"Hey, Zee, wait up!", exclaimed Eloise.
She spotted Zee walking towards the school building, so ran towards her. Realising Zee wasn't slowing down, Eloise stepped in front of her.
"Hey!
Uh, hey, sorry... just wanted to get your attention."
"Why?"
"Um... I heard about what happened to Zaira."
"How do you know Zaira?"
"Oh, uh, one of her friends lives on my street.
I talk to her whenever she visits.
What happened to her is awful.
That area always seemed so... safe."
Zee clenched her fists, the numbness she had been feeling all day suddenly morphing into anger.
"Safe?
Nowhere is safe for Muslims."
Eloise frowned.
"I know", she said, placing a hand on Zee's shoulder.
Zee grabbed her wrist and pushed it away, before taking several steps back.
"Don't touch me!
And don't act like you know what it's like!
You don't know sh*t!
So just... mind your own business, Eloise."
"What's going on?", asked Spencer, approaching the pair.
Zee scoffed.
"Oh great, the cavalry is here!"
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
He didn't have a problem with Zee, and as far as he knew, she didn't have a problem with him.
So why was she lashing out?
"Sorry, I just wanted to see if El was ok. And... I heard about your friend."
"Oh my-why is everyone so involved in things that don't concern them?"
Rowan and Atlas approached the group.
"Hey, Zee", said Atlas.
"We heard about Zaira-"
Zee groaned loudly, and threw her arms in the air.
"Back off, ok?
None of us are friends, ok, I only tolerate you because I have to.
So you can just drop the acts, alright?"
Zee turned to walk away, but stopped when she saw the hurt expression on Atlas' face.
She could've apologised.
But she didn't want to.
She had too much on her mind to care about anyone else right now.
◆◆◆
Zee found herself roaming the streets near her Mosque.
When she was younger, she never noticed people treating her differently.
She was just a care-free kid.
But after her sister joined the army, Zee spent a lot more time in the company of her own thoughts.
She started to pick up on things she hadn't before.
Like how people would look at her funny when she came out of the Mosque.
Or how some of the kids in the canteen would screw their faces up when she ate her rice and curry.
"Zalim?"
Zee looked up to see a tall man dressed in a long white tunic.
He had a white hat on, called a topi, and a bushy black beard.
Despite it being slightly bushy, it was still brushed in a way that kept it neat.
"Imam Rizwan", said Zee, stopping in her tracks.
"Assalaamualaikum Zee.
How are you?
And your parents?"
"Wa'alaikum assalaam.
We're all good alhamdulillah."
"I assume you know about what happened to Zaira."
Zee frowned, and just nodded.
"We are all praying for her."
"I wish I could do more."
"I understand.
We are more than just teachers and students.
We have become a family."
"I just feel... well, not very hopeful at the minute."
Imam Rizwan nodded.
"Have you been reading namaaz?"
Zee felt her face get hot, and she looked down, ashamed.
"N-Not as much as I usually-"
Imam Rizwan chuckled, and gave her a sweet smile.
"I'm not going to berate you.
Reading namaaz has helped me find clarity and peace many times though. In our day to day lives, it's easy for us to forget that our Lord is watching over us, but when we take the time to read namaaz... it is a direct line to Him.
All we feel is His warmth."
Zee smiled.
"To be honest, I always feel kind
of... bad for just praying when I need something.
It's like I'm using Allah.
I don't know, maybe that sounds stupid."
Imam Rizwan shook his head.
"It is not stupid.
I have felt like that too.
But turning to Allah when you need Him... it shows how strong your faith and belief is."
"I didn't think of it like that.
I don't suppose you have any advice for talking to Zaira, do you?
She's mad at me right now."
"Why?"
Zee shook her head.
"It's a long story.
I just wish I could make her feel less pain.
She's dealing with a lot."
Imam Rizwan nodded.
"Well, make sure you talk things out with someone too.
Your parents, perhaps?
And as for Zaira... she is much stronger than she knows."
"How do you know?"
"Well... there is a specific ayat in Surah Baqarah, which translates to
'Allah will not burden a soul beyond that it can bear.' "
◆◆◆
After a long day, Zee sat down on the sofa, next to her Mum.
Sensing something was off, her Mum pulled Zee closer, and she rested her daughter's head on her lap.
She carefully stroked Zee's hair.
"Long day, beti?"
"Mhm."
