“hiking is for me”

6 min read

INCLUSION OUTDOORS

Raadia Imran explains how finding a hillwalking group on Instagram helped her discover a passion for the outdoors she never knew existed.

Raadia takes a break next to Llyn Cau on her way up Cadair Idris, wearing the hijab that she once saw as a barrier to exploring the great outdoors.

I grew up against the concrete backdrop of inner-city life. And truth be told, I loved it! My life was bubbled around my hometown; my experiences here shaping my likes and interests. I looked forward to Saturdays walking around the city centre with my mum, which later turned into town trips with friends as a teen.

I was happy with my daily scenery; I enjoyed the comfort and convenience of urban life. I didn’t long for peace and quiet or to be surrounded by nature. My local park had it covered if I fancied a bit of greenery.

Interestingly, my father is the opposite and can only be described as an avid hiker and wild camping enthusiast. My siblings and I, however, did not share this same thirst for getting outdoors. The suggestion of a family afternoon of hillwalking was often met with a begrudging sigh and a lot of eye-rolling. Perhaps the only redeeming feature of these countryside days was stopping mid-hike and indulging in the picnic my mum had packed. My mother is Pakistani, and she would ensure that every outdoor excursion was accompanied with two large Thermoses filled with sweet, milky chai.

The weather always seemed to be too cold, the drive was always too far, and the walking boots were always too heavy. Looking back now, I think it was this overriding sense of discomfort that played a big part in not being able to feel at ease while outdoors. I’ve always enjoyed styling outfits, and the feeling of being ‘put together’ helped me to feel more confident when I left the house. But I was at a loss during those afternoons, in the middle of nowhere, wearing clothes I felt awkward and frumpy in.

My dad prioritised practicality and he kitted my sisters and I out in too-large raincoats and clunky, brown lace-up hiking boots. We would laugh at each other in our ridiculous get-up, feeling embarrassed wearing baggy waterproofs and rucksacks.

Now throw wearing a hijab (Islamic headscarf) into this mix, and it made my sisters and I feel even more self-conscious. Growing up, we didn’t have the same representation that exists now: there weren’t social media images and videos celebrating active, Muslim females proudly wearing hijab. We simply didn’t see modestly dressed women of different ethnic backgrounds, who were also running or hiking outdoors.

“We felt the stares”

For my sisters and I, wearing the hijab clashed with this active lifestyle. We struggled to see how the two cou

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