The Power of Asalamu Alaikum

Asalamu aliakum, y’all,

I really want to think about that greeting. Asalamu alaikum. It is such an integral part of being a Muslim. We use it endless times during the day, in our prayers, our dhikr and in our dealings with others. It is a tool of peace, words of kindness and good wishes. With this simple phrase we are making a dua, a plea, to Allah, asking for peace for whomever it is we wish it towards. It is profound and when returned upon us, it is a form of deeper communication than mere words can express. Exchanging this greeting with another is a means of tying us back to generations past, leading all the way to The Prophet salahu alaihi wa salam. It encompasses the very hope that many have when coming to Islam and it provides the comfort of inclusion when lonely and needy. Thus I would like to start with a Command from Giver of Peace about the greeting of peace…

“When you are greeted with a greeting, greet in return with what is better than it, or (at least) return it equally…” (Surah An-Nisa: verse 86)

Contemplating this quote, I am reminded that not returning the salams one is given is haram. And I suspect that it is none too difficult for most to ascertain why this is, and here we get to the negatives of this powerful greeting. How many times have I been out, with my young and impressionable son in tow, and have given my salams to a muslimah only to be given a dirty look or ignored completely? How many sisters do I know who have been through the same experience, or worse? I know sisters, yes more than one, who have been asked to recite the shahada before a salam was returned. Or told outright that they couldn’t be real Muslims because of: their race, their clothing, their ‘sect’, the scholars they study with, the list seems endless.

So when my son and I went to a Tim Horton’s yesterday before hitting the meat shop, I was hesitant to give salams to an older woman who was working there. Sulay and I walked in and she was the first person we saw, and we smiled at each other, but I just didn’t have the strength to put myself out there, especially with my son in tow. So I just smiled. Smiled and regretted not giving salams, but also regretted not giving this sister the benefit of the doubt, which is one of her rights over me, as her sister in the deen. Ten minutes later, enjoying a cuppa while Sulay ploughed into a bagel and crème cheese, over she walked and in a very strong voice said ‘asalamu aliakum sister’ to which I gratefully replied and had a short conversation with her. When I asked her how her day was going, she seemed genuinely surprised, and gleefully happy, that I had asked. I wondered how often she is overlooked. How many times have her salams have been ignored? Probably, if she is like too many sisters I know, it’s too often.

The harm in not returning a greeting of salam is obvious. And we can level all of the spiritually bypassing platitudes of ‘well, it’s her haram and she will have to atone for it’ that we want, but it doesn’t actually repair the hurt, or the damage, that this ignorance creates. Not returning a salam seems to me almost as though the offender is making a takfir upon the greeter. It’s not much of a stretch of imagination really. If someone refuses to return your salam, based on whatever reason, they must on some level think you are not actually Muslim. And this is a scary thought. It’s bringing the worst of Islamic extremist thought, based upon the teachings of the so called salafi ‘scholars’ (I use the word scholar so hesitantly that I almost gagged while typing it) into our daily life, our daily actions. I have known sisters who have literally removed themselves from community life completely as a way to avoid this brush off, which at best is embarrassing and at worst so much more. It damages the spirit, it isolates, and it suggests that the one giving the greeting is somehow unworthy or lesser. It suggests that the one whose salam is being ignored is not actually part of the Ummah.

What’s the solution? Education, of course. That’s always the easy answer, isn’t it? I for one have decided, thanks to that sister at the coffee shack, that I am always going to give salams from now on. I took that kindness at Timmies as a sign from the One Who Gives Signs, and I am going to roll with it. When I am ignored I am going to call the sister to task. I may not make a scene, but I am going to chastise the sister who ignores me or gives me the dirty look. I am going to quote Quran at her and I am going to remind her, in as diplomatic a tone as I can muster, that it is part of our deen, part of loving the One Who Loves, to return the greeting. It’s all I can do.

