There are questions that ultimately go through the mind of every Muslim girl and woman at one point or another in her life… “Should I wear the hijab or should I not? When should I wear it?”

For me, it was a matter of knowing that by wearing the hijab, I would be a step closer to jannah, by Allah’s mercy. When I was battling with whether or not to wear the hijab, and at what point should I start, my older sister became an unexpected source of inspiration for me. I feel like I got lucky. I was about to start tenth grade in a completely new high school, and it was like Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala had given me an opportunity for a fresh start. I had been anxious about the prospect of hijab all summer; I wondered if I would make good friends that would be receptive of me as a hijabi. I wondered if people would treat me differently. And then before I knew it, it was the first day of school.

As I got ready for school that morning, I willed myself to step out the door wearing the hijab, and since then, I have not looked back.

I feel like wearing a hijab is only half of what people see of you. Just because you wear a hijab does not mean you automatically become an “oppressed woman” in front of others. When you present yourself as someone who people can relate to, someone who can have a good time, and someone who does not let anything come in the way of her deen, the hijab will be the least of your worries because Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala will give you strength no matter what obstacles come your way.

Alhumdulillah, it has been seven years since I first put the hijab on my head, and each year I feel more and more comfortable in it. It has become such a big part of who I am that I cannot imagine stepping out the door without it now. It is like a second skin; one that protects me in a way that only my Lord can.

You have to remember that along with the responsibility of wearing a hijab also comes the responsibility of being a walking, talking example of the Muslim woman, which means setting proper examples. By fulfilling the correct requirements of hijab, you can become an inspiration for someone else by presenting yourself in an elegant manner – just like my older sister became an inspiration to me when I was younger.

When others see you as graceful hijabi, they will perhaps think twice about how Muslims are represented.

My dear sister, if you are uncertain about wearing the hijab, just know that there is nothing to lose. Yes, in the beginning you might feel hesitant and uneasy, but Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala will guide you. Ensure that you present yourself in a dignified way because as banners of our faith, it becomes our job as Muslim women to amend the perception of the “oppressed Muslim woman” with an image of one who is confident and poised.

The only things we lose are perhaps a few bad hair days… and I think everyone can do without those!

May Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala give us all the courage and confidence to wear and continue wearing the hijab with unlimited grace and beauty.

For more great articles and information please visit this site:

http://www.igotitcovered.org

My hijab story is like a secret diary no one should ever read. It is filled with horrible facts about me and points to my mistakes and weaknesses. My journey to hijab is filled with fear, negativity and regret. So I warn you: read with caution.

The most important thing you should know is that I used to wear hijab, but eventually took it off. I hate saying it, admitting to the world that I was one of those ignorant girls who went backwards after putting on the hijab, instead of moving forward with my deen. But it’s what I did and I can’t change that.

I first put on the hijab due to an extreme iman rush after an Islamic conference and pressure I felt from my community members, because, masha’Allah, almost all the girls I knew already wore hijab and were so religious. I always felt like an outcast not wearing it, so I decided to just do it.

After putting on the scarf, however, I was extremely self-cautious. I would feel fine wearing it when I was around my religious friends; but, when I was with other “normal” people, I was ashamed. I tried to cover while still blending in: wearing hoods and hats to cover my hair, instead of proper hijab. I didn’t understand that “hijab” was true modesty, not only in dress, but in actions as well. I treated the hijab simply as a cloth on my head.

During that period, I regretted the day I decided to wear the hijab and every bone in my body screamed at me to take it off, but I was afraid of what people would think of me. So I continued my self-loathing and wore the scarf. I felt horrible because I knew I wasn’t getting reward from Allah ta’ala. After all, I only kept on my hijab from fear of people’s judgment, rather than fulfilling the command of my Lord.

The regret continued and became stronger each day. I woke up miserable, knowing I had to put on my hijab. I hated going out, especially with my husband, because I felt that every other girl looked beautiful to him except me. His consolation only made it worse. I didn’t believe him when he said I looked beautiful, because I felt ugly, inside and out. I was always irritated and fighting with everyone around me.

After two years of my ongoing battle with the hijab, my nafs finally won, leaving my iman scattered to pieces. I shed the command of my Judge. I couldn’t handle it anymore. But taking off my scarf didn’t give me the relief I was looking for. I still had regret. Sure, I was happier sometimes because I got to do my hair, but I felt really bad and disappointed in myself. This time, when I was around my religious friends, I felt ashamed. I felt like I was less than them. I knew I wasn’t happy before, but at least I had been following Allah’s command. Now, I still had regret and I was disobeying. It was a lose-lose situation.

I tried to console myself whenever the regret kicked in, telling myself that at least I was a good person that prayed, fasted and dressed modestly. But I always knew in the back of my mind that I was disobeying Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala, every second of everyday that I was in front of non-mahrams. My biggest fear was dying without wearing the hijab.

A year and half after taking off the hijab, I went to hajj with my husband, alhamdulillah. It was quite the experience, but I did not cover when I came back home. SubhanAllah! Now the guilt was doubled. Everyone was calling me “Hajji,” but I felt like a big fraud, a failure. While I was discussing hajj with a few people, someone said, “A sign that your hajj has been accepted is if you change after completing it.”

I immediately felt foolish. I knew I hadn’t changed all that much even though my reoccurring du’aa at hajj was that I would wear the hijab. This statement slowly brought about the change I needed. At that point, I knew I had to wear hijab again. I had to make a difference in my life and gain Allah’s ta’ala’s love.

I thought about putting on the hijab everyday after that. Every morning I would wake up and say to myself, “Today is the day…” but it never was. I walked around everyday with a smile on my face, even though I was constantly in battle with my nafs.

Why am I so weak? How come everyone I know can wear it, but not me? How is it possible that everyone just loves hijab and I despise wearing it?

I realized that I didn’t simply hate the hijab, I was afraid of it, afraid of what it could turn me into: a self-loathing, low self-esteem introverted human being.  I felt like my iman was so much higher when I wasn’t wearing hijab than when I was. The fear of wearing hijab was so strong, that even truly wanting to wear it wasn’t enough to make me put it on.

I tried to increase my iman as much as I could, so that I would have the courage to cover myself, as my Lord has prescribed.  My sister-in-law visited me from Atlanta and took that opportunity to speak to me about death and the last days. She told me that she used to be afraid of death because, like me, she didn’t want to die hijab-less. Once she put on the hijab however, she said that her fear of dying had decreased immensely. She helped me realize that my fear of hijab was miniscule compared to my fear of the Day of Judgment, when I would be asked about my deeds.

What would I say when I was questioned about the hijab?  ”I didn’t want to look ugly”? I feel the inadequacy of saying it to myself, so how could I possibly face my Creator and say that to Him?

In hopes of continuing to increase my iman, I listened to the Hereafter Series by Imam Al-Awlaki. Something he said really hit a nerve with me, alhamdulillah. He said that the Day of Judgment is 50,000 years long and that’s not even including the rest of the akhira – that’s just that one day. Meanwhile, we live on this earth for maybe a hundred years, if we are blessed with a very long life. And on the Day of Judgment these hundred years will seem like they were fifteen minutes long, if that. Will it be worth it, at that point, that I got to show my hair off to strangers and feel “pretty” for fifteen minutes? Of course not!

My fear of hijab was slowly starting to diminish, with the help of Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala. Soon after, I was truly inspired by a close friend of mine who decided to wear the hijab. I was so happy to see her at my door, proudly wearing her white and black hijab. I was shocked and a part of me, a huge part, felt guilty, because there she was covered and modest, meanwhile I didn’t even wear hijab. My shock was not due to her lack of iman or anything; I know her as a very good Muslimah, masha’Allah, and may Allah make her even better than what others assume of her. Rather, it was because of her family, who was very against hijab. But against all odds and by the will of Allah, she chose to wear the hijab anyway. She put Allah ta’ala’s command first, disregarding what her own family would think and how they would react. I was overwhelmed by her strength, proud of her courage and jealous of her commitment and iman. She truly inspired me and made me feel the guilt of disobeying Allah’s command without saying a single word.

That was the last straw. Alhamdulillah, I decided to wear the hijab a few days later. This time, I felt so strong and ready to face the challenges that would confront me.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and I certainly wasn’t looking forward to the hard times; but I knew that earning Allah’s wrath just to show off my hair was not only foolish, but also utterly insane.

It has been three months since I put on the hijab and by the mercy of Allah, I plan to keep it on. Hijab is a choice I make everyday, every time I step out of my house or meet a non-mahram. By the will of Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala, I hope to make the right choice everyday, for the rest of my life, and look forward to reaping the benefits in the akhirah.

SOURCE: http://www.igotitcovered.org/2010/08/27/journey-back-to-hijab/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+igotitcovered+(I+Got+It+Covered+-+Online+Hijab+Community)&utm_content=FaceBook

by Niqab: The Face Veil on Tuesday, August 24, 2010 at 10:25am

Why are women choosing to wear the niqab?

Increasing numbers of British Muslim women are choosing to wear the face veil. Two of those women explain to Newsnight why they adopted the niqab when their mothers did not.

Rumaysa, aged 27

(To take the niqab off would be stripping me of my identity as a woman and stripping me of my beliefs – and for me personally, I am nothing without my beliefs)

I started wearing the niqab about eight years ago and I started wearing it in the first year of university – and my decision to wear it was to help me in my religion as an act of worship. It helps me and protects me. I feel [it] empowers me, and it helps me to realise and get closer to achieving my aim, which is to please my creator.

It empowers me because when I talk I believe I have a voice, I have an opinion, I’m my own person – my own personality comes across, and when people talk to me, they don’t… think ‘she’s looking like this, she’s looking like that,’ so my voice comes across and people are judging me for who I am, rather than what I look like.

Why did the earlier generations like our parents, their parents, when they came here, why did they not wear the niqab? Their purpose was to earn a better livelihood, make money and give a better life to their children. Their aim was to come here, work, fit in with the society. And we are saying hang on, we are born here, we are part of the society. I see myself as British.

Twenty years ago, fair enough, the niqab would have been virtually non-existent. You’ve got to bear in mind it’s their choice to wear it, and as a democratic country, can we really dictate to people how they should dress?

