Activist Feature: This Saudi Woman Created The Hijab Emoji At The Age of Sixteen
Rayouf Alhumedhi
is a product designer who is using her design skills for good. In 2016, she started the hijab emoji project, successfully creating and campaigning for a hijab emoji that would spark fruitful dialogue and help other Muslim women feel seen and represented. She has since appeared on the Forbes 30 under 30 list, been nominated as one of Time's Most Influential Teens, and been featured in The Emoji Story, a documentary that premiered at Tribeca Film Festival.
Learn more about Rayouf’s work here.
As a digital designer, how do you see misogyny, Islamophobia, and other forms of prejudice being perpetuated in digital spaces?
In my early teenage years, I actually found that digital spaces to be incredibley formative in introducing me to social justice causes. Through these spaces, I was able to teach myself understandings of feminist and racial studies. As odd as it may sound, it was Tumblr that first introduced me to Edward Said's work, leading me to read 'Orientalism' and deepen my grasp of how the Arab world is perceived by the West. There’s a sincere pocket of the internet where learning can thrive.
The anonymity of online spaces fosters a significant amount of free and uninhibited thought. However, I've also witnessed this same anonymity being misused to propagate misogyny and Islamophobia without any apparent concern for the consequences.
Since 2016, my outlook has become increasingly optimistic regarding the changing narratives about Muslims and Muslim women, especially as more of us assume roles in politics, media, and technology. Yet, the recent rise of Islamophobia in digital spaces remains a profound concern. On my own very campus at Stanford University, there was an incident that reflected the grave dangers of prejudice that desters online. A few months ago, a truck was seen driving around campus displaying a message in Arabic that translated to “will shoot Arabs” This occurred in mid-October, coinciding with the early days of Israel's intense bombing of Gaza. Such alarming anti-Arab rhetoric often originates online, where many individuals, who likely have never interacted with a Palestinian, Arab, or Muslim, are influenced by selective news sources that perpetuate damaging stereotypes. The serious danger of allowing Islamophobia to spread unchecked in digital environments is the real-world harm it can cause, as tragically evidenced by the shooting of two Palestinian students in Vermont.
What are some common myths and misconceptions about the hijab that you are hoping to help dispel?
In 2016, while living in Berlin during the refugee crisis, I closely observed the rheteoric surrounding Germany's substantial intake of refugees from various Muslim countries, including Syria. During this period, there was a surge in Islamophobia, heavily propagated by far-right groups. A prevalent stereotype was the portrayal of Muslim men as "barbaric" and their women as "oppressed. The hijab became a focal point of this narrative, used as a justification for the claim that Muslim women lack autonomy in choosing their attire. This notion deeply discomforted me as it was direct tension of my own lived experiences. I reflected on the matriachs in my family who were the headscarf with pride, and felt a disconnect between how the public discourse of the headscarf and what it actually meant to me. This disconnect, I realized, stemmed from the absence of Muslim women in discussions and decision-making processes that concern them. The root problem was a glaring lack of representation.
I felt compelled to challenge the pervasive belief that all Muslim women lack agency and to dispel the idea that we are a monolithic group. Viewing us as such is not only deeply flawed but also continues a one-dimensional perception that is all too common for many people of color, regardless of their achievements, accolades, and successes. As a hijab wearer, I am acutely aware that it's often the first thing people notice about me. My aim was to confront this "one-dimensional" perception
In challenging this, I also do not dismiss that there are Muslim women who aresubjugated to practices that hinder their freedom of choice. However, claiming that all 500 million women who wear the headscarf are oppressed is an overly simplistic and reductive view It's this kind of reasoning that fosters a misguided moral justification for advocating the ban of the hijab in numerous European countries.
Why did you select the emoji as the vehicle to share your message with the world?
I was captivated by the idea of using emoji as a tool for representing the hijab for three main reasons: their playfulness, their representation of technological advancement, and their extensive reach.
There’s an inherent charm and playfulness in emojis. They are simple to use, often acting as a shorthand to convey emotions. This aspect of 'play' and 'delight' is rarely, if ever, associated with the hijab. Many opposers of the hijab might even argue it contradicts the very nature of the hijab. However, in my daily life, wearing a hijab is as routine as using an emoji – both are straightforward and “apolitical.” I do not actively view myself as a “hijabi” and it’s just part of my day to day. This simplicity is reflected in an emoji.
Secondly, the representation of emojis as symbols of 'tech-forwardness' challenges the stereotype of the hijab as an 'outdated' piece of clothing. I deeply appreciated the dichotomy of the two that it offers.
Now, while I do not intend to compose a thesis that details the future of emoji, their significance and reach as a linguistic tool cannot be overlooked. They are often a child’s first “language” or “words” before it an actual language. Of course, whether emoji are a language is debatable, but what is not, is that there Whether or not emojis constitute a language is a matter of debate, but their widespread use is indisputable. With approximately 7 billion smartphone users engaging with emojis, I was drawn that the the hijab emoji could be on so many phones. .
What can we do, as individuals, to make our digital spaces more inclusive?
