You are not meeting my eyes. They are beneath the cloth I wear on my head, actually.
No, I am from America.
Yes, it is called a hijab.
No, this cloth is not hijab.
Hijab is not a covering, a hiding-away, a flinching-back. It is a coming-out, a blazing-through.
Hijab is not here for you to fetishize taking it off with your fingers/armies/democracy.
Hijab is suffering for democracy.
Hijab is a dark, raised fist.
Hijab is kissing the feet of our mothers.
Hijab is not a fashion statement.
Hijab is not a flag.
Sometimes, Hijab is not veiling.
Hijab is a reminder to lower your gaze, to swallow your (male) entitlement, to try to SEE me,
not just look at me. I'm human.