Dr Reva Gudi: There are reasons the burqa is a barrier to better community relations and it’s not discrimination to say so

Dr Reva Gudi is GP and healthcare leader in Hayes, Middlesex, she is also a former Conservative parliamentary candidate, and serves as a local school governor and charity trustee. 

Asifa has been a patient of mine for nearly two decades.

As her GP, I’ve seen her through illness, pregnancies and everyday worries. Ours is a warm, trusted relationship that I see as a privilege and am fortunate to have.  She often chooses to see me, sometimes alone, sometimes with her husband or children, and I believe she feels safe enough to speak freely.

And yet, for all our history, there are times when I feel I hardly know her at all – certainly not as well as she knows me.

It’s a strange thing to admit as a doctor.

When she wears her burqa – and by that I mean a full face veil – as she often does, I feel at a disadvantage. I cannot read her expression, interpret her body language, or sense her mood; subtle, non-verbal cues that are vital in any clinical consultation, the basic human interaction essential to understand how a person feels, beyond what they say.  In the limited time I have with each patient, I’m at times left wondering whether she truly felt heard and understood. I have known her since she was a child, and yet, behind the veil, she often feels like a stranger to me in ways that really do matter.

I do not see this as a minor inconvenience, but a reflection of a broader discomfort not with faith, but with the absence of the simplest yet most powerful human experiences: face-to-face connection. This disparity is at the heart of my concern. Not just as a doctor, but as a citizen and a woman.

The question of whether the burqa should be banned in Britain is a contentious one, and I understand why it stirs strong feelings. Currently there is no blanket ban on facial coverings, including the burqa or niqab, in public spaces. However, there are specific contexts, where face coverings can be restricted by law, or organisational policy. Currently wearing religious dress, including face coverings, is protected under Article 9 of the ECHR and the Equality Act 2010.

Notwithstanding all the above, I genuinely believe it is time to confront the issue of a ban, with honesty, courage and clarity. My position is not rooted in distrust or prejudice. It is based on the truth that human connection depends on visibility. And this becomes harder, sometimes impossible, when we are unable to see one another’s faces.

I say this at a time when communities are drifting apart, when cultural divisions are apparent, where the need to rediscover our shared identity living in Britain has never been greater. When we cover our face entirely, we lose the opportunity for genuine dialogue, mutual recognition and belonging, fostering separation not inclusion.  To address this, as a country, that would mean making choices in the wider interests of society.

For me this is about striking a balance. Wearing a hijab is also a way of expressing faith, allowing modesty as well as connection, giving women the chance to engage fully in public life.

There are those who wear the burqa by choice. But there are others who do so out of pressure, coercion, or fear of community judgement. No woman, Asifa included, should be placed in that position. Real freedom means living in society as one’s self, and not through layers of anonymity or pressure.

As a woman, I understand the instinct to resist being told what to wear and what not to wear, by anyone –  including governments. I also understand the discomfort of legislating on dress.  But with privileges come responsibilities. In a liberal democracy such as ours, that respects freedom of religion and expression, it is entirely reasonable to expect that those freedoms are exercised with a sense of duty that reinforce our shared civic life.

This is not just theory. Other liberal democracies have faced this dilemma and acted. France, Denmark and Germany have introduced national bans on face coverings, including the burqa to promote social cohesion, gender equality and public safety. These countries have weighed the legal arguments, including those surrounding freedoms of religion and upheld the bans as proportionate responses in defence of civic unity and democratic values.  They have demonstrated that it is possible to uphold liberal principles while also asserting shared norms. I believe it is time we follow suit.

But there is something else. The reality is as the evidence states; Muslim women who wear the burqa face higher levels of discrimination in the workplace, in education, in public settings and daily interactions.  This is not because they are less capable — but because the veil acts as a barrier to human connection. Whether it’s being passed over for a job, excluded from classroom discussion, or stared at in the supermarket, many women who wear the burqa are subjected to misunderstanding, suspicion, and social distance.

To address discrimination, improve understanding of one another, and promote tolerance, basic human interaction is essential, the very thing the burqa prevents.

Kemi Badenoch, the leader of the Conservative Party, in her recent Telegraph interview, has affirmed the right for employers to set reasonable dress codes, including restrictions on face coverings like the burqa, in the interests of workplace cohesion and safety. I commend her acknowledging the importance of this, but would argue however that leaving it to individual organisations, rather than legislating at a national level, will prove to be legally fragile, with organisations being exposed to the risk of legal challenge under the Equality Act.

As a result, many will simply not choose to act at all, out of fear, that will lead to inconsistencies in practice, uncertainty and paralysis. This helps none, least of all the women, who will be caught in the middle.

Kemi’s honest, unapologetic engagement on difficult subjects, one of which is tensions between individual expression and societal integration, is what I believe should guide the national conversation in modern Britain; a country that upholds liberal democratic values. The need for this has never been greater.

This is not about discrimination. It is about upholding the social contract that binds us together, and asking if we can truly live together, side by side, if we cannot even look one another in the face.

It’s time we had the courage to say: we live in Britain, and in Britain we look each other in the eye – not just to see but to be seen. And to be seen is to be acknowledged. That is how trust begins. That is how a society holds together.