And then she wore the hijab.

I’ve always had a taste for the dramatic, so it felt only fitting to disappear from social media and return as a hijabi, deleting hundreds of videos in the process.

Hijab was not always something on my mind growing up. Despite being the only non-hijabi in my family, I felt resistant to the idea. Constrained. My childhood was a series of learned patterns that taught me to see hijab, and Islam as a whole, as a performance. I saw modesty and religion through a lens of external validation, especially male validation.

Everything was black and white: you were either good or bad. Heaven-sent or hell-bound.

Through this ruthless categorization, I always felt a desperation to prove my goodness and akhlaq. To preserve a reputation that was already compromised when people looked at the way I dressed before they heard me speak my mind. I was taught to pay no mind to men, yet my “purity” was contingent on how they saw me or treated me. Hijab became all about the seemingly most important thing about a woman: her ability to uplift or disgrace a man.

“Good men only want hijabis.”
“Any man who loves you is lustful.”
“She was asking for it. She should know men have natural urges.”
“You will disgrace the men in your family and send your father to hell.”

In turn, I fell into the Muslim girl trap of only feeling my worth could be determined through the male gaze while also being taught to avoid even making eye contact with a man. Male praise is deemed a rare and valuable commodity in the Muslim community. (I want to write an entire article on this because this sentence can’t do it justice).

For many years, I grappled with my desire to prove my modesty while simultaneously resisting any outward display that would make it feel like my parents “won.” I would feel resentful that I needed to prove I was one of the “good ones,” yet I would do it anyway. I would even internalize and project the things told to me onto other women, subtly picking up on how “modest” they were through their outward appearance.

Hijab is the most outwardly visible display of faith; it doesn’t reflect the internal. There are many hijabis who don’t pray regularly, and many non-hijabis who do. The point is not to compare or belittle either of them; it is to approach without judgment or bias. It was only when I could unlearn those patterns of judgment and see modesty through a lens of empowerment rather than shame or suppression that I began to see the beauty of hijab.

For over a year, I’ve been saying I want to wear the hijab. Throughout that time, I have been wearing it regularly to go pray every night at the mosque and when I teach Sunday school. But deep down, it’s only been in the past month that I’ve truly felt the urge come from a place that wasn’t motivated by shame or a desire to redeem myself through extrinsic validation. I came to the realization earlier this year that my motivation to wear the hijab was not for the right reasons, and decided to put the idea out of my mind entirely. I even began doing paid brand partnerships under the impression that I would not be changing my image for a long time.

But in the process of accepting myself as I was, I discovered who I could be when I was not governed by internal shame or familial pressure.

And that woman does want to wear a hijab. She wants to carry herself with confidence in her values and beliefs, and sees hijab as a redefinition of beauty and empowerment. She wants to create a space for Muslim women’s voices to be amplified in the niches she creates content in, and she wants to excel in both personal and career goals. She wants to be seen for her mind and respected for speaking it.

I decided to wear the hijab two days before my corporate internship, because I knew if I kept overthinking it, it would never happen. As I enter my final year in a competitive university and build a career in an even more competitive industry, I felt hesitant about this decision. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider how this would affect my brand partnerships, job interviews, and even everyday interactions. I even mourned covering my piercings. But while gaining the courage to take this step, I called several hijabi friends I look up to and who deeply inspire me. Among many of the resonating themes of these conversations, there was this consistent truth: Anything that comes out of hijab has to be good.

I have seen time and time again in my life that when I take a step towards strengthening my faith, my blessings increase tenfold. In an age of instant access and overconsumption, I’m a firm advocate that there will always be someone better than you. There will always be someone more smart, successful, beautiful, talented. The list goes on.

But what makes people so unique to one another is the time and energy they cultivate into knowing one another. What makes my friends beautiful to me is that I have deliberately seen their growth and take the time to cherish it and discover them as deeply as I can. In turn, I believe that the right people and opportunities will always recognize and respect all the qualities I have to offer, and will take the time and energy to explore the world alongside me.

There was no sign, no firework moment where I knew it was time to take this step. I just slowly felt my heart open to it, truly. And then it all came down to being brave enough to act upon that feeling.

This obviously means big changes to my account, as I have to recreate all my content from scratch and refilm for brand partnerships. But as always, I’m excited to take you all along the journey. I will continue to post self-growth content for multi-passionate creatives and students, and look forward to continuing to be a big sister to those who need it.

There has been so much goodness that has entered my life, so many incredible full-circle moments that have shown me the beauty of Islam and the necessity of faith amid science. I have had to blindly let go and trust that there were bigger plans for me, even when I didn’t understand what they were. Now, I am once again doing so. May Allah keep me steadfast as I adjust to this change.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I am not a role model nor am I a scholar when it comes to Islam. My content is not Islamic, as faith is usually a very private aspect of my life, though one I could talk about endlessly in my personal relationships. As a big sister, I am not exempt from making mistakes. Growth is not the absence of mistakes; it’s the ability to continue learning from them and showing up better next time.

My younger self had a lot of patterns to unlearn.

She has come so far not just in terms of faith, but in her character, education, and personal life. Every time she thought she knew herself and what life she wanted, life continued to surprise her. She went through the ups and downs of cognitive dissonance, redefining her values and discovering herself. She fell more times than she could count, sometimes publicly and sometimes privately. But she always picked herself back up and brushed it off.

And then she wore the hijab.