Last night I went to Kent to hear a band called "The 7 Walkers." It was the first time this week I wondered if I should take off the hijab. After all, it was a rock and roll concert, and there would be beer there, and I would certainly stand out. But, I decided I made the commitment to wear the hijab for a week, and would only remove it in the privacy of my own home and with my own husband. So, off we went to the 7 Walkers, whose drummer hailed from the Grateful Dead. They played swamp-rock-boogie-blues--how could I not go? We bought tickets for this show long before the idea of wearing the hijab came to me.
The venue was the Kent Stage, a theatre well known to me from my college days. I threw more rice and toilet paper at the multiple screenings of the Rocky Horror Picture Show (RHPS) than I can care to remember. By comparison, this crowd was a lot less freaky than my RHPS friends, but it was a bit of time warp, with tie-dyed curtains behind the band and many people with long hair and hairy legs (not poking fun at hairy legs, mind you, it's a personal choice, just goes with the Grateful Dead ambiance...) putting down some pretty smooth dance moves.
The first thing I noticed about wearing the hijab was that it got really hot, really fast. What made it hotter was when I got up to dance. Here's where the hijab and my Western and secularized-anything- goes culture clashed. As I was down front of the auditorium, boogieing to the groovy sounds of the 7 Walkers, I slowly began to come to terms with the fact that wearing a hijab and dancing in public, around men who are not my husband, and shaking my groove thang is not a particularly Muslim thing to do. Or, at least, i didn't think so. (My Muslim friends should chime in here...) As I looked around the gentle mosh pit that enveloped me, I saw young women in all states of dress, just movin' and groovin' with little concern for what poked or prodded through their tank tops. If I was not wearing the hijab, I don't think I would have noticed or cared, frankly. They were just having a great time, leaping and dancing and jiggling. I take that kind of freedom for granted.
As I was noticing all of this, while trying to dance "discreetly," I also wondered why wearing the hijab, the abaya or the burqua, is seen as a way to help men control their sexuality. Most of the men who were dancing with their girlfriends didn't seem out of control; just guys who were enjoying the music and dancing with their girlfriends. It didn't appear to me that even the most vigorous female dancers were being stared at or visually pawed after. So what's up with that? Is men's sexuality so out of control that they can't dance to a Grateful Dead tune without wanting something more?
I tried to think about it as a Muslim woman might. For one thing, standing and jiggling one's parts in front of the opposite sex might lead to unmarried sex. That would be bad. Or, jiggling one's body in public would seem to be promoting self-expression over a more disciplined approach to one's relationship with God. That would be counter to the faith. So, going to a rock concert, wearing a hijab, and jiggling in time with the music probably was probably not the right thing to do last night. I doubt very seriously if a Muslim woman who tried to follow the faith would have gone to (a) a rock concert like the 7 Walkers (b) to a place where alcohol is regularly served (c) danced in front of men who are not my husband.
I also noticed the actual content of much of the songs, which--being a New Orlean's Blues-jazz kind of band, not surprisingly, were about heartache, loss, longing and waiting until the Midnight Hour to see that twinkle in her eye..." I never really thought about the lyrics until I listened to them as a person from another culture (in this case, Muslim) might. Thinly veiled (no pun intended) references to getting home late at night, got something to make you feel alright...etc, really doesn't work when you try to live a faithful life as a Muslim woman. Seemed to me that a Muslim woman could have both the twinkle and the propriety; but it's all in the context. You could dance like crazy--in private, but one's public life is determined by modesty, not enticing another, and not drawing attention to oneself.
Sunday is the last day for wearing the hijab. I had planned to remove it after the first service and before the second. It's been a truly eye-opening experience . Thank you all so much for your responses! See you all tomorrow. Kathleen
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Day 6 - A Trip to Walmart
I hate Walmart. Okay, I just had to put that out there. There are so many reasons why I hate Walmart that it could take up the entire blog. However, this is not about Walmart, it's about wearing the hijab to Walmart in Akron, Ohio in the middle of the day.
