Word from a Cover Girl

I'm a cover girl, but you won't see me applying long-lash mascara or jumping in front of a soft filtered camera, or draped over a tiger-striped couch in the middle of a high-profile photographer's studio. I'm a cover girl in the most technical sense of the word, because my cover is called the hijab.

I haven’t always covered. After I reverted to Islam, I had begun to collect excuses for why I wasn’t wearing the hijab. I would tell myself things like, “I grew up in a western country. It’s not in my culture, so it’s hard for me.” Or, “If I knew more sister Muslims then I would feel more comfortable wearing the hijab.”

I had been used to blending in my whole life, following trends and copying the latest styles. In wearing the hijab, I had feared getting rude comments and glares from people who had been affected by inaccurate information about Islam. In the beginning, that had been my strongest reason not to wear it.

I had found it easy to dress with modesty. My closet bulged with long skirts and long sleeved, loose fitting blouses and sweaters. In those days, I would drive to mosque, park my car and put my scarf on in the parking lot. Later, as I became more self-conscious about the requirement, I would park a block away, put my scarf on and drive the rest of the way to mosque. I had not wanted anyone from mosque to come to know me as "the one who covers in the parking lot and only for prayer".

I knew that the hijab was not something I was supposed to be ashamed of, but here I was; too embarrassed to wear it as I left my home, and too embarrassed to be seen by my fellow Muslims as someone who does not wear it full time. In the long run, neither of these worries ended up mattering. I embarked on an inner struggle for the next 3 years in putting the opinions of other people aside and making a personal choice that I could feel good about.

I read a book called “Daughters of Another Path: Experiences of American Women Choosing Islam” and found some peace in reading about other women’s experiences with wearing the hijab in the western world. I learned that hijab was more than simply a piece of material; that it had the potential to invoke an amazing response in not only myself but also in others.

One day, I told myself that I wouldn’t be intimidated out of wearing my hijab. “I can take it off at any time if I want to." I reassured myself. My inner struggle with regard to the hijab had ended that day. After 3 years of looking in admiration to the Muslim women who did cover, I decided that if they were strong enough to wear the hijab in America, then I could be too. I didn’t want to give up expressing the values that were important to me just because there is social pressure to assimilate into the status quo.

Now, the hijab is part of my identity. It symbolizes modesty and self-respect in an era that equates a woman’s freedom with a short skirt and low-cut blouse. When I wear the hijab, I am making a statement that I am to be regarded as a person and not an object. The hijab causes me to reflect on the teachings of my faith much more that I would otherwise.

I have listed 2 important experiences during my first few weeks of covering; one negative moment and one positive moment.

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Negative Moment

Three men from work made insulting comments infused with profanity about my scarf and Islam as I waited for the elevator. Though shaken up a bit afterward, I was even more secure in my assertion to wear the hijab. An experience like this is more an indication of their ignorance than Islam or my hijab. I just continue to remind myself of that.

Positive Moment

At work, I entered an elevator in front of another woman who followed behind. As the doors closed she asked, “Are you a Muslim?”. I hesitated, then flashed an uncertain smile. She responded “Masha’Allah!”, which literally means “Whatever God’s will.” Muslims say it to each other when there is something to be complimented. It meant so much to me to encounter a sister Muslim in the workplace. Finally, here was someone who knew what the hijab meant, and understood why I was wearing it.

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Being this kind of cover girl hasn’t pushed me into the limelight, but the limelight wasn’t what I was going for. In the end, after all is said and done, it will not be Islam or my wearing the hijab that will mark the sign of my oppression, but rather the prejudice that is still ever so prevalent toward Muslims. I feel liberated by the hijab.