The Word

A Day in the Life of a Blind Brooklyn Athlete and Rapper

A Day in the Life of Jahron Black

Brooklyn local Jahron Black relaxes in his backyard before heading to the New York Association for Blind Athlete’s goalball practice, a sports game specially crafted for the visually impaired. As the president of this organization and a visually impaired man himself, Black prides himself in the awareness he raises for people like him. “This was a sport that was founded over 20 years ago after World War II, to help the veterans cope with losing their vision,” said Black.

When he was born, Black was diagnosed with Optic Nerve Hypoplasia, a medical condition in which some optic nerve axons in the eyes do not develop fully. As a child, he fell in love with sports and after getting involved in NYABA, he has worked towards inspiring all kids with visual impairments to be active. “A lot of times parents are afraid for their child, and what happens is that the child ends up being sheltered. They become socially awkward and they do not excel in public,” said Black. “Just because you are visually impaired, does not mean you have other cognitive disabilities.”

Black carefully sets up the 9 x 18 meter court with wire, to assist the visually impaired players with touching the court boundaries. He reaches for the 4-pound ball in the back of the gymnasium, which is filled with bells in its center to assist players with hearing when the ball is volleyed back and forth. “I always call it a mix of bowling and soccer,” said Black.

In the game, the court is broken down into three sections: the left wing, the right wing, and the center wing. Although all players are visually impaired, some have different levels of blindness. To make the game completely fair, all players are blindfolded.

Along with being a player in the goalball league, Jahron works to teach people with vision about the game. Pictured here is Jahron teaching two New York Cares volunteers with sight how to play.

Apart from being involved in the NYABA, Jahron works on telling his story through rapping, which he works on from his bedroom in Brooklyn. “It is therapeutic for me. I think music is a gateway into the soul, and I pride myself for the life I live to be a connection point to all walks of life. It can change many lives,” said Black.

LGBTQ Asylum Seekers Look For a New Life in the US

International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. RainbowFLASH

Alex needed a place to escape. With only one year left in his University studies, he could no longer stand the threats and physical violence he faced in his home country, even if that meant leaving his family, friends, and entire life in Russia behind.

Now, just a few years later, Alex, who did not want to use his full name, lives in Chicago, Illinois, where he works as a waiter and waits anxiously to hear the results of his asylum case. He fears that if has to return to Russia, he’s likely to be killed all because of his sexual orientation.

In over 70 countries around the world, it is illegal to be gay. Other countries, such as Russia, have laws that discriminate against and/or promote violence towards the LGBTQ community. Fear of persecution in these countries due to one’s sexual or gender orientation could be considered cause to seek asylum in the US.

While Alex submitted his asylum application in September 2015, he did not get called for his interview until November 2017. Now over a year later, he is still waiting to hear the results of his case. In the meantime, Alex is able to live and work in the US legally, but the future of his stay is uncertain.

“I feel lost right now, and nervous at the same time,” said Alex. “I’m sure one day I will open my mailbox and I will see the letter from USCIS but at the same time, you never know when it will happen.”

If his asylum claim is rejected, Alex and his lawyer will have to appeal the case, which could take another few years. If his appeal is denied, he must return to Russia, where he will be locked out of entering the US.

“I just want to create a family in the future,” said Alex. “Right now, I cannot even date anybody because I don’t know anything about tomorrow. I don’t want to get close to people, because what if tomorrow I’m sent home.”

Alex’s lawyer, Timothy Knudsen, worked with him to put together a case to show that he would be in danger if he were to return to Russia.

“If [an asylum client] says, hey, on this date, around this day, I got beat up at this subways stop in this city, I’ve gotta map out that subways stop, I’ve got to show their route to work,” said Knudsen. “It’s really small details. We’ve just got to prove to the US immigration office that it actually happened.”

Knudsen said that showing that the LGBTQ asylum seekers whom he has worked with will face danger if they return home is frighteningly easy.

“There’s been a lot of physical abuse in these cases,” said Knudson. “Usually they’ve been beaten up, when they showed their identity in some way, or threatened.”

In the past few months, the Trump administration has rescinded asylum protections granted to the victims of domestic violence. Knudson says this could indirectly harm some LGBTQ applicants, since domestic violence issues are often a part of their cases. But, the administration has yet to take any direct action to limit the number of LGBTQ applicants accepted into the US.

