Wrapped up in politics

Junior Benjy Spiro is well aware - in fact, personally aware - of Middle East conflict.

Two students from his Paramus, N.J., high school were killed in a suicide bombing in Israel. The father of one of his camp counselors was shot and killed by a terrorist there. On one of his 20 trips to Israel, a bomb exploded at a Sbarro restaurant, killing a family of five that included a family friend's sister.

So when he accepted his friends' dare to go through U.S. Customs on his latest return from Israel wearing a keffiyeh - a traditional Arab headdress that's become both a symbol of Palestinian support for some and casual hipster neckwear to others - the 20-year-old had an idea of the trouble his wardrobe could cause him. It could have been taken as a mere scarf, but likely, in a country heavily involved in its own Middle Eastern conflict, its heavy connotation would blur the thin line between fashion and politic.

Spiro is one of a growing number of young people who wear the increasingly popular clothing item that sparked a national debate when clothier Urban Outfitters began selling keffiyehs as "anti-war woven scarves" on its U.S. website. It sold in various colors for $20, and proved popular among certain strata, but the outcry from those unpleased with the company's decision to "turn controversy into money" forced the store to drop the item on Jan. 16.

The 95-store national chain apologized, in a message briefly posted on its site. It read: "Due to the sensitive nature of this item, we will no longer offer it for sale. We apologize if we offended anyone, this was by no means our intention."

When Spiro, an American studies major, arrived at the Philadelphia International Airport, it was as easy as black and white to customs officials. They fired hundreds of personal questions at Spiro, who, aside from the red-and-white keffiyeh, donned standard fashions that day: a blazer, a button-down shirt, a pair of jeans and sneakers.

"What were you doing in Israel? Why were you there? What were you studying? Are you Islamic?" officials pried. "If there was a war against your country and America, where would your allegiance reside?"

Spiro deadpanned: "I'm a proud American."

That day he experienced the symbolic power of American fashion's newest Che Guevara T-shirt: a fringy, tasseled, chain-linked scarf, frequently crumpled around the necks of apolitical youngsters and political sympathizers alike, equally capable of functioning as the latest accessory at edgy Western boutiques and the spark of clothing controversy.

Hundreds of bloggers and Internet activists responded critically and nearly instantly when Urban Outfitters decided to sell the scarves. Ariel Zellman, a doctorate student at Northwestern University, organized the Facebook group "Boycott Urban Outfitters." Like several others in the Jewish community, Zellman took offense with the name of the scarf, which he said contradicted the connotation the keffiyeh has taken in American culture.

"The symbol of wearing a keffiyeh is identifying with a certain set of popular ideologies," Zellman said. "If a keffiyeh has a symbolic burden here in West, it's a burden of being identified with terrorism and indiscriminate violence against civilians. And while I certainly sympathize with people that say, 'This isn't a symbol of terrorism,' that's the meaning that's become associated with it."

Other offended parties took a more dramatic route. A Facebook group called "Jews - STOP WEARING KEFFIYEHS!" called the scarf "a TERROR statement." Zellman's wife Leora posted on her blog last month pictures of terrorists wearing "anti-Semite" keffiyehs with biting captions like "Scarf in support of democracy" and "Anti-war scarf Hitler salute." She was joined in similar gestures by Jewschool.com, a blog aimed at younger members of the Jewish faith.

The offended parties have not just been Jewish, however. Arabs have taken issue with the chain's decision to trivialize a symbol that's been a defining one for a culture through turbulent chapters of history.

KABOBfest, an online forum for Arab-Americans, in January posted:

"With a great deal of discomfort and a tad bit of pissed-off-ness, I regret to (re)inform the KABOB-o-sphere that Palestine has officially become a trend ... That's right folks, for a mere $20.00 (or 75.0127 Saudi Riyal) you too can jump on the socially stupid hipster-doofus bandwagon by rocking your very own "Anti-War Woven Scarf!" (available only at Urban Outfitters ... or ... err ... uh ... the Middle East)."

The keffiyeh originated as the headdress of Palestinian peasants and evolved into both a sign of Palestinian nationalism and a symbol of class conflict after the British invasion in the late thirties. It came to a second height in the 1960s when Arafat made it a trademark of the Palestinian resistance movement.

Today, various colored keffiyehs have taken on different connotations: The red-and-white keffiyeh is often associated with Hamas; the black-and-white with Fatah. In America and Britain people wear the keffiyeh around their neck as both a sign of Palestinian camaraderie and as a relatively cheap, swanky accessory.

Despite the uproar, keffiyehs are on the streets of the nation's biggest cities - even in Urban Outfitters stores, still.

Justin John, a manager at the Urban Outfitters in Chinatown, sometimes wears his red keffiyeh, which he purchased from the chain before it stopped selling them. Customers, John argued, simply overreacted to a name that wasn't meant to be offensive.

"People didn't understand," John said. "We were trying to bring knowledge to certain issues, and for them to complain and say that kind of stuff was close-minded."

University students' reasons for wearing the keffiyeh run the gamut. Rayyan Ghuma, a junior criminology and criminal justice major, has worn a keffiyeh for about six years as a pro-Palestine symbol.

"I wear it for political reasons," Ghuma said. "As a symbol of resistance against oppression and that I stand in solidarity with the people of Iran and Palestine."

Meg Levine, a senior history major, does not own a keffiyeh but plans to buy it for functional reasons. She found unimportant the political implications of the scarf.

It was simple to her: "I borrowed one from a friend in class, and it made me so warm."

Contact reporter Raquel Christie at christiedbk@gmail.com.