I get mixed reactions from people. There are people who are understanding, who are educated, and if they approach you and they really want to understand why you wear the niqab and you explain it to them, they are absolutely fine with it. They understand that a face is not an essential component of communication.

And you get other people who, no matter what, they are ignorant or they are just plain racist and do not want to understand. Why should I compromise my religious beliefs to please other people, when it’s not harming them in any way whatsoever?

Of course it upsets me that this intolerance is going on, but it doesn’t make me think I want to take it off, because then I’m not being true to myself. To take the niqab off would be stripping me of my identity as a woman and stripping me of my beliefs – and for me personally, I am nothing without my beliefs.

I believe I integrate fully into British society. I go to work and the people I work with – the majority of them are non-Muslims – and they’ve been absolutely fine with me, I’ve been fine with them. They haven’t had a problem in terms of me communicating. They’ve never seen the niqab as a barrier, and they see me for who I am and they see beyond the niqab.

Source:- http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/8929055.stm

BELOW IS A CUTE STORY OF A YOUNG GIRL WHO CHOSE TO WEAR THE SCARF OR HIJAB AS IT IS CALLED IN ARABIC.  MANY TIMES PEOPLE FEEL THAT WE ARE FORCED INTO WEARING THE SCARF YET THE MAJORITY ARE CHOOSING TO WEAR IT.  PLEASE READ THIS CUTE STORY WHICH WAS POSTED ON OPRAH.COM

Nine years ago, I danced my newborn daughter around my North Carolina living room to the music of Free to Be…You and Me, the ’70s children’s classic whose every lyric about tolerance and gender equality I had memorized as a girl growing up in California. My Libyan-born husband, Ismail, sat with her for hours on our screened porch, swaying back and forth on a creaky metal rocker and singing old Arabic folk songs, and took her to a Muslim sheikh who chanted a prayer for long life into her tiny, velvety ear. She had espresso eyes and lush black lashes like her father’s, and her milky-brown skin darkened quickly in the summer sun. We named her Aliya, which means “exalted” in Arabic, and agreed we would raise her to choose what she identified with most from our dramatically different backgrounds.

I secretly felt smug about this agreement—confident that she would favor my comfortable American lifestyle over his modest Muslim upbringing. Ismail’s parents live in a squat stone house down a winding dirt alley outside Tripoli. Its walls are bare except for passages from the Qur’an engraved onto wood, its floors empty but for thin cushions that double as bedding at night. My parents live in a sprawling home in Santa Fe with a three-car garage, hundreds of channels on the flat-screen TV, organic food in the refrigerator, and a closetful of toys for the grandchildren. I imagined Aliya embracing shopping trips to Whole Foods and the stack of presents under the Christmas tree, while still fully appreciating the melodic sound of Arabic, the honey-soaked baklava Ismail makes from scratch, the intricate henna tattoos her aunt drew on her feet when we visited Libya. Not once did I imagine her falling for the head covering worn by Muslim girls as an expression of modesty.

Last summer we were celebrating the end of Ramadan with our Muslim community at a festival in the parking lot behind our local mosque. Children bounced in inflatable fun houses while their parents sat beneath a plastic tarp nearby, shooing flies from plates of curried chicken, golden rice, and baklava.

Aliya and I wandered past rows of vendors selling prayer mats, henna tattoos, and Muslim clothing. When we reached a table displaying head coverings, Aliya turned to me and pleaded, “Please, Mom—can I have one?”

She riffled through neatly folded stacks of headscarves while the vendor, an African-American woman shrouded in black, beamed at her. I had recently seen Aliya cast admiring glances at Muslim girls her age. I quietly pitied them, covered in floor-length skirts and long sleeves on even the hottest summer days, as my best childhood memories were of my skin laid bare to the sun: feeling the grass between my toes as I ran through the sprinkler on my front lawn; wading into an icy river in Idaho, my shorts hitched up my thighs, to catch my first rainbow trout; surfing a rolling emerald wave off the coast of Hawaii. But Aliya envied these girls and had asked me to buy her clothes like theirs. And now a headscarf.

In the past, my excuse was that they were hard to find at our local mall, but here she was, offering to spend ten dollars from her own allowance to buy the forest green rayon one she clutched in her hand. I started to shake my head emphatically “no,” but caught myself, remembering my commitment to Ismail. So I gritted my teeth and bought it, assuming it would soon be forgotten.

That afternoon, as I was leaving for the grocery store, Aliya called out from her room that she wanted to come.

A moment later she appeared at the top of the stairs—or more accurately, half of her did. From the waist down, she was my daughter: sneakers, bright socks, jeans a little threadbare at the knees. But from the waist up, this girl was a stranger. Her bright, round face was suspended in a tent of dark cloth like a moon in a starless sky………..

“Are you going to wear that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, in that tone she had recently begun to use with me when I state the obvious.

On the way to the store, I stole glances at her in my rearview mirror. She stared out the window in silence, appearing as aloof and unconcerned as a Muslim dignitary visiting our small Southern town—I, merely her chauffeur. I bit my lip. I wanted to ask her to remove her head covering before she got out of the car, but I couldn’t think of a single logical reason why, except that the sight of it made my blood pressure rise. I’d always encouraged her to express her individuality and to resist peer pressure, but now I felt as self-conscious and claustrophobic as if I were wearing that headscarf myself.

In the Food Lion parking lot, the heavy summer air smothered my skin. I gathered the damp hair on my neck into a ponytail, but Aliya seemed unfazed by the heat. We must have looked like an odd pair: a tall blonde woman in a tank top and jeans cupping the hand of a four-foot-tall Muslim. I drew my daughter closer and the skin on my bare arms prickled—as much from protective instinct as from the blast of refrigerated air that hit me as I entered the store.

As we maneuvered our cart down the aisles, shoppers glanced at us like we were a riddle they couldn’t quite solve, quickly dropping their gaze when I caught their eye. In the produce aisle, a woman reaching for an apple fixed me with an overly bright, solicitous smile that said “I embrace diversity and I am perfectly fine with your child.” She looked so earnest, so painfully eager to put me at ease, that I suddenly understood how it must feel to have a child with an obvious disability, and all the curiosity or unwelcome sympathies from strangers it evokes. At the checkout line, an elderly Southern woman clasped her bony hands together and bent slowly down toward Aliya. “My, my,” she drawled, wobbling her head in disbelief. “Don’t you look absolutely precious!” My daughter smiled politely, then turned to ask me for a pack of gum.

In the following days, Aliya wore her headscarf to the breakfast table over her pajamas, to a Muslim gathering where she was showered with compliments, and to the park, where the moms with whom I chatted on the bench studiously avoided mentioning it altogether.

Later that week, at our local pool, I watched a girl only a few years older than Aliya play Ping-Pong with a boy her age. She was caught in that awkward territory between childhood and adolescence—narrow hips, skinny legs, the slightest swelling of new breasts—and she wore a string bikini. Her opponent wore an oversize T-shirt and baggy trunks that fell below his knees, and when he slammed the ball at her, she lunged for it while trying with one hand to keep the slippery strips of spandex in place. I wanted to offer her a towel to wrap around her hips, so she could lose herself in the contest and feel the exhilaration of making a perfect shot. It was easy to see why she was getting demolished at this game: Her near-naked body was consuming her focus. And in her pained expression I recognized the familiar mix of shame and excitement I felt when I first wore a bikini.

At 14, I skittered down the halls of high school like a squirrel in traffic: hugging the walls, changing direction in midstream, darting for cover. Then I went to Los Angeles to visit my aunt Mary during winter break. Mary collected mermaids, kept a black-and-white photo of her long-haired Indian guru on her dresser, and shopped at a tiny health food store that smelled of patchouli and peanut butter. She took me to Venice Beach, where I bought a cheap bikini from a street vendor.

Dizzy with the promise of an impossibly bright afternoon, I thought I could be someone else—glistening and proud like the greased-up bodybuilders on the lawn, relaxed and unself-conscious as the hippies who lounged on the pavement with lit incense tucked behind their ears. In a beachside bathroom with gritty cement floors, I changed into my new two-piece suit.

Goose bumps spread across my chubby white tummy and the downy white hairs on my thighs stood on end—I felt as raw and exposed as a turtle stripped of its shell. And when I left the bathroom, the stares of men seemed to pin me in one spot even as I walked by.

In spite of a strange and mounting sense of shame, I was riveted by their smirking faces; in their suggestive expressions I thought I glimpsed some vital clue to the mystery of myself. What did these men see in me—what was this strange power surging between us, this rapidly shifting current that one moment made me feel powerful and the next unspeakably vulnerable?

I imagined Aliya in a string bikini in a few years. Then I imagined her draped in Muslim attire. It was hard to say which image was more unsettling. I thought then of something a Sufi Muslim friend had told me: that Sufis believe our essence radiates beyond our physical bodies—that we have a sort of energetic second skin, which is extremely sensitive and permeable to everyone we encounter. Muslim men and women wear modest clothing, she said, to protect this charged space between them and the world.

Growing up in the ’70s in Southern California, I had learned that freedom for women meant, among other things, fewer clothes, and that women could be anything—and still look good in a bikini. Exploring my physical freedom had been an important part of my process of self-discovery, but the exposure had come at a price.

Since that day in Venice Beach, I’d spent years learning to swim in the turbulent currents of attraction—wanting to be desired, resisting others’ unwelcome advances, plumbing the mysterious depths of my own longing. I’d spent countless hours studying my reflection in the mirror—admiring it, hating it, wondering what others thought of it—and it sometimes seemed to me that if I had applied the same relentless scrutiny to another subject I could have become enlightened, written a novel, or at least figured out how to grow an organic vegetable garden.

On a recent Saturday morning, in the crowded dressing room of a large department store, I tried on designer jeans alongside college girls in stiletto heels, young mothers with babies fussing in their strollers, and middle-aged women with glossed lips pursed into frowns. One by one we filed into changing rooms, then lined up to take our turn on a brightly lit pedestal surrounded by mirrors, cocking our hips and sucking in our tummies and craning our necks to stare at our rear ends.

