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ndonesian women just don'€™t get it. Thanks to patient, pious and creative designers, the veil has become common attire among Muslim women. But those who prefer greater female modesty will need to be patient because women here cannot grasp why they should not be visible.

Policies trying to tone down women'€™s visibility, such as the planned ban on adult women dancing in North Aceh, are puzzling to people here. Since days gone by, women here have been used to public exposure. The jamu (herbal drinks) vendor walking around our neighborhoods today may wear the hijab '€“ the tight cloth covering the hair, neck and ears '€“ but she would be surprised and confused if there was a ban on women traveling alone, therefore hampering her daily business.

What the leaders don'€™t get is that while men and women enjoy the freedom to express their religion after the Soeharto years, they are also claiming citizens'€™ social and political freedoms. Women may flock to '€œMuslim fashion'€, but they resist the imposing of rules on how they should dress and behave.

Hence, the latest confusion within the National Police, following the news about female members who protested after being told they were not allowed to wear the veil. The police force is a national, secular institution, entrusted to keep peace in this highly diverse nation. With a lack of personnel, it may be hard to avoid assigning women, veiled or unveiled, to deal with squabbles and riots, which are often accompanied by religious nuances.

Yet, the government and the police will have to face down protests, echoed this week by Islamic leaders '€“ that banning the veil among the police is a human rights violation and, thus, unconstitutional. Meanwhile, the police are trying to explain their rule that only policewomen in Aceh are allowed to wear the hijab, which others say is discriminatory to personnel elsewhere.

This incident within the National Police reflects the high sense of entitlement of citizens'€™ rights. As Indonesia has yet to resolve how to combine matters of church and state, the police leadership will have a hard time in the coming weeks.

In Aceh, women have agreed to modify their dress code but, as activists argue, the sharia bylaws should be improving their lives rather than stigmatizing and punishing many of the province'€™s women and the impoverished. The problem is that there is '€œno public space'€ to talk about the problems with bylaws, says Azriana Rambe, a former commissioner with the National Commission on Violence Against Women (Komnas Perempuan).

Last week in Jakarta, Aceh activists including Azriana launched a report on increased violence against women in the province, following an earlier launch in Banda Aceh. The activists say they are fed up with having to comment on such '€œunsubstantial'€ matters such as the rules against adult women dancing in North Aceh, and an earlier rule against women straddling motorbikes in Langsa, also in the north of the province. They would rather tell the world of the increased violence in the province, including of incest '€“ where the morality police seem unable to see dirty old men pouncing on nieces, daughters and granddaughters.

When they are safely outside Aceh, the activists speak louder of the need to stop all these sexist morality rules, which they say target women as the source of evil and sin. The women, who include recipients of international and national awards on peace and human rights, stopped short of voicing disagreement with formal sharia. They argued instead for bylaws that ensured the welfare of Islamic societies with rules for better public services.

The reason why such ridiculous rules can be passed, said one Acehnese woman lawmaker, Yuniar, was that there were not enough women in strategic positions among policy-makers. Yuniar, who is a member of the Golkar Party, is one of four women members on Aceh'€™s Legislative Council; before the 2009 election, there were no women on the council.

Many of Aceh'€™s new leaders, says activist Farida Haryani, were former combatants in the jungle who were suddenly seeing lots of women mingling freely everywhere. Another reason for the sexist rules, her colleagues say, is that leaders cannot overcome problems like widespread poverty, such as in North Aceh, so they need to issue some policy to retain credibility.

And religious and moral issues always worked in Aceh, another activist said. Lots of people across the country are also in pious mode. Yet, people are also reclaiming their citizens'€™ rights; and because the Acehnese are also enjoying their freedom after more than 30 years of war, women there seem determined to move on, despite facing harassment when merely questioning sharia rules. Few among Aceh'€™s politicians are listening to these women, who say the best realistic option would be to have a '€œgrand design'€ for sharia laws that should ensure a better society.

But, after the historic peace agreement in 2005 in Helsinki, Finland, between Indonesia and the former Free Aceh Movement (GAM), activist Suraiya Kamaruzzaman said, '€œWe will no longer repeat the time when people could not raise their voices'€. She cited the military operation period from the 1980s to the end of the 1990s, '€œwhen no reports were allowed, despite thousands being killed'€. Today, '€œwe believe we have democratic space'€, said Suraiya, '€œand we will use it'€.

After the end of decades of war, they said, they would surely find a way to enjoy peace for themselves and their communities.