hijab hubbub

For a long time, my hair was my signature – not because I wore a particular style, on the contrary, my hair was very versatile and I rocked many a “do’s”. I watched my mom do my sister's hair and I tried to pay attention when she did mine (when I wasn’t falling asleep that is). As a result, I learned how to handle hair at a very early age. In my wonder years, I wore my hair mostly braided or pressed, but in high school I discovered the miracle of natural texture and I never looked back. Afro puffs, gel-induced curls, head wraps, two-strand twists (referred to by a childhood friend as my ‘fake locks’), etc; I even colored it. Once while sitting in English class, my teacher looked out over the class and asked if I was present. When I raised my hand, she doubled back; told me that when I change my hair, I look like a different person (yeah, it was that deep). In college, my hair expanded and changed shape, along with my thoughts and perspective – full out afros, conditioner-saturated chignons, Iverson-inspired cornrows. I did neglect my hair a bit in college because I did so much braiding/twisting for my peers that when it was time to treat my own tresses I was too tired (in college I also discovered that I have a nice head for hats).

When I became Muslim, I’d been exposed to many sisters who practiced their deen differently – some covered, some didn’t, we all accepted each other and it was no big deal. (Some of the brothers thought it was a big deal, but that’s another post for another day…) I was comfortable with taking my time. “I would cover one day,” I told myself and others, “When I’m ready, I will do it. I don’t want to rush and then backslide later.” I felt very strongly that modest appearance does not a Muslim make, so I was content in my heart to take my sweet time. Years passed (really, I think two) and I still wasn’t covering – still not an issue. Then, one year I went to homecoming and stayed with my sister friend who was living with a Muslim family. In this family there was very inquisitive, outspoken young daughter. She asked me when I arrived if I was Muslim, and I said yes. Then she asked why didn’t I cover, and I had no answer for her. So I started covering that day. That was October of 2006. I’ve worn my hair out maybe 3 or 4 days since then (just to let it breathe, you know). And I’ve seriously considered not covering anymore. Some mornings the scarf just won’t lay right and it’s so frustrating. Some days my hair looks so fly that I just want everyone to see it. Some days I just don’t want anything on my head. So the plan was to stop covering when the new year came. The new year’s not particularly significant. It’s just easier to let on-lookers think it’s some sort of resolution rather than to explain my religious-internal-modesty-versus-vanity-versus-self-image conundrum. I just want to feel the most like myself that I possibly can.

But here’s the thing, somewhere over the course of the past 14 months, covering has become a significant part of who I am. Sure on a lax day I will wear a hat, but I cannot imagine going out without my hair covered. It would be uncomfortable – I would feel exposed. I told myself that in the new year I would be finished with my persnickety preoccupation with my hijab. Either I would stop covering and be fine with it or I would continue covering and shut up already! (Because, really Teresa, it’s only as deep as you make it and nobody wants to hear it any more.) I used to think that it wasn’t so big a deal; I do all the fundamental stuff, so what’s a hijab? Then it occurred to me, if the other components of this deen come easily to me, then that’s all the more reason to strive for this one. Others have substance abuse, fornication and heavier things to overcome, but I have this issue of vanity with my hair. It is my very own struggle, and maybe Allah (SWA) will be pleased with me for making the effort to submit in a way that would seem small by comparison but is so big to me.

So days before the new year arrives, I’ve made my decision. My hijab is here to stay. (And that’s all I have to stay about that. Seriously.)