I went to Walmart to buy a few things that I was hoping to find, and as usual, they have half-stocked shelves, patched together, previously opened packages and in general, a feeling of 'whatever." Ah yes, this is not about Walmart, though, is it? It's about wearing the hijab in Walmart.
So, the good news is that I found some of the people in this particular Walmart dressed more unusually than I was. In fact, wearing a white and black hijab seemed almost normal by comparison. My presence barely raised an eyebrow when standing next to a woman who had unusually large, penciled in, plucked and tweezed eyebrows. My hijab was a non-issue when compared next to the woman who was wearing what looked to me to be a fairy costume. Although I was cranky about the whole Walmart experience, the good thing about it was the economic diversity and the "anything goes," appeal of such a place. The fact that we were all there, dressed in our various garb of self-expression, looking for the cheapest price (and yes, I was looking for inexpensive curtains or blinds), was the great common leveler.
I thought surely in Walmart I would get at least some surprised looks, or maybe even a comment or two, but people were polite, the women made eye contact and smiled, the men mostly ignored me (which is the point of wearing the hijab) so I just blithely sailed through Walmart, listening for the tell tale "beep beep beep" of my mother's scooter cart, which meant she was backing up, which could mean trouble.
I did take some delight, however, when mom narrowly missed a large stack of Charmain, or whatever paper product it was, which would have caused a terrific(albeit cushy) crash had she actually hit it. I fantasized about hopping on the scooter in my hijab and running into all the carefully constructed aisle displays of Cheese puffs or Brawny towels or diapers as some sort of rebellion against consumerism, but, that would have done a disservice to the hijab and, to mother, of course. She needed her scooter, and I needed to get out of there as fast as possible.
Tomorrow is the last full day of wearing the hijab. I'm actually looking forward to styling my hair again. I never thought I'd say that! I am going to try to get out of Cuyahoga County a little bit to see what it feels like out there in more rural America.
Wish me luck!
Blessings, Kathleen
I went to Walmart to buy a few things that I was hoping to find, and as usual, they have half-stocked shelves, patched together, previously opened packages and in general, a feeling of 'whatever." Ah yes, this is not about Walmart, though, is it? It's about wearing the hijab in Walmart.
So, the good news is that I found some of the people in this particular Walmart dressed more unusually than I was. In fact, wearing a white and black hijab seemed almost normal by comparison. My presence barely raised an eyebrow when standing next to a woman who had unusually large, penciled in, plucked and tweezed eyebrows. My hijab was a non-issue when compared next to the woman who was wearing what looked to me to be a fairy costume. Although I was cranky about the whole Walmart experience, the good thing about it was the economic diversity and the "anything goes," appeal of such a place. The fact that we were all there, dressed in our various garb of self-expression, looking for the cheapest price (and yes, I was looking for inexpensive curtains or blinds), was the great common leveler.
I thought surely in Walmart I would get at least some surprised looks, or maybe even a comment or two, but people were polite, the women made eye contact and smiled, the men mostly ignored me (which is the point of wearing the hijab) so I just blithely sailed through Walmart, listening for the tell tale "beep beep beep" of my mother's scooter cart, which meant she was backing up, which could mean trouble.
I did take some delight, however, when mom narrowly missed a large stack of Charmain, or whatever paper product it was, which would have caused a terrific(albeit cushy) crash had she actually hit it. I fantasized about hopping on the scooter in my hijab and running into all the carefully constructed aisle displays of Cheese puffs or Brawny towels or diapers as some sort of rebellion against consumerism, but, that would have done a disservice to the hijab and, to mother, of course. She needed her scooter, and I needed to get out of there as fast as possible.
Tomorrow is the last full day of wearing the hijab. I'm actually looking forward to styling my hair again. I never thought I'd say that! I am going to try to get out of Cuyahoga County a little bit to see what it feels like out there in more rural America.
Wish me luck!
