The Real World – on Saturday. Sorry I didn’t mean to mess up the dates, but Saturday was full of me and my hajib so I couldn’t really explain what reactions what I got when I went out on errands with my mom. Also this post would cover the events of my aunt’s birthday which was at my house. Very interesting, to say the least!
I was nervous going out with the hajib. Since I haven’t seen any hajibs in my hometown, I’ve only seen some Muslim women at popular vacation destinations in downtown of a nearby city. Anyways, I went to CVS, which straddles the border between the affluent and poorer housing developments. As my mom walked very quickly – she said that she wanted the errands to be over with, but I think she walked quickly as not to associate with me, haha – into the store, there was a video camera and a TV overhead, I watched myself as I walked in. It was so surreal to see myself enveloped in a black hijab, eyes peering back at me, taking long, striding steps the same time as I took mine. I could feel nervous gazes on me, but I just pretended not to notice. I didn’t want to look around and make myself more suspicious than I already am. A Mexican guy walked into the aisle, laid his eyes on me, then nervously started to walk towards the detergent area of the aisle. He peered at me and I, already looking at him, kept my gaze. He continued this for a second before he gave in and looked away. Then I remembered that Muslim women are supposed to look down to the floor and be humble and chaste. I swore under my breath, before remembering that I can’t swear. Shoot! Darn! Farm it! (An euphemism for the ending syllable of Amsterdam) When I was in line, my mom and I chatted a little bit but it was so awkward, even with my mom. She was not trying to avoid conversation, but it was the feeling of talking to a non-Muslim that made it awkward. Then a cashier guy beckoned us over. My mom laid a bleach pen and a magazine she grabbed from the rack. The cashier’s breath smelled of cigarettes. Overall, he didn’t seem to care about the obvious. One down, more to go. I left, following my mom, with a sigh.
Next stop, Petco, to get a special food mix for my dog, who is suffering from itching and skin infection from an unknown origin. When I entered, there was a stand full of dog biscuits. There was a heavy set lady who was facing away from me. As usual, my mom walked ahead of me. I took my time and entered slowly and calmly. The store seemed to be overemployed, there were two employees – the heavyset woman and a twig man standing idly. The twig was in the aisle, organizing; he didn’t notice me immediately. The heavy set lady, however, had turned around and noticed my outfit. She immediately gave me a smile that was too much. My hajib was beyond her skills to comprehend, her smile was not as realistic; her smile bared too much teeth – white and neat – and there was fear in her eyes. The twig man with long arms, looked up and noticed me; he gave me a nervous smile. My hopes went up but flickered as his smile was originally heartfelt, but his fear took over and the smile faltered. We left. My dog’s diet food had to be prescribed, the trip was not a success.
My mom strolled and noticed a frame shop and sauntered in. I followed suit, as usual. I ALWAYS walk next to her, but I guess the hajib is an exception. The man genuinely smiled at me. My hopes were revived after that crash and burn with the heavyset lady and the twig man. My mom conversed with the man while I strolled and looked at the pictures displayed in elegant and gaudy frames. The man smiled again at me; he surprised me. He was in his late fifties, and I thought that his conservatism would interfere with his business sense and he would give me a glunch (Look it up on wordnik.com!). Next up was Albertson’s. We entered and I immediately felt many glances doubled at me. It was weird because we weren’t familiar with that store, and as we found the aisle our supposed items – metal 3M hooks to hold up brooms and mops – were in. We perused the area, but it was not there. We quickly left. I can imagine what the cashier’s reactions were when he/she saw a Muslim girl walk in and then a few seconds later, leaves without buying anything. “What the…? Kenny! Search for a bomb in aisle 9!” And then the bag boy would dodder towards aisle 9.
