Beyond the Hijab: Seeing the Filipino Behind the Veil

When you see a woman wearing a hijab, what is the first thought that comes to your mind?

For many Filipinos, perhaps the immediate answer is, “Muslim siya.” And yes, the hijab is commonly associated with Islam. But what if we allowed ourselves to look beyond that first impression? What if, instead of seeing only the piece of cloth on her head, we took a moment to see the person wearing it?

For many Muslim women, the hijab is more than clothing. It can represent faith, modesty, identity, dignity, and a deeply personal expression of their beliefs. We may not all understand the reasons why someone chooses to wear it, especially if we did not grow up around Muslim communities. But not understanding something should never be an excuse to judge it.

I learned this lesson early in my life.

When I was in grade school, I did not grow up with my parents. I lived with my grandparents in Davao City. My favorite teacher in Grade 5 was Muslim, and I also had several Muslim classmates. At that age, I never really thought of them as being different from the rest of us. They laughed with us, studied with us, played with us, and dreamed about their futures just like we did.

Some of my female classmates also wore the hijab. I remember one classmate who would sometimes take off her hijab after passing beyond her neighborhood because she wanted to wear the same clothes that many of us wore during Wednesday wash day. I did not fully understand what that meant when I was younger, but the memory stayed with me.

Looking back, I realized that Muslim children, just like all children, want many of the same things. They want friendship. They want acceptance. They want to belong. They want to grow up without constantly being reminded that they are different.

That is why I sometimes wonder what happens when we grow older. Why do we become more willing to judge people based on what we see on the outside?

When my family eventually moved to Manila, I began hearing stereotypes about Muslims that I had not encountered in the same way while growing up in Davao. I heard jokes and comments from people who sometimes had very little personal experience with Muslim communities. Some associated Muslims with conflict or violence. Others reduced Muslim women to stereotypes about the work they supposedly did.

I remember hearing people joke, “Ah, Muslim women, nagbebenta ng tempered glass.”

There is absolutely nothing shameful about selling tempered glass. There is dignity in honest work, regardless of what that work is. But the problem is when we take one occupation, one experience, or one stereotype and use it to define an entire community.

Imagine if someone looked at your profession, your clothes, or your religion and decided that they already knew everything about you.

Would that be fair?

This is where I believe we need to look at ourselves as Filipinos.

Bakit kapag may taong iba ang suot, iba ang kultura, o iba ang paniniwala, ang bilis nating humusga?

Sometimes, we don’t even ask questions. We don’t try to understand. We simply look at what is unfamiliar and immediately create a story about the person in front of us.

And the truth is, Muslims are not strangers to Filipino society. They are already part of our communities and our everyday lives. They are teachers, students, professionals, entrepreneurs, parents, artists, workers, and friends. You can find Muslim Filipinos in schools, offices, shopping centers, markets, and businesses. In places such as Taytay Tiangge, many Muslim entrepreneurs work hard to support their families and build their livelihoods.

But even that should not become another stereotype.

Muslims are not defined by the businesses they own, the products they sell, or the clothes they wear. Just like every Filipino, they are individuals with different personalities, dreams, experiences, beliefs, and stories.

Unfortunately, misconceptions about Muslims continue to exist in the Philippines. Sometimes they appear in obvious forms, such as discrimination or hateful comments. Other times, they appear in jokes that people consider harmless. But what seems like a small joke to one person can become another person’s daily reminder that they are being viewed as different.

And when these stereotypes continue for generations, they can contribute to deeper divisions.

In parts of Mindanao, the history of conflict between communities reminds us that misunderstanding, mistrust, and discrimination can have serious consequences. Conflict is never caused by one simple thing, and it would be unfair to reduce the history of Mindanao to religion alone. But history does remind us of the importance of building understanding between communities rather than allowing stereotypes to create further distance.

Because before people fight one another, they often stop seeing one another as equals.

That is why our everyday choices matter.

The jokes we repeat.

The assumptions we make.

The people we choose to understand.

The people we choose to exclude.

These things may seem small, but they shape how communities see one another.

