[Read part one of the Hijab 5.0 Series]
I’m just going to come right out and say it: Sex workers wear the burqa. Drug users wear the veil. Child abusers wear the hijab. This piece of cloth is not THE sign of piety. There are vast amounts of women who do NOT wear it, and adhere to Islam with an enviable amount of piety, dedication and pure faith. And who unfortunately, are looked down upon for not wearing the hijab, receive fewer marriage proposals, and who are hijacked by the Media as being the “right kind of Muslim” (ie, not a terrorist or extremist)
Don’t get me wrong. I love my hijab. I love the community it affords me — how great is it that strangers greet me, or ask for directions or welcome me into their home because I’m an identifiable Muslim. In its simplicity as being a piece of cloth is also a multitude of wonderful experiences for women: it provides strength, God-consciousness, self-esteem, the ability to negotiate male-centric spheres without issue, and more. I just think that the hijab gets a lot of bad press and a lot of apologetics. It becomes a problem and an issue for women because it is reduced to being only a sign of piety. It becomes a problem because it is seen as only a dress code for women – when in fact, it is SUPPOSED to be more of a mental attitude practiced by both men and women.
You just will never hear of the 100 page treatise outlining how men should wear their hijab. Why isn’t the male “hijab” discussed more often? I shouldn’t be able to see your awrah in your tight jeans and muscle shirt (aka, gulf styles), nor when you wear shorts to play b-ball, and heaven forbid I look up at the imam and see butt crack in the last row. But we’ve made it a woman’s problem by only focusing on female aspects of hijab. So lower your voice, your gaze, cover up and move to the back.
Hijab 1.0
I put on hijab in May of 2001. Little did I know September was just around the corner. I put it on because:
a) it was mentioned in the Qur’an as a practice for “believing women” to help you become aware of God;
b) I was still in the throes of convertitis, and was really, really eager to follow all aspects of my new religion with enthusiastic abandon; and
c) I wanted people to know I was Muslim.
One of the major symptoms of convertitis is that you want everyone to know that you’ve accepted a new Truth. So I’d be in everyone’s face, dropping Islamic terms, or coming up with any excuse to mention that I was Muslim. Hijab would remove that overbearing need, as it’s pretty much a no-brainer when you see a headscarf to guess the religion.
First I did my research. Being a new, baby Muslimah, I had to get my facts straight and find out how to wear it, what to wear and why. The Internet is rife with well-intentioned advice for women wanting to cover. However, back then, you wouldn’t find websites talking about the modernization of hijab, or the new hijabistas. No… it was generally only about duty to God and protecting your inner pearl. Emphasizing the stripping away of makeup, jewelry, colour, perfume, and adornments that help people create their identity. While yes, hijab is about one’s relationship with God, and I value the argument of austerity to help still the mind and commune with the divine… hijab is also about your relationship with yourself. And as a convert, I was recreating myself. Separating my non-Muslim lifestyle and embracing an Islamic way of life.
So I went out, bought myself drab blacks, browns and navy blues and a whole new modest wardrobe. Because apparently, the majority voice argued that the best way to wear hijab, was to be inconspicuous. Black was best. Colours attracted attention. Lower your gaze, don’t talk to or touch men and become invisible. And I did.
But only to myself. Because I certainly attracted the attention of well-intentioned non-muslims who were confused to see a white woman in that thing, and muslim men on the prowl for a good, pious wife. While I accepted it, I really felt my sense of self shatter. In a matter of months, I went from one concept of who I was, to someone else entirely.
Hijab 2.0
Then came September. I was one of six women on university campus who wore hijab. I was also high-profile: I was a residence assistant in the dorms, on the Muslim Student’s Association, and on the Multifaith Committee. I gave the opening prayer during Convocation, and spoke at the 9/11 memorial.
That year I was also spit on, accosted in Tim Hortons and told to “go back to your country you Effing terrorist.” Seriously… who screams profanities in public to a short, tiny Muslim lady when you’re 6’4 and 170 lbs of muscle? Luckily my two (hijabless) girlfriends screamed right back at him (nobody else said a word). I was too shocked to move. That was also the year I received two marriage proposals and had three (non-Muslim) strangers proposition me. One guy looked me up and down, licked his lips and said, “ooooh, sooo nice.”
I was wearing a full length, formless skirt, a shapeless baggy blouse and my biggest, drapiest hijab. I went home that day and seriously questioned all of the articles claiming that hijab protected women. I had never felt so slimy and disgusted because of that jerk’s comments and the hungry look in his eyes.
Ladies: just because you wear the burqa, it does not protect you from men who have imaginations, nun fetishes, or use sex as power.
Hijab 3.0
Hijab 3.0 came about out of an emotional crisis. Previously I had segregated myself from all of my male Muslim friends, and only talked to the same group of online hijab enthusiasts. Now I was more involved in the community. This helped me in my loneliness and understanding of hijab as more than a tool to make you invisible (which it doesn’t). I was wearing colours again! And *GASP* the occasional pair of pants!
But I still wasn’t in physical contact with men.
