My Hijab, My Niqab My Choice – Not Yours

It is delusional to think that as a woman, I’m only free if I strip down, show off, and serve a society obsessed with my body.

I chose the hijab—and sometimes the niqab—not out of fear, not because a man told me to, and certainly not because I was forced. No one told me to put it on, and no one gets to tell me to take it off. Like the majority of women who wear it—especially reverts like me—I made that choice with full awareness and full agency. And I’m not alone.

You say we’re oppressed?

Either we’re oppressed because we hide our bodies from the sick and perverse male world, or we’re ‘free’ because we expose ourselves to it? That’s not freedom. That’s a narrative. And it’s one I no longer serve.

What is actually delusional is believing that Western society has freed women. Let’s talk about real oppression:

Let’s talk about eating disorders bred by impossible beauty standards.

Let’s talk about women having to sexualize their bodies just to sell products, win attention, or feel validated.

Let’s talk about wage gaps, objectification, and being told our worth lies in how desirable we are to men.

Let’s talk about a society where girls are groomed by screens to believe they are never enough unless they perform.

You want to talk about freedom? That’s not it.

Covering isn’t about shame. It’s not about erasing myself. It’s about reclaiming my autonomy, my space, my peace. It’s not freedom to serve the perversions of the white European man—nor anyone else. That’s just a new kind of slavery.

Even within Islam, there are women who say I shouldn’t cover my face. And just as I accept their journey, they must accept mine. Islam doesn’t erase individuality. It embraces choice—with accountability.

So no—I’m not oppressed. I’m empowered. And the real tragedy is that the people shouting the loudest about saving me are the ones who can’t see the chains around their own necks.

This isn’t submission. This is strength.

This isn’t silence. This is resistance.

And this cloth on my head? It’s mine.

Not yours to question.

Not yours to remove.

Not yours to define.