I’m a Hijabi Athlete. I Shouldn’t Need to Sign a Waiver to Compete
Recently, while packing for my fifth appearance at the Triathlon Long Course National Championships in Miami, Florida, I thought about Noor Abukaram, the 16-year-old cross-country runner who was disqualified at a local Ohio meet for running in religious headwear. Because, along with packing the nutrition I would need for my race—my favorite goggles, cycling cleats, and running shoes—I also packed four different race kits. Not because of weather, or a great fashion sense, but because the race would likely be non-wetsuit, and like Noor, I am a hijabi. I race fully covered and constantly have to wonder what kit race officials are least likely to question.
Last year, I was initially disqualified at the National Championships for my choice. At the end of that 70.3-mile race, I was hot, sweaty, and exhausted, yet excited to be headed into the off season. I was confident I had raced fast enough to make the US World Championship Team by counting women in my age group at the run turn around. I was anxious to see where I placed but before I could even sit down, a friend quietly pulled me to the side. “Khadijah, you need to check the results. You’ve been disqualified.” I had not been shown a card on the bike, so I immediately went to the results area where the officials were located and asked why I was disqualified. The official told me that as a non-wetsuit race (because the water temperature was about 78 degrees Farenheit), my kit had violated the rules.
“You raced in a wetsuit.”
“No, I did not, sir. I raced in the kit I have on right now and a ROKA swim skin, like everyone else.” I was wearing ITU/USAT approved kit that was long-sleeved and long-legged, with no compression below the knee or elbow.
I asked the official to inspect my transition area to see my swim skin (a thinner, non-buoyant replacement for wetsuits), but he refused. The head referee—whom I had told I was racing fully covered at the athletes briefing—happened to walk up. I explained what had just transpired, and the disqualification was overturned.
I had successfully qualified for my third US World Championship Team. But my elation was colored with a sense of frustration that, after racing on the US Team for three years, I still had to “check-in” with officials because there is no approved list of hijabi kits. “What if I didn’t have the confidence to defend my rights as an athlete, as a human being?” I thought. “If I hadn’t been a previous member of the US Triathlon Team, would the head referee still have listened to me?”
There are no established rules for Muslim women in triathlon who wear hijab, so I had long feared this situation. In 2016, the first year I made the US Team, I prayed for WEEKS that the race was wet-suit legal. Every time I race, I am literally at the mercy of race directors as to whether my results will count.
Noor expressed a similar sentiment after her DQ. For the entire season and, for the past three years, she has participated in different sports in hijab without issue, but being disqualified due to her religious headwear was always in the back of her mind.
When I first read about Noor’s experience, it brought tears to my eyes. My heart beat as if I was standing on a start line. I relived all of my experiences as a hijabi triathlete: The 2018 Long Course Championships disqualification; the Ironman Augusta race that same year, where I had been pulled off the starting line; the local 2016 race where another athlete questioned an official, “Why does she get to wear that thing?” I relived the Ironman Raleigh in 2015, where I was told that I could not start with my age group and I would have to start at the back of the race with novice swimmers. When I refused, I was told I would be pulled from the start line. All of these experiences were because I compete in hijab.
Noor and I aren’t the only athletes who fear we will be excluded or disqualified because we wear hijab. We’re not the only athletes who know what it feels like to be more worried about the race starting without incident than the race itself. This happens regularly.
The Ohio High School Athletic Association’s statement that Noor did not complete the waiver necessary to compete in religious headwear is, to me, a weak argument. We all recognize that rules in sport are established to ensure everyone is participating on an even playing field. No athlete should receive an unfair advantage. Yet I am baffled why anyone would think that participating in an endurance event fully covered is somehow an unfair advantage. There is extra drag on the swim, and even with the amazing wicking materials that have been used for my kits I am sure I would be cooler while running and riding without my hijab, long sleeves, and full-leg kits. I challenge anyone to compete in a long-distance running race or a triathlon between 70.3 and 140.6 miles fully covered and still be able to honestly state hijabis are somehow receiving an unfair advantage.
I often hear, “Rules are rules.” But rules should not be used to dehumanize an athlete simply because they are not the traditional athlete.
The fact that Noor—or any other hjabi—must "get permission" to wear her hijab is absurd. I believe the intent of the official at the cross country meet in Ohio was to make an example of Noor at the biggest race of the season. To not only embarrass and dehumanize this young runner, but to discourage other potential hijabi runners.
What if Noor hadn’t had the courage to share her story? What is her family hadn’t had the courage to not accept, “Rules are Rules”? They are working with the school system to add rules for hijabi athletes. The demographic of the United States is changing daily, and it must be recognized that hijabi athletes are runners, ice skaters, triathletes. Any rules used to limit and dehumanize us must not be looked upon as acceptable.
Like every athlete, I have many personal goals. But my biggest goal, the goal that never changes, is not just for me. My goal is to help establish rules and precedents for hijabi triathletes so that we never have to ask for permission to race. I want hijabis to be able to show up to a cross country event, a marathon, or a triathlon and for people not to wonder about her hijab—just how fast she can go.
You Might Also Like
