That Woman You Call Mother



Why is it that she would without a second thought give her life for you? Why is it that she would carry you in her arms or push you in your pram even if her limbs hurt, but but would never think of blaming you for the pain? Where does your pain start and the concern of your mother end? Why is it that she will go out without asking so that you can have your clothes on back? Why is it that the bond is so dear that only a mother can understand? Why is it she would look out from the window and not sleep until she knew you were safe? Why is it she would never eat until she knew you were done? Why is it that the jewel (mother) in your life are being taken for granted? Why is it she remember so much about you but you remember her so little?

You caused her so much pain. Many times you hang your head in shame as you remember your mistakes. You remember that when your father punished you it was her hands that stopped him, it was her hands that brought you food, it was her lap that you rest your head and cried out of frustrations and failures. You cling to the hope that the tears will be forgotten in the life yet to come where you will swim in the mercy of your Rabb (God) and she will light up the jannah with her smile.

If you close your eyes you can remember how your mother smell, her soft thin fingers on your face, the feel of her lips as she kissed your eyes.

Does the enemy of ALLAH (subhana wa ta’ala) believe they can torture you? The pain is the look in ouur mother’s face when you know she will leave you for the last time. The pain is feeling the softness of her skin against yours for the last time. The pain is knowing that your ears will never hear her voice again asking you if you are well.

People come and go but she will always be there. You are the fruits of her du’as (prayers) and it is the du’a that ALLAH (subhana wa ta’ala) will never refuse. Love her unconditionally, for you may never know when is the time she leaves you forever. You may never be able to pay back all her sacrifices on you. And worst, you may never tell her how much you love her.




My Hijab, My Choice


There’s also such diversity in the way Muslim women feel about, understand, and observe hijab. Some women hate it because forms of it are forced on them. Some Irani women have undertaken a social-media campaign to show themselves without the scarves and the long black chador coverings as a way of protesting being made to wear them. I get that. The headscarf is a source of strength for me, but that stems largely from the luxury of having a choice about if I want to wear it and how I want to wear it.

I’m a professional in my 30s, living on her own and working as an attorney and consultant in New York City. I am also a former hijabi, a de-jabi, and now a re-jabi. These things might seem like contradictions to some, but it’s entirely consistent in my mind as part of a long, nuanced spiritual journey…

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