"Oh, it's a mumbling kind of day?"
"Mmhm."
Feeling her mother's eyes on her, Zee sighed and sat up.
She turned to face her mother, who was already facing her.
"Talk to me, Zalim."
"I don't really know where to start."
"Ok... start with Zaira.
You're worried about her, aren't you?"
Zee nodded.
"So worried.
But she won't even talk to me!"
Zee's mother frowned.
"Why not?"
After a long pause, Zee exhaled sharply. She pressed her thumb against the knuckle of her ring finger on her right hand.
She used to wear her sister's ring on that finger, and would play with it whenever she was nervous.
She lost the ring a long time ago though, and refused to wear another in its place.
"Ammi... do you ever feel ashamed of me for not wearing a hijab?"
Her mother's eyes widened, and she shook her head without hesitation.
"Absolutely not.
Zalim, why would I ever be ashamed of you for that?"
Zee shrugged.
"I don't know... I am."
Her mother's face softened, and she moved closer to Zee.
She placed a hand on Zee's.
"Darling..."
"I-I feel like a bad Muslim.
Zaira prays five times a day, and she wears her hijab.
She reads the Qur'an outside of Mosque too.
She's a real Muslim, and she's had it so hard.
But here I am complaining about all the rac*sts and islam*phobes in Marleyport."
"Zalim, you listen to me, ok?
Wearing a hijab, reading the Qur'an... they are incredibly important parts of being a Muslim.
But not wearing a hijab... it doesn't make you any less of a Muslim.
Being a Muslim isn't state of mind, Zalim.
It comes from the heart."
Zee felt tears forming in her eyes, so she looked down at her hands.
"She was attacked, Ammi.
I've never been attacked for the way that I dress."
"I know, beti, I know..."
"Why did they have to hurt her?", she cried, her tears breaking free and rolling down her face.
"She wasn't doing anything to them!
She was just walking."
Zee's mother gently cupped her daughter's face, using her thumbs to wipe away some of her tears.
"Zalim... when I look at you, I see a beautiful girl.
A girl who looks after me and your Dad, even when she has her own life to live.
A girl who runs to the shop before it closes, just so she can get my favourite fruit.
I see a girl who stays up all night until Fajr namaaz, because she's worried she'll sleep through her alarm.
I see a girl who loves so deeply."
Her mother gently stroked her face, making Zee smile softly.
Zee leaned her head against her mother's hand.
"I know your heart.
Many other people do not.
And right now... Zaira is terrified that people will always see her as a threat, as a target, when that is so far from the truth."
"S-So, h-how do I help her?"
"By showing her that you see her.
By showing her that you know her heart."
◆◆◆
The next day, Zee went to see Zaira.
Her mother was getting food, so she was alone.
GET WELL SOON
balloons were tied to her hospital bed, and gift bags were on the chair next to her.
"Nice balloons", started Zee, unsure of what else to say.
Zaira didn't look as angry as she did before.
In fact, she looked remorseful, not that Zee thought she should be sorry.
Zaira didn't do anything wrong.
"Mrs Khadija brought some cards that the younger kids in one of the other classes made."
"That's nice of them."
Zaira nodded.
Zee stepped closer to her bed, and Zaira shuffled to the side, wincing a little as she moved.
Zee quickly sat down on the edge of the bed, so that Zaira didn't have to move so much.
"I'm so sorry-", they both said in unison.
"Hang on, you're sorry?", questioned Zee.
"Zaira, you've got nothing to be sorry for!"
"I shouldn't of snapped at you.
I'm just... I'm so scared, Zee!"
"Who wouldn't be?
Those islam*phobes need to be locked up."
Zaira fell silent, and Zee furrowed her eyebrows, confused as to why she wasn't agreeing.
"Actually..."
Zee raised her eyebrows.
"Zaira..."
"If I had just put my Qur'an in my bag, or wasn't stupid enough to choose a bright coloured hijab-"
"Nope.
No, I'm sorry.
Absolutely not.
We're not doing that, Zaira."
"But-"
"You did nothing wrong.
You did nothing wrong by holding your Qur'an, and you did nothing wrong by wearing a pink hijab!"
"B-But maybe they just didn't understand-"
"Then they should've asked!", exclaimed Zee, earning some glares from other patients.
Zee muttered an apology, before turning back to Zaira.
Her face softened when she saw the fear on Zaira's face.
