feminism

I walked down the street in my long white dress and inch-long, black hair one afternoon, and truck drivers whistled and shouted obscenities at me.

I felt defeated. I had just stepped out of a hair salon. I had cut my hair short, telling the hairdresser to trim it as she would a guy's.

The discussion at the Islam Awareness Week exhibition started out nicely enough. We talked about women's rights, domestic violence, sexual abuse, heavy, heavy issues. It was interesting, she was a feminist, and I, a Muslim woman. But we connected.