Al Haqeeqa
One of the most beautiful signifiers of Islam is the headscarf, or hijab. To me, the hijab is many things: it’s an outward The hijab beautifies the soul, there is no question; but it is how a woman looks at and treats the hijab when the magic happens.
I am forever grateful for what the hijab has done for me. Personally, it reminded me to show respect and love to everyone, but most importantly, to myself. Hijab taught me modesty in both how I present myself, and how I treat others.
What hijab does has no rule; how a women covers up — or doesn’t — does not define who she is, and it has nothing to do with looks. I have seen women who wear the veil have the ugliest souls. I have seen women who don’t wear the hijab give endless love and stick to their religion because of true conviction. It should be an ultimatum with everyone that a Muslim woman should not be judged because of what she wears or doesn’t wear.
The hijab is a journey. I am not here to present the hijab either negatively or positively, nor issue a scholarly ruling on it; I’m merely sharing my journey with hijab.
It should be an ultimatum with everyone that a Muslim woman should not be judged because of what she wears or doesn’t wear. tweet
I have worn the hijab for over six years. I had always planned on wearing it in 10th grade, but I actually started donning the hijab going into 7th grade. Do not ask me why; I still do not understand the logic to my supposed decision. I think I just saw all the older girls wear it at that age, and I wanted to do it as well. I still don’t get it though, because I am not really a person who chases after trends.
Anyway, one day, out of nowhere, on my way home with my mom, I decided to wear it. I felt like I was physically big enough and mature enough to wear it. I was excited, and I did it blindly. My society — definitely not my parents — falsely taught me that when a girl starts her menstrual cycle, she should cover up her body. Many use Islam to justify this stance, although there is debate over whether or not the hijab is fard (required).
When I decided to wear it, it was shortly after my 12th birthday. Looking back, I definitely do not think I was fully mature and knew the responsibility that came with hijab. To me, at the time, I took hijab as the unmentioned sixth pillar for Islamic women. This is obviously false — there are only five pillars of Islam.
My friends always asked me how I reached my decision to don the hijab at that time; to me, deciding to wear the hijab definitely felt like an epiphany. It was a burst of love for Islam.
There is no denial that the society I grew up definitely put pressure on girls to wear the hijab, and many girls I know were purely forced into it, when it should have been their choice.
I put the hijab on the very same day I decided to wear it. I never properly thought about it, and I felt like the decision was rushed. I was always told that the earlier, the better. In some ways, I agree; teaching kids at a young age gets convictions and ideals into their brain, and these ideas grow and develop with them as they age and mature. But let’s be clear: The hijab is not for kids.
When I put it on, my parents were actually shocked; they were happy, of course, but they asked me if I was sure about my decision. With barely any thought, I told them yes. I am happy they let me do that; they always gave me my own choices to make, and it greatly helped me in the future as I came into adulthood.
As for the future, let’s fast forward a bit. I never felt ridiculed for wearing hijab. I was raised Kuwait, an Islamic country where girls of many ages wore the hijab. Although none of my friends wore it, I never felt different. In middle school, a lot of girls were wearing it, and I felt at home and happy. I would never remove my hijab in front of any male who was not supposed to see me without it, although many girls around me, as we advanced into high school, started removing it at mixed parties, and would send pictures to their boyfriends. I have no judgement; everyone can do whatever they want. I was just shocked.
When I asked adults why would these girls would do so, they would tell me it is lack of faith in God. I would listen, and I was not really convinced, because I knew these girls, and they prayed and loved God as much as I did. tweet
When I asked adults why would these girls would do so, they would tell me it is lack of faith in God. I would listen, and I was not really convinced, because I knew these girls, and they prayed and loved God as much as I did. Plus, faith is subjective and is immeasurable; no one should say anything about anyone’s faith, to be honest.
As I grew up, my love for hijab grew with me, and I would not even remove it at all girls parties because I was afraid that I would inevitably appear in the background on someone’s Snapchat story or Instagram post, with my hair showing. Many people respected that, and I never felt more at ease.
I won’t lie — there were moments where I did not feel like the other girls. I still do not know how to style my hair, and I always think that I never felt as feminine than other girls because I felt like I couldn’t find cute age-appropriate modest clothing. (I was wrong though; hijabis can rock the heck out of literally anything!)
