They Saw My Hijab Before They Saw Me: When Injustice Depends on Who You Are

Some people have called the recent police lathi-charge on protesters "the murder of democracy."

Maybe that's how it feels to them.

But I cannot help asking one uncomfortable question:

Why does democracy seem to die only when certain people are hurt? Why was it silent when others cried for the same justice?

These thoughts were first shared with me by a close friend and they forced me to look back not just at the headlines but at my own life.

Many Indians still remember the events surrounding the protests of 2019-20. For many Muslims, those images from Jamia Millia Islamia, Aligarh Muslim University, Shaheen Bagh and other places were not just news clips. 

They became memories of fear, pain and a feeling that their voices did not receive the same empathy that others receive today.

Whether one agreed with those protests or not one question remains relevant:

Should our compassion change depending on the identity of the people who suffer?

That question stayed with me because I have lived a much quieter version of the same feeling.

My Story

In 2018, I joined a web development institute with excitement.

I wore my hijab every day.

I Didn't Know My Hijab Could Introduce Me Before I Did

I expected to learn programming.I never expected to learn that people could judge me before they even knew my name. For almost a year, I felt like an outsider. People rarely spoke to me. Groups formed without me. Conversations happened around me never with me.

I kept asking myself the same question:

"What did I do wrong?"

I had no answer. Then came Saraswati Puja. Everyone in my class was sharing prasad.

Nobody offered it to me.

My teacher was the only person who did.

That day I overheard words that stayed with me.

"She's Muslim."

"These people aren't good."

Those sentences broke something inside me. These weren't children. They were adults so-called Educated people.

People old enough to understand the difference between judging a person's actions and judging their religion. Yet my hijab had already decided my character in their minds.

Not because they knew me. Not because I had harmed anyone. Simply because I belonged to a different faith. I often wonder how many people have gone through similar experiences without ever talking about them.

How many students sit alone.

How many women wearing hijab walk into classrooms already carrying the burden of assumptions.

How many people from different communities silently accept discrimination because speaking up feels pointless.

This Is Where My Friend's Thoughts Connect With Mine

When my friend spoke about recent events and compared them with the pain many Muslims experienced during earlier protests I understood what they were trying to say.

The point was not that one person's pain is greater than another's. The point was that empathy should never be selective. If we condemn excessive force today we should also have condemned it yesterday. If we demand justice for one community today we should also stand for another community tomorrow.

Justice loses its meaning the moment it starts asking,

"Who is the victim?"

before deciding whether to care.

Let Me Be Absolutely Clear This article is not against Hindus.

I have met kind, compassionate Hindus who stood beside Muslims without hesitation. My best friend is also an Hindu.

Just as I know that no community is free from people who spread hatred.

Hatred has no religion.

Prejudice has no religion.

Humanity shouldn't either.

The people who made me feel unwanted in 2018 do not represent an entire faith. But pretending such experiences never happen would also be dishonest. Ignoring discrimination does not end discrimination. Talking about it is not spreading hate.

Sometimes, it is the first step towards healing.

My Hope

I don't want sympathy because I wear a hijab.

I don't want special treatment because I am Muslim.

I want something much simpler.

Judge me after you know me.

Not before.

Judge my words. Judge my actions. Judge my character.

But please...

Don't judge me because of the cloth on my head or the name I carry.

A democracy is not measured only by elections or slogans.

It is measured by whether an ordinary girl can walk into a classroom, a workplace or a protest without being treated as "one of them."

The day we stop dividing pain by religion, ideology or identity...

that will be the day humanity wins.