By Joshua Van Alstine

The shemagh (الشماغ) is Arabian. Not Arabian in the sense of cultural association or political symbolism, but Arabian in the oldest and most precise sense: it emerged from the civilizations of the Arabian Peninsula and the Mesopotamian river basin, was shaped by the ecology and social structures of desert pastoral life across several millennia, and spread outward from that origin to neighboring peoples through the ordinary mechanisms of cultural influence, trade, and admiration. It belongs to Arabia the way the ghee belongs to the Indian subcontinent or the olive oil to the Mediterranean as a product so thoroughly shaped by a specific landscape and a specific way of inhabiting that landscape that it cannot be separated from its place of origin without losing the logic of its existence.

There is one element of the standard account that requires correction before proceeding, and it concerns scale. The red-and-white checkered pattern the visual signature most immediately associated with the shemagh by outsiders has a specific and well-documented origin in a British military officer’s uniform designation in 1930s Transjordan. That fact is true and relevant. But it concerns one color variant of one component of the garment’s appearance, in one country, at one moment in time. It does not concern the garment’s origin, its function, its structure, its cultural meaning, or its claim to Arabian identity. The shemagh as a tradition predates that moment by roughly five thousand years. The red-and-white pattern entered Saudi Arabia not through any external imposition Saudi Arabia was not under British colonial administration but through voluntary adoption across the Gulf, as Saudi men encountered the pattern and chose to wear it alongside the plain white ghutrah that was already, unambiguously, theirs.
To say that the red-and-white check has a British military origin in Transjordan is to say something true and interesting about one layer of the garment’s visual vocabulary. It is not to say anything at all about the shemagh’s Arabian identity. That identity is older than Islam, older than the Arab conquests, older than any political structure currently existing in the region. The garment predates the civilization that is sometimes credited with inventing it.
I. Origins and Nomenclature
The garment referred to throughout this essay as the shemagh is known by several names across the Arab world, each reflecting regional variation in use, form, and cultural context: keffiyeh or kūfīyah (كوفية) in Palestine and the broader Levant; ghutrah (غترة) in the Gulf states; hatta (حطة) in parts of Syria and Jordan; shmāgh or shemagh in Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and the Gulf. Despite these distinctions, all refer to variants of the same fundamental object a square of woven cloth, typically cotton in its modern form, worn as a headdress and all share the same basic structural logic of draping, folding, and securing (Stillman, 2000, pp. 1–12).
The word keffiyeh is generally understood to derive from the Iraqi city of Kufa – kūfīyah meaning ‘of Kufa’ though the garment’s association with any single place of origin is complicated by the geographic breadth of its use across the pre-modern Arab world (Lingala, 2014, p. 3). Scholars acknowledge candidly that the deepest origins of the garment are difficult to establish with precision. As Lingala (2014, p. 3) states: ‘Its origins are open to speculation,’ a condition she attributes partly to the fact that most historical research has focused on elite dress, whereas the keffiyeh has historically been associated with working and rural classes whose material culture is less thoroughly documented. What the evidence does support, however, is continuous Arabian and Mesopotamian use across a span of time that dwarfs any subsequent interventions in the garment’s history.
II. What Medieval Arabia Actually Wore
Before addressing the garment’s ancient origins, it is necessary to correct a misconception embedded in the popular account: that the shemagh and ghutrah were the primary headwear of medieval Arabia. They were not.
The ʿimāma (عمامة), or turban, was for most of the medieval Islamic period the dominant headwear of Arab men across the peninsula, the Levant, Iraq, and Egypt. By the eighth century, the wrapped turban had become the acknowledged sign of a Muslim male, with no fewer than sixty-six different methods of winding documented in historical sources (Baker, 1986, cited in Encyclopedia.com, 2024). An Arabic proverb preserved in classical literature states: Al-ʿAmāʾim Tijān Al-ʿArab (العمائم تيجان العرب) – ‘Turbans are the crowns of the Arabs’ (Lugatism, 2022). In the pre-Islamic Jahiliyyah (جاهلية) period, the turban was worn primarily by elites and wealthy merchants as a marker of high status and dignity.
Stillman (2000, pp. 5–12) documents the distinction carefully. The simple izār (إزار) a large wrap tied at the waist — was the everyday clothing of the ordinary Bedouin and rural poor. The turban was an aspirational garment, adopted partly in imitation of Sassanid Iranian and Byzantine neighbors with whom the Arabs had sustained trade and diplomatic contact. The caliph’s turban, the judge’s turban, the scholar’s turban, and the soldier’s turban each differed in color, size, and style, and these differences were enforced through sumptuary regulation from the Umayyad period onward.
Crucially, the earliest documentary and artistic evidence for the draped cloth ghutrah of the Gulf the ancestor of the modern shemagh is relatively late. Written reports of the ghutrah date to the early eighteenth century, and the earliest known pictorial representation is from the nineteenth century (Stillman, 2000, p. 9). The garment that the modern world treats as an ancient constant of Arabian identity was, in its present form, primarily associated with Bedouin tribal culture of the Najd (نجد) interior and adjacent regions not with the full sweep of medieval Arab civilization, which wore the turban.
This does not diminish the garment’s Arabian identity. It locates it more precisely: the shemagh is the headwear of Bedouin Arabia, of the desert interior, of the pastoral economy that herded camels and goats across the Najd and the surrounding regions. That is a specific and honorable identity. It does not require false antiquity.
III. Ancient Origins
The antecedents of the shemagh, however, are genuinely ancient, older than the Bedouin tribal culture that refined it into its present form, older than Islam, older than the Arab identity that now carries it.
The earliest functional precursor appears in Mesopotamia. Sources trace a form of woven head covering to Sumerian culture around 3100 BCE, where priests and rulers wore cloth over their heads as markers of sacred authority and status (Lingala, 2014, p. 3; Das, 2024).


