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One thing I learned early on about spawning in an East African Muslim household as a girl is that you are raised alongside the concept of shame from the moment you start suckling your mother’s breast. My siblings are very different from one another. Some of us are outspoken about everything, while some of us are withdrawn. I’m the latter. I never went to any of my parents or siblings when I had a problem. I also learned very early on not to go to any of them when something excited me, not because I was afraid of them ruining the thing that brought me joy. One of the reasons why I haven’t gone to them in times of joy is I just didn’t want to share anything with people who looked at me in a funny way after sharing something with them that made me happy.
I remember the very first and last time someone pulled my hijab off at school, I went home like and pretended like everything was ok. I was probably six or seven years old. I remember thinking: “Umulkhair, don’t even bother telling hooyo about this. You know she’s going to make a huge problem out of this, and you don’t want any more problems at school.” From a very young age. I knew my mother’s personality and character well. I knew that she was a bold and courageous and an outspoken woman who was going to raise hell at the principal’s office if she ever caught wind of what happened to me. To this day, no one in my family knows about that incident, and if they find out now, I don’t really care about it anymore. It happened; I processed it all on my own; and now I’m at a secure spot where I won’t be shaken by what anyone has to think or say about it.
The reason why that event comes to mind is because I have a very sneaky feeling that shame and my withdrawn nature has something to do with me not doing anything for myself. Like… ever. This reminds me of a psychological term known as “locus of control.” A person either has an internal locus of control, or an external locus of control. I think I’m now realizing that I have always needed an external source to push me to do things. Or, at least the majority of my motivation tended to lean more towards external sources. I never looked inwards for validation, and if I did, it came from an imaginary place. I never gave myself the chance to not only explore, but also validate and root for my own personal beliefs or interests.
I’m starting to question if I really am a quiet and reserved person or if I’ve been performing these traits all along. What if I just didn’t want to disappoint people and went along with these labels they sticked on me from the very beginning?