A smile in passing, an “Assalamu ‘alaykum” when our paths would cross and an occasional “whats-up-with-you?” was the limit of our contact.

Maimuna stood there quietly memorizing me as I pinned my hijab beneath my chin and wrapped a piece of the blue material around my neck and tied it into a knot on the side. She left the room while I gathered diapers and sweaters to put in the diaper bag; we were getting ready to go visit a friend that evening.

I recently came across an article on Salah. The author was an older working woman, looking very glamorous in the picture accompanying the article. She did not wear a hijab. I was skeptical, as I looked at the picture. This woman, who clearly wasn’t dressed very ‘Islamically’ was going to tell me about Salah? Me, a hijabi?

It’s a sad unfortunate sight. I’ll be going about my usual day when suddenly I see a hint of familiarity. The hesitation comes first, but the second time I look, I’m reassured. My mind isn’t playing tricks on me. I know that girl. I recognize her face. But she looks so different; almost like a stranger without that soft fabric enveloping her head. As our eyes meet, I smile guiltily like I’ve been prying, but we converse as if nothing has changed.

The first thing I noticed about Evita was her shining face, with a pretty purple hijab firmly in place. As she pored over her book, trying to understand the glorious words of the Quran during our Tafseer class, I made a mental note to catch up with her after class. Evita had a very interesting story to tell, and in this email interview with me, she talks about her inspirational journey to taking the shahadah.