The day I decided to permanently to wear hijab also happened to be the day after 9/11.

I was in the fourth grade, just barely 11 years old, so I can’t say I understood the gravity of what had just happened.

But I did understand the pictures of Middle Eastern men being flashed across my TV, wearing the same clothes my dad wore to Juma’ah prayer and sporting beards similar to that of the imam at my masjid.

I understood my non-Muslim classmates, who spit out angry words like “Muslim terrorists” and “towel-heads,” and asked unapologetically, “Is your mom friends with Bin Laden?”

I understood the strange looks we got from the neighbors and neighborhood shopkeepers, who previously used to greet us each morning with smiles.

And I understood the hijab. When I donned it that day, it was not only a declaration of my faith and love for Allah (swt), but it was also an act of defiance.

“You think you can scare me into forgetting who I am?” my hijab said for me. “Well think again.”

Since then, my hijab and I have been through a lot. We’ve been stopped at airports. We’ve been told to go back to our own country. We’ve been yelled at from passing cars, and we’ve even been accused of solely orchestrating the World Trade Center attacks. Once or twice, we’ve been asked, “What are you going to do? Blow up Disneyland?”

It’s occurred to me that wearing hijab at such a tumultuous and volatile time for American Muslims might have even repelled me from wearing hijab at all.

But if anything, I grew even more obstinate in my effort to keep it on.

Because in the face of all adversity, the hijab was there to remind me: “There’s a purpose here greater than the luxury of an easy life.”

I was able, like so many other Muslim girls, to plough through. There was a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, and the hijab didn’t let me forget that.

Muslim girls who wear hijab often cite many reasons for wearing it. Some say it’s modesty before the prying eyes of men. Others say it gives them a sense of empowerment or liberation. Some may even wear it as a fashion statement or because their parents demanded it of them. 

There can be many reasons why you wear it - I’ve often given multiple answers to the inevitable question - but the ultimate goal should always be to serve Allah (swt).

All the other reasons are just convenient extras, like a free gift with the purchase of perfume.

You don’t buy perfume for the free gift. And if you do, you’re going to be really disappointed with the free gift, which you realize was cheaply made and easily ripped apart.

If you put any other reason before God, then you - and your hijab - are going to be in a lot of trouble.

It’s only on rare occasions now that I’m harassed in the supermarket with a whispered racist remark. But people aren’t any less brazen - most of them don’t hesitate to approach me and ask me about why I wear “that thing” on my head. And I don’t mind.

And that’s because my hijab is no longer an act of defiance but an invitation to Muslims and non-Muslims alike to ask me about my faith.

But hijab will always be a symbol of my servitude to Allah.