Cranky Muslimah tells it like it is.
Dear Mona Eltahawy,
Salaam,
You don't know me, and I don't know you, but golly you sure seem to think you do. Look, let's be real with one another for a few minutes. No posturing, no hyperbole, no judgement, let's talk as sisters not only in faith but simply as women. Just two grown up women having an overdue discussion. You seem to have a great many opinions on how I should be allowed to dress, the life I should want to lead and the things that I should want. I'm not exactly sure where you got the idea that I needed someone to speak for me or tell me what to do but somewhere along the way I think you forgot something important.
Being free means being free to make my own choices. Even if those choices are something you don't approve of or indeed, something you find personally abhorrent. You choose not to wear Hijab, in any sense of the word. Okay, that is your decision to make. Do you, it's not my problem and frankly I couldn't give a fiddlers fart in a windstorm about what you choose to do with your life or your faith. Your religion is between you and God. In the end, when all things are said and done and our time on this earth has flown away, we stand alone and naked before the one who made us, clothed only in those acts of kindness and piety which we have performed in our time here on earth.
On that day there can be no excuses, no untruths, no prevarications, we are weighed and measured and can only hope not to be found wanting. When that day comes for me I want to be able to stand there before he who made me and say, look. Look at this woman that you have created, at this soul that you have fashioned in your infinite wisdom and have held like a pearl in your great hand. She has remembered you. She has tried to be kind, to be patient. She is not perfect but she loves you with an open and honest heart. She has tried, even if she has not always succeeded.
That is what I want, but the path to reach it is long and frustrating, and difficult to navigate. Yet, that path is mine to choose. I'm not married, I didn't choose Islam because I married a Muslim man. Or because I was born into a Muslim family. I didn't choose it to be cool or trendy or avant garde. I chose Islam because I was on my knees alone in the dark and there was nothing left in me but sorrow. When all hope had slipped away like sand through my fingers ....there in the dark I found a tiny flicker of light. It was small, as fragile as a butterflies wings...but it was there and I might never have seen it if my mettle had not been tested by the fire of life. Slowly , inch by inch I nurtured that flame as best as I could. I made mistakes along the way, I'm human. Of course I did. I lost patience, I let the world around me pull me away from that light, but each time I fought my way back. Along the way, I found things that gave me comfort. Small things to be sure, but precious to me none the less. The day I put on hijab was the first time in my entire life that I was satisfied with the woman looking back at me from my mirror.
My body is mine. Mine to expose or conceal as I deem appropriate, what I choose to do or wear is choice alone to make. Look at me, oh my sister and understand that my decisions are only mine and while you chose a different path, this one was the one that called to me. My path to Jannah is mine to walk. You're not doing me any favors by trying to shame me for simply choosing a different life than yourself. You say my veil and abaya are oppression. Perhaps they are for you, but for me they are peace, they are joy, they are comfort in the dark. They are a reminder that I am loved. That I am precious to he who made me. That my worth is not measured by how fair my face or body is, but for the content of my character. Stop making up my mind for me. Stop speaking for me, I have a voice of my own, thank you and I will use it when I see fit to do so. Not an instant before. By judging me you only prove yourself to be a hypocrite. You say you are for women's rights, yet you're trying to take mine away from me..how's that for irony. Just stop it, because you do not speak for me. You will never speak for me. If you want to do something sensible about women's rights, try fighting for us to simply have the right to choose what path we take, no matter which one it is.
You have to stop trying to manage other people's religion. It will only end in tears eventually. I'm not stupid, nor am I guided/oppressed/controlled by anybody but myself. Every religion has its fruitcakes. I love the works of Allah's hands but I totally admit that his fanclub can get crazier than a thirteen year old girl at a Justin Beiber concert. Anyway, just...think about it. If my veil makes me happy, who are you to take that away from me? If it comforts me and gives me peace who are you to judge me?
I wish you the best, my sister. I truly hope you find whatever it is in life that brings you joy. I found mine, and though it was a long time coming it was worth it in the end. Look at me, my sister, just look past your own expectations and distaste for what I wear for a moment and see me for who I am... instead of as a cause to be championed.
