Genevieve Lepage, left, is a Quebec Muslim who is a lecturer on social psychology at the University of Montreal. Mohamed Habib Marzougui is the imam at the Abou Bakr Asseddique Mosque. Massoud Hayoun

Drainville confirmed to Al Jazeera that his party has halted efforts to keep a cross in the National Assembly if the law is passed.

“So that these people can continue to live in harmony, we should create a common space, neutral and secular, in our public institutions. That’s what the charter proposes.”

He explained that Quebec is “increasingly multiethnic and religiously diverse” and that diversity is a “great treasure for us and all Quebecers.”

“Firstly, equality between men and women. For us, this is a nonnegotiable principle … There is also the equality of all citizens of the state,” Drainville said.

“What the government hopes, with this law project, is to affirm certain values that are dear to Quebecers,” he told Al Jazeera.

The cover of an edition of the Quebec newspaper Le Courier du Sud features Drainville’s face and a quote in large print: “It’s time to return power to the people.”

The halls of the office are decked for Christmas, with glitter-dusted poinsettias, a tiny cloth Santa head on the receptionist’s desk, applications for Christmas gift baskets in the outbox and a half-eaten gingerbread tree cookie in the common area.

On the first floor of a low-rise office building tucked away in the tiny working-class Montreal suburb of Longueuil is the birthplace of the charter, the office of Minister of Democratic Institutions Bernard Drainville, a PQ member.

PQ legislators, who told Al Jazeera that the measure aims to maintain secularism in Quebec, have said the cross is acceptable because it is a symbol of the francophone province’s Catholic roots.

Opponents of the Charter of Quebec Values who are mounting what they say will be a large interfaith rally Saturday at Montreal’s Palais des Congres argue that the measure would force non-Christian employees of the state — at government offices, hospitals and schools — to choose between religious observance and their careers.

“I see it now as a sign of arbitrary privilege,” she told Al Jazeera. “It has this privileged place that’s totally unjustified.”

After lawmakers from Quebec’s center-left, French-Canadian nationalist Parti Quebecois (PQ) in November revealed controversial legislation that would bar public-sector employees from wearing religious dress like Muslim veils, Sikh turbans and Jewish kippas — everything with the exception of small symbols like the cross — Lu says she began to resent the giant crucifix, composed of a few dozen lightbulbs that appear to float above the city after nightfall.

MONTREAL — Catherine Lu often passes the giant cross atop Mont Royal on her way to McGill University, where she teaches political theory, focusing on concepts of individual rights.

Unveiling controversy

Charter opponents like Lu call the PQ’s logic a thinly veiled excuse to disadvantage non-Christians at province-funded workplaces.

In a Nov. 18 letter to The New York Times, Drainville wrote of the charter project, “These steps are taken at a time of growth of Islam in Quebec, as everywhere else. But the legislation is not specific to any religion.”

The letter “tells me they are suffering from doublethink,” Lu said. “If people never get exposed to differences, they can maintain their illegitimate, unfounded fears. That’s the biggest barrier to integration.”

That’s why Lu, who was raised in a secular, non-Muslim family in Vancouver, started wearing a hijab, the headscarf worn by some Muslim women, to class in September as news of the charter project arose.

“Many of us think if it passes, that will be the day when we all have a duty to wear a religious symbol,” she said at a cafe just blocks from the giant crucifix, wearing a makeshift hijab she fashioned out of a black ski cap and scarf.

Lu is one of several public employees in Montreal who have pledged to wear religious attire in an act of civil disobedience if the charter proposal passes.

The PQ’s prospective charter has sparked vigorous debate on secular government and religious pluralism in Quebec, cutting across traditional linguistic communities in the French- and English-speaking city of Montreal. A majority of Quebec universities, including McGill, have issued statements against the prohibition. Montreal’s landmark Jewish General Hospital has pledged to defy the law if it passes and allow employees to wear religious dress.

