in Tehran claimed there are organized efforts to promote "nudity" and that some people are paid to appear improperly dressed. A television program produced for the Tehran Municipality has devoted episodes to the subject, warning against "unconventional behaviors" in public spaces. The journal Kayhan's editor wrote that enforcement is both a legal obligation and a religious duty.

Yet resistance to this push comes from unexpected quarters. President Masoud Pezeshkian, in remarks about an interview with a conservative cleric, questioned whether laws could actually change behavior. "The cleric mentioned hijab," he said. "Well, there are neighborhoods, there are mosques—go and work on it there! Can you really change people's behavior through laws?" He added that his own daughter sometimes disagreed with him, and he did not force her compliance. A former member of parliament argued that officials should focus on inflation and people's livelihoods instead of the hijab. An unofficial media outlet published an article asking what lay behind "the return of hijab patrols and business closures" in a war-weary public.

The legal framework for enforcement exists but remains vague. Article 638 of Iran's Islamic Penal Code criminalizes appearing in public without "Islamic hijab," though it does not define the term precisely. A much stricter law approved in 2024 would have created a system of escalating penalties and surveillance, but its implementation was halted after intervention by the Supreme National Security Council—a move that has infuriated hardliners. One parliament member this week warned that "Israel and America cannot destroy us, but this decay that has plagued our religious culture and is spreading nudity in a disastrous and widespread manner in society will."

This struggle echoes an earlier moment. Four years ago, the death of Mahsa Amini in police custody—she had been detained for allegedly wearing her hijab improperly—sparked the "Woman Life Freedom" protest movement. The government suppressed it brutally. Amnesty International reported at the end of 2024 that Iranian authorities were waging war on women and girls through an increasingly violent crackdown on those defying the compulsory veiling laws. Yet the protests left a mark. Despite warnings and sporadic enforcement, widespread defiance persists, especially among young women.

A woman in her sixties in Tehran, speaking by phone to a reporter, captured the uncertainty: "They still don't dare say anything to people on the street. Girls in Tehran are out and about wearing crop tops, shorts, and all kinds of clothes, and headscarves are practically no longer a thing. I don't think they can make these girls wear headscarves again." But she paused. "But then again, that's also what we thought when the revolution happened. We never thought they would be able to force us to wear them, but in the end, they did." The outcome remains unwritten.