Some encounters are very direct: you meet someone and talk to them. Other encounters take place at a distance.
One such distant encounter is what I observe in my neighborhood, Astoria, in Queens. Almost every type of person lives in the area, so I am always surrounded by people from all parts of the world. There is a huge fruit stand on the corner of my block called United Brothers. They have a huge selection of fresh fruits and vegetables. Some of the produce they offer is strange to me, and I enjoy discovering these exotic edibles. United Brothers is like a beehive, humming with activity, and it attracts a diverse crowd.
There's a group of women who shop there who wear long black robes. Their skirts reach to the ground, and everything is covered, except for a tiny slit for their eyes. They even wear black gloves.
I'm kind of fascinated by them—I wonder what it's like to be completely covered up on the hottest days of the year. Is it uncomfortable? Do they feel constricted by their clothing? I've never spoken to these women; I'm not even sure they would speak to me if I tried to speak to them. As a result, I go about my shopping and they go about theirs, and I observe them in the corner of my eye. I certainly don't want to stare or make them uncomfortable. I'm just curious.
I actually do have some muslim friends whose wives are veiled, but not in this complete way. It's the total covering that piques my interest.
There are many kinds of veils and clothing for observant muslim women. Most of the muslim women I know prefer a simple hijab, which takes the form of a scarf that covers the neck and the hair fairly tightly; their faces are completely uncovered (Vyver). The women I notice at the fruit market are wearing niqabs, which have a full face veil with a wide slit that simply shows the eyes. The rest of the niqab is loose-fitting, so as not to show the curves of the figure (Vyver). The most complete covering is provided by a burka, which includes a cloth mesh over the eye slit in the outfit (Vyver).
One day I was at the market, and a woman passed by me wearing her Niqab. I glanced at her eyes. Under her veil, I saw that she was wearing thick eyeliner and carefully-applied, exquisite makeup. And it made me wonder—what is the secret life of a beautiful woman who takes such care and attention with her appearance, yet walks through the streets of Astoria hiding it from the world?
It's all very foreign to me, but I'm glad I live in a place where people can choose their own way of being in the world.
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