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The Psychology of Concealment: Testing the Boundaries of Reality

In the previous two episodes of my Becoming Açelya series on YouTube, I discussed the nun-like aesthetics I’ve been exploring. This blog post delves into the psychological effects of garments such as the chador and niqab—which I briefly mentioned in Chapter 4—and shares some raw, personal confessions.

I was genuinely curious about why women feel the need to conceal themselves and what it truly feels like to wear these garments. So, last week, I bought a chador and experienced it firsthand. This wasn’t just about trying on a new style; it was about testing the boundaries of reality through a “mask of identity.”

I don’t recall experiencing anything more bizarre in my life. First of all, it is incredibly hot—so much so that I genuinely find it difficult to understand how women endure it, especially in the summer. I commend them. This physical agony is not merely a clothing preference; it is a concession made to erase the female body from public space. The sensory deprivation and the suffocating heat create a psychological barrier that cuts the individual off from the outside world, trapping them within themselves.

In the region where I was born, the greatest challenge women face is the forced imposition of covering; particularly in Afghanistan and Pakistan, women are compelled to wear the chador and even the burqa. Consequently, empathizing with them was both a profound and heartbreaking experience for me. The core issue here is not the garment itself, but agency—the stripping away of the right to choose. In sociology, the concept of “individual autonomy” vanishes the moment a person is denied the right to decide how to present their own body.

The Middle East’s Regime of Invisibility: A Geography of “Ownership”

The Middle East is a geography of totalitarian patriarchy, where even a woman’s breath is subject to “male permission.” It is not just the countries, cities, or hospitals that are managed by men; it is the female body, mind, dreams, and even silence that they dictate. Here, women are not “individuals”; they are inventory that reinforces male social status—ornaments when needed, servants when required, or silenced under the guise of “honor” when deemed necessary. The term “second-class” is far too gentle; the reality here is total enslavement. Women are objects whose property rights are revoked, existing solely for male satisfaction and service, then “rendered invisible” and shelved once used.

The most nauseating truth is the pathological mechanism of pleasure men build upon this “invisibility.” It is not difficult to understand that the chador or niqab is used not to protect women, but to sanctify the “mystery” that men “possess.” When sexual gratification occurs—when the idea that the body under that pitch-black fabric is strictly male “private property”—this image transforms into a fetish object. In the eyes of the man, the woman becomes a “desirable” commodity only when she is entirely erased—when her identity, face, and voice are destroyed.

Yet, when that moment of pleasure dissipates, the “human” under that costume looks into the mirror and sees a fragmented stranger, unable to recognize their own self.

This paradox can be explained by Erving Goffman’s “Presentation of Self.” When clothing is perceived as a “stage costume” under this male hegemony—that is, when the woman’s absence feeds male power—it gains “pleasurable” status. However, when the costume is removed or when the woman returns to daily life, what remains of her self is merely a feeling of “absence.” Sociologically, this is the “dispossession” of the self by the system and the alienation of the individual from their own body.

The Ambivalent State and the Pain of Identity: Being an “Invisible Subject”

If I were a woman, would I be a woman in a chador? I still cannot answer this, but I know that eventually, I would feel my own existence fading away, which would cause me deep unrest. In the dresses I wear in daily life—the smoothness of satin against my skin, the elegance of lace, and the aesthetic forms of the 1950s—I feel myself “living” and “expressing.” Those dresses are reflections of my sexual energy, my womanhood, and my love for the world.

However, the chador swallows all of this colorful and vibrant expression at once. To truly understand, one must live as a “woman” constantly, and within this garment, I struggle to find that “vivid” part of my womanhood. I need to ponder this deeply to unravel that strange feeling inside me. Assuming I am currently in a hormonally imbalanced state, perhaps this makes my emotions sharper and more fragile. This ambivalence is actually a conflict: I want to feel feminine, yes; but for me, this femininity is not a form of “concealment,” but a form of “display” and “existence.”

When I enter the chador, I do feel the intensity of feminine energy, but it is not a life-filled energy—it is sad and turned inward. I feel completely disconnected from life; I am in a different place than the bustling life on the street, as if I am inside a glass bell jar or a room isolated from reality.

