It was all about what I want when I was wearing hijab, but it wasn’t when I decided to took it of?

I don’t know. I really don’t know how to start my life’s story.

My story is not a salvation story. It’s a story of a little girl’s dreams shattered with a hammer. That girl never had the chance to collect pieces of her dreams. She just watch the pieces hurting her and cried. And this girl is still crying. But I have to say this; I can feel that I’m not crying alone.

I was living my life without knowing anything when I was a little girl. Everything was normal to me. I wasn’t allowed to wear short, and also tshirt after 11 years old. I have a very clear memory; one of my friend came to school show and she was wearing a short. I showed her to my mum and told “it looks nice, why can’t I wear this?” My mum looked at me furiously and told “she doesn’t obey her religion’s rules and you won’t as well? It doesn’t look nice.” I couldn’t say anything to her. In fact, it was the first time that my freedom was restricted.

Days fly by. My mum was sometimes telling me to wear hijab for practice. My dad was fully supporting this as well. I wore hijab with my friend’s encouragement when I was in 6th grade. My family didn’t make any comments and told me that they will let me not to wear it until high school. I was happy but when I was in 7th grade, my friends was going to toilet and making models with their hair and wearing tshirts so I felt bad about this. I started thinking “I wish I could wait until high school, I wih I could think more about this before I wore hijab.” I restricted my freedom with my own hands and this time this restriction was to my hair as well. I think about all these for approximately 3 months. I decided not to wear hijab. I told my mum about this when she was cooking in the kitchen. I asked her “Mum, what happens if I don’t wear hijab?” She reprehend me a lot. I couldn’t make it. I was hearing my mum and dad was talking about me when I was in bed at night.

The day after, I told my dad about my wish but he told me “this is not about what you want.” It was about what I want when I was wearing hijab, but it wasn’t when I decided to took it off?

But it didn’t give up, I was talking persistently. This time they bought me books about hijab. I read them. I thought maybe they change my mind. But no, nothing changed. My dad started yelling at me and I was scared, so I kept quiet. One day again I told my mum and she said “go talk to your dad.” But I couldn’t talk. Because I knew if told him, he was gonna hurt me. So I’m quiet. Still quiet. Bu when I was outside and in front of the mirror, I hate myself. I hate everything.

To my family; was it worth to gain my hatred? It wasn’t.

I am outside but my hair is in prison. I can’t feel the wind in my hair. I’m still paying for my mistakes and their mistakes. They couldn’t stand my voice for just a couple days but now I’m paying for a lifetime about being silent.

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