Eryn has decided to wear the hijab.
She’s at a lovely precocious stage of mimicry where she will throw diapers into the dustbin and wave ‘bye-bye’ to my makeup as she flushes it down the toilet. She cleans the floors and the windows with the kitchen towel. She brushes her hair with her toothbrush, puts her shoes on backwards, knows how to access YouTube and dusts her grandfather’s foot powder on everyone’s feet.
When I grab my shawl and prepare for one of the daily prayers, she crawls to the prayer area and starts moving her hands to her ears in takbir. She’ll then cup her hands in front of her face in supplication and place her forehead to the ground in prostration. When I’ve finished praying, she’ll sway from side to side as I chant Arabic recitations. Then she’ll “ask” for her hijab.
In one of her many sensory discovery boxes, I have scarves of different colours and textures — so I’ll let her pick one out. Once I’ve wrapped it around her head, she’ll look appreciatively at herself in the mirror, kiss her reflection and promptly take it off.
The first time she did this, I beamed and praised her. The second time was just as cute as the first. I really didn’t think anything of it, except that her cherubic cheeks looked so darn cute poking out from the scarf’s cowl. The third time we were praying with the Hubby, and before the prayer began he handed the scarf to her and said, “Here sweetie, put on your hijab.” I stopped cold and about a hundred red flags went up in my mind.
We try to be responsible parents. We limit chocolate and television. We’ve incorporated Montessori teachings into her daily schedule. We expose her to books, global cultures and she’s taking instruction in three languages. And we’ve had the hijab discussion.
The hijab discussion essentially amounted to the both of us agreeing that one day, if she wants to wear the hijab we won’t prevent her from doing so. But that it will not be an issue that is forced upon her. Eryn wearing hijab is something between herself and God — once she’s old enough to understand the meaning and intent behind it. Now, I completely recognize that because I wear hijab, I could very well influence not only her decision, but the timing of it.
Babies in hijab are really, really cute. It’s probably safe to say that every parent has dressed their baby in some kind of cultural costume, Star Wars inspired t-shirt, footballer onesie, band paraphernalia, formal attire or at the very least given the baby a shampoo mowhawk, just to squeal in delight at the amazing cuteness. It’s the same for hijab. For a baby, hijab is just dress-up. It’s a colourful and textured scarf.
But for women, hijab is more than just play. It’s intended to be a symbol of the faith, an additional step in modest dressing, and for many, a required act of worship. It’s supposed to be a personal choice that helps regulate interaction between unfamiliar men and women. It’s to act as a barrier between the Self and sexuality so men and women can interact with each other without attraction getting in the way. Hijab is a way of dressing as much as it is a symbol of Islam and a system of social mannerisms.
In practice, hijab is all of these things, but it also is forced upon women and used to repress and control their sexuality. It sets up a hetero-normative expectation of how men and women should act with each other. In some cases, women are erroneously taught to wear the hijab because uncovered, their bodies attract unwanted attention and men are incapable of controlling themselves. Many believe that hijab is a Divine commandment that protects women’s sexuality and maintains the chastity of men.
For many, hijab is obligatory on every Muslim woman, and the definition of “woman” tends to be when a girl begins menstruating. It’s reasoned that because every religious duty (such as prayer and fasting) is incumbent upon a child once they reach puberty, girls must therefore also wear the hijab. Unfortunately, it’s also reasoned that when a girl approaches puberty, boys may find her attractive as her body blossoms. So, it’s just better for everyone involved if she covers up.
In fact, it’s argued that in order for a girl to “be comfortable with hijab” by the time she reaches puberty, it’s even better if parents encourage her to start covering earlier. That way it won’t be much of a transition when her entire world is rocked by the torrential hormonal changes, the potentially publicly embarrassing physical changes, the indignity of having her father pick up maxi-pads on his way home from work, the absolutely frightening shock of finding blood on underwear — because she’s already been taught to view herself as a sexual being at the age of 8.
There’s a difference between discussing menstruation with your children as a natural, normal and celebrated bodily function, and discussing it as a marker for sexual preparedness.
I don’t like seeing the hijab on little girls — and when I say little girls, I mean at least from the ages of 5-12. Because hijab is such a “grown-up” decision, I can’t help but feel that there are ulterior motives. When they’re exploring their Muslim identity, mimicking an older sibling, or joining mom at the mosque like “a big girl,” it can be endearing. These are also reasons as to why Muslim parents may put hijab on their young girls. But I’ve seen a lot of young girls wearing the hijab because it’s expected of them, a parent has forced the matter at home, or it’s an expectation upheld by school systems.