Blessings, Kathleen
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Day 5 - Feeling Vulnerable
This morning I went out for a walk in my little town of Bay Village, wearing the hijab, of course. Although I noticed more curious looks, I met mostly women out on my walk and most of them smiled and kept walking, as they usually do. One man, driving a landscaping truck, seemed to look long and hard at me, as if he couldn't quite match a woman wearing a black and white hijab with what he usually sees in Bay Village, but nothing came of it. I didn't quite know what to do with my eyes; Muslim women are modest in both dress and demeanor; so, should I stare back or should I just ignore? I stared back, until he broke his gaze and turned the corner.
I was mostly aware of how vulnerable I felt in my own neighborhood; in a place where I've walked hundreds, maybe thousands of times at this point. Everything was the same--except for me. I was wearing something that said to the outside world "I am not you...I am not the same faith as you, I don't dress like you, I am the "other." It was an intensely uncomfortable feeling. In fact, I felt nervous at what "could" happen. I didn't like standing out so much and feeling like I was the only one. Now I know --in a way I didn't before--why people of color would not move to Bay Village unless there was a critical mass; where the shift from predominantly white to multicultural was 50% or more. The feeling of being alone, separate, wondering if others will be judging, asking questions in their minds "is she really going to fit in here?" was overwhelming. I know that this drama was all being played out in my own head; there was no one yelling at me to "go back to Iraq" or any such thing, but standing out made me feel like I had a target on my back.
I cannot imagine what Muslim women and men of color must have felt like after 9-11. The paranoia; the fear of being targeted, must have been very intense. It's no wonder that people want to live in communities where there are others like them; instead of, as a colleague wrote, just "add people of color (ethnic, class, etc) to the mix and stir..." Successful multicultural communities don't work that way.
However, I have to be honest here. I have never lived in a truly multicultural setting. When I visit my friends in Chicago, in Hyde Park, it's a multicultural feast; with African-American, Indian, Slovak, Polack, Jews, students, seniors, joggers, strollers, hawkers, tricksters, hustlers, Muslims, preachers, teachers, toddlers and teens all running or strolling or playing or talking in the public spaces that spill out into neighborhoods and it feels like the way the world should be. It's noisy, sometimes messy, always fascinating. I feel very alive there. When I come back to my neighborhood, I love it--it's quiet--it feels safe--and yet, I wondered, as I wandered this morning, where did the fear come from? Just the awareness of what it means to step into another's hijab? Is it feeling what people of color must feel every day of their lives? I also noticed how much energy it took to stay grounded and focused with the fear of what might happen--as irrational as that fear is. It took a lot of energy to just do my normal day to day routines while wearing the hijab in public. I kept waiting for the shoe to drop--the comment--the look--the nudge--the mark that sent the final message "she's not one of us."
It never came. Yet.
Tomorrow is another day.
Blessings to you all as we approach the 10th anniversay of 9-11.
A hard, heart day, indeed.
Kathleen
I was mostly aware of how vulnerable I felt in my own neighborhood; in a place where I've walked hundreds, maybe thousands of times at this point. Everything was the same--except for me. I was wearing something that said to the outside world "I am not you...I am not the same faith as you, I don't dress like you, I am the "other." It was an intensely uncomfortable feeling. In fact, I felt nervous at what "could" happen. I didn't like standing out so much and feeling like I was the only one. Now I know --in a way I didn't before--why people of color would not move to Bay Village unless there was a critical mass; where the shift from predominantly white to multicultural was 50% or more. The feeling of being alone, separate, wondering if others will be judging, asking questions in their minds "is she really going to fit in here?" was overwhelming. I know that this drama was all being played out in my own head; there was no one yelling at me to "go back to Iraq" or any such thing, but standing out made me feel like I had a target on my back.
I cannot imagine what Muslim women and men of color must have felt like after 9-11. The paranoia; the fear of being targeted, must have been very intense. It's no wonder that people want to live in communities where there are others like them; instead of, as a colleague wrote, just "add people of color (ethnic, class, etc) to the mix and stir..." Successful multicultural communities don't work that way.