My femininity, I am realizing, comes from the love I give to myself and to my loved ones; it comes from changes I am giving my world, and how I treat others. My femininity does not come from what color hijab I wore with my outfit; it came from what I can offer, from how I grow. tweet
As I grew up, I realized that my hijab hindered me from absolutely nothing. My hijab doesn’t stop me from feeling feminine or stylish. On the contrary, the hijab does not make any girl or woman more or less of anything. My femininity does not come from a soft voice or looking cute as a button because of clothes. My femininity, I am realizing, comes from the love I give to myself and to my loved ones; it comes from changes I am giving my world, and how I treat others. My femininity does not come from what color hijab I wore with my outfit; it came from what I can offer, from how I grow.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, just like I wanted to wear it, I wanted to remove it. tweet
I always said that I will wear the hijab for the rest of my life, even when I moved to Montreal for university. Many of my friends and family members were worried that some racist jerk would attack me verbally or physically because of it. I told them that I will never remove my hijab, especially not for external reasons.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, just like I wanted to wear it, I wanted to remove it. With no explanation in my head, I just felt uncomfortable wearing it outside. I spent three nights thinking about it, and pushing the thoughts away, convincing myself it was the devil and the change of environment. I have been in Canada before, and I felt slightly uncomfortable when people would stare at my head, but I tried not to care. I felt generally safe.
As I got used to my new home, with all the changes that were happening, I wanted to remove my hijab. I told my parents, and they were shocked, but just like before, they supported me and told me to think about it. I put serious thought into it because of one main reason: I wanted to be honest with God. I felt this sudden unhappiness with it, and I felt like I was lying to myself.
I remember I pranked my friends a few months before about removing my hijab, for a sociology class where I had to test reactions regarding performing an informal sanction. Removing the hijab is generally looked down upon. My friend told me that I should not remove it because of anyone else, and that I should always do what makes me happy for the right reasons. I remembered what she said, and I was doing what made me happy in this new life of mine that came with many changes that I’m still adapting to.
I did have a friend who told me that she did not support my decision. I told her it was my decision to make, and that I respect her opinion. tweet
My mother told me that I should always keep on being the Muslim I am. I did not even give it a second thought; I know that my faith in Islam will always stay, and become better. There is no doubt about it.
I decided to remove it after a day and a bit, and I only told people close to me. I found it extremely hard to tell the three boys closest to my heart. They were and still are my best friends, and I just felt super weird if they saw me without it. The support and respect I saw from them then, and now, is amazingly crazy. They did not even say anything; they said they were happy for me, and respectfully asked me why.
I asked a friend of mine who has removed it before about how she felt when she removed it, and she told me that she did not care about the stigma around girls removing it, and that she is there to support me. My friends were loving as always.
I did have a friend who told me that she did not support my decision. I told her it was my decision to make, and that I respect her opinion.
I posted a selfie on Snapchat with no caption, just smiling. Many people though I posted the picture by mistake, obviously.
Many people asked why I removed it; I would respond that it was what I needed at that time, and maybe I will wear it again later. I honestly shouldn’t have mentioned my future plans to wear it again, because of their judgement — my life is mine, and even people I were not really close with seemed to have an opinion about why I removed it, or at least curiosity.
I posted a selfie on Snapchat with no caption, just smiling. Many people though I posted the picture by mistake, obviously. tweet
Many guys asked their friends who were friends of mine to ask if I genuinely did remove it. There were people that I avoided telling, even though they were super close to me, because I couldn’t really explain why I took my hijab off, either.
A lot of people told me they were shocked because I was “the most committed” to hijab.
Yes, I was — I always treated it with respect and never ridiculed it. I’d seen many girls ridiculing hijab and those who wore it after they themselves removed it; they would actually diss it even as they remained Muslims. That is their choice; it is just that people kind of expected me to mention what was bad about it (nothing), and I never did.
Many told me that how and when I removed it was gracious. I do not agree that there is a “gracious” way; no one knows what is in the souls of the women who remove it, and no one, again, is in the place to say anything.
It seemed to me like people were waiting for me to say I removed my hijab because of something bad about it and speak about the hijab negatively afterwards — but I didn’t because there wasn’t anything negative about wearing it. tweet
Sometimes I was afraid to discuss removing it. The fear didn’t truly take hold until I visited home for the third time after removing it, after I’d been living in Canada for a year. I was not afraid of people judging; I was afraid of the emotional toll that can accumulate from talking about such a personal decision.
