IN DEFENSE OF NON-HIJABI SISTERS
by Samana Siddiqui
It had been ten years since she had set foot in a mosque. Being at university had broadened her mind in many ways, one of them being her reconnecting with Islam.She had begun praying five times a day a month ago, and now felt ready to pray in public, at the university's Juma prayer.
She paused and stood a few feet away from the women's entrance. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the silk scarf out of her purse and tied it carefully on her head. Her ponytail stuck out a bit. She smoothed the creases on her long-sleeved beige shirt and tugged at the bottom of it to make it longer over her pants.The prayer was great. She had never felt this sense of inner peace.
Afterwards, she tried mingling with the sisters, but nobody even looked her way. A few of them even pretended not to hear her greeting. The only sister who did talk to her said in a huff: “You know your prayer is not accepted in those pants and that tiny thing you pass for a Hijab. I suggest you get more Islamic knowledge and dress properly before coming back here.”
The words stung her like a million bumble bees. Too numb to respond or speak, she charged out of the hall. Never again would she associate with these people, she told herself. And never again would she return to Juma.
by Samana Siddiqui
It had been ten years since she had set foot in a mosque. Being at university had broadened her mind in many ways, one of them being her reconnecting with Islam.She had begun praying five times a day a month ago, and now felt ready to pray in public, at the university's Juma prayer.
She paused and stood a few feet away from the women's entrance. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the silk scarf out of her purse and tied it carefully on her head. Her ponytail stuck out a bit. She smoothed the creases on her long-sleeved beige shirt and tugged at the bottom of it to make it longer over her pants.The prayer was great. She had never felt this sense of inner peace.
Afterwards, she tried mingling with the sisters, but nobody even looked her way. A few of them even pretended not to hear her greeting. The only sister who did talk to her said in a huff: “You know your prayer is not accepted in those pants and that tiny thing you pass for a Hijab. I suggest you get more Islamic knowledge and dress properly before coming back here.”
The words stung her like a million bumble bees. Too numb to respond or speak, she charged out of the hall. Never again would she associate with these people, she told herself. And never again would she return to Juma.
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