Text: On the hijab; moving comfortably in the world

Image:Souq al-Hamidiyya, Damascus

The first woman I befriended who wore a hijab was Houda, an Algerian migrant to Australia. I had great respect for her, for her poise, good-humour and intelligence. But I wished she'd take off her hijab.

Her look reminded me so much of a nun's, and I had always considered nuns as another species, people, but people with one foot in a holier realm. In the presence of nuns, I imagined you had to be demure like them, avoid profane or even commonplace utterances. (I had never met a nun.) I didn't want Houda to be stereotyped or stigmatized; I wanted her to be a full participant in her newly adopted country, to be assured of employment in her profession. So I thought she should remove her hijab, appear less nun-like.

For some years after, I was obsessed with the questions many non-Muslims have regarding the hijab. Initially I imagined there were just one or two basic reasons women wore them: their country's law or religion required it and/or their fathers, brothers, and husbands demanded it.

A stay in Syria led me to acknowledge there are myriad reasons women choose to wear a hijab - i.e. in countries where they have the freedom to choose, such as Syria and Australia.

And time and exposure to the hijab has meant I can now see beyond the scarf to the person, often more immediately than I see beyond mascara, applied make-up and a low neck-line to the person. Yesterday, a woman and her daughter, both wearing hijabs, were waiting beside me at a bus-stop. I wanted to say to them, "I see you".**

If I had been able to experience life through Houda's eyes or heart, I suspect I would have realised that she moved at least as freely and comfortably in suburban Melbourne as I did. And, as a result of her education, her being fluent in three languages, and her exposure to radically different social and political worlds, she possibly dealt with life's challenges with much more aplomb.