Another obstacle for asylum seekers can be the act of getting out of their native countries in the first place. Rainbow Railroad is a non profit organization that works to get LGBTQ people out of countries where they face persecution.

“Many of the people that we work with, they only come to us as a last minute thing,” said Eduardo Hernandez, a development officer for Rainbow Railroad. “They want to stay in their country and work for change, and be an advocate for change in their own country. They come to us when this is the end of the line for them.”

While getting those at risk out of their countries is the most urgent goal of Rainbow Railroad, ultimately the organization hopes to see a safer world for LGBTQ people, no matter where they are.

“We have a responsibility to think of LGBTQ people as a global community,” said Philip Wong, the director of development at Rainbow Railroad. “And as we talk about how to improve society, how to improve the world, one area LGBTQ people can really focus on is other queer folk. It’s really a simple equation.”

 

NYU students show little interest in supporting student athletes

The closing of NYU Coles Sports and Recreation Center on campus, has taken student athletics events off campus.

It is a brisk Friday night in December at New York University. Despite the low temperature outside, students are buzzing around campus. Some are headed to Bobst Library to begin preparing for their finals. Others are walking to Weinstein dining hall to grab a quick bite for dinner. But very few students are making the 35-minute trek to watch their school’s ice hockey team play at Chelsea Piers Sky Rink.

Even with a population of over 60,000 students, NYU struggles to get students to attend the school’s athletic events. With sports teams that play at facilities that are far from NYU’s campus, athletics are not a central feature of NYU and often fall on the back burner. The NYU community’s lack of interest in sporting events has impacted both the student-athletes and the overall sense of community at NYU.

NYU’s Senior Associate Director of Athletics, Janice Quinn, said that one of the main reasons why games are poorly attended is because they are so far away. NYU’s Coles Sports and Recreation Center was demolished in 2016, as part of a renovation project, and many of NYU’s athletic fields are located outside of Manhattan.

“During the Coles era, we had really terrific attendance at Men’s and Women’s basketball games, volleyball games, wrestling matches, and events that actually took place at the facility, at Coles,” said Quinn. “Traditionally, our outdoor sports have always struggled a little bit because all of those facilities are off campus.”

As a result, the morale of student athletes has taken a hit. Olivia Mould, a senior on NYU’s softball team said that she thinks this bleak turnout has an effect on her performance on the field.

“The only fans we have are parents, the occasional friends, and the student staff at Palladium.” said Mould. “If we actually had fans, just knowing that people care, makes you feel better and makes you push yourself that extra little bit.”

NYU sophomore cross country and track athlete, Oliver Jacob, said as a runner, fan support would really help to enhance his performance.

“In track it helps not necessarily to know who’s cheering for you, but to hear a lot of cheering gets the  adrenaline pumping,” said Jacob.

Quinn said the low attendance has also impacted the overall sense of community at NYU. Through her 37 years of involvement with NYU’s athletics department, beginning as a student athlete on the women’s basketball team in 1981, Quinn has seen a missed opportunity to establish a community through sports.

“Most people clamor and will report feeling less a part of a community, maybe than they would on other campuses,” said Quinn.“I think the NYU community is missing the boat on a real opportunity to build a community on campus through sports.”

Despite the current low level interest surrounding NYU’s athletic teams, Quinn believes that there is still the potential for sports to generate spirit, and create a greater sense of camaraderie and unity on campus.

“Athletics are a well-kept secret of the tremendous spirit of NYU. When other people come to athletic events, they feel a sense of pride in their own connection to NYU,” said Quinn. “Athletics can be serving the broader community by providing an opportunity for people to get together, free, in a wholesome, positive, healthy, wellness-generated atmosphere and feel good about what they are doing.”

 

Uncertainty plagues DACA college students

Arizona Students protesting on behalf of the DACA.

With exams, papers, and presentations looming, Carlos Alvarez, 20, sat tucked away in his Dallas, Texas, community college library away from all of the noise. Notes, pens, and the odd Starbucks coffee cup could be seen strewn across the table, making Alvarez’s workspace identical to all of those around him.

