Each lock and curl bounced as she walked down the street

This was her mare, embodiment

of her lioness femininity

A cry to the world that she could and

Did, work on something, protect it

And see it live, breathe and grow

She lived in the 1800s, amidst the Industrial Revolution-

Bathed in the Ganges with hopes of ablution-

She cried for her son’s blood, wet in

The snow of that wintry Boston Civil War

Hid in the blouse of a geisha in Japan, a woman

half scarred

Eyes brightened up, the first Mongolian

Girl in her village to learn to read

Hopped in the fields of Dakota, planting a

pumpkin seed.

This girl, this woman, this delicate creature of God

Her hair showed the world what could not a nod

A symbol of acquiescence to male passion and greed

To this she was a witness, a reluctant even, at times,

accomplice, why didn’t she pay heed?

She did, of course

And reexamined her strand

She took her locks and, simultaneously,

her soul by the hand

and asked it, gently, why it sought to be

the center of her life, or

merely a symbol of her personality?

Was insecurity, purposelessness or

ennui she was a victim of?

Indeed, no cause had she to live life for authentically

And walk determinedly towards

Her inner nature had submitted to her Creator, always

She knew He was watching, truly

Thus, find she did truth and beauty in

Loving His Oneness, His Mercy

And Perfect Qualities

As she praised Him, she let go of the world which

constantly brought her to her knees

Escaping from her meager worries, she found her dignity

Awash the shores of real femininity, leaving behind the mountains of superficial disparities

She found her status, honor and worthy self-esteem from the One who created her free

from society, but eternally bound to His blessed slavery

A cause worth living for, it was meant to be

Throughout humanity’s beginning, from the ages of Adam and Eve

still relevant in corporate-run-to-soccer-mom-duties, our 21st century

Her hair

Her locks became longer, thicker and shinier

Beaming with purpose and purposefulness, completely

Now tucked in a Hijaab, a transformation inside to out

A marvelous embodiment of her new found true strength

and womanly essence.

A young woman’s hair, not for society, but for God to see.

    I’m one of those “feminists.”

    The label doesn’t stick either way. That’s alright, I’m not looking for labels, and I don’t fit comfortably into stereotypical boxes.

    We, the women of Islam, have failed if we continue to allow others to define feminism for us and do not challenge definitions that exclude all but a certain few. We are the flag-bearers of this great religion which gave us revolutionary rights and freedoms; we must portray its strength through our actions. We cannot continue to blame the media, the “west,” and others for distorting our image. We must own up to this responsibility. If we silently do not participate in our communities, show no opinions, emotions or beliefs but rather complacently allow our men to be our voice (inaccurately, at times), then we are playing into the stereotypes of our image. It is this complacency which will shoot ourselves in the foot.

    As Muslimahs we have a great responsibility to Allah (swt), ourselves, our communities and to the representation of Islam.  We carry the banner of Islam constantly, whether we want to or not, whether we realize it or not, whether we wear hijab or not. Our actions and words are never perceived as those of just another woman/girl. Simply being aware of this is no longer enough! If this is how the world looks at us, we must use this to our advantage.  Let them look at us, our actions, our lives and associate it with Islam, but let us reflect the true spirit of Islam in our characters.

    Often, we’re confused about what our roles should be, how much should we go out, participate, speak up? We can take a cue from the Muslim women in the past, such as Fatimah al-Fihri, who started the world’s oldest university to date.  I have seen Muslim women all over the world use and cherish every opportunity to participate and create programs to educate and introduce change for the better. Is it not more pressing while living in “free” countries we utilize that freedom to its utmost extent? Should all of us start madrassas ? No, we’re not all qualified to, however, each of us has something unique to offer our community. Tap into your talents and benefit others with them. Some of us are eloquent writers, orators, talented artists, love working with children, savvy business women, and techie computer people. Turn your hobbies and pastimes into opportunities for enriching your lives, gaining reward from Allah (swt) and enhancing our communities.

    We face many issues within our communities: How many Muslimahs are abused and go through life unsupported? How many lack basic education?  How many non-Muslims or even Muslims have you recently talked to about the positive aspects of being a Muslim woman? To change these negative stereotypes we don’t need to wait for millions of Saudi-backed dollars or week-long conferences. Great movements, revolutions and shifts in paradigm began through word of mouth. If we do not believe that we can enact this change, and subsequently follow through with it, then we [i]are [/i] the oppressed, ineffective, weak women others accuse us of being.

    Now what? You’re all riled up and ready to tackle this head on, but how? What can you do today empower yourself and other Muslim women? Here are some ideas how we can convey the message that Muslim women are intelligent, active and productive members of society.