Sometimes it’s used as an identifier celebrating Muslim cultural identity. Once when volunteering at a fun fair with the March of Dimes, I saw several young girls in hijab. When I asked one of the parent volunteers why her daughter wore hijab, she told me it was because she wanted to remind her daughter’s teachers that she was not allowed to eat the pork hot dogs. But more often than not, when the hijab is put on young girls, it socializes them into accepting a standard of controlled sexuality.
Recently Baher Ibrahim wrote an opinion piece for the Guardian on the rise of little girls wearing the hijab in Egypt:
Many defenders of the hijab point to the influence of “decadent western culture”, endlessly criticising how western TV sexualises and objectifies women, though they fail to understand that they are doing they exact same thing to little girls when they constantly promote the hijab. If it is so important to cover up, there must be something worth covering up and hiding from men. Inevitably, little girls are taught to view themselves as sexual objects that must be covered up from an early age – and it is this culture permeating the minds of our younger generations.
Much to my horror and confusion, when I got my period at the age of 11 my mother proudly announced to my father that I was now a woman. I had no breasts, no hips, no sexual experiences, no concept of how sex really works, no notion of the complexities of romantic relationships, and no desire to be a woman. You can bet that it’s completely confusing to tell an 8-year-old that she has to cover her body because men will find her sexually attractive. What does that information do to her sense of self if she wakes up to see herself as a standard of sexuality? That the duty to maintain the chastity of men relies solely on the body of a prepubescent girl?
There’s nothing wrong in helping instill values of modesty in our children, but this can be done without relying on arguments which objectify women. Personally, I think offering young girls the option of wearing skinny jeans, cropped shirts and high heels to be just as outrageous as forcing them into hijab. I don’t buy into the argument that hijab is a bulwark for sexuality — for a woman or a child. Men will still find women attractive, even if they’re wearing a burqa. And boys will still snap bras in the playground, even if the girls are wearing hijab.
When the Hubby told Eryn to put on her hijab I reacted because it was an external voice commanding her to do what ultimately must be her choice. I know he was simply encouraging her, just like we encourage her to throw out her diapers or clean the floor when we see her performing these tasks (not so much the flushing of the makeup though). He also asked her to put on the hijab because he was inviting her to the prayer — a time when all women traditionally are required to cover their heads. I also know that because I wear the hijab, I have already influenced her — and I sometimes worry that this influence will make her want to wear hijab before she is truly ready.
I 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 believe that you can be modest and practice the method of hijab without actually wearing one. So I will not be telling my baby that she has to wear hijab because she is a woman and a sexual being. That her breasts and hair are in need of covering to be equal with the boys in her class and the men on the street. On the other hand, I’m not sure what I’ll do if she wants to wear hijab at the age of 8 because she wants to be “grown up” like me. Or because she’s proud of her Muslim cultural heritage.
I want her to choose hijab for herself if and when she is ready. When she is old enough to understand the value of our religious culture and appreciate all of the varied reasons to wear the hijab. But I also want to protect her from spurious viewpoints that may make her feel less than equal to anyone, and of course, from any negative viewpoints of the hijab. Forget about what the neighbours will think if she’s running around town with a Dora-inspired hijab. I don’t want her to ever feel ‘othered’ or attacked because of a cloth symbol.
I want to be a parent who encourages her explorations into identity, not make her acutely aware of her gender. I want to encourage her in all things positive — whether it’s playing dress-up, competing in physical challenges, visiting other houses of worship, or proudly announcing to the world who she is.
No matter what, she’ll still be my little baby.
Cross-posted at Womanist Musings.
December 2, 2010 at 12:11 pm
Awesome post, and OMG, she does look incredibly cute in that hijab.
I do get rather alarmed when I see young girls wearing hijab – it’s very common in our Somali community here in Seattle. It’s disturbing to me to see a 5 year-old girl stumbling down the street in a floor-length skirt and long scarf.
How did you feel about that 10 year-old girl who decided to wear hijab? It was all over the news a year or so ago, I think. She seemed very self-possessed. I can’t find a link to the article, or I would link it here. I think her mum was American and her dad was Libyan. Her parents were divorced, and she chose to start wearing hijab after a trip to visit some relatives abroad.