Wishing you Love and Light…

t.k

The Muslim, I mean, Grinch Who Stole Christmas

Asalamu aliakum y’all,

It’s that time of year again, the time of year when western Muslims must decide whether we want to be the verbally stingy grinch, sucking the joy out of other people’s holiday fun, or whether we want to be festive good neighbours. I am not sure when the whole trend of ‘happy holidays’ began or who with. I know that there are Jewish folk who have kicked up a fuss at being wished a ‘merry Christmas’ as I’ve witnessed it in the not too distant past, and I surely know that there are Muslims who also make a big hoo-ha out of nothing on this issue. So I feel like I want to share some very opinionated thoughts on the subject, hoping to not offend anyone too much in the process, as it seems we have all become very touchy feely in our aim for political correctness on this topic. Sadly.

One of the most positive khutbas I have ever experienced here in cowtown, and sadly one of the few i’ve attended that the congregation wasn’t scream at, threatened or manipulated in some manner, was a sermon that happened to land on the 24th of December. The imam, a well known screamer from a village overseas, delivered a short, powerful message of love for our non Muslim neighbours. He encouraged the congregation to wish friends and neighbours a Merry Christmas and to visit them during their holiday festivities. I was shocked! I was inspired! And yes, I was really confused!

This totally Islamic message of peace and goodwill and community spirit was in total contradiction to the ridiculous messages of intolerance and petty prejudices that too many Muslims, including some well known pop shayuk, have been preaching through the years. You know the ones I mean; the same ones that tell you Halloween is about worshipping Satan. (Please read a big eye roll right here). They tell you that you should be offended and outraged if, living here in this predominantly Christian country, someone has the nerve to wish you a Merry Christmas. Oooo, how dare they! And so there has been this bizarre politically correct movement to force Christians, whether they are cultural or actually practicing matters not, to abandon their traditional seasonal greetings of joy in order to assuage the insecurities of others.

Can you imagine for one minute being a Christian in Lebanon or Egypt and demanding that Muslims no longer wish everyone ‘eid mubarak’ on the appropriate festive days? They would be beaten in the streets, to say the least. And yet we expect, out of total arrogance and prejudice, for people to kowtow to our needs or wants on this issue.

I would suggest that if it offends you when someone, in all good intention, wishes you a Merry Christmas, that perhaps your eman is weak. Because if you are strong in your love for Allah and His Messenger, then you should want for those around you to be joyous, happy and at ease, not worrying about hurting your poor little feelings. If you are strong in your eman, then you know that belting out a Merry Christmas to someone is a fun way to do dawa. It is a way to spread the love, darn it!

Let’s face it: no one is forcing you to drink the eggnog with the rum in it! No one is claiming that a couple of holiday salutations are going to make you doubt your faith and go running to the nearest church! And it is not as if Allah doesn’t know your intentions and what resides in your heart anyhow. So please have some fun this Christmas season, and LIGHTEN UP!

‘Tis the season to be merry, after all….

Stop Me if You Think That You’ve Heard This One Before…

I aim to make this my last blog posting that deals with the topic of hijab. It may not be, but I hope like anything that it’s something I won’t have to delve into again. It just makes so many people hot under the collar, whether they have a right to be or not, whether the issue concerns them or not. The only reason I’m even going to write about it in this post is that I have come to some personal conclusions about the issue that I want to explore in the written form, and I have had some interesting experiences with the Muslim community whilst journeying on this road of self discovery. Not all of them pleasant, supportive or positive.

I am not going to waste any more of my time writing about the opinions I’ve encountered from non Muslims on this topic. Apart from my family, whose opinions I value above all other living souls, I don’t really care what non Muslims think about the subject. And I am not interested in the various positions that people take when discussing the issue in the television or print media; those who hate women who cover will never change their minds and those who support them should be praised up and down and valued for their true support of democracy and women’s freedom of choice. I have encountered both, personally, as well as what I’ve viewed in the public forum. For the life of me, I can not figure out how this issue concerns non Muslims, particularly men, at all, but realize it’s an issue of controversy and a way in which media outlets can garner attention and make moola. But there is not much more ridiculous than listening to a bunch of non Muslim men discuss the topic, it makes me roll with laughter every time I witness it. As far as Muslim men discussing it, I really wish they would stop that. Again, it doesn’t concern them and I am not going to expend any more energy discussing what a bunch of people who will never wear it think. Sorry to be rude, but that’s just the way it is.