When it was my turn, my heart felt as tight in my chest as my legs did in the jeans. My face looked drawn under the fluorescent lights, and suddenly I was exhausted by all the years I’d spent doggedly chasing the carrot of self-improvement, while dragging behind me a heavy cart of self-criticism.

At this stage in her life, Aliya is captivated by the world around her—not by what she sees in the mirror. Last summer she stood at the edge of the Blue Ridge Parkway, stared at the blue-black outline of the mountains in the distance, their tips swaddled by cottony clouds, and gasped. “This is the most beautiful thing I ever saw,” she whispered. Her wide-open eyes were a mirror of all that beauty, and she stood so still that she blended into the lush landscape, until finally we broke her reverie by tugging at her arm and pulling her back to the car.

At school it’s different. In her fourth-grade class, girls already draw a connection between clothing and popularity. A few weeks ago, her voice rose in anger as she told me about a classmate who had ranked all the girls in class according to how stylish they were.

I understood then that while physical exposure had liberated me in some ways, Aliya could discover an entirely different type of freedom by choosing to cover herself.

I have no idea how long Aliya’s interest in Muslim clothing will last. If she chooses to embrace Islam, I trust the faith will bring her tolerance, humility, and a sense of justice—the way it has done for her father. And because I have a strong desire to protect her, I will also worry that her choice could make life in her own country difficult. She has recently memorized the fatiha, the opening verse of the Qur’an, and she is pressing her father to teach her Arabic. She’s also becoming an agile mountain biker who rides with me on wooded trails, mud spraying her calves as she navigates the swollen creek.

The other day, when I dropped her off at school, instead of driving away from the curb in a rush as I usually do, I watched her walk into a crowd of kids, bent forward under the weight of her backpack as if she were bracing against a storm. She moved purposefully, in such a solitary way—so different from the way I was at her age, and I realized once again how mysterious she is to me. It’s not just her head covering that makes her so: It’s her lack of concern for what others think about her. It’s finding her stash of Halloween candy untouched in her drawer, while I was a child obsessed with sweets. It’s the fact that she would rather dive into a book than into the ocean—that she gets so consumed with her reading that she can’t hear me calling her from the next room.

I watched her kneel at the entryway to her school and pull a neatly folded cloth from the front of her pack, where other kids stash bubble gum or lip gloss. Then she slipped it over her head, and her shoulders disappeared beneath it like the cape her younger brother wears when he pretends to be a superhero.

As I pulled away from the curb, I imagined that headscarf having magical powers to protect her boundless imagination, her keen perception, and her unself-conscious goodness. I imagined it shielding her as she journeys through that house of mirrors where so many young women get trapped in adolescence, buffering her from the dissatisfaction that clings in spite of the growing number of choices at our fingertips, providing safe cover as she takes flight into a future I can only imagine.

http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Choosing-to-Wear-the-Muslim-Headscarf

Wearing the Hijab for the First Time

Essay by Najla Ghazi Amundson

I was born and raised in Akron, Ohio, to Muslim parents from Aleppo, Syria. We lived in an upper-middle class suburb, predominately white and Christian. My parents had doctoral degrees. Dad was an engineer at a large company and mom stayed home with my younger sister, brother, and me. My parents spoke Arabic at home and we responded in English. Our family did not attend Mosque, we did not fast nor did we celebrate Muslim holidays. The women in my family did not wear hijabs. But I knew I was Muslim. My parents taught me that being Muslim was a way of life. I learned about my religion when I asked questions, when I listened to my parents converse, from the rules of our home and the choices I was taught to make. My religion was also strongly tied to my ethnicity. To be Muslim was to be part of the Arab culture.

I grew up during the 1970s and 1980s, during the overthrow of the Shah of Iran and the Iran hostage crisis. That’s when Nightline first went on the air and Ted Koppel began each show with the number of days the hostages had been in captivity. Then the oil crisis. Neighbor kids would tell me my family should go back to where we came from and ask why my Dad didn’t wear a rag on his head. Just as I emerged as a new television reporter, the first Gulf War erupted. My beat was the local Air Force base. Most of my reports focused on National Guard troops being shipped off to Iraq. Then, there was 9/11 and now we have the ongoing “War on Terror” making Arab and Muslim synonymous with terrorist and anti-American.

I maintained a particular identity and I guarded it heavily. As an elementary student, I didn’t look like my blonde-haired and blue-eyed classmates, but I tried to appear like them as much as possible in clothing, hair, behavior, and talk. This emphasis on mainstream appearance hit a high in college when I represented my state in the Miss America Pageant. I also had chosen a career in broadcast journalism and became a well-recognized figure in my community as an evening television anchor. My position placed an emphasis on appearance.

As I saw it, the only way to relate the “I” to “we” was to blend into the dominant culture. So as I got older and gained more control over my own decisions, I took the route of least resistance. I spent much of my life not discussing my religion, or even my ethnicity. My parents knew what I was doing and so did I. They never said anything. I am sure they were ashamed of my choices. But some things are difficult to talk about. I wasn’t strong enough to be without a “we.”

The Decision

The decision to wear the hijab and write an autoethnography came about quickly. I came up with the idea about a year ago, but decided the timing wasn’t right. The night before the fall semester began, I was home with my husband, children and one of my friends, Anna (also a graduate student). I brought up the idea again and Anna enthusiastically encouraged me to follow through on it.

I wasn’t so sure.

From an upstairs closet, I dug out a headscarf someone had sent my boys from overseas. I fiddled around with the black and white checkered fabric, trying to remember how I had seen others wear it. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I imagined what others would see.

I scanned Google for more information on hijabs. I wanted to know what it should look like. I had several scarves from the Middle East, but I thought they might be for men. I did not want to wear anything that would be unconvincing or worse yet, disrespectful.

I found a site called “Hijabs R Us,” which made us laugh out loud. We scanned some other sites, awed by the hijab “fashion world.” One site claimed it sold the newest trends in hijabs. Trendy hijabs? Who knew? They came in a dizzying assortment of colors, patterns and fabrics.

All I thought about that night was the following day. I wondered how long would I need to wear the hijab to get my study done.

Wearing the Hijab

I wore a hijab for eight days. It is 7:50 a.m. when I enter class. I look at my class for only a split second as I enter. About 12 of them look at me at once. There is a sense of surprise or uncertainty in their eyes. But I can’t look at them for any longer. I look down and don’t look at them for at least eight minutes. Why can’t I look? Why do I feel like I can’t look rather than I chose not to look or didn’t look?

I go to the board and write the day’s list of activities. As I face the board I keep thinking about them looking at me. When I finish I take a quick count of the students and see that I still have several missing so I say we’ll wait to start to make sure everyone can get here. My voice doesn’t even sound like my voice. It sounds quiet and it almost cracks. When I finally begin speaking I am so careful not to add uhms or ahs. I don’t want them to think I’m incompetent.

They are all smiling at me. Big smiles. Interesting. Do I have something on my face? Oh – I have something on my head. That couldn’t be it, could it? Maybe they’re relieved I don’t have an accent? Wow, they really smile a lot.

Communication Patterns

At least for the first two days I wore the hijab, there was a noticeable difference in my verbal and non-verbal communication patterns. I did not smile as freely as I normally would. I stood as though I was at attention. I did not use hand gestures often and I did not use the space in front of the classroom to walk around. I felt uncomfortable with eye contact.

My voice was monotone. I revealed little personal information except for the basics such as education and professional experience and some information about my family. In the past, I have revealed a lot about my personal likes and dislikes, my children, my dogs, my parents; you name it. I tell jokes, smile and really work at making the students relax.

Power and Feminism

The tremendous anxiety I felt about wearing the hijab was soon replaced by a sense of power and control. I was making a statement. Through the hijab, I was shouting to others, “I am Muslim and your dominance does not make me fearful of you!” There was also a sense of respect that wearing the veil commanded. The ability to stand out as unique amid a sea of hegemony says I am fearless. I have the confidence and pride to show you who I am.

I took one of my first big ventures outside of campus with my mother-in-law. We went to a craft fair in a city park on a Saturday afternoon. I asked if she was OK going to the fair with me wearing the hijab. She said, “I don’t care. I know who you are.” So we went. Here I am, wearing this hijab at a craft fair. I mean, a craft fair is about as all-American, Midwestern as it gets. As I walked around looking at the folksy Americana looking stuff, I noticed that people would glance at me and then look away. But their diverted glances only made me feel more certain of myself. I felt a growing confidence in who I was and where I come from. People knew as soon as they saw me: I am Muslim. In many ways, it was a relief to finally come out.

Wearing the veil also left me feeling the burden of physical appearance had been lifted. The notion of woman as object rather than person is embedded in our cultural psyche. By covering myself I was uncovering my humanness. I could not be judged on physical appearance because there was nothing to see.

Hybrid Identity

I am part of a religious culture in spirit but I am physically separated from others who share my beliefs. I am part of an ethnic culture, but am one of the few Arabs living in my community. I am part of American culture but it is blended with the culture of my parents’ country of origin. So what happens when your cultural background is not purebred? While my DNA is primarily Middle Eastern, my being is influenced by multiple cultures. I am Arab, American, Muslim, Liberal, Feminist, Mother, Daughter, Scholar, Writer, Journalist, Wife, and Friend. I feel connected to my ethnicity, my religion, my heritage, my family, and my career. I don’t want to use the word “belong” here. Because belonging is subjective. One may be a member of a culture, but whether they sense a belonging to that culture or group can only be known to that person.

One particularly revealing illustration of this was a conversation I had with my eldest son, Zachary. He wanted to be taken to his seventh grade registration.

When I told him we could go he said, “Can you take that off?” He didn’t think I should have to wear it to his school. I was wearing it to my school – wasn’t that enough? After trying to persuade me to change my mind, he gave up. He said it was more important to him to find out about his classes than it was to be worried about what I was wearing. I asked him why he wouldn’t want me to go with him like that. He said his friends would ask him all sorts of questions – it would be the talk of the 7th grade for a while and he would have to explain it to EVERYONE.

