Welcome to March! I hope you've been enjoying the lovely spring weather. As a senior, March has proven to be a very stressful month, first with waiting for admissions decisions letters and now with trying to make a decision on where I'd like to be for the next four years of my life. So with that, a lot of the items that I'm using this month are to help me keep up with the workload I'm currently taking on, whether it be some easy organizational staples or versatile jewelry that can be worn day to day with any outfit.
I hope you enjoyed seeing my favorite items from March!
0 Comments
Unveiled: |
| Most people think of a scarf as a fun accessory for cold days, but at a place in history, the scarf was one of the most American symbols possible. I’m sure you’ve seen the images of Tippi Hedren, Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, and Marilyn Monroe sitting in convertibles, silk Hermes scarves wrapped around their heads, sunglasses perched on their noses, hair peaking out. They were the image of glamour. |
But now, a scarf on the head, not so pretty of a picture in your mind. In recent years, this one piece of fabric has gone from fun and flirty to a symbol of oppression and submission. This new interpretation stems from the scarf as a religious item. It’s part of a larger conversation on the presence of Islamophobia and the Islamic concept of hijab. |
Hijab is defined as the obligation that Muslim men and women have to practice modesty in certain areas of our lives with the most well-known being the way we dress. For a Muslim woman, the covering of her body sometimes includes what you see me wearing here today: a headscarf, commonly known as “the hijab” with the slang term “hijabi” referring to a woman who wears a hijab.
And, the reason that I specify this as a “sometimes” thing is that, like in all religions, it’s always up to the individual on what they choose to practice. Even the specific parameters on what is supposed to be covered and in front of whom is up to interpretation, but the usual idea is that you cover your hair in front of men who are not related to you. In the end, choosing to wear a hijab full time is a decision that comes down to a woman’s personal relationship with God.
However, it usually does come with judgement from her friends, her family, and strangers alike. I know for me, at 13 years old, telling my family and friends that this was something I wanted for myself, some of those voices said “why now? Why not wait a few years?” or “what if you regret your decision?”
I was never shaken by these questions because I’ve inherited that Khan family stubbornness when it comes to the things I want in life. But the one voice that frightened me came from my uncle, saying “Beta, just remember, you have to represent Islam well.”
I brushed it off at first. I was like, “well yeah, Chachu, I’m amazing how could I not represent Islam well”. This idea of being an ambassador to Islam didn’t really register in my mind until I actually had to live it. I think every hijabi and even every Muslim understands the experience, when your headscarf or how you look has marked you as a spokesperson for Islam. It means scouring your mind for every tidbit of information you learned in Sunday school just to get through a normal day.
And, the reason that I specify this as a “sometimes” thing is that, like in all religions, it’s always up to the individual on what they choose to practice. Even the specific parameters on what is supposed to be covered and in front of whom is up to interpretation, but the usual idea is that you cover your hair in front of men who are not related to you. In the end, choosing to wear a hijab full time is a decision that comes down to a woman’s personal relationship with God.
However, it usually does come with judgement from her friends, her family, and strangers alike. I know for me, at 13 years old, telling my family and friends that this was something I wanted for myself, some of those voices said “why now? Why not wait a few years?” or “what if you regret your decision?”
I was never shaken by these questions because I’ve inherited that Khan family stubbornness when it comes to the things I want in life. But the one voice that frightened me came from my uncle, saying “Beta, just remember, you have to represent Islam well.”
I brushed it off at first. I was like, “well yeah, Chachu, I’m amazing how could I not represent Islam well”. This idea of being an ambassador to Islam didn’t really register in my mind until I actually had to live it. I think every hijabi and even every Muslim understands the experience, when your headscarf or how you look has marked you as a spokesperson for Islam. It means scouring your mind for every tidbit of information you learned in Sunday school just to get through a normal day.
To me, it was a little bit scary to feel like I had to answer for everything every Muslim in all of history had done. So much of what people asked me about came from a negative view of Islam: no one asked me about what it’s like to go perform pilgrimage or learn to read Arabic-- which are some of the most amazing experiences I’ve had in my life. Instead, they asked about Osama Bin Laden and 72 virgins. |
This twisted image of Islam really came from a stereotype of my religion that Islamophobia had sparked. September 11th, 2001 created an environment where a grief-stricken and heart-broken public turned their fear and anger into misinformed vitriol. They acted against Muslims or people who just looked like they were of Arab-descent, even if that included their friends and neighbors. The amount of anti-Muslim hate crimes went from 28 cases in 2000 to 481 in 2001. Even a Christian church with a Middle-Eastern congregation was set on fire 12 days after the attacks. So on one hand, there was the fear that non-Muslims had for this strange religion that they didn’t quite understand. It had been used as the reasoning for an act of violence. On the other hand, there was the fear that Muslims had for their own safety. For many women in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, wearing a headscarf felt as if they were placing a target on themselves. The hijab had become a symbol of the outcasts Muslims were in society. |
The world after 9/11 was different, but for me, I was practically born into it. I was only 2 years old at the time of the attacks, and I didn’t even know what the numbers “nine eleven” meant until 4th grade. I heard kids at school whispering about them after I mentioned that I was Muslim. So, curious as I was, I tried to Google it. I typed the numbers in 9-1-1, and at first, all that came up was the emergency phone number.
