But underneath that glossy sheen is the burkha —or rather, the hijr (the protection). It is the shield. It is the whisper that says, Your value is not in your neck, your hair, or the curve of your ears. Your value is in your substance.
Don't ask me to take off my burkha to fit into your office. And don't ask me to wipe off my lipstick to fit into your congregation.
For a long time, I thought these two parts of me were at war. I thought the burkha (or more accurately, my hijab and modest clothing) was the enemy of my femininity. I thought the lipstick was a betrayal of my faith. burkha under my lipstick
The Burkha Under My Lipstick: On Duality, Choice, and Being a Woman in Between
You are not a hypocrite. You are a human being. And there is nothing more sacred than a woman who decides for herself what stays on her body and what comes off. But underneath that glossy sheen is the burkha
To the outside world, the lipstick is the mask. It is the armor of the corporate world, the signal of confidence, the Western shorthand for "put together." It says, I am here. I am loud. I am ambitious.
Living with the "burkha under my lipstick" means accepting that I will never fully fit into a neat box. I am too religious for the feminists and too liberated for the fundamentalists. Your value is in your substance
I was wrong. They aren’t enemies. They are roommates in a very cramped studio apartment called my soul.