Veiled Intentions:
Don't Judge a Muslim Girl by Her Covering
by Maysan Haydar

I have a confession to make.

I’ve been covering my hair, as is prescribed for Muslim women, since I was twelve years old. And while there are many good reasons for doing so, I wasn’t motivated by a desire to be different, to honor tradition or to make a political statement.

I wanted the board game Girl Talk.

When girls from our small, Midwestern Muslim community donned their first hijab (headscarf), their families rewarded them with parties and monetary gifts. At twelve, I wasn’t nearly as physically developed as a Muslim girl is supposed to be when she starts covering, but I desperately wanted Girl Talk. I knew that if I announced my intention to begin veiling in the board game aisle at Kmart, I could ask for anything and receive it.

Now that I’m twenty-five and have worn a veil for more than half my life, I can admit to this shallow beginning, which is so far from my reason for veiling today. As an adult, I embrace the veil’s modesty, which allows me to be seen as a whole person instead of a twenty-piece chicken dinner. In spite of the seeming contradictions of my life--I’m married to a white man who was raised Catholic, I love heavy metal, I consider myself a feminist, and I sport a few well-disguised piercings--I follow my religion’s standard of modesty and appearance. It’s only now, after comparing my turbulent teen experiences with those of other women, that I can fully appreciate how much of a saving grace this small piece of cloth was..

Maysan Haydar is a social worker in New York City. Like everyone else in Manhattan, she’s originally from the Midwest—specifically, Flint, Michigan. She doesn’t enjoy sailing, biking and long walks on the beach. She does like heavy metal and books on immigration and refugee policy. She has written and edited for the Nation, HUES, Spin, CMJ and Venus.