I called his father and said, “Zach would like you to take him to orientation. Maybe you could come home early to do it today, or maybe tomorrow?” Zach began to sob.

He cried, “You are brave enough to go out with it on and I’m not brave enough to have you come with me to school! I feel bad. I am not ashamed of you, I just don’t want my friends saying anything about you!”

I hugged him and said, “Zach – I know you are not ashamed of me. But this study shouldn’t affect you.” I told him, don’t feel guilty about not wanting me to come to school. If this were a life-changing decision I was making, that would be different. We would need to deal with this. But, this isn’t a life-changing decision.

Looking back on this conversation, I find it interesting that I thought of this study as not life-changing. In hindsight it really was life-changing. I didn’t realize it then, but it has and will continue to affect the way I see myself. I am freed now to call myself a Muslim.

I briefly considered taking off the hijab for him. Peeling off one part of my identity to focus on another – but decided against it. What does this mean in terms of hybrid identities? Is it possible to be American, Muslim, Arab, all in harmony or is there something about the hierarchy in the American system that does not allow for that. Are we really a melting pot?

It is Sunday morning and my husband and I enjoy our weekly ritual of drinking coffee and reading the paper together. My husband is of Norwegian descent. He was born and raised in northern Minnesota in a town of about 1,200 people. He does not like to draw attention to himself nor does he completely understand why anyone would want to. I know as we sit there, he wants to broach the subject of my hijab. I know he is curious, and perhaps a bit anxious about it.

“So .. When do you plan to take it off?” he asks.

“I’m not sure yet. Why? Does it bother you?” I ask.

“Well. I suppose not. I’m just wondering when you’ll be done.”

I decide to step up the conversation a notch. Something I tend to do, and something he tends to dislike.

“Well, how would you feel if I chose to do this forever?” I say.

He blinks slowly and looks at me knowing what I am doing.

“I think we would need to talk about that,” he says calmly.

“So, you wouldn’t accept me as a Muslim woman?”

“I married a Muslim woman, but I didn’t marry someone who wears a veil. There is a difference.”

So, symbolically, the hijab does much more than simply state “I am Muslim.”

Epilogue

Several weeks after my study, I was listening to one of my favorite morning radio shows. One of the hosts made a racist comment about the Muslim religion. I was so bothered by it, I turned off the radio and vowed never to listen again. Now, the “old me” (the one prior to wearing the hijab) would have left it at that. That would have been my contribution to the situation: To get angry and to do nothing. If I did something, it would mean revealing my religion. I got to my office and couldn’t work because I struggled with the question, “What will you do with your privilege?”

I knew what I had to do.

I wrote an e-mail to the radio host and explained that his comment disappointed me. I said, I am a Muslim and I know we are all not like the comment you made.

I have never made it known I was Muslim. I knew that by telling the host of a radio morning show, it would possibly come out the next day in a way that might not be favorable. Instead, I received a lovely e-mail back that said he had made a mistake and he would talk about it on the show the next day. He did not want to perpetuate generalizations.

That was a huge step for me. Wearing the hijab has connected me with my religious and cultural identity. I feel more part of the “we” even though distance separates me from others who are like me. I feel more at peace with the mix of identities that make me who I am. This increased comfort has also created a new desire to continue making connections to my heritage. I have taken an interest in learning Arabic. I hope to have my father take my boys to the Mosque. I have made mental plans to attend a wedding in Syria next summer. I hope to take my two older boys with me.

My feeling of vulnerability lessens each day. Today, rather than continually suppress the subordinate parts of my identity, I let them be fluid and free. My identity is still in motion and I expect it always will be.

gratefully from,  http://www.ndsu.nodak.edu/ndsu/news/magazine/vol09_issue01/wearing_hijab.shtml

simple full cover hijab

While Hijab may have political implications, as evident in the banning of Hijab in certain countries, Muslim women who choose to practice Hijab are not doing it to challenge the political system. Islam encourages men and women to observe modesty in private and public life. Hijab is an individual’s act of faith and religious expression.
I am liberated from slavery to ‘physical perfection’
Society makes women desire to become ‘perfect objects’. The multitudes of alluring fashion magazines and cosmetic surgeries show women’s enslavement to beauty. The entertainment industry pressures teens to believe that for clothes, less is better. When we wear Hijab, we vow to liberate ourselves from such desires and serve only God.

I don’t let others judge me by my hair and curves!
In schools and professional environments, women are often judged by their looks or bodies-characteristics they neither chose nor created. Hijab forces society to judge women for their value as human beings, with intellect, principles, and feelings. A woman in Hijab sends a message, “Deal with my brain, not my body!”

I feel empowered and confident
In contrast to today’s teenage culture, where anorexia and suicide are on the rise, as women attempt to reach an unattainable ideal of beauty, Hijab frees a woman from the pressure to ‘fit in’. She does not have to worry about wearing the right kind of jeans or the right shade of eyeshadow. She can feel secure about her appearance because she cares to please only Allah.

I feel the bond of unity
Hijab identifies us as Muslims and encourages other Muslim sisters to greet us with the salutation of peace, “Assalamu Alaikum”. Hijab draws others to us and immerses us in good company.
In some Arabic-speaking countries and Western countries, the word hijab primarily refers to women’s head and body covering, but in Islamic scholarship, hijab is given the wider meaning of modesty, privacy, and morality. The word used in the Qur’an for a headscarf or veil is khimār.
‘Those who harass believing men and believing women undeservedly, bear (on themselves)
a calumny and a grievous sin. O Prophet! Enjoin your wives, your daughters, and the wives of true believers that they should cast their outer garments over their persons (when abroad) That is most convenient, that they may be distinguished and not be harassed. And Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.’
(Qur’an 33:58-59)

Proper Hijab means loose and opaque clothes. Clothes should not be alluring or similar to the clothing of men. What about guys? Islam outlines a modest dress code for men and women. The requirements are different based on the obvious physiological and psychological differences between the two genders.

Hijab does not apply only to clothes. It is a state of mind, behaviour, and lifestyle. Hijab celebrates a desirable quality called Haya (modesty), a deep concern for preserving one’s dignity. Haya is a natural feeling that brings us pain at the very idea of committing a wrong..

The Prophet (s.a.w.) said:
“Every religion has a distinct call. For Islam it is Haya (modesty).”

Since nothing but what is apparent may be shown (i.e. hands and face) the garment must be thick enough so that we cannot see the color of the skin it covers or the shape of the body. Once the Prophet (pbuh) saw Asma, the daughter of Abu Bakr, visiting Aishah while Asma was wearing a dress that was not thick enough. He turned his face away in anger and said:
“If the woman reaches the age of puberty, no part of her body should be seen, but this,” and he pointed to his face and his hands. Another time when the Prophet (pbuh) saw a bride wearing a thin dress, he said, “She is not a woman who believes in Surat-un Nur who wears this.” He also described the future condition of the Ummah which would be straying from the injunction of the Islamic dress code. “In later (generations) of my Ummah there will be women who will be dressed but naked on top of heads (what looks)like camel humps. Curse them for they am truly cursed.

(Filed: 31/12/2003)

The Muslim veil has become a hot political issue in France – but Stella White cannot see what the fuss is about. ACatholic from Kent, she explains the joys of the complete cover-up

To liberated Westerners, the hijab, or veil, is a stain on womankind. It symbolises the crushing of the female spirit and is the mark of slavery, transforming a woman into a passive lump who is only allowed out of the house to buy her husband’s dinner.

When faced with this piece-of-cloth- on-legs, English women will often meet the eyes peeking out of the hijab with an expression of pity and sadness. For them, the veil represents a living death. This might also be the feeling of the French authorities, who have decided to ban the hijab in schools, believing that no young girl should have to carry the burden of repression on her tender head.

Yet for many, including myself, the veil is not an instrument of coercion, but a means of liberation. Personally, I have never felt so free as I do when I am wearing it.

Before you presume that I am regurgitating propaganda from a culture that has brainwashed me, I should point out that I am a Catholic, not a Muslim. I am not from the mysterious East, but am a 32-year-old woman from boring Kent. Nor am I a prude:my life has included spells as an exotic dancer, kissogram andglamour model. Three of my best friends are strippers. I have had relationships with Muslim men, but none of them ever demanded I wear the hijab; in fact, they found my behaviour slightly embarrassing.

There is nobody in my past that has coerced me to wear a veil. I do so simply because I love it.

I relish the privacy; the barrier that the hijab creates between myself and the harsh, frenetic world, especially in London. I find a great peace behind the veil: I don’t feel invaded by nosy passers-by; the traffic, noise and crowds seem less overwhelming. I can retreat into my own safe world even as I walk and, on a practical level, I feel completely secure from unwanted advances.

The hijab is also a financial security system. Like most pedestrians in London, I can’t afford to give money to every homeless person I see, but feel stressed and guilty when I walk past them. In my hijab, my conscience can hide. I also feel fairly safe from muggers. Thieves glance at me and probably think, “illegal immigrant; not worth the effort”, presuming that my big carrier bags contain only weird, knobbly vegetables for my 16 children.

In my hijab, shopping is also cheaper. A small minority of Muslim traders operate a two-tier pricing system with the “one of us” price being considerably lower than the price for Westerners. If I want a bargain, I make sure I am “hijabbed-up” .

The most amazing effect of wearing the veil is that you automatically seem to become a member of the Muslim community and are accorded all of the privileges and dignity of a Muslim woman. When I walk into a Muslim shop, a man will say to me, gently, “Salaam aleikum [peace be upon you]. How can I help you, madam?” On the bus, Muslim men from Africa, the Middle East or the Far East will move aside for me and say, “After you, sister.”

The offices, bars and clubs of London are full of English girls in short skirts and strappy sandals, many of them looking for love. Women who wear the hijab, often despised by the West, actually feel sorry for these Western women who have to harm themselves with crippling high heels, skin-choking make-up and obsessive dieting in order to find a man.

My Iranian friend Mona is a successful businesswoman who goes out every day looking impeccable, with painted nails, stilettos, sharp suits and perfect make-up. “It was just so much easier when I was in Iran,” she says. “You’d get up at nine, throw on your big black hooded dress and jump in the car. Now, I have to spend two or three hours getting done up every morning.”