• Educate yourself about your rights and responsibilities:
  • Take Islamic classes (there are online institutes and there’s always the library)
  • Read about Muslim women in the past and contemporary history, there are more than you think.
  • Subscribe to MuslimahSource for seminars and workshops on learning AND doing more!

• Take up a cause, participate in charity work. Islam is a way of life, so live it! Our religion is deeply rooted in enacting social change and care. Part of dealing with our problems is looking at the bigger picture. Think Big Locally! Help find the cure for cancer, go green, or adopt an orphan.
  • Fight Breast Cancer
  • Fight Diabetes
  • End World Hunger
  • Sponsor an Orphan
  • Pet Rescue – look for local opportunities through your Humane Society or Petsmart
  • Heart Health
  • Environmentalism
  • Domestic Violence

• Look for local opportunities to give your time and get involved in your communities:
  • Match your skills and interest with opportunities in your area!
  • Find your local masjid and get involved
  • Create your own program!

• Be confident that you are backed by the religion of Allah (swt)

On the other hand, Firdaws* was around my age, maybe a few years older. She and her sister both came to the school to learn English, a strikingly novel endeavor for women in their family who came from the villages of Punjab. Nostalgia embraces me as I remember my down-to-earth conversations with Firdaws. Oh and I can’t forget the card and gift she gave me before I left – a jewelry box I still have on my dresser – and it reminds me of her story. She wanted to marry a certain individual but did not know at all how to approach him in the proper manner. There was a distinct shyness or lack of communication on her part. I remember telling her to not settle for less and to keep in mind the good qualities we should look for in a prospective partner. 

Even upon coming back to the idyllic States, I could not but be attached to the persona and stories of Zareena and Firdaws. Issues of divorce – I’ve seen ‘em in my family. What about marriage? A topic that the Muslim community never tires of talking about. What about the everyday communication gap between young women and their families with regards to marriage or other future aspirations? Been there, done that. 

Clearly, we as American Muslim women, believe it or not, are not disconnected from the stories and realities of Zareena and others like her. In reality, their struggles are our own. Their narrative, in many ways, is our narrative, the story of Muslim women who notice the disparities between reality – the cultures which bind us – and idealism – the liberation offered by Allah, our Creator, what the Book of Allah and the Sunnah offer. But how can we use those shining torches to illuminate and then eliminate silent and manifest injustice in our communities? 

The first step is to tell our story. 

*Names have been changed

Fueled by the negative portrayal of the incident by the media, this vicious and most vile act has undoubtedly sparked a great debate amongst the public. Unlike the claim made by xenophobes, this murder has nothing to do with Islaam. Ignorance breeds culture, and culture is often mixed with religion by those who use every ounce of their energy to taint Islaam and Muslims. According to various reports and interviews from close friends of Aasiya and her murderous husband, Muzzammil Hassan had a very aggressive nature; a pattern of abuse was evident throughout all 3 of his marriages. Some said it might have had something to do with his rough childhood and difficult relationship with his father.

What is even more unfortunate is that the media coverage largely focused on the husband. No doubt what he did was an atrocious crime and should be punished to the fullest extent of the law, but what’s being ignored is that what happened to Aasiya happens to women all around the world. This time it was a Muslim and hence the coverage focused mostly on finger-pointing and blaming of the entire Muslim nation.

Domestic violence is not new to us. Not to Muslims, nor Hindus or Christians. It existed thousands of years ago, and is prevalent to this day. Focus needs to be on ‘why’ the abuse of women has been tolerated throughout generations. It has to be eliminated from its very core. The core being ignorance. It’s the ignorance of rights of women in Islaam. Most cultures force women to live their lives in silence and bear the abuse in the name of preserving honor and reputation of the family. Islaam came about to eradicate this nescience and restore the rights of women.

And this is the purpose of Muslimah Source. We hope to educate the Muslim woman about her rights, to empower her through the teachings of Islaam, and to encourage her to speak up against violence and not withstand any form of abuse. We as women have it in us to fight. Our rights have already been given to us. All we have to do is… make use of them.

Photo Courtsey: Flickr

He was much more older, much more stronger and I was a child. It felt like sitting on a carousel that had spun out of control. You ask me how I ever returned to living a normal life? I ask you, what was normal about what happened to me? What was normal about being sexually abused, over and over and over and over until you lose count? If any of that was not normal, how could I ever return to living a normal life? That year has long been buried, somewhere deep beneath. But my life, my life has never been normal.” - From an anonymous victim.

