If the one thing most central to your identity is constantly under attack, what are you supposed to do?
Afrina*, an undergraduate, posed this question to me several days ago, and I still have no answer.
Growing up with a dueling Arab and American cultural identity, she, like many Muslim youth, has embraced her religious heritage as her primary one. In fact, she displays it openly. According to the Center for Muslim Life, Afrina is one of approximately 10 undergraduate women who wear the hijab, or headscarf—a salient symbol of Islam.
The hijab, which translates to “curtain” or “cover” in Arabic, is a sign of modesty for Muslim women. In the West, however, the veil has conjured up images of subjugation, oppression and restriction. For Afrina and Nusaibah Kofar-Naisa, also a hijabi, the veil is simply a choice regarding how they practice their religion.
“It distinguishes me as a Muslim and it is an honor,” said Afrina. “It reminds me that, even if I wanted to, I can’t hide my identity.”
With the honor comes great responsibility, however, as hijabis often feel that they must be ambassadors of Islam. When Afrina first came to Duke, she chose her words and actions with the utmost care in order to avoid misrepresenting her entire religion. However, that didn’t stop the glances or the stares—or, outside of the Duke walls, the hurtful incidences.
In her hometown, Afrina has been flashed the cross by a stranger and been called a terrorist by a passerby. Nusaibah has also dealt with more than looks of curiosity at the airport. When hijabis are in a more welcoming community like Duke, they still feel the need to overcome others’ misconceptions of them as conservative, oppressed women.
Afrina said that when she first started wearing the hijab, she openly started dialogues about the veil and what it meant to her. To her disappointment, she realized that misconceived questions still kept coming up in conversations.
“One of the most fatiguing things on the face of the planet is trying to explain who you are,” Afrina told me. “If the one thing you can identify with is constantly under attack, what are you supposed to do?”
I was stumped then, as I still am. A simple piece of cloth that is an inheritance of piousness and tradition has become a misunderstood symbol for an entire religion. For some Muslims, worshiping traditionally carries the additional societal responsibility of showing that Islam is not misogynistic, oppressive or extremist.
Duke’s accepting environment is a blessing for Muslims, Duke Muslim Chaplain Abdullah Antepli, told me. Regardless, I know I carried misconceptions of hijabis when I first came to Duke. I am ashamed to confess that these misconceptions didn’t leave until several women explained their identity to me in relation to the hijab.
So, like Afrina, I can’t say what one is supposed to do about an identity constantly under scrutiny. As she said, it will take much longer than a decade to change the understanding of Islam since 9/11. But somehow, correcting misconceptions doesn’t seem enough to remedy the “otherization” of an entire community.
At a diverse community like Duke, it seems that such racialization doesn’t occur. However, just as we are accepting of differences, we are also presumptuous about how these dissimilarities prevent us from making connections with others. Perhaps, then, by missing out on the bonds we can create despite our differences, we are also missing out on understanding both our identity and that of others.
Afrina’s question still lingers, though. I don’t know when the Muslim identity will be put away from the spotlight, but I do know that our conversation made me aware of my prejudices. So, here’s the naïve optimist in me hoping that in decades or even centuries from now, the bonds multiculturalism allows will create a communal shift towards the acceptance of any identity.
*Denotes the individual’s name has been changed to protect her privacy.
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