Op-ed: Muslim FAQ

By Ayan Ajeen, Sophomore Journalism and Public Policy major

Sometimes I go the entire day, entire week, or maybe even the whole month without having to talk about it. Well, I guess the silent timeframes only began when I found them, the ones that are like me. They’re like me in the sense that there’s no need to talk about it.

We all understand because we’ve all been through it or we’ve all had to learn about it. When you possess this identity, you kind of have to know. I mean you have to know to be prepared for the times when you have to discuss it.

When I’m with the other Muslims we don’t have to discuss the basic things. We all had those conversations when we were younger. When the questions first started and we had to start explaining. When we had to start talking about it. When we had to start representing billions of people with our small, unprepared yet heavy responses.

“Why do you wear that?”

“Can you take it off at home?”

“Do they make you wear that where you’re from?”

“Where are you from?”

“When did you come here?”

“It’s too dangerous to go there!”

“Your English is very good!”

It is called a Hijab. I wear it because it’s a representation of my modesty. It’s my personal decision to represent my modesty in this way, and there are many other ways to be modest which can be seen by looking at other women that choose to wear or not wear the hijab. 

They don’t make me wear this where I’m from.

And no, it’s not dangerous where I’m from. I mean, there’s not too many mass shootings at churches or schools last time I checked. But then again, I’ve been here my entire life, so what would I know about the level of safety in that foreign place? 

My English is good? Oh, thank you! I really would have hoped that I’ve properly learned how to emulate perfect English having lived here my entire life.

This is common; it really is. The questions, the constant answers. And it’s fine. Really! I’d prefer questions to the confused stares and often glares that I’m usually blessed with. Today, however, I’ve had to discuss it more than usual.

It started with the bus driver.

“Where are you from?”

“Originally?”

“Yeah, originally.” He said in an almost obvious, "Why are you even asking" sort of way.

I answered, and the questions continued.

“Do they make you wear that there?”

That, you mean this thing on my head? The hijab.

“No, they don’t make you wear this anywhere in the middle east except for Saudi Arabia,” I said in hopes of convincing him that we’re not a coercive people.

“Actually,” I continued, “Lebanon is half Muslims and half Christians, so most people there don’t wear it.” I added this in hopes of convincing him that we’re not homogenous, close-minded people.

The conversation continued with many more questions and defensive answers.

“I can’t go there, I look too American.”

Do you mean you look too white? Is that what American means now?

“No actually they would be nicer to you if they knew you were American! They’re really nice to their guests!”

Well that hasn’t happened in awhile, I thought as I walked off the bus. I mean, what could I expect. I had been hanging out with only Muslims for so long, there was no need to explain this stuff to anyone. It probably won’t happen again for a while. Right?

Wrong!

Today’s a great day to get a haircut. Oh yeah, if you didn’t know, there’s hair under it.

“So it’s men that can’t see it, right?”

“Yup.”

“Why do you have to wear it?”

Whoa, have to?

“No it’s not that we have to… well I mean… we do have to but…”

Come on, think! How can I explain this without making us sound too forceful?

“So technically it’s a rule. The religion says we’re supposed to wear it. But just like any rule, some people choose to follow it, some don’t. Some people choose to follow it to varying degrees and at different times in their lives. I have friends that don’t wear it and may never choose to wear it.”

There, that was perfect!

“Oh, I see! They’re standing up against it.”

Wait, what! What did I say wrong? How is that what you understood from what I just explained? OK, let’s try this again.

“No, they’re not standing up against anything because there's nothing to stand up against. They’re not oppressed to have to stand up against something. They just have another way of representing their modesty, and it doesn’t happen to involve the hijab.”
“Yeah, I’m from New York. We have a lot of you guys.”

OK. Two of these conversations in one day. It’s been somewhat exhausting.

But, before I go home, let me grab some candy from Family Dollar.

“Habla Español?”

“What?”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“No. Do I look like I would?”

“Yes, you look kind of Spanish.”

“I haven’t gotten that in a long time. Since I started wearing this people have started assuming that I’m…”

“You’re Muslim.” she interjected.

“Yeah, I mean that’s why I wear this but that’s not where I’m from. I’m Arab.”

“You’re from Arab?”

What? No! Wait, where is this conversation even going?

“No, Muslim is a follower of a religion. I’m from the Middle East. I’m Arab. Does that make sense?”

“Sure… so, what do you speak?”

“I speak Arabic.”

“Oh. OK. That will be $8.00.”

I’m exhausted. Time to go straight home before that happens again. Now don’t get me wrong! I love when people ask questions as opposed to their less curious friends that just stare or shout crude comments! And I strongly encourage people to continue to ask!
I don’t mind being exhausted.

Maybe in reading this, some of the basic surface questions can be answered. Maybe we can get into the deeper things. More interesting things. More personalized things so you can understand who I am specifically, not generally. But if you must, if you need more explaining on these general questions, by all means, go ahead. ASK!

Yes, it’s tiring, but I look forward to our discussions.
On the bus.
In the grocery store.
Before a movie.
After class.
At the gym.
I’d rather be exhausted than disappointed.

Disappointed by the ones who let the differences divide us.

An abridged version of this op-ed can be found in the Jan. 23 print edition of The Daily Tar Heel.