Too often, the hijab is dismissed as the preserve of Muslim fundamentalists. But in the Christian tradition, St Paul ordered women to cover their heads and, until the Sixties, no woman would be seen in an English church without a hat and gloves.

Many English women wore hats out in the street or headscarves tied under their chin. Hindu and Sikh women are still expected to cover their heads loosely for their honour, or izzat, and Orthodox Jewish women have traditionally worn wigs over their real hair to conceal it from men who are not their husbands. Yet, among all these cultural groups, only Muslim women seem to have been described as weak or oppressed on account of their headgear.

Two of the most unlikely bedfellows are the woman who wears a hijab and the militant feminist. When women in the early Seventies began cropping their hair short, and wearing dungarees and comfortable shoes, they were rejecting the idea of suffering for fashion and were refusing to take part in the desperate ritual to attract spoilt, fussy males.

Similarly, a woman in a hijab can retain her identity without being a slave to finicky Western notions of beauty.

A particularly sad article appeared in a popular women’s magazine last week, entitled: “How to hate your body less.” I showed it to my Arab friend Malika, who shook her head and said: “In my culture, men are so grateful when they marry a woman that they see her as a gorgeous princess, whatever shape or size she is.”

Within the hijab, Muslim women know their power and their value. One Muslim man told me: “My wife is like a beautiful diamond. Would you leave a precious diamond to get scratched or stolen in the street? No, you would wrap it in velvet. And that is how the hijab protects my wife, who is more precious to me than any jewel.”

Of course, if anybody tried to remove my veil or force me to wear it, I would react violently. I am privileged to live in a country in which I can wear whatever I want to. Not all women are so lucky. Personally, I have found in the hijab a kind of guardian angel. My mother, on the other hand, claims that I wear it because I can’t be bothered to brush my hair.

Here is a non-Muslim woman who has realized and understood the value and benefits of the Islamic hijab, and she is using it for herself despite being a non-Muslim.

Do Headscarfs = Hijab?

By Humza Mullick

HEADSCARFS and head coverings are some of the misrepresented words that have been connected with the Hijab. Many haven’t really understood the meaning or implementation of Hijab. Most misconceptions are due to: lack of knowledge or simply not wanting to obey Allah.

Linguistically, Hijab means a screen or covering (Hans Weir Arabic to English dictionary). Screen, when used as a noun means an upright partition used to divide a room, give shelter, or provide concealment and, when used as a verb it means conceal, protect, or shelter with a screen. Conceal means to prevent from being seen or known. (Oxford dictionary, online version).

In Islamic Shariah terms, Hijab means covering or veil. Allah said in the Qur’an:

“Nay! Surely, they (evil-doers) will be veiled from seeing their Lord that Day.” (Qur’an, 83:15)

The word used here is ‘Mahjooboon’ , which is derived from ‘Hajaba’ which means to prevent from being seen. Allah also says in the Qur’an:

“And when you (Muhammad, peace be upon him) recite the Qur’an, We put between you and those who believe not in the Hereafter, an invisible veil (or screen their hearts, so they hear or understand it not).” (Qur’an, 17:45)

These verses show that both linguistically and Islamically, Hijab refers to something that covers and veils. During the time of the Prophet (peace be upon him), when Allah commanded that Muslim women must cover in front of non-Mahram men, they tore their ‘Murats’ – woolen dress or a waist-binding cloth – and covered themselves. 

In another verse, Allah said:

“O Prophet! Tell your wives and your daughters and the women of the believers to draw their cloaks (veils) all over their bodies. That will be better, that they should be known (as free respectable women) so as not to be annoyed. And Allah is Ever Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.” (Qur’an, 33:59)

A major mistake many make is restricting the term ‘Hijab’ to mean a flimsy scarf that covers the hair only; in other words, a ‘headscarf.’ Some Muslim women in the West wear tight jeans, t-shirts and a headscarf while going out and think they are adhering to the Islamic dress code. This is incorrect. Some of the conditions laid out in the Qur’an and Sunnah for Hijab are as follows:

• Covers the whole body, Some scholars say it includes covering of face and hands, while others say it is recommended and not obligatory.

• Not a display that attracts attention

• Not perfumed

• Not transparent

• Roomy, and not tight-fitting

• Doesn’t resemble the dress of men or what is specific to non-Muslims. 

Hijab is for all times and all places, not restricted for Muslim lands alone. Some wear Hijab in Muslim lands and switch to headscarfs in the West. We have to fear Allah everywhere we go and this dysfunctional practice is a direct result of our weakness in our understanding of Tawheed (monotheism) and a deficiency in our Aqeedah (belief). Hijab is a protection of Muslim women’s honour and respect.

Islam is about submission to the Creator in all aspects of our lives. When we are instructed to do something by Allah, we should just “hear and obey.”

A WOMAN’S BEAUTY IS IN HER DIGNITY AND SELF RESPECT

 

 

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SAKINA

 Former Actress Sara Bokker  

Posted by Ethar in Comics/Cartoons, Culture/Society. 
Tags: hijab, sexual harassment
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Veil: the View From the Inside

By Nakata Khaula

- The View From The Inside
- PostScript: The Life Without the Hijab

Do Muslim Women Have Rights?

Anyone whose sole source of knowledge about Islam has been the Western media, “knows” that Islam “oppresses” women. The hijab or veil, is the symbol of such “oppression.” To “liberate” Muslim women from such “oppression” has been the cherished goal of media pundits, Western “experts” on Islam, and the feminists.

Such is the result of a fierce propaganda campaign that has been going on for a very long time. The attack has been so ferocious that the veil and all the aspects of Shariah (Islamic laws) dealing with women should have pulverized under its intense heat. Yet in the U.S., the Western Europe, Japan and Australia, it is the women who have been turning to Islam in record numbers. It was not supposed to happen! And when it does, the propaganda machinery does not acknowledge it. It just puts a little more pressure on the accelerator.

There is something to be said about the N.Y. Times or L.A. Times reporter who will travel half way around the world to interview a woman with a Muslim sounding name in, say, Pakistan to talk about the Shariah’s injustices to the women, while ignoring the Muslim women in their own backyard who have experienced both worlds and love the Islamic one — hijab and all. The reporter travels not in search of truth, but only believability. For, the truth hurts; believability, on the other hand, is the foundation for building circulation and for propaganda.

Should not we listen to the woman who was raised and educated in the west, had first hand experience of the status of women in this society, then studied Islam and observed the life behind the veil, decided to cross the fence against all the propaganda about immediate doom, and has enjoyed life ever since? That woman does not exist in the propaganda world. She is never allowed to speak on the pages of “prestigious” publications. She has no rights! She is the one you should be listening to, to find the truth. She speaks on these pages. Listen to her.

Note: This article was taken from the magazine Impact.

Veil: The View From The Inside

When I returned to Islam, the religion of our inborn nature, a fierce debate raged about girls observing the hijab at schools in France. It still does. The majority, it seemed, thought that wearing the head-scarf was contrary to the principle that public – that is state-funded – schools should be neutral with regard to religion. Even as a non-Muslim, I could not understand why there was such a fuss over such a small thing as a scarf on a Muslim student’ s head.

Muslims contributed a proportionate amount of tax to the state funds. In my opinion, schools could respect religious beliefs and practices of students as long as they did not disrupt the school routine, nor pose a threat to discipline. However, the French faced, apparently, increasing unemployment and they felt insecure about the immigration of Arab workers. The sight of the hijab in their towns and schools aggravated such insecurity.

More and more young people in Arab countries were ( and are ) wearing the hijab, despite the expectations of many Arabs and non-Arabs alike that it would disappear as Western secularism took root in Arab societies. Such a revival of Islamic practices is often regarded as an attempt by Muslims to restore their pride and identity, both undermined by colonialism. In Japan, it may be seen and understood as conservative traditionalism, or the result of anti-Western feeling, something which the Japanese themselves experienced following the first contact with Western culture during the Meiji era; they too reacted against a non-traditional lifestyle and Western dress. There is a tendency for people to be conservative in their ways and to react against anything new and unfamiliar without taking the time to see if it is good or bad.

The feeling still persists amongst non-Muslims that Muslim women wear the hijab simply because they are slaves to tradition, so much so that it is seen as a symbol of oppression. Women’ s liberation and independence is, so they believe, impossible unless they first remove the hijab.

Such naivete is shared by “Muslims” with little or no knowledge of Islam. Being so used to secularism and religious eclecticism, pick and mix, they are unable to comprehend that Islam is universal and eternal. This apart, women all over the world, non-Arabs, are embracing Islam and wearing the hijab as a religious requirement, not a misdirected sense of “tradition.” I am but one example of such women. My hijab is not a part of my racial or traditional identity; it has no social or political significance; it is, purely and simply, my religious identity.

For non-Muslims, the hijab not only covers a woman’ s hair, but also hides something, leaving them no access. They are being excluded from something which they have taken for granted in secular society.

I have worn the hijab since embracing Islam in Paris. The exact form of the hijab varies according to the country one is in, or the degree of the individual’ s religious awareness. In France I wore a simple scarf which matched my dress and perched lightly on my head so that it was almost fashionable! Now, in Saudi Arabia, I wear an all-covering black cape; not even my eyes are visible. Thus, I have experienced the hijab from its simplest to its most complete form.

What does the hijab mean to me? Although there have been many books and articles about the hijab, they always tend to be written from an outsider’s point of view; I hope this will allow me to explain what I can observe from the inside, so to speak. When I decided to declare my Islam, I did not think whether I could pray five times a day or wear the hijab. Maybe I was scared that if I had given it serious thought I would have reached a negative conclusion, and that would affect my decision to become a Muslim. Until I visited the main mosque in Paris I had nothing to do with Islam; neither the prayers nor the hijab were familiar to me. In fact, both were unimaginable but my desire to be a Muslim was too strong (Alhamdulilah) for me to be overly concerned with what awaited me on the “other side” of my conversion.

