My Hijab Story
Hijab is the head covering required for all Muslim women to wear once they reach puberty, but I have to admit, I missed the train on this one for years. My family has always been moderately religious; we practiced the basics, but never really took time to understand the faith beyond the five daily prayers and fasting during Ramadan. Near the end of my sophomore year in college, I developed a strong interest to study Islam, and started to consider wearing hijab. At the time, my days were spent at the beach, doing anything and everything that didn’t involve what I was actually supposed to be doing, watching “Bad Boys II,” and organizing highly competitive Catch Phrase tournaments. A pretty normal part of my day also involved being pulled from the television kicking and screaming for Oprah because lacrosse practice started at 4 p.m.; I usually gave in when my teammates threatened me with bodily harm.
By the following year, the urge to cover my hair became stronger, and I sucked in massive amounts of Islamic information every chance I got. I would stay up all night talking to my uncle online; I asked him for advice and looked to him for guidance. I’m a pretty strong gal when left standing on my own, but I went to school in a place where I was only one of five Muslims on campus. Although my friends supported me in their own special way, I sometimes felt like no one could actually relate to me. When my uncle found a mosque about a half hour from where I lived, I was stoked. I started going there regularly and met some really dynamite women. I loved being in a place where I felt so at peace, but oddly enough, I didn’t feel like I could relate to those women either. They were older, working professionals that were married with children, and in my mind, I felt like everyone was more religious than I was. They all wore the traditional abaya, and that wasn’t something I saw myself clad in — at least not yet anyway. So here I was, sort of floating between these two worlds. When a handful of my college friends (who weren’t even Muslim) bought me hair wraps for my 19th birthday, I felt like God had handpicked all the people who were going to be with me on this journey.
I knew what I was trying to accomplish, but I wanted to start by setting realistic goals for myself. I wanted to embrace my new accessory with flare. I had chosen to take on something that I thought was liberating and beautiful, and I needed to make sure that – that feeling never went away. I started wrapping my hair with crochet belts I found at American Eagle, and began taking embryonic steps in changing my wardrobe. I remember only one moment in the last five years when I was frustrated over my decision to take hijab. In an act of total panic, I threw all my clothes on the floor and sat atop the heap, wondering what I would do with all my old things. My mom has always told me that every problem has a solution, and in that moment, I found mine. I decided that if I was going to change the way I dressed to please my Creator, I was going to do it the only way I knew how; with oversized jewelry, my favorite dress from The Salvation Army, and a Tod’s bag swinging in rhythm with every step I took as I marched into the mosque for prayer. Okay, I don’t really have a Tod’s bag, but you get the point.
After hijab, my personal style was never hindered – but embellished. I got a high from the challenge of putting together new outfits with the clothes I’d had for years, and I discovered a physical and internal beauty in myself that I never knew existed. When a native of Queens, N.Y. asked me if I was from SoHo, I danced a silent victory dance, and knew that the transformation had begun.
I had my “bad hijab days,” when my hair wouldn’t wrap perfectly, or I would struggle with finding the right fabric, but my clothes, in a strange way, suddenly made me feel protected and alive at the same time. One afternoon, as I was getting ready for class, one of my roommates came to my room, and stood in the doorway. I was standing at my mirror wrapping my hair, and she watched quietly for a few moments.
“Do you ever miss your hair?” she asked.
I smiled. It was such a profound question, asked in such a genuine way. It was also something I had never thought of. I continued to wrap and tuck the long layers of material around my bun, and turned to look at her. I was holding a piece of the fabric in my mouth, but smiled again, and shook my head ‘No.’
It was through my love for hijab, and my love for writing, that the idea for “The Closet” was born. In 2008, while working at The Washington Post.com, I thought of creating a style show about Muslim women. I pitched the idea to my editors, and with the help of a video journalist in the company, filmed a pilot episode. The pilot was hugely successful, but a lack of resources at the company gave me the final push to find a space where I could have my own creative freedom. In October 2008, I left the company to start Slice of Lemon.com, and in December started The Closet monthly video series. By March of 2009, my husband and I were packing up to move to Los Angeles, so I wrapped the series, and started the daily Closet posts about fashion that inspires me, and challenges me to find new ways to express myself through my clothes, while still keeping my focus first and foremost on what is most pleasing to my Creator.
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