But Alvarez is very different from his classmates. While they could look forward to prestigious internships and imagine their lives after college, Alvarez’s future is uncertain. He is a recipient of  Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals or DACA , which means Alvarez is undocumented.

With DACA, Alvarez is able to attend college and also have a job. But on Sept. 5, 2017 the Trump administration terminated the DACA program. According to the Immigration Legal Resource Center,  the fate of the DACA program is being litigated in four different parts of the country at this time. The most recent update came on Aug. 8, 2018 when a Texas Federal judge heard a case in which several states aim to shut down the program entirely.

“I want to become a citizen,” said Alvarez. “This is the only country I have ever known, but there is no citizenship path with DACA, only renewal.”

According to the Migration Policy Institute, 1.4 million Mexican immigrants made their way to Texas from 2012-2016. Alvarez’s family immigrated to Texas in 1999.

“My family left Mexico for economic reasons,” said Alvarez. “We didn’t walk through a desert or anything. We just took a bus.”

Today, Alvarez’s trip to the U.S. is not what is seen as the norm. Many media outlets such as CNN have reported families being separated for long periods of time. As well as some migrants being teargassed on Nov. 25, according to Reuters.

“Everyday since October 26th, immigration authorities have released 20 to 30 families into San Diego tagged with ankle bracelets and without any resources or way to reach their final destination,” said Sandy Young a spokesperson for San Diego Rapid Response Network.

According to SDRRN, this drop and go tactic by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE is a new policy adopted by the organization. This change occurred after ICE ended its “safe release” program which ensured that families had somewhere to go after entering the U.S.

Even if these migrants made it to the U.S. seemingly unscathed, the better life for their children some were hoping for, may not be as attainable as they had originally thought.

“It’s pretty much impossible for me to become a citizen under DACA,” said Alvarez. “I have a job, I’m in college, I’ve never committed a crime, and yet the only country I have ever known isn’t giving me anything in return.”

On top of not being able to leave the country, DACA recipients cannot commit major crimes or else they will be deported from the U.S.

“This invokes a lot of fear in people,” said Alvarez. “We are stuck in this limbo stage and one step out of line and you lose everything.”

Including being worried about his own future, Alvarez continued to express concern for those attempting to immigrate to the U.S. today from Latin American countries.

“There must be major issues for them to come all this way,” said Alvarez. “Clinging all this way to hope for a better tomorrow. Imagine having to going through all that adversity and finding out there is nothing you can do.”

In addition to fearing for the safety of migrants on their journey to a better future, another concern of his was how the Trump administration’s current policies for dealing with migrants is exacerbating the issue of migrant treatment once they are allowed into the country.

“The easiest way to get people to stay in their own country is by providing aide so they don’t feel like they have to leave their country,” said Isabella Venturini, 20, a Bolivian born U.S. Citizen. “Trump shouldn’t be gassing children, but I also think the media romanticizes the migration process of these people.”

While tear gassing migrants can be seen as a step too far, Trump’s anti-immigrant rhetoric has also been noted as being detrimental to the validity of migrants asylum claims.

“He is generalizing entire countries,” said Alvarez. “ Calling Mexicans rapists isn’t fair. They’re the ones taking jobs no one else wants.”  

 

As fare hike looms, subway riders are fed up

A crowded New York City subway car. A common site for commuters.

The 6 Lexington Avenue Local subway cars rattled into the 110th street station, the rusted brakes shrieking loudly. The rats on the rail lines squirmed and scurried away and the piles of trash on the tracks disappeared as the train rolled in. The train is late as usual. The cars are all packed tightly with New Yorkers heading uptown, knuckles white on the hand poles as the failing train lurched violently and continued, still screeching.

With the subway system falling apart, the MTA has proposed raising the fare from $2.75 to $3 by March 2019 to secure the funding desperately needed for repairs and maintenance. But the proposal has been met with harsh criticism from commuters who are already fed up with transit in the city.

“I think it’s expensive as is,”  said Johnathan Blake. “I’m sure there’s a lot of people who won’t be able to pay that. It’s tough.”

The effects of this increase would hit the city’s commuters the hardest as they travel to and from work everyday. Crystal Fajardo, 28, of the Bronx, is one of these people.

