I chose to wear the hijab and niqab as a teen.
My mum was utterly horrified.
I tried to convince my mum for six months I could put it on. She called me a fanatic and said we’re Indonesians, this isn’t our culture.
One day she relented and I put it on. I actually went to go buy the material and my mum came with me and I found a tailor who designed and made it for me.
The first time I rocked up to my (Islamic school in Perth), people were really shocked at what I was wearing.
I read a lot of Islamic books. I read the history of the Prophet Muhammad and his wives and how they were always covered.
Looking back I think there was a lot of ‘interesting’ literature, which perhaps emphasised different aspects of a particular ideology – some Muslims might call that Wahhabism.
It’s the Wahhabi agenda that’s being pushed out by these particular publishing houses overseas. As a 13-year-old you can’t ascertain that. It’s something you’re finding in the mosque.
Muslims Like Us Source: Muslims Like Us
You pick it up you kind of read it and accept it as gospel. So I absorbed all of that. I felt very inspired. I thought ‘what more could I do?’ I would go to Islamic lectures in the community and every time a woman in a face veil walked through the door I would look at her enviously. For me it represented a beautiful form of modesty and virtue. I really idolised it.
I had a picture of Osama Bin Laden laminated on my pin board. Why did admire Osama Bin Laden so much? It was a sense of he was there for the defenseless and it was about social justice. I also wanted to pursue justice in the world.
Looking back at this teenage girl it was easy to buy into the narrative of the dispossessed, the villains and the heroes.
My Greek Orthodox miner father was living in Kalgoorlie. He asked his neighbour, my Aunty, if she had a sister she could marry. He flew to Indonesia and married my mum and settled in Coober Pedy in the mid-1980s. I was the eldest of four girls. My father passed away when I was four years old. My mum was only 27 years old when he died. She was in the middle of nowhere in outback Australia. She had no family support.
I had foster care parents for a time. I had been to seven public schools and all of my friends were non-Muslim. I didn’t really identify strongly as a Muslim. I identified more strongly as Asian. If I felt any form of discrimination or racism it was based on my Asian-ness. I remember seeing the graffiti ‘Asians out’.
It was this time I started to ask the big questions: Why am I here? What’s my purpose? Is Islam true? Is there a God?
It wasn’t until I started university and went out in the mainstream as a niqabi I experienced abuse on public transport. I couldn’t leave my house. I felt isolated and it was quite a depressing time of my life.
I know now sometimes there are no heroes and villains and the lines are very blurry. Source: Muslims Like Us
I got married at 19. It was a very difficult marriage. It was pretty rough early on into the piece. Those were some of the most difficult years of my life. I was seven months pregnant with my second child when we separated. I was 24 and became a single mum.
I was just tired, run down, an exhausted mum trying to breastfeed my child and get sleep. The last thing I had the energy to do was to deal with blatant abuse. Some of it was really shameless. I was sworn at. There were times people try to tug my scarf from behind me if I was on the train or bus.
I enjoyed being in the feminine and rebuilding my trust for men.
One time I had the girls in the back of my car. We were driving to karate class. The next car started hurling abuse at us and started to run us off the road.
I remember I had another niqabi friend. We’d go to the shop. She was really sassy. I told her there were two guys who had come up to me and said “do you have a bomb under there?”
She said “I would’ve just said: ‘Up your arse’ or ‘It’s in my boobs’.” There were golden moments like that I just miss.
Do I still have picture of Osama Bin laden on my wall? No, because I am not a 15-year-old girl.
I stopped wearing the niqab at 22. I had worn it for eight years. (I still wear the hijab).
I was a very black and white person. Now I live 50 shades of grey. I even enjoy the franchise! Looking back at this teenage girl it was easy to buy into the narrative of the dispossessed, the villains and the heroes.
"Remember that if you have a gift or a talent I believe it is your duty to nurture and share it with the world." Source: Muslims Like Us
A few years later I started Latin dance classes. My Muslim friends said to me, ‘Aisha you need to go check it out, it’s good for your mental health.’ I had struggled with a lot of depression. I was very social and liked to laugh. But you can do that and still have a side of you that eats you up.
The first time I went to dance class I felt really conscious of the fact I am a covered (hijabi) woman.
But I enjoyed being in the feminine and rebuilding my trust for men. That was a big part of my healing process. My old self would have been ‘Haram, Astaghfirallah!’ (God forbid!) at the idea of dancing with men.
I’ll be graduating from law this year. Remember that if you have a gift or a talent I believe it is your duty to nurture and share it with the world. There will be people who will be intimidated by your success. They will not like your growth. But you still need to share your gift regardless. It’s a form of gratitude.
There were times when I couldn’t take one day at a time – I was taking it hour to hour.
Surround yourself with a strong support network. Work on your self-esteem. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Know that you can get through and if there are times you want to give up, that’s ok, but you better get back on that horse again.
As a mature adult and mum and everything I’ve been through in life, I know now sometimes there are no heroes and villains and the lines are very blurry.