However, I have to be honest here. I have never lived in a truly multicultural setting. When I visit my friends in Chicago, in Hyde Park, it's a multicultural feast; with African-American, Indian, Slovak, Polack, Jews, students, seniors, joggers, strollers, hawkers, tricksters, hustlers, Muslims, preachers, teachers, toddlers and teens all running or strolling or playing or talking in the public spaces that spill out into neighborhoods and it feels like the way the world should be. It's noisy, sometimes messy, always fascinating. I feel very alive there. When I come back to my neighborhood, I love it--it's quiet--it feels safe--and yet, I wondered, as I wandered this morning, where did the fear come from? Just the awareness of what it means to step into another's hijab? Is it feeling what people of color must feel every day of their lives? I also noticed how much energy it took to stay grounded and focused with the fear of what might happen--as irrational as that fear is. It took a lot of energy to just do my normal day to day routines while wearing the hijab in public. I kept waiting for the shoe to drop--the comment--the look--the nudge--the mark that sent the final message "she's not one of us."
It never came. Yet.
Tomorrow is another day.
Blessings to you all as we approach the 10th anniversay of 9-11.
A hard, heart day, indeed.
Kathleen
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Day 3 & 4 - Hair
I went to Great Northern Mall today and experienced some "looks" but nothing untoward or inappropriate. The most unusual experience I had today was encountering the three other women who were also wearing the hijab. I made eye contact with them, smiled but none of them smiled back. I wondered if they knew I was an imposter...
...I've been thinking about hair recently, since mine has not been showing. First of all, it was GREAT to dash out of the house with the hijab on and not have to worry about my hair. It got me thinking about how much time and energy I spend on personal grooming; time I could be spending in more prayer, deeper meditation, a better sitting practice. Instead, I have to designate a certain amount of time praying that my hair won't look like I just woke up. Just consider the enormous amount of time and energy women (in particular) spend on grooming products, brushes, combs, clips, rollers, blow dryers, flat irons, hair spray, hair paste, curling irons, straighteners, bows, ribbons, bands, color, dyes, tips and multiple trips to the salon. It's mind boggling, when you think about it and add it all up. So much energy spent on getting one's hair "just so." So much unnecessary worry about how one looks. It's been really illuminating for me to have that part of my life taken care of by the hijab.
I took the hijab off while trying on glasses for a few moments. There were no men around, so I thought it would be okay to do that before investing in glasses that I'm going to have for a while. I immediately thought "my hair is such a wreck!" Arrrghhh! The second thought was: "I feel so vulnerable." I realized that by wearing the hijab for a week, I actually liked having my head covered. It didn't make me think about God more, necessarily, but it did make me think about myself less. Wearing the hijab makes me feel--held--in some inexplicable way.
Having something on my head as a daily symbol of religious faithfulness is doing something to me internally. I'm praying more and in some way, holding myself more accountable for the values I profess. I understand now why my Catholic grandmother was never far from her rosary; her hands rubbing smooth the beads of the rosary that now hangs by my bedside.
I wondered what Unitarian Universalists might do or might undertake as a similar practice. We probably won't all adopt covering our heads, or carrying a rosary, but I wonder--what could I wear that would remind me that at all times, I'm a Unitarian Universalist; a person of faith, a person in relationship with God? What would that item or object look like? Some people choose tattoos or piercings; some way to permanently alter their bodies to say "this is a touchstone of my beliefs--my personality--or even, my faith." For me this week, it's the hijab, freely choosing to adopt it and to explore for myself what it means both for this week, and after September 11th when it's removed.
Again, I am pleased to report that with the exception of a few slightly startled glances, I experienced no oppression or harassment today because of the hijab. I hope and pray that holds true for all Muslim American women this week.
