The conversation began when I asked the young woman helping me with my groceries if I could assume from her headscarf she is Muslim. Caution flitted across her face as I continued, “Does it offend you that my hair is uncovered?” The look of relief on her face was palpable, “Not at all. I used to dress exactly like you.”
That brief encounter made me realize I had more questions, probably uninformed white suburban, yet feminist, mom questions.
My search for answers led me to Masjid Omar bin Abdul Aziz, a mosque and Islamic school, in Lilburn. There I met Maryam Jaber and Casey Stockbridge. I also engaged in a conversation with my daughter’s college friend, Madeline. The young woman asked that I not use her last name because she’s been harassed in the past. She doesn’t mind lending her voice, however, because she really believes that if more people understood her faith, they’d realize we’re more alike than different.
Each woman has a different story. Madeline wore a hijab until about a year ago. She decided to do so while attending an Islamic private school as a child. It has always been her choice. Her parents, her school, not even her mosque required the head covering. In fact, her father was initially opposed.
Casey chose to wear a headscarf when she converted to Islam about two years ago. Maryam, born to parents from Pakistan who immigrated to California, has worn a hijab since third grade.
Collectively, these women wear a hijab as a form of personal modesty and as a symbol and reminder of their Islamic faith. I can equate their modesty with my own choice to wear skirts long enough to avoid putting myself at risk of unwanted attention. My symbol of faith is a cross I wear around my neck.
Each woman was friendly, unguarded and eager to answer my questions. Casey spoke of a feeling of vulnerability without a hijab. She said without it she fears unwanted attention that could distract her from concentrating on more important matters than her appearance.
Frankly, their attire seems to be liberating to them in some ways. Because their clothing covers them loosely from head to toe, they don’t worry if every hair is in place, if a bulge is visible, or their skirt long enough. There was never a suggestion they wear this clothing as a political statement.
We went on to cover some general questions of independence. These Muslim women are encouraged to have an education and work outside the home if they choose. Of course they drive. Divorce is a right and women can initiate a divorce if all efforts to resolve conflict cannot be resolved. As U.S. citizens they will vote in this next election.
Just as with my own faith, children are considered a blessing from God and are highly cherished. Birth control is allowed if a woman’s health is at risk.
Each woman had essentially the same response when asked what she wants non-Muslims to know about her. “I’m not oppressed. I’m not forced to dress this way and I’m happily married. Don’t think of me as a scary person. Come talk to me and get to know me,” Maryam said.
I would encourage others to reach out past their fear and ask questions, even the stereotypical or prejudicial ones, with an open heart and willingness to learn and share. Otherwise, how will we ever truly understand each other?
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