One night, one of my favorite students came in with a problem that affected him deeply. After chatting for about an hour, he burst into tears. So I did what any caring human would do: I hugged him.
In that moment, I started seeing some of the hypocrisies of the practice of my faith. Why was it OK for Muslim men to talk to (apparently scantily clad) non-Muslim women, and not to talk to me? Why were some of them even going to clubs? What do you mean your Commerce group meets in the Pub? What the hell? And I’M the one that’s not allowed to shake hands?
I started questioning the fairness of it all.
Hijab 4.0
By the time I moved to Montreal, I had been wearing hijab for five years, and reevaluated why I wore it. Sure, I still saw it as being something requested of women (not a sin if you didn’t wear it), but I was wearing it more for the tradition (can’t deny 1400 years of usage) and for identity and community.
Then one of my hijabi friends attempted suicide.
At the time, she was befriended by strict adherents to the religion. People who told her that her daughter shouldn’t play with a toy harmonica because it was haraam (forbidden); that pictures of her daughter were haraam; that her jeans were haraam; that every thing she was finding joy in, was haraam. Presumably, she buckled under the weight of this pressure and lack of support at home. The most evil thing, was when she had taken the pills and called one of her so-called friends for help. “But sister, what you are doing is haraam” (suicide is forbidden). Thank God, a classmate happened to phone, find out what was going on, call 911, and save my friend’s life.
When she got better and came back to the community, her hijab had changed. She was wearing it less like the traditional Arab style, and more like how her community wore it “back home”. She was proud, beautiful and empowered. I envied her in that, as I felt my hijab becoming like a weight.
Then my best friend decided to put it on. But before she did, we had a discussion with Sheikh Omar, a spiritual leader with the Naqshbandi Sufis. This was the FIRST TIME a MALE spiritual leader sat down privately with me. The three of us discussed the virtues and needs for hijab, and then he showed us the most moving thing: he took off his turban.
This is akin to a priest removing his collar, or a Jew taking of his yarmulke. Removing a sacred object and showing you what was beneath. He slowly lifted it off his head, and straightened himself out to his fullest height, and explained that with out his turban, his soul was filled with worldly things, such as pride…. Then he put it back on and slowly sank into his seat, illustrating that when he wears it, he is humbled before God. It’s his constant reminder that God is watching him.
It may have been the night of dhikr, the goofy sufis, the lovely tea, or the thrill of having unrestricted access to a spiritual leader — but I was tremendously moved by that simple act. And I think that idea has stayed with me the longest.
Hijab 5.0
I started out this post series talking about how I wear my hijab today. The truth of the matter is that it changes with what I’m doing and who I’m with. If I’m with family who would feel more comfortable with me in the traditional style… yeah, I’m not going to sweat the small stuff. I like my current spanish hijab. It’s easier to deal with when nursing publicly and personally, I think it frames my face better than other styles.
Religion is organic and fluid. There is a claim that Islam is universal and “for all times”. I think it’s because it’s flexible and allows for cultural expression. With that in mind, we also have to discuss hijab as something that is open to interpretation, styles, fashion, and cultural influences. How they wear the hijab in Mali is different to how they wear it in Canada. Communities have been styling it in their cultural way for centuries. The “traditional” way of wearing it, is really simply an Arab style.
Should we expect that one cultural styling needs to be imposed upon another? What is the “right?”
I know some would answer by the “textbook” and say: “everything must be covered except for the hands and face”. So why don’t we just cut holes in bedsheets and wear them? Because we are WOMEN and human and are SEXUAL beings. And even in the act of covering our sexuality, we express it.
May 30, 2010 at 3:20 pm
I enjoyed reading about how one aspect of your religious experience evolved and continues to evolve throughout time.It’s interesting condundrum, the hijab. While one of the main points of this post is that the physical hijab isn’t the epitome of the Islamic experience, it has at the same time become the metaphor for your evolution as a Muslimah. That’s one frustration that I experienced as a (former) muhajjaba. I vacillated from wanting to come up with complex textual theses justifying why there are one billion ways to wear the hijab (including not wearing one) to believing that Muslim women should never ever write any more books or articles on the hijab because…really… what else is there to say? I’m still not sure how I feel about it. How can we expand Muslim feminism to include more than discussions on the hijab (and occasional reference to female genital mutilation and marriage/divorce rights).
Just some thoughts! Loved the post.
May 30, 2010 at 9:22 pm
Thanks! Parts of my post are highly problematic – I totally acknowledge that. I can’t reduce hijab to just one aspect and ignore the rest while classifying it as a “woman’s issue”. It’s just so very painful to go through it all — as you put it, “what else is there to say?” I sometimes want to tear my eyes out when it comes up (again) in academic circles, and (again) in the Media.
I have to accept and stop giving a damn about what others (may) think. It just infuriates me when people make it the sole issue affecting women. We hear it all the time from the pulpit: protect yourselves sisters – the only way to liberate yourself is to maintain your hijab.
Which is complete BS. The way to liberate women is to provide them free access to education, medical care, legal representation/rights, etc.