But charter opponents like Lu call the PQ's logic a thinly veiled excuse to disadvantage non-Christians at province-funded workplaces. In a Nov. 18 letter to the New York Times, Drainville wrote, of the charter project, “These steps are taken at a time of growth of Islam in Quebec, as everywhere else. But the legislation is not specific to any religion.” The letter “tells me they are suffering from double-speak,” Lu said. “If people never get exposed to differences, they can maintain their illegitimate, unfounded fears. That's the biggest barrier to integration.” That's why Lu, who was born secular and raised in a non-Muslim family in Vancouver, started wearing hijab — the headscarf worn by some Muslim women — to class in September, as news of the charter project started to arise. “Many of us think if it passes, that will be the day when we all have a duty to wear a religious symbol,” Lu said, wearing the makeshift hijab she fashioned out of a black ski cap and scarf at a cafe, just blocks from the giant crucifix. Lu is one of several public employees in Montreal who've pledged to wear religious gear in an act of civil disobedience if the charter proposal passes. The PQ's prospective charter has sparked vigorous debate on secular government and religious pluralism in Quebec, cutting across traditional linguistic communities in the French and English speaking city of Montreal. A majority of Quebec universities, including Lu's McGill, have issued statements against the ban. Montreal's landmark Jewish General Hospital has officially pledged to engage in civil disobedience by allowing employees to wear religious dress if the law passes. The polemic rages on at a time when other countries are also starting to impose bans on Muslim religious dress, in what opponents to the legislation call an infringement on personal freedoms and proponents argue is a step against encroaching religious influences in the state and toward winning rights for Muslim women. Lu plans to mount another protest-by-veil on the week of Jan. 14, when the charter proposal returns to Quebec's National Assembly for debate. She said the charter has in recent days posed a more tangible threat to local Muslims. “People who are already prejudiced now feel like they have a license. When the state accords inferior status to some citizens, it's saying we can infringe on rights of these citizens more than others, for some people they'll read that as a license to act in discriminatory ways,” Lu said. Genevieve Lepage is a Quebec Muslim who wears the veil and is a lecturer on social psychology at the Université de Montréal. She spoke to Al Jazeera at Abou Baker Asseddique Mosque, a small prayer facility above a hair salon in northern Montreal that houses the Association Musulmane Québécoise, a Muslim advocacy group where Lepage is a spokeswoman. Lepage says that since the charter was passed, she and her acquaintances have experienced more attacks, hostile stares and racial epithets from people who she says have been emboldened by the proposed legislation. Lepage worries that, if the charter passes, she will need to leave her native Quebec to find a new job after over a decade pursuing a doctorate in hopes of getting her current position. “I might become a religious refugee. Wow,” she said.

But charter opponents like Lu call the PQ's logic a thinly veiled excuse to disadvantage non-Christians at province-funded workplaces. In a Nov. 18 letter to the New York Times, Drainville wrote, of the charter project, “These steps are taken at a time of growth of Islam in Quebec, as everywhere else. But the legislation is not specific to any religion.” The letter “tells me they are suffering from double-speak,” Lu said. “If people never get exposed to differences, they can maintain their illegitimate, unfounded fears. That's the biggest barrier to integration.” That's why Lu, who was born secular and raised in a non-Muslim family in Vancouver, started wearing hijab — the headscarf worn by some Muslim women — to class in September, as news of the charter project started to arise. “Many of us think if it passes, that will be the day when we all have a duty to wear a religious symbol,” Lu said, wearing the makeshift hijab she fashioned out of a black ski cap and scarf at a cafe, just blocks from the giant crucifix. Lu is one of several public employees in Montreal who've pledged to wear religious gear in an act of civil disobedience if the charter proposal passes. The PQ's prospective charter has sparked vigorous debate on secular government and religious pluralism in Quebec, cutting across traditional linguistic communities in the French and English speaking city of Montreal. A majority of Quebec universities, including Lu's McGill, have issued statements against the ban. Montreal's landmark Jewish General Hospital has officially pledged to engage in civil disobedience by allowing employees to wear religious dress if the law passes. The polemic rages on at a time when other countries are also starting to impose bans on Muslim religious dress, in what opponents to the legislation call an infringement on personal freedoms and proponents argue is a step against encroaching religious influences in the state and toward winning rights for Muslim women. Lu plans to mount another protest-by-veil on the week of Jan. 14, when the charter proposal returns to Quebec's National Assembly for debate. She said the charter has in recent days posed a more tangible threat to local Muslims. “People who are already prejudiced now feel like they have a license. When the state accords inferior status to some citizens, it's saying we can infringe on rights of these citizens more than others, for some people they'll read that as a license to act in discriminatory ways,” Lu said. Genevieve Lepage is a Quebec Muslim who wears the veil and is a lecturer on social psychology at the Université de Montréal. She spoke to Al Jazeera at Abou Baker Asseddique Mosque, a small prayer facility above a hair salon in northern Montreal that houses the Association Musulmane Québécoise, a Muslim advocacy group where Lepage is a spokeswoman. Lepage says that since the charter was passed, she and her acquaintances have experienced more attacks, hostile stares and racial epithets from people who she says have been emboldened by the proposed legislation. Lepage worries that, if the charter passes, she will need to leave her native Quebec to find a new job after over a decade pursuing a doctorate in hopes of getting her current position. “I might become a religious refugee. Wow,” she said.

