A few weeks ago, I posed this question as a Gmail status message, and within seconds of posting it, 4 women IMed me asking to share my answers. But how can there be an answer if the conversation is left out of our mainstream Islamic/American-Muslim discourse. How can there be a resolution if both men and women of the Muslim community are afraid to step into the realm of the unknown in an attempt to tackle such questions. Why is this question so heavily neglected in our discourse? What exactly are we bounded by? Is it Tradition? History? Is it because we’re so accustomed to the answer that there is no reason to question it? Does it lie under the absolute category alongside “Muslims cannot eat swine or drink alcohol”? Or are we simply afraid of what doors this could potentially open?

Why are our eyes wide shut? Let’s drop our pre-existing baggage and view it with open hearts. It’s evident that there exists a high need to engage in such dialogue but it somehow gets halted from moving forward… reasons for which remain mysterious to me. I dare not approach this topic from the ubiquitous perspective of “needing to marry a non-Muslim man because great Muslim men just aren’t out there,” as it seems this conversation is thoroughly played out.

My thoughts on why we as Muslim women couldn’t marry non-Muslim men.

From a traditional standpoint:

• Point: Men, as they went off to war would never return home or be away for extended periods of time and therefore were allowed to marry women of the land where the war was taking place
  • Counterpoint: By the same token, I wonder about the women who are left behind. If this rule pertains to men, for what reasons could it not be applied vise versa? Moreover, women were left alone to be caretakers of their respective families. So why is an identical ruling not applied?

• Point: Men played a dominant role in a given family structure and therefore dictated much of what took place in the household, including religious and daily activities. They were accountable for educating their children on issues regarding this world and the hereafter. Women were uneducated and incapable of engaging in the family process or traditional “head of household”  responsibilities.
  • Counterpoint: If you take a look at any contemporary family structure, women have dominated and flourished in every capacity both domestically and professionally. At least from the “western” perspective, women have educated themselves in everything from religion to philosophy to medicine. We are the leaders, educators and healers of our respective communities.
  • The Prophet (saws) has stated that the woman is a caretaker in the home, ra’i– the same word you use for a ruler. How likely is it then, that women are strictly susceptible to the influences of her husband?
  • Women now play a leading part in educating their children in terms of religion.

God only knows. I pray that we can put our minds and hearts together to contextualize our own history. To come up with answers which align with God’s words.

Ameen.

“All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.”- Galileo

Second grade. I had a crush on a Mexican kid with a chipped tooth. I guess we were all losing teeth back then. I wasn’t much about looks anyway. I would chase him around the playground. But he ran away. Far away. Sometimes it seemed like he’d disappear. Or maybe, it’s just my memory that fades.

Fifth grade. I tried having another crush. This time he was Asian. I think his name was Adrian. His best friend – Warren Lam. They were both in all the AP classes. Somehow it got around to his sister that I thought he was cute, and one day after school, she pointed me out to him. I imagine he was looking for a girlfriend and wanted to know who this “mysterious” chick was. The disgusted look on his face when he saw who it was—was priceless.

Sure I was a bit hefty at the time. But that look made me feel devastated. Never wanting such private information like that going out in public, I ran home crying. My first tears over a guy. Only to come home to my brother watching cartoons. I swayed back and forth in that rocking chair. My world had nearly ended. And I was only 11 years old.

High school. I think his name was Asif. I was shy back then. Around guys anyway. We spent about 2 years giving each other the eye. But nothing came of it. Ah—desi boys. Gotta love it. Then he began dating someone whom I can’t recall.

High school track: I started running. Somehow I needed to loose weight. Running 1 lap was hard. I pushed to get to the finish line. I prayed to God. I negotiated with God: “If you help me loose weight, I’ll start wearing a scarf.” Subhan’Allah. I bargained with God.

So I ran. And ran. Ate carrots, and ran some more. A Mexican guy on the sidelines called me a monkey as I attempted running my 12 minute mile. But soon enough, my mother’s friends started noticing. “How trim and nice she’s looking. What’s her secret”? Guys started noticing. Turnin’ heads.

So it seems that now the guys decide to start turning their heads. Too little too late. And thus, I began my almost life long grudge against men. I would roll my eyes, switch my hips and just walk by. Without even blinkin’ an eye.

How else could I have been a survivor?

TBC

I love listening to your heartbeat –a pulse which beats louder than the beats of an African drum
I love listening to your breath –in its very own enchanting rhythm.

I attempt to make out your face as I stare deep into the darkness
The moonlight shines through the blinds, illuminating your soul and I can’t help but feel blessed.

As you lay your head down to rest
How can I express the magnitude at which I’m awed by your innocent and delicate finesse
And so I say that the beauty you possess,
Is more beautiful than I would have ever guessed.

