Hijab under the disco lights

My first experience dancing in a nightclub was back in 1993. It was at the Blue Moon, Equatorial Penang. I was 18. And I was still wearing my hijab.

My friend Lynda whom I shared a dorm with at YWCA Penang while I was studying at a private college on the island, was moving to the US and all the girls from the same floor decided to throw her a farewell party.

I remember feeling uncomfortable when everyone agreed to have the party at a nightclub.

"You girls go ahead. I think I shall not join the party," I said.

"Why are you not coming dear?" asked Dorothy, a retired clerk, one of the eldest at YWCA at the time.

"I don’t think I should go to a nightclub. I feel a nightclub would be a wrong place for someone wearing a ‘tudung’ like me," I explained.

"Do you want to come?" asked Catherine, a 50-something senior nurse at a private hospital who lived in one of the single rooms next to my dorm.

“I’d very much like to because I have never been to one. I am just afraid I would be out of place and people would stare…” I said.

“Don’t be silly, Fa! Nobody cares about your 'tudung',” said Dorothy, brushing my shoulders.

I still remember the last hour before we left our dorm for Blue Moon that evening, I was taking extra time putting on my hijab, looking at myself on the mirror, when Lynda stood next to me.

"You look nice," she smiled.

"I still feel awkward. Everyone here is either in jeans, skirts or shorts. I am the only one in baju kurung and ‘tudung’. I would look like a clown stepping into a nightclub. People may even laugh at me," I frowned.

“Do you want to wear anything else? A blouse or a dress maybe? It still goes well with your ‘tudung’,” the other ladies suggested.

But everyone at my dorm knew that I always wear baju kurungand owned nothing but baju kurung.

“Hey girl,” Dorothy placed both her palms on my cheek. "You look like you. And there is no reason for you to feel embarrassed for not looking like everyone else."

Those simple words of encouragement from the ladies empowered me that night.

Testing boundaries

Stepping into Blue Moon that day was a great experience for me. For the first time in my life, my friends taught me to ignore others and focus on myself and what I wanted to do. And as a young eighteen-year-old, all I wanted to do was dance.

Needless to say, there were plenty of eyebrows raised that night, not to mention some cynical laughter as I stepped into the dance floor. But my girlfriends came to my rescue – one by one, they stepped under the disco lights and surrounded the shy young Muslim girl whom I once used to be.

Reminiscing this moment, I remember oh-so-clearly the faces of everyone from YWCA who were by my side that night. Chinese, Indian and Eurasian ladies from all walks of life, young and old, dancing away to the tunes of Abba’s "Dancing Queen". Our different background, status, race nor faith did not matter, for no one judged the other. We were just a bunch of girls having fun.

It was truly an unforgettable chapter of my life – mostly because it was my first attempt doing something out of the norm. And following the nightclub experience, I found myself breaking more norms, especially those deemed socially unacceptable – the fact that I was a Muslim, female and in Islamic attire never stopped me from testing my boundaries from that point onwards.

Whenever I share my story of dancing in a hijab under the disco lights, many of my non-Muslim friends of recent times usually feel excited.

“Wow, you've got guts!”

“Well done!”

“We need more open-minded Muslims like you!”

So they say.

Oddly, I find the same people who encouraged me as a female Muslim to embrace life and be liberated, ending up ridiculing other Muslims simply because of their ‘Islamic’ attire.

Not too long ago, a Muslim female celebrity and entrepreneur launched her hijab collection in Zouk, a nightclub in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. While many Muslims condemned her for her lack of respect towards Islam, I found many of my non-Muslim friends making a big joke out of the viral video showing the celebrity and other Muslim females in hijab having a good time under the disco ball.

Clear hypocrisy

Honestly, reading the negative comments flooding social media was bitter. With all the talk about the selection of attire being one’s personal choice and how a person’s attire doesn’t define them, I was gobsmacked at the attitude of my many non-Muslim friends who seem to be quite hypocritical.

If stopping women in hijab from working at hotel receptions is called discrimination, then isn't it clear what we should call mocking and bashing women in hijab from dancing at a nightclub?

Likewise, if we easily find ourselves criticising some government department’s actions of forcing women in skirts to cover up their legs with a sarong on the basis that people should be allowed to dress in a manner they deem fit as long as it is decent, why then do we laugh, mock and joke about women wearing hijab at nightclubs?

Hypocritical, no?

For what it’s worth, I am happy that more Muslim women today are bold enough to step out of the boundaries they have been traditionally raised with in our culture. This is how we break the walls built around us and build bridges across society.

In case my old friends from YWCA Penang (1992-1993) are reading this article, I would like to thank them for making me take the first step towards liberation. I would not be where I am today without you.

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FA ABDUL is a passionate storyteller, a growing media trainer, an aspiring playwright, a regular director, a struggling producer, a self-acclaimed photographer, an expert Facebooker, a lazy blogger, a part-time queen and a full-time vainpot. -FMT