Weddings should always be about the bride. Her glittery Pantene hair; her natural shades of make-up; her snowy white dress; it’s always about the bride unless something drastic happens. Like, say a hijab-clad woman enters an all-non-Muslim wedding.
Some people wonder what you’re doing there and immediately want to know who invited you, perhaps out of curiosity or perhaps so they can sigh in relief. Also, because people will be politically incorrect, thanks to subconscious-awakening tongue-loosening alcohol.
Recently, I attended a wedding ceremony of a close non-Muslim friend. Her family, who is well-cultured, ensured there was vegetarian food and virgin drinks. Naturally, I bumped into some people with a good sense of humour, like the nice guy who asked “would you prefer alcohol that doesn’t taste like alcohol?”
I expected curious questions, and I was asked. But what I wasn’t expecting was ignorance. I’m always up in arms about ignorant Muslims who have an opinion. But I realized, outside the bubble of ignorant Muslims there are also equally ignorant non-Muslims, who unfortunately, also have opinions, likethe beautiful educated woman who momentarily sat beside me at the wedding. Just a FYI, she has cared for patients from all walks of life for over 15 years.
“So tell me… why would someone like you cover up so much?” she pointed to my hijab and long-sleeved top. I got excited for a moment because I thought she was looking to enrich her mind with an answer.
Alas, that was not the case.
She completed her ‘question’ with “You got married and your husband wants you to wear it, right? So other men can’t check you out.” I couldn’t help hide my woman-are-you-cuckoo face. “Oh. No?It must be your father.” she corrected herself.
I had to say something at this point before she really offended me and tells me that Bin Laden, my husband of 10 years, ordered me and my five invisible young daughters to “cover up so much”.
“Um, you’re way off”. I smiled. “I’m not close to being married, and no, my parents had nothing to say about my decision to wear the scarf”.
Then she pulled her chair closer and looked me in the eye. I stared back. She asked how long. I answered. Then she sighed, “You know… for us here it’s hard to understand why someone like you would choose to cover everything up”. “’Us’ who.” I said, but I wasn’t asking. Just subtly letting her know if “us” is Canadian, then that would include me.
She took another sip from her glass, leaned back and said, “It adds so much mystique… it doesn’t hide beauty if that’s what it’s supposed to do”.
“It’s a statement”. I said.
“A statement?” she frowned in puzzlement.
“Yes, a statement about who I am. What I believe in. I’m letting you know what you can expect from me. And also, what I am expecting from you”.
“Now that’s interesting. So tell me… what’s your ethnic background?” I told her my background of halves and when I said Arab, she touched my hijab and asked “So this is from your Arab side?” I began to wonder if she worked at a hospital where Muslims were banned.
“No, this is my Muslim side”. I answered.
“So help me figure this out. Muslims are what exactly? Because there are Arabs and they all cover up and what about…?”
God have mercy. The lovely and perhaps embarrassed couple sitting beside us interrupted her, excused themselves, and asked if the woman investigating my hijab would join them. She said it was a pleasure to meet me.
I was stunned and worried. A woman of her education and experience had a strong opinion about Muslims, but didn’t know the difference between ‘Arab’ and ‘Muslim’.
I wonder if this opinionated woman ever participated in the poll revealing that 45% of Canadians and 78% of the French think it is necessary to ban the hijab due to “concerns about Islamic extremism” [1].
Rather than rectifying ignorance with open-minded questions, this woman nourished it with stereotypes while 45% of Canadians nourished it with an opinion. How comforting.
I would rather people ask stupid questions than assume. I would rather people ask me if I’m bald or simply ask ‘why’? But if they choose not to ask, I would hope they not assume on my behalf. Because that’s what ‘oppressed’ hijab-clad women like me, call ignorance.
Weddings should always be about the bride. Her glittery Pantene hair; her natural shades of make-up; her snowy white dress; it’s always about the bride unless something drastic happens. Like, say a hijab-clad woman enters an all-non-Muslim wedding. 
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