Blessings,
Kathleen
...I've been thinking about hair recently, since mine has not been showing. First of all, it was GREAT to dash out of the house with the hijab on and not have to worry about my hair. It got me thinking about how much time and energy I spend on personal grooming; time I could be spending in more prayer, deeper meditation, a better sitting practice. Instead, I have to designate a certain amount of time praying that my hair won't look like I just woke up. Just consider the enormous amount of time and energy women (in particular) spend on grooming products, brushes, combs, clips, rollers, blow dryers, flat irons, hair spray, hair paste, curling irons, straighteners, bows, ribbons, bands, color, dyes, tips and multiple trips to the salon. It's mind boggling, when you think about it and add it all up. So much energy spent on getting one's hair "just so." So much unnecessary worry about how one looks. It's been really illuminating for me to have that part of my life taken care of by the hijab.
I took the hijab off while trying on glasses for a few moments. There were no men around, so I thought it would be okay to do that before investing in glasses that I'm going to have for a while. I immediately thought "my hair is such a wreck!" Arrrghhh! The second thought was: "I feel so vulnerable." I realized that by wearing the hijab for a week, I actually liked having my head covered. It didn't make me think about God more, necessarily, but it did make me think about myself less. Wearing the hijab makes me feel--held--in some inexplicable way.
Having something on my head as a daily symbol of religious faithfulness is doing something to me internally. I'm praying more and in some way, holding myself more accountable for the values I profess. I understand now why my Catholic grandmother was never far from her rosary; her hands rubbing smooth the beads of the rosary that now hangs by my bedside.
I wondered what Unitarian Universalists might do or might undertake as a similar practice. We probably won't all adopt covering our heads, or carrying a rosary, but I wonder--what could I wear that would remind me that at all times, I'm a Unitarian Universalist; a person of faith, a person in relationship with God? What would that item or object look like? Some people choose tattoos or piercings; some way to permanently alter their bodies to say "this is a touchstone of my beliefs--my personality--or even, my faith." For me this week, it's the hijab, freely choosing to adopt it and to explore for myself what it means both for this week, and after September 11th when it's removed.
Again, I am pleased to report that with the exception of a few slightly startled glances, I experienced no oppression or harassment today because of the hijab. I hope and pray that holds true for all Muslim American women this week.
Blessings,
Kathleen
Monday, September 5, 2011
Day 2-Wearing the Hijab
Happy Labor Day, everyone. I only wore the hijab for about four hours today, while I had guests coming over for our Annual Service Auction Day brunch. In keeping with the custom, I wore the hijab when in the presence of men who were not my husband, brother, etc. I didn't go out and about all day, so I mostly had it off while in the privacy of my own home.
While getting dressed this morning, I realized that I had to rethink my entire wardrobe this week. Wearing the hijab with shorts and flip flops, was probably not in keeping with the spirit of modesty (even if the shorts were very long). Wearing a short sleeve shirt was probably not okay either. So, I put on a long sleeve t-shirt and long shorts, but told myself I'd put on pants if I went out in the world. I'd also put on socks and shoes.
I'm getting used to wearing the hijab. When I had it on during our brunch, I didn't notice it, until the conversation swirled around why I was doing this. There were different opinions offered around the table about the hijab, wearing an abaya vs. a burqua. Most around the table felt it was fine if a Muslim woman wanted to cover, but if it was mandatory, then that was not okay. I talked about the reasons why Muslim women want to cover:
So, I underestimate my own neighborhood and my conservative little town of Bay Village. Now mind you, that was one neighbor. Hopefully, this will hold true for the rest of the week and prove my theory true; that most Americans really are tolerant--and even proud of, living together in a multicultural society.
I hope my "athletic" hijab comes in the mail tomorrow. It's the one I bought to be able to run in. If it doesn't come--this should be very interesting...
See you all tomorrow!
Kathleen
While getting dressed this morning, I realized that I had to rethink my entire wardrobe this week. Wearing the hijab with shorts and flip flops, was probably not in keeping with the spirit of modesty (even if the shorts were very long). Wearing a short sleeve shirt was probably not okay either. So, I put on a long sleeve t-shirt and long shorts, but told myself I'd put on pants if I went out in the world. I'd also put on socks and shoes.