Statue of Gudea, ruler of Lagash, Neo-Sumerian period, c.2090 BCE, currently in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. The ruler is depicted wearing a woven patterned headpiece widely identified as the functional precursor of the shemagh confirming the garment’s presence in Mesopotamian high culture more than four thousand years before any modern political association. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art, Open Access.
The woven pattern that characterizes the shemagh today its interlocking grid of lines and geometric forms is understood in Iraqi Arabic tradition to carry the visual memory of the fishing nets placed over the heads of Sumerian fishermen working the Tigris and Euphrates for protection from the summer sun. Whether or not this specific origin story is literally accurate, it reflects a genuine continuity: the geometric pattern of the shemagh connects it to the textile traditions of the Mesopotamian river basin, where the garment’s functional logic first developed.

Portrait of Prince Abdulaziz bin Mutaib Al Rashid. Watercolor by Julius Euting, Ha’il, November 29, 1883. (Courtesy of the University of Tübingen Library).
From the priestly and ruling classes of Mesopotamia, the head covering migrated over centuries and across geography into the nomadic culture of the Arabian Peninsula. The Bedouin tribes refined it for different environmental conditions not river delta but open desert where it functioned as protection against sun, sandstorm, and cold desert nights. This refinement was itself a form of Arabian cultural production: the Bedouin did not borrow the cloth and leave it unchanged. They adapted it, developed specific wrapping techniques, paired it with the agal cord, and embedded it in the tribal social structure of the peninsula in ways that made it distinctively their own.
The agal (العقال) the black cord worn to secure the cloth to the head has its own documented origin within the Arabian tradition. Arab forces near Kufa in the seventh century used cords of camel hair to fix their headdresses during battle and to identify their own fighters in combat; after their victory, the cord was retained as a permanent cultural feature (Lingala, 2014, p. 3). A functional military improvisation became a social permanent. The city of Kufa lent the garment one of its names. The camel-hair cord became the agal. The Bedouin desert refined the cloth. The whole system cloth, cord, fold, drape is a product of Arabian civilization.

“Arab from Yemen,” 1934–1939. Photograph by American Colony (Jerusalem). Photo Department. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. (LC-DIG-matpc-05741).
IV. What It Is Made From: A Material History
The question of raw materials is not incidental. What a garment is made from tells you where it came from, who had access to it, and what trade relationships it moved through. Across the regional variants of the shemagh and keffiyeh, the history of materials is itself a history of economic geography.
Ancient and pre-modern materials
The earliest forms of the garment were made from wool. The Middle East Eye, drawing on scholarly sources, states that the keffiyeh ‘is thought to have been originally made out of wool, before cotton was introduced from India and Egypt’ (Middle East Eye, 2023). The wool available to early Bedouin communities was locally produced: sheep’s wool and goat hair from the animals they herded, with camel hair reserved for heavier applications including the agal cord. Kawar and Einarsdóttir, writing in the Berg Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, document the agal as having been made from ‘black goat hair, brown camel hair, or brown sheep wool,’ with high-status Bedouin wearing elaborated versions in which the cord was ‘bound at intervals with gold thread’ (Kawar and Einarsdóttir, 2010, pp. 170–172). The hierarchy of material within even a single component encoded social rank in the most literal possible way.
The garment did not require trade because the animals that produced it were already present. This is the material logic of a pastoral economy the cloth came from the herd.
The cotton transition
Cotton arrived in Arabia from India and Egypt and gradually displaced wool as the dominant fiber for the keffiyeh and ghutrah (Middle East Eye, 2023). The word ‘cotton’ is itself Arabic from quṭn (قطن) which entered the Romance languages in the mid-twelfth century and English a century later via Old French coton and Old Italian cotone (Harper, 2001; Merriam-Webster, 2017). The fiber that would eventually clothe much of the industrial world was named in Arabic because it was through Arabic-speaking traders that Europe first encountered it at scale. The Arabian textile tradition gave the world both the cloth and the word for the cloth.
Once cotton dominated, keffiyeh weaving became a skilled craft industry centered in specific locations. The city of Kufa which lent the garment one of its names was documented as a center of keffiyeh production during the Abbasid period (Lugatism, 2024).