Living Like a Ghost

My movements are not comfortable. Whether sitting, eating, or drinking, the weight and restriction of that fabric feel like a command, whispering, “You must protect yourself, you must not be seen by anyone.” This prevents one from living normally, laughing, or even sitting comfortably in a cafe. It is as if someone is watching me, and I am reduced to nothing more than a “figure.”

In real life, people’s gazes—those looks where you cannot tell if they are merciful, judgmental, or merely curious—weigh heavily upon you. Those gazes strip you of being “Açelya” and reduce you to the category of “that covered woman.” It is a bizarre feeling; it is as if my true self is slowly fading beneath these black fabrics. Yet, my self deserves color, light, texture, and to be seen. Right now, within this garment, I have a body, but I feel the bridges my soul built with the outside world crumbling one by one. Being a woman is not about disconnecting from the world, but holding onto it more tightly. This experience has bitterly shown me how precious my freedom is—and how a fabric can be a “shield” just as easily as it can become a “prison.”

The Thin Line Between Oppression and Choice

If I had been born as a woman in an underdeveloped country (which, in fact, I was :D) and my family had been conservative, this would have turned into oppression. Because my family would have made me wear this at a young age, and I would have had no choice.

But let’s assume this was entirely my choice. If I were born in a modern country and wanted to wear a chador as a woman, I think that might feel okay because I wouldn’t have been born under the pressure of forced womanhood. (Here, ‘freedom of choice’ comes into play; psychological research proves that whether a restriction is an ‘imposition’ or an ‘individual preference’ entirely changes its impact on a person’s mental health.) I would not have been someone forced to wear a chador or niqab as a six-year-old girl, and thus, I would have grown up with a healthy mind.

However, to be honest, despite everything—even in that modern, free world where no one interferes with me—I know I would not make this choice. Why? Because it would feel like betraying the desire for ‘vitality’ within me.

When I go under a chador or niqab, I do not just experience bodily covering; I build an insurmountable wall between myself and the world. As a modern, free individual, my clothing choices are an extension of my connection with the world, my character, and my aesthetic understanding. I am someone who loves the coolness of satin on my skin, the intricate texture of lace, and the psychological impact of colors. These are not just fashion; they are the language of my ‘existence.’ When I take on the monotonous, dark, and heavy form of the chador, I feel trapped in a void. It is as if the world is flowing by, people are laughing, the wind is blowing, but I am isolated from all of it—turning into an ‘invisible’ and ‘inaudible’ being.

Even with my own free will, filtering life so intensely—pushing away the sun, the texture, and the most fundamental human freedom of being ‘visible’—is against my nature. If I had grown up with a healthy mind, without being pressured, I would have dressed not to hide myself, but to ‘display’ myself, to ‘express’ myself, and to ‘live’ more.

Because the niqab and chador are, ultimately, a state of ‘erasure.’ Yes, perhaps they are a protective shield for some; but for me, life is not about waiting in a sheltered castle; it is about scaling the walls of that castle, feeling the wind on my face, looking into people’s eyes, and saying, “I am here, I am alive, and this is my world.” Therefore, even if the choice were entirely mine, I would choose not to go behind that dark veil, but to exist under the light, with all my colors, with all my textures. Because life is too short for humans to hide themselves, rather than discover themselves.

On the Niqab: Communication and Security Boundaries

Frankly, I see no problem in showing respect, even though they believe—according to their faith—that trans people deserve to die… Anyway, as long as we do not touch one another, there is no issue. However, unlike the chador, I believe the niqab builds a “wall” that completely alienates the individual from life. Here are 10 reasons why I cannot view living with a niqab as a “logical choice” in modern society:

