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

Jemima Fridays

Prayer helps us in times of need, especially when we are lost or don't know what to do in a trying situation.

The next day serves as a rescue of sorts from the humiliation of art class. I have always loved Fridays. Not because they're Fridays but because, you know, they're Fridays. It goes like this: the fact that Fridays lead into the weekend are just an added bonus.

My actual reason for loving Fridays is Jum'ah prayer. It's a special prayer in the mid-afternoon that follows sermons that are incredibly inspiring. I like listening to the passion that comes from the imam, or spiritual leader- kind of like a priest- during a sermon, or khutbah. It's awesome to see Muslims from all backgrounds coming together for a special day. The outfits people wear are always spectacular; it's like a fashion show. In a nutshell, Fridays are the best days, and I definitely needed a pick me up after that whole episode in art class.

Every Friday, when Deena and I were younger, Abba used to let us pick out shapes and he would make Aunt Jemima pancakes for us in those shapes. We started calling Jum'ah Jemima instead, being kids and all, I guess. But the name stuck. Today was Jemima Friday.

I'm excused from classes until after Jum'ah prayers on Fridays, which is awesome. Less school, less owning up to embarassing myself in front of what felt like the entire school.

After getting clean and dressed, I head down the stairs and take a deep, delicious breath. The pancakes smell great! When I get in the kitchen, I find Abba and Deena there. I say my salaams and sit beside Deena.

"You look a little down," Abba notices. "Do you want to pick out a shape?"

"Star." While Abba gets started, I tell them what happened. Minus the Major part, of course.

"So are they asking me to replace the items you wasted?" Abba widens his eyes. Always concerned about cost, that one.

"No, Abba. It's just... the situation was really embarrassing."

Deena tosses her hair at me. "You're blowing this whole thing out of proportion," she says. "It's not that big a deal."

"But it is! I waited years for this, and-"

"You waited years to be covered in paint?" They both exclaim.

"Um. No, I mean... never mind!" My face flushes. I couldn't tell them about Major!

In the nick of time, Ummi walks in. I always notice how alike we are when I look at her. The same icy blue eyes, perky nose, and wide smile. Deena has Ummi's thick, black hair, and Abba's brown eyes and straight nose. Ummi stands beside Abba.

"Yasmeen, your pancakes, my lady," Abba says with a flourish. "Bon appétit."

I giggle and eat.

"Ummi, Yasmeen has apparently shamed herself publicly in school, and wants us to move back to Palestine." Deena snickers.

I shove her and turn to Ummi. "I said no such thing! Is it such a crime to be a little embarrassed?"

"Not when you're totally exaggerating." Deena adds.

"Calm down, the two of you. What is this all about?"

After we tell her, she smiles. "Everyone reacts and sees a situation differently. Yasmeen is completely entitled to her take on the incident, and so are you, Deena." She says wisely. "Now, let's get ready to go to the mosque for prayers."

As we put on our coats, I ponder. Am I overreacting? Or does the situation only seem worse because Major was there?

I decide I'm definitely going to pray on it.