I was born in a Shia-Iraqi family. We moved to America for a better life during the Ba’ath regime. My mom had to take off her abaya when she arrived as she was afraid of the west’s hate of the hijab. But she still wore a juba and never took in the western clothing. As I grew up, she taught me the love of Ahlul Bait and how to wear hijab and be modest in the western world. Since I was five, I always wore long clothes and covered most of the time. I wore the hijab properly from the age of six because I had gotten used to it, and I loved it as a child. But as I grew older to my teenage years, I noticed that it’s not the western people who were pushing me away from Allah, it was my friends from my Hussainya.  When I was between 12 and 13, I wore a long juba and a large scarf with no makeup, and I didn’t mind it. But when my friends, who I had grown up with from the age five years old to 16 years old, made fun of me. They wore tight clothes and makeup or short clothes outside. It was okay for them because everyone was doing — this except me. My father would never allow me to walk out with a short shirt and makeup. I got jealous, and I started questioning my parents, myself and my religion. I started thinking, why can’t I be like them? And I made mistakes. But I learned something as the days went on, that my friends let the western world change them and think what it was okay because they were in the west. My friends and I went to the same mosque and grew up together, but one different thing was my mom didn’t let me forget what I am and what my hijab stands for. Muslims think it’s okay to change themselves for the west, but the west doesn’t judge, I’ve felt more comfortable in my hijab and juba around Americans more than my community. I felt they never judged my hijab and who I am. But my community pitied me for being modest, and right now I pity them for forgetting the true modest hijab.