My own personal struggle in living with hijab began two summers ago. At that point I had worn traditional full hijab in some form or other for about nine years, give or take. Full coverage, to varying degrees, day in, day out. Rarely with any contemplation about it, other than ‘how big is it going to be today?’ About two years ago, I started to do some serious study, not specifically on hijab but on contextual Islamic legal issues and how they relate to modern western Muslims. This, of course, got me to thinking. About everything in general, but hijab in particular. Is it relevant? Is it necessary? Leaving aside the ahadith, which are hit and miss as far as authenticity, what does Allah say on the subject? What do trustworthy, educated, western scholars say about it? And finally, how do I really feel about hijab, in any of it’s forms, and what does it mean to me? What does it say about me if I wear it? If I don’t? Over time, I worked through all of these questions and came to some surprising conclusions. I even spent time experimenting with various non traditional head coverings, some of which I really like some not so much.

I began to really open my eyes to the Muslim community and the respect, or lack there of, that a woman garners based on how she covers. And the assumptions that go along with it. To immigrant Muslims and older Muslims, sisters who dress traditionally are non threatening and therefore treated kindly. Sisters who do not cover or who dress non traditionally in their coverage are often marginalized in the community, ostracized and worse. At the same time I have met many younger, non wahhabi, Muslims who feel more comfortable around sisters who may, or may not cover their hair, but who dress of the culture we are in, rather than the culture of some far away lands. When the community expects women of the west, born or immigrated/integrated, to wear foreign clothing we are robbing Islam, and hence Allah, of the authenticity of ‘all people, places and times’. When we abandon ourselves, our culture, our heritage, to inauthentically adopt that of people’s who converted to Islam a few centuries ago, we are abusing our religion. Make no mistake. When Islam spread to Asia no one asked the peoples there to become Arab, so why must we?

When a woman wears hijab because she believes it is expected of her by Allah, and does so exclusively for Him, she is self aware of the struggles she will face and is working hard to stick to a practice that she believes is important. When a sister puts one on because of community pressure, to fit in, or due to ‘suggestions’ from her friends, she is committing shirk. But that is exactly what western Muslim communities are encouraging! The pressure is intense and the lack of respect and even abuse inflicted on sisters who do not cover, even if they do not believe it to be obligatory, is obscene. In our communities, if a dejabbed sister really wants to be involved with community activity she must choose between insincerity to Allah or abuse, ridicule and slander. Forgetting that the abuse, ridicule and slander is actually haram to heap upon her.

It’s no easy decision, but in the end, each muslimah here in the west should be given the opportunity to research and come to conclusions of her own. And there is a plethora of scholarly works over the past 1400 years that show hijab has not always been thought of as obligatory in the deen and thus a sister who does her homework can have enough knowledge to know that she is worshipping her Rabb just as much dejabbed as a sister down the street who may happen to hijab. When someone starts judging your commitment to Islam based on your clothing, run sister, don’t walk, run away. It’s not between you and them anyway. If you choose to wear it, make it your own decision, free from outside input or advice. It’s not between you and them anyway. And support your sisters in their own decisions, please. Let’s empower Muslimahs, not beat them down!

As for myself, I am doubtful I will ever adorn traditional Arab style hijab again. Besides not believing it to be an obligation in the deen (see works by scholars Khaled abou el Fadl, Amina Wadud, Fatima Mernissi and Leila Ahmed, for a start…) I just do not feel authentically Muslim when dressed that way. I feel like a fraud before Allah and that is completely unacceptable to me. I became a Muslim for Him, so in the end I must be a Muslim for Him. Maybe it’s just my age or the fact that I want to protect my son from cultural baggage that is not his own, but I truly don’t care what the community thinks of my decisions. And I am more than willing, educated and capable to discuss the matter with any hostile parties who wish to abuse me about my lack of abaya and over the top topping. Any woman who makes a choice concerning her hijab should be given the right to live it, for His sake, without comment, criticism or encouragement to do differently.

We are, after all, Muslim for the sake of La illaha il Allah, not for the sake of biryani and henna parties. Right?

