Excommunicated, Ex-hijabi

It’s been 6 days since I took off the hijab. I am currently in my room. I’m listening to my mother and younger brother discussing me, and my decision. Right now, outside my room. That’s a great position to be in (I don’t know if you could sense the sarcasm).

It’s definitely a harder thing to do than I expected. The emotional pressures of my parents and family is still deafening. I am dealing with it better than I did a few days ago. I feel better. I feel like I can handle the criticisms of the people around me, but their blatant insults are a bit too harsh. It’s okay though. I can definitely handle it.

When I first confronted my dad about it 7 days ago, it wasn’t planned. I just put out there: “I’m not asking for you’re permission, I am just letting you know. I don’t want you to be surprised when you see me out not wearing it.” It definitely didn’t go well. The next day, as promised, I went out, and didn’t wear it. My dad decided he didn’t want to see me. That was tough for me, but expected, of course. I spent the next 2 days having lunch in my room because he specifically asked my mom to not let me have lunch with them. He can’t stand looking at me. My friends have been supportive though, and that definitely helped. Their kindness and love for me is what’s keeping me going. Though some of them definitely don’t approve, they still love me and respect my decision, which is all I ask for.

As for today, I was supposed to go to my family gathering, consisting of my grandparents and aunts from my mother’s side. My grandmother is a scary woman, and she is extremely religious. It is safe to say that my mother told me not to go, for my safety, of course. According to my sister, my grandmother cursed me out and blamed my mother for supporting me (which for the record, she most definitely did not support any of my recent shenanigans). My mom and sister came to my room to tell me all about it, and we had a good laugh. I’m really glad my mom can laugh about it now. I really am.

Okay. How to start this?

I think I’ll start from when and why I decided to start wearing the hijab. I was an impressionable teenager, influenced by my surroundings. Raised by a very conservative religious Arab family, I was thrust in an all girls Islamic school. In my extended family, I was the eldest girl not wearing the hijab. In school, I was one of 3 girls who wasn’t a Hijabi, so it felt like all eyes were on me. Everyone begged me to wear it, tried to scare me of the religious repercussions, and even resorted to shaming me on how I looked without it. I felt outed and alone for not wearing a scarf on my head.

Right before my eighteenth birthday came Ramadan and I knew that’s when I was supposed to wear it. “If you don’t wear it now, you’ll never wear it.” That’s the phrase that haunted my teenage soul, and god forbid I never wear it! God knows I desperately didn’t want to, but I felt pressured enough by family and friends to do so. My fear of what my family and friends thought of me was greater than the fear of what god thought of me, and that’s what ultimately led me to wear it. I am not proud, but at least I can admit that to myself now.

The five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

First year: Denial. I refused to accept that I hated wearing the hijab. I ignored it to the best of my ability and go on with my life.

Second year: Anger. I realized I hated it and it fueled me in a bad way. I noticed that my hate for the Hijab was finding its way to my faith, poisoning it quietly in the shadows.

Third year: Bargaining. I started telling myself, taking it off now and salvaging whatever is left of my love and faith to Islam is better than loosing my faith while wearing it. And hey, I am planning on wearing it after a few years, when I fully accept it!

Forth year: Depression. This one is tricky cause I have been struggling with depression before wearing the hijab, but after wearing it, things got messier.

Fifth year: Acceptance. My acceptance was different. I came in peace with the thought that I may never want to wear it, and now’s the time to take it off.