My relationship with the hijab evolved and changed over the years. It started out with rejection and rebellion but as I grew in age and knowledge of Islam, I not only accepted my headscarf, but I also love it and take pride in it. Growing up in the only Muslim family in a small town in Kansas, US, and being of Syrian origin was not as difficult as one might expect. Our next door neighbors were kind and friendly; they welcomed my brother and me in their home to play. They adored my mother's Syrian cooking, which always received lavish praise. My father was known and respected as the young Muslim surgeon. However, he embarrassed me when one Saturday morning, relaxing at home with his coffee, he went out to the front porch to pick up his newspaper,……wearing a thobe!!! Our neighbor's son saw him, news spread like wildfire, and it took me days to explain that it was a man's thobe, not a woman's dress. For as far back as I can remember my mother had worn the hijab. She had lovely headscarves in soft colors; blue, pistachio, cream. I was twelve when my father told me to start wearing the hijab. At that time, I did not understand the wisdom behind the hijab and that it is easier to start at a young age, even though it is not obligated until a girl reaches puberty. I insisted that I was too young. I spoke, begged, cried, and wore a grumpy face all day long, but to no avail. At that moment I had no idea that, years later, I would thank my father for showing me the way. I visualized my friends at school avoiding me and even worse, laughing. On the first morning, waiting for my school bus, I felt that the headscarf was choking me, scratching my neck. My friends stared, but now that I reflect back, it probably was my red, puffy eyes from crying that made me look so bad, not the headscarf. I was mortified walking around in school wearing it, and on my ride back home as the heat elevated and sweat trickled down my back, I took it off. I rolled it into a messy wad and stuffed it into my backpack. When I sauntered into the house without my hijab, my mom calmly said, “It's time for some serious intervention.” Her idea of intervention was: shopping! My mom took me to the mall, but first we stopped for ice cream. She patiently explained that with the hijab on, I could still play, ride my bike, skate with my friends, have fun, and excel at school. Following Allah's commands is more important than worrying about what people think. She bought me blue crystal earrings, a diary, and a watch to soften me. Wearing the hijab was smooth sailing ever since. I lost some friends, but they were not true friends if their friendship was founded on appearances rather than personality. My confidence waivered during random incidents, like when at a park, a boy pointed at me and laughed. Moving to Saudi Arabia was a challenge and a blessing. I no longer had to explain why I covered my hair and I was not the odd one out anymore. I had the opportunity to learn Arabic and study more about Islam. Not just a piece of cloth, hijab – meaning a covering, shield or protection, is a whole package; covering the neck, wearing loose clothes that do not define the body, and avoiding make-up. It is a demeanor that exudes modesty, reserve, and dignity while dispelling flirtatiousness, arrogance, and flaunting. Hijab is not worn in front of women, the father, grandfather, uncle, brother, husband, son, father-in-law, and nephews. It is not oppressive; wearing hijab liberates women from obsessing about hair, make-up, clothes, and looks. We dress nicely and decently; we do not dress to impress others. Muslim women demand respect and to be judged based on integrity, character, and education rather than physical appearance. At college in the US, I met some amazing hijabis, Muslim women who wear hijab. From different backgrounds, they were a closely-knit group who looked out for one another and shared many happy moments. My friends gave me the courage that I was lacking and they taught me to be proud, but not arrogant. A truly inspirational girl, Geety, from Afghanistan, grew up in a Muslim family but they had no knowledge or practice of Islam. One of her parents suffered from alcohol abuse, though it is banned in Islam. Geety read almost every book she could get her hands on about Islam. She decided to wear the hijab and she believed in it from the bottom of her heart. Upon breaking the news to her family, her father ranted and raved and threatened to kick her out of the house. I am grateful to my own parents who guided and supported me to wear the hijab. Geety was literally fighting for her hijab and struggling to wear it. The day she told me her story, I called my parents and told them that I loved them and thanked them for making me wear the hijab. Wearing hijab is one part of being a Muslim woman. It would be incorrect and hypocritical for me to don a headscarf but abandon other teachings of Islam: feeding the poor, helping those in need, smiling, protecting the environment, being honest and kind, respecting elders, treating my children with patience and compassion, and serving my parents in their old age. Years have gone by; the defiant little girl who rejected the hijab is a distant memory. My own daughter will soon start wearing the hijab. I intend to use a gentle and appealing approach, but I will pass on the hijab to her just as I hope that she will pass it on to her daughters in the future.
