In Search Of My Identity

                                                            By: Sarah Nabil Saad

My life was a mess, and I chose to be oblivious to it.  I ignored the fact that my companions in life were wrong for me.  I gave no attention to the deteriorating relationship with my family.  But most importantly I chose to ignore that I lacked a relationship with Allah. I went on with my life, thinking that this is what I wanted, this is what made me happy. And for 16 years I believed this lie.  The story of my Hijab is something I would like to share with all of you in hope that if somebody out there is going through something similar, it would help them in some way.

I lied, I sneaked, I cheated, and I did so many things that took away my label as a Muslim girl.  Yet from time to time I decided to pray once, or go to a dars …but none of it ever touched my heart.  My family was pious, and they tried to do everything to make me go on the right path, but I was the bad apple…and I insisted on staying that way. Why? I always tried to avoid that question. It might have been because I believed I had too much to lose in trying to be religious, or simply because I was just afraid that if I did try to be good, I would realize how astray I had been my entire life.  The thought of that scared me to death.

I don’t know why it happened on that night, but it did.  It was late September and I was in the middle of huge fight that I didn’t even how these girls, that called themselves my friends, got me into.  I was betrayed, backstabbed and hurt in every single way possible.  And I sat in my room and for the first time I though “How did I even get here? How did I let my life become so messed up? How did I lose sight of my purpose in life?”

With a pang of pain, I realized that I had no idea where I was going in life.  For the first time I let myself see the truth that I had been trying so hard to bury.  The way I was living my life, the way I was treating my family, would get me nowhere in life…but more importantly it would get me nowhere in the afterlife. My actions, my words and my thoughts were against so many things Allah had ordered me to do. I shouted at myself “When will you get yourself together and start living this life the way you are supposed to, in the way that Allah has ordered you to???!!!”

And there it came, that rush of adrenaline that turned my life around.  I got up, did wodoo’ (ablution) and truly prayed for the first time in 16 years.  The tears flowed uncontrollably and on that night I was reborn.  I listened to over five tapes of Amr Khaled that had been in my room for so long, untouched, that they were covered in layers of dust.  They were about the many aspects of Islam and life that I had forgotten about.  I cried through the night, with every word I listened to more tears would flow.  They were tears of happiness for finally seeing the right path, but tears of sadness to how long it had taken me to see it.  And through that year, every aspect of my life had changed.  I prayed, with my mind and soul feeling the connection with Allah.  I became good to my family, which I realized came naturally with the effort of trying to be good with Allah. I even started dressing very decently with long sleeves and loose wear.  But on that checklist that I was moving through so well elhamdliallah was one challenge that seemed impossible to do: wearing Hijab.  I just couldn’t do it in spite of my clothes nearly being that of a girl with Hijab, I just didn’t have the guts to do it.  I kept telling myself that I am taking things step by step…and eventually I would wear it.  But then passed half a year, and then a year…and I had still not gotten to “that step”.  I was afraid.  I was afraid of people’s perception of me…I was afraid of what my friends back in Sweden would think of me…how I could no longer do my hair.  Would people still love me, would my friends accept me? Pathetic questions, eh? But that is the truth. That is what the shaytaan makes you think of, that’s how he impedes you from doing the right thing.  I made du’aa in every sojod, “Allahuma 7abeb kalby lle Hijab we 7abibny le” ("Oh Allah please allow my heart to love the Hijab and allow me to love it"), but it just wasn’t working.  That moment wasn’t coming.

“I can’t do it Mum, I just can’t”

It was the fourth day of the first Ramadan after my rebirth and I was sitting with my mother.  I had asked her to listen to my reasons of why it was so hard for me to take that step and help me.  I wanted her to refute every single excuse. But she didn’t even have to. She said something in the beginning that I will never forget.

“My dear, I see how you have been improving in your deen (faith) by taking things step by step.  It is a good way to make these things last with you.  But don’t you think there should be a time limit for each step? Don’t you think that believing you will wear Hijab “when it feels right” coincides with the cycle of life? If you can guarantee me that you will be on earth tomorrow and still have time to get the” when it feels right” moment then go ahead and wait.  But I believe it’s you that makes the “when it feels right” moment, it doesn’t just happen.”

                 And she was right. I took the decision that day, and when I did, it felt like the perfect moment, not just the right moment. I realized that it wasn’t about waiting for it to happen for you or waiting for “el wa7y yegelek” (“That right moment”), it was about doing it and knowing that when you do, Allah would make you feel it.  Once I took the decision I couldn’t even remember all the lame excuses I had, and all I kept thinking was “what on earth was stopping me from finding my true identity.” That’s what my Hijab became for me, my identity.  It is who I am, what I do.  I had never felt freer. My Hijab will always be my way of life.