In fact, Quebec is on the path to becoming the world’s capital of religious intolerance, adopting stringent secular laws that are having devastating consequences on the employment, social acceptance and sense of belonging of Canadians of faith.
In a step up in enforcing “laïcité”—government-mandated secularism—Quebec passed Bill 21 in 2019, prohibiting public employees in positions of authority, like judges, police and teachers, from wearing religious symbols.
That means no hijabs, no turbans, no yarmulkes and no large crosses—though many religions require these as expressions of faith.
Who should they obey—Quebec politicians or the word of God?
Quebec followed with Bill 94, adopted in October 2025, extending the ban on religious symbols to all school employees and parent volunteers.
Bill 9, introduced in November 2025, goes even further, seeking to ban group prayer in public spaces, disallow religious face coverings for students and staff and cut public funding for religious private schools.
For deeply religious people serving in schools, the laws have been a disastrous slap in the face, forcing some to quit their jobs or leave Quebec altogether—and confronting dedicated educators and volunteers with a stark choice: Give up the jobs they love or give up outward expressions of their faith.
Who should they obey—Quebec politicians or the word of God?
Sabaah Khan, a Muslim mother who had volunteered for eight years in her children’s school library, was told she could no longer enter the building to volunteer while wearing her hijab.
Asma Qureshi, also a Muslim mother and seven-year volunteer, was barred from distributing food at her daughter’s graduation lunch unless she removed hers.
Pavandeep Magon, a Sikh parent, was prevented from setting up school events or even tying children’s skates at winter carnivals while wearing a turban.
Montreal teacher Bouchera Chelbi technically benefits from “acquired rights”—the principle that rights already granted cannot be removed by later legislation—and has therefore been “grandfathered in,” allowing her to wear her hijab while teaching. But she’s forever barred from promotion and cannot become a principal unless she discards her article of faith.
“They don’t look at what’s in your head; they look at what’s on your head,” Chelbi said.
Such discriminatory policies and practices have earned widespread condemnation from those concerned about the human rights of Quebec’s religious citizens.
As the Canadian Civil Liberties Association (CCLA) put it: “State secularism means the separation of religion from government institutions and the neutrality of the state towards religion.… This does not give the government license to suppress manifestations of religion in public spaces.”
“The freedom to express one’s thoughts, opinions and beliefs in public, including through prayer, is a cornerstone of any democratic society,” added Anaïs Bussieres McNicoll, director of the CCLA’s Fundamental Freedoms Program.
Harini Sivalingam, director of CCLA’s Equality Program, said, “Stripping people of their right to learn or to work because of their faith has no place in a democracy.”
The CCLA is not alone in its opposition. Those challenging Bill 21 at the Supreme Court of Canada include teachers directly affected by it, as well as the National Council of Canadian Muslims, the Legal Committee of the Coalition Inclusion Quebec and the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops.
“The purpose and effect of [Bill 21] is unilaterally to amend Canada’s federal constitution by imposing an anti-religious, non-neutral ideology, which goes beyond Quebec’s jurisdiction,” the bishops told the justices of the country’s highest court at a recent landmark hearing. “Quebec is attempting to impose an atheistic posture on religious believers.
“Just as religious symbols manifest an underlying personal faith, the prohibition of religious symbols manifests an outlook … that denies the divine.”
Nowhere are the effects more visible than in Montreal, where dozens of school staff have been fired, suspended or resigned because of their refusal to discard their articles of faith.
Mariem Gharnougui, a Muslim educator, lost her job teaching disabled children after refusing to remove her hijab.
“Suddenly, I am being forced to abandon these children,” Gharnougui said, forced to choose “between my identity—my values—and my career.”
Yet the government is maintaining its hardline stance, with former Quebec education minister Bernard Drainville insisting that those affected by the anti-religious legislation have only themselves to blame. “They decided not to respect the law and therefore, it’s their decision,” he said. “Unfortunately, they have to bear the consequences of their own personal choice.”
Unfortunately, so does the Canadian education system, which is losing skilled, experienced and beloved educators at a time when they can hardly afford to do so, noted Kathleen Legault, president of the Montreal Association of School Principals.
“There are times where I have to battle with this feeling of being a second-class citizen, when I know I’m not,” Qureshi said. “I think this is a wake-up call.”
It is a wake-up call.
The freedom to believe—and to live that belief openly—isn’t a privilege to be granted or withdrawn at the whim of politicians. It’s a fundamental right.
And it’s one that must be defended.
