I’ve always been locked in a never-ending tug-of-war with myself over the issue of eyebrow plucking. As a young teenager, aged 12, I had no idea it was wrong. Peer pressure being what it was, and my dark hair and mini uni-brow being what they were, the idea of not plucking wouldn’t have occurred to me. So away I plucked till the age of sixteen. The time came when I was sitting in the basement of the mosque, eyebrows done to perfection, my eyes exquisitely rimmed in kohl and 3 coats of mascara, looking like a dime, when the woman giving us our weekly lecture said: If the Prophet were to walk in right now, what do you imagine his reaction would be? Would you be able to look him in the face?
Now I’ve been forever blessed with a deep, unquestionable love for the Prophet. So I froze up. In my minds eye I could clearly see the disappointment in his eyes, the sorrow he would feel over the fate of the young muslim Ummah. By that time, I knew that eyebrow plucking was a big no-no and so my ways (and eyebrows) changed for the better.
Then I moved to Syria for six months. It took about 2 weeks of ‘you don’t have to look like that,’ ‘what happened’s’ and plucked brows raised in perplexity for me to cave in and pick up the plucker. All thoughts of the Prophet and his reaction where put away were they could bother me no more in favor of looking good. My nafis won this battle.
I moved back to Canada. This is when I ran into the fact that the Angel of Death visits us seven times a day. I was shocked to my core. I had always thought, naive little me, that I could become religious in the future. Seven times. A day. She who plucks eyebrows, or she whose eyebrows are plucked is dammed (no loophole of getting people to pluck for you). Dammed. Need I be anymore clear? I won this little battle and out my eyebrows grew.
Today I’m back in Syria and, yes, you guessed it: my eyebrows are done. But now I’m out of excuses. I know I’m as likely to die now as I am at the age of 80. I know that by doing this I am dammed. Yet my nafis stubbornly insists I pluck, and so my will and my deen bow to it. But no longer. Ramadan is coming, and as one of my Ramadan Resolution!! (see next post for details) I will not pluck. My nafis will win no longer. Today is day one. So far, so good.