Mercy, Mercy Me

Asalamu alaikum, Ramadan Mubarak to you all!

I want to start this blog by encouraging everyone to make dua’a for the Sikh community after the terrible attack and murders at their temple in Wisconsin this past weekend. As Muslims, we must be ever vigilant in praying for peace and protection, for ourselves and for our neighbours from different faith groups. And writing this, I know, will be controversial and that is why I am going to talk about it. Because it’s Ramadan and Allah is full of Mercy, and thus it is an obligation upon all Muslims to strive to reflect that trait ourselves, in our public and private lives.

A few months ago after a Shia center was fire bombed in the eastern US I wrote an article about the issue for the Western Muslim Magazine (http://www.thewesternmuslim.com/index.php/articles/item/then_they_came_for_the_shias) . While many people welcomed the article and I had many positive responses from people who were encouraged to see some public discourse about the sunni/shia issue that was positive and open, there were others who questioned whether I was really a Muslim simply for thinking that the Shia are Muslim. Instead of acknowledging that a violent attack upon any religious group, Muslim or otherwise, is evil and must be stopped, some folk actually wanted to re-engage the old takfiri debate about who is a Muslim and who is not. I truly believe this debate shows not only deep seated ignorance, but an utter lack of security in our faith.

And since this is Ramadan and I have been contemplating my relationship with Allah, I’ve really gotten to thinking about our individual and collective relationships with God and how strong and weak they become. I try to constantly remind myself to be aware of continuing my conversation with God and to ‘keep checking in’. Part of this ‘checking in’ is making sure that I am exhibiting, to the best of my ability, the traits of Mercy, Gentleness, Compassion and other positive attributes when dealing with others. But it can be very difficult to remain positive and gentle and to keep our link to God strong. Often times it becomes glaringly apparent that we have stopped striving in this vein when we become judgemental of those who are different than we are. I’m guilty of it, of course, I suspect most people are from time to time. It’s easy to look outwards with an eye of judgement or hatred when things in one’s own life are headed south. Instead of holding on to our relationship with God and increasing our dialogue, albeit one sided, with Him, we tend to shut that door and spew venom instead.

Our community is filled with judgement towards those who follow a madhab, study tasawwuf, practice female prayer leadership and so on. Any time we encounter a Muslim who dares to define their relationship with God in a way that we find different, we internalize it and attempt to change them. Any time we come across a person claiming Islam as their faith, we make snap judgements about what they should look like, act like, talk like, how they should practice the religion and how they should live their lives. And if our judgements show us that they do not rigidly fit into our predetermined box of what Islam is and who God is, then we judge and condemn. We show no mercy. Are we that insecure in our relationship with God? Are we that weak?

Lately I’ve been finding that when a Muslim tries to sweet talk me into thinking a Muslim who follows the path of Shi’ism or Sufism or any other non mainstream ‘ism’ is somehow deviant or kuffar, all I really think is that the Muslim who is laying this hate game on me is the deviant one. The one who hates Allah so much that there is no room in their heart for Mercy. Ive also noticed that if a media report or journal article links us, sunni Muslims, to a shia group or an ismaili person, or to any other non mainstream muslim group or individual that we go ballistic. Are we so afraid of ‘guilt by association’ that we need to reduce ourselves to throwing childlike tantrums if non Muslims associate us with people who share a moniker (muslim) but not an exact ideology? Seriously? We are that insecure in our relationship with Allah? May He have Mercy on us and guide us.

And that is why, this Ramadan, I really want to encourage my fellow Muslims to pray for ease of suffering for our Sikh neighbours who are struggling with the events of this past weekend. Should we, as Muslims, wonder if we were the intended victims? Ive read much speculation that the right wing bigot who committed the attack was confused and thought he was attacking Muslims. Allah knows best, but it doesn’t matter in the least. What matters is a religious community was attacked simply because they were different from the attacker. He had no capacity for mercy and acceptance, so he acted with violent impunity and murdered folk who were doing nothing less than striving to live their lives well, reaching for God’s mercy. Isn’t it time for Muslims to look inwards, take stock of our individual and collective ills and to go forth and spread the mercy? Do it in your dua’a, do it in your private lives, and do it in your public lives. Let’s stop looking at others in judgement, and start looking at others with love and mercy.

