When I officially donned the hijab on 10th January 2006, at an over the prime age of 34, it brought queries to some unsuspecting Muslim friends and they had to ask, “What makes you?”
And I usually gave a tongue-in-cheek reply of “I dah bertaubat.” (I’ve repented).
Some would dig further, and my next answer will be, “I guess it’s time.”
What else should I say? By right, all Muslimah should be hijab-ed, isn’t it? It’s just that I am not doing what Muslimah should be doing, and I guess the curiosity from friends is “what is the turning point to this tudung wearing?”
Non-Muslim friends will not ask directly, but they were curious. In fact, one expressed surprise and thought that I would be more westernized since living in the US. However, another friend interjected that it may just be the opposite for some, as they may discover their religion more when they are overseas. She’s partly right, and they have came to the answer themselves without even me saying anything. They had their own discourse about the new hijab-ed me.
As a Muslim lady, I know it is my duty to be modest, and to “veil my bosom and lower my gaze,” as described in the Al-Quran, loosely translated from An-nisa’s verses. But living in cosmopolitan Singapore, I don’t see the need to, since I have such an active and adventurous lifestyle. It’s not controversial for a Muslim lady not to be wearing the tudung in Singapore, and much less so if you are in the US.
I have never asked or discussed with anyone about wearing even though the thought and the niat to wear the tudung has crept into my mind at a few times in my life though I can’t exactly recall when. I have occasionally tried out tudungs in front of the mirrors. And even at very fewer times, wear the tudung in the house. I kept telling myself, if I decide to wear, it will be for good. And it is not something for me to call it off and give it up later. I want to be a tudung-wearer not tudung-weary. But I was fearful of being hejab. One of the major reasons is, I’m ashamed of myself. Though I am not deviant, and I would think that I am morally a good person, I am not a good Muslim. I am a lazy and ignorant one. I neglected my prayers. I didn’t complete my Quran. I’m too lazy and too involved in worldly affairs to further my knowledge in Islam. If I wear the tudung, and I am still lazy and ignorant, what’s the point? I can’t be Muslim on the outside, but be so unknowledgeable and less practicing on the inside. This stopped me from covering up.
It was during one of my online chats with a friend, R that I summoned the courage to ask the same questions that a Muslimah shouldn’t for the answers are just obvious. What makes you? And what is the turning point for you? But isn’t it too sudden? R quoted in her blog, she hejabed a day after her husband’s marriage proposal eventhough the day before she was wearing an ill-fitting jeans and a see-through blouse. Whatever she told me at that time made much sense to me. “I can’t wait to be a better Muslim to be hejab-ed. Perhaps being hejab will make me a better Muslim.” Even then these words of wisdom haven’t moved me.
At that point in time, I was also adamant in teaching my son good Islamic values especially living in a foreign western land, and with little contact of Islam and good Muslims, I felt that it was even more dire on me to teach him Islam. However, I can’t be teaching my son good Islamic values without practicing them properly.
In later chats and emails, R asked, “what if your son goes to madrasah and finds the ustazah covered up, learned from the Quran about Muslim women being hejab, only to return home to find his mummy, not hejab? Wouldn’t he be confused? What do you say to him then?”
That hit me. I want my son to learn good Islamic values but I am not practising it. What do I say if my son really asked me, “Mummy, why aren’t you wearing the hejab like the Quran says?” Being a good role model, is what parenting is all about isn't it?
For the sake of Allah, and for the sake of producing a good Muslim lineage, I have embraced the hejab but my journey is only the beginning. I am still no less lazy and no less ignorant. But I am trying my very best, and I know my very best is still not good enough, to Him and to me. I have no one else to blame except myself.
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