Maintaining a Narrative: ABC’s Monolithic Muslim Experience

Spearheading the healing of a slowly crippling nation, ABC News has decided to take it upon itself to play the role of facilitator between American Muslims and the generally more acceptable genre of Americans. ABC has broadcasted an assemblage of insightful (see: inciteful) shows aimed at answering those hard-hitting questions that no one else seems to be asking, as indicated by the aptly-entitled “Holy War: Should Americans be afraid of Islam?“, hosted by the ever identity-complex-laden Christiane Amanpour. Three additional shows/pieces were broadcasted under the guise of Good Morning America as a part of a series, equally objectively titled Faith and Fear: Islam in America.

ABC’s efforts predicate a discussion meant to shed some sort of light and foster an idealistically productive debate on the recent backlash against American Muslims, as indicated by the Park51 fiasco and the subsequent Islamophobiclicious campaign ads. However, these programs fulfill the narrative of Islam as a hateful ideology encroaching on the “American way of life” rather than illustrate how a hateful, homegrown ideology has taken over the minds of millions of Americans. ABC doesn’t examine how this ideology negatively affects and dangerously marginalizes a large group of American citizens with a deep and rich history spanning hundreds of years within the very country that is now continuously restricting their physical and social space.

Amanpour’s Town Hall panelists have included 9/11 victims’ family members, Reverend Franklin Graham, author Irshad Manji, Muslim comedian Aman Ali, a Black-American Muslim environmentalist Ibrahim Abdul-Matin, Daisy Khan and the eternally-dreamy Reza Aslan.

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The Wardrobe Wars: Bikinis and Garbage Bags

It seems as though the civilizational warfare as manifested by our differing wardrobes has had two recent battles involving the Brits, burqas, and bikinis.

About a week ago, a British woman in a Dubai shopping mall, allegedly wearing a shirt which seemed to reveal too much in relation to boobage and leggage, was scolded by a passing Emirati woman who felt the Brit’s clothing violated the modesty dress code, put up by mall authorities in respect to the country’s Islamic identity and ethos (which, fortunately, do not affect the Emirate’s use of slave labor for its self-glorification).

The British woman responded to the Emirati woman’s complaints by stripping down to her bikini. So much for “keep calm and carry on.” Both women ended up getting up in each others’ grills and mall authorities proceeded to detain both women. The Emirati woman then filed a complaint against the British woman, who was arrested by authorities for public indecency.

The response, albeit brief and minimal, has been unsurprising. For some, breaking the dress code social norm is heralded as a striking achievement for all of female kind, while for others it has begged the question: why was she wearing a bikini under her clothes?

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Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda: Islam as Rehab for Women

British novelist Martin Amis has expressed regret that his late sister did not embrace Islam to save herself from self-destruction. Everyone is understandably confused.

To begin with, Amis is not a neutral figure on Islam and women: he thinks that Muslims should be masterminded into becoming “more like human beings.” He likes the idea of being a “gynocrat,” a feminist self-styling so unconvincing even the most naïve will feel cynical about his political predilections. In an interview with Abu Dhabis’ The National, Amis revealed that his sister Sally, who died in 2000, was “pathologically promiscuous” and had severe depression and alcoholism. Amis believes that Islam would have come to her rescue, despite her conversion to Catholicism.

There are many problems with Amis wishing that his late sister had been a Muslim. First, despite his negative views of Muslims, Amis views Islam as a rehab program for troubled souls who needs to be “fixed.” According to him, “The continence of Islam, the austerity, the demands it makes” on Muslims may prove to be an excellent regimen for “such an uncontrollable girl” like his sister. Amis is perhaps unaware or refuses to acknowledge the fact that an overwhelming number of Muslims make a conscious choice about practicing Islam, rather than seeing that Islam makes demands of its adherents. The Islamic austerity that he cooks up in his imagination is partly mythical and wildly unrepresentative of any religious group.

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Pasha’s Perfection: Mother of the Believers

During Ramadan, my bedside novel happened to be Mother of the Believers by Kamran Pasha. It’s a work of fiction about the youngest and most beloved wife of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). Pasha has brought to life the story of A’isha, one of Islam’s most controversial and enigmatic characters. Only the right amount of poetic license, coupled with a lot of accuracy and consistency, can make historical fiction a success, as Mother of the Believers is.