“An Arab Shaykh in his Travelling Dress,” which appears in the first edition (1855) of Sir Richard Francis Burton’s book, Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah
The Saudi ghutrah
The plain white ghutrah of the Gulf states presents a material history worth examining carefully. Arab News (2013), drawing on Saudi writers’ recollections, records that within living memory the white ghutrah was not manufactured anywhere in the Middle East it was known colloquially as ‘Swissri’, referring to a Swiss company whose brand was dominant until the 1970s. It is now overwhelmingly manufactured in China. The garment most directly descending from the pre-modern Bedouin head covering the one with the deepest claim to native authenticity has, in its modern cotton form, always been made outside Arabia. This does not make it less Saudi. The Saudi man who wears the white ghutrah today is wearing a tradition five thousand years deep, regardless of where the cotton was milled.


Head, ca. late 8th–early 7th century BCE. Neo-Babylonian. Ceramic, 4.92 in. (12.5 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of the Estate of James J. Rorimer, 1966 (1979.398).
The agal
The agal was made traditionally from tightly woven black goat hair and sheep’s wool (Saudi Arabesque, 2016; Fashion History Timeline, 2017). Modern agals are machine-made synthetic rope braided over cotton core. The shift from goat hair to synthetic fiber is the most complete material break in the entire tradition: the one component that maintained an unbroken connection to the pastoral economy from which the whole system emerged has been replaced by a manufactured product.

Yasser Hirbawi, founder of the Hirbawi Keffiyeh Factory, inspects a newly woven scarf on a traditional loom in Hebron, West Bank. Established in 1961, Hirbawi is the last remaining factory in Palestine dedicated to producing the authentic Palestinian kufiya.
The Palestinian keffiyeh
The Hirbawi factory in Hebron, the last Palestinian-owned keffiyeh manufacturer, weaves in 100% cotton (KUVRD, 2023). The vast majority of keffiyehs sold globally, including those marketed as Palestinian solidarity items, are manufactured in China from cotton-synthetic blends. The garment that became a global symbol of resistance to dispossession is now produced in a country whose manufacturing sector has displaced the last domestic producer of that same garment.
The Yemeni zanna
The highland turban of Yemen is woven from cotton or wool depending on altitude and season, with heavier wool versions worn in the cooler highland regions above Sana’a and lighter cotton versions in the warmer lowlands and Tihama coast (Fashiongton Post, 2024). The material gradient follows the terrain the same garment changes its fiber as the wearer descends from the mountains to the sea. This is the original logic preserved: material chosen by ecological condition rather than by trade availability or military designation.



“Zanzibar | Five photographs of rulers of Zanzibar, late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century.” Sotheby’s. Accessed March 30, 2026. https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2022/travel-atlases-maps-natural-history/zanzibar-five-photographs-of-rulers-of-zanzibar.
The Omani mussar and the ecological argument
The Omani mussar is made from Kashmiri Pashmina wool imported from the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, with the finest quality Pashmina derived from the undercoat of the Changthangi goat of the Ladakh plateau (Times of Oman, 2015). The reason for this import is not preference. It is ecology. Pashmina is the fine undercoat fiber of the Changthangi goat, a breed native to the Changthang plateau of Ladakh at altitudes above 4,100 metres, where winter temperatures reach −40°C. The goat produces this extraordinarily fine undercoat averaging 12–16 microns in diameter specifically as a biological response to extreme high-altitude cold. The fiber cannot be replicated at lower altitudes or warmer temperatures because it is not a product of breed alone.

