A Love Story

"Jess I'm out of inspiration." I say.

Jess jogs alongside me at the gym wearing a long sleeved shirt and yoga pants. Her long brown hair is tied up and my curled hair is pinned into a bun.

"Well, you could do something like I do," Jess huffs and wipes a hand over her brow. "Well, what I like to do is go back to my roots, thinking about how Italian I am reminds me a good Italian girl should know how to cook and sew. It's somehow very charging to think that women in my family could do those things easily."

"But you are sewing. None of the women in my family really took to full time designing, I don't know how I can connect."

Jess huffs and slows down her jog, I slow down to keep our conversation going. Plus we've been running for a good 20 minutes, it's almost time for Pilates.

"Isn't there some place that's like home, you know, or you could go home."

Home, that was out of the question, at this point my mom would be so disappointed if she saw my hijab gone, my lack of loose clothes would horrify her.

"I don't have time to go all the way home Jess, what am I supposed to do?"

We stop and start stretching. Jess takes a deep sip of water and throws me her bottle. I sit down and drink and then stretch.

"Well.." Jess stops and pretends she hasn't said anything.

"Oh no no, you tell me, what?"

"You could go to a muskid?" Jess says.

I look at her a little shocked and confused.

Jess covers her face and starts babbling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty or whatever. I'm sorry! Just forget I said anything." I poke Jessica's hand.

"Jess, did you mean Musjid?" I crack a grin and Jess unveils her eyes to mine and we both laugh.

She nods.

It's Saturday afternoon and Jess and I are at my apartment. I just showered and changed out of my sweaty clothes. Jess is chilling on my bed doodling on my notepad.

"Okay let's go." I say pulling on my flats.

"Wait, just like that? Shouldn't we, wear scarves or something?" Jess wants to wear a scarf? I raise my eye brow and grin.

"If it means that much to you." I open my closet and pull out two scarfs and throw one to Jess.

At the Musjid the azan for Asr begins and Jess follows my lead as I take off my shoes and enter the women's side of the Musjid.

"What's he saying?" Jess says motioning to the man saying the azan in a beautiful voice.

I put my finger on my lip and she nods.

"He was reciting azan, that is the Call to Prayer. Basically he is calling people to success and saying that God is great."

Jess leans on the barrier between the men and the women's side. A few children try to climb over it unsuccessfully. Luckily their mother's grab them before they can get too far.

"That was absolutely beautiful." Jess says, her eyes brimming with tears.

After a few moments of looking around at the Musjid a second short azan is called for the prayer to begin. The beautiful arched entry ways and the domes inside with beautiful calligraphy written into the edge and the long rigged pillars and the white and green that flows so beautifully together makes me remember the times when I would go to the musjid with my family.

"Saina, why is everyone standing in rows? Are they going to pray? Am I, is it okay if I watch them pray?" I look at Jess, her brown hair peaking out from her scarf, her flowing cotton shirt and black straight leg jeans. She's sitting cross legged on the carpet with her hands on her lap.

"You can watch, the barrier is just here so men don't get distracted by women, and to make sure there is a clear space for women to pray. It's also helpful because then men can't see which women are praying unless they, like, stare back here. We don't have to pray when we are on our period and this way they'll never know."

"Wow, it's so interesting learning the specific details that you follow." Jessica smiles and stands up.

I stand and pray along with the Muslim women and Jess sits in the back to watch. Once prayer is finished we sit and raise our hands to make prayers.

It has been months since I prayed.

I pray for heaven, like I used to, and I pray for happiness and peace. An announcement comes on that there will be a session for twenty minutes for sisters.

The men leave the Musjid and the Imam, the leader of the Musjid, comes and sits beside the women's side so that we can hear him.

He begins speaking and I stare at the carpet, drawing hearts with my finger. I recall the time when I saw Riaz at an MSA Dinner. The Muslim Student Association had been doing a Welcome Back dinner and I didn't see Riaz until the end of the night. I was about to start praying and I saw him join the lines of guys in front of me so he was standing right in front of me. After we prayed the first part of the prayer I stayed sitting and I saw him go to the door to put his shoes back on, then he glanced at me and walked back and prayed a second non-obligatory prayer so he was standing in front of me again.

I looked around and noticed the empty spaces that he could have prayed and felt shy that he had chosen to show me that he prays, well sometimes at least.

"So, what about all that stuff in the media? How can women have so many rights if they are seen as oppressed." Jess says sitting with her legs crossed.

The leader of the musjid looks at her.

"Sister are you Muslim?"

Jessica's face turns red. Her scarf fallen to just sit around her neck.

"No, I'm not Muslim."

"You're very smart, and that is a very legitimate question you asked. I will answer your question in two parts. First the media gives only a one sided perspective, it is often not the Muslim women who are the ones speaking. Ask my wife if she is oppressed, she's sitting right here." The imam looks at a woman wearing a purple floral hijab and she has an air of confidence that has us all staring.

She shakes her head and laughs.

"If anything I'm the one whose oppressed. Do you know how much make up and shoes cost ukhti?" The imam pretends to put mascara on his eyes and we all laugh.

"What he makes is your money and what you make is your money. That's your right under Islam ladies." The imam's wife says and laughs.

He grins and nods his head while we all laugh.

"So for part one, the media does not give all sides of of this argument. They give their own biased view. Now for part two sister. Say, you have a beautiful diamond or gem. It is clear and has very good quality. So what would you do with it?"

"I'd take it to the bank or keep it in a vault. I'd probably throw a curtain over it for good measure." Jessica says.

"Right, you would want to protect it, and keep it out of harms way. Similarly, in Islam, God All Mighty wants to raise women's ranks and protect them. You women are our princesses, our gems. That is why they are told to cover."

"What if someone stops covering?" Jessica says and she keeps her eyes away from me.

How dare she! She's clearly talking about me.

I stand up and walk out of the Musjid. She can find her own way home.