Hijab Mom

As a woman, the woman and mother in me, won’t let me not empathize for another mother is crisis.  My world revolves completely around my children.  Their safety and happiness is my priority.  At night, I enjoy the luxury of a warm home with running water and soft beds.  And I have no reason to think we won’t do it again tomorrow.  I feel safe. 

The thought that another mother will fall asleep tonight listening to sounds of war or with the uncertainty of being able to provide for or protect her children tomorrow haunts me.  I feel our shared primal urge to protect our children.  

I’ve tried to imagine what it must feel like to be displaced and vulnerable.  I’ve tried to imagine what it must feel like to sleep under some tent or in some flimsy temporary housing.  I CAN imagine the distress that mother feels not being able to insure her children’s protection and safety.

I think about the strength it must take to relocate my family with nothing except what we can carry.  Where would we even go if everything I know is no longer there?  

In reality, I’ll probably never know what it’s like to be homeless with a family and children.  I probably won’t know the stink of living pillar to post with no prospect of work or permanent housing; all under threat of war and eminent danger. 

But in reality, there are mothers who do know.  Every night.





I wanted to present a woman with all her strengths and flaws but without a racial identity.  I wanted the viewers to see alluring, comfortable curves and the power of a strong back.  I just wanted the viewers to just see us. 

I created the entire A.O. Collection to do just that.