Filed under: Struggle for My Soul | Tags: abdelnabi, asma khalid, bayan, Bayan Hassaballa, blogging, Eman, fat, headscarf, hijab, islam, kindness, koran, lifting the veil, metra, muslim, npr, rasmieyh, research, scarf, veil
So my original post responding to the NPR piece called Lifting the Veil, which talked about why women chose to remove the veil or dejab as I like to call it, garnered a lot of attention and a lot of comments. I’m still catching up on them as we speak.
Before I begin though, there are a few things I need to clear up. First of all it was inappropriate for me to Rasmieyh’s opinion BS. Even though I still don’t agree, that’s not best way to start a dialogue with someone. I’ve actually reached out to her and apologized privately, but also would like to apologize publicly as well. I am sorry for using language as such, and should have used more appropriate words to express my disagreement.
Secondly, reducing her research to a Google search was also unfair and untrue. I’m actually very interested to see her research, so I can be better schooled in the subject.
That does not change how I feel about the piece or that I disagree with the opinion. If there is a minority opinion in Islam that says that hijab is not required, than that’s what it is, a minority opinion. But it cannot over shadow the majority opinion that says it is required. But I really need to research the matter more deeply myself.
My beloved teacher, Dr. Umar Faruq Abd-Allah says very beautifully and eloquently in this four-part (this is the fourth part, but the first three are linked at the top) piece on altmuslima, “The scarf must be nothing but an item of clothing. We cannot blow it up and conflate into the scarf issue all these other things.” This was the point I was trying to make. Someone objected to my shoe analogy, but I stand by it because we never talk about whether or not to wear a shoe (or clothes for that matter) but the discussion centers around how. But we still need to be wearing them.
Dr. Umar also said that the four schools all require the headscarf. He also cautioned against using the word hijab because it means something so different than that thing I wear on my head. Please read his interview.
One comment on the earlier piece said that I should be for justice for all, and never did I say I wasn’t, but what I didn’t want to defend against was my right to cover because of my belief that God said I have to.
The reason that I used to the word sympathize rather than empathize, is because honestly, that’s not something I struggle with. My struggles are internal and they are just as difficult as the struggle that someone has with the headscarf, but my struggles aren’t as public as the struggle with whether to cover or not.
I have had moments when I’ve been sick of wearing a scarf, like when I used to take Metra. I would be on a packed train, and had gotten there early enough to get a seat alone. I never sat upstairs because I’m also an overweight person and those chairs were not comfy for a big girl like me, and I never took more than my half of the seat. Countless people (mostly white) would walk right past my seat even though there were no other seats on the train or they would opt to sit on the stairs. That hurt. Let’s say I decided to take off my hijab. What does that change? I’m still fat, brown and likely not going to have people sit next to me, because I decided why they didn’t sit next to me. That may not have been the truth, even though it was my truth.
I didn’t write this response to my response to defend myself; I don’t need to, but I just want to make sure that it was clear that I did not mean to single out Rasmieyh, and I wanted to clarify a few more points.
This is an issue that needs more voices from both sides of the veil, and we need to be able to have an honest and respectful dialogue about it. I definitely will be writing more about it, since no one cares why Taylor Swift makes me cry. :)
Filed under: Struggle for My Soul | Tags: headscarf, hijab, islam, lifting the veil, muslim, npr, scarf, women
I just recently celebrated my 20th year wearing hijab. I started wearing hijab when I was in sixth grade. It was Friday, April 5th, 1991. My mom was trying to convince us to go to Islamic School so we visited Universal for the day. To attend the school, we had to cover. I had no plans of wearing hijab; I always wanted to start after high school. I used to say that I wanted to have my chance of doing my hair and wearing make-up before I started hijab. But after we left the school for the day, it felt so comfortable that I told my mom that I wanted to keep wearing it, just to try it out. Like I said, it felt so comfortable, that I forgot I was wearing it, until I saw myself in the glass of a shop. I startled myself because I didn’t realize it was me in the window. Later that evening, I told my mom that I had decided to wear it full time. My mom worried that it might be too much, and told me that if I wanted to just wear it in and around the community I could, but I didn’t have to wear it to school. I told her that if that was the case, then there was no point in wearing it. It was all or nothing for me.
I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. This was right smack in the middle of the school year and it was by far one of the toughest school years to date. I had a hard time making friends, and the friends that I did have weren’t in my class, so the only time I saw them was during recess. That meant that the prospects for partners on projects were very low, and I was usually paired up with the person who couldn’t secure a partner, and maybe our class was an odd number, so the teacher would shop me around to other groups to make a group of three. So you’d think I’d think about my decision and its effect on my already low social status. But I went ahead and started wearing hijab, and the reaction wasn’t so bad. It didn’t help or hurt my social status, but it lead me in a new direction in my life.
Jump about ten and a half years later to September 11, 2001 and Islam was on the forefront and not in a good way. We all remember what it was it was like. I remember gathering all my cousins that day from UIC and heading home, and at that time we all were in hijab. My cousin’s grandmother, a white Christian, left her a message telling her to take off her bonnet because it was too dangerous. Thankfully, we were able to laugh it off because our lives were not in danger. We went to a school that was diverse and reached out to us, asking us if the MSA needed anything. The MSA set up a plan of action to make sure people were escorted when needed and we never felt like we were in any sort of danger. And this is when it started.
