Danielle Crittenden is the author of What our Mothers Didn't Tell Us and the recent Washington novel, Amanda Bright @ Home. She is married to former presidential (Bush ~ possible neo-con) speechwriter David Frum, and lives in D.C. with their three children. You can email her at
Danielle@daniellecrittenden.com.
She's wearing it for a week and I think she's in to the third dayAnyone heard of her. She seems to have started her adventure on the wrong premise; that the burka is used by muslims to oppress and limit women. Therefore, her objective seems to be to discover all the hidden ways that the ninja suit curtails a woman's freedom.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Quote:
Part Three: Why Don't You Just Take It Off?
My daily routine is probaby not so different from other at-home mothers. But
this routine rests on freedoms I never even considered before I tried going about my life wearing a burka. Actually, "freedoms" is too grandiose a word for the very ordinary assumptions and abilities a free woman takes for granted when planning her day. Try imagine doing everything you do, except covered by a pup tent without the poles.
Or just try to take a sip of coffee.
The first morning I descended to the kitchen looking like a black ninja--as my 5-year-old described it--I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I'd finally mastered how to pin my facemask and cloak to each other so they wouldn't slip all over the place. The length of time it had taken me to don the outfit was offset by the fact that I didn't have to dry (or even wash) my hair or puzzle over what to wear. Nor did I have to worry about make-up, except for a little concealer and mascara for my eyes--the only part of me visible. Score one for the ninja.
But then, as I poured a bowl of cereal, I reached for that first delicious sip of milky coffee and...there was this huge black napkin in the way of my mouth! So I lifted up the bottom of the napkin and guess what? I could no longer see my coffee cup. How on earth do Islamic women eat and drink? I assume by fumbling blindly, which is what I did.
I slowly maneuvered the cup towards the mask's concealed mouth hole and felt for its rim with my lips. Ah, the warm sensation of milky coffee...seeping into the fabric over my chin.
"Oh man." I dabbed at the mask with a paper napkin, which only produced more visual comedy for my teenage son, whose attention was briefly diverted from the sports pages.
"Why don't you just take it off?" he asked.
True, according to Islamic customs, I did not strictly have to wear this outfit in the confines of my home--so long as the only men present were related to me. However, my kitchen is in the process of being renovated: It's not a kitchen any more per se, but the set of a blown-up house in Baghdad (a perfect backdrop for what was quickly becoming my own Islamic reality show). Because of the renovation, "strange men" were coming through my house at all hours and without warning. The only place I could be truly "safe" from prying male eyes would be locked upstairs in my bedroom all day. That wasn't going to fly.
A short time later my builder John walked in and made for the coffee pot. I'd warned him the day before about the burka.
"Hi, John."
"Hey Danielle." He sat down at the breakfast table and took a long, unhindered sip of coffee.
I twirled around. "What do you think?"
John appraised me as he would a piece of drywall. "What I'm wondering is: Does this mean David gets more than one wife?"
"Ha ha," I replied. "I'm not sure he wants another wife. One is bad enough."
"Yeah." John nodded. "I guess it's one of those deals that sounds good when you're 18--not so good when you're going on 50."
I glanced miserably at my still half-full cup of coffee. Subsequent sips had not been more successful; I now smelled like a Starbucks.
With family out the door, it was time to head to a morning spin class.
* * *
A North American "healthy lifestyle" and Islam do not go together very well, at least if you're a woman. Or maybe its followers do not believe any North American lifestyle can be described as healthy. Either way, I was darned if I was going to miss my spin class.
I'd put on a pair of bike shorts under the black yoga pants I was wearing as part of my burka look. Only my fat white gym shoes looked conspicuous....
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