“Why are you wearing a hijab, sister? You look so pretty without it. It just limits your beauty, that’s all. I mean, I would never wear it.” I said five years back.

Growing up, I had always considered the hijab as an element that limits your beauty. I had never imagined myself wearing a hijab ever - yet somehow it became a part of my story.

It’s like those times when you really need someone to hold on to you, and you look around and find so many people who were there, yet were absent. Those times when you want someone to talk to you, and you look at the world, but you forget about your faith.

I remember hating on modesty because I wasn’t told about modesty properly. But as I grew up, I started to realize what it actually means.

It was a dark, cloudy night, and I was crying in my room. I wanted to scream. I wanted to be heard. But when I looked around, there was no one. I was all alone. I called my friend, saying, “Please talk to me. I am anxious.” She was there, yet it felt like no one truly understood me.

That’s when I took my prayer mat and willingly prayed namaz for the first time. I prostrated in front of the Creator and poured my heart out. I thought I’d feel judged for only turning to my faith during hard times, but in that quiet moment, I felt a kind of peace and comfort I hadn’t experienced before.

I broke into tears thinking about that feeling - how I had never done that before in my life, but the first time I did, I found peace. Since then, I tried to be more intentional with my faith. 

That’s when I decided to wear a hijab. It was two weeks before Ramzan. I decided to cover my hair from the first of Ramzan. It was a very difficult decision for me.

Why? Because no one in my family ever expected me to wear hijab, like they thought I was too into fashion to ever wear a hijab. I was afraid: what would people say? Would they dislike me? Would they consider me boring? Would my friends treat me differently?

But then I realized: I was doing this for my own personal reasons, so why do others have a say in my choices? 

It’s been three weeks since I became a hijabi, and it feels wonderful. Yes, some people reacted strangely or judged me, calling me names or making assumptions, but that didn’t matter. At the end of the day, there were also those who supported me and treated me with love and tenderness.

So, for anyone reading this: if you want to wear hijab, go for it. Do it because it feels right for you, not for anyone else. And if you choose not to, that doesn’t make you any less worthy. What truly matters is your heart, your intentions, and how you treat others.

Lastly, to all the people who believe that just because they cover themselves, they are better than those who don’t—let me remind you: you shouldn’t consider yourself superior over others for any reason. Modesty is not just reflected in covering yourself. It’s the character that matters. Even though a person may cover themselves entirely, if he or she does not have a good character and heart, then they can never be called modest.

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