I still cover my hair, but I wish I never had.

I don’t want this, I don’t even know why I cover my hair anymore.

I used to think this was just how it was supposed to be, this was the right thing to do, and I shouldn’t have thought otherwise.

Thus I covered my hair gladly, willingly. But I don’t really care about right or wrong anymore. I care about this style of clothing that’s forced on me, and I grow angrier and more resentful by the day. It gets on my nerves that we don’t teach young girls anything but cover up their entire bodies. It feels like nothing else matters as long as we are wholly veiled. Why is it praised to wear pitch black, baggy clothing? What does it mean to behave “modestly”?

It is unimaginable to enjoy swimming in those long garments when even taking a walk by the sea is an uneasy and unenjoyable thing. Wear a bikini or burkini, I don’t care about that either, it’s the obligation to do, which drives me crazy. Why does it make you happy that I wear concealing clothes when nobody cares about how you dress?

I’m not happy, I’m not genuine, I’m constrained and fake. If I didn’t cover my hair, I still wouldn’t do my hair and makeup because that’s not who I am. But let people see me when they look at me. Let me think and act guided by my own moral compass, not by the way I’m seen by others. Let me be who I am, be free, be me. I’m not asking for a lot.

No, I still cover my hair, but I wish I never had. Because I don’t have enough of my life left to start again anymore.

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