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It is important to note that Muslims and non-Muslims alike dispute everything about A’isha: her age, her actions and even her intentions. I can only imagine the daunting task of putting together a story about her without offending anyone and yet remaining true to her legacy. Some have criticized Pasha for abiding too much by the book, especially with regard to A’isha’s age at the time of her marriage to the Prophet, which he depicted as the traditionally held nine years. In the preface of the novel, Pasha defends his position—one that I agree with—at length: we must face controversial issues within the Muslim community by creating dialogue about them. This is what will create real change about the image of Islam.

The book is a staggering 527 pages, and holds detailed insight into early Islamic life from the eyes of A’isha as an old woman. I particularly enjoyed the first person narrative. That Pasha gave A’isha her own voice is so refreshing in a world where the Muslim women is always spoken about, spoken to, and seldom heard. I am not sure if Pasha intended this, but by allowing A’isha to tell her own story, he has created a powerful image of an independent, fiery and outspoken woman.  I also feel he has honored the memory of A’isha by doing so (sentimental that I am).

Something else I must bring up is Pasha’s apparent maleness in the face of A’isha’s obvious femininity. I am awe-struck that a man could write so sensitively and in depth about a woman, from her perspective. Nowhere in the book did I feel any projection from a male perspective of how a woman “should” feel or behave. Throughout the book, Pasha remained consistent in giving voice to A’isha’s story from her own perspective, even if a fictional one. Even though he let A’isha take over, Pasha’s love and reverence for her and the Prophet shines through.

This is not to suggest that Pasha paints an overly rosy picture of early Islam. He deals with issues in this novel that scholars and historians have grappled with for centuries, such as the strained relationships between A’isha and the Prophet’s family, the accusation of adultery made against her, her role in the Battle of the Camel, the bloody and tragic events at Karbala, and the power politics amongst members of the Prophet’s community. Pasha manages to confront all these issues, with both the objectivity necessary and the poetic license in order.

It is worth noting how other women in the book, from early Islam, are depicted. Pasha gives them life too, through A’isha’s eyes. A’isha is known in the traditions to have been a fiercely jealous woman, and her relationships with the Prophet’s other wives, even with the “memory” of the deceased Khadija, are known to have been strained. Yet Pasha does not turn A’isha into a crazed, possessive wife.

Another sore point in A’isha’s life is her inability to conceive. Pasha lets her speak of her own anguish at witnessing her husband with other women, her own pain at being barren, without suggesting that barrenness or jealousy make a women any less worthy. A’isha spent the most part of her life as a widow, in fact her story only really begins after the death of her husband, when she takes up her role as scholar, preacher and advisor. Pasha rations the story accordingly, without focusing too much on her marriage, but on her independence, her own worth separate from her husband, father and other male figures.

Pasha even managed to maneuver sexuality its own place in the novel. The book maintains both the Prophetic example of openness and transparency about taboo subjects, as well as the Islamic principle of modesty. This is certainly not one of those historical fiction novels filled with sexual encounters at the turn of every page, but neither is it a trapped within a chastity belt. Pasha presents sex in a healthy way, associated with love, marriage and fidelity. Pasha speaks of nothing the Prophet and A’isha themselves did not speak about in the Hadith.

As a Muslim woman, I am immensely proud of this novel. It is a pioneer in that practically non-existent genre of Islamic fiction (fiction written within the framework of Islamic ethics and principles). I am also greatly moved that a Muslim man could write with such depth about such a complex female character as A’isha.

As I progressed through this novel, I cried with A’isha and laughed with her. The point of Mother of the Believers is that if flawed, passionate, complex people like the founders of Islam could find spiritual enlightenment, maybe we can too. So poignant was Pasha’s writing (and being the romantic that I am) that I enjoyed every page. The heart of this novel and the center of Islamic history itself, after all, is a love story—between the Prophet and his wives.

The Burkha Rapper: Sophie Ashraf

Sophie Ashraf performing. Image via BlindBoys.

