The Rape of a Hijabi

I was 30 years old and divorcing my second husband when I was raped. We were married for five years. I learned his beliefs which are not my own nor necessarily that of any decent human during that time. I had prepared myself for a lot as a Hijabi. I understood the consequences. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what country you’re in or from, certain twisted beliefs persist.
We had watched an Egyptian movie of an abused housewife and her husband. She had to run out quickly at night and got in her car. Two cars were waiting for her and ran into her. She was still bloodied, dazed and confused as they dragged her from the car and gang raped her.
She tried to cover up the crime because it would mean three talaq at once, which is the worst kind of divorce. It is said to shame a low woman.
I’m a feminist woman who happened to get very hurt and rebounded with a Muslim asshole. My apologies, sisters. I turned to him and said, “Do they seriously do this?” He didn’t just say yes. He expounded on how great it was.
Just to be crystal clear because language was an issue, I gave an example of myself. I’m at the grocery store one night after work and when I return to my car, I’m assaulted and raped. They overpowered me and gagged me. I couldn’t do anything. I drive home in a daze to phone police, what do you as my husband do?
His answer came calmly and easily as if ordering soup. I would divorce you immediately and tell authorities how you wronged me.
Yes, women. Groan in agony. Scream at the screen, sisters. We understand. I should’ve ran. I’m the dumb ass White girl in the horror movie that you assume is going to die.
Well, this was my third divorce from my husband so we couldn’t marry each other even if we wanted to. Yes, ladies, you can’t be lied to by that cheating ass scumbag after the third time. Your bedroom eyes won’t work on me.
I call this the nigga please brick moment. Sometimes your sister has to pull out her brick, yell nigga please and hit you in the back of the head to keep you from doing something stupid. This is God’s brick.
I saw a gentleman in my home one night during my waiting period for the divorce. I didn’t think anything of it. This was Detroit. I was fine. Except I wasn’t.
I was wearing underwear, bra, pants, shirt, full length wrap that covered my body from head to toe. The only things visible were my face, hands and feet.
He told me to come to my bedroom but I refused. I reminded him of Islam and that it was the holy month of Ramadan. There was nothing in my bedroom.
He kept trying in every way possible. I told him that I wouldn’t sin and that this was his goal. He then said a word that I love and hold dear, wallahi. I reminded him that this is swearing to God Himself that you won’t try to have sex with me outside of wedlock.
A Muslim can marry a woman within two minutes of meeting her if he truly wants. He didn’t want marriage. He just wanted to take. He insisted, repeating the word Wallahi. I finally went to my room to try to drag him out if necessary.
He got me to sit on the edge of my bed as he roamed around arguing with me. I was fed up and about to leave when he knocked me down. I struggled and complained as he held me down.
I noticed that I could no longer escape so I held onto the waistband of my pants through the outer dress. I kept struggling and trying to get him to listen. He pushed aside the outer dress so I gripped the waistband itself. My nails were digging through the fabric and into my palms. I screamed, wriggled and writhed.
With one, quick, simple motion, he pushed down the front of my pants and underwear with his penis and thrust it into my vagina. I just went limp. I didn’t even bother struggling anymore. I was no longer in my body. I was floating off to make a shopping list, feed my cat, etc. anywhere but there.
When he finished, I was relieved. I hoped that he would leave. He jumped up and said that he’d be ready to go again soon. A little encouragement could speed things up. I wanted to vomit. If you saw me on the bed, I was still fully clothed, just a bit disheveled.
I told him that what happened was a sin that I did not want to even happen in the first place. I certainly didn’t want to do it again. He explained that I was struggling and trying to get away. I said that was because I was. I didn’t want it.
He explained to me that women do that because they want you. They want you to fight them and take them. I tried to explain that this is never the case nor acceptable. It is rape. I explained the different kinds of rape that are prosecuted, how, why and when. I said that this would be date rape. I even explained marital rape which was even harder.
I was told that men could and would go around having sex with women anywhere and everywhere. They liked it. Young or old, it didn’t matter. Women enjoy being raped.
You will notice that there was no romance, no kissing, no removal of clothing, no consent and no remorse. He took what he wanted and left. He believed that I owed it to him as a woman.
He told me later that he notified my ex-husband of my crime and sin against him. It was the honorable thing to do since it impacted him, as my husband for one more month until the waiting period ended. I shouldn’t tell anyone or else nobody will want to marry me as a known adulteress.
I told absolutely everyone about a special prayer atoning for my sins during that Ramadan when I received a miracle. I received reassurances from God that I would be able to defend myself to the death against anyone who tried to have sex with me outside of wedlock.
I confessed my sin but not the other involved. One day a woman told me about the man who raped me. She said that people were getting wise to him. He was interested in marriage with several women but suddenly things changed. It’s disgraceful that he makes these women look like they are the problem when it is him.
Women don’t always talk but they know. She said that the phone calls concerning him have been nonstop. She said that absolutely nobody in community would ever let their or any other woman near him.
Sometimes a strong community can overcome even when the law or disgrace are seemingly insurmountable.