Page 97 - A Woman Is No Man

someone important. There was so much she wanted to do, so many places
she wanted to see, yet here she was, a nobody, struggling even to ride the
train so many people used every day without a second thought.

The woman was staring back at her now. Deya did her best to smile.
These days it was hard enough for people like her to walk around in jeans
and a T-shirt, let alone a hijab and jilbab. It wasn’t fair she had to live this
way, always afraid of what people saw when they looked at her. She finally
understood why Fareeda had banned them from wearing the hijab outside of
school, finally saw how fear could force you to change who you were.
After a few deep breaths, Deya took a furtive look around the train car.

Everywhere she turned, people were staring. There was that feeling again
inching up her chest. She swallowed, tried to push it down, but it clung in
her throat. She turned to face the darkened window. Why did she have to be
so afraid, so sensitive, so affected by the world? She wished she could be
stronger, wished she could be one of those people who could listen to a sad
song without bursting into tears, who could read something horrible in the

news without feeling sick, who didn’t feel so deeply. But that wasn’t her.
The R train seemed to go on forever, stopping at countless stations.
Deya stared out the window, reading the signs three times at each station to
make sure she didn’t miss her stop. Fourteenth Street–Union Square
Station. At Court Street, the conductor announced it was the last stop in
Brooklyn, and Deya realized the train was about to pass through a tunnel
that ran under the Hudson River. The thought of being underwater both

frightened and fascinated her. She wondered how it was possible to build a
tunnel underwater, how extraordinary its designer must have been. She tried
to picture herself creating something beautiful, changing the world
somehow, but couldn’t. Soon she would get married, and then what? What
kind of life would she lead? A predictable life of duty. She squeezed the
card tight. But maybe Fareeda was right. Maybe her life would turn out

differently than Isra’s. Maybe Nasser would let her be who she wanted to
be. Maybe once she was married, she could finally be free.