Arab Women on 8th March
This March 8th, I want to dedicate this day to my friends and sisters and, through them, to their deep roots and their rich and exuberant culture—one that, as a Spanish woman, I feel fortunate and privileged to carry within my own heritage.
The Arab world left a profound mark on the history of my country. When Muslim cultures reached the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century, what followed in Al-Andalus was not only a political transformation but also a remarkable flourishing of knowledge, art, and coexistence that would shape the intellectual life of Europe for centuries. Scholars such as Averroes, Avicenna, and Al-Zahrawi contributed enormously to philosophy, medicine, science, and literature. Their works travelled across languages and cultures, leaving a lasting imprint on European thought.
But the influence of Al-Andalus was not limited to scholarship. It also transformed daily life. The Arabs brought with them sophisticated irrigation systems that reshaped agriculture across the Iberian Peninsula: canals, wells, and acequias that allowed water to travel through dry lands and nourish orchards and gardens. They also introduced an entire culture of hygiene and urban refinement—public baths, perfumes, gardens, and fountains—an aesthetic and spiritual relationship with water that still echoes today in the courtyards of Andalusian houses and in monuments such as the Alhambra.
The encounter between cultures also gave rise to an extraordinary intellectual exchange. During the Middle Ages, the Toledo School of Translators became a bridge between civilizations, translating Arabic, Hebrew, and Greek texts into Latin and Castilian. Under the patronage of Alfonso X of Castile, known as Alfonso the Wise, scholars worked together to preserve and transmit stories, scientific treatises, and philosophical works. Among the texts that travelled through this cultural crossroads were classical Arabic tales such as Kalila and Dimna, part of a long storytelling tradition that would also resonate in the enchanting narratives of One Thousand and One Nights.
Even the Spanish language itself carries traces of this encounter. Hundreds of everyday words come from Arabic: acequia, almohada, azahar, ojalá—derived from the Arabic expression inshallah, “if God wills it.” These linguistic echoes remind us that cultures are never pure or isolated; they grow through encounter, exchange, and shared imagination.
Living in Brussels, I have had the chance to meet wonderful women from Algeria, Morocco, and Libya, and I have also travelled to Arab countries whose beauty and cultural richness have always fascinated me. It is difficult to imagine these lands without their mosques, their spirituality, their souks, their fabrics and garments—djellabas, scarves, and hijabs—elements that belong to a long and complex cultural tradition.
Like many cultural symbols, however, the veil has been interpreted in radically different ways throughout history. Patriarchal structures have often transformed it into a sign of control over women’s bodies, sometimes pushed to its most extreme form, the burqa. Yet paradoxically, the same patriarchal logic can also operate in the opposite direction—when institutions or governments impose the removal of the veil. In both cases, the body of women becomes the terrain where power seeks to assert itself.
Originally, the veil carried a much deeper and more sacred symbolism. Across ancient cultures, veils were associated with mystery, dignity, and the protection of what is intimate and powerful. In mythology and spiritual traditions, the veiled figure often represented the hidden dimension of the feminine: the mystery of life, creation, and transformation. Writers such as Clarissa Pinkola Estés have beautifully evoked this symbolism.
As she writes:
“The veil marks the difference between hiding and disguising. The symbol is about keeping private, to oneself. It is about preserving the Eros and mysterium of wild nature. It is related to the Goddess’ power.”
Seen in this light, the veil was never meant to erase women but to protect a sacred dimension of the feminine—something intimate, sovereign, and beyond possession.
Today, when debates about identity and culture often become polarized, remembering the depth and complexity of these traditions becomes even more important. The history of Al-Andalus reminds us that cultures grow richer when they meet, when they exchange knowledge, stories, and ways of understanding the world.
And for that reason, on this March 8th, I celebrate the women who carry these traditions, these memories, and these living cultures within them.