We went to VONS to buy some necessities for my aunt’s birthday party on Sunday, which is today. We finished shopping and went into the check out aisle. Luckily, the cashier was not the ones I am familiar with. He gave me a quick smile and started ringing our items up. An old lady, probably in her eighties, walked in behind us. I was looking at the moving belt, I could see her glaring at me in my peripheral vision. I finally started to indicate that I am going to look at her, turning my head slowly. She changed the subject of her glare to my mom, as if saying, “What kind of a mother would allow her daughter to become a Muslim?!?” Her right eye twitched. We got our bags and left.
THEN, we went to Dixieline to search for the nonexistent metal hooks. I passed through the metal turnstile, no idea where to begin in the massive hardware store. I finally pinpointed it to one aisle… And there was none. However, there was an old man who was took by surprise, his eyes wider than ever in his glasses that made his eyes wide (Tongue twister!!! Haha). My mom got frustrated and went to the help desk. She told me to get a number from the odd-shaped red ticker machine. I took a number and stood next to my mom who was standing next to a man sitting in a deck chair which was a part of the exhibit welcoming visitors and bored kids. The dark skinned man, took one glance at me, put up his arm to protect his eyes from the sight of me, but couldn’t get enough of it away from his sight. He stood up and walked next to another deck chair and patiently waited. That one moment really made me feel insecure and sad, that man had moved because of me, but I had no reason to move him – I didn’t smell, I was not smothering all over him, I was just standing there in my black hajib patiently. That moment also made me realize what Muslims have to go through everyday in a climate that isn’t accustomed to Muslims. We didn’t get our metal hooks, and we went home.
Readers! I have gotten better at my hijab styling!!! A picture!
Tonight is my aunt’s birthday. Well, I am typing this while my family are playing Liverpool. I hate Liverpool! So much mental work. I don’t like it. Haha. I’m such a lazy person. Whatever.
Anyways. I was watching ESPN – my dad insisted on watching the beginning of the Celts vs. whoever game. I was facing away from the door and there it was, the lights flashed, indicating the doorbell. I remained motionless, taking a deep breath, expecting a broad range of reactions from my kinspeople. I would say not blood related when it applies. My grandmother, aunt, not blood related uncle, not blood related family friend, two cousins – one boy and girl, another aunt, and my parents were there. I stood up, and turned around. My grandmother has glaucoma and I was surprised when she said, “I don’t know who you are!”, pulling me into a hug. I laughed and complied. Then, she mentioned, “So, you’re training to be a nun, huh?” My white underscarf had been showing and I said, “No, I am converting to Islam right now.” I was totally shocked that my grandmother didn’t react since she was in her eighties and trained to hate anyone who’s not American, you know that kind of lady. Up next, my aunt. I told her Happy Birthday and she replied with a, “So, are you converting into a nun?” I groaned in my head, and told her about the Islam thing. She had this weird kind of expression, an mixture of disappointment and shock and forced acceptance. I didn’t record my not blood related uncle’s reaction. He’s a beatnik – the ones who are outraged against the Iraq War and Bush and all that. He’s a little bit annoying, to say the least. Anyways, after a while milling about and conversing with people, my dad came up to me and reported that my grandmother had came up to him and yelled at him for letting me turn Muslim. I laughed and my dad said that Grandma was dead on serious. Then I just announced that it was for a week long project because the tension in the air was unbearable and unusual for a family setting. Besides, it was a birthday and I didn’t wait it about me. So I think I made the right decision in announcing that. My family also curiously asked me some questions about Islamic culture. I coolly replied them all, but got stumped by one: Do Muslims celebrate birthdays? I went online and searched for the answer. The answer: They don’t really celebrate birthdays. It’s more of an American culture to celebrate birthdays. But I claim my gift (An impossible puzzle) to be charity towards my aunt. We had a good laugh over that. Overall, after they got used to the black thing that is now residing on my head, I had fun.
I gotta get ready for tomorrow and some big reactions from some of my more conservative friends. One of my friend, about an year ago, said that she hates Muslims and that they should be exiled from America. I was like, “Wow. Talk about not coexisting.” We will see tomorrow! I don’t see her that often, but still!