#WhenIwasaMuslim From a young age I was the antithesis of the ideal Muslim woman: stubborn, arguementative, loud and opinionated. When we went to the mosque, I wanted to run around and play with the boys, not sit hidden away in the back room as a 'dignified' lady should
I hated the hijab from the outset, bothered by the heat and extra material that was forced on me at every religious ceremony or ritual. I simply couldn't understand what it was about my body and my behaviour that was inherently wrong that it needed to be so crudely erased.
I was told that men and women were 'equal but different' and that my honour lay in being the queen of the house. I was encouraged to take pride in my ownership of this domain, which was such a crucial building block in the integrity of the broader Muslim society.
My parents explained that God took care of women by mandating men to protect and 'maintain' them. In exchange I would do my duties in the house- obeying, serving and pleasing my guardian (whether it be my dad or husband later).
But I would only be worthy of this honour, if I was able to show some discipline and tame myself into the woman that God created me to be. To refrain from drawing attention to myself, to mixing with boys, to putting myself on display. The only problem is that I didn't want it
I had a personality and zest for life that I couldn't even begin to contain. I resisted in any little way I could, begging to take the hijab off at every event until I wore them down. But they were determined to train me, making me wear it whenever we were in Muslim company
I was encouraged to learn to cook and clean, working towards my destiny as a housewife. When I was 11, my parents tried to make me wear the hijab to school, no doubt influenced by the Pakistani girls in our community that started from the age of 9.
I cried and fought until eventually we negotiated down to an Australian themed bandana that covered most of my hair. I still remember the first day of school when my older brother's teacher, who was culturally literate and 'progressive' saw me and celebrated that I was embracing
this aspect of my identity. Putting on a brave face, I pretended that her words weren't a punch in the gut, reminding me of my failure to conforming to these expectations. At the end of that year, I got my period and knew exactly what would happen if my parents found out.
Having reached puberty, the hijab was now an obligation for me in the eyes of God. Going out uncovered now would be sinful, and my parents would be responsible for facilitating this sin if they allowed me out of the house that way. Completely unprepared for this, I hid my period
For a whole year, I dealt with my period in secret, stealing pads from my mum or folding wads of toilet paper when desperate. Eventually high-school came around and knowing I couldn't pretend for much longer, I resigned myself to my fate.I had to accept my identity as a hijabi
I had developed into a strong-willed, outspoken & logical young woman, and wanted to represent these qualities honestly. This meant that I had to convince myself and those around me that the hijab, and the ideology it belonged to, was something I was proud of choosing.
At one point, I think I honestly believed that I was liberated by the hijab and empowered by the emphasis it put on my intellect and personality rather than my body. I continued to immerse myself in Islamic studies, focusing on understanding the rules and rituals I was performing
I tried to manufacture a spiritual connection with this God who was demanding so much of me, even going on the Holy Pilgrimage to Mecca. Eventually, by the age of 21, the emptiness of the ideology I was following was painfully clear.
Reading feminist arguments on facebook against forced modesty resonated with me in a way that Islamic 'logic' never did. The difference was that their evidence was in reality, available for me to access whenever I was ready to, and wasn't followed by the threat of eternal torture
It was truth, more powerful than any tool Islam had at it's disposal. Acknowledging that the hijab, such an integral part of a woman's role in Islam, wasn't actually backed by divine wisdom or justice, allowed me to examine the rest of the religion more objectively.
Bit by bit, my world view collapsed and I was left, bewildered, with the remains strewn around me. There had never been a pretence that being a Muslim was a choice I could opt out of, so consulting my parents was not an option. I reached out to some of my highschool friends
Provided with a practical escape plan, I decided to leave home without telling anyone. It was a shocking six months to follow, with fears for my physical safety dominating my psyche. Over two years on from that, I have limited contact with my family & have full autonomy
So what do I say now about hijab and women's rights in Islam? I say that Islam robs women of their free will, their autonomy & their sense of self. Girls are taught from a young age that they are too precious and fragile to be consumed publicly #FreeFromHijab
Their physical beauty should be reserved for private enjoyment. That their voice, their laugh, their singing has the power to bring men to their knees. Every aspect needs to be modified to eliminate any threat to the tenuous hold men have over their sexual desires #FreeFromHijab
Even the sight of a woman bending over in prayer is too much! What it boils down to is that women are inherently wrong, and the less of them we see and hear, the better. And I can't stand for this bullshit any longer #NoHijabDay