The benefits of observing hijab became clear to me following a lecture at the mosque when I kept my scarf on even after leaving the building. The lecture had filled me with such a previously unknown spiritual satisfaction that I simply did not want to remove it. Because of the cold weather, I did not attract too much attention but I did feel different, somehow purified and protected; I felt as if I was in Allah’ s company. As a foreigner in Paris, I sometimes felt uneasy about being stared at by men. In my hijab I went unnoticed, protected from impolite stares.

My hijab made me happy; it was both a sign of my obedience to Allah and a manifestation of my faith. I did not need to utter beliefs, the hijab stated them clearly for all to see, especially fellow Muslims, and thus it helped to strengthen the bonds of sisterhood in Islam. Wearing the hijab soon became spontaneous, albeit purely voluntary. No human being could force me to wear it; if they had, perhaps I would have rebelled and rejected it. However, the first Islamic book I read used very moderate language in this respect, saying that “Allah recommends it (the hijab) strongly” and since Islam (as the word itself indicates) means we are to obey Allah’ s will I accomplished my Islamic duties willingly and without difficulty, Alhamdulilah.

The hijab reminds people who see it that God exists, and it serves as a constant reminder to me that I should conduct myself as a Muslim. Just as police officers are more professionally aware while in uniform, so I had a stronger sense of being a Muslim wearing my hijab.

Two weeks after my return to Islam, I went back to Japan for a family wedding and took the decision not to return to my studies in France; French literature had lost its appeal and the desire to study Arabic had replaced it. As a new Muslim with very little knowledge of Islam it was a big test for me to live in a small town in Japan completely isolated from Muslims. However, this isolation intensified my Islamic consciousness, and I knew that I was not alone as Allah was with me. I had to abandon many of my clothes and, with some help from a friend who knew dress- making, I made some pantaloons, similar to Pakistani dress. I was not bothered by the strange looks the people gave me!

After six months in Japan, my desire to study Arabic grew so much that I decided to go to Cairo, where I knew someone. None of my host family there spoke English (or Japanese!) and the lady who took my hand to lead me into the house was covered from head to toe in black. Even her face was covered. Although this is now familiar to me here in Riyadh, I remember being surprised at the time, recalling an incident in France when I had seen such dress and thought, “there is a woman enslaved by Arabic tradition, unaware of real Islam,” (which, I believed, taught that covering the face was not a necessity, but an ethnic tradition).

I wanted to tell the lady in Cairo that she was exaggerating her dress, that it was unnatural and abnormal. Instead, I was told that my self-made dress was not suitable to go out in, something I disagreed with since I understood that it satisfied the requirements for a Muslimah. But, when in Rome . . . So I bought some cloth and made a long dress, called khimar, which covered the loins and the arms completely. I was even ready to cover my face, something most of the sisters with whom I became acquainted did. They were, though, a small minority in Cairo.

Generally-speaking, young Egyptians, more or less fully westernized, kept their distance from women wearing khimar and called them “the sisters.” Men treated us with respect and special politeness. Women wearing a khimar shared a sisterhood which lived up to the Prophet’ s saying (Allah’ s blessings and peace on him) that “a Muslim gives his salaam to the person he crosses in the street, whether he knows him or not.” The sisters were, it is probably true to say, more conscious of their faith than those who wear scarves for the sake of custom, rather than for the sake of Allah.

Before becoming a Muslimah, my preference was for active pants-style clothes, not the more feminine skirt, but the long dress I wore in Cairo pleased me; I felt elegant and more relaxed. In the western sense, black is a favorite color for evening wear as it accentuates the beauty of the wearer. My new sisters were truly beautiful in their black khimar, and a light akin to saintliness shone from their faces. Indeed, they are not unlike Roman Catholic nuns, something I noticed particularly when I had occasion to visit Paris soon after arriving in Saudi Arabia. I was in the same Metro carriage as a nun and I smiled at our similarity of dress. Hers was the symbol of her devotion to God, as is that of a Muslimah. I often wonder why people say nothing about the veil of the Catholic nun but criticize vehemently the veil of a Muslimah, regarding it as a symbol of` “terrorism” and “oppression.” I did not mind abandoning colorful clothes in favor of black; in fact, I had always had a sense of longing for the religious lifestyle of a nun even before becoming a Muslimah!

Nevertheless, I balked at the suggestion that I should wear my khimar back in Japan. I was angry at the sister’ s lack of understanding: Islam commands us to cover our bodies, and as long as this is done, one may dress as desired. Every society has its own fashions and such long black clothes in Japan could make people think I am crazy, and reject Islam even before I could explain its teachings. Our argument revolved around this aspect.

After another six months in Cairo, however, I was so accustomed to my long dress that I started to think that I would wear it on my return to Japan. My concession was that I had some dresses made in light colors, and some white khimars, in the belief that they would be less shocking in Japan than the black variety.

I was right. The Japanese reacted rather well to my white khimars, and they seemed to be able to guess that I was of a religious persuasion. I heard one girl telling her friend that I was a Buddhist nun; how similar a Muslimah, a Buddhist nun and a Christian nun are! Once, on a train, the elderly man next to me asked why I was dressed in such unusual fashion. When I explained that I was a Muslimah and that Islam commands women to cover their bodies so as not to trouble men who are weak and unable to resist temptation, he seemed impressed. When he left the train he thanked me and said that he would have liked more time to speak to me about Islam.

In this instance, the hijab prompted a discussion on Islam with a Japanese man who would not normally be accustomed to talking about religion. As in Cairo, the hijab acted as a means of identification between Muslims; I found myself on the way to a study circle wondering if I was on the right route when I saw a group of sisters wearing the hijab. We greeted each other with salaam and went on to the meeting together.

My father was worried when I went out in long sleeves and a head-cover even in the hottest weather, but I found that my hijab protected me from the sun. Indeed, it was I who also felt uneasy looking at my younger sister’ s legs while she wore short pants. I have often been embarrassed, even before declaring Islam, by the sight of a women’ s bosoms and hips clearly outlined by tight, thin clothing. I felt as if I was seeing something secret. If such a sight embarrasses me, one of the same sex, it is not difficult to imagine the effect on men. In Islam, men and women are commanded to dress modestly and not be naked in public, even in all male or all female situations.

It is clear that what is acceptable to be bared in society varies according to societal or individual understanding. For example, in Japan fifty years ago it was considered vulgar to swim in a swimming suit but now bikinis are the norm. If, however, a woman swam topless she would be regarded as shameless. To go topless on the south coast of France, however, is the norm. On some beaches in America, nudists lie as naked as the day they were born. If a nudist were to ask a “liberated” female who rejects the hijab why she still covers her bosoms and hips which are as natural as her hands and face could she give an honest answer? The definition of what part of a woman’ s body should remain private to her is altered to suit the whims and fancies of either men or their surrogates, the so-called feminists. But in Islam we have no such problems: Allah has defined what may and may not be bared, and we follow.

The way people walk around naked (or almost so), excreting or making love in public, robs them of the sense of shame and reduces them to the status of animals. In Japan, women only wear makeup when they go out and have little regard for how they look at home. In Islam a wife will try to look beautiful for her husband and her husband will try to look good for his wife. There is modesty even between husband and wife and this embellishes the relationship.

Muslims are accused of being over-sensitive about the human body but the degree of sexual harassment which occurs these days justifies modest dress. Just as a short skirt can send the signal that the wearer is available to men, so the hijab signals, loud and clear: “I am forbidden for you.”

The Prophet, Allah’s blessings and peace on him, once asked his daughter Fatima, May Allah be pleased with her, “What is the best for a woman?” And she replied: “Not to see men and not to be seen by them.” The Prophet, Allah’ s blessings and peace on him, was pleased and said: “You are truly my daughter.” This shows that it is preferable for a woman to stay at home and avoid contact with male strangers as much as possible. Observing the hijab, when one goes outside, has the same effect.

Having married, I left Japan for Saudi Arabia, where it is customary for the women to cover their face outdoors. I was impatient to try the niqab (face cover), and curious to know how it felt. Of course, non-Muslim women generally wear a black cloak, rather non-chalantly thrown over their shoulders but do not cover their faces; Non-Saudi Muslim women also often keep their faces uncovered.

Once accustomed to, the niqab is certainly not inconvenient. In fact I felt like the owner of a secret masterpiece, a treasure which you can neither know about, nor see. Whereas non-Muslims may think they are life imitating caricatures when they see Muslim couples walk in the streets, the oppressed, and the oppressor, the possessed, and the possessor, the reality is that the women feel like queens being led by servants.

My first niqab left my eyes uncovered. But in winter I wore a fine eye-covering as well. All the feelings of un-ease when a man’s eyes met mine disappeared. As with sun glasses, the visual intrusion of strangers was prevented.

It is an error of judgment to think that a Muslim woman covers herself because she is a private possession of her husband. In fact, she preserves her dignity and refuses to be possessed by strangers. It is non-Muslim (and “liberated” Muslim) women who are to be pitied for displaying their private self for all to see.

Observing the hijab from outside, it is impossible to see what it hides. The gap, between being outside and looking in, and being inside and looking out, explains in part the void in the understanding of Islam. An outsider may see Islam as restricting Muslims. In side, however, there is peace, freedom, and joy, which those who experience it have never known before. Practicing Muslims, whether those born in Muslim families or those returned to Islam, choose Islam rather than the illusory freedom of secular life. If it oppresses women, why are so many well-educated young women in Europe, America, Japan, Australia, indeed all over the world, abandoning “liberty” and “independence” and embracing Islam?

A person blinded by prejudice may not see it, but a woman in hijab is as brightly beautiful as an angle, full of self-confidence, serenity, and dignity. No signs of oppression scar her face. “For indeed it is not the eyes that grow blind, but it is the hearts within the bosoms, that grow blind,” says the Qur’an (Al-Hajj 22:46). How else can we explain the great gap in understanding between us and such people?

PostScript: The Life Without the Hijab

• Beatings by husbands and boy friends are the leading cause of injuries to the U.S. women. (surgeon general’s report.)

