By I have a few moments I cherish daily, and one of them is placing my headscarf on my head as I control the essence of my beauty. During my day, the sight of beauty around me oscillates as different hues become the forecast of the hour where I become appreciative – obsessed really, with the ways in which basic facial features have been expressed. How bold or subtle features become the ethnic background of someone’s makeup, the hint of a legacy that has been carried out, mixed with their own take of what they have to share with the world.
Every day, I control what I share with the world.
I have been told–indoctrinated–that beauty is in the unknown, as in, the more a woman hides her features, the more likely her beauty is pronounced to the world.
It was hard for me to come to terms with modest wear in a world where I am told there is so much to give from my body, expected from my body, needed from my body.
It was hard for me to come to terms with modest wear in a world where I am told there is so much to give from my body, expected from my body, needed from my body.
Before I was me, I was the clothing I chose to wear. The sheer color of blue jeans became a symbol of crossing dangerous borders, equating myself to those who have always been edifying me of what to cover. Could I finally be like them?
As a Muslim woman, I have little to no control of the way I am being perceived by the world. Time and time again, I am contrived to stand on a pedestal and give sermon in the name of God, my rights, the truth, Islam, and my parents.
As a Muslim woman, I have little to no control of the way I am being perceived by the world.
Time and time again, I was a self-proclaimed Islamic scholar who had to constantly debunk ignorant claims that do not add any depth to my life. Comments like, “Don’t you ever want to wear shorts?” in no means make me want to strip off of my multilayered clothes and don in something more light for your eyes to withstand–to ultimately confine me within your ideal of beauty; that’s not freedom.
Comments like, “Don’t you ever want to wear shorts?” in no means make me want to strip off of my multilayered clothes and don in something more light for your eyes to withstand–to ultimately confine me within your ideal of beauty; that’s not freedom.
Beauty is subjective enough that I can have the right to practice my own interpretation of it.
I see beauty in the way the context of my being is paralleled with what I hide from the world; in other words, the asset to breaking some preconceived notions about me.
There’s beauty in the way people appear to be perpetually shocked from my multifaceted-ness. How I am attuned with the world around me enough to carry a conversation that they would have never expected from me; someone who seems so suppressed by garments that it is almost appalling how it has not impeded my cognitive abilities. There’s beauty in the way “Hijab” turns into “heee-jab,” the precursor of “hoo-job.”
How I am attuned with the world around me enough to carry a conversation that they would have never expected from me; someone who seems so suppressed by garments that it is almost appalling how it has not impeded my cognitive abilities.
There’s also the ugliness of being portrayed as a poster child of oppression.
I understand it is hard being on the end of the spectrum; to be empathetic towards a human being who looks so fettered that you can’t help but internally curse at the man (because it must have been a man) who put her through this purgatory state. They say, “Come see how this poor holy girl submissively accepts the demands of the Islamic patriarchy. Come see how she simply has no power to utter the laden ‘no.'”
There’s also the ugliness of being portrayed as a poster child of oppression.
Disclaimer: I was not forced into this. Yes, there are women who have been, but when have men not pitted our rights to choose against us?
The way in which the world views Muslim women must change. For those who think we have been coerced, forced, manipulated, or tricked into covering in a certain way, you need to know this: We are more than what we wear. Let us practice our right to live in conditions we have set for ourselves. And just so you know, I am grown enough to know what I want.
The way in which the world views Muslim women must change. For those who think we have been coerced, forced, manipulated, or tricked into covering in a certain way, you need to know this: We are more than what we wear. Let us practice our right to live in conditions we have set for ourselves. And just so you know, I am grown enough to know what I want.
Your comments do effect me, because I harbor no ill feelings.
There are times it gets so hot that the only thing that cools me down is the sweat that trickles down my back.
There are times that it is so humid, I can feel my hair starting to frizz under my headscarf.
There are times I do not feel beautiful because of the accumulation of stares and sympathy that sets my body ablaze, but I am simply too tired to react.
There are times I don’t feel I am enough in this world because I am being torn in every direction by those who desperately try to dictate to me what I must be, and how I must dress.
There are times I feel that my, our, beauty is so underrepresented that it is relegated to a nebulous world where we are only allowed to dwell as spectators.
With this confidence I have divulged to the world that I have the potential of being pretty without it disharmonizing the equilibrium I have set myself, that I am enough, beautiful, “unapologetically” me.
I love how my brown contrasts the solid color on my head, as I stray away from bright colors. Why don’t they ever follow it with “But you’re still pretty?”
Why was my pretty always short from being appreciated?
The facile nature of comments like these were unprecedented, because I craved for those who saw beyond my headscarf in a way that didn’t have to be associated with their perception of perfection, for once.
It’s comments like these–or the antithesis–that make Muslim women feel dissuaded because we will never please the general public, who continually make us hate the way we look.
When can we have time to be ourselves for ourselves?
Submitted by Danah Kowdan. You can find her on Twitter at @danahkowdan.
???????????????? well said!