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| The Hijab |
My Accidental Jihad: A Love Story by Krista Bremer
Is there some universal force which can bring people from completely differing backgrounds together in a profound, loving union? In a sense, this is the query at the core of Krista Bremer’s candid memoir. Raised in southern California where freedom of thought is prized, Krista moved to North Carolina in order to further her career as a journalist. Once settled, she scheduled for herself a jogging regimen. During one such jog, she met Ismail, a Libyan man 14 years her senior, with strong Islamic beliefs.Gradually, the two began jogging together, their meetings becoming less accidental, until they agreed to meet at specified times, then going out for coffee later. Still, given their age difference, and the polarity of their cultural and religious frameworks, even after they became lovers, Krista regarded their bond as a friendly romance. Ismail had wished to marry Krista for some time. Although uncertain at first, her perspective changed when she realized a child had been conceived between herself and Ismail. As neither of them wished to terminate this pregnancy, the couple were married. Not surprisingly, awareness of the ways in which Krista and Ismail diverged grew increasingly clear.
Why, she wondered, would he go without food all day throughout the month of Ramadan, eating only three dates, in a specified pattern, just prior to sunrise? Conversely, what, he wondered, impelled her to wish for a gift focusing on hearts each Valentine’s Day.
Each of them did all they could to accommodate one another’s wishes. Still, a pivotal moment came when Krista, having found Ismail took no joy in her Valentine gifts, shaped a heart out of colored paper and then wrote on it all the reasons she loved him. Later, during an evening walk, Ismail said this was the most perfect gift she could ever have given him.
A few years after their marriage, their visit to his native Libya helped Krista understand his values. The women, in charge of all domestic work and food preparation, spent nearly all their free hours in each other’s company. At first, Krista wondered how they endured the inevitable level of suffocating stultification.
Gradually, she realized these women found a peace and relaxation together. It was all they had ever known, all they expected; they comprised an affectionate unit. Older ladies died, young women married, but the basic group stayed cohesive.
She also discovered one major reason Libyan women, aside for religious commands, are willing to appear in public with their bodies and faces all but completely concealed by various types of veils. Having asked one sister-in-law to show her the ways in which these coverings were created, she felt the gentle but definite knot of the head scarf being secured under her chin. For the first time, she luxuriated in the freedom of privacy. Arguably, this mode of dress was the ultimate feminist refusal to be appraised in terms of male definitions of allure and attractiveness.
Krista Bremer’s memoir ends with the couple’s resumption of life in America, and their mutual knowledge that some divergences will always need to be overlooked, or result in the occasional conflicts. Still, in any successful relationship, at the root of genuine love is acceptance by each partner of the other, transcending their separateness.