But charter opponents like Lu call the PQ's logic a thinly veiled excuse to disadvantage non-Christians at province-funded workplaces. In a Nov. 18 letter to the New York Times, Drainville wrote, of the charter project, “These steps are taken at a time of growth of Islam in Quebec, as everywhere else. But the legislation is not specific to any religion.” The letter “tells me they are suffering from double-speak,” Lu said. “If people never get exposed to differences, they can maintain their illegitimate, unfounded fears. That's the biggest barrier to integration.” That's why Lu, who was born secular and raised in a non-Muslim family in Vancouver, started wearing hijab — the headscarf worn by some Muslim women — to class in September, as news of the charter project started to arise. “Many of us think if it passes, that will be the day when we all have a duty to wear a religious symbol,” Lu said, wearing the makeshift hijab she fashioned out of a black ski cap and scarf at a cafe, just blocks from the giant crucifix. Lu is one of several public employees in Montreal who've pledged to wear religious gear in an act of civil disobedience if the charter proposal passes. The PQ's prospective charter has sparked vigorous debate on secular government and religious pluralism in Quebec, cutting across traditional linguistic communities in the French and English speaking city of Montreal. A majority of Quebec universities, including Lu's McGill, have issued statements against the ban. Montreal's landmark Jewish General Hospital has officially pledged to engage in civil disobedience by allowing employees to wear religious dress if the law passes. The polemic rages on at a time when other countries are also starting to impose bans on Muslim religious dress, in what opponents to the legislation call an infringement on personal freedoms and proponents argue is a step against encroaching religious influences in the state and toward winning rights for Muslim women. Lu plans to mount another protest-by-veil on the week of Jan. 14, when the charter proposal returns to Quebec's National Assembly for debate. She said the charter has in recent days posed a more tangible threat to local Muslims. “People who are already prejudiced now feel like they have a license. When the state accords inferior status to some citizens, it's saying we can infringe on rights of these citizens more than others, for some people they'll read that as a license to act in discriminatory ways,” Lu said. Genevieve Lepage is a Quebec Muslim who wears the veil and is a lecturer on social psychology at the Université de Montréal. She spoke to Al Jazeera at Abou Baker Asseddique Mosque, a small prayer facility above a hair salon in northern Montreal that houses the Association Musulmane Québécoise, a Muslim advocacy group where Lepage is a spokeswoman. Lepage says that since the charter was passed, she and her acquaintances have experienced more attacks, hostile stares and racial epithets from people who she says have been emboldened by the proposed legislation. Lepage worries that, if the charter passes, she will need to leave her native Quebec to find a new job after over a decade pursuing a doctorate in hopes of getting her current position. “I might become a religious refugee. Wow,” she said.

