Behind+the+Veil

Veils Malala The Koran Rumi, Muslim Mystic Woman in Islam

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[|Perception of Muslim People]

Behind the Veil We are All the Same This piece is about a very brief but immensely powerful moment in my life. In 2004, at the end of a seven-day stay in Washington DC for the Presidential Classroom Media and Democracy Conference, a Muslim girl from New Jersey bravely stood before me and 40 other students, to discuss her religion. She was bold and emotional in her speech about how her family has been denounced for their beliefs since September 11, and why she is proud to be a Muslim.

The week I spent at Presidential Classroom was a major highlight of my high school career. What I experienced there broadened how I perceive the world, and the lessons I learned were invaluable. But what I remember most is not what I learned about the government or politics, but about the night I saw myself in the eyes of a quiet Muslim girl.

On the last night of my visit, the 40 other students I spent the week with were packed into a small meeting room in the basement of our hotel. We had been there many times throughout the last seven days, but this time was different-- we were there to say goodbye. As we sat together one last time, each of us had the opportunity to say what we would miss most. But I could not pay attention to anything that was said. My eyes were locked on a dark, still figure sitting in the corner of the room.

She was shrouded in black linens, and in her slouched position on the floor, no face, arms or legs were visible. I would have thought it was an ominous sight were it not for the Presidential Classroom nametag that jutted out from beneath the dark mass that read "Nadia." I realized that much like her isolation from the group now, her entire week had been one of loneliness.

Nadia barely moved from where sat on the floor. She seemed hesitant to look up and afraid to join the group, but I could not understand why. We all had tried to make her feel included numerous times throughout the week. When she seemed depressed, we tried to make her laugh. When she seemed lonesome, we tried to start conversations with her. She rarely lifted her veil-covered head to look at us, but when she did, we saw her eyes-- the only visible feature on her face-- and in them, a profound sadness. When I looked at them, they reminded me of the walls of a dam. There was so much emotion behind them just waiting to pour out. While the rest of us held makeshift address books in one hand (as part of our vow to keep in touch) and disposable cameras in the other, Nadia tightly clenched a heavy black shawl draped over her body, and held it close to her. It looked as if I would never get the chance to know her the way I wanted. I would never get to see the face under the dark, protective veil, and I was immensely disappointed. But moments after everyone finished speaking and the room became quiet, Nadia slowly rose from the corner, walked to the middle of the room, and spoke to us for the first time. "This has been a memorable week," she said with a sigh, in a quiet, meek tone. "But it has also been one of the most uncomfortable."

Instead of asking Nadia to speak up, we moved closer to her. I could not interrupt her because I somehow knew that what she was about to say was of great importance. As she stood before me, I felt I was looking at a girl who was wise beyond her years. "As wonderful as all of you have been to me, I have still faced the same struggles here in Washington that I face at home," she said. "I also realize that some of you are afraid of me and my beliefs, but I understand. You only know the Islam that you hear about in the media, and don’t know the truth of our religion."

What she said was true. We knew the beliefs of Islamic terrorists-- that Americans are the ‘real enemies’ and that virgins await their arrival in heaven-- but we knew nothing about the beliefs of the many nonviolent Muslims throughout the world.

"Fear leads to ignorance," Nadia continued. "People rarely take the chance to get to know me and my family to see that we are really good people. They just give us nasty looks, call us names, or run away.

"But I want you all to know that we are really peaceful people." She became more impassioned with what she said, and as her voice grew louder, it cracked. "I want you to know that I had nothing to do with the monsters that have used my religion as an excuse to justify their lust for blood and death. What they did was despicable."

As I listened to Nadia, I felt something shake inside of me. I realized that although I knew she was a good person, I was uninformed about her beliefs. I had never taken a moment to think about the positive aspects of her religion. "When I see violence, I am just as hurt as you," Nadia said. Her face was still partially covered by the veil, but she looked at all of us, and I saw tears well up in her eyes. "I live in New Jersey. My family lost friends on September 11, and we mourned, too. We were just as affected."

<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 35px; text-align: justify;">There was a long silence in the room as Nadia covered her face with her hands and quietly sobbed into them. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but I knew she had more to say. When she moved her hands away from her face, she spoke to us all, but looked directly into my eyes.

<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 35px; text-align: justify;">"The truth is that I am just like all of you. I like the same music, I like the same television shows, and I even have the same career aspirations." A single tear slid down her cheek. "When you laugh at something, so do I. And when you cry, I do, too."

<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 35px; text-align: justify;">Nadia’s words were simple, but they meant so much to me. She dressed and spoke differently than anyone I had ever met, had a different set of beliefs, and grew up in a different part of the country. More importantly, she had been judged in ways I never had and hopefully never will be. But her clothing and creed did not define whom she really was-- a teenager growing up in America, just like me.

<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 35px; text-align: justify;">It took a speech to demonstrate our differences, but I no longer needed to remove Nadia’s veil to see our similarities.

© Philip Devitt

** Questions ** Part 1:
 * 1) How many students were at the conference?
 * 2) Why were they meeting on this last night?
 * 3) Why could the aurthor not pay attention to the speakers?
 * 4) Who was the girl?
 * 5) How was she dressed?
 * 6) How did she feel?

//<span style="color: #ca2121; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 75px;">Summary // <span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 65px; text-align: center;">in



<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Shrouded <span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Impassioned<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Despicable<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Sobbed<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Aspirations<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Creed

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<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Shrouded



<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Impassioned





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<span style="color: #ca2121; display: block; font-family: 'comic sans ms',cursive; font-size: 75px; text-align: center;">Creed



Cover or envelop so as to conceal from view