Quebec Mother's Volunteer Work Blocked by Hijab Ban in Schools
Aisha Khan is a dedicated occupational therapist who was born and raised in Quebec, where she has built her life, career, and family. As a healthcare professional, she helps individuals regain independence after hardships, focusing on physical and cognitive rebuilding. Her work reflects her deepest values of service and compassion, making a tangible impact in people's lives every day.
Volunteering as a Core Part of Identity
Beyond her busy schedule, Khan has always made time to give back to her community. Several years ago, she began volunteering at her children's school, participating in bake sales, organizing movie nights, and preparing food for staff on special occasions. Initially, she volunteered to be present for her children, who loved seeing their mother at school and sharing moments with friends and teachers.
"Very quickly, I saw the difference I could make for other children, not just my own," Khan explains. "I saw how a little support could uplift the hardworking staff who dedicate themselves daily. Volunteering became part of who I am—it's how I give back and help build the future generation of our country."
The Impact of Bill 94 on Muslim Mothers
Now, Khan faces exclusion from this vital role. Under Quebec's Bill 94, adopted by the Coalition Avenir Quebec government in October 2025, mothers who wear headscarves are prevented from volunteering in their children's schools. Unless they remove their hijabs, they are barred from contributing to classrooms and school events.
"I'm being told because I'm a Muslim who wears a headscarf, I'm no longer welcome," Khan states. "My volunteer work is no longer acceptable unless I change how I look. This law treats my headscarf—which has never interfered with my work, integrity, or commitment—as something children need protection from."
Questioning the Logic Behind the Law
As a healthcare professional, Khan emphasizes that her faith has never interfered with her practice. She has always been judged on her competence and ethics, not her appearance. However, the Quebec government now views her hijab as a barrier to community involvement.
"I've tried to understand how removing dedicated, well-intentioned volunteers makes our public education system stronger," she says. "I still cannot understand it. Because there's nothing to understand."
When Khan learned she could no longer volunteer, she felt deeply hurt and rejected. "To have your willingness to help turned into something unwelcome—by the very government that is supposed to represent and protect you—is profoundly painful," she describes. She worries about the broader impact, noting that laws like this plant seeds of prejudice and discrimination, teaching children that not everyone is treated equally.
Fears for the Future and the Meaning of Secularism
Khan expresses concern about what might come next. "If I can be barred from volunteering at my own children's school, what guarantees do I have that tomorrow my profession won't be questioned too?" she asks. Seeing women whose dreams of becoming teachers, lawyers, or educators have been shut down by legislation, she wonders where this exclusion will end.
She clarifies her stance on secularism, a value she supports in Quebec. "We do not send our children to public school to receive religious instruction," Khan asserts. "But preventing mothers from volunteering at their children's schools—that is not secularism; it is outright exclusion. Creating fear that children might be threatened by a mother simply practising her religion is both illogical and harmful—it sows division instead of fostering cohesion."
Khan's story highlights the personal and community-wide repercussions of Bill 94, raising critical questions about equality, inclusion, and the true meaning of secularism in Quebec society.
