It's late in the afternoon at Simon Fraser University and I've been cooped up in the library for hours, trying to compose a thesis for my American Literature term paper. Deciding that a break would help clear up my thoughts, I leave the confines of the library to sit outside, only to hear an angry female voice come up from behind me to ask: "Just how is it that you can live with yourself from day to day, wearing that thing on you head and letting them control your life?"

Granted, it is an original line, a creative way to spark up a conversation-yet why the code words? Only because, as a Muslim woman, I've encountered individuals who have felt threatened by my religious dress code, do I know what this angry interrogation means.

Code word number one: head thing, a 30 inch by 30 inch yellow and maroon flower-patterned polyester blend, a piece of cloth I happen to be wearing to cover my head and neck. Code word number two: them, all Muslim men who, sinister-like with their Jafaar-looking dark beards, heavy accents, and hidden Uzi's, get a real kick out of enslaving their four wives and eleven children. Having deciphered all this quickly, I turn to face the stranger-a cross-looking thing-smile politely, and signal to the empty chair beside me: "Would you like to have a seat?"

Hijab, the head-to-ankle covering that leaves only the face, hands, and feet visible in public, has made me a very patient Muslim woman. The brave individuals who have mustered the courage to verbally express their opinions about my scarf haven't been the most trying. There are many who can't formulate words coherent enough to communicate their disapproval, and so, rely on simple gestures and sign language. Walking through downtown Vancouver I've been fingered, spat on, scowled and cursed at. Stepping into an elevator, I once traumatized a man who could do nothing but shuffle into the corner of the empty lift and mutter "What the f-? WHAT THE F-!!!" I have learned to take the agitation, the horror, even the hatred in stride. But never will I be silent about it.

I can ignore the flagrant distortions no more than I can deny the fact that I am a Muslim living in Canada. Who I am and what popular culture think I am, has become a tug-of-war-a competition of who can explain the status of the Muslim hijab-wearer convincingly. The media tells the public that I'm a weak freak of nature who has been forced to subject herself to the tyranny of Muslim fundamentalists.

Catherine Meckes, a Globe and Mail correspondent (Wearing a Uniform of Oppression, Facts and Arguments, July 5, 1993) assesses that wearing hijab takes "some pretty twisted logic" because it entraps women like animals in a cage. The Muslim dress code, she argues, is a form of hiding from society so that I don't have to deal with the realities of my "natural habitat".

Ms. Meckes seems to be familiar enough with Western culture to know that women are constantly objectified, used as commodities, tools to sell beer and boost sales for the next football season. Sadly though, she views women who wish to distance themselves from this commercial degradation with fear. She finds women who cover "disturbing" and wishes that she didn't have to confront them on her "home turf".

Pardon my feeble-mindedness, I've pinned my scarf too high and squeezed reason out my brain, just who is running away from the truth?

I have chosen to set myself apart from millions of Canadians, placed myself in the way of ridicule by a society that demands women to conform to certain ideals, I have refused to hide in the crowded university hallways and malls by looking the way Cindy, Cosmo, or Calvin Klein think I should, all because I'm a spineless caged rodent?! I have rejected the hip-hugging jeans, the boob-enhancing halter tops, the poofy hair and personality rather than my figure or fashion sense.

When I face a classmate or a colleague I can be confident that my body is not being scrutinized. I have repudiated the perverted values of our society by choosing to assert myself through my mind. I understand my "natural habitat" very well, thank you. I fully comprehend the distorted image of the "ideal woman", by the difference between me and the Catherine Meckes' of the world is that I am not afraid to defy those standards. Islam liberates me from that prison.