Time passes by, as night fades into day and the sun begins its morning quest
Time for me to humbly bow down and make my morning request
Turning right and then left, greeting the Angels from the south to the northwest
O Lord, let our love multiply, and be each others protectors–be each others life vest
Until our time comes for eternal rest.

Ameen.

Incontinence.

For the most part, I’m not a big movie go-er. But alas, my husband is. Call me pretentious, but I waste away hours at a time on nonsensical matters, and to add an additional 2 ½ hours for a movie during Ramadan seems unholy to say the least. But I bought into the pressure, not knowing the profound impact that this documentary would have on me.

“A Walk to Beautiful”—Such an eye-opening documentary of 5 Ethiopian women living under constant scrutiny by society because of the physical conditions which arise due to inadequate attention post childbirth.

Incontinence.

Without going into the anatomy, the end result was that women wouldn’t have any control over their bladder (which typically happens when labor exceeds a certain time period, and there is a miscarriage).

A woman is defined by her ability to give birth. To bear children. When this doesn’t happen, she’s casted aside by her family, husband and peers. She’s exiled. And put into an unstable hut built outside the home for no other reason than being protected by the hyenas which linger about.

So apparently, this means that the lack of access to health care can give men the option to marry other women. Women who are capable of giving birth.

So many political and socioeconomic issues surface from this documentary: Force marriages for women at the age of 9. Abuse, child labor and poverty hindering the body from fully nourishing itself—from fully growing, leaving them stout so when they do have children, they’re pelvis’s are not big enough to support the birth. I suppose I have no right to be angry at the amount of physical labor done by children at a young age. Agricultural societies run in such a fashion. But there is no excuse for not having the proper nutrition that one needs.

It makes me wonder time and time again—why I was not born in a third world country. In a developing country. However you want to label it, I was born in one of the most powerful countries in the nation. This was God’s ultimate plan. Even if you do not believe in a higher being, this was my random chance.

With nothing but privilege seeping from all directions.

****

Just another recent article delving into child marriages…

Ramadan Kareem

Ramzan Mubarak …

That’s right, I said it. For a moment in time, I’m going to represent my authentic identity. Mish misria. No soy boriqua. And I ain’t part black. But this introductory paragraph is quite tangential.

I really just wanted to say how beautiful these first few days of Ramadan have been. I’m home in Houston for the first 10 days and will be in DC for the last. The usual tradition of going to taraweeh for evening prayer is one where a sheik (or priest) will read the first portion of prayer—but this year they mixed it up a little by having young men who have just finished memorizing the Quran to read the last portion of prayer. They recite with such beauty and passion. Each word so crisp, so clear and so sharp — that I felt as if I had temporarily elevated—slightly hovering above ground. Each letter resonated from ear to ear, and although it was just your ‘’average prayer”, I had to fight back my tears. I could have stood all night, and swayed ever so slightly to the rhythm of the beautiful recitation.

I wonder what it means to have your entire heart consumed by the Quran. Consumed by words of God sent down to the Prophet (saws). If we have dynamic goals, I imagine that people like myself will spend their entire lives attempting to memorize excerpts from the Quran—but will come no where near close to these 16-18 year olds.

Social norms can typically be described as both implicit and explicit behavioral expectations within society. They become the benchmarks for what is both appropriate and improper regarding one’s behavior, values and belief systems. What happens then, when one’s action goes against the expected norms? Deterrence from social norms seems to induce a certain level of fear amongst other members of the society. A fear of the unknown. A self-censorship limiting ones thoughts and actions due to these implicit rules can’t possibly be a progressive approach in resolving our problems.

The norms that I want to evaluate, critique and flesh out is dating within the “American-Muslim” context.  Where do I even begin to articulate the types of conversations that have taken place regarding this topic? How can I give this topic due justice when it’s discussed time and time again, most commonly through an agonizing tone of hopelessness (particularly amongst young Muslim women). There is an entire generation of Muslim youth who eventually reach a “marriageable age.” (I can rant endlessly about what the age is, but let’s glaze over this issue and assume it’s contextual.) How do both men and women move from casually chatting into marriage–or from completely segregated lifestyles into marriage? Where is the transition or the understanding of the opposite sex come from–and how do both genders move forward when society places such a taboo on these issues?

Various solutions to this topic have sprouted. It just seems unfortunate that most resolutions are bounded by extreme viewpoints hindering a holistic and comprehensive understanding of their environment, of the situation and of themselves.

Let’s take a case where men and women are never allowed to integrate or to interact on any social level. Whether this occurs due to the family enforcement or due to the female’s ideology– her ability to go out and meet men becomes occluded. For the sake of categorizing (because that makes our lives easier), let’s say the female herself falls under a potentially more “conservative” category. This eliminates the possibility of meeting men at clubs/bars. In this scenario, the main avenue of courtship is predominately through ones parents. But this poses a grave problem when expectations and standards are not aligned between the young Muslim and her parents. It creates friction between parents who desire certain criteria for their children while they, themselves (as young Americans) have created a vastly different rubric.

