At the mirror in the washroom I undo my scarf. Hours later, my hair is still wet from my morning shower. The moisture is mostly locked in at the nape of my neck. I tug my hairband free and run both my hands through my hair, shaking it out in a quick frenzy, releasing the matted, tangled mass that falls around my face haphazardly.
I survey myself in the mirror, amused. I would like to say it is a look I pull off, but it isn’t. Far from seductive, only nondescript messy and just now grown past one spectacularly bad haircut.
“Your hair’s black,” said my sister last night, suprised, while preparing for bed.
I snorted. These people I live with.
Now, under flourescent lights, it shows up brown, single strands glinting auburn.
The girl beside me watches surreptitiously as she touches up her makeup.
I dig my fingers deep into my scalp, close my eyes for a moment. Momentarily tired.
She’s checked her eyeshadow and has applied another layer of lipstick and is blatantly loitering now while I twist my hair back into its provisional ponytail.
She leaves as I pick up my jacket and bag.
I would make, I have decided, an excellent boy. I would never comb my hair and it would grow out in a shock of ridiculous curls that would get in the way of hoodies and caps.
As it, I don’t comb my hair and it isn’t curly.
As it is, my hair stays wet the whole day through, crumples around my face in the evenings, releasing the scents of morning showers.
As it is, I trip over words and level ground and want to crop my hair to a close three inches.
…you forgot to put your scarf back on! astaghfirullah!
By: safiyyah on January 13, 2008
at 4:51 pm
this is like you pulled a “veil” aside and we’re peering into a secluded space: yo head. very revealing, squirmingly good and very noddable-to, too.
By: commonplacer on January 13, 2008
at 8:04 pm
though, the thing is, i have serious reservations about this piece. the moment’s come across wrong; too many binaries can be read into this. the woman at the mirror watching me may very well have been muslim herself, may have been curious about how exactly i tie my headwrap the way i do – and yet my mention of eyeshadow and lipstick makes it appear that i have something against makeup and that my headscarf is an indication of that.
and in the original draft, one of the lasts sentences read, “As it is, I am a girl” and i removed that because it sounded disappointed – the use of the word ‘girl,’ for instance, and its contrast from the boy i am not and his riotous curls.
that sense of envy lingers still, though. and yet it’s misplaced. i don’t actually feel envious of the boy or his curls, but the confines of the piece suggest otherwise.
which is frustrating, that i have to speak despite myself.
this is why i don’t like writing about the hijab or hair – too much of the language comes with connotations i can’t displace. or not well enough to my satisfaction, anyway.
in the meantime – hair. is like cigars. sometimes it’s just hair.
By: fathima on January 14, 2008
at 7:44 pm
sorry, can you explain how hair is like cigars? also, I was thinking to call you up about this piece and ask you what your hair looks like. it sparked my interest
Actually I think I will call you.
By: Asmaa on January 14, 2008
at 9:14 pm
sigh. what have you done, fathima cader. now, i cannot rest until i see you, sans veil.
although i know, it may not have been your intention, the first word that comes to mind, on reading this: seductive.
mohja kahf would be pleased.
By: zb on January 18, 2008
at 1:49 am
i suspect that was kind of what i was aiming it. and the hope was that that impression would be squashed by the title. but – futile effort i know. i could be bald for all the world knows and the fetishism would continue unabated.
(though fetishisation is not a charge i’m making against the girl.)
anyway, a conversation:
me: so i want to cut my hair to about three inches. it’s shoulder length right now -
friend1: i knew it!
friend2: what, she can’t have long luxuriant hair?
me: well, actually, my mom and my sister do.
me [continued]: my father, on the other hand, is balding.
By: fathima on January 18, 2008
at 2:18 am
well. i haven’t heard of fathers having luxuriant hair, fathima, so err, i’d say senor cader is on the right track?
also: this still could mean you have luxuriant hair, but want to go bald. or something.
By: zb on January 18, 2008
at 2:46 am