Pashmina goats, June 11, 2008. Photograph by शंतनू (Shantanu). These goats, also known as Changthangi or Changra goats, are the primary source of fine pashmina wool, shown here grazing in their natural high-altitude habitat.
Oman has no terrain at sufficient altitude to produce this thermal stress. The Hajar Mountains peak at approximately 3,000 metres a full thousand metres below the minimum altitude at which pashmina goats are herded (Times of Oman, 2015). The mussar could therefore never have been a product of local material culture, not because Omanis lacked skill or enterprise, but because the specific fiber the mussar requires does not exist at Omani latitudes. The garment on the Omani man’s head is, materially, a direct product of the Indian Ocean trade routes that Omani mariners built and maintained for centuries.
V. What It Was For: A Taxonomy of Functions
The shemagh and its regional variants have accumulated distinct layers of purpose across their history. To treat any version of the garment as ‘simply traditional headwear’ is to collapse a complex functional history into a single uninstructive category. The functions fall into six registers that coexist simultaneously within a single wearer’s act of putting the cloth on his head.
Environmental protection
The foundational function is physical. The Arabian Peninsula presents a desert or semi-arid environment in which direct sun exposure is a medical threat, wind-driven sand is an occupational hazard, and cold desert nights follow furnace-hot days. The shemagh addresses all of these conditions with a single piece of cloth. Draped over the head and neck, it shields against sunburn. Pulled across the lower face, it filters dust and sand from the airways. Wrapped at night, it retains body heat (Stillman, 2000, pp. 5–8). Its function emerges from geometry: the same square, folded differently, solves different problems. The British Army, Special Air Service, and United States Marine Corps have all adopted the shemagh as standard or widely used field equipment for exactly these properties not for cultural reasons, but because the design solves the desert environment problem more effectively than anything developed by modern military textile engineering.
Thermoregulation
Soaking the cloth in water and wearing it wet produces evaporative cooling a low-technology but effective mechanism for reducing core body temperature in dry heat above 40°C. This extends the garment’s utility beyond protection into active cooling, making it closer to portable infrastructure than simple clothing.
Social stratification and class marking
The garment has functioned throughout its history as a marker of social class and specifically, in its Palestinian context, as a marker of low status that was later deliberately inverted. As documented in All Things Arabia (Brill): ‘It was headwear that marked men as city dwellers, villagers, or Bedouin, and indicated their religious affiliation and socio-economic position… the keffiyeh was a marker of low status, distinguishing the fellah (فلاح), peasant from the effendi (أفندي) the educated middle-class men of the town, who wore the maroon-colored tarbush (طربوش) or fez’ (Rijke-Epstein, 2020, p. 165). The 1936 Arab Revolt did not simply adopt the keffiyeh as a symbol. It inverted the existing class hierarchy of dress by ordering the urban educated classes to remove their tarbushes and replace them with the peasant’s headgear — a levelling whose instrument was cloth (Swedenburg, 1995, pp. 28–30).
Tribal and regional identification
The head cloth has functioned as a geographic and tribal identifier with the precision of a passport. The Fashion History Timeline at FIT, drawing on Kawar and Einarsdóttir, records: ‘wearing the ʿaqal over the head cloth indicates tribal identity in the larger confederations of the south; people not wearing the ʿaqal and wearing the headscarf folded back over the head in a semi-turban style are identified as coastal or palm-cultivating Arabs from the Shatt al-ʿArab (شط العرب) region’ (Fashion History Timeline, 2017). The cord, the fold, the tuck, the drape — each variation was a legible signal in a culture that read headwear as fluently as a Western audience reads a business card. The agal itself participated in this system. What began as a functional camel-hobbling rope gradually became a distinction marking Bedouins of north and central Arabia and descendants of ruling families from other Bedouins (Encyclopedia.com, 2024).
Camouflage and tactical concealment
During the Arab Revolt of 1936–39, Palestinian fighters wrapped the keffiyeh across their faces specifically to prevent identification by British Mandatory authorities. If all Palestinian men , urban and rural, fighter and civilian wore the same head covering draped across the face, fighters could not be distinguished from non-combatants. This is why the British attempted to ban the keffiyeh: not because it was a symbol, but because it was functioning as camouflage (Swedenburg, 1995, pp. 28–30). The symbolic dimension came later, attached to the functional one.



