A woman racing up a mountain in her car with the sun on her face, the wind in her hair… total freedom. Yet I, with my face sheltered by an encompassing black veil and my hair enshrouded by heavy cloth – I do not experience such euphoria. A woman running on the sand, pursuing the waves in her little outfit… total freedom. Yet I, with my body buried within an encompassing Jilbaab [cloak that Muslim women wear] – I do not experience such jubilation.

But I do not envy such women; neither do I envy their liberty. No, instead I think of them of pitiable forms. They, who have never felt the look of complete love and total dedication that your husband infuses into you when he glances into your eyes, knowing that he is the only one who can do so; nor the respect that your parents and elders shower on you for being willing to cover up yourself when the world is asking you to uncover.

Alhumdulillah, I, like many others, am studying at university and have made the conscientious decision to cover myself in resemblance of the wives of the Prophet Muhammad [may the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him] – may Allah accept all our humble efforts.

When I started out with this article, I thought that I would speak about hijab , or something to that effect. But something happened which made me change my mind. Allow me to follow you through my experience…

I was returning home from a trip overseas. Unable to seat my mother, sister and I together, I accepted the seat proffered by the airline diagonally across them [my sister doesn't travel well and I was eager to shirk my ‘big sister' duty]. Being a three-seater aisle seat, I had two neighbours who had already boarded. The gentleman looked to be waiting for his partner and upon seeing me approach, moved towards the other side of the aisle, allowing his female partner to sit next to me. I really appreciated this as it saved me from having to trouble them by asking them to play a game of mid-air musical chairs.

Our flight was without further contact with them; they were a relatively young couple and slept the whole way through, only sneaking glances at me when my pre-ordered halaal food arrived before theirs [the aroma was quite overwhelming]. The few occasions they did speak with each other, I detected an American accent.

By the time we had landed I had exchanged seats with my mum so that I could at least catch a few zzz s – I had lectures to attend the next day and tons of work to catch up with. I had forgotten about my neighbours and frankly, did not expect to see them again.

However, all was not well when we had to present our passports – the lady at the desk refused to take me to a separate room or bathroom to verify that I was who I said I was. She eventually succumbed to allowing me to come behind her desk to reveal my face. When I got there and kneeled down, I found to my disappointment that the passenger standing in the queue behind us was able to overlook. To my surprise, it was the couple from next door. Before I could do or say anything, the gentleman [in a manner resembling a child playing peek-a-boo], placed his hands over his eyes to allow me my privacy.

I was touched to say the very least…
Later that night when all was said and done, I thought back to this incident. I hadn't even been able to thank him personally – just a raising of the hand that he had acknowledged. But the amount of respect that he had shown in those few amounts and in such a trivial action was astounding.

And as I lay in my bed, I thought of all those other times that people – non Muslims – had done something for me out of respect for my dressing. Numerous times have my lecturers allowed me to write a paper in a room all alone with my bag [and notes] seated next to me without even checking up on me – absolute in their trust. Or how, if I told them I had to leave a class early or write a paper early due to a religious obligation, they accepted it without question but were not so trusting with my other classmates. Or, being the only Muslimah in some of my lectures, my classmates [in particular the males] always respected me – in their speech and actions [I can only recall one male non Muslim who tried to hug and greet me – he was quickly put straight by other friends]. I am sometimes completely amazed and rendered speechless by the respect that others [very often the males] in my class award me with – it's unlike any other behaviour of theirs.

So what is it that causes this reaction? Can it be that the very cloth they often perceive to be subjugating actually makes them respect me more? And that by attending university the very basis of their ‘Suppressed Muslim Women' theory is vanquished? I guess I'll never really know what goes on in their minds. But whatever it is, I appreciate it.

Which brings me to my final point: Never underestimate the power of a good [or even bad] action, irrespective of how trivial it may seem. A smile and a few words to a depressed class mate, a few words of humour to a stressed out lecturer – all make that much of a difference in the way that they will not only treat you, but other Muslims too.

May the peace and blessings of Allah be upon you all.