Perhaps hijab is so misunderstood because it is prescribed by a religion that makes a bold, shocking statement: women are precious creatures who have the right to be valued for who they are, and not what they can jiggle. When I decided to start wearing hijab (a choice only a woman can make for herself), my mother pulled me aside and posed this question: "If you found a diamond that was exquisite in every way-precious beyond reason-would you show that jewel to all your friends, let them gawk at its dazzle, caress it, or would you safeguard that stone and protect it by preserving its natural splendour?" Once you bare something for all to see, the second you display something for its beauty, you objectify it and diminish its value. Because its worth is built on its ability to attract, when it no longer elicits awe from onlookers it becomes worthless. Is it a wonder that neck-lines keep lunging every year, more cleavage means women won't bore oglers, the commercial industry, and the rest of society for a while. But when will those skirts quit shortening? For how long will women remain sex objects?

Islam tells us that every woman is a jewel and when she respects herself enough to preserve her beauty for herself and her loved ones, she rejects being objectified by a society which does not value her. Only the dearest people in my life know me without hijab because they love me enough to value all of me. John and Jane Doe don't love me or care for me, so why must I meet their notions of an "ideal woman" if they are meaningless to me? It is the desire to please popular culture that makes 15 year old girls want to fit Kate Moss' jeans by sticking their fingers down their throats and retching three times a day. It is the unattainable "perfect body" society has conjured that make "fat", "ugly" girls splatter themselves on sidewalks because they're just "not thin or pretty enough". And they tell me Islam oppresses women?!

I am thankful that I am not suicidal or psychologically unbalanced because I can't meet the demands of my culture. I am fortunate that my concerns and goals for life lie on a higher plane than the dictates of a petty fashion industry. I am quite content with my religion, for it values my power to achieve great things through my mind, not my body. Whether I am physically beautiful or not, you have no clue. Perhaps this fact is disturbing for Catherine Meckes and the library stranger because they're not ready to meet a women who can get by without her looks. Then again, perhaps it is because they are just ignorant of the facts. Either way, I don't need anyone's sympathy, I am not really that scary, and your anger does me no harm I am not depressed, enslaved or exploited, I am not a captive of a barbarous Arab from the Sahara desert. Islam has liberated me.

The island of Islam

Crossing the Convocation Mall to head for a class, I was recently approached by one of the largest religious clubs on campus. They asked me politely if I wanted to join their club. I declined, replying that my spiritual devotion firmly lay in another faith. Concerned that my answer would dim the bright smiles they projected, I inquired what it is the club did. "Well," said one of the pleasant members, "we get together, discuss religion, and read from our Holy Book." She caught my curiosity: "Do you discuss other faiths?"

"Oh Yes!" She declared.

Hmmm.....Being a Muslim I asked, "Do you discuss Islam?"

She immediately looked confused, cocked her head to one side and replied, "Islam, the country?"

Religious ignorance is not surprising in an era where worship of God-any God other than the one stored in banks-is wholly unpopular. What baffles the mind is that despite the constant media projections of Islamic "fundamentalists", those dark, bearded nasty men with kufiaís sloppily wrapped around their heads, despite what we all see of Muslims on the 11 o'clock news, this young woman had no clue what Islam was.

When it comes to understanding the fastest growing religion in the world (comprising more than one-fifth of its population), there are those who recognize Muslims as the barbaric fanatics media coverage portrays them as, and there are those who know nothing about the faith. Both, ignorance and misperception leaves one to choose between two evils: to curb this growing tendency, to either disregard Muslims altogether, or to associate them incorrectly with terrorism.

A gross discrepancy exists between the doctrines of the Qur'an, and the actions of impoverished peoples exercising violence under the influence of political distress. There is a continuous tendency to label all Muslims as terrorists or extremists based on the actions of men with political agendas independent from religion. Islam, an arabic word, which is rich in meaning, lies in complete opposition to this political agenda. The most important dimension to the faith is the commitment to submit and surrender to God so that one can live in peace; peace (salam) is achieved through active obedience to the revealed commandments of God, for God is the source of all peace.

Commitment to Islam does not require strapping explosives to oneself in a tourist location or hijacking a bus, but entails striving for peace through a struggle for justice, equality of opportunity, mutual caring and consideration for the rights of others, and continuous research and acquisition of knowledge for the better protection and utilization of the resources of Creation. Islam teaches that the objective of the commandments of God is that peace should be established in the human societies of this world.

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