The Pessimist

I've been spending a lot of time in and around hospitals lately. First, over the last 6 months, my mother-in-law had a life threatening organ attack (liver, I think), then she had a knee replaced, then she broke her leg (opposite the replaced knee). Then my father had a heart attack. They are concurrently in hospital, have been for a month, and will be for another month. My father is likely dying.

So last weekend, having spent way too much time in hospital, I was entering the hospital yet again when this occurred ...

Coming down the escalator as I was going up was a man and his two little daughters. They were all very happy. I assume they were coming from the "happy-wing" of the hospital -- the maternity ward. He was about my age and he was dressed not unlike me. His daughters were maybe 6 and 10 and they were dressed in colourful long dresses and bright matching coloured hijabs. The small one was skipping and giggling like little girls do.

First down the escalator was the 6 year-old. She smiled at me, but I did not smile at her.
Then came her father. He smiled at me, but I did not smile at him.
Then came the 10 year-old. I glared at her, and she glared at me.

This brief encounter has bothered me ever since. I do not like the hijab, though I don't find it as reprehensible as the burqa or the niqab. I do not know why girls this young would be wearing these costumes, as my understanding of Islam is that head coverings are not required until puberty.

So I was in a foul mood; my emotional reserve was at a very low ebb. When confronted with these two hijabs I viewed them with contempt. The older girl had obviously become aware of being on the receiving end of the long stare, and was none too happy about it. Whether her displeasure was directed at her father for making her wear the get-up in public, or at me for being a jerk infidel, I can not say.

What good does it do for me to hate these little girls. These little girls were cute, and nice. But with a look, I am separating them. And by separating them, am I driving them into the hands of terrorist ideologies?
I didn't hate these two particular little girls. But I do hate the outward symbolism of separation from society that they were making, or their father was making them make.

This is the very definition of Cognitive dissonance:

the uncomfortable tension that results from having two conflicting thoughts at the same time

I felt it that day. I didn't like it. I didn't like myself.