Statistically, 1.3 women are raped per minute in the United States. That amounts to 78 rapes every darn hour. Calculate for yourself how many that is in a day. A sex crime happens every 3 seconds in South Africa. At least 8 rapes are reported in Pakistan daily. These are the “fortunate” victims that at least get to report their abuse. Pakistan is an “Islamic” country where murder is second nature to men who have no morals, no sense of religion, except the trumped up pride in their so-called honor and tribalism. And if families do somehow find out, women are told to hush so as not to defile (yes how ironic!) the family’s reputation. She is to forever abide by the unwritten rule of silence. Imagine how many women, even young girls suffer with this secret that eats away at them, and without a second thought they are forced to take it to their graves, out of fear for their lives? At least here in North America or any other Western country, you can report these incidents without any fear of shame, or exile or being beaten to death by a gang of unruly men. Oh but then again, ofcourse if you do report your abuse, you might either just get really lucky with a good judge in a court of law or you might be subjected to yet another violation of your rights and honor like the fate of this Muslim woman in Toronto, Canada where she was recently asked by the judge to take off her niqaab (face veil) in court during her testimony. What the heck? Lets get the story straight. First, you’re raped. Your honor is violated and then, you’re further violated by the court of law where justice and fairness does not apply to people of color!

So what now? What is the way out for these women?

Only one answer comes to mind: Sharee`ah (Islamic law). Some people might wonder why I would suggest something that currently doesn’t exist. I say the sharee`ah because it was ordained to guarantee a safe society for both men and women. It is there to protect our rights, to insure that the rulings commanded by Allaah and His Prophet (saws) are followed and to punish those who abuse them. But until the sharee`ah is established, I would encourage women to speak out about this injustice. Speak out. I cannnot even fathom how hard it must be for some to break their silence, but you don’t have to live with this for the rest of your lives. If you can’t speak about it in public, talk to a friend. Talk to someone who will lend you a listening ear. Point is, these facts need to come out. Our imaams need to be informed and educated about these vital issues. You hear them talk about anything and everything, from `aqeedah to terrorism issues and even hold 3-day conferences on marriage. If you get lucky, they will throw in a topic or two about violence against women in marriages but sexual abuse is rarely (if ever) brought up. Our scholars need to lift their iron curtains, stop brushing this problem under the rug and do something about it. It is binding upon them to help these victims. Most of all, our generation needs to start voicing their concern. Those muffled voices need to be heard.

Photo Courtsey: DeviantArt

I want to blame my mother, but nothing she would have said would have prepared me for the next three years of my life. He promised her that he would protect, love and cherish me. We were so perfect. Our union was for the sake of God alone. We pledged to build our new home on the teachings of Islam. We had dreams; we made promises. Happiness was in the air.

Ten hours post the marriage vows exchanged in front of my father and the respected Imams, my husband started beating me–in the name of God.

At first I pretended that nothing happened. Mother would call to see how her happy, newly married daughter was doing: “I am fine mom, we went out today. I love it here!” I learned quickly how to lie to my mother. I trained myself to hang up before I burst into tears and screamed for help. I always had a believable excuse on hand, “We are going shopping, Mom. Love you and talk to you later.” Mom believed I was happy; I wanted to believe I was too.

I can’t remember how it all started. I think I left the kitchen cupboard open by mistake. He slapped me on my face and reminded me that God created women inferior to men. And somehow I believed him. I remember running from the kitchen, thrusting my body on the sheets on the floor and crying myself to sleep. When I woke up, he was nice again. He apologized for his behavior and promised to never touch me again.

He would break that same promise for the next three years.

He grew out his beard, wore the Arab garb and said bismillah (in the name of God) with every sentence. Eventually the first slap turned into pushing, which later evolved into punching, kicking and verbal abuse. His dream was to become a Muslim scholar. He ordered me to work to support him while he studied the religion of God, Islam. His ultimate goal was for me to “better” my career so I would bring in more money as he slept all day. I could only obey.

If the food wasn’t ready when I got home after long hours at work, I was beaten and reminded that I could easily be replaced by a second, third or fourth wife. Sometimes when he had me in a headlock, and while I begged him to release me, I would pray that he would marry another. At least, I thought to myself, I would no longer be the only target for his blind anger.

I did everything to be the perfect Muslim wife. I listened to lectures, attended talks and sought advice of the knowledgeable. Nothing seemed to work. I cooked, cleaned, worked, studied and obeyed, yet nothing satisfied him. I adorned myself; I smelled nice. Yet with all the efforts, I was still a bad wife, a bad choice that he regretted. He compared me to every woman we knew; they were smarter, prettier and made better wives. The sad part, I started believing him. I blamed myself, could he really be right?

I prayed. But my prayers to God were all the same. I wanted to be a better wife for my abusive husband. I believed wholeheartedly if only I could become a more pleasing wife he would stop. We would be the perfect couple as the outside world viewed us. There would be no need to cover up the scars, the bruises or the broken dishes. I wouldn’t have to cry myself to sleep each night or endure the curses of the angels with every fight.