So if parents are not the answer, and neither is the club scene—what remains? How do we solve this societal epidemic where a multitude of bright, educated, beautiful women who want to get married – can’t find men of equal caliber?

It seems that those women who once placed “dating” under the category of haram or forbidden, are now much more open to the idea. But is dating defined the same way as it is in the “American” context? What makes it okay now? Is it once you reach the age of 25 and beyond?

Where do the arbitrary boundaries lie? When and how do we know if they are being crossed? Unfortunately, I pose these questions with no real answers. It saddens me to know that we have yet to begin a dialogue towards progress…

TBC

Tears are sometimes the most refreshing medicine–free and natural. And once all your tears have run dry, you can’t help but feel a little more satisfied. A little more composed. Although moments earlier while the waterfall of tears flow, the vulnerability that surrounds you is all too encompassing.

I took a walk for lunch, with no particular destination, no specific place to go. And tears just flowed even before I left the lobby. Quiet tears at first. But the more I thought, the louder they became. Uncontrollable. Overpowering above anything else.

How can a person who brings so much joy—bring just as much pain? How can a person have so much say in your own thoughts, feelings and emotions? How can you take that control back? I have no answers. I have no response. Just thoughts. Just questions.

I halted at the stoplight. Too much oncoming traffic and honking taxi cabs to go forward. I just wanted to be. To listen to the songs that blasted through the earplugs from my iPod. To feel the warmth of the sun against my skin. I was distracted for a second as a woman approached me asking if I was okay.  I smiled through the tears and told her I was. Who would have thought that a random woman on the busy streets of NYC would care? That small bit of genuineness gave me a tad bit more faith in humanity. (It does exist)

I came across a park full of planted trees and benches. All I could think about was facing the sun. And wanting to absorb every bit of UV ray that it sprayed onto the earth. It wasn’t scorching enough to burn my skin, and the cool summer breeze dried away my tears. Sometimes I would catch people’s eyes. I saw pity, and confusion. Did my tears humanize a hijabi? Were they able to see that we too, are human?

I wanted to melt away. Become an animal that didn’t feel pain or joy. That just lived off of instinct. I didn’t want to go through the test of life. With its little pop quizzes every so often, leaving me to wonder if I was strong enough to overcome the growing pains of life.

How does one respond to the unexpected? To the pop quizzes of life? I guess I’ve found a temporary answer. Salty. Refreshing. Tears.

It’s been quite some time since my last post. I know that these words won’t do justice to the experiences that I’ve encountered over the past few months. But I hope it’s worth the quick read. The madness, the intensity and the stress has slowly come to an end–has slowly evaporated as I’ve just completed an entire year of policy school. It’s summer time, yet I still dream of regression outputs from STATA. I have nightmares about not being able to interpret scholarly articles in an accurate manner by not controlling for fixed effects or other external factors.

I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was about 9 months ago that we drove to the mixed income housing projects during orientation week. It was then that I realized the capacity that a policy degree holds—the tangle solutions it can bring to the table, and the voice it can bring to the voiceless.

The word “school” came up in a conversation last night, and I nearly had a panic attack–felt a slight shortness of breath. I’ve been beaten to death with methodological tools that everyone claims will in come in handy some time in the near future. But how can I assess whether I’ve learned anything? How can I ensure that the $50k which went into this year’s education was worth the investment? And not something that merely swirled down the toilet.

I still don’t seem to have any (dogmatic) opinions about the world around me– I’m still thoroughly confused about my beliefs on a variety of issues. But maybe this is just who I am—a person incapable of seeing the world through a myopic lens. And maybe I have to play off this characteristic and somehow mold that into a strength.

Now that I can breath again,

I was recently able to draw a parallel from a Political Economy course I took this quarter to an email exchange from a NYTimes entitled “Challenging Sex Taboos, With Help from Quran”. 

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/06/world/middleeast/06dubai.html?_r=4&ref=world

The article went into how a sexual activist was attempting to tackle taboo issues related to sexuality. Here was my very minimal and not so profound response in the email exchange:

I’m drawing a parallel to what’s going on in the US as far as same sex marriage to the “Challenging Taboos…” article. What’s interesting is that in class we’re learning about the court system as an institution and its ability to influence (or not influence) social reform. One of the things we discussed was about same sex marriage and the court’s role. We used an example of the referendum that passed in California, basically eliminating the original position of allowing for same-sex marriage to take place. Now the public policy position (after the referendum) seems to be more conservative than the original stance. Why you may ask, was there a regression from the court’s original position? It could very much be due to the fact that the sentiment or general trend to push for gay marriage didn’t really exist in the masses, on a grassroots level .. at least not yet. But I imagine that once a precedent and understanding is set, there will be movement at an institutionalized level within the court system, supporting the trend towards the acceptance of same-sex marriage.

