Hijab symbolizes dignity, modesty, self-respect, and is a character that makes a woman in Muslim society. However, Tisa Lasarati, an inborn Muslim, grew up uncovering her hair. Here she shares her story.
It has been almost a decade since Lasarati, a 25-year-old student, decided to take off her headscarf. Born in a strict Muslim family in Indonesia, as any other girls reaching her puberty, she was told to put on a Hijab. “We were taught to manifest an inner commitment to our God and to protect ourselves physically and mentally. Covering allows our inner beauty to shine, instead of superficial qualities like your hairstyles, your earrings”, she said. During secondary school, Lasarati started learning more about the world outside Indonesia through a photography society. She met friends who travelled to many other non-Muslim countries. They showed her images of a different lifestyle from what she experienced in Surabaya. Nevertheless, it was not the exposure to Westernization that changed her belief in Hijab. At the age of 14, Lasarati made her first abroad trip to America in an exchange program, “for the first time, I had the feeling that I was excluded”, she recalled.
Growing through discrimination
Do you wear it to sleep? Is it uncomfortable? Do you feel hot? These questions from schoolmates were normal to Lasarati during a year in the States. Apart from culture shocks, she started feeling obviously the gaze people gave her for her difference. However, what she experienced was even worse. “I don’t know, they might be kids back then, so they said things unconsciously, or they were just really cruel by nature. Some naughty boys in class pointed at me, saying things like: She doesn't need to wash her hair, she is bald, her scarf looks like a tablecloth, or her family is terrorists. Then they would laugh at it as a joke. I was really hurt, and I cried a lot, but I didn’t dare to tell my parents, they would send me home immediately. They always seemed to be a bit overprotective to me”, she said.
Fear of being excluded pressured her relentlessly. She admitted that she could never
join the conversations with other girls about hairstyles, clothes, or how to dress up for a school prom. "I was born with this religion, it is a part of me. But people just didn’t understand. I began blaming the choice that my parents gave me. This scarf, this belief, it made me, but it hurt me too”, she shared.
Defining identity
At the age of 16, Lasarati moved to Singapore under a government scholarship. While Singapore is an interracial country, and Muslim is respected as one of the national religions, the fear of discrimination and obsession with bullying sometimes crept into her mind. “I guess, the mental breakdown during the time in the States completely changed my personality. I became more insecure in friendships”, she added.
A year after entering Junior College (JC), she met Jammie, who brought her out of her shell and became the most trustworthy friend. “She shared my troubles and lent me a shoulder. She gave me joys and filled in my loneliness. I had no insecurity when I was with her. Though I knew it was wrong, I started developing a special feeling for Jammie, something I thought I should only have with the opposite gender, because I'm a girl, and I'm a Muslim", she said.
Shock, denial, self-hatred, and suicidal - Lasarati experienced thoroughly the stages of emotional instability. "I dated a boy in JC, but I knew I was also attracted to girls. When I started being aware of LGBT, I realized there was a term for people like me, yes, I am bisexual", she stated. Due to the extreme prejudice of Islamic societies towards homosexuality, Lasarati knew that once she acknowledged her sexual orientation, it might also mean to put an end to her life. How could her parents and her social circle accept her? Would she be able to heal this insurmountable rift in her family?
"But I just couldn't resist anymore. Until when will I have to continue suffering like there is always something wrong with me? I don't want to carry that thought all my life. As much as I was honest to my sexual orientation, I wanted people to see my real identity."
In the summer of 17, Lasarati decided to unveil her head. The courage to take off a Hijab is far more than to put it on. Going against the society's belief, the representation of traditions, and most importantly, her family is the hardest step she has ever taken. Inevitably, her parents disapproved and her father even claimed to disown his daughter. Luckily, after all, family bond and her sincerity gradually convinced her parents to accept her choice. "Choosing to unwrap doesn't mean I deny my religion or give up on my values. It's just a way to declare myself to the world that I deserve to be who I am."
A new life's chapter
In a recent self-retreat trip, she visited El Badi Palace in Marrakech, Morocco. "There was a huge difference in lifestyle: women did not wear Hijab, and both men and women dressed just like modern people in general (in tight-fitting jeans and shirts, and some had their nails polished, hair coloured auburn blonde), it's really refreshing to see Muslims in such ways", she noted.
Nowadays, Tisa spends time preparing for her Master's degree in International Relations in Barcelona next year. The young girl has enthusiastically participated in various youth leadership summits in different countries. She is also an inspiring activist for gender equality and Muslim LGBT community. "It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our ability", she said.
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