But charter opponents like Lu call the PQ's logic a thinly veiled excuse to disadvantage non-Christians at province-funded workplaces. In a Nov. 18 letter to the New York Times, Drainville wrote, of the charter project, “These steps are taken at a time of growth of Islam in Quebec, as everywhere else. But the legislation is not specific to any religion.” The letter “tells me they are suffering from double-speak,” Lu said. “If people never get exposed to differences, they can maintain their illegitimate, unfounded fears. That's the biggest barrier to integration.” That's why Lu, who was born secular and raised in a non-Muslim family in Vancouver, started wearing hijab — the headscarf worn by some Muslim women — to class in September, as news of the charter project started to arise. “Many of us think if it passes, that will be the day when we all have a duty to wear a religious symbol,” Lu said, wearing the makeshift hijab she fashioned out of a black ski cap and scarf at a cafe, just blocks from the giant crucifix. Lu is one of several public employees in Montreal who've pledged to wear religious gear in an act of civil disobedience if the charter proposal passes. The PQ's prospective charter has sparked vigorous debate on secular government and religious pluralism in Quebec, cutting across traditional linguistic communities in the French and English speaking city of Montreal. A majority of Quebec universities, including Lu's McGill, have issued statements against the ban. Montreal's landmark Jewish General Hospital has officially pledged to engage in civil disobedience by allowing employees to wear religious dress if the law passes. The polemic rages on at a time when other countries are also starting to impose bans on Muslim religious dress, in what opponents to the legislation call an infringement on personal freedoms and proponents argue is a step against encroaching religious influences in the state and toward winning rights for Muslim women. Lu plans to mount another protest-by-veil on the week of Jan. 14, when the charter proposal returns to Quebec's National Assembly for debate. She said the charter has in recent days posed a more tangible threat to local Muslims. “People who are already prejudiced now feel like they have a license. When the state accords inferior status to some citizens, it's saying we can infringe on rights of these citizens more than others, for some people they'll read that as a license to act in discriminatory ways,” Lu said. Genevieve Lepage is a Quebec Muslim who wears the veil and is a lecturer on social psychology at the Université de Montréal. She spoke to Al Jazeera at Abou Baker Asseddique Mosque, a small prayer facility above a hair salon in northern Montreal that houses the Association Musulmane Québécoise, a Muslim advocacy group where Lepage is a spokeswoman. Lepage says that since the charter was passed, she and her acquaintances have experienced more attacks, hostile stares and racial epithets from people who she says have been emboldened by the proposed legislation. Lepage worries that, if the charter passes, she will need to leave her native Quebec to find a new job after over a decade pursuing a doctorate in hopes of getting her current position. “I might become a religious refugee. Wow,” she said.

But charter opponents like Lu call the PQ's logic a thinly veiled excuse to disadvantage non-Christians at province-funded workplaces. In a Nov. 18 letter to the New York Times, Drainville wrote, of the charter project, “These steps are taken at a time of growth of Islam in Quebec, as everywhere else. But the legislation is not specific to any religion.” The letter “tells me they are suffering from double-speak,” Lu said. “If people never get exposed to differences, they can maintain their illegitimate, unfounded fears. That's the biggest barrier to integration.” That's why Lu, who was born secular and raised in a non-Muslim family in Vancouver, started wearing hijab — the headscarf worn by some Muslim women — to class in September, as news of the charter project started to arise. “Many of us think if it passes, that will be the day when we all have a duty to wear a religious symbol,” Lu said, wearing the makeshift hijab she fashioned out of a black ski cap and scarf at a cafe, just blocks from the giant crucifix. Lu is one of several public employees in Montreal who've pledged to wear religious gear in an act of civil disobedience if the charter proposal passes. The PQ's prospective charter has sparked vigorous debate on secular government and religious pluralism in Quebec, cutting across traditional linguistic communities in the French and English speaking city of Montreal. A majority of Quebec universities, including Lu's McGill, have issued statements against the ban. Montreal's landmark Jewish General Hospital has officially pledged to engage in civil disobedience by allowing employees to wear religious dress if the law passes. The polemic rages on at a time when other countries are also starting to impose bans on Muslim religious dress, in what opponents to the legislation call an infringement on personal freedoms and proponents argue is a step against encroaching religious influences in the state and toward winning rights for Muslim women. Lu plans to mount another protest-by-veil on the week of Jan. 14, when the charter proposal returns to Quebec's National Assembly for debate. She said the charter has in recent days posed a more tangible threat to local Muslims. “People who are already prejudiced now feel like they have a license. When the state accords inferior status to some citizens, it's saying we can infringe on rights of these citizens more than others, for some people they'll read that as a license to act in discriminatory ways,” Lu said. Genevieve Lepage is a Quebec Muslim who wears the veil and is a lecturer on social psychology at the Université de Montréal. She spoke to Al Jazeera at Abou Baker Asseddique Mosque, a small prayer facility above a hair salon in northern Montreal that houses the Association Musulmane Québécoise, a Muslim advocacy group where Lepage is a spokeswoman. Lepage says that since the charter was passed, she and her acquaintances have experienced more attacks, hostile stares and racial epithets from people who she says have been emboldened by the proposed legislation. Lepage worries that, if the charter passes, she will need to leave her native Quebec to find a new job after over a decade pursuing a doctorate in hopes of getting her current position. “I might become a religious refugee. Wow,” she said.