Sister, can you hear me?

I don't feel uncomfortable around a hijab wearing woman and I actually make it a point to salute them with an eye contact, a smile, and the customary Islamic greeting; I always get the surprised look and then the smile and the twinkle in the eye as if I had just liberated a caged mime.  I now look forward to those encounters, albeit not frequent where I live.  My greetings are liberating to myself and they shed a veil; the iron wall raised to confront the unaccepting stares, they momentarily showcase the person transplanted from their environment to this golden cage, and they also falsely build a welcoming sensation that is only given to them by an unannounced Muslim.
Hijab is a beautiful thing but only when it is not used to extinguish ones light and to erase ones'-self under a sheet of black, when it is carried with a sense of pride while exalting a smile and a welcoming aura, when the wearer is not using it as a short cut to fashion and a passport to abundantly enjoy our god given bounty, and when she is not bent on challenging the stares with a Jihadist  look while sporting an oversized ninja costume come undone.
One need only to look at tv's portrayal of Islamic countries to see the antidote to fashion, lack of effort, and the ever present moving black tents.  These are the blank human-less images we are fed in the American media and our imagination is only slightly coerced to fill in the blanks and paint the void with the apparent chaos also depicted.  Sad is the day when globalization is pitting us against each other and building walls it's supposed to erase; in this regard, I prefer the old images of the Islamic world found in antique stores where Muslims are portrayed as tent dwelling people with a harem of beautiful maidens in a sublime desert environment calling to the observer to shed his industrial weight, and dream.
Beautiful sister, fly like a phoenix and burn to rebirth in your true magnificent colors, embrace the world, and showcase your Islam with your motherly embrace of those around you.  It is not sufficient to wear a hijab, it is not yet a check in a box unless you also become the ambassador of your religion, the inconspicuous missionary, the bearer of good news and the dispeller of the myth, the good neighbor, the helpful person unimpeded by your stylish garb, the educator, and even the leader of your immense faith which I lack but so profoundly admire in your courage and determination.

The loss of a smile

Protests in Greece, shelling of innocent civilians in Bani Walid, hurt little girl struggling for her life in the U.K., orphaned child in Syria and yet they all still manage to smile through their tears, through their pain, and through their loss.
We are a creature of habits or maybe that smile is our saving grace? Maybe...
We smile to ease our suffering, we smile to lull our senses, we smile to win support and even save our lives.  We smile to conjure sympathy, we smile to beg for mercy, we smile for redemption, we smile to a baby learning to walk, and we smile to an old man on his cane.  We smile for the picture with the apocalyptic background, we smile for the people torn by war and they smile back.
What happens though when those smiles are used up, when the bulb is burned, and when the glimmer and hope is gone?  What happens when the mask is ripped off our face and stampeded on? What happens when there is no tomorrow and all is lost? 
Desperation sets in and chaos reins and grows like a weed with tentacles reaching far down in our being and souls.  We become indifferent, we become stoic, we lose our humanity and we are plagued by a sinister being familiar and yet strange; a being that wants to be fed those smiles, a being that rejects humanity and paradise, a being that is lost to God and welcomed by the devil, a human in form but void in light, a human bent on revenge and destruction, a death-row prisoner bent on recruiting, a nothing and an all....