Me and My Hijab - Reflections on the Veil

"Don't you get hot?," asks one lady seriously. I tried not to laugh, ignoring the allusion associated with the question. This veil has air conditioning, I replied.

Having a hijab on and having non-Muslim friends makes me feel half-Muslim and half-Christian (or mestiza). In the Maranao lingo, this would mean being partly Muslim and partly Christian (by parentage). It is not the religion that makes me feel like I always have to be in the middle of a religious discourse, instead the feeling arises from the curiosity/half-acceptance I encounter in both Muslim and Christian circles. When I am with Muslims, I have to defend my liberal profession in the media trade. When I am with Christians, I have to explain Islam's practices.

Hijab (veiling) is a personal decision I made when I was 17. No parental guidance, no mullah lecture, no peer pressure. I read through the Quran and saw in it the rationale for the veil. It was not segregationist or purist. It was an acknowledgement that women can work alongside any individual, men or non-Muslims, without the superficialities of the coiffeur. I do not have to be judged based on my physical appearance. Plus, with my hijab, (inert) vigilance is a must, - I always have to be "good" to earn my keep for the afterlife.

Others wear the veil as a matter of culture or convenience. Having visited places in the Philippines such as Sulu, Maguindanao, Cebu and Baguio, I have observed how the veil has its nuances in every community or tribe. Women of the Tausug tribe wear their caps with sequins, Maguindanao in colored nets, Maranao in full triangular cover. Others have only their blackened eyes with cosmetics to match. Western Muslim ladies I have met are more conservative alongside the culture-bound women. No colored veils and no hair can be seen.

As I read through the hijab discourse, I realised how complex the experience was. It was not merely a spiritual experience as I and many Moros in Marawi undergo everyday. In the Middle East, "politics and hijab" exist alongside each other. In fact, veiling or unveiling was part of a "feminist struggle." During Egypt's period of colonisation in 1899, reform laws for women on primary education, polygamy, divorce and the abolition of the wearing of the veil were sought. The choice to wear a hijab was an advocacy alongside the call against segregation of women and men. Hijab is also affirming the Islamic civilisation vis-a-vis the West. "Islamic veiling cross-cuts power relations between Islam and the West, modernity and tradition, secularism and religion, as well as between men and women and women themselves," writes anthropologist, Dr. Mohammad Talib of the Oxford Center for Islamic Studies.

The choice to wear the veil could sometimes spell discrimination or suspicion in a non-Muslim setting - to the extreme, provoking riots such as those that happened in Europe. Remember the case in Germany where a Muslim female refused to remove her veil in school? She, I think, was expelled. That sparked a national debate. The hijab could actually be perceived as a "threat to society." In Zamboanga, Philippines, nursing students were once disallowed from wearing the veil because, according to hospital administrators, it scares away patients. This sparked another public debate.

It is hard to be Muslim in a non-Muslim society. Well, it may be harder for a Muslim woman, who have to undergo the daily travail of stares, questions and suspicion in a majority non-Muslim setting. Sometimes it is not that bad. When you get lost in a crowd and are looking for a friend, she or he can easily find you. You do not need designer jeans or sparkling clothes to get attention-- the veil just draws eyes towards you…. Kidding aside, the veil is more of an emotional experience than anything else. I wear it because it helps me draw strength from within. It is power unmeasured, its influence encompassing.