1. Loss of Micro-expressions and Communication Breakdown: The fundamental way to build trust in communication psychology is through facial micro-expressions. We understand if a person is smiling, surprised, or lying through their face. Covering the face completely pushes the individual into a state of “social invisibility” by closing off empathy channels.
2. De-identification and Anonymity: The niqab transforms the individual from a “person” into a “uniform silhouette.” People do not engage with you; they engage with the fabric you wear. This means the erasure of the individual’s unique identity, character, and presence.
3. Security and Undetectability: The face being hidden is a major paradox for modern social security. When it is unknown who is who in the public sphere, it becomes very easy for those committing crimes to hide themselves. This undermines the “social contract of trust” that society holds for one another.
4. Professional Life and Business: The modern economy is based on face-to-face communication and trust. It is practically impossible for someone hiding their face to hold a presence in a professional environment while interacting with clients, colleagues, or patients. This garment pushes the individual outside the economic system.
5. Psychological Isolation (Sensory Deprivation): Constantly viewing the world from behind a fabric sharpens the distinction between “me and the world” in one’s mind. Over time, this physical barrier leads to a mental separation and a feeling of being “completely disconnected from the world,” resulting in social isolation.
6. The Biological and Psychological Need for a “Face”: Humans are biologically programmed to recognize faces. Not being able to see someone’s face triggers a natural feeling of suspicion and unease in the human brain. This is a form of rejection that occurs outside of you and is entirely related to human nature.
7. Physical Health and Climatic Incompatibility: The fabric structure of the niqab brings about physical health issues such as respiratory difficulties, skin problems, and vitamin D deficiency from lack of sunlight during long-term use. The human body is not designed to stay in such a heavy and enclosed form for 24 hours.
8. Restrictions on Movement and Perception: The niqab narrows your field of vision. While eating, drinking, or crossing the street in traffic, the limitations of that fabric can create life-threatening risks. When your movements are restricted, your self-confidence drops in parallel.
9. Social Stigma: No matter how much you call it a “choice,” the niqab carries a heavy package of prejudice in the modern world. When people approach you, they are often afraid or uncomfortable with the ideology the garment represents rather than who you actually are. Fighting this prejudice every day is a form of mental exhaustion.
10. Incompatibility with the Pace of Modern Life: Modern life requires quick decision-making, instant reactions, and being dynamic. The niqab slows the individual down, makes them cumbersome, and pulls them into a position as a “passive observer” to the outside world. Instead of participating in the flow of life, you are forced to watch it from behind a veil.

I apologize to those who wear the niqab by choice, but these are my genuine thoughts. I write exactly what is on my mind because I fully believe in freedom of expression; please be brave on this topic as well.

Theoretical and Scientific Framework

The following fundamental psychological and sociological concepts explain the fluctuations and observations I experienced during this experiment:

• Enclothed Cognition: Developed by Hajo Adam and Adam Galinsky (2012), this theory argues that the clothes we wear affect not only the outside world but our own cognitive processes and mental states. When we wear a garment, we internalize its symbolic meaning. The feeling of “alienation” and “protection” I felt during my chador experiment is a direct reflection of this theory.
• The Presentation of Self: Sociologist Erving Goffman (1956) defines social interactions as a “stage performance.” Clothes are the costumes we use on this stage. While the chador functions as a costume of “mystery” in a sexual context, the feeling of emptiness that arises when you remove this costume in the “backstage” of daily life aligns with Goffman’s theory on the distinction between costume and self.
• Sensory Deprivation and Social Isolation: Covering the face (as in the niqab example) prevents the reading of “micro-expressions,” which are vital in communication psychology. This blocks empathy channels and causes the individual to disconnect from social interaction, leading to “social isolation.”
• Agency: Self-Determination Theory in psychology emphasizes that the need to make one’s own choices is a fundamental psychological need. The difference between the imposition of a garment (the Afghanistan/Pakistan example) and an individual choice is decisive for one’s mental health. Imposition creates psychological “alienation” by shifting the person from the position of subject to object.
• Social Isolation and Cognitive Dissonance: The feeling of a “wall” created by the niqab leads the individual into a state of cognitive dissonance, being trapped between social norms and their own self. Even if the person wants to communicate with society, the garment hinders this, causing a constant internal conflict.
• Human Biology and Face Recognition (Pareidolia): The human brain is programmed to recognize faces (the Fusiform Face Area – FFA). The face being invisible triggers biological distrust (an amygdala response) in the observer; this is why people often feel an unconscious anxiety toward someone in a niqab.
• Agency and Objectification: Feminist theorists have focused heavily on the “possession” or “concealment” of the female body in the public sphere. The niqab objectifies the individual, stripping them of their status as a subject (a decision-maker) and destroying their social visibility.