Hijabis...Unveiled!

As cornily stereotypical as the title of this post sounds, that's exactly what it's about. I went to a segregated Egyptian wedding last night, and thus this post is born.

For those of you who know Arab women, you know that they like to go all out for weddings. By "all out," I mean wearing relatively revealing and fancy/sparkly dresses, coiffured hair, make-up, crippling heels; the whole shebang. And I completely get it - most of these women are in hijab every day of their lives, so the opportunity to dress-to-kill is snatched up in a heartbeat.

I'm personally not a big fan of the overwhelming sparkliness & fanciness of Arab weddings, but I will admit that Arab women definitely know how to party it up. I'll leave the rest to your imagination, so I don't expose too many of our secrets.

So I was in this room, and I looked around and realized that there was an astounding amount of beautiful women all around me. I turned to a friend of mine and said "wow, the world is seriously missing out on all this beauty." I first said it in a humourous tone, but that statement really made me think about what it meant to purposely cover one's natural assets.

I've been a hijabi since I was 11 or 12, so I've become very accustomed to not being gawked at for my looks (not that I'm saying I would be gawked at, or that I'm especially good-looking...moving on...) I've become used to the idea that I'm the proverbial wall-flower in the realm of all-things-beauty. Whether I like it or not, I'm on the sidelines of fashion (regardless of how fashionable I might be - which I'm not at all).

What I'm trying to say is that it dawned on me just how much hijabi women give up of this material world for Islam. Sometimes we forget how much we give up just because we're so used to the idea of being covered. We give up being at the centre of attention, we're relegated to the "religiously observant" category of people who are sometimes silently scoffed at. I don't think we're generally considered beautiful.

But regardless of how good it might feel to be physically appealing, I'm so happy that I'm able to remove myself from that. It's really priceless how I can get ready in literally 5 minutes in the morning and still look put-together, even if I'm having a bad hair day. It's good to not have to worry about make-up running and smudging. It's good to not be concerned that my feet will kill after a day in heels. In short - it's good.

Of course there are definitely more fashion-forward hijabis out there who need to match their hijab pins with their shoes and purses and cell phone cases. But even those super stylish hijabis give up so much to be closer to Allah.

And this point is paramount when you see how physically beautiful these women are, but still willing to cover their beauty for God. Only then do you realize how much inner beauty they have, too.

Dying

Near the end of June, Neda was shot in the chest and died on the street. I watched the video of her death on youtube shortly after it was posted. I couldn't write about it til now because every time I thought about it, I felt nauseous and didn't have any of the right words. I still don't have the right words to express how the suddenness of her death affected me. Watch the video at your own risk.

For days afterwards I couldn't think about anything except dying. I kept picturing myself being hit by a car or being attacked and having my soul taken back from me in the middle of the street - with an audience, with very little dignity. Just suddenly, without warning, while I'm on my way home from work, or crossing the street to buy coffee. It could all be over in a matter of seconds. I would be only a sad memory to the people I love.

And I'm not ready. I know that no one will ever claim to be ready for death. But when I say I'm not ready, it's not because I'm too young, or because I haven't achieved the things I've aspired to. No, I'm too ashamed to die.

If I die now, in the middle of writing this post, I will be surprised if the angel of death wraps my soul in a sweet smelling cloth or calls me by beautiful names while we ascend towards the heavens. I will be surprised if my grave is made to be expansive, or I feel free from the shackles of this world.

If I die now, I have nothing to show Allah for my life. And I can't stand the thought that every pain I've felt in this world will not be relieved when my time runs out. I can't stand the thought that my sins may not be forgiven because of my insincerity and arrogance. How terrible does one have to be that Allah, the Most Merciful, the All-Forgiving, won't forgive his or her sins?

I'm not scared of death. Rather, I'm afraid that I won't get to see His face, that I won't get to breathe in the air of Jannah, that I won't be able to drink from Al-Kauthar so I'll never be thirsty again.

Our Lord, honour us in life and death, accept our silent repentances, ease our judgment and admit us into Your greatest honour of all - jannah.

Every Day

I'm scared.

Sometimes I wonder if he's very unhappy.

People hate me

A hysterical woman came to where I work, and she was desperate for help. Everyone was busy except for me, so I came out to help her. She took one look at me and said "I don't want HER."

A woman in dire need of assistance, and her racism prevented her from accepting help from me. I'm more sad for her than I am offended by her.

Similarly, a couple of days ago I was grocery shopping with my sister and an old woman grumbled past us. Right when I saw her face, I turned to my sister and said "it looks like she wants to yell some obscenities at us." And, Lo and behold, she growled at us saying "you should've stayed where you came from!" and then she hurried away.

The reason I was upset this time was because she offended my intelligence by not coming up with a more unique slur. If you're going to be crass enough to shout racist things at someone, at least be creative.

I've observed people's behaviour and I have concluded that roughly 18% of people hate me.

I found a tiny piece of paper in an obscure pocket in my wallet just now that says: "Royal Message: oh you found me! LOL! You must have been bored & therefore...found me. LMAO. ROFL" (December 23, 2007). Courtesy of my little sister, no doubt.

I guess this can only mean one thing. I need a new wallet.

The Arab World's Tribute to Michael Jackson

The Definition of Irony

I was with my friend last week and I decided to change her cellphone voicemail to my voice saying this:

"Hello?....hello?....HELLO?...WHO IS THIS?.........haha just kidding leave a message." Beep.

And I was laughing & rubbing my hands with evil glee because people kept falling for it and having conversations with the recorded message.

And then I called her today...and I fell for it.

Excuse me while I go hang my head in shame.

The Stink

Stink: (noun) a strong offensive smell; stench.

This stink I refer to is...the smell of unwashed skin, month-old sweaty clothing, never-brushed teeth, and occasional urine. Then add smoking/alcohol into the mix and you've got an explosively offending stench.

As a product of my field, I must help smelly people quite often. Now, I work in a low-income neighbourhood and I understand that poverty plays an important role in the physical state of a person. I am not a monster. But if I'm trying to help someone, and I can't come within a 50 metre radius because he or she smells so bad, then there is something wrong.

Seriously, there is only a certain amount of stink I can ingest into my lungs before I go into a stink-coma. I say "ingest" because the stink is so heavy and concentrated that I feel like it's actually settling in and eating away at my lungs.

If you have a home, you have access to a shower and can thus bathe yourself (homeless people I can excuse from this). You can buy a toothbrush & toothpaste at Dollarama. You can wash your clothes at a laundromat for a dollar. Or if that's too expensive for you, at least soak them in water and hang them out the window to dry - ANYTHING. I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but if any stinky people are reading this, PLEASE spare my weak nostrils from more assault.

My nose is so fatigued. In addition to this, I get extremely paranoid as I'm leaving work that I've somehow contracted the smell. I have to inconspicuously sniff my hijab and shirt as I walk out to make sure I'm not emanating the same smell.

Possible solutions that I have brainstormed:

1. Wear this shirt and hope my clients notice.

2. Wear a surgical mask and tell people it's because I'm afraid of swine flu.

3. Clothespin to pinch my nose.

4. Cover my face with my hijab and pretend it's because I'm very modest.

5. Quit my job. And field.

6. Just withstand it until it burns a hole in my lungs and/or stomach and consequently die.

Hmm.

When you Believe

Beautiful song.