I understood the importance of this even more when I worked in BGC, Taguig City. There, I met two colleagues who wore the hijab every day, Aya, who was born and raised in Lanao, and Merrycel, who embraced Islam after marrying her Muslim husband. Both were subject matter experts in our department, and both were accomplished professionals.

But Aya became my closest friend.

Through our friendship, she shared stories about her religion, her culture, and the traditions she grew up with in her province. I listened, I asked questions, and little by little, I began to understand a world that was different from my own.

And that experience taught me something important.

Sometimes, the best way to overcome a misconception is simply to get to know a person.

Through Aya, I learned that the hijab could represent much more than what an outsider might assume. For her, it was connected to faith, identity, and strength. It was part of how she expressed who she was.

It made me realize that we often ask people to explain themselves when perhaps what they really deserve first is respect.

Imagine walking into a room wearing a hijab and immediately noticing people looking at you.

Some may be curious.

Some may simply be unfamiliar.

Others may already have assumptions about you before you have even introduced yourself.

You continue walking because you know who you are and what you believe.

But that does not mean those stares are easy to carry.

This is why empathy matters.

We may not experience the world in the same way as a Muslim woman wearing a hijab. But we can imagine what it feels like to be judged before someone knows our name.

And perhaps that is enough to make us pause before making an assumption.

There have also been efforts to promote greater awareness and recognition of the hijab in the Philippines. Senator Robin Padilla co-authored the Senate Bill No. 1410, proposed February 1 as National Hijab Day, with the intention of recognizing and promoting understanding of the hijab and the Muslim women who wear it. Initiatives like this can create opportunities for Filipinos to learn more about Muslim culture and to have conversations that challenge misconceptions.

But laws and awareness campaigns alone cannot change how we see one another.

That change also has to happen in ordinary places.

In classrooms.

In workplaces.

In neighborhoods.

In public transportation.

In our families.

And even in the conversations we have with our friends.

Because respecting someone does not mean that we have to adopt their religion.

A Christian does not need to become Muslim to respect a Muslim woman.

A Muslim does not need to become Christian to respect a Christian.

We can have different beliefs and still recognize each other’s humanity.

That, to me, is one of the most beautiful things about being Filipino.

We are not one single culture.

We are not one single language.

We are not one single tradition.

And we are not one single faith.

We are a nation made up of differences.

Yet somehow, we continue to call one another kabayan.

Maybe that word should remind us of something.

Before we ask what religion someone belongs to, perhaps we should remember that they are also someone’s child, someone’s friend, someone’s parent, someone’s colleague, and someone’s neighbor.

Before we ask why she wears a hijab, perhaps we should first ask ourselves why her choice makes us uncomfortable.

And before we judge someone because they look different from us, perhaps we should remember all the times we ourselves have wanted to be understood rather than judged.

So, to every Filipino, and especially to those of us who are not Muslim, the next time you see a woman wearing a hijab, I hope you pause.

Don’t immediately assume.

Don’t reduce her to a stereotype.

Don’t decide who she is before she has the chance to show you.

Instead, see the person.

See her as a fellow Filipino.

See her as a woman with her own story, her own dreams, her own struggles, and her own reasons for choosing the life she lives.

You don’t have to share her faith.

You don’t have to understand everything about her religion.

But you can choose to respect her.

Because the hijab does not make her less Filipino.

Her religion does not make her less Filipino.

Her culture does not make her less Filipino.

She is Filipino, just as you are.

And perhaps that is the conversation we need to have more often in our country, not about how different we are, but about how we can learn to live with those differences without allowing them to divide us.

Because at the end of the day, whether we are Christian, Muslim, or part of another faith, or simply someone still trying to understand the world around us, we all want many of the same things.

We want our families to be safe.

We want our children to have opportunities.

We want to be treated with dignity.

We want to be respected.

And we want to live in peace.

Maybe unity does not mean becoming the same.

Maybe unity means learning to respect one another precisely because we are different.

And perhaps, in a country as diverse as the Philippines, that is where true understanding begins.