December 2, 2010 at 12:18 pm
Also, the idea of a toddler kissing her own reflection is so cute that it makes me want to reproduce almost instantly.
December 2, 2010 at 10:07 pm
Oh, how I’ve missed your comments!
December 2, 2010 at 10:27 pm
I think the article you’re talking about was written for O magazine.
I can’t really say how I feel about the girl’s decision to wear it, since the article is mostly about her mother’s reaction to it, her own childhood and exploration into bodily self-awareness, and the slow realization of who her daughter is growing up to be.
From the article it sounds like her daughter is exploring her identity as the daughter of a Muslim father / American mother — and has chosen the hijab as an expression of this identity. The author even says at the end that she is not sure how long her daughter’s affair with the hijab will last. If anything, the mother should be commended for allowing her daughter to take on this exploration in a supportive environment.
It reminds me of this past summer when Annie@phdinparenting posted a picture of her daughter in hijab when she expressed a fleeting interest in wearing one. Rather than being fearful of other cultures or identities, Annie provided a supportive environment for her daughter to explore the reasons why she was enamored with the hijab — but as a non-Muslim, questioned the right to wear it. It’s a very nice post and the discussion it generated was extremely interesting.
December 3, 2010 at 12:25 pm
I wish my mum had been so understanding. When I was a kid and tried to bundle myself up in a chador, she tolerated it, but she certainly didn’t encourage me to find out more about Islamic beliefs or to try to understand the meaning behind it.
Later, when I was veiling, she treated me very much like a leper. It’s weird, too, because my mom is a very understanding, tolerant woman, but apparently that was beyond the pale for her.
December 4, 2010 at 10:48 am
Sorry to hear that. It was the same with my mom when I converted. But now, alhamdulillah she’s OK with my hijab.
I think for some because hijab is such a visible declaration of faith that it can become offensive/scary/different and seen as a personal attack. I know for my mom, seeing me in hijab was a constant reminder that I had rejected my upbringing (no matter how irreligious it was) and she took it as me rejecting her and her culture.
Moms tend to daydream about the future of their children from day one, and usually converting to a “strange and foreign” religion isn’t in the list 🙂
December 3, 2010 at 7:15 am
Oh mash’Allah she looks so adorable in those pictures!!!!!!!
You know…I’ve got cousins UNDER 8 whose parents have them wearing hijab…and I just try to stay out of any debate with them and support them as wonderful cousins whose beliefs are not always understood by all in our family. But I do get terribly upset when a Russian uber pious family covers their female babies’ heads at church (like UNDER 1 year old). Especially because it is not a tradition in the Korean Orthodox church. It’s easier for me to distance myself when it is not my religion, but when I see it in my own place of worship…not impressed.
December 3, 2010 at 12:10 pm
Great article. As an American convert to Islam, wearing the headscarf was a mental and spiritual process for me, and as the mom of 2 girls ages 8 and 9, I want them to be mentally and spiritually ready and willing to wear the headscarf, insha’Allah. I refuse to force it. I once had a well-meaning sister tell me that because my girls have such beautiful hair that I should be covering it! I thanked her for the compliment!!!??? and me and my lovely daughters continued our shopping.
December 4, 2010 at 10:52 am
Heh. I always love it when people emphasize how extra beautiful and lovely a girl looks when she puts on hijab during the prayer. Even suggesting that she looks so good, she should just keep in on!
I think your girls will benefit from having your openness and support insha’Allah.
December 28, 2010 at 2:29 pm
[…] looks SUPER cute in her hijab. Her mama might be pretty great […]
January 7, 2011 at 1:13 am
If I were sitting across the dining table, sharing a meal of whatever cultural persuasion was fitting for the occasion, and sharing our mutual intellectualism, I would feel empowered to ask you the following question, out of respect and, well, love…
What if, for argument’s sake, Eryn decided to not only NOT practice hijab, but to explore, and even practice something else, say, Judaism or Christianity or Buddhism? Not just get the Just Visiting card, but to actually take up residence…I’m not saying she will; her foundation is so strong and her support system open. But what if?
January 8, 2011 at 10:00 pm
You know, I was wondering when someone was going to ask that.
I’d like to think that the future me is as idealistic and transparent as the present me. I’ve often thought of this question, and like to believe that I would be as supportive as my family has been with my conversion. That’s not to say we never had any bumps along the way, or still have disagreements over religious politics. It took a year (more) of me trying to explain to my parents why I love Islam.
