Hijabi Style: The Surprisingly Average Life Of A Teenage Muslim Girl

Hijabi Style

Faith guides us through life as a form of reassurance and a sense of hope. Faith in the idea that everything happens for a reason, as well as the belief that good and bad fortune are paired together to help us through all that we go through in life make it all that much easier.

After a few hectic teenage years, I've finally arrived at adulthood- and my wedding day. High school is over and done with, and yet I am just as close to my friends as I'd been back in my sophomore year.

I am back in front of the mirror I'd primped in for Hamzah, the memory a bittersweet one. A hand touches my shoulder as if it knows what I had been thinking. I look up into Tessa's eyes, her radiance shining through them. Her hijab is wrapped beautifully, and I smile at the idea of her change in faith. Her skin glows with her motherly charm as she rests her other hand on her growing tummy.

"This one really loves you, Yaz." Tessa smiles down at me. "He loves you more than any of us ever could."

"I know," I breathe shakily. "I love him so much, it hurts." I put a hand to my heart and smile at the thought of the man I will be marrying today.

"If I recall correctly," Deena says smugly as she enters my room. "A certain someone denied that they would even end up with Kennedy."

"Really?" I ask, feigning nonchalance. I know exactly what she's getting at.

"Yeah, really," my sister smirks at me. "You definitely owe me ten bucks."

"Oh, sissy," I respond, jumping on her and kissing her cheeks, careful not to ruin my makeup or hair. "I owe you so much more than that!"

"Ew, gross!" Deena yelps, wiping her cheeks. "I feel bad for Kennedy already."

Tessa and I laugh, and I notice that she clutches her stomach as she does so. "I can't believe you're going to be a mother, Tessa. It seems like just yesterday we were a couple of sixteen year olds trying our hand in love."

"And now we're a pair of twenty year olds still in love with the men that stole our hearts," Tessa says, smiling and obviously thinking of Hamzah.

"Don't forget that Tessa married Mr. Handsome!" Deena reminds us. Tessa giggles at the nickname we still use to this day for Hamzah.

"Any names in mind for the baby boy?" I ask, running my hand over Tessa's tummy.

"We're thinking of Habeeb," Tessa smiles, looking at me. "He who is loved. You know, since Ken won't be changing his name."

"Why is that, anyway?" Deena questions from across the room.

"It's because I've always loved him for who he is. Kennedy Williams is who he is. He's a track star who found his way home to Islam. He found his way home to me." I sniffle as those last words leave my lips, my heart pumping with such emotion.

"No crying!" Tessa chastises. "Your makeup shall not be ruined!"

I nod and giggle at her reaction as I blink away my tears. Deena walks over to me from the bed and takes a seat in front of me.

"Are you sad about the fact that it took you so many tries to find the right guy for you?" Deena asks nervously.

"No, actually. I don't regret a thing," I tell her. "My love for Major taught me exactly what love isn't. My brief engagement to Hamzah, as well as his feelings for Tessa prepared me for and showed me what love is. And then, Allah gave me Kennedy once He knew I was ready to love him."

"I hope I'm that lucky. Abba's setting up some proposals for me."

As I wrap a silk hijab around my carefully designed hairstyle, I advise my sister. "Allah never makes mistakes, Deena. Have faith in Him, and he will lead you to the right man, even if Abba can't."

I hug my sister one more time before I motion for all of us to go down stairs. Tessa goes first, guarding her stomach and clutching the handrails, as Deena and I follow.

At the bottom of the stairs is Kennedy, dressed in a baby blue thawb that exactly matches my gown. A tear rolls down his cheek as he looks up at me, and I want nothing more than to cling to him, safely tucked into his arms. I resist, however, and daintily make my way down the stairs.

When I reach my groom, I wipe away his tears while holding back my own, my heart bursting with my love for him. We clasp hands as we walk over to the imam that will be performing the ceremony.

Abba and Ummi are already seated by the imam, tears in their eyes at the thought of their first daughter getting married. Ummi touches our cheeks as we pass by her. Abba rises to take me from Kennedy, leading me to the imam.

Kennedy and I sit on opposite sides of the imam as our family faces us. Hamzah arrives just in time to sit beside his wife, but not before he kisses me on the cheek and whispers, "Barak-allahu-feeh!"

I look at Kennedy again, and the imam reads a few verses from the Qur'an before Ken re-proposes.

"Yasmeen Hasina, I want to spend my life with you. I want to love and protect you, and I want every one of your burdens to become mine. Will you marry me?"

Tears well in my eyes as I voice my agreement. "Qubool." I sign the marriage contract that the imam hands me.

"Kennedy James, I want to love you for as long as Allah permits. Each day that I am with you, I can't imagine what I could have done to deserve you. Will you marry me?"

"Qubool," Kennedy answers, also signing the contract.

The imam recites a few more verses, finalizing the ceremony. Everyone cheers, and Kennedy holds me close to him by wrapping his arms around my waist.

"There's no better style than hijabi style," Ken whispers, touching the soft blue fabric wrapped around my head.

It feels as if we are the only two people in the room, and I wish I could stay in his arms forever. A worry pops up in my head, causing me to pull away and look up at him.

"I'm sorry about your parents, Ken," I whisper, knowing that their absence must be hurting him.

"It's alright," he answers. But I know that it isn't, by the subtle droop in his shoulders.

Just then, a knock comes at the door. Abba opens the door to reveal two people I've never seen before. There is a man is dressed in a dark suit, and a woman in lilac dress. They seem to be Kennedy's parents.

Ken looks up and locks gazes with his father, who I realize looks a lot like him. Kennedy steps out to talk to his parents, as I pray that Ken's parents have come to make peace with him- to accept him again.

Abba and Ummi come over to me while I'm alone. "I always had a good feeling about that one," Abba says. "I knew he would be a good man for you."

"Thank you, Abba," I giggle, thinking back to all the convincing I had to do just to get Abba to allow Kennedy to live with us.

I hug Ummi tightly as she speaks to me. "We are so proud of you, Yasmeen. May Allah bless your marriage." Her words make me cry as I realize I don't want to leave my family. "No, child. Don't cry," Ummi continues. "We are family, and we will always be together, no matter where you are."

I nod fiercely and cling to both of my parents as Deena joins our embrace. Abba is the first to break the silence. "Time to go, habibti." He guides me outside to Kennedy, who introduces me to his parents.

"Bless you, child," Kennedy's mother says to me. "Take care of our son."

"I will, insha Allah," I answer with a smile. Ken's father touches my cheek and smiles back at me with tears in his eyes.

Kennedy then takes my hand and walks me over to our car and driver. We look back one last time at my family home and our waving family and friends.

Ken opens the door for me and then gets in himself. As the car pulls away from my home, I look forward to creating a new one with the man I love.

"Oh, Mrs. Williams," Kennedy says, resting his hand tenderly against my cheek as he leans in for our first kiss. "We've had the craziest lives just so that we could come to love each other."

"I don't know," I reply, grinning up at my husband right before our lips touch. "I'd say my life has been surprisingly average."