• According to the FBI, a battering incident occurs every 18 seconds in the U.S., and 30% of female homicide victims are killed by their husbands or boyfriends. In October 1992, the Senate Judiciary Committee found that at least 1.1 million assaults against women in the home were reported in 1991. By some estimates 3 million more such crimes go unreported each year.

• Rule of Thumb: Under English Common Law a husband was allowed to beat his wife if he used modertion, as in a stick no thicker than a thumb.

• 42% of women in the U.S. military are sexually assaulted.

• Three out of four women will be victims of violent crimes. And one out of five will be raped in their life time.

• A woman is raped every six minutes.

• Every other U.S. woman has been approached by at least one person who tried to rape her.

• “Thirteen year old rapists are no uncommon, neither are 8 year old victims.” (N. Y. Times 13 June 89).

• “More than a third of women slain in this country die at the hands of husbands or boyfriends, and domestic violence is the single largest cause of injuries to women in the United States. The home is actually a more dangerous place for American women than city streets.” [ U.S. Surgeon Geberal Dr. Anotnia C. Novello, 20 Oct 91]

• “During 1985-1990 more than half of all births to 18- and 19- year old women in the U.S. were out of wedlock.” [Census Bureau Report, N.Y. time s4 Dec 91]

You look at me and call me oppressed,
Simply because of the way I’m dressed,

You know me not for what’s inside,
You judge the clothing I wear with pride,

My body is not for your eyes to hold,
You must speak to my mind, not my feminine mould,

I’m an individual, I’m no mans slave,
It’s Allah’s pleasure that I only crave,

I have a voice so I will be heard,
For in my heart I carry His word,

“O ye women, wrap close your cloak,

so you won’t be bothered by ignorant folk”,

Man doesn’t tell me to dress this way,
It’s a law from God that I obey,

Oppressed is something I’m truly NOT,
For liberation is what I’ve got,

It was given to me many years ago,
With the right to prosper, the right to grow,

I can climb mountains or cross the seas,
Expand my mind in all degrees,

For God Himself gave us LIB-ER-TY,
When He sent Islãm,
To You and Me!

{Unknown Writer, if you know let us know!}

I want to share my story about my journey to wear hijab in the hopes that some aspiring sister will glean strength from it, insha’allah. Sisters, you can do it! Just keep in mind that
you need to please Allah (swt) before you please anybody. Shaitan is whispering in your ears and trying to keep you away from doing something that makes Allah (swt) happy. Don’
listen to him, because if you do you will be obeying him and this could make Allah (swt) angry. Shaitan is promising you good things if only you keep away from hijab. Really he is
deceiving you because he knows once you follow him he has fullfilled his promise he made to Allah (swt) to mislead others. Don’t let Shaitan make you one of his soldiers! Decline
his invitation to spend eternity in the hellfire! Instead, race to Jannah (heaven) sisters….and let hijab be one of your steps towards the finish line!

To read the whole article please see this site:

http://islamicarticles.wordpress.com/2008/06/28/the-road-to-hijab/

FOR MORE STYLES AND INFORMATION IN ENGLISH OR ARABIC SEE THE SITE BELOW

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November 2007

Hijab is an Attitude, not a Fashion

by Somayya Gefori

Hijab is not something we wear as a fashion statement, it is not merely a piece of clothing. Hijab is part of the Islamic way of life, hijab is an attitude, a way of thinking and behaving.

There is such a saying as a woman being clothed, yet naked. This means that she is wearing clothing, but it is so tight and transparent, that it could hardly be called clothing. Even if the clothing is long, if it is tight and figure-hugging, so that it reveals a woman’s shape, it is not hijab.

Hijab is not only wearing a scarf on your head, it also means to cover your awra.

A woman’s awra is her full body. She must cover her hair, torso, arms, legs and feet. The best way of covering everything is to wear a jilbaab/abaya and a scarf on the head. They must be baggy enough so as not to show the shape. They also must not be transparent. Some women choose to also wear niqaab which covers the face; gloves are often worn with it to cover the hands.

“And Say to the believing women to lower their gaze (from looking at forbidden things), and protect their private parts (from illegal sexual acts) and not to show off their adornment except only that which is apparent (like both eyes for necessity to see the way, or outer palms of hands or one eye or dress like veil, gloves, head cover, apron), and to draw their veils all over (i.e. their bodies, faces, necks and bosoms).” Surah an-Nur 30-31.

Women shouldn’t beautify themselves when they go out, such as wear make-up, perfume or shoes that make a loud sound when they walk outside. Wearing make-up and perfume should be reserved only for her husband to see, not any strange man outside! Many Western women beautify themselves for men, going out caked in make-up, in a cloud of perfume and non-covering clothes so that they draw attention to themselves from the opposite sex.

Going back to what I mentioned above about the hijab being an attitude and a way of thinking, it means that when Muslim women go out, they must act like proper Muslim women. No flirting, talking to men casually, talking too loudly (the voice is also an awra! A man could find a woman’s voice attractive.) etc. We should conduct ourselves with dignity at all times; after all, whenever we go out in the world, we are representing Islam.

There will always be people out there who don’t understand the hijab and direct negative comments and stares towards us. But eventually, you won’t notice those people staring. You will be comfortable in your hijab, you will be strong. It should get to the point where you would feel naked without your covering over your clothes!

But hijab is not only for women, it is for men too. Men have an awra, from their navel to their knee (that is the absolute minimum; it is recommended that men should dress fully and modestly as well). They should also lower their gazes. Although in most Muslim countries, men do not usually walk around without a t-shirt on.

This means that men should not wear tight clothing, or revealing clothing. So, all those young men who insist on wearing their tight jeans so low that everybody can see their underwear should think again!

So, why do we wear hijab? For our husbands? To impress people at the mosque? No. We wear hijab to please Allah and no-one else.

TeenPerspectives.com

by

Paradise

Australia

The image of the typical Muslim woman wearing the veil and forced to stay home and forbidden to drive is all too common in most peoples� thoughts. Although some Muslim countries may have laws that oppress women, this should not be seen as coming from Islam. Many of these countries do not rule by any true Shari’ah(Islamic law), and instead introduce their own cultural standpoints on the issue of gender equity.

Islam gives men and women different roles, and equity between the two is laid down in the Qur�an and the example of the Prophet (peace be upon him). Islam sees a woman, whether single or married, as an individual in her own right, with the right to own and dispose of her property and earnings. A marriage gift is given by the groom to the bride for her own personal use, and she keeps her own family name rather than taking her husband’s. Both men and women are expected to dress in a way which is modest and dignified. �The Messenger of God (peace be upon him) said: “The most perfect in faith amongst believers is he who is best in manner and kindest to his wife.”�

Violence of any kind towards women and forcing them against their will for anything is not allowed. A Muslim marriage is a simple, legal agreement in which either partner is free to include conditions. Marriage customs thus vary widely from country to country. Divorce is not common, although it is acceptable as a last resort. According to Islamic teachings, a Muslim girl cannot be forced to marry against her will.

Hijab: suppression or liberation?

“Why do Muslim women have to cover their heads?” This question is one which is asked by Muslim and non-Muslim alike. The word is often used in news reports and as well as common use, by both Muslims and non-Muslims, to refer to a form of headscarf. For many women it is the truest test of being a Muslim.

The practice of hijab among Muslim women is one based on religious doctrine, although the Qur’an does not mandate it. Instead, it comes from the Hadith of Sahih Bukhari. The Hadith, the “tradition of Mohammed,” reveals the teachings of the Prophet to believers. Bukhari’s version of this text is generally regarded as the standard one, although numerous versions exist. In a very broad sense, the relation the Hadith has to the Qur’an resembles the New Testament’s to the Old in Christian scriptures.

According to the Hadith, “My Lord agreed with me (‘Umar) in three things … And as regards the veiling of women, I said ‘O Allah’s Apostle! I wish you ordered your wives to cover themselves from the men because good and bad ones talk to them.’ So the verse of the veiling of the women was revealled” (Bukhari, v1, bk 8, sunnah 395).

Surah XXXIII, Verse 59 of the Qur’an is most often cited in support of veiling. It states “O Prophet! Tell thy wives and thy daughters and the women of the believers to draw their cloaks close around them. that will be better, so that they may be recognized and not annoyed. Allah is ever forgiving, merciful…” (from A.Yusef Ali’s translation of the Qur’an; other versions translate the original Arabic as “veils” where Ali uses “cloaks”).

The veil is not a uniquely Islamic convention; the practice has a long history in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Catholic nuns engage in the practice, of course, and there are several references to the practice in both the Old and New Testaments (King James Version). Ironically, the representation of veiling in the Bible is much more problematic than those in the Qur’an or the Hadith, because the Judeo-Christian sources imply that women should be covered because of their inherent inferiority. I Corinthians 11 (3-10) offers one example:

http://islamqa.com/index.php?ln=eng

What is the correct Hijab?

Shaykh al-Albaani (may Allaah have mercy on him) said:

The conditions of hijaab:

Firstly:

(It should cover all the body apart from whatever has been exempted).

Allaah says (interpretation of the meaning):

“O Prophet! Tell your wives and your daughters and the women of the believers to draw their cloaks (veils) all over their bodies (i.e. screen themselves completely except the eyes or one eye to see the way). That will be better, that they should be known (as free respectable women) so as not to be annoyed. And Allaah is Ever Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.”

This aayah clearly states that it is obligatory to cover all of a woman’s beauty and adornments and not to display any part of that before non-mahram men (“strangers”) except for whatever appears unintentionally, in which case there will be no sin on them if they hasten to cover it up.

Al-Haafiz ibn Katheer said in his Tafseer:

This means that they should not display any part of their adornment to non-mahrams, apart from that which it is impossible to conceal. Ibn Mas’ood said: such as the cloak and robe, i.e., what the women of the Arabs used to wear, an outer garment which covered whatever the woman was wearing, except for whatever appeared from beneath the outer garment. There is no sin on a woman with regard to this because it is impossible to conceal it.

Secondly

(it should not be an adornment in and of itself).

