What I wish I knew before wearing hijab.

Hello hello! Today I wanted to write very openly about my realistic experience being a hijabi, because I want to normalize struggling in your hijab journey. I post very confidently online, and I’m worried I’m setting unrealistic expectations.

Consider this a filler post as I write about the epidemic of strict parenting in Muslim cultures, and how it leads to the deterioration of self-trust and courage for the children involved. I have so much to say about the topic, but not enough time to actually write something as formative as my Male Fantasy essay. I’m trying to find the balance between sharing personal experience, and applying the essay to a broader theme for social impact. I know I can write it well, but I realistically do not have the bandwidth at the moment. So here’s a quick post instead :)

It’s been almost three months since I wore hijab. Since then, I’ve had multiple women comment that I inspired them to start wearing hijab, keep it on, or feel more confident in it. But I have a confession.

Since the first day I wore it, I’ve consistently struggled.

I always hear stories of women who decided to wear hijab and felt a regained sense of peace afterward, people who’ve told me that they never regret their decision. Before I wore hijab, I talked to women who all seemed to reflect the same thing: you will never feel ready to start, but once you do it, everything falls into place.

Maybe it’s just taking a little longer for me, the adjustment has been hard.

We rarely talk about the difficulties of hijab, and so when a hijabi begins to feel doubt, she feels very alone and wonders if she should even be wearing it. I want to see more women normalizing the struggle of the hijab so that we can have the necessary conversations about how to overcome it.

Now that I’ve actually experienced being a hijabi publicly, I’d like to share what I’ve learned and wish I knew earlier. I will also be sharing my tips for gaining confidence in hijab at the end. These are the things I wish someone had realistically told me before I took the step, not as discouragement, but as preparation.

1. You won’t compare yourself to other women. You will compare yourself to your past self.

If you wear hijab later in life, after you have already become accustomed to your beauty, you will feel the lack. I’ve seen my potential without hijab. I’ve seen what I look like when I put effort, when I style my hair and do my makeup. I’ve also seen how people treated me on the days where I had the perfect outfit, the perfect styling—and most importantly—the visible confidence and assuredness in how I carried myself.

I have had to stop looking at photos of myself with my hair. I genuinely do not allow myself to dwell, because my hair was a defining feature of my beauty. Obviously, I will look more beautiful with my hair out, with my clothes hugging my figure. I knew when I wore hijab that I would be concealing my beauty, but I have to remind myself that just because it’s not publicly visible doesn’t mean it no longer exists.

Part of that means avoiding looking at old photos of myself that tempt me to compare.

2. You will judge yourself more harshly.

Before I became a hijabi, I felt so close to Allah SWT.

I felt a very strong iman and conviction, and constantly saw Islam out of a lens of love. But wearing hijab has placed me in a different community, and has warped my intentions in some ways. I observe myself through a harsher lens; not one of religion, but of social conditioning. Islam has become such a publicly visible identity that I feel I must be careful of everything I do, because I also face harsher scrutiny. Every step I take on social media, as well as within my own family, comes with deeper judgement.

Honestly, I struggle to consider myself a hijabi deep down because I know I’m not wearing it properly and because I’ve been taught that hijabis must all “act” a certain way. I was raised with the mentality of “wear it right or take it off” and I internalize it sometimes. I’ve felt so distant and alienated from something that was once deeply personal and intimate to me. When I had islam to myself—before it became a core identity that everyone could externally see and judge—it was so much easier.

I feel like I’ve become a token character online. Muslim brands will reach out to collaborate because I am a hijabi, people want me to represent the religion but don’t listen when I represent myself as a person. It’s almost like Muslim women aren’t allowed to have hobbies (new essay??).

I feel more friction and shame in my everyday worship as I overcome the external noise.

3. You don’t really feel like a hijabi (at first).

I’m used to letting fabric slide up my arms, I wore t-shirts before I wore hijab. I’m used to my hair showing. I’m used to wearing necklaces and having my neck exposed. Because these things have been so normalized in my behavior for the past 21 years, I don’t feel a sense of urgency when placing the new constraints of hijab upon myself.

I feel natural when my sleeves ride up my arms, I don’t feel scandalous. I don’t feel wrong if my hijab slips off and I readjust it, because people have seen my hair before. It’s harder to place these new limits upon yourself because you don’t feel the weight of it after so many years of dressing freely.

It feels oddly impermanent, and permanent all at once.

4. Your wardrobe will change (duh).

I thought I had a relatively modest wardrobe, but the difference is that I could go out without makeup, with my hair in a bun and an oversized t-shirt, and feel fine. But somehow, the hijab makes me feel like I have to compensate sometimes.

Not to appear more beautiful, but because I want to look more put-together and approachable.

I feel the need to look presentable because I know I stand out sometimes. I rely more heavily on makeup, especially because I lost so much weight last year that I look much younger. I thought that I’d have to dress very basic, but I’ve started to have fun with modest fashion. I’ve shockingly begun to develop new tastes and styles that I never would have had before.

My bank account has been taking a hit, but it’s so worth it.

5. You will imagine non-hijabis in hijab.

I don’t know if I’m the only one who does this.

Sometimes, I see a really beautiful non-hijabi (mashallah allahumabarik ofc) and my first instinct is to imagine her in hijab. And likewise, sometimes I see a random hijabi and imagine what it would be like without her hijab. It’s a silent game I play with myself whenever I’m outside.

