Still, the court ruled otherwise, stating the federation was entitled to putting the ban in place “in order to guarantee the proper functioning of public services and the protection of the rights and freedoms of others.”
The ruling went further, saying that not only neutrality but the smooth running of matches, without confrontations and clashes, was at stake.
In France, many in the mainstream see the Islamic head scarf, at best, as an archaic symbol of women’s oppression, and at worst a sign of failed integration and religious radicalism. Just the sight of a hijab can raise tensions.
The country’s interior minister, Gérald Darmanin, who has led the government’s fight to root out Islamic establishments deemed “separatist” across the country, told a French radio station last week that if female soccer players were permitted to wear a hijab, it would be a “very important blow” to the French “Republican contract.”
“When you play soccer,” Mr. Darmanin said, “you shouldn’t have to know the religion of your opponents.”
Ms. Diakité, who now plays with fellow members of Les Hijabeuses only for fun, surmised the ruling was based on political ideology and not fact. If the court had come to speak to the players and club managers in the suburbs, she said, it would have learned that there has never been violence on the soccer pitch because of players wearing the hijab.
She had been hoping for dialogue, connection and inclusion. Instead, she felt the opposite.
“We have French identity cards,” she said. “But we don’t feel completely at home. ”
Aida Alami contributed reporting from New York, and Aurelien Breeden from Paris.