Political symbolism and national identity
The transformation of a functional garment into a political symbol occurred with particular intensity in the Palestinian case. Between the 1936 revolt and Yasser Arafat’s 1974 address to the United Nations General Assembly, a peasant’s head cloth became the de facto flag of a stateless nation, and subsequently through adoption by Fidel Castro, Nelson Mandela, and the global anti-war movement a symbol of resistance with no fixed geographic referent (Swedenburg, 1992, pp. 570–571; Renfro, 2018, p. 5). In the Gulf, the white ghutrah followed a parallel but distinct trajectory. It became the default formal dress of Gulf states worn at state occasions, business meetings, royal audiences, and religious gatherings as an expression of national identity, civilizational continuity, and a specifically non-Western modernity (Rijke-Epstein, 2020, p. 167).
Ceremonial and sacral function
The oldest documented purpose is sacral. The Sumerian priestly class wore head coverings as markers of sacred authority. The Abbasid caliph’s turban carried religious and civic mandate. The turban of the Islamic scholar, in its sixty-six documented wrapping styles, communicated rank within a religious hierarchy as precisely as any ecclesiastical vestment (Baker, 1986, p. 44). The garment that began as a fisherman’s net placed over a sunburned head became, in the space of its long history, the crown of the caliph, the dignity of the judge, the signal of the scholar, the uniform of the soldier, the camouflage of the fighter, the flag of the stateless, and the formal dress of the king.
VI. The Red-and-White Pattern: A Jordanian Military Detail
John Bagot Glubb or Glubb Pasha, commanded the Arab Legion in Transjordan under the British Mandate in the 1930s. He faced a practical administrative problem: units of different geographic origin needed to be visually distinguished from one another in the field. His solution was to standardize headwear by color. Jordanian units of the Arab Legion were assigned the red-and-white checkered shemagh; the cloth was manufactured in British textile mills and distributed as part of the military uniform (Kawar and Karmel, cited in Lingala, 2014, p. 6).

John Bagot Glubb “Glubb Pasha”
This is the full extent of the British intervention in the history of the shemagh. It concerns one color variant, in one country, under one administrative arrangement, for one military purpose. It does not concern the origin of the garment. It does not concern Saudi Arabia, which was not under British Mandate administration and was not subject to any British military dress designation. It does not concern the Arabian tradition that produced the garment over five thousand years.
The red-and-white pattern was not drawn from existing Bedouin textile tradition. It was a military designation. After the dissolution of the British Mandate, the pattern was absorbed into Jordanian national identity and by voluntary adoption across the Gulf into Saudi and broader Arabian dress culture. Saudi men encountered the pattern through trade and cultural contact, liked it, and chose to wear it alongside the plain white ghutrah that was already unambiguously theirs. That is cultural transmission, not imposition. It is, in fact, evidence of the Arabian tradition’s characteristic absorptive capacity: taking a foreign visual element and making it its own.
As Appadurai (1986, pp. 3–5) argues, the social life of objects is entangled with the political conditions of their circulation; meaning is not inherent to a thing but produced through the conditions under which it moves and is used. The red-and-white shemagh, whatever its origin, became genuinely meaningful to the men who wore it across Arabia. That meaning is real. The origin of the pattern is a separate matter, and a narrower one than is commonly understood.
VII. The Black-and-White Kaffiyeh: A Different Case
The black-and-white kaffiyeh presents a parallel case with a different outcome. In the 1950s, Glubb assigned the black-and-white pattern to Palestinian soldiers in the Arab Legion to distinguish them from Jordanian counterparts wearing red and white (Swedenburg, 1995, p. 27). The designation was, as Swedenburg describes it, ‘seemingly arbitrary’ a bureaucratic sorting mechanism with no cultural intention.
The transformation of the black-and-white kaffiyeh into a symbol of Palestinian national identity accelerated through a series of documented events. The Palestinian dress researcher Wafa Ghnaim, Senior Research Fellow at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is precise on what pre-1930s Palestinian keffiyehs actually looked like: ‘I often see a variety of colors white-black like we see today, but also green. And sometimes I see threads of gold and red. It’s really not until the 1930s that we start to see the keffiyeh change in meaning, not by the patterning that’s in the scarf, but in its use’ (NPR, 2023). The black-and-white pattern was not historically fixed as the Palestinian keffiyeh. It became so through a convergence of military designation and political appropriation and the result is a genuine and powerful cultural symbol, regardless of the administrative accident that produced its specific visual form.
VIII. The Color Question: Neither Sunni nor Shia
The belief that keffiyeh color encodes sectarian religious affiliation red for Sunni, black for Shia is a misconception that does not survive contact with the evidence. Palestinians are overwhelmingly Sunni Muslim. They wear the black-and-white keffiyeh. Jordan, Saudi Arabia, and the Gulf states also predominantly Sunni wear the red-and-white shemagh and plain white ghutrah. The supposed color-theology mapping is incoherent against the actual distribution.
What color does encode is geography, political faction, and specific administrative history not denominational identity. Within Palestine itself, the red-and-white keffiyeh is worn by members and supporters of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a Marxist-Leninist organization, while the black-and-white is associated with Fatah, a secular nationalist movement (Renfro, 2018, p. 5). These are political distinctions, not religious ones. The PFLP is explicitly secular. Its members are Sunni Muslims who wear red-and-white. The sectarian interpretation reflects a broader tendency to read Arab dress through a religious-civilizational framework. In the case of the keffiyeh, that framework is simply wrong.
IX. Oman: A Different Ocean
Oman presents the sharpest counter-example to any generalization about Arabian headwear. On the same peninsula, in the same climate, Omani men wear neither the ghutrah nor the shemagh in their dominant Gulf forms. They wear the mussar (مسار) a turban-style wrap of Kashmiri Pashmina wool, characterized by floral and paisley designs in bold colors, worn without an agal, folded and tied in regional styles that vary between Muscat, Sur, Salalah, and other areas (Times of Oman, 2015). The style in which a man tied his mussar identified his region of origin with sufficient precision to distinguish not just country but city.

