Muslim Girl

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “I think she wants us to stay out of her life,” he said curtly before walking out the door and closing it behind him, leaving Veronica wondering whether he was talking about Inaya or himself.

  “No, it isn’t obvious,” Veronica said defensively as she held the cordless phone to her ear. “I don’t see any reason for her to keep something like this from me. She showed me the nomination letter.”

  “Didn’t you say you’ve never even been to a parent-teacher conference?” Anisa asked. “Don’t you see a pattern?”

  Veronica rolled her eyes. “That she wants me out of her life?”

  Anisa sighed. “Ronnie, have you taken a look at yourself lately? I mean, really?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you don’t exactly fit the image of the ideal mom.”

  “What?” Veronica glared sideways at the phone as if looking at Anisa herself.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m talking about from a teenager’s point of view. Just think about how you felt when your parents picked you up from school in a beat-up car.”

  “But we have a decent car,” Veronica said. “Nothing like my parents drove.”

  “But look at you,” Anisa said. “My husband goes to the school if there are any issues. I don’t want my children judged harshly for how I dress.”

  Veronica creased her forehead as her friend’s words began to make sense. She thought back to how quiet Inaya had been on the day of registration, the only day Veronica had entered the school. And how Inaya had looked mortified when Veronica dropped her off the day Inaya had overslept—and how Inaya had never once asked Veronica to visit the school.

  Subhaan Allah.

  Why hadn’t it occurred to Veronica before?

  As a youth, Veronica had loathed the idea of her mother coming around her friends dressed in clothes that were cheap or out of fashion. How would she have felt if her mother wore a black robe—and a face veil?

  Heart heavy in sadness, Veronica begrudgingly accepted the fact that her daughter was ashamed of her.

  Veronica had known for some time that there was a rift between her and her daughter. But she loved Inaya more than life itself, and she didn’t want to face the possibility that the feeling wasn’t mutual.

  “But I think you should still go to the honor’s program,” Anisa said thoughtfully. “Maybe you can just take off your niqaab while you’re there.”

  “What?” Veronica contorted her face. “I’d never do something like that.”

  “Why not?” Anisa said. “It’s not like wearing the veil is a pillar of Islam.”

  “But Allah commands us to wear it.”

  Anisa was quiet for several seconds. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I don’t know, Ronnie,” Anisa said with a sigh. “But I think it’s a bit extreme to dress like that here.”

  Veronica snorted. “Allah sees us wherever we live. We can’t disobey him to please the people.”

  “I don’t think it’s disobeying Allah, ukhti,” Anisa said. “Even the scholars who say it’s obligatory allow exceptions.”

  “But that’s only for necessity.”

  “And you don’t think it’s necessary to keep a good relationship with your daughter?”

  ***

  Veronica lay awake most of the night thinking about what her friend had said. Truth be told, she had been having doubts herself for the last few years.

  Living in Saudi Arabia had inspired in Veronica spiritual discontentment that she had difficulty admitting or comprehending. So much of what she had been taught was the lifestyle of the pious predecessors and early Muslim scholars was merely one side of a story—with dozens of other perspectives from the very generation and people of knowledge she thought she was following.

  And the issue of hijab was only one of those issues.

  Authentic stories reported early Muslim women wearing a variety of fabrics and colors, not only plain black. Some reports revealed early Muslim women, even some female Companions, not wearing the face veil. And most telling, statements from the Prophet himself—and some of his Companions and early Muslim scholars—supported that covering everything except the face and hands was what was minimally required of Muslim women.

  Veronica had even attended a class by a respected scholar in Saudi Arabia who’d said:

  The one-piece [abaya] that you see here is not a requirement of Islam. It is how Saudi women traditionally dress. As for the face veil, there are two valid opinions. Though I personally believe the face veil is obligatory, I believe it is better for Muslim women in the West to uncover their faces than to subject themselves to harm.

  Veronica tugged at the covers until the comforter rested on her shoulder and brushed her chin. The sound of Sa’ad breathing was low and steady.

  “Don’t be so inflexible,” Sa’ad often said. “Otherwise you’ll push away those who love you most.”

  Chapter 22

  Getting Ready

  Friday evening, the night of the honor’s program, Inaya pulled open the front door to the school, her heart constricted in nervousness. In the backpack that was slung over one shoulder was a folder enclosing her speech and the khimaar and jilbaab she had worn during the car ride with Kayla.

  The noise level rose as Inaya and Kayla entered the hallway, the heavy door closing behind them. Small groups of men and women wearing press badges stood in huddles as if conspiring with each other. Some balanced large video cameras on their shoulders, but none of the cameras appeared to be turned on right then.

  “Wow,” Kayla said as she followed Inaya toward the crowd. “What are all these people doing here?”

  Inaya recognized some members of the administration standing near the press. The administrators were smiling and nodding, obviously proud of whatever tonight would mean for them.

  “I know…” Inaya said, her eyes skimming the crowd nervously.

  Some members of the administration walked away from the press, and Inaya did a double take when she saw the administrators’ pleasant expressions turn to scorn once their backs were to the press.