The parallel that I drew was related to the same type of backlash that the sexual activist was receiving in the Middle East. Of course progress as expressed in this article is good thing. But I also think that backlash is going be continuous, namely because she’s in a minority position in every aspect. Being a female, wanting to talk about sex, AIDS etc. puts her in a position where her support is limited, particularly when the dominating leadership and expressive voices on the ground have had such an anti-sex tone. Let’s hope that her voice isn’t completed elimiated from the overall discourse and that some reduction of backlash will take place once the dialogue grows.

Nothing profound but thought I’d attach a connection to something domestic.

**********

Now that I have had some more time to reflect on my own thoughts, I’m beginning to come up with conflicting conclusions. (surprise, surprise) . Maybe the parallel isn’t applicable in a context where one institutional structure is much more democratic than the other. The question might then become– can the leadership in a dictatorial society provide a vision that the public is able to accept without much backlash? Maybe the direction that  social reform takes place depends on the type of society that is need of the reform. Under which context can the public influence social reform and in which do the elites? I suppose that U.S. structure has the institutional makeup where referendums are a tool to voice the opinions of public discourse– thus producing backlash in the context of same sex marriage. Maybe then, popular opinion isn’t needed in countries such as Saudi, because public opinion isn’t a necessary component to alter policies.

Love. A topic I wasn’t really expecting to engage in, let alone feel. But I suppose that Cupid’s arrow shoots at its own destined time without little consideration of convenience. But there’s a definite beauty to that. A beauty in knowing that destiny will take its course regardless of one’s preconceived expectations.

I can remember being a wide-eyed adolescent repeatedly asking my elders and those who were soon to jump the broom; how they knew that he was ‘the one’. How were they able to conclusively decide on such a long-lasting choice?

The only answer was, “You just know.” Without recognizing its preciseness’ at the time, there was exponential beauty in the simplicity of that comment. At the time, it didn’t seem like enough information. I needed more that those three words. How does one know? How do you know if you’re confusing other externalities with knowing? How can you be sure?  What if you were wrong? If life is any indication, the more you think you know, the less you actually end up knowing.

I’ve somehow stumbled across uncharted territory. One where scattered imagines of the man who anonymously filled my dreams are slowly but surely becoming a reality. Descriptions of this man were constantly knocked down by others. I was told how picky I was being. How can a man be both intellectual and soulful? Both gentle and confident? How can he be spiritual and conscious of the divine element while simultaneously passionate and aware about the world around him? How can he have a great sense of (sarcastic) humor embedded with a true sense of maturity? How can it be true that aside from the descriptions above, there would be someone who’s willing to risk his heart and soul for you? Little does he know that it’s really no risk at all, because I’m willing, able and ready to give my heart and soul too.

So I guess, now I know.

Seeking peace and tranquility/
In days of confusion, chaos, anarchy and clouded obscurity/
Kings and queens illuminating their rays of nobility/
Deciphering right from wrong with such simplicity/
When in reality/
The distinction lies in an unknown territory of complexity.

Vision blurred/ sights obscured/
An irreversible deficiency in your inability to see/
As you reign high on your bolstered throne/
A crown of ignorance perpetuates an infectious disability of ostentatious tyranny.

Your cerebrum’s inactivity dilutes your wisdom/
Leaving you in a perpetual state of a cyclical stupidity/
With that tiny brain of yours, so itty bitty/
Makes me pity thee/
Because you can’t see the causality between the circumventing rhetoric on Fox news and America’s so-called “democracy”/
So you received your Masters, J.D. and PhD in political philosophy and ancient history/
But your unfounded wisdom is worth less than a Pakistani rupee/
And what have you got to show for your multiple academic degrees?
Just that fact that you’re incapable of distinguishing between the Atlantic Ocean from the Black Sea.

It’s like your mind is stalled while in transition/
Attempting to switch gears between the break and gas pedals/
Not realizing you ain’t even got the proper ignition key.

Your static inactivity makes you falsely perceive that Reality is a show on late night MTV/
Hypnotized by the pendulum of ignorance that swings with its magnetic force convoluting your mind with a false sense of security/
Only able to see the world through the lens of the black and white/
Colorblind leaving you incapable of seeing the beauty of diversity/
Leaving you to rely on cheat sheets and shortcuts for quick cash and a speedy victory/
So continue on with the Cardinal sins—the lust, greed, envy and gluttony/
Continue believing that our hegemonic capitalistic ideology will lead us to victory/
And with that I say, Good luck and God speed.