A Quote by Linda Sarsour

I'm Muslim. I'm Palestinian. I'm a woman in a hijab. — © Linda Sarsour
I'm Muslim. I'm Palestinian. I'm a woman in a hijab.
I get to say I was alive when the first Palestinian woman went to Congress. I was alive when the first Somali woman, in a hijab, who's black and Muslim - she's literally an immigrant, a refugee, black and Muslim and a woman and progressive.
I was born in 1965. When I grew up in India, there was no expectation that a good Muslim woman wore the headscarf. But what happened when I came here to the U.S. and the emergence of the Saudi and Iranian theologies in the world is that the headscarf became the hijab and the hijab is now the idea that is synonymous with headscarf.
We heard from a professor at an evangelical college who wore a hijab in solidarity with Muslim women. Now we have a different perspective. Asra Nomani co-wrote an op-ed in The Washington Post titled in part "As Muslim Women, We Actually Ask You Not To Wear The Hijab."
When you write about a Muslim woman, like I did with my previous novels - 'Minaret', for example, which is about a woman who starts to wear the hijab - it sets all the alarm bells ringing.
Flying while Muslim is nerve-racking in itself. Every time I prepare to fly, I have to make sure the anxiety I feel from all the stares I get from the moment I walk into the airport doesn't show on my face. This is what every woman in a hijab or bearded Muslim man experiences. But we are not alone: Sikh men who wear a turban experience the same anxiety because they encounter Islamophobia by dint of being perceived as Muslim.
To the Muslim woman, the hijab provides a sense of empowerment. It is a personal decision to dress modestly according to the command of a genderless Creator; to assert pride in self, and embrace one's faith openly, with independence and courageous conviction.
I think it's dangerous to look at every Muslim woman the same and to assume that every experience within the religion is the same, meaning that there are going to be strong and assertive women that are Muslim. There's going to be a more passive woman who just so happens to be a Muslim. There may be a funny, big-personality woman and she's Muslim.
As a Muslim woman, I'm all too familiar with the media shorthand for 'Muslim' and 'woman' equaling Covered in Black Muslim Woman. She's seen, never heard. Visible only in her invisibility under that black burka, niqab, chador, etc.
The hijab or a variation of the word shows up eight times in the Quran. And it never means headscarf. And so what's happened is that the identity of a Muslim woman especially is being equated to this piece of cloth on her head. And in that ideology there's a very fundamental assumption that people need to think very deeply about, which is do you believe that a woman is too sexy for her hair?
There is a misconception that young Muslim women are oppressed. That simply isn't the case. I choose to dress modestly and choose to cover my hair with a hijab; not all Muslim women make that choice, and that's okay. We are all different!
Wearing hijab made you know that I was Muslim.
As an activist, organizer, Palestinian, and a Muslim-American woman, I have faced many obstacles in the industry I work in. I often have to fight for my seat and representation for the communities I represent.
I found that a whole series of people opposed me simply on the grounds that I was a woman. The clerics took to the mosque saying that Pakistan had thrown itself outside the Muslim world and the Muslim umar by voting for a woman, that a woman had usurped a man's place in the Islamic society.
I'm a Palestinian-Muslim, but I'm also a progressive.
When I watch a TV show I wouldn't notice if someone was Muslim or wearing a hijab. It's nice to be on a show where your skin colour or religion is incidental.
Let’s not ask Barbara Walters about how Muslim women feel. Let’s not ask Tom Brokaw how Muslim women feel. Let’s not ask CNN, ABC, FOX, The London Times, or the Australia Times. Let’s not ask non-Muslims how Muslim women feel, how they live, what are their principles, and what are their challenges. If you want to be fair, ask a Muslim woman. Ask my wife. Ask my mother. Ask a Muslim woman who knows her religion, who has a relationship with her Creator, who is stable in her society, understands her responsibilities. Ask her.
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