Sincerely,
A Cranky Muslimah.
Salaam,
You don't know me, and I don't know you, but golly you sure seem to think you do. Look, let's be real with one another for a few minutes. No posturing, no hyperbole, no judgement, let's talk as sisters not only in faith but simply as women. Just two grown up women having an overdue discussion. You seem to have a great many opinions on how I should be allowed to dress, the life I should want to lead and the things that I should want. I'm not exactly sure where you got the idea that I needed someone to speak for me or tell me what to do but somewhere along the way I think you forgot something important.
Being free means being free to make my own choices. Even if those choices are something you don't approve of or indeed, something you find personally abhorrent. You choose not to wear Hijab, in any sense of the word. Okay, that is your decision to make. Do you, it's not my problem and frankly I couldn't give a fiddlers fart in a windstorm about what you choose to do with your life or your faith. Your religion is between you and God. In the end, when all things are said and done and our time on this earth has flown away, we stand alone and naked before the one who made us, clothed only in those acts of kindness and piety which we have performed in our time here on earth.
On that day there can be no excuses, no untruths, no prevarications, we are weighed and measured and can only hope not to be found wanting. When that day comes for me I want to be able to stand there before he who made me and say, look. Look at this woman that you have created, at this soul that you have fashioned in your infinite wisdom and have held like a pearl in your great hand. She has remembered you. She has tried to be kind, to be patient. She is not perfect but she loves you with an open and honest heart. She has tried, even if she has not always succeeded.
That is what I want, but the path to reach it is long and frustrating, and difficult to navigate. Yet, that path is mine to choose. I'm not married, I didn't choose Islam because I married a Muslim man. Or because I was born into a Muslim family. I didn't choose it to be cool or trendy or avant garde. I chose Islam because I was on my knees alone in the dark and there was nothing left in me but sorrow. When all hope had slipped away like sand through my fingers ....there in the dark I found a tiny flicker of light. It was small, as fragile as a butterflies wings...but it was there and I might never have seen it if my mettle had not been tested by the fire of life. Slowly , inch by inch I nurtured that flame as best as I could. I made mistakes along the way, I'm human. Of course I did. I lost patience, I let the world around me pull me away from that light, but each time I fought my way back. Along the way, I found things that gave me comfort. Small things to be sure, but precious to me none the less. The day I put on hijab was the first time in my entire life that I was satisfied with the woman looking back at me from my mirror.
My body is mine. Mine to expose or conceal as I deem appropriate, what I choose to do or wear is choice alone to make. Look at me, oh my sister and understand that my decisions are only mine and while you chose a different path, this one was the one that called to me. My path to Jannah is mine to walk. You're not doing me any favors by trying to shame me for simply choosing a different life than yourself. You say my veil and abaya are oppression. Perhaps they are for you, but for me they are peace, they are joy, they are comfort in the dark. They are a reminder that I am loved. That I am precious to he who made me. That my worth is not measured by how fair my face or body is, but for the content of my character. Stop making up my mind for me. Stop speaking for me, I have a voice of my own, thank you and I will use it when I see fit to do so. Not an instant before. By judging me you only prove yourself to be a hypocrite. You say you are for women's rights, yet you're trying to take mine away from me..how's that for irony. Just stop it, because you do not speak for me. You will never speak for me. If you want to do something sensible about women's rights, try fighting for us to simply have the right to choose what path we take, no matter which one it is.
You have to stop trying to manage other people's religion. It will only end in tears eventually. I'm not stupid, nor am I guided/oppressed/controlled by anybody but myself. Every religion has its fruitcakes. I love the works of Allah's hands but I totally admit that his fanclub can get crazier than a thirteen year old girl at a Justin Beiber concert. Anyway, just...think about it. If my veil makes me happy, who are you to take that away from me? If it comforts me and gives me peace who are you to judge me?
I wish you the best, my sister. I truly hope you find whatever it is in life that brings you joy. I found mine, and though it was a long time coming it was worth it in the end. Look at me, my sister, just look past your own expectations and distaste for what I wear for a moment and see me for who I am... instead of as a cause to be championed.
Sincerely,
A Cranky Muslimah.