“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS WEAR A HEADSCARF?”

Continuing a little series here, of answering questions that I was recently asked. You might have been wondering too, about why I chose to become a Sikh and dress in this way. Read about why here.

I just came back from India, and while I do not only wear a turban + headscarf while I am there, but also in the day to day, I shared a lot of photos of me in what is known as “full bana”—full religious or spiritual dress.

You might have been wondering what it is about or why I chose to become a Sikh and dress in this way. A few days ago, I shared another post about some of my reasons for choosing to become a Sikh (read it here). Today I am sharing more specifically about the head covering, and why I choose to do it.

I’m actually not asked this question as often as I thought I would be, when I decided to start wearing a turban. But when someone does ask, I’m always reminded that, right, it must be confusing for those who don’t know why. And I actually appreciate the courage that it takes to inquire about other people’s lives.

(I feel like we are in a time when it’s often considered impolite, or people are downright afraid to be cancelled or called out for “not being informed”—a culture that I’m really not a fan of, as I believe curiosity and staying open is the number one quality of compassion and creating connections. And how can you stay informed if you are not allowed to question? Right, right, the people questioned are tired of explaining, but then we kind of end up at a dead end, where cultures separate, and everyone stick “with their own kind”, because they are afraid of making a mistake.)

So why do I cover my head? The short answer is because I am a baptist’s Sikh. But there’s so much more that I want to answer than that, and I was also wearing a turban (although occasionally) before I was a Sikh.

I got baptized as a Sikh in October 2023, in Amritsar, India. Before that I had spend several years studying Sikhi, and also received guidance from my teachers, who are also Sikhs.

In many religions women are encouraged to dress modestly or cover their bodies and their hair. There can be different intentions for that, like fx. the outer beauty of a woman should not outshine the inner beauty; to not distract or cause attention in religious places and settings, where the focus should be on the spiritual practice; to protect the woman’s dignity; or that body and hair is considered sacred and therefore should be kept hidden. Or simply: “because God said so”.

These reasons might make sense to you, or they might not.

In Sikhi (and please, this is my understanding and should not be considered as a religious discourse), men and women are equal, and there is no distinction between the bana of a Sikh man and woman. Though many women, especially nowadays, choose to cover their head with a headscarf only (chunni, or also sometimes called a dupatta), and few wear turbans. Sikhi has also been adapted and modified, and not all Sikhs wear Bana or cover their hair or keep Kesh (uncut hair).

If you are a baptized Sikh (also called a Khalsa or an Amritdhari Sikh) you are supposed to be identifiable, and you keep certain virtues and codes of conduct. That is what it means to join the order of the Khalsa. When you commit yourself to the Guru, you also commit to wearing and doing certain things (if not, then what would be the point of such a ceremony?) When I “took Amrit”, I committed to covering my head, and wear the five Ks (I will share more about these in the next post).

These directives were not given “simply because”. They are a technology, and are designed to bring a person to a certain state of consciousness. In 1699, when Guru Gobind Singh created the order of the Khalsa, asking people to wear the turban was an act of revolution and was giving people power and freedom. At that time only certain casts were allowed to wear a turban, and by giving his people the technology of the turban, he offered them not only the opportunity to take on a courageous act and to “crown themselves”, but also a yogic technology for energy and spiritual advancement.

There is a practical element of wearing a turban, when you are not cutting your hair (it’s called ‘keeping kesh’ and means never to cut any hair on all of your body, which I haven’t done since almost the last 10 years), to keep it clean and in place, and wearing a turban also brings all the bones of the skull together, which gives focus, energy and stimulates the brain (try it, and see how you feel).

This is also why simply wearing a hat, and I would argue as well even just a head scarf, isn’t really enough to fully get the benefits of the technology.

A turban is supposed to be tied, not just put on like a hat. It’s an act that takes time, can even feel inconvenient at times (which helps strengthen my sense of commitment), and which creates a distinct appearance.

To me as a westerner, the turban has been one of the most transformative aspects on my path. I haven’t received much negative feedback, and also I don’t care that much what others think, but the transition of dressing for spiritual purposes, rather than fashion or “to fit in”, has been so interesting. And at times really challenging.

I think many people don’t really know, why they pick the clothes or the hairstyle they do. Maybe some know why, but also the typical answer will be “because I like it”. Yes, but why do you like it? Why does it make you feel the way you feel? What does it signal? What’s the message you are sending to others? Who does it make you feel like you belong with? How does it make other people react to you or treat you? What are there benefits to dressing how you do? What do you gain? What do you reject?

Our clothing choices is an accumulation of the answers to all of these questions (and many more than I can’t even think of right now), and it might only be when we dress radically different, that we actually notice how much information is in clothes and outer appearance. And how much it can change how we interact with the world around us.

Well, I’ve been going through that transformation, and quite radically from one day to the next, and it’s been a ride at times. Mostly emotionally, because I discovered how much I used clothes, to regulate myself and my mood + how other people see me. That isn’t as easy when you wear bana, and I have had days where I simply “wasn’t in the mood”. I have had to discover what deep commitment then means. And find all my reasons, for why I chose how I did (and sometimes simply saying to myself “okay then don’t do it, don’t wear a turban” only to then feel a “but I WANT to!”)

Why do I want to? Because of the technology behind it. I feel more focused, more awake, more put together. I am building my energy field through commitment. People trust someone who doesn’t change appearance all the time (which is why uniforms were created). I also wear it as a challenge to myself, to test my faith and commitment. To commit daily to who I want to be + everything that comes with it.

By now the turban is part of me + my look, and I don’t feel I am struggling with this part of my commitment anymore. It is still a way of signaling to the world—there’s no denying that—but to me it feels less emotional and reactive. It helps me cultivate those qualities within too.

There’s a sense of freedom in not having to discuss with myself every day, who I am, what I could become, and the desire for constant change, and sub sequentially boredom that comes once I’m “done” with a look.

Not saying that everyone feels this way—remember I’m talking about my own process here—but for me there has been great freedom in both the commitment to “one look” + in dressing modest, and not having any unwanted sexual attention. The energetic exchange I have with people is typically a lot more elevated than before. Either because I don’t just blend in, and people notice and sometimes have an elevated experience through noticing, or because they don’t notice in any particular way, and the energy is just neutral. But the exchange is never based on desire or sexual tension. Which I find a great liberation. I’m just not interested in that from others, and I also think it contributes to a kinder and more uplifting environment, when that kind of energy and tension isn’t present.

Changing how I dress, has been an incredible tool to discover the subtleties in how humans exchange non-verbal communication all the time, what kind of messaging is in our appearance + has been a tool to elevate myself daily. It is not without its challenges. It might just not be the experience that everyone is looking for, and therefore not relevant as a tool for everybody, but to me it has been a testament to the intelligence and technology that the Gurus (enlightened masters) brought to their people, and I am simply grateful that I have found my way to it in this lifetime (again).

A few “Outfit Of The Day” photos from India. There is a reason behind why I share my looks on Instagram—it’s not just vanity. I feel like I am contributing in expanding perceptions of what is possible, and it is my hope that it will help others feel like they are “allowed” to dress however they want and feel, and also question the norms and stigmas around dressing. That intention has already been done in many ways, but I think the elevated form where it isn’t so much about rebellion or being provocative in a way that stimulates the lower chakras, is something original.