Under That Scarf (Editing)

1. Caramel Macchiato

Sunday, 7:30pm

Jamila stands before a full length mirror trying to fathom why she's here. She's been trying on dress after dress despite the fact that she doesn't need one. Yet her mother insisted that buying a gown was highly necessary for reasons only God is aware of.

Sighing, she tries on the last dress her mother commanded her to wear. The long black gown that has black beads intricately designed on the chest trailing down the sleeves. This one is better than the others her mother forced her into because this isn't tight.

Jamila smiles at the mirror for the first time this evening. This is the one. Although she's very subservient towards her parents she isn't the kind of girl you want to mess with, her olive skin, big brown eyes, sharp cheekbones and pretty lips- that smirk mischievously almost always- may fool you but know that she's anything but foolish.

"Jami, hurry up! Baba is coming to pick us up."

"Coming." She gazes at the gown one last time, patting it around the stomach area in admiration and finally takes it off. "No more shopping for an entire year now," she mumbles to herself as she puts on her floral printed summer dress and fixes her hijab. She pulls the curtain aside and walks out of the fitting room with a smile on her face.

"Which one do you like?" Her mother asks eagerly with a twinkle in her eye.

"The black one, it's a perfect fit." She hands the dress to her mother.

"What about the red one?"

"That was too tight." Jamila shudders as she recalls trying to bend down while wearing it. It was hideous.

"Ay Jamila!" Her mother huffs in annoyance. "You always fuss when we go shopping." Her mother takes the black dress and hastens to the counter to pay for the item. Jamila walks behind her mother, shaking her head. I thought weddings are a joyous occasion, she thinks to herself. "Your own cousin is getting married and you're not bothered." Jamila grimaces as the lady at the cashier raises an eyebrow at her and gives her a pitiful look. Oh do you have an Arab mom who lectures you in public too?

"Mom can we please not do this here." She mutters under her breath.

"Do what? What am I doing? I'm buying a dress and I'm talking to my daughter." Jamila takes the Forever 21 bag and sighs. Talking? Well this is a one sided talk.

Jamila feels like people spend more time on their wedding than on their marriage. Her cousin Aaliya is getting married in two weeks and between applying for jobs at different clinics, attending interviews and responding to her cousin's frantic messages about getting prepared for the big day- it's safe to say that Jamila is scarred for life. Intimidated even.

Her mother- Aminah- on the other hand is a force to be reckoned with. Having been born and raised in Gaza, Palestine she knows what it's like to be tested. To leave the one place you call home and start from scratch in a foreign land where you have to adapt and learn new things, to assimilate and grow. To build a life for yourself and for your future children. Jamila was raised with strong figures like her and Ahmad-her father- to face the world head on.

If you feel daunted and afraid at the thought of anything, you face it head on. It could be college, bullies, a driving exam, racists, bigots, marriage and the list goes on, you face it. You don't put your head down. You never put your head down. You look the challenge in the eye and deal with it. This is what was drilled into her as a child and now as an adult.

This was the gist of the lecture she received the night before by her beloved mother when she made a comment about being afraid of committing to a stranger for a husband. Oh what a lecture that was. Jamila has a sour look on her face at the thought of it.