Dancing Buttacupp

I was at home doing my usual business on the weekends; errands, revision, etc. It was in my sister’s room did I notice a book.

This book has been reviewed in the local and international dailies, and featured on websites.

I didn’t really care to read it, but decided to pick it up and read the synopsis. From there, I peeked and read a few chapters.

What caused me not to put the book down was not that it was such a great read. It’s not intellectual. Suitable for young adults. It was humourous, and realistic. It also reminded me of my reasons for donning the hijab, before the Wardina days, or "Wassini" came into the scene.

I remember my chance meeting with an old friend, who returned from the states, wearing the hijab proudly: Sarah Risman. She recounted her story on her "migration" to wear the hijab in the states, her struggles and challenges. The book was practically about Sarah’s journey.

My discussion’s with Sarah only left me in awe, that such an individual would go through such lengths of uncertainty (of public acceptance) and potential backlash, not to make a statement, but to express her right to follow her convictions.

It dawned on me that here I am in Malaysia, an Islamic nation (by general standards), and I see many women wearing the hijab. The only thing is, the general Malaysian women tend to wear it for several reasons:

• After marriage as a request by the husband
• They think they look better with it on
• Everybody in the government sector is wearing it, so should I
• Mom and dad expects me to wear it
• Everyone in school or in my state wear it

That is why it is common to see Muslim Malaysian women wear the hijab with all sorts of outfits, taking it off for ’special’ occasions, and not wearing them at all with guests or neighbors.

I have met women who truly understand their reasons for taking that next step. When they decided to put it on, it is for the right reasons. I admire them for that. Better yet, they look beautiful because they happen to also be fashionistas.

Sarah’s transformation made me inspect myself, my life, and more importantly, my convictions. At the time, I was just about to turn 15, a year after I hit puberty (yes, I blossomed late). I didn’t wear the hijab, though I have always thought about it. It never materialized. I wasn’t particularly religious by normal standards. I mean, some will judge me now and say that I don’t measure up. I’m fine with that. Let’s not even talk about sins. The weighing scale on my left for bad deeds would surely be heavier. Hey, I’m working on it.

Thank God, my parents raised me a certain way, and I cherish that.

Whatever it is, I knew my journey needed to take another step. Wearing the hijab isn’t the final step for me, but just additional, an effort to mould a better me.

Mom never pressured us either. She has always advised us to wear it ONLY because we want to AND for non-superficial reasons.

At the time, nothing should set me back. I’m in Malaysia. Nobody will think of me as being backward (terrorism wasn’t largely used back then, and Sept 11th was 3-4 years away). Sikh men wear turbans. Devout Buddhists can opt to shave their heads. Who cares?

Even so, there was some form of backlash in Malaysia, at least, for me. Growing up in Subang, from exposing hair to covering up…that raises questions. Questions are fine. Some stare, nod disapprovingly, or think I just became ‘uncool’. That is something that everyone faces, and something that we accept as a challenge, and we face it head-on.

Yes, the book brought back memories. Sweet ones.

It is a story of Sarah’s journey, my journey, everyone’s journey.

I haven’t finished it yet. The fact that I haven’t touched my revision book tells (ok, so I study, and break time is ‘reading’ time) me it would be finished…soon.

Have a greeat weekend.

-Asma wan reading away-