What do you see when you look at my face? Loneliness, isolation, seclusion? What do you see when you look in my eyes? Dejection, desperation, dreariness? I am a Muslim woman, after all. I am both visible and invisible to people around me. They cannot see me, yet they know that I am a living being, breathing and walking beneath my veil.
About half of the people I meet on the street stare at me with curiosity or surprise, while a quarter look at me with apparent disgust. The rest see me with sympathy in their eyes. A few of these people sometimes try to talk to me. This delights me.
People on the street cannot actually perceive how I feel about myself or my faith. Inside, I feel only the warmth of someone who infuses me with courage and confidence. In spite of all the looks I receive, I am comfortable with myself and joyful in spirit.
As I walk on the streets, a friend walks beside me. This friend shares all my suffering and sorrows. Without words, He knows what is inside my heart and I trust Him in every thing I do. He guides me through both dark tunnels and gardens, showing me the thorns hidden among the flowers. I put all my troubles in front of Him and He consoles me. I put all my happiness in front of him and he encourages me.
I choose to wear the veil because I see wisdom in it. I would rather be judged on the basis of my inner qualities than by my external attributes. Therefore, I choose to show only those parts upon which I would like to be considered as a person.
I can ignore the scornful looks because I know that I am being guided through difficult times and that I am blessed with so many things, most of which I did not even ask for. My covering is a symbol of a friendship and mutual accord with Allah鈥擨 am happy in this friendship and joyful in my faith. I am grateful to have others to talk to no matter how they see me.
Afifa Naz published this in the Summer 2001 Issue of Radix Magazine while she was a U1 Math and Computer Science Student