“[I use the subway] pretty much everyday,” Fajardo said. “I’m a part time student in the Bronx and I’m also a teacher here in Manhattan so I have no choice but to choose a weekly pass. That much to ride with homeless people and danger in the subway and dirty trains and rats? I think that’s unrealistic for commuters that live in the city. That’s wack. For someone who comes home from work everyday, that a little high.”

The proposal by the MTA is just one addition to a seemingly never ending series of increases.

“In ‘69, when I started at NYU, the fare was 16 cents,” said Alex Grant, 70, of the Bronx.

To Grant, it is wrong to put the responsibility of paying for the much needed service on individual riders. Instead, he would prefer to see the state take more control.

“What they’re doing is putting the burden on the ridership. And it shouldn’t be on the ridership,” Grant said. “The state is better at that. Leaning on the ridership to fix the built up problems of infrastructure and disinvestment is really stupid. What you’re going to have is people throwing molotov cocktails in the subway. Believe me, down the line they’re going to. The burden of fixing the subway should fall on the government.”

Many New Yorkers have turned away from the subway to taxis or services like Uber, worsening the problem of traffic congestion in the city. For the second year in a row, the subway ridership has dropped.

“Traffic is out of control,” Blake said. “It is contributing to pollution, which I’m not for.”

Still, many New Yorkers prefer the subway for their commute rather than facing the traffic.

“It’s a little expensive to come with the transit,” Fajardo said. “But there’s a lot less stress compared with traffic, having to sit there for hours to come in and out of the city.”

Facing either subway or the gridlock of traffic, many New Yorkers will have to “take it as it is” and pay the high fares come March.

“The way New York is you have no choice but to use transportation and bite the bullet,” Fajardo said. “Unless we have a big petition about it. But many may have to stop their jobs because of the fare.”

 

College transfer students get a second chance to follow their dreams

Gianna Robertson, 21, transferred from Montgomery Community College to The New School’s Parsons School of Design. She majors in Interior Architecture Photo by Casey Dawson

As the fall school semester comes to an end once again, frantic high school seniors are submitting college applications, crossing their fingers, and dreaming of getting in to their dream schools. What they don’t know is that come next year, they might be going through the same stressful process all over again as transfer students.

In a 2015 study of the 3.6 million first-time students who entered college in the fall of 2008, over a third transferred to a different institution at least once in the next six years, most (50.7 percent) within the first two years. In a New York Times article from earlier this year, executive director Janet Marling of the National Institute for the Study of Transfer Students at the University of North Georgia, said that transfer students are receiving the most positive attention from higher education than ever before.

Gianna Robertson, an Interior Architecture major at The New School, was one of those students.

Working on her final project on one of the various paint-stained work tables at the studio on East 13th Street, Robertson recalled the disillusionment she felt while pursuing acting and singing after graduating from high school and moving to California.

“In that moment in LA, I was just like, I really don’t think I should do this with my life and I have to change something,” said Robertson. “I have to do something that means something.”

She decided to move back to her home state of Pennsylvania to attend community college, where she would take art classes, get her GPA up, and then transfer to a four-year institution.

According to a recent article from NPR, transfer students are an established pool for universities to recruit more diverse students, especially students from community colleges.

Going to community college, I was happy about it because I was happy to get something started,” said Robertson. “I know that I’m doing this so I can be where I want to be.”

Like Robertson, almost a quarter of all students who started at a community college transferred to a four-year institution within six years.

“I wish somebody had told me [in high school], ‘don’t feel judged about going to community college first and then figuring it out.’”

Robertson said she wouldn’t change anything about her past, and is glad for the experiences she gained in order to get her to where she is now.

“It doesn’t matter how old you are. It matters what you’re doing right now,” said Robertson.

Transferring can be a second chance in the competitive world of college admissions. While some schools transfer acceptance rates are much lower than regular admission, others are favorable to transfer students. Vanderbilt’s freshman admission rate in the 2016 – 2017 school year was 10.9 percent, but the rate for transfers was almost 30 percent.

Currie Larrimer is a sophomore at Vanderbilt University, but she attended Southwestern University in Texas for her freshman year  

“I wanted to go to Vanderbilt originally, but I didn’t get in out of high school,” said Larrimer. “But, I really wanted to go straight to college even if it wasn’t the place I wanted to go.”

