Some Bittersweet Memories

Chapter Three

"Are you forced to wear that?"

I was gathering my books after class had ended when two girls cornered my desk. I glanced up in confusion.

"Sorry, what?"

"That uh... thing." One of them pointed to my hijab. "I'm not sure what it's called, are you forced to wear it?"

I compressed my eyebrows at her query. I was used to being asked things like that and sometimes, I got tired of having to repeat myself over and over again. But even if I got tired of such questions, it was my duty to answer every single time.

I gave her a friendly smile. "You can call it hijab or simply a headscarf," I replied and gestured to her denim shorts. "Were you forced to wear these shorts?"

The girl's face morphed into confusion and she snorted, crossing her arms, "of course, not. Why would you even ask that?"

"There, you have my answer too." I responded, keeping my smile firm. The smile was necessary—a sign to tell people you didn't mean them any harm.

"So then why are you wearing it?" The second girl countered, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "What I'm saying is, there are many other Mozlem girls and they don't wear the hajab. Do you wear it because of your parents? You know, you can take it off at school."

A frown made it's way to my face at her words. It hurt a little when people thought wearing hijab was equivalent to being oppressed. I mean, I didn't get it—if a woman had the right to show her body, she should also have the right to cover it.

I felt weird when people said 'take off your hijab and be you' because that was me, I was being myself. I wasn't repressed. In fact, I was following a religion that clearly said in it's Noble Book 'let there be no compulsion in religion' (2:256).

I wore hijab and I was liberated at the same time. People only got to see what I allowed and they couldn't judge me based on my appearance. In order to know me, they needed to acknowledge something much important first—my intellectuality and personality. I wasn't going to change for society and would continue to throw a big 'screw you' at beauty standards by keeping my hijab on.

Guess I need to be more clear about that.

I cracked a big smile and rose to my feet, facing the girls directly. "Wearing or not wearing a headscarf depends on the person and in Islam, you shouldn't force anyone to do something they don't want to do. So naturally, my parents never made me do anything I disliked." I took my binder in my arms and added, "as for the decision of wearing hijab, it's completely my own and I wear it for religious reasons."

"But why do you have to wear it for religion?" the second girl retorted again, not sounding happy with my response. Was she expecting me to have given the opposite answer?

I sighed inwardly as the girl continued, completely disregarding everything I had said and just clinging onto my last sentence. "You don't need anyone or anything to tell you how to live. This is a free country, you can do whatever the hell you want!"

I quirked my eyebrows at the irony of her statement and squinted my eyes. "Exactly, that's... that's why I wear hijab."

"What? No, I mean—"

"Hey look, it's sweet of you to be concerned about me but I'm neither being forced to wear hijab nor am I oppressed, alright?" I said in an easy tone, keeping our eyes connected. "You know when I do feel oppressed, though? When people tell me to take off my hijab. Why does it bother them if I cover myself?"