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Veiled
Covering up in the United States
by Maysan Haydar
      

     It never ceases to amaze me. As much as people preach the importance of accepting differences, they still stare when I walk in the door. It’s the same old reaction every time. Their eyes get really big, occasionally their jaws drop, and they watch my every move, trying to figure out just who I am. I don’t have a third eye or some strange growth on my face (except my nose, but that’s a different story). I happen to be a Muslim woman, and as such I wear clothes that don’t reveal anything except my hands and my face. This ensemble includes a scarf that hides my hair and loose clothing that doesn’t hint at any sort of body form.  . . .

     A few years back, my clothing inspired nothing more than a lot of confused looks. Now, thanks to movies like Not Without My Daughter and a whole series of Chuck Norris flicks, people ask instead, “I wonder if she gets beaten by her father/brother/arranged husband/any guy whose harem she dances in.” Or they think I’m a terrorist. So rather than explaining my culture, I’m stuck reassuring the Hollywoodized masses that no, I don’t have an Uzi hidden under this thing. . . .

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