Chapter 5: Two Scarves, One Struggle
611 Words
We didn’t need to talk too much.
Maryam and I just… understood each other.
We both wore the hijab. We both stayed away from gossip. We both carried our books close and our voices low. When others ran to sit with the popular girls during break, we found a quiet spot under a tree near the fence.
Sometimes we ate in silence.
Other times we talked about the topics in class.
But most times, we talked about Allah.
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“Do You Ever Feel Tired?”
One day, while we were eating under the tree, Maryam suddenly asked, “Do you ever feel tired of it all?”
I looked at her. “Tired of what?”
She didn’t look at me. She was peeling her boiled egg slowly. “The stares. The whispers. The fact that no matter how good we are, they still look at us like we’re not enough.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I feel it too.”
She finally looked up and said, “But wallahi, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
And just like that, she reminded me that we were both struggling… but still standing.
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Stronger Together
After Maryam joined the class, things got a little better.
Not because the mockers disappeared — no, they didn’t.
But because I wasn’t standing alone anymore.
Whenever someone said something annoying, Maryam would say something smart back. Not loud, not rude — just sharp and clean. She had a way of speaking that left people speechless.
And when she defended me in front of the whole class one day, I knew she wasn’t just a classmate — she was a friend.
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The Day They Crossed the Line
One afternoon during break, two girls walked up to us while we were sitting under our usual tree.
One of them, Ada, said, “You people think you’re better than us, right?”
We looked at her, surprised.
Maryam asked calmly, “Why would you say that?”
“Because you both always carry face like you’re too holy. Like this hijab makes you queens.”
I opened my mouth, but Maryam spoke first.
“Hijab doesn’t make us better. It reminds us to be better.”
Ada rolled her eyes. “Abeg. Keep deceiving yourselves.”
Maryam didn’t reply. She turned to me and said softly, “Let’s go.”
We stood up and left.
That day, I learned something from her — you don’t always need to fight. Sometimes, leaving is the answer.
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A Glimpse of Respect
Over time, things slowly began to change.
Some girls started asking Maryam for help with IRS.
One boy asked me if I could help him with spelling during English prep.
Even some teachers began to call on us more often.
We weren’t the centre of attention, and that was fine.
But now, they didn’t laugh as much. They didn’t whisper as loudly.
A few even greeted us first.
It wasn’t perfect — but it was progress.
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Our Promise
One Friday, after school, Maryam and I waited behind to pray.
When we finished, I looked at her and said, “I’m really glad you came.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
Then she added, “Let’s make a promise.”
“What kind of promise?”
“That no matter what happens — no matter what they say — we’ll never let them change who we are.”
I nodded. “In sha Allah.”
We sealed it with a smile, two soft Assalamu Alaikums, and the quiet sound of our slippers as we walked out of the school gate together.
- Writer
