Labels seem to give satisfaction. We accept the category to which we are supposed to belong as a satisfying explanation of life. We are worshippers of words and labels; we never seem to go beyond the symbol, to comprehend the worth of the symbol.
Do you know what people think when they see me, when they see my hijab? Which is the first thing they see? They think I have to wear it because I’m forced to, not because I want to. And if I say I want to, then I’m brainwashed, because I can’t form my own opinions. We’re talking about freedom of religion and so many other freedoms here in Norway, but wearing an extra article of clothing is wrong? And people.. think we get married out of nowhere, and that there are all these arranged marriages and that I’ll be forcibly married to my cousin tomorrow! Do you know what people do when Elias and I walk down the street? People spit after him because they think he’s oppressing me! Elias! He doesn’t even want me to wear the hijab, because he doesn’t want me to get hate. Do you know how fucking tiring it is walking out the door every day knowing it’s another day where you have to prove to a whole country that you’re not oppressed?