A sneak peek at Samra Habib’s new memoir We Have Always Been Here.

Samra Habib on finding herself and her style, one jacket at a time.

MY FIRST PART-TIME job was at a bargain store owned by a middle-aged Saudi man and his teenage son. They reminded me of my dad, who despite being loud and commanding was frightened of women who projected strength and confidence. Nothing flustered him more than a powerful female who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. At thirteen, I was already starting to realize that this was the type of woman I should aspire to be. The store was next door to a Goodwill, where I had gone with my dad to get back-to-school clothes. I was starting ninth grade in the fall, and my bedroom wall was covered with cut-outs from Zellers flyers and catalogues: flowy silk blouses, corduroy pants, Doc Martens, plaid shirts, and vinyl trench coats that would all complement the hijab my parents insisted I start wearing when I entered high school. I was not going to

let the head cover get in the way of being stylish. At the time, that seemed like a bigger challenge than it does now. Although we couldn’t afford to shop at Zellers, my personal mood board guided my shopping choices at Goodwill.

I had a specific look in mind to ensure that this new school year would be different for me. I was still recovering from a social setback that past spring. I was supposed to have received a drama award at my middle-school graduation, and my mother had bought me a special outfit from a flea market for the occasion: velour bell-bottoms and an oversized T-shirt that read “Take Me Back to Trinidad” in bright red letters. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t want to wear it. Instead, I lied about being sick and skipped my graduation.

The truth was, I was tired of being bullied. I wanted to make friends, be accepted, and get on with my life already. So when I noticed a help