A Week In The Life of a Muslim Woman in London

The article below was published in the Sunday Mail today:

The no: 9 bus from Trafalgar Square was really packed and I had to shove and push to get in. Usually, I am not even aware that I am different from the rest of the crowd, be it in the train or the bus or walking along the streets of London. But the tragedy two Thursdays ago has changed all that somewhat. Instinctively, I looked for another hijabed lady, a Muslim face or anyone I can feel connected to, but in that crowded bus, I found none and I felt the gaze, or perhaps I thought, I felt the gaze was on me.

But one gaze from one particular person, sitting by the window, made me feel very comfortable. So comfortable that I introduced myself to him and started pouring out everything in that No: 9 bus full of strangers.

Terry Waite

I told him about the can of beer that was flung at our car, splashing the liquid all over the windscreen, about the verbal abuse from a passer by and even about the lady who moved to sit somewhere else when I sat next to her.

The look of horror and sympathy registered on this very famous face.

“I am so sorry,” he apologised. And this comes from a person who suffered four years in solitary confinement as hostage of Islamic Jihad, an extremist group in Beirut, when as the envoy of the church, he went to negotiate the release of some hostages there in the late 80’s.

Why should I expect sympathy from someone who had suffered so much at the hands of Islamic extremists? But this was Terry Waite, who still tirelessly works with the Muslim world.

“I am so sorry that it happened and I sincerely hope that there will not be any backlash on the Muslim community,” he continued over the head of a very small old lady sitting next to him. He was on his way to catch a flight to Jordan and there was a massive traffic jam.

“I believe that the attack on Iraq has a lot to do with this. A lot of innocent people died there but I am not saying that it justifies the killing here. Nothing can justify the killing of innocent lives, “ he said.

We parted at Hyde Park Corner and he wished me well, assuring me that the Metropolitan Police are doing all they can to prevent any form of backlashes. And God knows how much I need it as the last few days have done much to change my feelings as a Muslim, a hijabed Muslim woman, living and working in this country.

I have donned the hijab for about three years and had never once received as much as a dirty look from non Muslims here. London is indeed a tolerant city, and I hope it will continue to be so, although the past week’s experience has left me somewhat scared.
Kak Teh as of three years ago..


Last week’s tragedy took me to all the places where the bombing took place, King’s Cross, Aldgate East, Edgware Road and Russel Square and I must have been the only female hijabed journalist around, which of course drew a lot of other foreign media to me to ask me about my feelings and opinion as a Muslim. Walking back to the car with my cameraman, we were hassled by a man in his 30’s. We got in the car in time, escaping the missile of beer can, which hit the window, spilling its contents all over. I was shaken, but my Italian cameraman kindly assured that the can was aimed at him. He was also his protective self when someone hurled a verbal insult while we drove back from north London, saying that the insult was for him. Yeah, right!

Interviewed by German TV in front of the Central Mosque

I didn't have him to protect me when I took the bus two days ago. Although, nothing was hurled my way, a dagger look was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. The owner of the icy pair of eyes soon moved to sit elsewhere. Among those three acts I described above, perhaps the last one has the most lasting impression on me, making me feel like I have never felt before in all my 25 years in London.

The mood changed quite slowly. The first two days, people were too stunned to react, and sure enough as Reverand Robert Wickham, standing vigil daily at King’s Cross Station told me, the out pouring of emotions will come later. And now with the suspects, all Muslims, being detained, fingers pointing to Muslims, reports of mosques being smeared and attacked, as a Muslim, one can’t help but feel vulnerable and defensive.

A friend up north in Aberdeen confirmed the feeling. Sometimes, it is also a feeling of self doubt and oevrly sensitive. When someone moves seat, was it me, or did she do that to everyone? When my bag was searched at the entrance to the office, was I being paranoid and too quick to play the religious card? And on the other hand, when someone was overly nice, you think, is he trying too hard?

But speaking to friends, you get the general picture. Someone got stoned, a few got verbal abuse and one or two had their hijabs pulled - very much like the backlash in the aftermath of 911.

Looking at the suspects being rounded up, the one that died on the no: 30, my heart went out to their parents, to the families of the victims. "We are all victims," said Terry Waite. I couldn't really bear to look at the pictures. My own son is around that age, and I worry about him being stopped and subjected to searches and interrogations. During my drive around London, I have seen too many young boys being stopped and searched. This is after all a very difficult and dangerous time.

A week after the bombing, a remembrance ceremony for the victims of the blasts was held at Trafalgar Square. I felt I had to go and indeed, there were many other Muslims who made the effort, to show that we are not part of the barbaric act and we do not condone terrorism. We wanted to show this other face of Islam that the world is fast forgetting.

Young British Muslims against Terrorism

London is very much my home where my neighbours holler out ‘Mind how you go,” and “Take care,” as I leave for work in the morning, where the news vendors chatted and exchange banters with me as I make my way to work, where my children have sleep overs at their friends’ place during weekends.

Balloons of Peace In The London Sky



When I came back from a two week visit to Paris last year, I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped on to the British soil. I felt so free and secure and so very much at home. Now, I am not sure anymore.