Humans

So, what does this stylish Roman matron have in common with me? (Hint: it has nothing to do with Latin.)

Like the woman upon whom this statue was based, I too cover my hair. Everyone knows this; the reasons are legion, but among them is not any sort of religious dictum. However, it is only extremely rarely that a passer-by doesn't assume that I'm from some sort of strict sect of Jainism or similar. Okay, I've never been called a Jan... but the short list is Mennonite, Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, Rastafarian, Catholic (i.e. a nun), and once an airline woman assumed that I had cancer and patted my hand sympathetically, which made me gag. So most of the time my thought is--- wow. I'm part of an international movement superseded by geography, religion, and culture. All around the world, people take a square of fabric and wrap it in some way around their head. Go, us!

But the rest of the time my thought is, Why is it so necessary to put a label on it? When people ask me what country I'm from, they seem disappointed when I answer that I'm an American. The question that never fails to follow is, "Then what are you?" to which I always reply "Human." Silly questions get unhelpful answers, and I'm not disposed toward giving a long explanation that would mostly boil down to: I like scarves. I like covering my hair. I like covering my hair with scarves.  There's more to it, of course, but I don't like discussing my personal philosophy on modesty and femininity with complete strangers. 

The "best" part undoubtedly has to be wearing a scarf AND being married to a sailor. My experiences on military bases beat, hands-down, anything I've ever encountered in the civilian world (including that creepy airline lady---- as if someone has to have a terminal illness to wear a scarf. I think even J-Lo wears scarves. Sure, she's got problems, but do we automatically go, "Ahh, pobrecita, it's cancer!")

To men in uniform, any woman wearing a scarf in any style, no matter what the rest of her clothes look like, is a hijabi. And is probably at that moment plotting their destruction. You may think this is an exaggeration, and it is, but not as much as you think. While some people go out of their way to be friendly (a sort of, "Listen, I'm cool; I can be in the military and not be xenophobic" reaction), others are clearly so uncomfortable with even standing next to me that they can't hide the unease in their voice and make all sorts of strange movements.  Hey, I'm just in line for my latte too, lieutenant.

But more than anything, I think it's a reflection of my country's deep insecurity with herself that a yard or so of cotton can put her citizen's teeth on edge, even more so when I try to explain that it has nothing to do with religion. Cheers to all my friends and family who have never said a word about it beyond, "Oh, I just love that scarf."  Thanks, I like it too.