  “Who’s responsible for this?” one of them blurted as they rounded the corner to another hall. “I want all the press gone from the premises immediately.”

  Because all awardees had been asked to meet outside the Student Affairs Office, Inaya and Kayla walked down the hall in the same direction as the disgruntled administrators.

  “We can’t…” someone spoke in a lower tone. “…invite them every year.”

  “…darn lawsuit, for God’s sake!”

  At the word lawsuit, Inaya and Kayla exchanged wide-eyed glances, and Kayla brought a hand to her mouth.

  “Lyrica Spaulding, that’s who!” someone said, their tone laced in fury.

  Inaya and Kayla looked away from each other. They didn’t want the administration to suspect that they knew anything about what was being discussed.

  “…should’ve heard about this before…”

  “…can deny the charges…”

  “…about Mrs. Ford? She’s invited her entire church here…can’t ask them to leave…”

  The voices became muffled then muted as the administrators entered the auditorium at the end of the corridor and the doors closed behind them.

  Inaya’s heart raced as she walked in silence next to Kayla. Did Lyrica’s family go through with their threat? Was that what all the fuss was about?

  The possibility made Inaya breathe a sigh of relief. It was selfish to hope that Lyrica and her family would be the ones harassed by the media, but Inaya didn’t want unnecessary attention on herself. The less cameras pointed at her, the less chance her mother (or other Muslims) would discover her double life.

  ***

  Veronica stood in front of the full-length mirror affixed to the wall of her room and sighed at her reflection. She wore a navy blue jilbaab that hung from her shoulders to her ankles, and a matching khimaar fr
amed her face. Sa’ad had bought her the outfit the day before after she’d asked him what she should wear to the honor’s program.

  “Be fair to Inaya,” he’d said. “No black, and don’t cover your face.” Veronica had frowned, but she remained silent. Besides, she had already resigned herself to this compromise.

  Veronica groaned at her reflection then glanced over her shoulder at Sa’ad. “I feel naked.”

  “If you ask me,” Sa’ad said with a shrug from where he stood behind his wife, taking in her new look, “you forfeited the right to dress how you want when you decided to go at all.”

  “I want to surprise her,” Veronica said, her cheerful tone thinly masking the anxiety she felt right then.

  “Then surprise her,” Sa’ad said, his voice devoid of emotion. “But don’t scare her.”

  Veronica glared at her husband. “I already said I’m not going to cover my face.”

  “But you’re still holding the niqaab.”

  Veronica frowned as her gaze fell to the cloth she held in one hand. “It’s hard to part with it.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Sa’ad said. “Just don’t bring any veiled friends with you.”

  Veronica was silent momentarily. “Anisa said she’ll stay in the hall…with the rest of our friends.”

  Sa’ad drew in a deep breath and exhaled, and Veronica could feel his disapproval as he looked away from her.

  She gritted her teeth in irritation. Would he ever stop judging her?

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

  “I’m proud of my daughter,” Veronica snapped, her tone more indignant than she intended. “Even if you’re not.”

  Sa’ad’s lips formed a thin line of disapproval momentarily. “You’re proud of yourself,” he said, his voice rising in upset. “If this was about Inaya, you’d stay home like you know she wants you to. But you just can’t resist announcing to world how superior you are.”

  “Amal was the one who arranged tickets for staff at the weekend school,” Veronica said defensively.

  “Why?” Sa’ad regarded Veronica, his eyes challenging. “So you can make this into another case of why American Muslims are better than the rest of us.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh come on, Ronnie.” Sa’ad grunted and shook his head. “All you ever talk about is how hypocritical ‘foreigners’ are.”

  “They are hypocritical,” Veronica said. “They just assume they’re better than us. But they’re the ones running from even looking like Muslims.”

  “And you think inviting them to see Inaya get an award will change their minds?”

  Veronica huffed and walked toward the door. “I don’t think it’ll hurt.”

  “Hurt who?” Sa’ad said, his eyes narrowed. “Inaya, or you?”

  Veronica opened her mouth to speak, but the shrill of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She waved her hand dismissively and walked over to the bed, where her handbag lay. When she saw Anisa’s name on the caller display after she pulled the cell phone out of her bag, she silenced the ringer.

  “I have to go,” Veronica said without looking at her husband. She dropped the phone back into her purse. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  ***

  “This is insane,” Mrs. Ford said, her face twisted in anger as she passed the now large group of students standing outside the Student Affairs Office. When she saw Inaya and Kayla, she did a double take.

  “Come here,” she said pointing toward them, her expression grave.

  Inaya and Kayla exchanged uncertain glances.

  “Both of you.”

  Inaya and Kayla looked away from each other, fear written on their faces as they followed Mrs. Ford inside the office. Inaya winced as Mrs. Ford slammed the door.

  “What’s going on with your friend Lyrica?” Mrs. Ford’s eyes were narrowed into slits, her expression accusing as she folded her arms in front of her chest.

  “Wh…what do you mean?” Kayla stuttered.

