Description

In the mosque the distinctions are clear. Women are wrapped in long clothes, heads covered in thick clothes patterned with distinct designs. Their hands are clean and free of polish, cut short to remain hygienic. The girls are huddled in circles, heads bent over holy texts and readings. There is silent muttering and mumbling of words, topics surrounding marriage, cleanliness, and modesty. Upstairs, I hear the boys running around, fumbling with their toys and games. Up there, there is no order or routine. No expected image or wardrobe that comes to mind. They run around all night, pulling on each other’s shorts and t-shirts with no consequences. 

 

In the mosque it’s easy to tell gender apart; a girl is just someone with a scarf wrapped around her head. Outside, it becomes more muddled and less distinct. Women wear their hair long and shorts that show their legs. I get confused on how a woman should look -- how should I dress? My mother has the answer. Long, loose pants accompanied with shirts that cover my whole back. Hair is always up and I am not supposed to play with it in public. In school I get asked why I don’t wear shorts or skirts in the dead heat of summer. The answer? I don’t truly know. In the mosque, it is easy. All the girls wear long dresses and headscarves. But outside, when my classmates are wearing something and I am raised to think and behave a different way, I don’t truly understand what a woman should look like. How I should present myself in a way that satisfies both my muslim parents, but also my curious classmates. The problem with gender that I have is how I should represent myself, as an identifying-female. How gender is more than just what I wear or how I act.