Larrimer attended the Liberal Arts and Science Academy (LASA), a magnet high school in Austin, Texas. Ranked at #16 in the nation for Best High Schools and #5 in Texas by US News, she said the competitive environment contributed to the pressure she felt her senior year.

“I didn’t really ever think about transferring,” said Larrimer. “When I was first getting into colleges and I wasn’t really getting into anywhere that I wanted to go…I was very reluctant to [transfer] because I was like, people will think I’m stupid.”

Students who don’t receive that coveted acceptance letter from their first or even second choices can feel like there are no other options for them.

“When I didn’t get into Vanderbilt the first time I literally skipped class for three days because I was so upset,” said Larrimer. “I was like, ‘oh, I literally don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have anywhere to go.’ But then it all worked out fine.”

This fall, Princeton University reinstated it’s transfer program, admitting the first class of transfer students since 1990. This move, and other colleges increasing openness to transfer students, was reportedly motivated by the desire for students with more diverse backgrounds. This means lower-income families, students from community colleges, and students with military backgrounds.

Larrimer’s college decision process was also limited financially.

“One of the reasons I had to go to Southwestern the first year was because that was the only school that my family could afford out of the three schools I got into,” said Larrimer.

Vanderbilt meets 100 percent of need-based financial aid for transfers, so now Larrimer is able to go to her dream school and afford it.

Transferring can bring hope and opportunities for students who otherwise wouldn’t have them.

“It was comforting because I knew that I had a way out,” said Larrimer. “I really just had to make it through that year and then I’d be going somewhere else that was hopefully better for me.”

Larrimer said while both times the college application process was stressful, confusing, and seemingly nonsensical in decision making, she’s glad she took advantage of applying as a transfer.

“This whole system is kind of messed up,” said Larrimer. “So you can’t let it convince you that you’re not worth going there, or that you’re not worth their education. If you know what you want to do and you work hard for it you’ll get where you want to be eventually.”

 

The Reality of the Emotional Support Animal System

Noah DeFranceschi has hay and chewed-up cardboard under his dorm bed. When he buys items, he leaves the boxes on the floor if they do not have too much tape or ink on them. This habitat below his bed is for his emotional support animal (ESA), Chai, a brown and white bunny who loves to chew.

DeFranceschi adopted Chai in July 2018 to help with his mental health: he has been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

“If I feel like really like out of it and I don’t feel like getting out of bed, I have to push myself,” DeFranceschi said and continued, “Then I’ll get up and feed him, and then I’ll end up eating too. So it makes me feel responsible for someone else, and then I end up being more responsible for myself.”

Chai helps DeFranceschi’s depression by also making him feel less lonely and sad. When he is feeling anxious or having flashbacks that are associated with his PTSD, he pets the rabbit slowly as a way of calming himself and grounding himself in the moment.

Photo Courtesy of Noah Defranceschi. Chai, Noah Defranceschi’s emotional support animal, lays in his bed in Defranceschi’s dorm room.

Photo Courtesy of Noah Defranceschi. Chai, Noah Defranceschi’s emotional support animal, lays in his bed in Defranceschi’s dorm room.

According to Rebecca Stone, a licensed mental health counselor in Florida who trains other professionals on how to use ESAs as treatment, the number of people with ESAs has increased significantly recently.

Along with this increase, comes attention — and abuse. On June 4, 2017, the large dog sitting next to Marlin Jackson on a Delta flight lunged at his face, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Jackson required 28 stitches and has visible scars. The dog’s owner said the Labrador mix was an emotional support dog, according to the Washington Post.

The exact number of ESAs is unknown; no entity keeps track of these animals, which has caused confusion. According to a Jan. 19 statement, Delta made its requirements for ESAs stricter because it is a “disservice to customers who have real and documented needs” to allow people to take advantage of loose regulations.

These new regulations were a long time coming. The airlines recently announced that it flew 150 percent more ESAs in 2017 than in 2015. Since 2016, Delta has had an “84 percent increase in reported animal incidents,” including urination, defecation, and biting.

This increase in incidents related to ESAs is not limited to Delta. In January 2018, a woman tried to board a United Airlines flight with a peacock she claimed was an ESA, but the airline refused because of the bird’s size, prompting the creation of a stricter policy to avoid case-by-case decisions in the future, according to the New York Times.

