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Muslim for a day
How does it feel to be a Muslim woman in Germany? Cristiana Moisescu wanted to find out and put on a Muslim headscarf or hijab for a day, hoping to notice people’s reaction. The result was most surprising.
I can’t hear. People are talking around me, laughing and taking pictures, but I feel like I’ve just been plunged into water. The noise is muffled, and when I try to speak, my words echo back. I wonder if everyone feels like this at first, or whether the feeling never really goes away. I look in the mirror: my eyes look bigger, my face whiter and my hair is no longer visible. I have just donned the hijab, with the help of a Muslim friend and the support of a lot of non-Muslim ones. They now stand in front of me, taking pictures and telling me I look good. My dark eyes and dark hair could easily make me pass for a Muslim, but can I do it?
My hair is held together by a head undercover, similar to a bonnet, over which the actual scarf, or hijab, is placed, following exact specifications: its margins have to maintain an oval shape at all times, close to the chin at the bottom and not touching the forehead. By accidentally pulling on them, I have apparently "ruined it". Without thinking, I start laughing. So what if the shape isn’t perfect, it’s still a hijab, why does it matter?
We are on the street now, walking towards the train station. People are going past me indifferently, a demeanour which tells me they’re not seeing anything unusual. Instead, it’s me who looks more intently at passers-by, expecting a reaction. But this is Berlin, home to over three million people, out of which almost 15 percent are immigrants. Nothing surprises anyone anymore. I catch myself looking at boys, a behaviour made acceptable by my background, education and religion and am surprised to see their furtive glances, looking but not quite, always quickly taking their eyes away. More surprising still, it takes me a while to realize why that is – I have forgotten the hijab and this experiment. For a few seconds I was myself again, looking people in the eye and expecting them to look back. Flirting is definitely different with a hijab!
Multi-Kulti Kreuzberg
It’s cold and windy on the train platform, and my bonnet escapes its place, revealing itself to the people around me. Immediately, its true owner jumps to cover me up, with an eagerness which I don’t understand. “It’s like showing your underwear”, she explains as she quickly fits it better on my head. Again, I am seized by an uncontrollable desire to laugh.
My experiment hasn’t made me feel out of place until now, but once we arrive in Kreuzberg, one of the ‘multi-kulti’ neighbourhoods of Berlin, I feel very much in place. Turkish sweet shops pop out at every corner, restaurants boasting everything from Iranian to Italian are waiting for customers and people of different nationalities roam the streets. Our own group is a perfect example of multiculturalism, as we cover every nationality from Tokyo to London while eating in an Iranian restaurant where the waitress is of French-Algerian origin.
This is the month of Ramadan, and for the past two days I have watched my Muslim friend not eating or drinking anything before the sun sets, a feat of which I would be incapable. After I put on the hijab I felt I should be doing the same thing, but nonetheless never managed to. I ate and drank with a free conscience and it wasn’t until my friend asked me not to drink alcohol wearing the scarf that I realised what had been bugging me from the beginning…
A scarf does not a Muslim make
I put on a Muslim scarf in a country where, just two months ago, a woman was killed for wearing one and in a courtroom no less. Was I expecting the same? Of course not. Was I expecting to encounter some type of negative reaction? Definitely. I just never assumed that it would be my own.
Ironically enough, this experiment stemmed from a prejudice - people behaving differently towards Muslims - and in this respect I was expecting ugly looks, stares, avoidance. What I came across was a non-reaction, to which I was the one reacting. Instead of accepting the peaceful behaviour around me, I was the ‘aggressive’ one: staring, trying to talk loudly, trying to provoke. It came as a shock when I realized that I was aiming for a more visible reaction because it is often my own.
The ‘developing country’ tag has kept my own country of origin, Romania, well out of the way of immigrants, thus diminishing our chances of multicultural diversity and turning seeing a Muslim or a black person in the streets into a truly rare adventure. Along the years, this has obviously influenced my behaviour as well, making me more curious and interested, albeit sometimes intrusive.
Another goal of this serious ‘game’ was to watch the world through a Muslim woman’s perspective. Instead, the only thing that I found was how very non-Muslim I feel, even when dressed as one. I couldn’t care less about drinking when wearing a scarf because I do not understand the meaning of it. I laughed when my ‘underwear’ showed, because for me, it’s just a piece of white cloth and nothing to be ashamed of.
Similarly, I was expecting people to see me differently because I myself was seeing them differently. What I realised is that my Muslim friend is not just another face in the crowd, but not because she wears a veil. She is unique because her faith is her own, and she is her own person, with a name to match it, Kübra.
In the end, I took off the scarf. I could suddenly not only hear again, but also see better.
Posted in | 08.09.09
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