By Sumaiya Rabeya
“Why do you hate me?” I was caught off guard with that question. I looked toward this 20 something-year-old man, whom I had known for about a year. He was the supervisor in charge of assigning cleaners to my home. The cleaners were girls so I did not cover my face with a niqab around them. But, when their manager came to pick them up, I always stepped aside to put my niqab on and then, casually converse with him. He noticed this before, but never mentioned anything or asked any questions. However, when my mother was visiting me one time and upon seeing the man, scurried off into another room, he became utterly disheartened. “Why do you hate me?” He asked. “Why do you hide your face when I come? Your mom doesn’t even want to say ‘Hi’ to me. Is it because I am not Muslim? Do you guys not talk to people who are non-Muslim?”
“No, no. Because you are a guy,” I said. He looked puzzled. His prompt question gave me new insight into things. It made me realize how, as a niqabi woman, I held the entitlement that everyone should be aware of my practices and respect my choices by default!
I started my niqab when I was a teenager. And the attacks werealmost immediate. As a super ambitious girl, it was frustrating to keep proving my self-worth only because I had an extra layer of clothing on me. I had to amplify my self-confidence as my self-defence. However, ٱلْحَمْدُ لِلَّٰهِ as I tried to defeat one hurdle after another, my self-confidence boosted, but unfortunately, transformed into fragments of arrogance. Every encounter in a non-familiar environment was a war. I needed to win, I needed to make them accept me. This journey made me lose a very crucial element of my faith: empathy. I forgot that not all people are ignorant, some simply…don’t know.
Recently, a hijabi friend of mine shared with me her experience of talking to a man who was practicing his full hijab, that is lowering his gaze while talking to her. And it made her uncomfortable. See, how do we women feel when the table is turned? Are we really accepting the other gender, the men who practice their full hijab? Do we feel uncomfortable if a man stares down while talking to us because we are not used to or familiar with it? That may give us a taste of our own medicine. Men or women from other faiths may feel uncomfortable with our hijab/niqab. And we need to accept that with empathy, not as bigotry. As practicing people, we have a bigger responsibility to be more understanding. To deal with such incidences with care and knowledge. Once I took the time to explain my reasons to move aside and cover up, the man was not only humbled, but also amazed and perhaps, when he encounters another niqabi next time, his approach will be more different and more gentle. Therefore, we need to pack our vocabulary with words people can understand and associate with. After all, we people are, subconsciously, a team, learning how to communicate with and understand each other.
In fact, it is written in line 34 of “Surah As Sajda,” in the Qur’an, “And not equal are the good deeds and the bad. Repel [evil] by that [deed] which is better, and thereupon the one whom between you and him is enmity [will become] as though he were a devoted friend.”
Empathy is faith and faith is empowerment.
About Author
Sumaiya Rabeya is a researcher and content writer. She is the co-founder of a Malaysia-based media-production company. Rabeya is also a community volunteer, actively working on various projects related to Islamic dawah, social engagement and women. Born in 1989, she graduated with a degree in Politics and International Relations and is currently pursuing her Ph.D. in Gender Studies. Moreover, Rabeya has been working as a media content writer for over a decade. As a Bengali young mother, she feels responsible in creatively contributing to society.
Probably the best write up I’ve seen on the hijab in a while.