The lack of regulation regarding ESAs is in stark contrast to service animals. According to the Americans with Disabilities Act, a service animal is a dog who is trained to perform tasks that benefit someone with a disability, including pulling a wheelchair or pressing an elevator button. The key differences between these systems are the intense and strict training that service animals receive and the tighter regulations and requirements that leave less area for interpretation.

Stone explained that this abuse of the ESA system is in part because the system still exists in a “gray area.” She said that determining whether someone qualifies for an ESA is subjective and is decided on an individual basis according to their mental health professional’s judgment.

Although no strict set of criteria exists, Stone said that mental health professionals follow three steps in order to recommend an ESA: identify that the person has a diagnosis, confirm that “symptoms or effects of the diagnosis significantly impact the person’s daily life, and agree that the animal will alleviate at least one of these symptoms.

This “gray area” is what people take advantage of to abuse the system. Oftentimes, people try to have their pet fly for free or allow the animal to live in no-pet or pet-restricted housing, according to Stone, because these are rights afforded to ESAs by the law.

“A cottage industry sprung up in service of low-level fraud,” wrote New York Times Op-Ed Columnist David Leonhardt. “For $30 on Amazon, you can buy a bright-red dog vest that reads, EMOTIONAL SUPPORT. With a quick web search, you can find a therapist to diagnose you long-distance.”

Megan Jeter, 19, lives with her ESA Pheobe, a grey cat that Jeter adopted recently to help with her anxiety and depression. She supports stricter requirements and advocates for one central regulation system so that she and others with ESAs do not have to feel “invalidated” or have to explain themselves.

DeFranceschi,19, feels that many people assume that everyone with an ESA is exploiting the system for their own benefit because this is all that they have experienced, which “makes it so much harder to have them take you seriously.”

No Sleep ‘Till Midterms

ASTORIA DISPATCH

Astoria, Queens — On the bustling street corner of Ditmars Boulevard and 31st Street, one young woman stands out among the crowd. 26-year-old, Hind Sophia, is spotted wearing a bright blue “Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez” t-shirt. Running on just a few hours of sleep, she still manages to flash a bright smile and hold a rambunctious puppy in her arms.

The pre-med, New York University alum, has taken to the streets to head the Ocasio campaign. “She’s only 28!” Hind tells of Ocasio’s success. “She’s barely older than me. And she’s going to be elected to serve in Congress.”

When Hind is not working on the Ocasio campaign, she works in a cancer research lab. “My parents wanted me to be a doctor,” she said. “Doctors help individuals. I went into research because I wanted to help a larger group of people.”

Hind got her start in the political world during Obama’s presidential campaign when she bravely canvassed door-to-door in her home state of Pennsylvania. Hind says her goal “is to work in Public Policy because that helps the largest group of people of all.”

On the gloomy Friday morning leading up to the election, Hind came prepared. Her canvas bag was overflowing with Ocasio posters, fliers, and pins in both English and Spanish.

Hundreds of people pass by, many keeping their heads down and headphones in, some refusing to even acknowledge her presence. But Hind stood on that corner, unwavering, with a smile on her face and a flyer in her hand. “It’s exhausting,” she said. “But the one person who does stop, makes this worth it.”

A mother pushing her son in a stroller stopped to tell Hind about her family traditions. “We love voting days,” she said. “Our whole family goes to vote, and then we celebrate with burgers.”

Some passerbyers, on the other hand, are not so friendly with their approach. “Communist!” A white, middle-aged man yelled to Hind from across the street. Still, the smile on her face remains. She took a deep breath, and prepared for battle. The two of them talked for quite some time before shaking hands and going their separate ways. “We need people to vote. That’s first and foremost. Who they choose to vote for comes second and I’m glad he’s voting.”  She let out a heavy sigh, exhausted from hours of rejection, and then announced, “I need to refuel. Let’s grab some coffee.”

A now fully-caffeinated Hind once again took to the streets to canvass for Ocasio, this time visiting shops and restaurants along 31st Street, asking owners and managers to put up Ocasio posters in windows. Once again, Hind was met with more “no’s” then “yes’,” but nevertheless, the smile did not leave her face. She trudged on, stopping at nothing to find the one store that would agree to put her poster in the window. “Look it’s my poster!” she exclaimed as she passed by an Ocasio poster hanging outside of a Liquor store.