I think it’s because I’m curious how differently we’d all be perceived if we’d swapped roles. It also is extremely comforting to see other beautiful hijabi women confidently wearing it, it makes me feel more empowered.

6. Men.

Hijab has never been about men. But ironically, wearing hijab made me receive more unwanted male attention than ever. Many muslim men see hijab as an automatic petition for marriage, whereas others take out their sexual shame and suppression upon hijabi women.

It’s honestly so odd and I’ve gotten into the habit of using the block button because some of the messages I’ve received were extremely disturbing and I don’t know how to stop it. In both scenarios, men assume hijab instantly means that you are behaving solely for them. Whether to display yourself for marriage or judgement/condemnation.

I’m probably exposed to it more frequently and at higher levels because of my digital presence.

7. Non-Muslims don’t care whatsoever.

Ironically, all the judgement has come from the Muslim community. Non-muslims who knew me before I wore hijab speak to me exactly the same and don’t even bring up the change. Non-Muslims who met me after have never held biases against me.

I landed a really good internship with some of the biggest people in tech and they didn’t care whatsoever about my personal religious decisions, they just cared how I could contribute.

Before I wore hijab, I thought my biggest problem would be corporate America. I see now that the true problem was my own community.

8. All your “ugly days” will look beautiful in hindsight.

Now, when I look at old photos of myself I disliked, I genuinely see so much beauty in them. When I glance in the mirror with my hair tied half-up during a mundane day athome, I’m struck by how beautiful I actually am (call me conceited, but I actually quite like myself).

Even in the most hideous non-hijab photos I’ve taken, I look so beautiful in hindsight. But this is also a positive. I imagine that someday when I’m 60 inshAllah, this is how I’ll feel about this current period in my life.

9. Don’t set a deadline to wear hijab.

I think this is the biggest mistake I made.

I felt very certain about hijab in mid-May, but I told myself I’d wait until I finish my semester and wear it a day before I start my in-person job that summer. But by then, I was in an environment that made it harder and made me doubt myself. The day before my job, I knew I’d made a promise to myself. But I sat for a very long time in my room feeling very hesitant as the hijab sat on top of my head.

I knew if I stepped out of my room and my family saw me, there was no going back. I forced myself to ignore the feeling and walked out anyway.

Looking back, I honestly wasn’t ready. I was ready for hijab. But not in a judgemental environment. I wasn’t ready to deal with the anxiety of meeting new people at a new job and feeling a dissonance between who I’m used to being and how I’m now perceived. I wasn’t ready to deal with the disgusted looks my mom throws me when I don’t fully cover my neck. I wasn’t ready to enter job interviews and meetings when I felt so unfamiliar in my own skin.

And honestly, I wasn’t ready to balance all the existing stress and dissonance I was dealing with while shouldering a new, very publicly visible identity. The hijab itself is beautiful. But I shouldn’t have forced myself to do it during such a difficult period when I felt that initial hesitation. But alhamdullilah, no regrets, because I’ve grown so tremendously since!

1. Lower your gaze.

This doesn’t just apply to the opposite gender. This applies to your old photos, to random girls online, to the girl with cool hair you saw a few days ago, to the hijabi who wears it more properly. Filter your social media. I’ve found that consuming content of hijabi women being loved or building flourishing lives truly inspires me. I’ve started a groupchat for Muslimah content creators so I can connect with them more.

My pinterest board used to be hairstyle inspo, now it’s all hijabi outfits that get me excited to put it on every day.

2. Buy clothes that make you feel more confident.

Surprisingly, for me, this has meant very monochrome sets, semi-formal attire (for work), and a ridiculous amout of hijabs and hijab magnets. Lots of jewelry too, of course. Get basics such as long sleeve turtlenecks, undercaps, and jackets. If a tank top or shirt keeps exposing your neck or collarbones, wear it backwards as the neckline at the back is usually longer. I’ve also been designing my own pieces (coming sooooon?).

3. Try new styles.

This may be controversial, but I think taking a step towards proper hijab is better than not wearing it at all. I honestly have been feeling more confident trying different styles that feel more like baby steps toward proper hijab.

I recommend trying different hijab styles and colors until you find something that makes you feel comfortable in your own skin.

4. Write a letter about your why

Before I wore hijab, I was certain that I wanted to do it. One of the best things I’ve done for myself is writing a letter talking about how I felt in that moment. I wrote why I’m wearing it, what my purpose is, and my gratitude for reaching this point. Whenever I’m struggling with doubt, I read that letter and feel much more grounded.

Don’t let this discourage you. These aren’t reasons not to wear it, these are just things you may experience if you do, especially if you’re wearing it at an older age. And luckily, they are all solvable, I’ve been working on it and have begun to feel more empowered in hijab recently.

These challenges are there for a reason, for us to learn to fight our nafs. I have never met a girl who doesn’t want to feel beautiful and admired, and to let go of that once you’ve already had a taste is so incredibly difficult. There will always be excuses not to wear hijab, but if you truly want to for the right reasons, you will find a way to make it work.

If anything, I’m proof that despite all these things, there is still strength in wearing it. Yes, I deal with these things, but I’ve begun feeling more assured and radiant in hijab. Even if I’d delayed the decision, I know I would’ve taken it anyway. Every blessing in my life is from Allah, even hijab. Experiencing these lows is normal, but I wish we talked about it more.

And the longer I wear it, the more days I begin to feel beautiful in it. Not just externally, but internally.

May Allah make your journey fulfilling and easy. <3