Editor’Space May 2012

Bismillah
Like many sisters, the story of my growth as a Muslim can be illustrated by my relationship with my hijab, right back to my earliest encounters with Islam.

As a non-Muslim, I had nothing but scorn for what I viewed as the clearest expression of Muslim women’s oppression: the veil. Like many women, I believed that Muslim women were forced to cover themselves by overprotective fathers and jealous husbands – why else would they agree to smother themselves with yards of fabric, even on the hottest days, in the hottest parts of the world? In truth, I had always seen the act of covering oneself as an act of weakness signalling a lack of confidence: why did these women feel they had to hide from the world?

A chance meeting in Egypt radically changed my perception of the hijab.
While I was in the town of Ismailia, I met a hijabi sister who literally seemed to glow; a quiet confidence, a serenity, radiated from her face. I was intrigued. In that moment, I didn’t want to judge, to guess. I wanted to understand.
So I said to her: “You are so beautiful. Why do you cover yourself?”
And she replied, “Because I want to be judged for what I say and do, not what I look like.”
That was my ‘A-ha!’ moment.

You see, I had never considered that choosing hijab actually took strength and willpower, particularly in countries where it is not the norm and where powerful messages teach women to use their bodies as currency: the more attractive you are, the more social currency you have. Control and manipulation of one’s image is a way of maximising one’s social power.

I couldn’t fathom someone voluntarily relinquishing that power, as double-edged as it was. I wasn’t even sure that I had the strength to try and get by on the strength of my intellect and hard work alone. And it was then that I began to really question my ideas about myself, about God, the purpose of life – and the hijab as a symbol of strength and faith.

Fast forward six months, I had embraced Islam and the concept of covering – in my own idiosyncratic way, of course. From insisting that my stunning head wraps counted as hijab because ‘That’s how we do hijab in Africa’ to adopting the jilbab and niqab, my hijab journey was characterised by defiance, denial, negotiation, submission – and famous last words.

As my knowledge of Islam increased and my submission to Allah swt became more complete and concrete, my hijab evolved. Alhamdulillah, I have now been wearing the niqab for thirteen years, almost as long as I have been Muslim, but I realise now that my journey is far from over.
The tarbiyah continues.
There is still so much work to do: on my soul, my character, my attitudes, my relationship with Allah swt.
And this is true for all of us, no matter where we find ourselves on the hijab spectrum.

So it is with great pleasure that I welcome you to this, our first ever ‘Hijab issue’.
It seems strange that we at SISTERS have never focused on the topic before – after all, isn’t hijab supposed to be a central pillar of our identity as Muslim women?
Actually, we all know that this is not the case.
We are more than the sum of our overgarments and the challenges we face are often more complex than whether or not the niqab is fard or whether ‘hijab fashion’ is an oxymoron. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t talk about it. After much debate, the editorial team decided that the time had come to focus on the issue of hijab and give it the SISTERS treatment. I hope that you will find our coverage of the highs, lows and laws of hijab an enlightening and inspiring read.
These are real women’s voices, true-life experiences, and original reflections on how we’re living with hijab in the modern day.

May Allah swt accept it from us and you – enjoy!