The poor thing

I will never see this young woman again so I'm going for it.  The young woman to whom I refer was, unfortunately for her, my seat-mate on the flight to Montreal yesterday and I let her have it.  "Where were you born?" I asked, presuming it was not Canada.  "Edmonton," she replied.  Edmonton!?  "Why do you have to cover yourself?  This is Canada and you're a Canadian," I said.

She gave me the usual "modesty" speech, which never holds water.  She also told me she feels half Canadian and half Afghani.  "Put a period after the word 'Canadian' and lose the 'half'," I said.  "I realize you don't agree with it, but I am sure you respect my choice to wear it," she tried.  "Actually, I don't, I think it's shameful that you feel so inferior that you have to cover your hair."  She was speechless.  "We are all God and Allah's children and all equal in this world," I avowed.  Neither God nor Allah make mistakes when they create us.  It is the men in your culture who insist women cover themselves, I went on.  It's about sex and control.  Do you think if you reveal your hair someone will rape you in the public thoroughfare?  That doesn't happen in Canada -- at least not in broad daylight with a ton of people around, which is precisely where you wear the hijab.   

Hey, I'm part Irish and part Mohawk, but I am Canadian.  I don't go around telling people about my background because we're all immigrants in this beautiful country. 

It just got worse.  She kept going back to the modesty thing, but I kept at her, albeit it as nicely as I could.  You get the idea.  She told me her parents had given her the choice to convert and cover herself.  Yeah, right.  "So do any of your sisters or your mother go bareheaded?"  Well, of course not.  But she kept insisting it was her choice.  I told her that she was drastically limiting her options in Canada, be it boyfriends or jobs.

"I have daughters and there is no way I would permit them to cover their heads in shame and inferiority," I stated.  This poor thing was off to Afghanistan to "help" women.  Whaaaat???  "So, are you going to buy a few of them tickets out of there?" I asked.  "Because that's the only way you can help them."  She kept running out of answers.

I ended our happy chat with advice:  "Get off in Montreal, turn around and go back to your real life in Edmonton."  She confessed that her father would never take her back.  All I can hope is that he doesn't kill her.  She is nineteen years old.