Chapter 9

“Salma, we are going to be late to this afternoon’s prayers!” Mama calls from the living room, and Salma quickly sneaks out of her parents’ bedroom.

“What are you wearing?” Mama asks. Salma has one of her mother’s hijabs on her shoulders. Baba got it for Mama in Damascus. It’s beautiful, covered in lovely branches and flowers, and Syrian-made. She lets the long shawl slip down her back like a superhero’s cape, with a knot tied at her throat.

“I like the colors of this shawl,” Salma says. “I want to wear it to the mosque today.”

“Like a hijab?” Mama asks. “Do you want me to wrap it around your head?”

Salma isn’t sure. She explains to Mama that she wants to wear the shawl but doesn’t want to cover all her hair. “It’s how I want to wear it today. Is that okay, Mama?”

The knot suddenly gives, and the shawl slips off of Salma’s back and down to the floor. Mama smiles. She kneels next to Salma and turns her around to face the large mirror in the hallway. Mama expertly ties it like a cape with a hood, using colorful pins. The green shawl fits Salma’s shoulders perfectly. Together, mother and daughter stand facing the mirror, both of

them in their hijab.

“I think it looks beautiful on you,” Mama wipes away a proud tear.

“Thank you, Mama.”

In the mosque, everyone comments on Salma’s beautiful outfit. All the women gather around her and congratulate her on wearing it. Even the women who were gossiping about her mother join the circle. They, too, examine Salma’s hijab.

“Are you going to wear the hijab properly one day, Salma?” one of these women asks.

“I will wear the hijab when I want. I think I can be whatever I want to be, and wear whatever I want to wear,” Salma announces proudly. “And that includes my swimsuit.”

The woman frowns at that answer. She is about to say something, but a loud laugh interrupts her.

“Look at how beautiful you look today, Salma,” Granny Donya says. “The hijab looks great the way it is, too.”

Salma rushes over to Granny Donya. The two hug joyfully. “Mama helped me put it on,” Salma says. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

“It looks great on you, Salma,” Granny Donya says. “And more importantly, I can tell you feel great in it, too.”

Mama joins them as the other women walk away. Granny Donya plays with Nora for a second, then blesses her with a Quranic prayer and wishes her a long and healthy life.

“What made you decide to wear the hijab today?” Granny Donya asks. Salma pauses, considering her words.

“I think it’s beautiful, and it makes me happy to wear it,” Salma says. “Maybe one day I will decide to cover all my hair. But for now, I just wanted to show all these women that my mama raised me right.”

“Oh, my little child,” Granny Donya is shocked. “I can’t believe you’d worry about these gossipy people.”

“I am sorry you heard us discuss this, Salma.” Mama squeezes Salma closer to her. “This is a conversation for grown-ups. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

Granny listens calmly then pulls Salma closer. “Have you thought about my question, Salma?” Granny whispers.

Salma nods. “I don’t feel good wearing the swimsuit, but I still want to be a swimming champion like Yusra Mardini.”

The voice of the Imam comes from downstairs, calling everyone to prepare for prayer. The women stand and line up next to one another. Granny Donya holds Salma’s hand as she stands up, then points to all the women in the mosque.

“Look at all these women’s hijabs, Salma,” Granny Donya says. “Some cover most of their hair, others cover all of their hair and their neck. Some wear a black or a brown burka that covers them head to toe, while others wear colorful hijabs like you and your mama.”

Salma looks at the sea of women around her. The many hijabs in their many colors look so beautiful: like the sparkles of light when water is pouring out of a spring in the sunshine. She smiles as she sees how different everyone’s hijab is, yet they are all moving in the same way, preparing for their prayers.

“I hear that there are also many ways you can wear your swimsuit,” Granny Donya continues. “There is the diving suit, with short sleeves for the arms and short pants for the legs. There is the burkini, which covers all of your body including your hair. There are many options out there for you.”

“Wow!” Salma says. “I’ve never heard of any of these! How do you know all these things, Granny?”

“I might be old, but I do know how to search the Internet!” Granny Donya laughs. “I just needed my reading glasses and my son’s phone.”

Salma smiles. Maybe one of these swimsuits could be the perfect fit for her. Maybe she will finally be able to feel totally comfortable at the pool. She is so excited to explore her options.

“You are a good swimmer, Salma.” Mama stands on Salma’s other side. “We will support you in following your dream.”

In that moment, standing between Mama and Granny, Salma feels as if the whole world can challenge her, and still she will win the race. Salma has never felt as powerful and capable as she feels right now.

The prayer starts; Salma raises her hands next to her green hijab and whispers the name of Allah.