"Your hijab is beautiful, Zaira.
I love seeing which scarf style you're going to try out next", said Zee.
"And... I love how much you care about your friends.
How much you care about raising money for charities, and giving back to others.
And you're so funny-"
"Zee..."
Zee reached out and placed a hand over Zaira's.
"You've always been so proud to wear your hijab.
Please... don't let them take that away from you."
Zaira felt her tears threatening to spill, and bit her lip to stop it from trembling.
She placed a hand on her chest and patted gently, in an attempt to soothe herself.
"I'm always going to be seen as a threat, aren't I?"
"But you're not", said Zee.
"And you prove that, every day, to the people who bother to get to know you."
"And the ones that don't?"
"They're not worth your time.
They're not worth your tears."
Zaira gave Zee a small smile.
She gently squeezed Zee's hand.
"I can't promise things will be easier moving forward.
In fact, I can pretty much promise that they won't be.
But I've got your back, and so does everyone at the Mosque."
Zaira smiled again.
"I'm really glad you came back."
"Me too."
A thought suddenly crossed Zee's mind when she saw a familiar nurse.
"Um, before, one of the nurses said that the person who found you heard you whispering something.
They said it didn't sound like English."
"Oh!
Yeah, I... it was a dua my father taught me.
He said to say it whenever you're scared someone will harm you. 'Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi'ta'.
It means,
'O Allah, protect me against them however You wish.' "
_____
Whilst this is a storyline I wanted to cover, I didn't plan on having it come up so early. The reason why I decided to write this now, is because of the recent news about Muslim women in India being told they cannot attend school, because they wear hijab.
The news really shocked me, because Hindu and Sikh communities also have religious headwear, so I thought they'd respect that Muslim women wear hijabs.
A hijab can be classed as something you wear on your head, but also to cover your body. It's essentially modest dressing. The way I use the word hijab is to describe the headscarf I wear on my head.
Now, I want to stress that this isn't all hindus and sikhs, but it seems to be an issue that the Indian government are not handling well at all. The French government's hijab ban is another example of blatant islam*phobia.
As a Muslim who wears a hijab, I can relate to this. No one stopped me from attending school, but a few years ago, there was an online challenge going around where you could gain points for ripping someone's hijab off, for throwing ac*d on a Muslim, and other horrendous things. It left my family and I scared for our lives, in a country that I had always thought to be tolerant of other religions and cultures.
I remember vividly, a time where I was walking home from school. There was a narrow path surrounded by trees, bushes and the main road next to it. I was almost always the only one walking on it, and it was the time of year where it got dark quite early. Anyway, I was walking alone, and a boy on his bike was approaching me. My whole body just got so tense, and I remember clutching my coat in case I had to use it to to shield myself from ac*d. He was looking at me as I got closer, and I was genuinely frightened that he'd hurt me. He slowed down a little, and I'm not sure if he could tell I was scared, but I couldn't even pretend that I wasn't. Luckily, he rode right past, and didn't say or do anything to me.
A huge sense of relief washed over me, but then there was that sinking feeling that's all too familiar now. He was a harmless boy on his bike, but because of stupid, rac*st and islam*phobic people, I thought I'd get seriously hurt that day.
The thing is, those people playing that disgusting points game, probably weren't even rac*st or islam*phobic. Some most definitely were, but others were idiots that jumped on the bandwagon.
People love telling us that we're oppressed for wearing hijabs, and make us feel like we're in the wrong for wearing them. It is a choice. NO ONE has the right to force someone to wear, or not wear something.
The fear of getting islam*phobic abuse hurled at me is one that's never going to go away. It's always going to be something that scares me. But I refuse to take off my hijab to fit some twisted view of how you want a Muslim women to dress.
Translations
Surah: In the Qu'ran, there are different Surahs.
They're essentially different stories/pieces of advice.
Ayat: it's kind of like a sentence within each Surah.
Namaaz: Prayer
Assalaamualaikum: a greeting.
It means 'peace to you.'
Wa'alaikum assalaam: a response to the above.
It means 'and unto you peace.'
Dua: It's like a saying/prayer that we say.
There are many duas for different things, such as the one you read before eating, when you finish eating, when you enter a vehicle etc.
Fajr: one of the five daily prayers.
It's the earliest one, and is read before sunrise.
Imam: religious leader.
He is the one who will lead the prayer at the Mosque.
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