Dua’a is always needed. Mercy is ever present, if only we are willing to look.

May Allah bless you all this Ramadan and may He grant us all tawfiq. Ameeen.

Come As You Are…

Come
As you are
As you were
As I want you to be

As a friend
As a friend…

-nirvana, come as you are.

 

 

Asalamu alaikum,

 

So this is sort of a continuum from my previous post about the Friday night WMI screening of the Wayward Son documentary and discussion panel. The main event on the following day, the al-Musharaka workshop with the brothers from ta’leef in san fran, was truly overwhelming. Since I am only writing about my specific experience with the event, I am sadly going to be using a lot of ‘I’ statements, with apologies. Due to unforeseen issues,  I missed the morning of the workshop and so don’t want to comment on what others experienced there, though it was likely very intense, if the afternoon is anything to go by. I arrived at the conference center just as lunch was wrapping up and even though I know the morning was filled with emotion, the mood was really warm and brothers and sisters were laughing and truly enjoying each other’s company. It has been a good long while since I entered a room filled with Muslims who were truly enjoying suhba. I felt intimately connected with everyone present, even without saying a word. I joined a table of sisters who were laughing and exchanging experiences, continuing on the weekend’s theme of productive discussion; these ladies were out to change the world!! 

The chairs were arranged into a circle and everyone took their seats and the intensity began. I suspect not everyone present found it as emotionally charged and draining as I did. I worked very hard to just listen and not speak up, even though it was a completely safe environment to do so. It was interesting just to hear what others are going through in their lives, as western Muslims, as members of a highly dysfunctional community unit. Everyone in attendance was just there as themselves. No one seemed to be putting on pretension of piety or of being better than anyone else present; though I know a number of people there are highly educated in the deen and deeply pious. Everyone just seemed to be loving and accepting of each other’s state, filled with respect and peace and leaving judgement for the One who is capable of it. It was certainly a continuation of the previous night’s theme, though on Saturday we discussed the idea of Spiritual Bypassing. This is a concept that I had only recently encountered as a concrete idea, though had obviously experienced it too many times to count (and committed it as well, sadly) The theory examines the means by which we avoid dealing with tough, real life issues that our brothers and sisters face by levelling platitudes (or just plain hadith hurling) at them in order to not have to offer concrete solutions or to have to attempt to listen to their struggles. “oh sister, it’s just a test from Allah that your husband is beating you…” or “brother, have sabr, for surely after hardship comes ease”, sort of stuff. And while yes, Allah does promise us that after hardships come ease, reciting it to someone who is struggling and can not feed their children this month does absolutely nothing to fill a hungry belly. Undoubtedly everyone in attendance could privately recount an instance where they reached out and had their needs ignored via spiritual bypassing. It gave me a lot to think about and certainly something to make tawba for. Astaghfirullah.

 This weekend surely marked a high point for me as far as truly inspiring Islamic events. I know I was blessed to have been there, to have had the opportunity to listen to so many diverse opinions and experiences. Only Allah, in His Infinite Mercy and Wisdom, could have brought together such a unique group of people to benefit for His sake. subhannaAllah. Knowing the struggles I have been through over the past few years in trying to make my ‘who I am’ congruent with ‘what I believe’, this weekend helped put a lot of things in perspective. It certainly didn’t solve every issue I am dealing with, but it went a long way to help and to give me hope. The simple fact that I felt no need to censure myself all weekend is proof that there are Muslims living in my very community who accept me simply because I am Muslim.  Regardless of whether I: am outspoken or remain silent, wear traditional hijab or a hair wrap, wear long skirts or short skirts, wear t-shirts or tunics, follow a madhab or not, speak Arabic or not, and so on. It was a liberating weekend in so many ways I could not possibly enumerate them all.

