Wearing Hijab: Choice, Not Compulsion
“Muslim women are only human when they are burning their hijab, but not when they are wearing them while building their communities, resisting occupation or fighting for their right to wear them.”
— Dalia Mogahed
Even in this historical moment when Muslim women are so often reduced to what we wear, when the issues that we care about are reduced to how we dress, the hijab can figure small in many of our lives. Prior to this year, the hijab was something I never thought much about. In the rare moments that I did think about it, I pictured myself putting it on way down the line in my future, maybe after marriage, maybe after kids. I knew I wanted to wear it someday, just not any day soon. But during my most recent visit to Palestine in December of 2021, that changed on my own accord. I came back to the United States with a different mindset. I wanted to change, I so badly wanted to grow in my religion. It feels so easy to practice when you’re in a Muslim country—everyone around you is Muslim; your greetings, your goodbyes, your well wishes are all God-conscious. The call to prayer over the city five times a day, every day. The normalization of actually practicing your religion. They’re simple things that seem like nothing but become everything when you find yourself back in America wondering if you’re ready to commit to wearing something that others view as oppressive.
The desire to change is what drove my decision to start wearing the hijab. I knew that life in America made me complacent in my faith. It wasn’t that wearing the hijab would automatically make me a better Muslim or that I was a bad one because I didn’t wear one. That couldn't be farther from the truth—there are Muslim women in my life who don’t wear the hijab who are role models to me, from whom I’ve learned so much. But for me, I knew that I needed to do something that would encourage me to grow in my deen (way of life of a pious Muslim), a constant reminder that I am a Muslim whose ultimate goal is to reach paradise. Deciding to start wearing the hijab changed my outward appearance for the purpose of changing my inner self—because wearing it is so much more than covering the hair on my head.
Wearing hijab means carrying myself a certain way, speaking a certain way, being a walking representation of my religion. I would be wearing an ayah (verse) of the Quran. I would be identifiably Muslim.
It’s funny that these were the same reasons that made me hesitate when thinking of wearing the hijab. While all Muslim women face criticism, with non-hijab-wearing women often told that they are not true Muslims, I knew that hijabis are held to an entirely different standard. Because we are seen as representatives of the religion, we are harshly criticized for every flaw at a level that no others are. Being visibly Muslim and being a woman is the perfect combination for condemnation by multiple communities. Hijabi women who are not “modest enough” are criticized and shamed by our own brothers and sisters and at the same time demonized by non-Muslims for being too modest, too extreme, and of course oppressed. To this day I see my Muslim brothers and sisters telling women that they might as well take off their hijab because they are not wearing it properly. Instead of receiving support, our sisters who are practicing their faith are torn down and told that they are not good enough. I knew there would be no winning with people, but Alhamdulilah (praise be to God), I was making this choice for Allah and no one else.
And so here I am, almost a year into wearing the hijab, and I could not have ever made a better decision for myself, for my life in this world, and most importantly for my Akhira (afterlife). Wearing it made me want to be around other women who wear it and practice, which brought me to Rabata. Rabata brought me friends and inspiration and drive to be like the women I so admired. It fueled me in my journey to become a better Muslim, and it also brought me to RISE—where I now work to amplify the voice and power of Muslim women in my community through advocacy and civic engagement, leadership development, and storytelling. Before wearing the hijab I had a total of four Muslim friends; now I can’t even count the number of sisters I have.
I get so emotional when I think about how I was able to make this choice for myself. It was a choice that I made when I was ready, with absolutely no outside forces or factors. A choice that has brought me so much joy. But so many women do not get this choice. I think about the women in places like India and France, who are not allowed to wear their hijabs, and the women in Iran who are forced to. My heart goes out to Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Kurdish Iranian who was murdered by “morality police” on September 16 of this year for wearing her hijab in a way they deemed improper.
The women in these countries are facing opposite restrictions but fighting the same fight for their freedom to choose. Even so, the news of women in Iran being forced to wear hijab sparked a much fiercer fire in the Western world than the women who were forced not to.
If you find yourself feeling stronger feelings for Iranian women, know that this is a problem and consider that it is most likely stemming from internalized Islamophobia. Both restrictions come down to taking away a woman’s freedom of choice—both are injustices and forms of oppression that deserve equal amounts of recognition and anger. Many people see the hijab as a symbol of oppression in and of itself, when that couldn’t be farther from the reality of it. A woman deciding to wear the hijab for the sake of Allah is nothing but reward from Him and rewarding for herself. The satisfaction that comes from adhering to what our religion says is beautiful and valuable is only an added bonus.
No person, no government should ever dictate what another person wears or how they practice their religion. Hijab is an obligation in our religion, something that is mandatory for both men and women to wear, but no one can force another to wear it because there is no compulsion in this religion. We have the free will and freedom of choice to adhere to Allah's commands. The injustice these women are facing in these countries is the farthest thing from Islamic; the most important value in our religion is justice. The Quran tells us: “Stand up firmly for justice, as a witness to God, even as against yourselves or your parents or your kin, and whether it be against rich or poor” (Surah 4:135), meaning that justice is for all people and must be put before all else.
As someone who got to decide when to wear the hijab, I can see so clearly now what it means to have that freedom. I want this freedom of choice for everyone. There are many different outcomes I can imagine for myself if I had never been given the option. I could see myself resenting it and in turn resenting the religion, this religion that is perfect but has flawed people practicing it. I could see myself growing older and taking it off or wearing it and not fulfilling its purpose.
Deciding for myself that I wanted to wear it for Allah’s sake allowed for me to want to do better, for me to want to fulfill its purpose and to be a walking representation of this beautiful religion.
I will never forget the first time I was greeted “assalamualaikum” (peace be upon you) by a stranger while I was out in public. I was so taken aback. The greeting initially confused me, because in my entire 22 years, no Muslim stranger in the United States had ever greeted me with “assalamualaikum” because they never knew I was Muslim. My immediate thought was, “how did they know?”—then the obvious finally hit me, and I almost teared up from all the emotions that came rushing. I write these words and tell this little story knowing how insignificant it reads, but with that exchange I felt as if 22 years of experiences had led up to this one moment where I realized how happy I was. I couldn’t be prouder of myself in how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time spiritually and in all other corners of my life. I know that everything in my life is by the blessings of Allah, and I couldn’t be more grateful that I was granted the circumstances and the blessing of having the choice to fall in love with this religion and my hijab the way I did. I thank Him every day for guiding me, for taking ten steps towards me when I took one towards Him, for running to me when I came walking.
Nafiza Hasan recently graduated from the University of Minnesota with her degree in communication studies and now serves as Communications Coordinator at Reviving Sisterhood. She supports our communications strategy to develop deeper connections with our digital sisterhood. Before joining the RISE team, Nafiza worked at Rabata Cultural Center and Daybreak Bookshop, where she became immersed in the local community of Muslim women. She is passionate about working within nonprofit organizations to enact positive, lasting changes in the community.