I'm getting used to wearing the hijab. When I had it on during our brunch, I didn't notice it, until the conversation swirled around why I was doing this. There were different opinions offered around the table about the hijab, wearing an abaya vs. a burqua. Most around the table felt it was fine if a Muslim woman wanted to cover, but if it was mandatory, then that was not okay. I talked about the reasons why Muslim women want to cover:
- Modest dress, for both women and men, is the Qu'ran as a spiritual practice.
- Being covered removes the temptation to objectify women by their appearance; i.e., makes them less of a sex object in the public eye;
- Reserving one's beauty for one's husband (I don't know if liberal Muslims have any thoughts about lesbian women being covered)
- Keeping one's focus on Allah and not on self
So, I underestimate my own neighborhood and my conservative little town of Bay Village. Now mind you, that was one neighbor. Hopefully, this will hold true for the rest of the week and prove my theory true; that most Americans really are tolerant--and even proud of, living together in a multicultural society.
I hope my "athletic" hijab comes in the mail tomorrow. It's the one I bought to be able to run in. If it doesn't come--this should be very interesting...
See you all tomorrow!
Kathleen
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Day 1-Donning the Hijab
Today, I put on the hijab (head covering). What started as a curiousity, became a reality today, for me and three other women at West Shore Unitarian Universalist Church. Because of my working relationship with at least one Muslim woman, and because of the friendships that women in my congregation have made with Muslim women, I wondered what it would be like to walk a week in their shoes, or in this case, a week in their hijab. I wondered what it would feel like to be identified as "the other" during the week leading up to 9-11. I also was curious about what it would feel like to be "covered," to have my hair neck, and shoulders completely under wraps. What would that be like--to live and move and have my being in the world with part of my identity hidden? I checked this out with a Muslim friend of mine, who told me that it would be a fine thing to do, and was interested in hearing more about my experiences, as a non-Muslim women.
This morning, three of us gathered at the church and we talked about the week and some guidelines:
- We would wear the hijab in public, as Muslim women do. We were permitted not to wear it in the privacy of our homes or with our spouses/partners present.
- If we were questioned about the hijab, or why we were wearing it, each one of us would give her individual reasons; i.e., "It's part of how I practice my faith," is one explanation; or "I am doing this in solidarity with my Muslim friends," or "I wanted to experience in one week what Muslim women experience every day." Every woman's reason for wearing the hijab will be different.
- We would be journalists; observing, writing down what happens, and keeping a private journal. I decided to create this blog for a week to explore with you--the readers--what does or doesn't occur.
- We'll remove the hijab at 10:45 a.m. on Sunday, September 11, following a brief prayer and time of reflection on our experience.
What I did notice, however, was how I felt. I noticed first, how protected I felt having my head covered. It's hard to explain, but I noticed first, how much less time I spent worrying about how my hair looked! Did the wind make my now almost pixie haircut stand up? Did I put too much hair styling paste in it and now I look goofy? All of that went away when I put on the hijab. I did feel a bit like that nun in the Sound of Music, however. There were times I wanted to break out singing "Climb Every Mountain...." but, fortunately, I stopped myself.
I also noticed how the other women were dressed, particularly the ones who were--um, immodest shall we say in their attire. Part of the reason why Muslim women "cover" is so that they are not the object of another's gaze, particularly the unwanted attention of others. In Western culture, a lot of time, energy and money is spent on appearances, on dressing attractively, on how sexy one can be. The hijab (combined with modest dress) takes that element away. When I encountered someone, I felt that they were encountering me, (albeit me wearing a headcovering) instead of the usual array of judgments or thoughts that I suspect most of us have or have been subjected to (i.e., thoughts about attractiveness, body issues & types, clothing choices, etc.)
When I got home, however, I was hot and really glad to be able to take it off. There were times when I felt the weight of the discipline of what I agreed to do. There were moments when I felt fear, although there was no reason to feel fear, that I stood "out" and could now be targeted as "the other." Fortunately, as I said earlier, the people I encountered today had no discernible reaction to a woman, wearing a hijab, wandering around Home Depot, on a Sunday night. Let's hope the rest of the week goes as well.
See you all tomorrow! Peace, Kathleen
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