Finding out about 9/11 made me determined to talk about religion more, learn about it for myself as well, and make it a bigger part of my life.
In 7th grade, I was halfway finished with memorizing the Qur’an and earning the title of hafiza. It had been a dream of mine for a while, and when I got to that halfway point, I realized that there was no going back for me. Religion would always be a priority in my life, and really the next big step to commit myself to this relationship with God was wearing hijab full time. |
On April 16th, 2012, I wore a headscarf to school for the very first time. I was scared out of my mind at what people would say about me, but at the same time, I was comfortable. I got to take the love of my community at the mosque and the inspiration of the Qur’an with me everywhere I went. My bright and sometimes multicolored scarves became a symbol of empowerment for me. Hijab is a choice I make every single day of my life and never once regret. |
The problem with comments like this is that my beauty does not lie solely in my hair. Beauty is beyond physicality-- I’m not any less pretty without my body, and I’m allowed beauty regardless of it. To me, wearing hijab is a reminder that my beauty is in what I learn, how I grow, the world that I create around me.
| There are a lot of hijabis out there who embody this message for me. Even in a world where Muslim women who wear hijab are more likely to face discrimination that those who don’t, these hijabis challenge stereotypes, combat the fear of Islam, and make a name for themselves. These women are fashion bloggers, makeup artists, CEO’s, journalists, Olympic medalists, legislators. |
These women have not only taught me that Muslims can be game-changers and change-makers, but that I don’t have to hide my faith. Most importantly, these women have taught me that although hijab is part of my identity, it doesn’t necessarily define it.
Nowadays, rude comments about my headscarf still shake me up, but I’m no longer fearful of what people think of me. I blog about my outfits as part of the world of hijab fashion. I speak openly about religion and why it feels like home to me. I’m confident in my identity as a Muslim-American teenager living in the post-9/11 world. But there was one day that I will never forget.
Many times, you’ll hear people talk about where they were when 9/11 happened. I don’t know where I was. I might’ve been drawing on my sister’s textbooks or watching Sesame Street.
Nowadays, rude comments about my headscarf still shake me up, but I’m no longer fearful of what people think of me. I blog about my outfits as part of the world of hijab fashion. I speak openly about religion and why it feels like home to me. I’m confident in my identity as a Muslim-American teenager living in the post-9/11 world. But there was one day that I will never forget.
Many times, you’ll hear people talk about where they were when 9/11 happened. I don’t know where I was. I might’ve been drawing on my sister’s textbooks or watching Sesame Street.
But I do know where I was on November 9th, 2016, the day after the US Presidential Election. I woke up that morning, remembering how I had sat all night in front of the TV with my parents, my heart slowly sinking as the polls rolled in. That morning, I Googled it again just to make sure. “Presidential election results”. |
That morning, for the first time in almost 5 years, I didn’t want to wear my hijab. It felt like a little part of that girl in 7th grade died that day. I was going to live the next 4 years of my life in a country where people believed this was not only acceptable, but worthy of their support. The fear for my own safety was there, and it was so real. But I wore my hijab anyways. |
That day, wearing it wasn’t about empowerment or beauty. It was about identity. It was about feeling the pain of every Muslim in my community, every Muslim who was waking up to the same news. It was about supporting the people whose lives were in a worse condition than mine , the people who were suffering from the real threats to Islam, the real terrors of the world. It was about knowing that fear should never make your decisions for you.
I don’t know how the next few years are going to pan out, but I know that I can’t forget the lessons I’ve learned along the way. And, if there are any words of wisdom I value now more than ever, it’s a quote from Marie Curie.
“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.”
I don’t know how the next few years are going to pan out, but I know that I can’t forget the lessons I’ve learned along the way. And, if there are any words of wisdom I value now more than ever, it’s a quote from Marie Curie.
“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.”
Insha Khan
Welcome to my blog!
Archives
June 2018
May 2018
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
October 2016
Categories
All
DIY
Influenster Reviews
Ipsy Glam Bag Reviews
On My Desk