All her life, the women in her family—her mother, her aunties, her cousin Leila—had worn the hijab. For them, it was as natural as breathing. But Rarah saw it as a riddle. A beautiful, complicated, terrifying riddle.
She’d heard the whispers in the hammam, the steam curling around the adult women’s words. “She’s too young.” “Her heart isn’t ready.” “It’s a choice, not a chain.” rarah hijab
The second try was worse. The scarf slipped, revealing a chunk of her unruly black curls. She looked like a poorly wrapped gift. All her life, the women in her family—her