Writers’ Club #6 - Delving Deep Into My Kaur

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A little while ago, we held a competition to create a new club of writers. Over the next few weeks, we’ll be introducing you to our winners, and the entries they submitted that got them their spot! This entry was submitted by Simran and explores what it means to be a woman of Sikh faith…

Growing up as a young Sikh woman in a world like ours, where society’s expression of beauty is defined by numbers, by colour, by unattainable standards that are forever changing, isn’t an easy feat. The Sikh practice and way of living very much challenges the societal norm and as a young woman, challenging society’s views of beauty through my conviction to my religious beliefs and practices hasn’t always been easy. It’s been a rocky road to embrace my identity and come to love myself, but this journey has shaped me for the better and has fuelled me with strength and compassion for the diverse world we’re surrounded by and are a part of.

Delving deeper into my core, deeper into what it means to be a Kaur, a woman of the Sikh faith; this is my story.

Significance of our uncut hair

One of the most widely known practices in Sikhi is to keep our hair. All of it. From the hair on our heads, to our body hair, it’s become such a taboo topic to discuss, especially for female followers of the faith and those beyond our Sikh community, as society tells us we’re more beautiful without it.

Our uncut hair (kes) is our identity, our roots to those who sacrificed their lives for us, so that we too could keep our hair and carry forth the identity of the Khalsa, the Sikh army. Many mothers of the Khalsa kept to this practice and in such times of oppression, even gave up their lives and the lives of their children for the longevity of our faith. The struggles of those who came before us really moved me with such emotion, and upon learning about this aspect of Sikh history, it kickstarted that integrity in me to stick to this same practice.

My experience with my Kes

Having been at a girls’ school for nearly six years, my experiences of peer pressure and judgement were very noticeable at surface level. I’d always kept my hair, never trimmed, nor cut it, but being surrounded by those who do cut theirs and those who shamed others for not, really took a toll on my self-esteem. It knocked my confidence and I felt compelled to comply with what society was telling me would look beautiful, which was to remove my body hair. It was at this point that I felt conflicted. I became more self-conscious, as one would. Being wary of what I’d wear and the constant fear of judgement caused my mental health and body confidence to decline. I became very self-critical and I soon realised that this wasn’t healthy for me.

However, something deep within me, in my heart, sparked my conscience and I started to think about what I really wanted for myself. Did I want to change myself for others, for the world, or did I want to be happy? My religious practices give me liberation from the shackles of society and all the negativity that comes with it. So, after thinking long and hard about it, I decided to work on my resilience and take pride in who I was and continue keeping my hair to combat the external influence of the world. It was at this turning point, that I finally began to love myself and I’ve never been happier!

My Dastaar: my crown

For the longest time I’d wanted to be able to tie a dastaar (a turban) and truly feel connected to Sikhi through this part of our religious uniform, however a busy school schedule meant that I never did have the time to learn.

A dastaar is a symbolism of equality. The idea of only royalty being able to wear a crown had built such a social hierarchy that those of lower social status were being oppressed and put at disadvantage. Sikhi very much preaches equality as the utmost importance and our tenth Guru, Sri Guru Gobind Singh Ji, gifted us with the dastaar, the turban, as our crown, that both men and women, of any background and righteous living could adorn, stamping out the previous social hierarchy.

During lockdown is when I missed the Sikh community the most. It was something I honestly did take for granted prior to the pandemic, but it was during this time that I had to turn to virtual means of connecting with others. Through this, I met an incredible friend and she became my companion on this religious journey of mine. We inspired each other to implement our Sikhi into our lives, to live more compassionately, awakened to this world we live in and learn to see the light within all. She had been learning to tie a dastaar for quite some time and it was at this time that I decided I wanted to learn too.

Through MANY fails, frustrations and times I thought I would never be able to tie one properly, I continued to practice and every day of lockdown I tied my dastaar. Over time, my tying improved and I eventually felt confident enough to wear my dastaar outside when restrictions were lifted. Instantly, I fell in love with this deeper, new found identity of mine, and it gave me so much more confidence in myself. It made me feel whole and complete and in June, I decided to get initiated as a baptised Sikh.

In September, I started sixth-form and wore my dastaar to school for the first time. It made me feel so proud to be a Kaur, a young Sikh woman, and continues to inspire me to help those around me find what fills their heart’s’ desires. From here, my self-love has only blossomed!

Check out some of our other Writers’ Club winning submissions! Here’s Elise’s piece on how our world draws on The Lorax, and Jessica’s piece on our planet’s plastic problem.