As some of you may know, a year ago I decided I was, for the most part, done with traditional hijab because I was tired of putting my heart on my head, identifying my most inner thoughts and beliefs with strangers on the street. I cant say as though this weekend completely changed my feelings on the subject, and while I often do wear traditional hijab when out, though I am no longer certain about it’s status, at least I no longer feel external pressure to decide one way or the other. I have decided to be more fluid in my daily modesty choices, knowing that Allah fully knows what is going on in my heart and mind. I know I don’t care whether a sister dresses in a mini skirt and tank top or whether she wears a jilbab with niqab, so I expect the same respect and understanding. My brothers and sisters will give it to me, of that I now know for certain.

 To be continued…

 

With much love, particularly to the WMI, with special love to s.m, e.v and the actual sisters, for all the blessings and opportunities. Y’all know who I mean…

 

 

Safe Space? Indeed

Call me a sceptic. Heck, call me a disenfranchised Muslim. What ever the term, I am a western Muslim who doesn’t really fit into the traditional landscape of mosque culture. And I am seriously okay with that reality. I have come to accept it and I feel rather liberated by the fact that I know that I can trust Allah, my family and my circle of awesome muslimah sisters here in Calgary, in Vancouver, Seattle and further afeild. I know who has my back, and I know who I would walk through fire for. And for the most part, this is enough.

 

But every once in a while I start getting that old craving back. You know… that need for a little something more. And I am not talking about whipping out my five inch platform boots, my corset, and heading out to the local rivet night at Dickens’. I mean I start craving some Muslim event that will have me reaching deeper and striving more completely. Some event that will get me rededicated to my awrad, to my salah, to my dua’a. For many years I would head out to every local event in hopes of spiritual nourishment and every single time, save but one particular trip to Toronto, I have walked away from community events feeling very unsatisfied. At best. I have run away from too many events feeling spiritually raped, emotionally abused and physically threatened. So, over time, I just stopped attending events. This is not to say that I haven’t attended the occasion event and had a good time, because I certainly have. The Offbeat Muslim Fashion show a few years ago was a total hoot, it just wasn’t a religiously significant event… I digress…

 

So a few months back when I heard talk of an upcoming screening of the Wayward Son documentary by Mustafa Davis, produced by the Ta’leef Collective out of the Bay area, (http://www.taleefcollective.org/) I was both excited and sceptical. I mean really, how could this event be any different? A film screening sounds like fun and I have attended such community events before. They are always followed by a heart warming talk or panel discussion in which lots of praise is heaped on everyone and a ton of ‘alhamdullilahs’ are bandied about and we all go home. No one actually discusses anything of depth or of concern to the broader community. Probably because no one feels safe to voice their opinions or to make critical assessments of the community aloud. So everything is swept under the table and we just keep going on about our business as usual while many in our community feel more and more isolated, further connected from community and worse.

 

But hope springs eternal and the optimist inside of me said, ‘tanda, for God’s sake, just give it a chance. The western Muslim initiative has never done any event half-assed and they are not about to now’.  Furthermore, the Ta’leef Collective is a well known ‘safe space’ environment and some good friends have taken classes at their center in Cali, so I really felt the need to trust the message that they are promoting. So I bought my tickets and headed out to the Friday night gathering, excited about getting out of the house for a few hours and also steadfastly refusing to get my hopes up. I just can not bear one more disappointment with the community right now. I am truly at the point where I want to blend in with the broader society and not have any physical reminders to the outside world that I am Muslim. I am not in a crisis of faith, I never have been. I am in a crisis of community…

 

So many aspects of the evening surprised me I don’t think I can list them all in one post, to say nothing of the amazing Saturday workshop that was held, led by Ta’leef’s Micah Anderson and Mustafa Davis. But Friday night was last night, and I have had a few sleepless hours to digest the experience. I suspect I will have another few before everything settles in my mind, but what I am ruminating on thus far is the diversity of the crowd; born Muslims and reverts, a good gender mix, a variety of states of hijab, lack of hijab, beards and no beards and so on. There was no gender segregation in the seating, which was a boon as I am fairly committed to not attending segregated events any more (that requires a whole other post…)  After the film screening a panel discussion ensued in which the crowd got to pose questions and make comments not only about the film but about what it’s like to be Muslim in the west and everything related to such. This session is what kept me awake all night. I can not get over the intense, deep and sometimes startling questions and comments that the audience made. Every one had their opinions and voice respected and there was no judgement, no threats, and no silencing opinions that were controversial or uncomfortable. Sisters were not only heard, but they were seen! I think that many present could have stayed all night, discussing and rearranging the world! It was inspirational and it left me feeling very connected and satisfied.

