Hopefully, after writing all this down, I could overcome this trauma.

Just, hopefully.

In a typical girls' trip, we would probably take pictures, post the good ones on IG, and if your stories are lucky and you look photogenic enough, it would be added into the Highlight of your story.

But no one really talks about the traumatic incident in a good trip, right?

Because, really, we want to have the time of our lives. We want to forget the bad ones and just think of the good moments in a trip.

But for me, all I could think from the trip was the time I thought I was going to die.

There is no exaggeration here. Long story short, I was a victim of Islamophobia.

Maybe to them, it can be justified that they were drunk. They weren't thinking straight.

Maybe to us, it is not worth reporting to the police about this, as we only got three hours of transfer time.

It was a cold and windy night. But is it night if it is at 3am? Whatever. 

I told them, "oh look! The hotel! Let's go there and find a place to warm ourselves!" 

Much to our dismay, the receptionist didn't allow us to stay, but he said, "there's an internet cafe right at the corner if you need a place to stay temporarily."

So there we were at the internet cafe.

I cant

no

i can

We were sat nearest to the entrance. The guy at the bar signaled our hijab. And me being myself said, "yes, we are Muslims." Then continued to get some drinks. I'm going to spare you guys the details and skip to the rather interesting yet traumatic part.

My friend felt the vibes, She signaled us to leave, so that's what she and another friend did.

I stood up and 

and

I felt strong hands gripping on my head, pulling the fabric on my head off. And as a Malay hijab-wearer, I wore a brooch under my chin. Hence, as he tried pulling my hijab, I was choking to death.

That moment, I felt, 

goodbye everyone.

Was I going to die in the internet cafe? Will I be able to see my mom again? Will my family know my whereabouts if I were to die here?

And there it was, to my disgrace, my brooch broke and my inner scarf fell, and my friend, my saviour, immediately pulled my hijab back to where it should be.

Amidst the chaos, someone came to stop the guy. Rather two guys. It wasn't only just me. My other friend's hijab was pulled as well.

My friend who helped me put my hijab back on stood still. Shaken. While my other friends waited at the door, signaling us to leave.

Slowly I said, "let's go."

And she was back to her senses and we leave.

And I ran.

In marathons or races, they don't teach you how to run with luggages. 

But with my luggage and my knapsack, I never felt the need to run for my life as much as this.

Run, Ain, Run.

The cold wind bites against my backbone as I hear drunkards around us. Making fun of the way we run.

I don't care anymore.

Today is not going to be the day that I die.

I won't die this way.

I run. My luggage kept up with my speed. 

And we got back to the hotel. 

I made it.

The lady receptionist finally allowed us to stay in the hotel, the guy who rescued us came back to apologise and invited us to go back to the cafe.

No.

Not again.

Not ever.

And I spent the rest of my days always turning my head to the back, looking but avoiding eye contact with any blue-eyed men. Speed walking every time I see a dodgy-looking guy.

Thankfully, that wasn't the day I died. Thankfully, there was someone to save us. There were many reasons to be thankful for.

But I've learnt so many things. If I were to travel to a place where Muslims are not welcomed, I will have to bring at least one man. 

No amount of martial arts classes can help me when I was in that situation. As much as I hate to admit it, women are weak. We are not strong, unless occupied with someone stronger. 

Islamophobia is real. There is nothing you can do about it.

Yes you can participate in thousands of campaigns to stop preventing this. You can probably donate to some charity organisation but that wouldn't change the fact that men, mainly people with hate to attack you. Yes, they were drunk. But will that justify anything? Whatever happened, happened. The trauma is still stuck to my head.

This article is dedicated to all the Muslim women out there. Don't let these attackers demotivate you from wearing your hijab. Days after the attack, I didn't have a brooch on and I had no inner scarf because it was left at the cafe. I guess that scarf can be a reminder to them, or maybe as a joke to them when they're sober.

I am not strong. I am vulnerable, just like the rest of you. But if this thing were to happen to you, you are helpless. Maybe like me, you may see glimpses of the tragedy over and over again in your head. Or maybe if you are lucky enough, you get to move on and live a better person. I try to be the latter. 

Hopefully, this pain will be gone soon.