Allaah says (interpretation of the meaning):

“… and not to show off their adornment…” [al-Noor 24:31]. The general meaning of this phrase includes the outer garment, because if it is decorated it will attract men’s attention to her. This is supported by the aayah in Soorat al-Ahzaab (interpretation of the meaning):

“And stay in your houses, and do not display yourselves like that of the times of ignorance” [al-Ahzaab 33:33]. It is also supported by the hadeeth in which the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “There are three, do not ask me about them: a man who leaves the jamaa’ah, disobeys his leader and dies disobedient; a female or male slave who runs away then dies; and a woman whose husband is absent and left her with everything she needs, and after he left she made a wanton display of herself. Do not ask about them.”

(Narrated by al-Haakim, 1/119; Ahmad, 6/19; from the hadeeth of Faddaalah bint ‘Ubayd. Its isnaad is saheeh and it is in al-Adab al-Mufrad).

Thirdly:

(It should be thick and not transparent or “see-thru”)

- because it cannot cover properly otherwise. Transparent or see-thru clothing makes a woman more tempting and beautiful. Concerning this the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “During the last days of my ummah there will be women who are clothed but naked, with something on their heads like the humps of camels. Curse them, for they are cursed.” Another hadeeth adds: “They will not enter Paradise or even smell its fragrance, although its fragrance can be detected from such and such a distance.”

(Narrated by Muslim from the report of Abu Hurayrah).

Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr said: what the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) meant was women who wear clothes made of light fabric which describes and does not cover. They are clothed in name but naked in reality.

Transmitted by al-Suyooti in Tanweer al-Hawaalik, 3/103.

Fourthly:

(It should be loose, not tight so that it describes any part of the body).

The purpose of clothing is to prevent fitnah (temptation), and this can only be achieved if clothes are wide and loose. Tight clothes, even if they conceal the colour of the skin, still describe the size and shape of the body or part of it, and create a vivid image in the minds of men. The corruption or invitation to corruption that is inherent in that is quite obvious. So the clothes must be wide. Usaamah ibn Zayd said: “The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) gave me a thick Egyptian garment that was one of the gifts given to him by Duhyat al-Kalbi, and I gave it to my wife to wear. He said, ‘Why do I not see you wearing that Egyptian garment?’ I said, ‘I gave it to my wife to wear.’ He said, ‘Tell her to wear a gown underneath it, for I am afraid that it may describe the size of her bones.’” (Narrated by al-Diyaa’ al-Maqdisi in al-Ahaadeeth al-Mukhtaarah, 1/442, and by Ahmad and al-Bayhaqi, with a hasan isnaad).

Fifthly:

(It should not be perfumed with bakhoor or fragrance)

There are many ahaadeeth which forbid women to wear perfume when they go out of their houses. We will quote here some of those which have saheeh isnaads:

 

1. Abu Moosa al-Ash’ari said: the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “Any woman who puts on perfume then passes by people so that they can smell her fragrance, is an adulteress.”

2. Zaynab al-Thaqafiyyah reported that the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “If any one of you (women) goes out to the mosque, let her not touch any perfume.”

3. Abu Hurayrah said: the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “Any woman who has scented herself with bakhoor (incense), let her not attend ‘Ishaa’ prayers with us.”

 

4. Moosa ibn Yassaar said that a woman passed by Abu Hurayrah and her scent was overpowering. He said, “O female slave of al-Jabbaar, are you going to the mosque?” She said, “Yes,” He said, “And have you put on perfume because of that?” She said, “Yes.” He said, “Go back and wash yourself, for I heard the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) say: ‘If a woman comes out to the mosque and her fragrance is overpowering, Allaah will not accept any prayer from her until she goes home and washes herself.’”

 

 

These ahaadeeth are general in implication. Just as the prohibition covers perfume applied to the body, it also covers perfume applied to the clothes, especially in the third hadeeth, where bakhoor (incense) is mentioned, because incense is used specifically to perfume the clothes.

The reason for this prohibition is quite clear, which is that women’s fragrance may cause undue provocation of desires. The scholars also included other things under this heading of things to be avoided by women who want to go to the mosque, such as beautiful clothes, jewellery that can be seen, excessive adornments and mingling with men. See Fath al-Baari, 2/279.

Ibn Daqeeq al-‘Eed said:

This indicates that it is forbidden for a woman who wants to go to the mosque to wear perfume, because this causes provocation of men’s desires. This was reported by al-Manaawi in Fayd al-Qadeer, in the commentary on the first hadeeth of Abu Hurayrah quoted above.

Sixthly:

(It should not resemble the clothing of men)

It was reported in the saheeh ahaadeeth that a woman who imitates men in dress or in other ways is cursed. There follow some of the ahaadeeth that we know:

 

1. Abu Hurayrah said: “The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) cursed the man who wears women’s clothes, and the woman who wears men’s clothes.”

2. ‘Abd-Allaah ibn ‘Amr said: I heard the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) say: ‘They are not part of us, the women who imitate men and the men who imitate women.’”

3. Ibn ‘Abbaas said: “The Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) cursed effeminate men and masculine women. He said, ‘Throw them out of your houses.’” He said: “The Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) expelled So and so, and ‘Umar expelled So and so.” According to another version: “The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) cursed men who imitate women and women who imitate men.”

4. ‘Abd-Allaah ibn ‘Amr said: “The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: ‘There are three who will not enter Paradise and Allaah will not even look at them on the Day of Resurrection: one who disobeys his parents, a woman who imitates men, and the duyooth (cuckold, weak man who feels no jealousy over his womenfolk).”

 

5. Ibn Abi Maleekah – whose name was ‘Abd-Allaah ibn ‘Ubayd-Allaah – said: “It was said to ‘Aa’ishah (may Allaah be pleased with her), ‘What if a woman wears (men’s) sandals?’ She said: ‘The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) cursed women who act like men.’”

 

 

These ahaadeeth clearly indicate that it is forbidden for women to imitate men and vice versa, This usually includes dress and other matters, apart from the first hadeeth quoted above, which refers to dress only.

Abu Dawood said, in Masaa’il al-Imaam Ahmad (p. 261): “I heard Ahmad being asked about a man who dresses his slave woman in a tunic. He said, ‘Do not clothe her in men’s garments, do not make her look like a man.” Abu Dawood said: “I said to Ahmad, Can he give her bachelor sandals to wear? He said, No, unless she wears them to do wudoo’. I said, What about for beauty? He said, No. I said, Can he cut her hair short? He said, No.”

Seventhly:

(It should not resemble the dress of kaafir women).

It is stated in sharee’ah that Muslims, men and women alike, should not resemble or imitate the kuffaar with regard to worship, festivals or clothing that is specific to them. This is an important Islamic principle which nowadays, unfortunately, is neglected by many Muslims, even those who care about religion and calling others to Islam. This is due either to ignorance of their religion, or because they are following their own whims and desires, or because of deviation, combined with modern customs and imitation of kaafir Europe. This was one of the causes of the Muslims’ decline and weakness, which enabled the foreigners to overwhelm and colonize them. “…Verily, Allaah will not change the condition of a people as long as they do not change their state themselves …” [al-Ra’d 13:11 – interpretation of the meaning]. If only they knew.

It should be known that there is a great deal of saheeh evidence for these important rules in the Qur’aan and Sunnah, and that the evidence in the Qur’aan is elaborated upon in the Sunnah, as is always the case.

Eighthly:

(It should not be a garment of fame and vanity).

Ibn ‘Umar (may Allaah be pleased with him) said: “The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: ‘Whoever wears a garment of fame and vanity in this world, Allaah will clothe him in a garment of humiliation on the Day of Resurrection, then He will cause Fire to flame up around him.’”

(Hijaab al-Mar’ah al-Muslimah, p. 54-67).

And Allaah knows best.

Hijaab al-Mar’ah al-Muslimah, p. 54-67

Question and Answer Details

Name of Questioner Shakir   – Sri Lanka   Title Hijab… a Must, Not a Choice   Date 29/Feb/2004   Question Hello, Dear Scholars. My question is about hijab. The usual question is whether or not it is obligatory. My question is a bit more basic. What Qur’anic verse or authentic hadith suggests that wearing the head cover is the compulsory? The most popular Qur’anic quotation relating to hijab, which is often quoted is An-Nur 24:31, which doesn’t explicitly say that the head should be covered. I would like to know all material —Qur’anic verses and authentic (not weak, not fabricated) hadith— on which the head cover ruling is based. If the ruling on head cover is a mere interpretation by scholars of the above Qur’anic verse, then I don’t find it so convincing. To my understanding, this Qur’anic verse merely asks women to dress decently, to cover their bosoms fully, and not display any temptation in that way. If scholars were to say that showing the hair is a temptation, then what about the face and hands? If that is the yardstick used, then not a single portion of a woman should be visible. Please reply to my question, as a lot of people would benefit from it. Wa salam.   Topic Virtues   Name of Counselor Sahar El-Nadi

Answer

Fold the square into a triangle but let one side be shorter than the other.  The longer side will be what shows outside.  Holding the hijab at the folded edge, flip it over the head so that the longer triangle is facing out and lay it on your head.  Gently pull on the ends of the triangle to make sure that both sides are even.

Then with some of the material covering your forhead, fold in the sides a little and draw it down under your chin and pin it.  Depending upon the type of material, safety pins usually get caught up into the materials, so better to look for special pins or use diaper type pins.  Some of these can be purchased through islamic clothing stores online.  Below is a picture of how some women tie the ends and flip them over the back of the scarf to weigh it down in the back, however this has to be a wide piece of material and should be soft enough to drape well.

Here is an additional picture which was taken from a previous post, and shows how it is pinned under the chin and then one side will be thrown over a shoulder.  This particular hijab is a nice size as it will cover the chest properly, is modest in color and design, and can also be tied and flipped over the back on a windy day.  However, on the model, it is not covering the forhead, which will allow the hair to show.  Therefore, making the frame around the face smaller and folding in the edges at the temples and pinning under the chin will prevent that from happening.  Some women who work and need a really foolproof hassel free look, may use color co-ordinated staight pins at the temple area to attach it to the umpta or headband.

This maroon scarf shows the pink umpta or headband and is wrapped and then pinned using a straight pin on the other side of the head.  This allows for nice color combinations, is easy to do, is very feminine and covers well.