Hijabi for a Day

“Growing up in America has been such a blessing…And, you know, although in some ways I do stand out, such as the hijab I wear on my head, the head covering, there’s still so many ways I feel so embedded in the fabric that is our culture. That’s the beautiful thing here, is that I doesn’t matter where you come from. There are so many people from so many different places, of different backgrounds and religions. But here we’re all one, one culture.”- Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha

Author’s note: The tragic killings of three young Syrian Americans in North Carolina occurred as this piece was going to publication. I would like to dedicate this to the memory of Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha and Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha, as well as Yusor’s husband Deah Barakat.

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February 1 was World Hijab Day. It is an event started by a young Muslim woman who experienced harassment for wearing a hijab. World Hijab Day, according to its website, is not a religious event, but a movement to raise awareness and invite both non-Muslim women and Muslim women who do not typically wear the traditional Muslim head covering to try wearing one for a day.

Before a friend of mine told me about Hijab Day, I’d actually considered wearing one from time to time, but I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. I don’t have any cultural connection to the hijab. (I’m Chinese American of Presbyterian and Confucian heritage.) However, I know people who appear Muslim (whether because they are of Middle Eastern heritage, or just conform to ignorant stereotypes of what “those people” look like) are vulnerable to hate crimes and public acts of bigotry and discrimination. I wondered if I wore a hijab, as someone who is not Muslim, if it would draw out any of the trolls and whether I should try it to walk in another’s shoes, or just out of sheer contrariness.

Once I felt like I’d actually been invited to wear a hijab, I did a little research, reading some of the personal stories on the Hijab Day site and in the media. Intellectually I understand the argument that a woman should (or would want to) be valued for characteristics other than her looks, or want to send the message that her beauty is reserved for her family and her partner, but it doesn’t resonate emotionally. This is in part because I read an implicit message in the doctrinal explanations that a woman’s “beauty” or physical appearance is “property” in a manner different than that of men. Also, while I did only brief research on the modest attire guidelines for men prescribed by Islam, they appear to be less comprehensive and less focused on hair and face than those for women. I’m also well aware that there are many places where restrictive attire is used as an instrument of oppressive public control of women and wearing a hijab (or burqa or similar garment) in particular is involuntary is some countries.

However, there is plenty of justified criticism of European and North American feminists, and feminists coming from a “Western,” or Christian, industrialized society perspective, that they don’t respect the differing experiences of other women, particularly women of color, Islamic women, and women from the developing world. For me, that means if a woman says that wearing a hijab is a personal expression of her faith, who am I to question it? And I am unambiguously opposed to women, men, or anyone else being critiqued, attacked, or condescended to by random people in public solely for wearing a hijab or any other ethnic or religious attire. So I decided I was going to wear a hijab for a day.

Here’s what I had to do:

• Figure out how to wear it. There are plenty of instructional pictures and videos on the internet. I live in a large urban area where I see hijabi women regularly (young, stylish women as well as more middle aged mamas like me), so I had an idea of what sort of “look” I liked.
• Find a suitable fabric. Fortunately, I had a small silk scarf and a large silk scarf handy. The style that seemed to work best for me (secure, comfortable) is more what is called “al-amira”: a band (the small scarf) across the forehead and a looser scarf over the top.
• Decide what to wear it with. I got out of bed on Sunday and put on the first thing handy, a classic Portland mom outfit: sporty short skirt over leggings. I worried that wearing what was essentially a mini skirt might be blasphemous and reflect poorly on people who wear a hijab as an expression of faith-based modesty.
• Plan how I was going to wear it. I think I needed to wear it in the house with just my husband and kids present, but then we decided to take the kids swimming. Many Muslim women do not go swimming unless there is a women-only facility available. It would defeat the point to take it off and I didn’t want to wear it over wet hair when I got out of the pool. I ended up doing my own Hijab Day on Monday, February 2.

On Monday I took my older children to school, did errands on foot in my (mostly white and Hispanic, mixed income) neighborhood. I took my youngest into the Latin grocery for an ice cream bar, went to the Safeway for bread and milk, and returned books to the library. No one said anything, and as far as I could tell, no one stared unusually long at me. When I was at home, returning phone calls and emails, I kept the hijab on. I did wonder what I would have done if I had needed to go to a client meeting. I felt a bit sheepish having a beer with dinner.

I’m not sure how long I would have to wear the hijab to get to the point that I didn’t think about it. I was certainly conscious of it all day. Perhaps the exercise of being in someone else’s shoes (or scarf) all day calls for that kind of awareness. I will admit to being grateful I have a choice. No one with legal authority or emotional power over me will pass moral judgment on me for not covering my head, and if someone was passing judgment on me for doing so, they didn’t express it publicly. I had be thoughtful about certain of my choices in a way that isn’t usually necessary for me.

I was much less troubled by the fact that it covered my ears than I expected to be; in fact, the silk scarf was sort of warm and cozy. It didn’t interfere with using the phone. I rather regret not trying to use it as a hands-free mechanism for my cell phone, as I saw a woman doing outside my office a couple of years ago. I think that would require a knit fabric with a bit of spandex. Perhaps I will try that next year.

Header image credit: World Hijab Day