Eventually, I couldn’t handle it anymore. For once I gathered the courage to speak out, hit back, and push back. I had a speech ready. I had my demands on a list. I would threaten to expose him to the world that saw him as the pious, God-fearing brother of Islam. I wanted it to stop. Please make it stop. Anybody? The world. The neighbors. My family. Help.

But you know, it’s not that easy when you are beaten in the name of God. Who was to stop him anyways?

To be continued.

Photo Courtesy: Cindy A

As I rounded the corner, quietly reciting the Eid takbeer, I reminded myself that I would probably be one of very few women there. Turkish women don’t traditionally attend Eid or Friday prayers at the mosque; it’s just not the cultural practice. But I knew from my own experience that there were usually a handful of younger women that showed up for the khutbah on Fridays, and their numbers were steadily if slowly growing.

With that image in mind, I ignored the stares of the couple of men standing around near the entry to the mosque complex and scanned the mosque courtyard for any women as I took off my shoes. None. When I entered the mosque itself, it was more of the same: Though the mosque was by no means full, there were only men in it. The building’s construction is such that the women’s prayer area is actually in a separate room to the right, so I headed there. I walked in, and it looked mostly empty except someone I saw out of the corner of my eye sitting way in the back. Success — almost.

I was putting my shoes away when I realized that there was a man sitting in the front of the room. Hmm… I looked toward the back, where I thought I had seen an old woman as I walked in, but no, he was actually an old man. I sighed, having expected at least one other woman to be there, and at the very least no men in the women’s section! More than a little deflated, I went to collect my shoes and head out. In the same space of time it had taken me to figure out that this wasn’t going to work out as planned (maybe 10 seconds) it seems that the men in the mosque had come to the same conclusion. An older man rushed into the women’s section, and (assuming the combination of brown skin and an abaya meant I was an Arab) began shouting “Laa! Laa! Laa! [No, no, no!]” and gesticulating frantically. I left, undergoing a second round of stares on my way out of the mosque, through the courtyard, and out the main entrance. So much for my first Eid prayer in Turkey!

So much for the Eid prayer … and so much for the Sunnah too:

Umm ‘Atiyah (radi Allahu `anha) said: “We were commanded [and in one report it says, he commanded us -- meaning the Prophet, sall Allahu `alayhi wa sallam] to bring out to the Eid prayers the adolescent girls and the women in seclusion, and he commanded the menstruating women to avoid the prayer-place of the Muslims.” Narrated by Bukhari and Muslim.

Alhamdulillah. The experience, coupled with reflection, has been a valuable one for me, and I feel it’s a good example of why there’s a need for a movement for and by Muslim women to reclaim their Islamic rights. The main lesson I learned after mulling the incident over is that Muslim women need to stand up for Muslim women’s rights — because nobody else is going to.

In Turkey, the state controls mosques and religious education through the Religious Affairs Directorate (the Diyanet). Basically, since they control mosque administrations and haven’t told mosques to make space for women for Friday prayers and Eid prayers, it doesn’t happen on the large scale, despite the complaints and efforts of a courageous few young women, because Turkish culture dictates otherwise and the Muslim men don’t care. The mosque I’d visited was in one of Turkey’s most conservative neighborhoods, and I am sure that many, many of the men there know that the Sunnah is for women to be allowed to go to the mosques on Eid. None of them do anything about it. The small number of women petitioning for their rights isn’t yet big enough to overturn the government setup and the control of culture.

Incidents like this don’t just happen in İstanbul, where there are many mosques, and at least a few of the bigger ones were indeed open to women on Eid. Males-only mosques are also found in Pakistan and other parts of the Muslim world, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg in terms of the blatant dismissal of Muslim women’s rights. In North America, the UK, Australia and other Western countries with burgeoning Muslim communities, the neighborhood mosque is often the only option for miles and miles, and these mosques (which are centers of the Muslim communities in addition to their function as houses of worship) often have similar misogynist and un-Islamic views and practices.

Muslim women in these places have a responsibility to make sure that their Muslim communities don’t develop a culture where Muslim women can be so easily ignored and religious leaders wield the power to prevent them from their God-given liberties. Western Muslim women have a brief window of opportunity to ensure that in their nascent Muslim communities, where Muslim culture and practice is still settling, Muslim women’s rights become a fundamental standard. As demonstrated by the example of modern Turkey (where, aside from the mosque issue, practicing Muslim women are widely deprived of many fundamental rights), once your rights are taken away, it’s awfully hard to get them back.

Photo courtesy: Miralem Jakirlic