Our digital spaces are shaped by content creators, and as consumers of this content, so I urge each of us to thoughtfully consider what we consume and who creates it. With the prevalent use of recommendation algorithms by most digital platforms, those decisions are often made for us. I encourage everyone to take active control of their media consumption. The media we indulge ourselves in significantly molds our perceptions of the world, our understanding of various social groups, and attitudes towards issues like prejudice. I believe that the lack of control over these recommendations and our consumption habits greatly contribute to leading young individuals, particularly boys, towards the "manosphere" – an online space notorious for perpetuating misogyny. As such, I believe the need for a more deliberate approach to our media consumption is more important than ever before.
Can you tell us about the process of creating and proposing the hijab emoji?
During August 2016, just before starting 10th grade, I was scrolling on Mashable, where I stumbled on an article that detailed that surprisngly bureaucratic process of creating an emoji. Just a month earlier, in a rather naive move, I had sent an email to Apple's customer support, proposing the addition of a headscarf emoji. It's crucial to note that I referred to it as the "headscarf" emoji because my vision encompassed a symbol representing all women who wear headscarves, be they Muslim, Jewish, or Christian.
After learning about how to actually create an emoji, I reserved two days in my bedroom to write a 10-paged proposal of why this emoji should be implemented. I submitted it to the Unicode Consortium, the body responsible for standardizing keyboard characters, and anxiously awaited a response. After a few days, I received a response from Jenny 8. Lee, a member of the Unicode Emoji sub-comittee and worked with her to make the application as robust as possible.
The next step was to campaign. I interviewed with CNN, BBC, and several other outlets to share my story and the importance of representation. I also collaborated with Alexis Ohanian, co-founder of Reddit on the proposal and did an Ask Me Anything on Reddit.
I was invited to pitch my idea in person in San Jose, California, and at the same time, was a subject of the documentary ‘The Emoji Story.” One week later, I learned that it was approved, and that it would be released a year later. When it was finally released, I updated my phone with my family and the film crew who gathered in the living room. We all cheered in excitement of finally seeing my proposal come to fruition!
My journey led me to San Jose, California, where I was given the opportunity to pitch my idea in person to Unicode. Concurrently, I became a subject of the documentary 'The Emoji Story.' Just a week after my presentation, I received the exciting news: the headscarf emoji was approved and would be released the following year. When release day finally arrived, I eagerly updated my phone, surrounded by my family and the documentary crew in our living room. Together, we cheered, reveling in the realization of a whole year of work.
What feedback did you receive from the public when the hijab emoji was officially released?
From the outset of media attention, I was acutely aware of the sensational nature of my story: a 15-year-old Saudi, Muslim girl championing a headscarf emoji. Each of those identifiers together made for a good story. I soon found myself featured on the covers of Berlin newspapers, where the headlines claimed me as one of their own, reading “Berliner creates the hijab emoji.”
I was profoundly warmed by the love that the emoji received once it was released. It garnered a flood of supportive messages from young hijabi women worldwide, from Indonesia to Pakistan, expressing how meaningful it was to feel represented. This sense of representation in the mass media is indescribably powerful; for many, including myself, it's a source of validation. The positive responses online were overwhelming and had also translated into real-life. A few years after the emoji was released, I was walking in Vienna’s city center and passed by an Apple store that was soon to be opened. Inside, I saw a hijabi Apple employee excitedly waving at me through the window, I wave back in equal excitement, not knowing quite what it is we were excited about. Later that day, I receive a message from her, where she expressed her deep gratitude for the emoji, a simple yet powerful symbol that resonated with her and many others.
On the other hand, there was, of course, a group of detractors, ranging from predictable internet trolls to politicians It was quite easy to ignore the former. However, otheres were more concerning. A right-winged Austrian politician had reposted my nomination as one Time’s Most Influential teens on his Facebook page and capitioned it with “Insanity.” This sparked a torrent of Islamophobic criticism in the comments section. Another instance of the negativity directed towards the emoji was a hate letter I received at my home. It began with the harsh words "You do nothing for this world," written in German. The letter went on to imply that I should be thankful for the chance to live in Austria, rather than being deported to Yemen (I am from Saudi Arabia.)
What would an ideal, intersectional feminist future look like to you?
My firm belief is that true intersectional feminism requires a deep conviction that our freedom is inextricably linked to the freedom of women worldwide.Those of us with the privilege of time, safety, and resources bear a significant responsibility to support others. For example, as a privileged Stanford student enjoying certain freedoms, it's imperative that I use these advantages to aid Palestinian women facing displacement, and severe shortages, including a lack of menstrual products. Of the 1.9 million displaced Palestinians, around a million are women and girls. With over 3,000 widows and women relying on old fabrics instead of period pads, the situation is dire. Two mothers die every hour, and the only functioning maternity hospital in northern Gaza is on the brink of running out of fuel, its resupply hindered by ongoing insecurity.
To merely bask in my unearned privilege without acting would be a disservice to the very essence of the education I am receiving. It's disheartening to witness the cognitive dissonance that exists between feminists in the West with dire issues happening in the Middle East. It's not just about raising awareness; it's about actively contributing to change and ensuring that feminism includes all women, regardless of their geography or circumstances. This is the commitment of intersectional feminism I embrace.
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