Sophie Ashraf performing. Image via BlindBoys.

Sophie Ashraf, also known as The Burkha Rapper, is an Indian Muslim female rapper for whom Muslim identity seems central to her art. This comes across clearly in her following statement on the Blind Boys website:

Its like when you really like a band, you wear T-shirts of that band, Well we really, really like Islam, so we wear the burkha. I rap because I cant sing. But I love music, so it had to be rap. Soon, the burkha and the rap formed an identity of itself, and people started recognizing me as the burkha rapper. The Justice Rocks Concert was the first platform where I felt the setting and the timing was right to talk about Islam. The Mumbai attack had just happened and everyone was waiting for a proactive Muslim to come out and say what Islam was about. I was just blown away by the response. There are those who are not convinced about the burkha, sure. Now that we wear it, we feel empty without it, naked. There is a line in the quran that says, “To you, your religion, and to me mine”. And so they are letting me express myself the way I want to. People tend to think that someone who tries to be different and someone who breaks the rules are the same. I work within the rules, but I find those little loopholes that allow me to do my thing. There is this cool anime (Japenese animation) called The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya in which the entire world is made just to amuse her, the main character. Sometimes i feel the world is created just to amuse me. Because things, mashaallah always go right.

The story is accompanied by pictures.

Deconstructing Ashraf’s words makes it obvious that the burqa is central to her work and image.

I have to admit though that my first reaction to the pictures was, “That’s not a burqa!” This looks nothing like the burqa I would form out of my mother’s dupattas as a child while playing “grown up.” Nor does it look like the burqa Muslim heroines in Bollywood films would wear. Nor does it look like the net burqa native to the NWFP of Pakistan.  What we see Ashraf wearing in the pictures looks nothing like traditional South Asian burqas do. I suspect one of two possible things happening here.

The first could be an appropriation of the West’s inaccurate and generic notion of the burqa.  It is almost as if, rather than challenge the inaccuracy in views of the burqa, this inaccurate view has been accepted and perpetuated. The second possibility is the further Arabization of South Asian culture. What we actually see Ashraf wearing is the Middle Eastern hijab and abaya, a recent import into South Asia, not something native to the region.  As abaya is a foreign term, and burqa a native one, what seems to have happened is foreign attire has been given a familiar name, thus making it more palatable to locals. Think of that what you will.

However, speculation aside, the purposeful use of this “burqa” is not hidden in Ashraf’s quote.

Well we really, really like Islam, so we wear the burkha.

Here we see Islam being positioned as a superstar of sorts worthy of having worshiping fans. The donning of the “burkha” by Ashraf, and those like her, has been for the purposes to support her religion, to demonstrate an allegiance, admiration, respect, and desire to emulate Islam. The analogy is young and fun and would be one that would easily attract a younger Muslim population.

Image via BlindBoys.

Image via BlindBoys.

…the burkha and the rap formed an identity of itself, and people started recognizing me as the burkha rapper.

Ashraf’s music and words come from her Muslim identity. From this quote, it is clear that for her the “burkha”, which is a symbol in for Islam itself, and her rapping have become one and cannot be separated. Her art is inevitably shaped by her religion and her religion, perhaps, by her art.

The burqa has also become a platform via which Ashraf has had the opportunity to speak about Islam.

The Mumbai attack had just happened and everyone was waiting for a proactive Muslim to come out and say what Islam was about.

Ashraf’s donning of the “burkha” while rapping has brought her religion to the forefront, which consequently has placed her in a position to represent Islam. And this position is considered to be an active one by Ashraf, as demonstrated by her use of the word “proactive.” As Ashraf has made Islam central to her work, her proactivity as a Muslim has been established.

There are those who are not convinced about the burkha, sure. Now that we wear it, we feel empty without it, naked. There is a line in the quran that says, “To you, your religion, and to me mine”. And so they are letting me express myself the way I want to.

Ashraf recognizes an opposition to the “burkha”–however, no force or compulsion is stated, either for or against wearing it. In fact, a level of comfort permeates through this comment – a physical comfort wearing the “burkha” but also an expressive comfort – a comfort Ashraf feels in being able to express her Muslim-ness and an acceptance she experiences from those around her.

