On removing an item of clothing: Part I

This is the first part of a series of posts about my experience before and after I stopped wearing a headscarf. This is a primer to the series if you will.

I wore a hijab of sorts (a head scarf to be precise) from the day I turned 12 till the day I graduated from college, about 8 odd months ago. I say hijab of sorts because I want to differentiate between the concept of Hijab that numerous Muslim woman all over the world adopt as part of their religious spirituality. It takes different forms, as varied as the people that identify with the religion of Islam. My headscarf never really was about that. Not because it did not conform to a how people (Muslim and Non-Muslim) envision a Muslim woman’s hijab should look like. My sister wears her headscarf in a similar style and it is definitely a part of her religious spirituality. I wore it initially because it was expected of me by my family. Not forced but expected, like so many people everywhere take on roles just because that’s the way it is. I never thought to question that expectation, despite the fact that hijab wearing women were a minority in Karachi, Pakistan (at least when I grew up). No one in my extended family even wore a hijab for that matter, yet it was nothing out of the ordinary for me. I had bigger things to deal with, like fighting off the impending ban on my playing cricket in the street with the mohallay kai larkay (the neighborhood dudes).

Once I started entering the dreaded adolescence age (fifteen-ish to be exact), I now see that my hijab became a refuge for (not)dealing with my sexuality (hindsight is 20/20 huh?). Guys, and crushes and secretly talking to guys on the phone were the topic of every conversation. I din’t have any inclination to participate and my refusal to participate never raised any eyebrows because you know, I was “religious.” And I definitely believed it myself, despite knowing I wasn’t all that devout when it came to other things. I spent the first twenty one years (and one day but who’s counting) of my life (two in college faaar away from the parental’s) without ever having any kind of physically intimate interaction with anyone (man or woman). And I never questioned why that was, because if I would have the answer would have been as clear as a non-polluted day.

Back in those adolescent days, wearing the hijab and perceptions about me wearing one also gently directed me down two very important paths. People around me, family members, friends, teachers etc, covertly and sometimes overtly let me know that women wearing a hijab were doomed to one destination: the 18th century. Hijab wearing women don’t go abroad to study. They don’t play sports. They don’t study science. They get married and raise good Muslim children by the age of twenty. And mind you I grew up in a Muslim country, and most of these people share nothing in common with your stereo- typical Pakistani religious conservative other than a citizenship. Muslims that proudly claim the title of silent moderate majority while believing and perpetuating that shit need to be called on it just as much as orientalist non-Muslim’s. Back to the point though, for better or for worse, I am a stubborn ass. Because of this much needed motivation, here I sit today. A futbol playing, medicinal drug synthesizing, alone living, woman loving, Paki girl in LosScandalous, blogging about taking off my headscarf (the irony is not lost on me).

There was no Eureka moment, I think I gradually just realized that I din’t want to wear the head scarf anymore. Despite what my personal statement for law schools says, taking courses on Gender and Islam and learning how to critically question Islamic traditions wasn’t really the turning point. It definitely helped in easing my mother into the decision and convincing her I wouldn’t necessarily burn in hell (or trying to at least). I just slowly din’t see a need to continue fulfilling an expectation, especially letting that be the reason for something that should come from a deeper place. Maybe figuring out I was gay and “living a gay lifestyle” (rolls eyes) released one of the safety nets wearing a hijab had offered me. Maybe I just reached a point were I was tired of people seeing my headscarf first, and me later. And I would be lying if I denied that it is easier to stop wearing the headscarf than continuously challenging the stereotypes that people associate with it.

I took me two years to do it. Two years of trying to talk to my family, reaching a point where I was 90% sure my mother would not actually disown me (she did for two weeks though). Two years of worrying about playing into the oppressed-muslim-woman-saved-by-the-west narrative. Two years of trying out bandanas, hoodies, head wraps and anything else I could get to stay on my head. I finally took the comprised way out which was to wait till I graduated from my white sub-urban campus so I din’t have to deal with the stares and the questions and all that nonsense.

I stopped wearing my headscarf the day after I graduated. And if I ever thought that would be the end of it, the experience of the last eleven years has had something else in store for me. How complicated can it be to stop wearing one item of clothing? When that item has been assigned a history and a present and a symbolism that has and can define, control and liberate a whole religion worth of women, I guess the answer is very.

Coming up: Shifts in my racialized and sexualized interactions in Los Angeles.