Just as the sentiments of Grandma Betty, lots of girls started taking off their “bonnets”. We started hearing that religious scholars were permitting it. There was a lot of confusion, fear and knee-jerk reactions to what was happening.
As I said confusion was everywhere, and I remember the sense of relief when Shaykh Abdullah bin Bayyah issued this fatwa that basically said if one fears for their life, they should stay home and not go out and if they must then they should cover in the most inconspicuous way possible, by way of a cap or hat, never did he say it was okay to stop wearing the hijab. We’ll come back to that later…but think about what that means.
Jump another 10 years to this week and I’m on Facebook. I see this link and it’s been shared several times. It’s starting to go viral on FB. So I give it a listen and then I was glad I was delayed in writing my hijab post. So here goes nothing or everything.
I have always thought that hijab was given too much emphasis. And I think this is what messed things up for us with respect to hijab. But before I get into this, I’d really like to address the NPR piece.
The first person they talked about is Rasmieyh Abdelnabi who mentioned that she “had done [her] research” and realized that hijab is an expression of Arab culture. I have two letters for that: BS. I’m sorry, I respect your decision to unveil for whatever reason you had, but please don’t malign my religion along with your decision. If it was Arab culture, then as one of my heroes said, paraphrasing, if hijab wasn’t required why is there an iteration of it in every Muslim culture throughout history. Whether it’s in West Africa, Indonesia, Muslim Spain or South East Asia, there was ALWAYS some expression of hijab, even if it didn’t resemble what we know today. Remember what I said about Shaykh bin Bayyah, even when safety is an issue, stay inside or wear a baseball cap, but dejabbing, as I call it, is never made halal. But that doesn’t mean you can’t dejab. That’s between you and God, and it’s not for us to meddle in what personal decisions you make, but you can’t say it’s not a part of the religion. I’m saying that for your own sake. In the same way we tell people to not make haram what was made halal; don’t make halal what God made haram. It’s not that you’re questioning God’s will, as you said, actually you’re going against 1400 plus years of scholarship that you undid with a simple Google search (Post Script Correction: Rasmieyh had written a paper in her master’s program). Because had you properly researched you would not have come to that conclusion. I have more respect for someone who says that it was a burden they couldn’t bear, rather than they shed their responsibility and try to say that it’s not a part of Islam.
Speaking to the point of representing the community when you’re in hijab, I agree that it feels that way, but that’s an internal feeling that has been turned into an external reality. That is where I think people who think that way are dead wrong. Yes the way I look communicates a lot about who I am. But it’s UBER important for me to take control over that communication to make sure that I communicate who I am. I was just complaining to someone that I feel like my hijab communicates something about me that I am not. I am not conservative, I am not religious, and I am not a prude. I’m just a regular girl who loves cheeseburgers and social media. For me the solution is to not take it off, but to redefine what my hijab looks like. It’s a stereotype like all the other stereotypes that are out there. How do we combat stereotypes? Not by taking the issue off the table altogether. I’m glad Rasmieyh stays silent, because honestly and with all due respect, when it comes to what the religion says about hijab, she’s got it all wrong. Although speaking to NPR isn’t really staying silent. Back to my other point about hijab in the first place.
I hear people say: when I’m ready, I’ll wear hijab. Ready? What the heck does that mean? No one told us, inshaAllah when you’re ready you’ll start praying or fasting, or not stealing, or not lying. I really think that’s what gave us a hijomplex (do I need to explain that?). People think well, I’m not religious enough to wear the headscarf. When I get there, then I’ll wear it. Get where exactly ya mama? This isn’t Mario Bros, and when you get to level 8, you’re a good enough Muslim to wear the hijab. It’s just any other obligation among the numerous other obligations that as a Muslim we choose to take on. Oh and about it being a choice.
Yes America, it is a choice. I made a conscious decision to cover and if I were to dejab it would also be a conscious decision. But the choice is in whether or not I choose to observe a part of my religion or not. It’s really very simple.
So thinking that one has to reach a certain level to wear hijab creates a problem. I’m not good enough, or I’m a horrible person and I don’t want to make Islam look bad, so I’ll just dejab. We all think we are horrible people, but that doesn’t mean we are. If we thought we were spectacular, then we’d have a bigger issue on our hands. So one of the things that we have to do is change the way we look at hijab. I wish we’d give prayer the same emphasis that we give to hijab. I think our community would be in a better place if we did. Bring hijab down a couple of notches people. To me wearing hijab is like wearing shoes, it’s something I have to do. I can wear heels , sandals, flip-flops or loafers, but I just gotta do it, because walking barefoot could be an option but it will hurt me and society.
I do want to say this: I, by no means, am judging people for dejabbing, nor am I looking down on anyone who decides to make that decision. On the contrary, I have the utmost sympathy for anyone who has to make that decision, as the NPR piece said, “the choice to unveil is highly private, emotional and religious.” I agree with that and I’m so thankful that’s not an issue for me . And I think it should be portrayed that way. But what’s happening is some people, not all, are taking their own feelings about their decision and projecting it back on Islam, or as a defense mechanism saying in essence I did nothing wrong by dejabbing, actually there’s no proof hijab is required in Islam. Why?
Because when you take your scarf off, it only makes it so much harder for us to step out into the world with hijab on, not only do I have to defend my right to practice my religion the way that I want, but now I have to defend your right too. It’s a disservice to the religion when you don’t take ownership of your actions. And that’s a burden I should not have to bear.
Thanks to @angie_em, Asad Jaleel and Maie Seif for your feedback and critique.