 

That’s not to say it was a fully positive, happy evening in which we all sat around holding hands and singing kumbayah. It was an evening filled with criticism of the status quo, raw desperation, and very intense emotions. There was laughter and there were tears. But in the end, it was an evening that made us all think about where we fit into the western Muslim landscape, about how we have survived thus far and what positive things need to happen in our community in order to go forward.

 

I know I have a lot more to write on this weekend’s event, particularly about the emotionally draining Saturday session, but I will have to pause here to collect my thoughts, make dua’a, and try to coalesce my ideas.   I realize this post is a little ‘all over the place’, but I wanted to start to write about a theme that has been digging into my heart over the past year, which is community disengagement. About how I want to keep my Islam and my love of Allah pure and unthreatened. So this is just the first of many posts following a theme of loss, of discovery and of reawakening, inshaallah. 

 

Wishing you all much Love,

 

t.

Sex, Please, We’re Muslim….review of the book, Love InshaAllah.

Asalamu alaikum,

A little something today for those who love to read and who aren’t afraid to be brave in their choices… I finally got my hands on a copy of Love, InshaAllah: The Secret Love Lives of American Women. I had to read it twice, cover to cover, before I could put into words what I really want to say about this controversial and bold compilation of articles written by American Muslimahs.

Usually I abhor compiled edited works by a various authors, but after having loved “I Speak For Myself: American Women on Being Muslim”, I thought I would give another recently published work a go. And I will never regret doing so. While it kept selling out on Amazon and I couldn’t locate it at any local book sellers, I did finally order it online and predicted that it would be, if nothing else, an entertaining read.

What I did not expect was to be so emotionally drawn in to so many of the sisters’ stories. There is a little something for everyone in this compilation of articles and I found some stories to be heartbreaking, some to be just inspiring in their romanticism. One article, The Birds, the Bees, and My Hole, written by Muslimah comedian, Zahra Noorbakhsh, had me laughing so hard I was crying. No joke. It was well written, descriptive, smartly crass and unabashedly brave. Another article, Punk-Drunk Love, written by Muslimah punk, Tanzila Ahmed, included a paragraph that was so sublimely erotic I really had wished my partner had been home after reading it. Wheeww! Hot stuff!!

Interspersed with stories of profound joy at finding perfect mates, there are also stories included of profound sadness and personal loss; loss of love, loss of family at having made the decision to marry outside of one’s race or culture, loss of sense of self when a relationship ends. What struck me so deeply about these narratives is how willing these sisters were to share their most special, sometimes most tragic, personal experiences and how shockingly similar they are to the journey’s taken by women around the world, regardless of faith.

And that is ultimately why this book is of such importance in today’s Muslim literature landscape… this book truly shows how normal Muslim women are. These sisters run the spectrum from very conservative (one is a regular contributor to a well known pro-salafi publication) to very liberal. Oddly, one of the lesbian contributors could be classified amongst the more conservative of the bunch while many of the straight sisters show themselves to be incredibly liberal. Some sisters write of very traditional marriages, including arranged marriages and semi arranged marriages. One sister is a co-wife, which is stereotypically traditional, though not actually that common. And a number of the married writers found their beloveds through good old fashioned dating. Oh, the shock of it all!

Rarely do I encounter a book that is so inspirational that I have to encourage everyone I know to get ahold of a copy, but this is certainly one of them. One need not be Muslim to enjoy these narratives, nor even a woman. But if you are a Muslim woman encountering this book, I encourage you to set aside your inner haram police, leave Judgement to Allah alone, and to realize that your sisters come in all shapes, sizes, orientations and personalities. Let’s celebrate the diversity of our ummah; Love, InshaAllah certainly does just that!

til next time…