THAT CAME when I reached college. I suddenly had the freedom to party and socialize. That freedom, however, also brought me one dilemma after another. While my upbringing taught me precaution, the ethos on campus was to live life. While I was boxed in by rules before, I was now being urged to make my own rules.

	BUILDERS OF PEACE. Muslim women can become pillars of harmony in communities ravaged by war and conflict.

My response in part was to widen my search for myself. I met atheists who questioned God and all the fundamentals of existence. I attended masses, learned of the Christian faith. I read alternative literature aside from the religious text. Yet as I searched, I had one tangible evidence of my Muslim identity: my hijab, which I began wearing at age 17. I had made the decision to wear one on my own, without any parental prodding, without a mullah lecture, without pressure from my peers. I had read through the Qu'ran and saw in there the rationale for the veil. Rather than being segregationist or purist, the hijab is an acknowledgement that women can work alongside any individual, male or non-Muslim. I do not have to be judged based on my physical appearance, even as my hijab makes me aware that I have to be "good" to earn my keep for the afterlife.

I have since noticed that others wear the veil as a matter of convenience or culture, with the hijab taking on different nuances, depending on the wearer's community or tribe. Women of the Tausug tribe wear their caps with sequins, those in Maguindanao prefer colored nets, and the Maranao go for the full triangular cover. Others match their veils with eyes heavy with eyeliner. Western Muslim ladies I have met seem more conservative alongside our own; they have no colored veils and there is no strand of hair peeping out of their hijab.

Wearing the veil, of course, is just one symbol, just one of the many experiences, of being a Muslim woman. Yet public discussions regarding Muslim women rarely go beyond our head covering. And in public discussions, we are usually rendered voiceless.

It's a given that there seems to be a segregation of the sexes, where women are defined and respected for their role in the domestic sphere. Even those who are educated and well-traveled among us find that when they speak outside of that sphere, their voices are not always heard. Sometimes that may be because they are put in "their place." In Maranao public events, for instance, young women are usually found in the kitchen, in another side of the room separate from the men, and are rarely part of political discussions.

In a way, someone also tried to put me in my place, or at least what he thought that should be, on a business trip I took to Baguio. One bearded religious leader there asked me why I travel without the traditional mahram (a chaperone, because women are discouraged from traveling alone). I told him that if men were doing my media work, I need not do this. I was trying hard not to retort rudely.

BUT THINGS may be starting to change. Just last March, a young women's forum was held for the first time at MSU to celebrate international women's month. Many young women and even men came to listen to women speakers and students in veil talk freely about sex-and the lack of knowledge about it. Gender and sex were differentiated. Social stereotyping and assigning of roles was exposed. We even shook our body and exercised to let loose. For once, we were having something besides the traditional seminar/lecture that has become the most acceptable form of public discourse among Muslims.

So there we were, even talking about early and arranged marriages. I felt thankful for my open-minded parents, who consulted us if they were choosing partners for us. In Maranao tradition, the parents do the search for prospective spouses for their children, and arrange the unions among themselves, often without asking the ones who are to be married. Oftentimes the couples are not prepared emotionally and intellectually for the kind of responsibility marriages entail, but that does not seem to matter to the elders.

Someone I know married at 18; she is now 31. She managed to finish college, but has been unable to use her education to have a career of her own. She thought she would be happy taking care of her family, but she lapsed into depression. I think because of an overdose of cultural obedience, she simply forgot all about herself.

Muslim youths today — male and female — aspire to be educated and useful to their communities and beyond. Medical student Naheeda Dimacisil of Laguna expresses her distaste over some Muslim men who still do not see the "equality with women in responsibilities," which includes seeking knowledge.

A study done by Xavier University found that religion, family, education, and work, were the top priorities of Muslim youths. It further found that young people thought that education is important because it is seen as a vehicle for social mobility, a way to escape poverty, and a means to help others.

Many also want to become among the best in their fields to "dispel the negative image of Islam." Ateneo de Davao freshman law student Sahara Aliongan says she hopes to become the first Muslim woman to top the bar exams. Then she plans to "write a book and change the negative views of people about Muslims."

Many Muslims criticize the media for the negative and simplistic portrayal of their communities. For many Filipinos, it would seem "Muslim" has become synonymous with terrorists, criminals, bandits, and the Abu Sayyaf. Many among our countrymen ignore the complexities of tribal differences, the difference between a religion and its followers, and other such nuances.

For us Muslim women, the struggle is twofold: we struggle against the discrimination foisted upon us within our own communities, and we struggle against the Muslim stereotype when we step out of the confines of our family and tribe.

MARAWI CITY Council Jehanne Mutin-Mapupuno says part of the problem is the lack of a Muslim role model. "There are no successful Muslim personalities featured on radio or TV," she says. "Young Muslims don't have positive (role) models to identify with or an association of peers they can relate to."

She's not really off the mark. After all, the top broadcast news organizations have just begun adding knowledge of Muslim concerns among their criteria for new recruits. And there is still that pressure from elders for youths to pursue non-arts courses.

But while the media have yet to offer a model for Muslims, there are already the likes of women's rights activist and cancer survivor Yasmin Busran-Lao of Lanao del Sur to show us the way. Busran-Lao is a recognized advocate for reforms in the Shariah legal system, where men have interpreted the laws. She has received the Ninoy Aquino Public Service award, and was featured not only on the Sunday Inquirer but also on CNN. There is also Sulu's Warina Jukuy, an outspoken spitfire, who filed for candidacy for the gubernatorial post of the Autonomous Region for Muslim Mindanao although she thinks her chances of winning are .00001 percent. So why even try? Her response: just to show the corruption within the system.

Peace advocate Minang Sharief Dirampatan, meanwhile, is a professor and theater artist who has become a fixture at the MSU, which she has called home for the last 25 years. She has also served as mentor and guide to many outstanding MSU youths.

Dirampatan and Busran-Lao were of a generation that segregated Muslim men and women in communities and prioritized men over women when it came to schooling. They broke tradition. They have also nurtured a new generation of thinkers and idealists among Mindanao's youth. Though Dirampaten at 58 may not be as mobile as before, she mentors others so that the ideas of peace and human rights trickle down to younger, more energetic advocates.

Women like Dirampatan are in my thoughts as I continue my journey. I also think, since most of the world's conflicts today involve Muslims, it is imperative that Muslim women become promoters of peace even at the village level. They should direct their energies to peacebuilding, which includes conflict resolution, advocacy, and governance. Working for peace can also include teaching the values of peace, promoting interfaith dialogue, and peace journalism and research.

It is work worth devoting one's life to.