You know, sometimes I miss being a hijabi. It was like being a part of a sisterhood in a sisterhood. An unspoken bond that only women in hijab will truly understand. The crazy thing is I even miss all the silly questions. At the time, they used to drive me insane or make me feel self-conscious, but now it just makes me laugh at all the ignorance.
My favorite questions were: Do you sleep with that thing in your head? Do you shower with it on? How do you get your hair done? Why do you get your hair done? Those never bothered me; it all stemmed from ignorance. Depending on my mood dictated how sarcastic my response would be. The funny thing was I did feel like I was covering 24/7 as a black Muslimah. I would wear my hijab out during the day, and then at night, going to bed, I’d wear my satin scarf. Regardless, I was still annoyed for being constantly questioned.
On the other hand, the questions that offended me were: Are you forced to cover? Did you get that scarf as an initiation into your terrorist cell? Is that a symbol to show that you’re married? Questions all along those lines. I can’t say it was necessarily the questions that bothered me, but regardless of my response, some people just looked at me with pity. It was always a look like, “this poor girl is oppressed,” the furthest thing from the truth.
Looking back at it now, I realize I learned young that there’s a lot of ignorance in this world, and I can’t let that affect me.