I’d like to think that if Eryn ever decided to explore other faiths on a full-time basis, I’d be there to support her as long as her intentions were good and she could put in the time to explain things to me.
Some religions would be easier than others — Buddhism lends itself well to other religions, so she could practice both and become a Buddhislamic monk 😉 Judaism or Christianity would be more difficult, because she’d be rejecting belief in the Prophet. But I’m sure we’d work through it.
Now, ask me what I would do if she put on niqaab and wanted to be someone’s second wife. Poor kid could be a Goth, a punk, a prep, shave her head or even a hipster and not phase me. But niqaab would be a bitter pill to swallow because I don’t believe it’s in any way a remote requirement.
There’s the fear though, that if she rejects Islam, she may reject her family in the process. And I think that if she took a stance where she converted to a belief that encouraged her to break ties with her family, because we are heathens/unbelievers, I’ll have a huge problem with this and work hard to maintain ties with her.
That said, if she were convinced in her belief and thought that the path she was on brought her closer to God, and she was truly happy (safe and not being harmed by herself or another) — then of course I would support her.
January 27, 2011 at 2:23 am
I was quite taken aback when my 13-year-old daughter appeared in the kitchen one morning at the start of the new school year wearing hijab. Inwardly I fretted that she was too young, that she’d have to answer too many questions, that family and friends would quietly assume we had insisted on it; but if I discouraged her because of her youth, would I be taking her on a path further from her Lord – but she explained very matter-of-factly that she felt convinced the time had come and I had been a “cool” example (ok, more pressure then) – and so, with a big squeeze and moist eyes I sent her off to school, watching her stride determinedly into uncertainty … and I prayed.
At 15 she went through grunge (hijab was a bandanna), at 16 she was a tomboy (caps) and goth-chic at 17 (only black hijabs). She’s nearly 21 now, a confident young woman, social activist-cum-engineering student, very comfortable in her own skin, and completely committed to her faith. When I think back, that first school day was probably a “standing moment”, for both of us – and I am eternally grateful to the One giving us both courage that day.
January 27, 2011 at 11:54 am
What an absolutely beautiful story. Thank you so much for sharing it. I’ll be thinking about your daughter if the day ever comes for Eryn!
March 15, 2011 at 3:34 pm
[…] First, there was an overwhelming amount of male main characters – and every female character was in hijab. All. the. time. Even at home when it’s traditionally not worn. I laughed when I noticed that all of the mother characters got to change clothes, but never removed their hijab – as if the illustrators found the idea sacrilegious to show mama going to bed in anything but her dressing gown and full hijab. And while I understand that Islamic books for children are attempting to present Islamic concepts and cultures as a norm for children, I don’t agree that it’s necessary to illustrate pre-schoolers in hijab. […]
March 15, 2011 at 7:14 pm
I got here via your piece on Islamic children’s books, and I adore your writing style, your explanation of the meaning behind the hijab (I’m not Islamic, and didn’t know anything about the significance and symbolism of it), and how adorable your daughter is.
Thank you for sharing your experiences and knowledge. 🙂
February 11, 2012 at 5:06 pm
I wish my parents had thought like you did! I agree with every word.
I had my period when i was about 12, and from that day on I wasn’t allowed to go outside without a hijab and proper clothing. It was a huge hit to my already low self esteem.And it had been a 3 years now but i still have anxiety panics when i’m in crowded places and try to avoid talking to people. And back then, I didn’t even LOOK like a woman. Short, skinny comlpetely flat chested but yea…even though my parents don’t even look like those forcing kinda people, but they forced me for my own good. But i guess in the future i will thank them for it since their thinking about my own good 🙂 Great post
April 23, 2012 at 10:00 am
[…] of oppression and symbol of protest. I’ve worn my hijab to rock concerts, agonized over my daughter’s hijab, and cheered on hijabi boxers. Hijab is cultural, national, political, spiritual, and very, very […]
April 24, 2012 at 8:15 am
Wow! I have to say that I don’t know much about the hijab but I was always curious as to why I often saw mothers wearing it and not their young daughters. I loved reading this! Thank you.
August 9, 2012 at 1:36 pm
children should not wear hijab. It breaks my heart when I see little girls wearing a hijab and all covered up in 35 degree weather. Horrible. And to thoses who write its so cute to see a baby/toddler in hijab I say its just as bad as toddlers in tiaras. They are babies!
November 6, 2012 at 4:45 am
You must be the first hijabi, who thinks like a de-jabi. Love all your blogs!