Sayyid Badr bin Hamad bin Hamood Albusaidi, the Foreign Minister of Oman wearing the mussar (مسار) the Kashmiri Pashmina wool turban that distinguishes Omani headwear entirely from the agal-and-ghutrah system of the Arabian interior. The mussar is not a variant of the shemagh. It is a different object, made from a different fiber, following a different structural logic the product of a maritime civilization oriented toward South Asia rather than the Najdi desert interior and Right: Prince Faisal bin Farhan bin Abdullah, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Saudi Arabia.
The Kashmiri wool from which the mussar is made is the most direct evidence of why Oman diverged. It is not a local material. It is a trade material imported from South Asia across the Indian Ocean, through the same maritime networks that defined Omani civilization for centuries. Oman was not a desert empire. It was a maritime one. From the Bronze Age onward, Omani sailors navigated the Indian Ocean using monsoon patterns understood in the region since at least the third millennium BCE (Prange, 2014, pp. 46–48). At the height of the Busaidi Sultanate in the nineteenth century, Oman controlled Zanzibar, the Swahili coast, and the Persian port of Bandar Abbas simultaneously an Indian Ocean empire administered largely through Gujarati customs masters and diplomatic treaty (Sheriff, 1987, pp. 3–12). The garment on the head is, as it always is, the record of the world its wearer inhabited.
X. Yemen: The Highland and the Coast
Yemen’s headwear tradition is, like Yemen itself, internally diverse. The country’s geography ranges of highlands, coastal plains, interior deserts, and coastlines facing both the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea produced distinct regional dress traditions that share no single dominant form.
In the highland regions, particularly around Sana’a, men wear the zanna (زنة) or imāma (عمامة) a turban wrapped in styles that vary by region, occasion, and social standing (Fashiongton Post, 2024). The turban in Yemen remains active daily dress in highland communities, and its wrapping style communicates tribal and regional identity in ways that parallel the mussar’s regional tying patterns in Oman.
In rural and coastal areas, the maqrama (مقرمة) a head wrap that can be tied around the head for protection or draped over the shoulder serves a similar function to the Gulf ghutrah but is structurally and aesthetically distinct (Fashiongton Post, 2024). The material follows the elevation: heavier wool at altitude, lighter cotton at the coast. This is the original ecological logic of Arabian dress preserved in its most direct surviving form.
XI. Beyond Arabia: The Reach of an Arabian Tradition
The shemagh and its regional variants are worn across the Middle East by peoples who are not Arab. This is not evidence that the tradition belongs to no one. It is evidence of the Arabian tradition’s cultural reach and influence and, in some cases, of something older still: a shared regional heritage that predates the ethnic and religious distinctions that now organize how the area is understood.
The Kurds
Kurdish men have worn a variant of the keffiyeh as part of traditional dress for centuries. The Kurdish jamadani (جامداني) is a patterned cloth worn differently from the Arab agal-and-drape style typically wound around the head in combination with a conical hat, with the decorated tasselled border hanging down across the face (En-Academic, 2024). The Barzani tribal keffiyeh, red and white, functions as a clan identifier in exactly the way that regional Arab variants identify their wearers’ tribal geography.

