This summer, five UPrep students heard good news from The New York Times (NYT): they were named finalists in the newspaper’s second annual Student Open Letters Contest. Out of 9,946 entries from teenagers all over the world, the judges chose 10 winners, 13 runners-up, 40 honorable mentions, and 139 additional finalists. Senior Umu A. was awarded honorable mention and seniors Henry B., Sonya C. Avi P., and Larissa R. were selected as finalists. In the second semester of American Voices, students compose a letter following the contest guidelines as one of their major projects for the term and many of them entered the contest.

According to the NYT, “an open letter is a published letter of protest or appeal usually addressed to an individual, group or institution but intended for the general public.” Umu wrote her letter to UPrep students. She said other students often ask her why she wears the hijab, a Muslim head covering worn by girls and women. Umu says she didn’t fully understand her full answer for wearing it until growing older. “It definitely did take me time to come up with these words and to tell the truth,” Umu said. “I used to say I just wear it because it’s a part of my religion, but I felt like there was more to it. I’m a hijabi: someone whose scarf carries faith and my story is one in a world that often tries to define me otherwise.” 

She found out about the honorable mention designation one morning this summer. “I was so shocked,” Umu said. “For me, this writing was something I was really proud of, but I didn’t think I would be in the NYT.”

Below is Umu’s letter, which she titled "Wrapped in Faith: A Story They Never Tried to Understand.”

Dear UPrep Students Who Only See the Fabric,

You’ve asked, “Why do you wear the hijab?” So here is my heartfelt truth, from me to you.

The first time I wrapped the scarf … scratch that, I mean hijab, felt like stepping into a dream I had waited so long to live. My mother always said, “to love the hijab means to love yourself.” At the time, I thought it was simple: wrap it, wear it, and everything was complete. I didn’t understand what the hijab truly was, and I just wanted to continue a tradition crafted across generations.

I wore my sister’s pink beaded hijab, and it glistened with every step I took until I reached the sparkles of my classroom, where the sparkle dimmed. Why did their eyes steal my light? The whispers weren’t loud, but they were loud enough. I ran straight to the bathroom, trying to escape from the spotlight I never asked for. And without thinking, I took off my hijab.

Then I saw her in the reflection of the mirror. And for a second, while staring hard, recognizing the hurt girl there, everything stopped. Why did I let them strip me of who I was? Then, my mother’s words spun around me, allowing me to breathe deeply and wrap my hijab again, this time with meaning: loving myself.

Walking back to the classroom, I held my head high and knew I was wrapped in my faith; it was me. I realized that the issue was never the hijab, but it was people’s ignorance. Islam makes it clear that wearing the hijab is a personal choice, and as the Quran states, “There is no compulsion in religion” (Surah Al-Baqara, 2:256). The decision doesn’t come from coercion, and people don’t seem to understand this. When Meliha Ural says, “To the outside world, this visible symbol of Islam is a looming danger; an unacceptable force. It’s a rebellion against Western values.” But why should a choice of faith be seen as a threat? Isn’t it a reflection of who I am? I tell you this so you never let outside perspectives flood the truth.

I move through spaces where my hijab stands out. And at UPrep, being one of the only hijabis at this primarily white institution, I’ve had to constantly prove that my hijab doesn’t limit me; it strengthens me. 

So, you ask why I didn’t answer your question in just a couple of words? But how could I genuinely explain the hijab that helps you understand my perspective without ever showing you the layers beneath it? They yell, “Take it off”, thinking it’s a chain, a cry for help. They stare, whisper, and pull, but their opinions don’t touch me anymore. My hijab is mine, and it has been since the day I decided to put on my pink beaded hijab.

Sincerely,

The UPrep Hijabi

READ MORE ABOUT HOW MEMBERS OF OUR COMMUNITY LEAD A LIFE OF LEARNING HERE.