Here, we amplify the voices of Muslim women in our communities. We give voices to Muslim women who have something exclusive about Muslim women to rant or talk about.
Hijabis can’t do this, sit like that, joke about this, or try that. Hijabis must do this, sit like that, talk about this, listen to that. Hijabis are hijabis before they are girls, before they are people, before they are human. And, above all, hijabis must endure. I understand endurance of pain, loss, fear, hardships. But of deteriorating esteem? Of waning expressiveness? Of a noticeable loss in femininity? Of a dwindling perception of the self?
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As a Muslim, I try my best to talk about Islam in the way I believe it to be true and not in the way that the media would like to portray me as. I remember somewhere in the conversation, she mentioned how when she went to Dubai, couples were not allowed to hold hands and how she found that to be backwards. I told her, it is their culture and it is their country and if you did not like it, you do not have to go there.
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Women who don’t become pregnant have been presumed to have weak morality and stereotyped as promiscuous or masculine. From the snide comments about her chastity and medical history to the explicit confrontations about whether or not she has had an abortion in the past or has been using contraceptives to avoid getting pregnant, the issue of infertility is a leading cause of anxiety and mental health issues for many women.
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Women’s voices are still struggling to be heard unfiltered even when they bring up their own grievous stories. They still come out mixed up with judgment and fear, they receive the request to be polite and they often collide with society’s will to cut out the most unsettling parts. Hence the very popular choice of silence instead of voicing violence, racism, and homotransphobia. Marginalized people do prefer keeping silent than seeing their stories thrown in the public sphere with little chance of a truthful narrative.
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Over time, I found that the questions couldn’t be shushed anymore. Whenever I was around women, these questions would come to me. “Do you ever consider taking it off?” I would ponder. “Now that you are wearing it, how did you get to this stage? Who are you wearing it for?” These questions demanded answers. These are topics we should be able to discuss at great length, but these subjects, whenever brought up in conversations, are met with stark disapproval and resignation, as though they were blasphemy.
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It made me think about how many Muslims go through degradation and ridicule in America? Especially post 9/11? I believe what struck me the most was my cousin. I love my cousin, he knows that but what he said first stung a little then confused me. He stated, “Go learn that lesson then take it off ASAP. And make sure they ain’t teaching you how to wrap explosives in that head wrap”.
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I knew that people would look at me and think that I was liberated. I didn’t want to explain myself anymore, because that was all I ever did as a hijabi, and I wanted to escape the cycle where my body as a Muslim woman was perpetually a public affair. I was so tired of defending myself at the cost of myself, and it struck me as terribly cruel that the hijab would continue to define me by nature of its absence after I took it off.
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For a while, the heroes of the decade were people whose mind and matter were not white, Fidel Castro in Cuba, Gamal Abdel Nasser in Egypt, Malcolm X in America, Ben Bella in Algeria, Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam, amongst many others. Suspend your politics of left and right or your views on violence and non-violence as a means for liberation for a second and consider that for a period, people tried to put the oppressed people first.
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I was a different person in college. I was me. I found my voice. I found the education I needed to open my mind; the strength I needed to voice out ‘inequality’. It was some sort of training my parents didn’t anticipate. We were taught to be independent, to never depend on men, or their opinions. It’s also where I learnt that “We”, as women are so much capable, individually and collectively. Thanks to this education, I gathered the courage to be financially independent. I called off a wedding, decided to stay single and adopted a kitten when my hormones started acting up.
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As a Muslim, Arab-American I have encountered different types of prejudice and racism throughout the ten years that I have lived here. The scarf that I wear on my head had caused people to give me many belittling looks, sarcastic laughs, and hurtful words, and my identity, which I have always been proud of, became a barrier standing between myself and many people in this country.
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