This photograph, titled “An elderly man wears traditional kurdish attire,” was taken by Mohammad Majid and published on April 10, 2025. The portrait captures a senior Kurdish man in Zakho, Iraq. He is dressed in traditional Kurdish garments, which often include a turban (headgear), baggy trousers known as shalwar, and a wide cloth belt called a pîştên. These traditional outfits serve as enduring symbols of Kurdish strength, resilience, and cultural identity. A Kurdish man in the jamadani (جامداني) a patterned cloth wrapped differently from the Arab agal-and-drape system, typically wound over a hat with its tasselled border hanging down. The Kurdish tradition adopted elements from Arab headwear through centuries of contact, but the jamadani remains structurally and visually distinct.
The political valence of the Kurdish keffiyeh became acutely visible in Turkey, which banned the garment until the 2000s not because it was Arab, but because it was read as a symbol of solidarity with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) (Stillman, 2000, p. 9). A piece of cloth was banned by a nation-state because of what it communicated about political loyalties and ethnic identity. The identification function of the garment operates independently of any Arab political context.
The Yazidis
Yazidis an ethno-religious minority indigenous to the Sinjar region of northern Iraq wear the keffiyeh as part of traditional dress (Stillman, 2000, p. 9; Middle East Eye, 2023). The Yazidi community occupies the same geographic territory northern Mesopotamia where the garment’s earliest antecedents are traced. Their use of it is not adoption from Arab culture. It is parallel habitation of a shared regional inheritance that the Arab tradition also carries.
The Iraqi Turkmen
Iraqi Turkmen a Turkic-speaking ethnic minority concentrated in northern Iraq wear a version of the keffiyeh they call the jamadani (Stillman, 2000, p. 9). Their use reflects the ordinary process of regional diffusion: a practical garment, native to the environment and climate of the Tigris-Euphrates basin, adopted by successive communities because it worked.
Christians and Assyrians
The keffiyeh ‘remains distinctly Arab but is non-religious, as Arab Christians, Muslims, Druze and secular people wear it across the region’ (Middle East Eye, 2023). Assyrian Christians the indigenous Christian communities of northern Iraq who trace their ancestry to the ancient Assyrian civilization inhabit the geographic territory where the garment’s origins are located. The Assyrians were the dominant civilization of Mesopotamia when the garment’s earliest forms were worn. Their use of the head cloth tradition is not adoption of an Arab or Muslim practice. It is continuous habitation of a material culture they pre-existed.
The Jewish sudra
The Jewish parallel to the keffiyeh the sudra or sudar (Aramaic: סודרא) is documented in the Mishnah, the Babylonian Talmud, and multiple ancient and medieval Jewish and Christian texts in Aramaic and Koine Greek (Zahra, 2025). Jewish men, particularly Torah scholars, wore a rectangular cloth wrapped around the head and neck for millennia. The Jewish Encyclopedia notes that the Israelites most probably wore a headdress closely similar to that worn by the Bedouins of their era (Jewish Refugees, 2021) a direct acknowledgement that what became the keffiyeh on one side of a faith boundary was the sudra on the other, and the boundary was drawn by religion and community, not by the object.
XII. The Yörük Case: Convergent Evolution
What some observers have noted among the rural Yörüks of the Aegean a loosely draped cloth, orange in color, worn by elderly or working men in a way that functions identically to the keffiyeh is neither adoption of the Arab tradition nor coincidence. It is convergent evolution: two separate traditions, originating in different parts of the world, arriving independently at the same functional solution.
The Yörüks are Oghuz Turkic nomadic pastoralists who began migrating into Anatolia from Central Asia in the eleventh century CE. Their name derives from the Old Turkish verb yörümek, meaning ‘to walk,’ distinguishing mobile pastoral communities from settled Turkic villagers (Wikipedia, Yörüks, 2025). In the mid-thirteenth century, records indicate approximately 200,000 Yörük tribal families living in tents between Denizli and Izmir alone (Fethiye Times, 2024). The Sarıkeçili Yörüks, the last community maintaining fully nomadic seasonal migration, continue in Mersin Province today.
Their textile tradition is entirely Central Asian in origin. It has no genealogical connection to the Mesopotamian head cloth tradition that produced the keffiyeh. The Yörük brought with them from the steppe a material culture built around wool from the black goat and the Anatolian sheep, dyed using the natural dye plants of the environments they settled in (Küre Encyclopedia, 2026). In the Aegean and Mediterranean regions, the dominant natural dye was madder Rubia tinctorum, the root plant known in Turkish as kök boya. Madder dyed with an iron mordant produces a range of colors from burnt orange through terracotta to deep rust-red (Grokipedia, Ottoman Clothing, 2026). The orange visible on the Yörük head cloth is the color of the local plant on local wool. It is the landscape encoded in the cloth.