Banning the Burqa doesn’t help. The hijab needs to be de-emphasized so we can concentrate on the rest.
June 1, 2010 at 2:17 pm
I think this should be required reading for … well, for people in general. Smart, funny, honest, thoughtful… it’s everything you are — thank you!
June 2, 2010 at 12:52 am
I cannot possibly tell you how happy I am that you led me to your blog. This was a GREAT post; thank you for sharing your experience like this.
June 2, 2010 at 12:48 am
ur work is simply amazing. I look forward to more reads. ur last line is particularly moving…its so true…when we cover we too express our sexuality. some things just are.
June 2, 2010 at 8:01 am
i hope that the lightness i currently feel after reading that post and knowing that there are others out there that struggle with such concepts, is a lightness that you experience tenfold in return for breathing these words,sharing them, and doing so in a way that is so raw, and real. 🙂
i wish though, that these types of dialogues are exposed and uncovered in a way that has them outweigh the conventional stereotypes…. we really do need more nuanced, progressive reflection on these concepts and have them take place in a more public fora…
people will then see us for who we are: a beautiful, spiritual, reflective, people that are capable of critical thought.
not just a bunch of submissive, covered up ninja’s waiting to bow in obediance to the next brother/father/husband etc.
June 2, 2010 at 8:46 am
Thanks .e!manie. This weekend in Toronto there’s a conference on hijab Veiled Constellations that I’m really hoping will create a positive form for these types of discussions.
Looks pretty good actually when I see the speaker’s list!
August 6, 2010 at 7:30 pm
this is a great post! i wear a veil while at Mass (few Catholic Women veil) and while i cannot 100% say i know what you feel, i do understand.
October 5, 2010 at 12:04 pm
[…] They even saw it as a rejection of our culture when I started learning Arabic and particularly when I took on the hijab. But we kept the lines of discussion open, and with time, proof that I wasn’t going to abandon […]
October 13, 2010 at 7:54 pm
Wood Turtle, suppose a person has put on the hijab from a young age – and doesn’t necessarily feel an affinity to it. She put it on because of her family’s requests, and just never took it off. Suppose now, at around the age of 30, she is contemplating its purpose in her life. Her faith is strong, but for her, the hijab has become an act – like salaat without any form of khusoo’…
what advice could you dispel? A post on this is requested.
Thank you as always.
December 2, 2010 at 10:35 am
[…] find myself in a difficult position. On the one hand, I am an empowered woman who wears the hijab as a symbol of faith and as an identifier that I belong to the religion of Islam. Personally, I […]
February 4, 2011 at 11:21 am
Such a beautiful and well written article. Thank you.
As someone who kept box turtles as a child, and has never lost my love for them, could you say something about your handle?
February 4, 2011 at 11:25 am
I’m sorry. I didn’t see that you have already answered my question. That’s the problem with using the internet as a format. One is tempted to speak too soon!
March 17, 2011 at 4:42 pm
This post has touched my heart. I can more accurately see my own “hijab phases” by reading about yours. It´s one of those “A-ha experiences” for me. Thank you for sharing this.
March 23, 2011 at 10:39 pm
Toronto faced what we hope is the last blast of winter for this season today. I spent some time doing my hair this morning before I realized we were in the midst of a blizzard. I knew that if I went to work with my head uncovered I would be no more put together than a ragdoll by the time I got there. So in a moment of ingenuity I pulled out one of my many pashminas and decided that I would try and fashion some sort of hijab type contraption to cover my head. I don’t think I had it quite right but a reasonable version seemed like it would serve the purpose. I received some strange looks from people on the streetcar ( I am blond and blue eyed)as they were a little confused by the dichotomy of my look. However, I’ve discovered that I felt beautiful in it as I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window. It also served the purpose of keeping my hair styled and in place with only minor damage all the way to work.
Ladies, my makeshift hijab is off to you as I am beginning to understand how practical and ultimatley lovely a hijab can be, now I just need a nice lady to teach me how to wear it properly as I did struggle with the wind, which wouldn’t have happened if I had had it properly affixed. I think I may buy some lovely scarfs for the summer as well as I don’t like hats. I do hope this will not be considered disrespectful to you ladies who consider it a religious observance, as it is not intended as such. In fact I think it may help me to understand your beliefs on a more fundamental level. Thank you
April 23, 2011 at 6:25 am
ofcourse this is not disrespectful. check online and you will find many ways to do the scarf
May 21, 2011 at 3:27 pm
Thank you for your blog. I’m not a Muslim but I do cover my head for numerous reasons. I love your way of putting sense into things and combining religion and independent thinking that I’d love to see more in all kinds of religious groups.
The hijab is a piece of cloth. And then it’s also so much more… 🙂
May 24, 2011 at 10:02 pm
Welcome Kati — and thanks for commenting 🙂
August 22, 2011 at 2:35 pm
Once Again really enjoyable – and a really great way to help explain what the hijab is all about and how much intention and personal interpretation effect it.
Thanks!