  “Is this your idea of a joke?” Mrs. Ford said. “We have more media here than we’ve ever had for any event in school history. And that includes before it became a public school.”

  A lopsided smile formed on Kayla’s face, and Inaya sensed her cousin was getting annoyed with the faculty advisor. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Oh cut the crap for Christ’s sake.” Mrs. Ford rounded the desk and slapped her palms on the flat of the desk as she leaned toward the girls threateningly.

  “We have almost every news station from the metropolitan area circling this school like dogs and asking us about religious discrimination,” she said, her eyes fiery. “And do you know whose name is in the middle of it?”

  Inaya and Kayla remained silent, and Inaya shook her head hesitantly.

  “My name, that’s whose!”

  Mrs. Ford breathed audibly then let her weight fall into her office chair. The chair rolled away from the desk a few feet, and she leaned back.

  “Inaya,” Mrs. Ford said after a thoughtful pause, her voice slightly subdued as she met Inaya’s gaze. “After the ceremony, I’m going to have you talk to the press…”

  Inaya’s eyes widened in protest, but Mrs. Ford was looking beyond Inaya, apparently contemplating her own thoughts.

  “…and you’re going to tell them this is all one big misunderstanding.”

  “But…” Inaya shook her head, unable to find the right words to refuse. She couldn’t risk standing in front of the cameras—on purpose. What if this lawsuit became a high profile, national case? The last thing Inaya needed was to be on the front page of every local newspaper in the city—and in every top news story on TV.

  “And you’ll tell them you’re willing to testify to that in court.” Mrs. Ford’s words were so emphatic they were almost cruel.

  Inaya’s heart raced as she realized what doing this would mean for her reputation as a Muslim, and that of her family. Veronica would be crushed—and so would Inaya herself.

  “But I don’t know if I can…” Inaya said, stammering.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Ford said as she stood suddenly and picked up a stack of papers from her desk. Mrs. Ford didn’t even as much as look at Inaya as she rounded her desk and started for the door.

  “You’ll tell them you worked with me,” Mrs. Ford said, her tone calm. “And that you never noticed anything even slightly religious in our selection process.”

  Inaya and Kayla exchanged furtive glances.

  Mrs. Ford shook her head as if trying to recall something. She looked at Inaya. “And what’s that Arab girl’s name?”

  “Arab girl?” Inaya said, her forehead creased as she met Mrs. Ford’s gaze.

  “The Muslim one who helps with Student Council.”

  “Nasra?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Ford said, snapping her fingers in recognition as she nodded. “We’ll have her talk to the media with you. It’ll look good to have Muslims and Christians together tonight.”

  A grin formed on Mrs. Ford’s face as her hand rested on the door handle. “Then these people can see for themselves who’s really superior.”

  Chapter 23

  The Honor

  Seats in the school’s large auditorium were filled to capacity Friday night. Excitement buzzed in the air, silent but palpable. Some men and women stood behind the back row on the lower level, standing alongside the press who couldn’t find seats in the now-packed front row reserved for media.

  Dozens of the Islamic weekend school teachers, as well as friends of Amal and Veronica, were scattered throughout the auditorium’s two levels. The colorful assortment of hijabs added to the already diverse atmosphere. The entire first row was filled with men and women wearing press badges, and their bulky cameras and equipment cramped the aisles on both sides of the rows of seats.

  The second and third rows were occupied by awardees from grades nine to twelve, but their awards would be only a preamble to the historic awarding of the Distinguished Student Award an
d the Future Hope Scholarship. And Inaya, the recipient of both awards, was sitting separately from the students—backstage—preparing for her keynote speech.

  Veronica sat in the center of one of the middle rows, and she was more relaxed than she imagined she’d be. She had stressed so much over not wearing the face veil that she had folded her favored black niqaab and tucked it into her purse, just to keep it close. But she was surprised by how comfortable she felt without it.

  Though Veronica was conscious of how conspicuous her navy blue jilbaab and head covering made her appear amidst the public school audience, she felt a sense of camaraderie amongst the Muslim women dressed similarly. Anisa sat a row behind Veronica, wearing her favored all-black jilbaab and face veil. When Veronica turned and met her friend’s gaze, she found that Anisa had flipped back the niqaab, a pleasant expression on her face. Anisa gave Veronica a thumbs-up, letting her know that she was happy to be there, and that she was proud of Inaya.

  Veronica shifted in her chair as the program dragged on. She stifled a yawn as she listened to speech after speech. Teachers and administrators droned on about students Veronica didn’t know or care about. Names were called out for various awards and honors, and bored, Veronica glanced at her watch. Over an hour passed, and she fidgeted, anxiously awaiting the announcement she had come for.

  “And tonight I have the honor to introduce you to our keynote speaker,” Mrs. Ford said from the stage podium an hour and a half after the program started.

  At these words, Veronica sat up, unable to keep from grinning. She turned to Anisa, and beaming, Anisa made a gesture of upturned hands, reminding Veronica to pray for Inaya’s success. Anisa mouthed the words, “Make du’aa.”