More girls than I can remember came to me telling me that I was brave, and asking me how I approached removing it. I told them not to compare themselves to me, and that each girl was different. I am in no position to act like a sheikh and give advice on things I am still discovering myself. Many of them still want to remove it, but can’t remove it out of fear, or because of forceful parents. One such girl was planning to remove it but she did not, and was happy with her decision to eradicate her reluctance, and I told her I was happy for her.
I felt naked at the beginning, and there is still a smidge of that feeling left, and I do not think the feeling will really fade away until I wear the hijab again, whenever God wills. I did not feel people stare at me anymore, and I felt that I was blending in, without thinking at the back of my mind that someone will come and tell me some nasty remark.
Honestly, I was in no mental or emotional state — although I do not want to believe so or to admit it — to deal with any criticism from a stranger because of my Islam. Honestly, I always wish I was a little braver, but, there is always room for redemption; I am mustering up the strength to wear it wherever I want, with full honesty and conviction.
More girls than I can remember came to me telling me that I was brave, and asking me how I approached removing it. I told them not to compare themselves to me, and that each girl was different. I am in no position to act like a sheikh and give advice on things I am still discovering myself. tweet
As the months progressed, I was starting to feel more comfortable.
One day in October, I was on my way to a Mohammed Assaf concert downtown, and I was wearing my Palestinian thob. This is a dress that Palestinian women wear; I was out there showing my pride for my country, it is culturally free country, and I can do whatever I want. At the end of the day, Canada is also my country; I was born there and that’s something that connects me to the land, to Canada.
But that day, a man decided I didn’t belong. Mind you, at this time, I wasn’t wearing the hijab anymore, so I never thought I’d see the day that someone launched an attack on my existence based on what I was wearing. Some man angrily said something to the extent of “Screw Palestine!” and spit in my direction.
My thoughts were not with Palestine instantly; my thoughts were filled with fear for myself, and fear of Islamophobia (which is very real), and fear of racism. I couldn’t help but wonder what the man would have done if I was wearing the hijab as well, and what the man would have done to me if he hated the hijab more than he hated Palestine and Palestinians.
That day, three months after removing my hijab, I finally felt peaceful and serene with my decision to remove it.
Honestly, I always wish I was a little braver, but, there is always room for redemption; I am mustering up the strength to wear it wherever I want, with full honesty and conviction. tweet
A lot of people told me congratulations after I stopped wearing the hijab, but I don’t really think it’s something to congratulate me on. It’s just a part of my self-growth, and where I’m at right now. Hijab is not a burden that congratulations in order for removing.
Many also told me that I look beautiful, as if I suddenly became beautiful once I removed it. Hijab makes a woman beautiful physically, but the lack of it does not decrease beauty or increase beauty.
Removing a hijab for a guy to like you and see the “real” you is ridiculous. People who think girls remove their hijab so guys can be impressed, or girls can “slut it up” need to rethink their entire belief system when it comes to women. tweet
Going back to the girl who told me that I should not remove it for anyone, especially guys — I respected her advice, because removing a hijab for a guy to like you and see the “real” you is ridiculous. My love life (which is nonexistent for my reasons) literally did not change until this day.
People who think girls remove their hijab so guys can be impressed, or girls can “slut it up” need to rethink their entire belief system when it comes to women.
When I went back to Kuwait after I’d removed my hijab, it was extremely difficult for me to go back and visit school. I left after a short 20 minutes and it felt like I was running away.
A few months later, I went back and taught at the nursery department of the school, still feeling a bit uncomfortable, but I was finally okay. One of my teachers saw me without the hijab and asked me if I forgot Arabic. Some people seem to have the mentality that faith has to do solely with cultural identity, and that’s not the full story.
If I’m honest about the whole situation, I feel like taking off my hijab helped my faith strengthen, although others judge and say things to contrary.
I am ready for what the future holds, and to continue growing in my faith. The ridicule girls get for removing their hijab is distasteful, unnecessary, and it needs to stop. Why do people care? The only faith that is yours to dictate is your own.
Image courtesy of SheThePeople
