There was an interesting part of the interview with Shelagh Rogers that I keep thinking about. When she asked me about raising strong-minded daughters, even strong-willed daughters and how that’s what we want our daughters to be and we tend to admire women like that, and yet dealing with them can be frustrating.

I have to admit I’ve had my frustrations with my daughters and the independent decisions they made. Back when they first started wearing the niqab (the black face-covering) I remember mentioning something to my doctor at the time. She was also my daughters’ doctor, a lovely Chinese Canadian named Dr. Feng. (She moved to Edmonton and boy do we all miss her!)

But when I said my remarks about my daughters’ decision funnily enough Dr. Feng defended them, saying something about leave them be, they’d thought it through and they were fine strong-minded girls.

Writing Wanting Mor was the final way of understanding my daughters’ decision, and yet when I was talking Shelagh I was wondering, what did I do, or didn’t do to raise such strong girls? Or was it my hubby? Or was it both of our doing? Or was it just their own doing?

Strong girls don’t seem to get raised in a vacuum.

Doesn’t someone have to take credit?

I mean here are three daughters who completely bucked peer pressure, in fact went in quite the opposite direction.

I see SO many Muslim girls cave under pressure. For a while some of my daughters were no exception. For a while one or two of them wore their hijab open at the neck and when I accosted them about it, we had a very interesting conversation. She said, “Haven’t I reached the age of puberty?”

I said, “Yes.”

She said, “Then aren’t I accountable to Allah for the way I dress?”

I said, “Yes.”

She said, “Would you rather I wore it properly in front of you and then when I got to school, I opened it up?”

I said, “No.”

She said, “Then you have to leave it up to me. At least I’m wearing it.”

I couldn’t argue with her on that, but I couldn’t resist adding, “But you do know you’re not wearing it right? And you do know that you won’t be fully rewarded for it because you’re not doing it right?”

She said, “Yes.”

So I left her alone.

Her logic was irrefutable.

I guess it showed a spark of the kind of strength that would definitely show up later.

And then on top of these musings, the other day, a dear friend told me an observation she’d made. She’s an intermediate teacher in the public school system and we were at the Islamic school for a career day. She said that the girls in the Islamic school seemed to be so much stronger-minded than girls in the public school system.

Personally I hadn’t noticed any difference, but she said, no, definitely, they raise their hands to answer questions, even more than the boys, and they spoke their mind no matter what the boys thought.

The only difference I’ve seen in the Islamic school and regular school system is the dress code and the religious instruction.

I said to my friend that maybe the fact that the dress code meant that their sexuality had been taken out of the equation was a reason for the girls to be stronger.

I really don’t know.

My friend said that she’d seen strong, confident girls that she’d taught in grades three and four wither by the time they got to grade seven and eight.

And then I thought about how I’d seen that too!

Why is this happening? Aren’t all the strong women role models enough to show these girls that they don’t have to be cowed by the disparaging remarks the boys at school make about the size of their butts?

Can anyone deny the allure of all the girl power books out there designed to boost our daughters’ self esteem?

All the Xena Warrior princesses with their twirly boob armour and their high kicks and the women assassins in Terminator 3 and other ninja movies.

Why are our girls still withering?

I really don’t have any answers.

If my daughters turned out strong-minded, it might very well have been a fluke.

I take no credit. But still… I am rather proud of them.

Sometimes, when they come over and they’re congregating upstairs in the spare room, having their tea and cake, and my little granddaughter and grandson are cavorting around, delighting everyone, I look at my girls and thank God they’re strong.

I have a feeling they’ll need to be in the years to come.