Yörük pastoral nomads of the Aegean region of Anatolia, Turkey. The Yörüks are Oghuz Turkic in origin, arriving in Anatolia from Central Asia beginning in the eleventh century culturally and genealogically unconnected to the Arabian tradition. Their head cloth tradition arrived independently at the same functional solution as the Arabian shemagh. The garment’s orange color reflects its material origin madder root on local wool not any connection to the Arabian palette. Source: Fethiye Times / Wikimedia Commons.
In the Ottoman sumptuary system, the head cloth worn by commoners was called the yemeni (يمني). Ottoman sources from the fourteenth century onward record: ‘while commoners wore külahs covered with abani or yemeni, higher-ranking men wore a wide variety of turbans’ (Wikipedia, Ottoman Clothing, 2025). The male equivalent among Yörük communities a cloth loosely wrapped or draped over the head in madder-orange is structurally the same object performing the same functions.
The parallel with the Arabian keffiyeh is exact in form and function. A square of woven cloth, worn on the head, protecting against the elements, readable as a social identifier. The materials differ. The origin routes differ entirely. The peoples who carry the tradition differ in every relevant historical and ethnic respect. But the object, placed side by side, is the same object.
This convergence is not a puzzle. It is what you would expect. Nomadic pastoral life in arid and semi-arid environments presents a consistent set of problems: sun, dust, cold at night, wind. A square of woven cloth draped over the head solves all of them with minimum material investment and maximum versatility. Whether you arrive at this solution from the Tigris delta or the Central Asian steppe, you arrive at the same thing. The form follows the environment. What differs is the cultural meaning subsequently attached and those differences are as total as the functional similarity is complete.
The Yörüks made it from madder-dyed wool in orange. The Bedouin made it from camel-hair and later cotton in white. The British military in Transjordan imposed a red-and-white check on one variant and called it uniform designation. Each iteration belongs to the same deep functional category of human response to desert conditions. None of them owns the form. But only one of them the Arabian tradition produced the garment in its fully developed social and cultural form, spread it across a civilizational sphere, and shaped it into the rich, layered, regionally specific tradition that the rest of the world subsequently encountered, adopted, and in some cases merely resembled.
Conclusion
The shemagh is Arabian. Its origins lie in the civilizations of Mesopotamia and the Arabian Peninsula. Its refinement into a sophisticated social and cultural object happened in the Bedouin tribal world of the Najd and adjacent deserts. Its spread to Kurds, Yazidis, Turkmen, Assyrian Christians, and Jewish communities across the region is evidence of that tradition’s cultural weight and geographic reach. Its appearance in a completely unrelated form among the Yörüks of Anatolia confirms, by contrast, that the Arabian shemagh is not merely a universal response to desert conditions it is a specific and fully developed cultural tradition that has its own identity and its own history.
The red-and-white checkered pattern has a specific origin in a British military officer’s uniform designation in 1930s Transjordan. That designation was applied in what is now Jordan, under the British Mandate administration. Saudi Arabia was not subject to this designation. Saudi men encountered the red-and-white pattern through trade and cultural contact across the Gulf and adopted it voluntarily alongside the white ghutrah that was already theirs. The pattern is now as Saudi as anything else Saudi men choose to make their own — and the tradition it attaches to is five thousand years old.
The black-and-white kaffiyeh has a similar administrative origin in the same decade, applied to Palestinian units of the same Arab Legion. It became the symbol of Palestinian national identity through decades of political struggle, collective adoption, and the deliberate choices of a people under occupation. That symbol is genuine and earned. Its administrative origin is a separate matter.
What both color variants share is this: they are surface patterns attached to an ancient object. The object itself the square of woven cloth, draped over the head, secured by cord, worn by Bedouin men across the Arabian Peninsula for thousands of years has no colonial origin, no administrative birth certificate, and no external inventor. It grew from the desert. It was shaped by the people who lived in the desert. It belongs to Arabia.
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Joshua Van Alstine has lived and worked in Saudi Arabia since 2012. He writes on the natural and cultural heritage of the Arabian Peninsula at joshuavanalstine.com.





























































