“I am Muslim. I am a woman. And I represent America.” Hind says. “This is why I’m out here. I am the future.”

Under and Over the Hijab

Image courtesy of Masoumeh Mohammadkhani.

While in the fourth grade 12 years ago, Masoumeh Mohammadkhani was told to remove her hijab for the singing of the Pledge of Allegiance. One of her classmates confused the religious veil for a hat.

While Mohammadkhani quickly clarified that her hijab was not a hat, she was nevertheless shocked by this comment.

“It was the first time I realized that it could become a problem,” Mohammadkhani, a 21-year-old NYU psychology major from Sayreville, N.J., said.

While all references to her hijab were not as explicit as her classmate’s, Mohammadkhani noticed subtle biases in her daily life.

During a typical trip to the mall she was often ignored by sales people, which she attributes to them either not wanting to offend her by suggesting clothing she would not have felt comfortable wearing, or to a genuine bias against Islam.

“It was 50/50,” she said. “You could tell.”

She faced the same isolation on sports teams. Her coaches never directly discouraged Mohammadkhani from dressing modestly, however, her needs were not accommodated like those of the other student athletes.

“Everyone had the standard uniform and I had to go buy extra Under Armour. It didn’t come out of the athletic department’s pocket,” she said and continued, “I had to buy everything myself.”

She never anticipated this type of discrimination when her mother inspired her to wear the hijab and conservative clothing at nine-years-old.

“I really loved my mom, and she was always such a source of inspiration because I thought she was so smart and she was my role model…I wanted to wear one so I could be just like her,” Mohammadkhani said.

Although she primarily wore the hijab to emulate her mother, Mohammadkhani’s parents made sure that their daughter was aware of the veil’s religious significance, which she happily embraced.

Hijab literally means “barrier” or “veil,” and is a way for Islamic women to demonstrate their reverence to God. Verse 24:30 of The Qur’an instructs Muslim women to “guard their modesty; and that they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what must ordinarily appear thereof…”

Although this verse does not specifically mention women’s hair, some Islamic women do interpret the line to mean that their heads require covering as a sign of respect for themselves and others.

While Mohammadkhani understood the religious context behind her hijab, she said that she was less aware of how people’s perception of her would change and, at the time, was just excited to imitate her mother.

“I think I was really unaware of societal standards,” Mohammadkhani said.

However, two years after she began wearing the hijab, Mohammadkhani began to reevaluate her religious beliefs.

As an increasingly independent 11-year-old, she no longer felt obligated to demonstrate her piety through her hijab. Mohammadkhani said she realized she could still be a faithful Muslim despite what she wore.

“I focused on a different part of [Islam] than dressing modestly,” she said and continued, “Being good to others, doing what you can to progress human society and helping out those in need.”

Although she was inclined to stop wearing the hijab as she matured and her religious beliefs evolved, Mohammadkhani continued to wear one until she was 14-years-old. She did not want to be questioned by kids at school for the sudden change. More importantly, she did not want to disappoint her family.

It wasn’t until she transferred to a high school in another town that she finally chose to remove the hijab and dress in a more typically American fashion.

Despite her personal decision to abandon the hijab, she respects American-Muslim girls who choose to cover their hair.

“I admire how much strength they have because it’s not the easiest thing,” she said.

Through her firsthand experience, Mohammadkhani knows how much the hijab is judged and misunderstood, especially in Western cultures.

She also finds it ironic that the West views the hijab as a form of oppression.

“It’s funny, because in [Muslim] cultures they think it’s oppressive that half-naked women are used in advertisements for things that are completely unrelated, like burgers,” she said.

She believes that it would be equally oppressive to encourage a Muslim woman who personally chooses to wear a hijab to dress in a more provocative, modernized fashion simply because of Western misconception.

Seven years after this transition, Mohammadkhani, who currently sports platinum blonde hair styled into an edgy bob, still does not wear the hijab.

However, her dual perspective has reinforced her belief that the hijab should be accepted, despite individual differences in religious affiliation and levels of devotion.