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The Islamic Bulletin
Issue 18
MY BODY IS MY BUSINESS
By Naheed Mustafa
As a Canadian-born Muslim woman I have taken to wearing the
traditional hijab scarf. It tends to make people see me as either
a terrorist or a symbol of oppressed womanhood, but I find the
experience LIBERATING.
I OFTEN wonder whether people see me as a radical, fundamen-
talist Muslim terrorist packing an AK-47 assault rifle inside my jean
jacket. Or maybe they see me as the poster girl for oppressed
womanhood everywhere. I’m not sure which it is.
I get the whole gamut of strange looks, stares, and covert glances.
You see, I wear the hijab, a scarf that covers my head, neck, and
throat. I do this because I am a Muslim woman who believes her
body is her own private concern.
Young Muslim women are reclaiming the hijab, reinterpreting it in
light of its original purpose to give back to women ultimate control
of their own bodies.
The Qur’an teaches us that men and women are equal, that indi-
viduals should not be judged according to gender, beauty, wealth,
or privilege. The only thing that makes one person better than
another is her or his character.
So many of us are so ashamed of our religion that we change our-
selves, to blend in. We all know a Samer who has become Sam
or a Mohammad who calls himself Mo. We all know the woman
who wears a Western Hijab: jeans, a long shirt, and the obligatory
headpiece. How many times do Muslim women take off the hijab
because of the pressures of society? How many times have you
heard: “I can’t get a job; I can’t handle the stares.”
Nonetheless, people have a difficult time relating to me. After all,
I’m young, Canadian born and raised, university educated. Why
would I do this to myself, they ask.
Strangers speak to me in loud, slow English and often appear to be
playing charades. They politely inquire how I like living in Canada
and whether or not the cold bothers me. If I’m in the right mood,
it can be very amusing.
But, why would I, a woman with all the advantages of a North
American upbringing, suddenly, at 21, want to cover myself so
that with the hijab and the other clothes I choose to wear; only
my face and hands show?
Because it gives me freedom.
WOMEN are taught from early childhood that their worth is propor-
tional to their attractiveness. We feel compelled to pursue abstract
notions of beauty, half realizing that such a pursuit is futile.
When women reject this form of oppression, they face ridicule and
contempt. Whether it is women who refuse to wear makeup or to
shave their legs, or to expose their bodies, society, both men and
women, have trouble dealing with them.
One day, a covered Muslim sister was on the shuttle at the university
where she was studying. This young American woman boarded the
bus. She was wearing a skirt so short, it left nothing to the imagi-
nation. She sat across from the muhajiba sister. The sister looked
up and noticed that the American woman was staring at her, and
shaking her head. She apparently disapproved of her dress. No
matter. If she had not believed that hers was the superior way, she
might have felt embarrassed or humiliated. But it seemed that she
knew, believed, and accepted that Islam is the right way, because
instead of pulling back, she looked right at the non-Muslim Amer-
ican woman with a look of severe disapproval. She then looked
to the woman’s exposed legs and tisked while shaking her head.
The American woman responded by tugging at the bottomof her skirt,
like she was trying to cover her legs more. The American woman felt
the shame and humiliation of her exposure. This woman recognized
her inferior status and reacted accordingly, because the Muslim
woman did not back down or allow the non-Muslim to make her
feel inferior. This is the way we should all act.
In the Western world, the hijab has come to symbolize either forced
silence or radical, unconscionable militancy. Actually, it’s neither. It
is simply a woman’s assertion that judgment of her physical person
is to play no role whatsoever in social interaction.
Wearing the hijab has given me freedom from constant attention to
my physical self. Because my appearance is not subjected to public
scrutiny, my beauty, or perhaps lack of it, has been removed from
the realm of what can legitimately be discussed.
No one knows whether my hair looks as if I just stepped out of a
salon, whether or not I can pinch an inch, or even if I have unsightly
stretch marks. And because no one knows, no one cares.
Feeling that one has to meet the impossible male standards of
beauty is tiring and often humiliating. I should know, I spent my
entire teenage years trying to do it. It was a borderline bulimic and
spent a lot of money I didn’t have on potions and lotions in hopes
of becoming the next Cindy Crawford.
The definition of beauty is ever-changing; waifish is good, waifish
is bad, athletic is good - sorry, athletic is bad. Narrow hips? Great.
Narrow hips? Too bad.
Women are not going to achieve equality with the right to bear
their breasts in public, as some people would like to have you
believe. That would only make us party to our own objectification.
True equality will be had only when women don’t need to display
themselves to get attention and won’t need to defend their decision
to keep their bodies to themselves.
Naheed Mustafa graduated from the University of Toronto last
year with an honors degree in political and history. She is cur-
rently studying journalism at Ryerson Polytechnic University.
T
una
B
urgers
(Yield 8 servings)
Ingredients:
- 1 7-ounce can tuna
- 1 cup chopped celery
- ½ cup American cheese, cut in pieces
- ¼ cup mayonnaise
- 1 small onion, chopped
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 8 buns
Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Mix tuna, celery, cheese, mayonnaise, onion, salt and pepper.
3. Fill buns with tuna mixture.
4. Wrap in foil.
5. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes.
ENJOY!!