Finally, this final comment demonstrates an intelligent and active engagement with Islam.

People tend to think that someone who tries to be different and someone who breaks the rules are the same. I work within the rules, but I find those little loopholes that allow me to do my thing.

Ashraf shows a comfort with Islam and her knowledge of what she does and does not feel she can follow. This comment demonstrates that Ashraf is actively negotiating with Islam, trying to decipher for herself what Islam means to her, all the while keeping Islam as central to her work.

Overall, Ashraf comes across as a confident, self-aware and active Muslim woman, who uses Islam to shape her life and work and places Islam in a central position in her life. Her desire to defend Islam and present it in a  manner true to her beliefs is apparent. It seems she may be a force to reckon with.

Radical Reform: Tariq Ramadan’s Latest Book

With much anticipation, I awaited the arrival of Tariq Ramadan’s new book, “Radical Reform”, in the mail. A few weeks ago, it finally got here. It is difficult to hide my obvious appreciation for the book, but I will attempt objectivity.

The cover of Ramadan's new book.

The cover of Ramadan's new book.

Ramadan is known in the Muslim world, as a revolutionary, tolerant and forward-thinking scholar by some, and by others he is thought of as too liberal and “westernized”. In the non-Muslim world, Ramadan is also a well known figure, both as a reformist, and surprisingly, an extremist. To his credit, he did make Time’s list of 100 most influential people. He de-mystifies all these contradictions about himself, in this new book, by writing exactly what he stands for, when it comes to Islam and Islamic law.

Radical Reform addresses Muslim societies and communities everywhere, with a bold call for transformation. It challenges those who argue defensively that reform is a dangerous and foreign deviation, and a betrayal of the faith. Authentic reform, Ramadan says, has always been grounded in Islam’s textual sources, spiritual objectives, and intellectual traditions. He goes on, to prove this, through sound argument, using classical texts and historical examples. Nowhere better did he achieve success than in the chapter relating to women – which is not to say women are not addressed elsewhere, as Ramadan speaks to men and women, equally, throughout the book – but that he dedicated an extensive part of the book to women exclusively, is tell-tale of the dilemma’s facing Muslimahs today.

This article will focus primarily on Chapter 13 – Women: Traditions and Liberation.

The title of the chapter is misleading, suggesting a contradiction between “tradition” and “liberation”. This actually belies its content, which elaborates on exactly the opposite. The chapter opens with admittance that the subject matter is touchy, and “upsets some preconceptions and questions certain boundaries of religious legitimacy and power.” I was hooked.

Ramadan maintains firmly that misogyny has to do with, “age old cultural and social heritages that remain deeply ingrained”, not Islam.  I am usually apprehensive about Muslim men addressing women’s issues, but I must admit that this time, Ramadan displays a keen sensitivity towards and understanding of women, without sounding the least bit condescending.

A large part of the chapter explains how to go about approaching and reforming the inequalities facing Muslim women. A wealth of suggestions is provided, but I was disappointed that Ramadan provided no real examples of the implementation of such ideas, which there surely must be. His approach is solely theoretical, which sometimes paints too rosy a picture of Muslim women. That said, he does masterfully deconstruct the myths and stereotypes surrounding Muslim women.

Ramadan writes that in seeking justice, we must look both to scripture, and studies carried out later on, by Muslims and non-Muslims, western feminists included, to get a clear perspective of the underlying causes of sexism. It would be appropriate to mention that Ramadan has previously come under attack by some Muslim women who scoffed at his idea of “Islamic feminism”, which he defended as “Islamic feminism is to struggle for the rights of women in the name of Islam against two kinds of discrimination: cultural discrimination, and the literalist approach to the text.”

After the lengthy introduction, the chapter moves on to discussing “Early Readings, Early Interpreters”.  The role and status of women are analyzed in the light of the Qur’an, and early Islamic history. Muslim women have come to represent only their “functions in society, as daughters, wives and mothers”, according to Ramadan, who does sound a tad defensive of early scholars, whom he says “could not but read the text in the light of their own situation, viewpoint, and context.” