For one day I dressed like a Muslim woman. For one day I felt the oppressive garment, what is known as a combination of the Abaya, Hijab, and Burqa, burden my conscious with the fact that everyone craned their neck to get a look at the “girl in black”. For one day, I got a true taste for what life is like to be the minority, so to speak, in a predominately white population.
Let me clarify, it was not quite an entire day, rather my first few periods, before my journalistic endeavor was cut short; so my story starts:
I woke up early that morning, itching to carry out my task, my statement to others that our lives are so sheltered and our ethnic population so far from diverse at our school. I wanted to show to others that it was just an outfit; I was the same person underneath. The saying brought to mind “don’t judge a book by its cover”.
My outfit of choice, the Abaya, a full body garment made of cotton that drapes from either the shoulders or head, similar to a dress, only longer and fully masking everything but the head. The Hijab, a scarf-like garment that conceals the hair and leaves the face framed, and also the Burqa, a facial veil revealing only the eyes. In addition to add to the traditional conservative nature of the outfit, to show to those of that culture that I was not flaunting the sincerity of the garb, I wore black gloves, black stockings, and black shoes.
“Your eyes are the window to the world,” anonymous; and as that was all that was showing, I hoped that through that window, as facial expressions were pointless behind the veil, I could convey the purpose of my journey.
As I slowly donned my outfit, the reality of what I was carrying out truly frightened me. First the Abaya- Not so bad, bring it on Ponderosa. Show me what you’re made of so I can write all about it! Hmmmm, did I order a size to large? Next the Hijab- My hair!Where did it go? What will my friends think? What will my peers think? Second doubts already? Then the Burqa- What to do? Should I really do it? I know I’ll get laughed at, but…would people hate me? Wait…aren’t those the feelings I’m condemning, why should they feel that way? Oh, and the teasing.
Pushing all of those feelings aside, I took my first steps, baby steps, as a “Muslim” woman.
Even with the slit for my eyes, I felt blinded with each step. For the woman who for religious means chose and are required to wear it every day, I have high regards.
Into the car, and my fate was sealed. Even driving to school, the stares were endless. On to class, and I could feel the piercing glares. Walking through the hallways I swear I could have cleared out an area, even without the plague.
Class was a different story; they actually knew who I was due to my seat. My first mistake. The gossip, good and bad, was endless. Even though I was hindered physically, my senses and emotions were pristine. Being the center-point of attention is not a comfortable place. And to think that what I was wearing is none too common in other countries, mandated even in others.
The questions were also nonstop, always starting with why? At least I had piqued their curiosity and interest, but was I driving home my point?
For some I could tell, they didn’t understand or care to. Others were completely oblivious to the situation, and some were admiring of my efforts. One in particular helped lift me up when I could have passed out from nervous anticipation. I was her “hero”, and even though it was extreme, at least my message could spread through a few.
My second mistake was not obtaining a pass from the principal who had previously okayed my investigative journalism.
On my way to second period, I was stopped by a campus monitor. Uh-Oh. I was ordered to reveal my face, but my resolution was firm. If the principal had said I was clear, then my image would not falter.
After all in countries such as Saudi Arabia, any show of skin other than the eyes or hands, is punishable. In some cases, resulting in death.
I was then told to get a pass from the principal for identification means. No problem, friend/escort in tow, I trumped to the office.
The principal was nowhere to be found,…oops. What next? A vice principal?
My last mistake arose when I did not fight more for my cause. I was told that what I was wearing was against the school dress policy, not to mention a…federal law?
Yet, I had talked to the principal, he said it was okay? I never saw a rule against it! What now?
I took comfort in my resolve to have never removed my dress, but am sorry for not having defended my cause better. I went home to change so as to prevent further conflict.
While waiting to be picked up from the office, few talked to me, and all stared. Another vice principal showed interest in my project, never once mentioning my “improper” ware. Only curiosity, and for once, someone who did not know the person behind the veil, was actually kind.
It was in fact hilarious to see each and everyone do a double take. The smile on my face invisible to them. Two of my teachers whom I spend at least five hours a week with walked right past; that is, after a furtive glance.
Most people I met or who saw me that day were guarded. Was it because they were unsure, didn’t know what to think? One woman summed it all up for me when I struck up a conversation with her, using a word, which surprised and annoyed me. Scared?
After prompting her about her feelings about my garb, but to no avail, I came to my own disturbing conclusion: that our generation has been instilled with a fear and ignorance for other cultures and their customs. Particularly those they are not exposed to on a daily basis, or that are involved with events which they are linked to just for their ethnicity. In my case, what I wore. My hope is that what I have done will expose those hostile feelings, revealing to their owners the absurdity and evil they can bring.
Bitter disappointment consumed me on my way home. After all the work and time I had put into the project, to be cut short so soon. I prayed, and still do today, that it will be the writing of a “Muslim/English” woman that will open the door.
I have come to many conclusions since then to further mine and others understanding of the event that took place. First, what I was wearing was not a dress code violation, or against the federal laws laid down to protect us. From what is posted in each classroom to the school website on the dress code policy, there is no reference to even a facial veil not being allowed.
Rather, it states that it is at the faculty’s discretion to remedy a situation if they see fit and if it is a hazard to students. Since I had permission from the principal, who felt it was okay as to what I would wear, why was it ever an issue? Could it be they were acting off their own beliefs? And if so, isn’t it the teachers and faculty who influence us in order to better us for the rest of our lives? When they allow such said prejudices and stereotypes to influence them while at work, how does it affect our ideals on the subject?
Second, if anything, why would I have not been able to wear the most conservative outfit in the world on a school campus? There was no visible cleavage, no bare midriff showing, and no halter-top involved. Actually the outfit’s intention historically is to stop temptation and enshrine the woman to save her from misadventures before her wedding day.
Lastly, could it have been the color and nature of the outfit? Humans throughout time communicate through speech and writing. What comes naturally, and is communicable through all varying cultures are visible emotions through facial expressions and hand gestures. As my face was not revealed, could that have turned people away?
According to The American Heritage Dictionary, and The Oxford Dictionary, a definition for the color black is, “evil, wicked, characterized by tragedy, disaster, or despair, and full of anger or hatred.” For white, “morally or spiritually pure, fair or generous, decent, and unsullied.”
Could it be that what I was wearing was just too far off the color spectrum?
Stereotypes and prejudices against other cultures have never gotten us anywhere in the past, and aren’t advancing our country to be the “America the Beautiful and Free”, that it proclaims to be. Freedom of hatred, freedom of oppression, and freedom of ignorance for those of every ethnic background is needed to achieve a truly free country.
Such was the case when the groundwork for a mosque in Folsom was proposed and funded. A minority of the population backed their efforts to prevent the “infiltration” of “terrorists” by handing out flyers, and posting negatively on the subject on the forums at MyFolsom.com. Muslims merely wanted a place to worship and pray freely. Why deny them the rights allowed to them through the Bill of Rights?
What surprises me the most is the fact that the ignorant people who were against the proposal, based their thoughts off the less than 1% of the Muslim culture which choose to commit radical acts of violence; they do not represent the majority. So, my question to them is, do they understand the way they effect their children? Do they realize that they are installing in them closed-minded and un-accepting ideas against those who celebrate life differently?
The plan however was approved, and firmly backed by the city’s mayor. Where now, the Muslim minority will be able to have a place of worship, the only one to be found in the stretch from Sacramento to Lake Tahoe.
In my venture, I have learned many life lessons, which I hope I have conveyed through this article. For those who saw me that day, and were unsure or even…afraid? I hope you do realize that I was not trying to pull the wool over your eyes, only making a statement, and one that carries a simple yet important message.
“It is not what’s on the outside, but what is on the inside that counts.”