on hijab

disclaimer: this is merely my experience with wearing hijab and therefore my opinions alone. i don’t claim that this is what every hijabi goes through or feels. nor am i saying the way i wear hijab is perfect or i am perfect. far! from! it! but i just thought i’d share the few things that i’ve learned along the way because you’d be surprised how much a piece of fabric can teach you about yourself and what you are capable of. 

from what i remember, the period of time leading up to my decision to wear hijab didn’t contain a lot of back and forth or inner turmoil. i do remember, however, that my mom had started to wear hijab a year or two earlier. too young to be interested in pressing her for her motives, i just watched. 

seeing my mom put on hijab and how it made everything that everyone loved about her - her conviction, quiet strength, and selflessness - all the more apparent, made me start to think. i knew i wanted to wear hijab at some point. i’ve known since i tried to wear it in 2nd grade only to take it off the second i got to school. i took it off that day, promising that one day i would be ready again and that i wouldn’t ever take it off after that. 

i started wearing hijab when i was 13, the summer before 7th grade. that was more so a test run. i spent Ramadan in the safety of my Muslim community and i only really saw my cousins on vacation. i wore hijab on that vacation and despite my cousins not being Muslim, i was warmly received (to this day, they are still some of my biggest supporters). as the summer came to an end and i had to decide whether or not i wanted to start wearing hijab at school, i finally began to debate with myself. the only line of logic that i remember was “if not now, will i ever?”

even back then, i knew my limits. more accurately, i knew my weaknesses. i figured i would grow comfortable not wearing hijab, become too concerned about what my friends would think if i suddenly put it on, and ultimately, that i would enjoy my high school experience so much as a *normal* girl that i would never want to put hijab on afterwards. 

(notice that there was a considerable lack of spirituality in this decision making process, i’ll get back to that later). 

so i picked out my first day of school hijab, laid it out with the rest of my outfit, and i didn’t look back as i walked out the door the next morning. 

but i left quite a big detail, as well as how it significantly it might actually affect me, out of my reasoning - i was the only hijabi, the only visibly Muslim person, in my school, if not my school district, from the moment i put it on to the moment i graduated high school. 

everyone always talks about representation this, representation that, and how representation is important. but as for most things in life, you don’t ever realize how important it is until you don’t have it. i’m not going to say i didn’t have friends in high school or even that i was unpopular, but i was lonely. i had no one to share this incredibly special part of me, which made me feel like it wasn’t that special. no more special than the shirt that i had decided to wear that day. on top of that, being the only visible Muslim in a place that lacked representation, it meant that all questions/concerns/grievances/disagreements fell on me. it’s not what i signed up for and definitely not a responsibility i wanted, especially during a time where Islamophobia and xenophobia were on the rise. it felt like a burden and i was overwhelmed. my mental health took a toll, consequently my personal life took a toll. and to top it all off, my spiritual life wasn’t doing so hot either. i began to resent Islam for the inconvenience that hijab had caused me and the role it demanded of me. i was tired. 

i was so tired of hearing that i was the first Muslim anyone had ever seen, met, or been friends with. it made me feel like i was some odd rarity to be either paraded as a token or handled with caution, in extreme cases, with distaste. but as frustrated as i was about having to answer everyone’s questions - i knew the danger of giving a wrong answer. so reluctantly, i did my research. i learned more about Islam. answered questions with increasing confidence along with better sources. and as i saw my non-Muslim friends, the same ones who had never even seen a Muslim beyond Fox News, slowly begin to love me for all that i am, as i saw them stand up for me and respect my beliefs - the burden didn’t feel so heavy anymore. 

and so i decided that if i was going to stand out, i was going to make it count. and boy did it feel like i made it count when i got on stage at my high school graduation, the only hijabi in the room besides my family and friends, and gave the commencement speech in the most yee-haw town you ever did see. (literally. just look up College Station, Texas). 

a lot of talk about hijab, both internally and with other people, comes down to fear. fear of discrimination, fear of not being safe, fear of the limitations hijab might impose both in professional and private life. for me, i was scared that wearing hijab would prevent me from “being myself”, or at least my fullest extent of self. i wouldn’t be able to be as bold or carefree. or have as much fun. or simply be able to make mistakes without scrutiny. but in reality, this fear is not something that comes with hijab or Islam, it’s something that comes with my own self-doubt. it’s hijab that has helped me be bold because i have had to stand up for something bigger than myself. it’s hijab that has helped me be carefree because i know only God can judge me. it’s hijab that has helped me accept my mistakes and grow from them because i know that God is Most-Forgiving and Most-Merciful. and most importantly, there is nothing to fear when He is with me. 

in order to make my life wearing hijab worthwhile, i had to let go of this imposter syndrome that i had begun to associate with hijab. i had to let go of imposter syndrome. period. 

alas, seasons of life move on and before i knew it, i found myself in college and the confidence i had been riding on towards the end of high school was dying out. the presence of Muslim and hijabi representation in college definitely helped. i found a sense of community where my hijab wasn’t the first thing that was seen. 

but the existential crisis that comes with entering college as well as an accumulation of mistakes that i made in my first few months extinguished whatever was left of my confidence, sense of purpose, and faith. i struggled a lot in my transition to college. i lost sight of the girl i thought i was as she began to compromise more and more in an attempt to find her footing. and eventually, i began to believe that i wasn’t worthy of wearing hijab. i thought not wearing it might relieve some of the guilt i felt. those few months were the closest i had ever been to taking it off, ever. 

remember how i pointed out earlier that when i started thinking about wearing hijab, my decision lacked any semblance of faith? even in high school, my intentions were somewhat clouded and self-serving. not having the right intention set me up for failure, even if that failure was years down the line. in college, i decided that i would try to find Islam again. not to find answers for others, but for myself - to renew my intentions as to why i choose to wear hijab and why i choose to be Muslim. and by the Grace of Allah, it’s where i am today. 

i am faithful, but not because others see me as someone who should be faithful due to the fact that i wear hijab. i am grateful for what hijab has taught me in strength, patience, intention, and beauty. i am confident that whatever doors are closed or whoever does not want to be a part of my life because i wear hijab isn’t because of the scarf - but because Allah wants better for me. 

there are days that i don’t love wearing hijab. and i’m sure any hijabi girl will tell you how hard it is to cover up a fresh cut, new highlights, or just a good hair day. on some days, all the old insecurities come flooding back and those days are hard. but even on days that i don’t love it, even on hard days,i have learned not to be ashamed of my hijab, of my past, or of myself. hijab hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it. 

i’m sure, with the next season of life and its challenges, i will have to renew my intentions and reground my spirituality. but until then, enjoy your hijab tans this summer ladies, those are true battle scars.