By Rumki Chowdhury
“I want to wear the hijab, at least on Fridays, to school,” said my 7-year-old daughter. Immediately, a plethora of questions film-stripped around my mind:
What are people going to think? Will they think that I forced her to wear it? Will they judge her for it? Will her friends accept her with the hijab? Will she become a complete outcast as a result? Isn’t she too young? Should I allow this?
Instinctively, I said, “No, you’re not allowed,” because of the above reservations I had, because I wanted to protect her from the majority white population of the school she attended at the same school that I taught English. I felt it was the right thing to do in preventing her from wearing the hijab and from making her own personal choice at the tender age of seven. My daughter had already memorized a larger portion of the Quran than I ever had; she was already asking deep questions about the world around us and soaking in all of the answers I could give to her in the simplest and most gentle forms. She was so much more mature than I ever had been at her age so I was not surprised that she was considering wearing the hijab. But I felt that she was innocent and I did not want to expose her to the harshness of a judgmental world where Islamophobia could tear her to pieces and discourage her from ever wearing hijab again. I felt that a simple “No, you cannot wear the hijab,” was the best response at the time.
Consequently, my daughter broke into tears, begging me to allow her to wear the hijab. I sat her down and asked her the following questions: “Do you understand that nobody at our school wears the hijab other than your mother?” “Do you understand that no other student at the school wears a hijab?” “Do you get that not everyone is going to understand it and they will ask you questions about why you are wearing the hijab?” “Do you understand that there is a possibility that your classmates may make fun of you or worse, bully you for it?” To every question, she answered, “Yes, I understand.” My heart melted and I felt so guilty for having prevented her from wearing the hijab. I had been wrong because for one, who was I to decide whether or not she was ready to choose it even for one day out of the week?! Secondly, who was I to discourage her when I should be encouraging her and praising her for her choice of a more modest life?
Children these days understand so much more than we know. From a young age, their eyes only open wider and wider to all levels of humanity: the good, the bad and the confounding. Yet, they absorb it in their own way, through asking questions to the adults around them, through asking questions to one another and most of all, through asking questions to themselves.
In discouraging my 7-year-old daughter from wearing the hijab, I had become no better than the judgmental people I was afraid she would have been exposing herself to nor the ones who stereotype me before I open my mouth or even worse, the ones who had called me names like, “terrorist” on a public train or “Osama bin laden” on the street.
As parents, we become so protective, but not all of our decisions are the right ones; our job is to make the best ones we can and we need to start by encouraging our Muslim children to become proud Muslims.
How did it go when my daughter wore the hijab on Fridays? Her friends and teachers said, “You look beautiful.” She was happy, but this Friday routine did not last long as the peer pressure to “fit in” eventually settled in with age. She is now 10-years-old and says, “I plan on wearing the hijab permanently when I am 16-years-old. I don’t want to wear it now.” And she makes this face where she wrinkles up her nose and gives me a nervous laugh like the thought of wearing the hijab now would be so strange for her…scary even. I understand, I have been there; after all, I grew up in a post 9/11 America and surrounded by non-hijabi friends. I can only pray that my daughter rediscovers that same courage she once had just three years ago, Ameen. And when that day comes and she asks me or even proclaims that she wants to wear the hijab, my instinctive response will be, “Yes!”
About the Author:
Rumki Chowdhury is Editor of World Hijab Day Organization. Moreover, she has her own editing services. She is an award-winning published author and poet. She has an MA in English Literature from Queen Mary University of London, a BA in English Writing from William Paterson University of New Jersey and an English Subject Teaching Degree from Gävle Högskolan in Stockholm, Sweden. She speaks Bengali and Swedish fluently! She has years of experience in the media and publishing worlds. Rumki lives with her husband and their three daughters.
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