I started wearing the hijab in third grade, long before I fully understood its meaning. It was simply a norm in my community, and I liked how it felt when I put it on. It gave me a sense of identity, even if I couldn’t articulate that at the time. As I grew older and began to explore my deen (faith) more deeply, I realized the profound connection between my hijab and my relationship with Allah.
From a young age, I’ve always felt a deep connection to my Creator, a sense of oneness like Allah was right there with me—sitting on my shoulder (metaphorically), experiencing life alongside me. Every tear, every laugh, every moment of confusion or joy—I felt Allah was there, holding my hand. The longer I wore my hijab, the closer I felt to Allah. It became my anchor, easing my anxiety and giving me a sense of control over the uncontrollable. When the world felt chaotic, I would remind myself, “At least I have my hijab.” It was my constant, my shield, and my peace.
Growing up wearing the hijab wasn’t always easy. I remember the stares, the feeling of being different, and the weight of knowing that people’s reactions to me were often shaped by my identity. It’s a heavy thing for a child to carry, sensing you aren’t “normal” in the eyes of those around you. I was never pressured to wear the hijab, which meant I also had the freedom to grapple with my feelings about it. At times, I wondered if I should take it off to blend in, but deep down, I knew it was part of who I was. I wasn’t ready to give that up for anyone.
As I matured, those urges to fit in faded. I embraced the fact that I was different, and most importantly, I stopped feeling like I owed anyone an explanation for my choices or my faith. Western media often villainizes Muslim identities, painting people like me as foreign or other. But my hijab gave me resilience. It taught me to care less about these opinions and focus on my own inner peace.
For me, the hijab extends far beyond a physical covering. It’s also a reflection of my character. When Muslims look in the mirror, we say a prayer: “May God beautify my inner character just as He has beautified my outer appearance.” This simple prayer reminds me that my purpose is to cultivate inner beauty, kindness, and humility. My hijab is a daily reminder of that commitment.
I’ve learned to take pride in being a visible representation of my faith and of the billions of Muslims I call my Ummah. Nothing makes me happier than defying expectations, owning my narrative, and having agency over my own body. My hijab allows me to say to the world, “I decide how I present myself, and I am comfortable in my own skin.”
That doesn’t mean the journey is always easy. Hair is beauty, and in a society that prioritizes physical appearance, it can be hard to feel like the odd one out. But the hijab has taught me to find beauty in the deeper things—in resilience, faith, and my connection to Allah. Some days are harder than others, but that’s the nature of a journey.
The hijab set the foundation for my fearlessness and complete trust in Allah. It reminds me that no matter how tough life gets, as long as it’s me and my hijab, I’ll be okay. It’s not just a piece of fabric; it’s a part of me. It’s my strength, my shield, and my pride.
As Muslims, we never say “never” because life will start nevering like never before, but I pray, Inshallah, that I remain steadfast on this path. Each day is an opportunity to strengthen my relationship with my hijab and the values it represents. One day at a time.