November 6, 2012 at 7:59 am
Interesting! I never thought of it like that. And thanks 🙂
September 9, 2013 at 7:28 pm
I also came across your blog through your post on Islamic children’s books on phdparenting and absolutely love the message you are trying to share.
I am a born Muslim and started wearing the hijab from the age of 5. I wasn’t forced to wear it
But obviously I didn’t understand at all the real spirituality behind it which is why I had continuous struggles with it as part of my identity while growing up. I continued to wear it until high school and then took it off secretively many times. I still wore it ‘to keep up appearances’ most of the time and I hated myself, had lot of lows in confidence and body image.
Finally last year (I am now in my early 20s), I took it off completely and made a definite stand about it. My main reason was, I was barely a practicing believing muslim while I wore it, so I was wearing a lie, I didnt have real faith, I didnt WANT to wear the scarf, I wasnt wearing it for the reasons given. It felt like the right thing to do. And I don’t regret it ever, because it freed me.
I still wore it to the mosque as I felt that was respectful and also tried to wear it to and from work in Ramadan as I felt it that it was respectful then too, it would give me some sort of penace/reward from Allah if that makes sense)
I also felt more easier about following my religion. I went through a lot of ups and downs, strayed away from Islam numerous times, but I just felt that I wasn’t so trapped, and that I had a clearer idea of my faith, and not feeling like I had to follow someone elses idea of it. I was able to explore it more.. It also got me into debates with other about hijab, because I was so open about the reasons why, because to be honest there was a part of me that judged others who didnt wear the scarf while I was ‘forced’ to. When I stopped wearing it I felt like I was on the other side of the fence, I could feel how the non-hijabis felt. And it made me stronger, because I was fairly open about it, I made my reasons clear, though a fair few didnt really get it.
My mother, I love her very much, I don’t think has ever truly understood my reason for taking it off, though she tried her best to be patient with me. I think part of her realised that she didnt explain it to me well enough when I was younger, and never realised how I felt I had trapped myself into something I didnt fully make the choice to do. But she continued hinting that I should start again, when she didnt have arguments which ended with a flat out no from me. Her reasoning was that she didnt want me to go to hell. I think this wasnt guilt tripping really she truly wanted me to, not for her sake but for Allah’s sake.
I did in my heart feel though that I would like to wear it again someday but I had started to enjoy experimenting with clothes and feeling ‘sexy’, to be truthful. I had started to be so much more confident and realise I could be attractive, and the idea of wearing a scarf full time was scary. I still had issues with hijab, I felt ugly (that was my perception at the time anyhow). I knew that if I did wear it (outside of the mosque) it would HAVE to be full time, since to me it was one or the other. I didnt want to be wavering with something like that, it wouldnt feel right.
Just this Ramadan I decided to wear it again, with the intention of doing it for the sake of Allah and hoping that I would be able to continue after, but not making any promises to myself that I wouldnt be able to keep! I really love how Ramadan made it so easy 🙂
I wore it outside, to the mosque and to and from work. The only place I didnt was work itself, but I weaned myself into wearing it inside workplace just before starting my shift and making myself comfortable with bieng seen with it on in front of work colleagues and strangers alike. It was hard, and truth be told I had times when I hated it.
Alhamdullillah I made the decision to wear it full time from then on, I kind of made it my mission to find a way to be happy with my appearance in a hijab. I looked online and was pretty serious about hijab fashion. I know the main reason for hijab is modestly, but I feel that our confidence in how we look is important too!
I think it definitely sunk in when I made the decision to wear it within work, and now its just been going really well from there on, I love wearing hijab and sometimes dont want to take it off at home haha, I feel much more comfortable in it, its definitely a part of my identity and really helps me be more aware of my faith, as opposed to hating it before. I still have my down days but that is part of life 🙂
I have friends who dont wear it and practice, those who dont do either, and those who do but don’t and those who do both. I feel like no one is judgable in that sense except Allah, and I realise that I probably wouldnt have thought that way if I hadnt taken my scarf off and chosen to wear it again myself.
I realise this is a loooong comment! Please forgive me!
I’ll be sharing you’re blog with my friends, because its pretty inspiring and forward thinking. I think you put into words perfectly about the negative aspects of hijab, which are put by society, I hope that when I am a mum, inshaallah, I can use your insight in guiding my children.
Jannah xx
Wow Im sorry just realised how much Ive written!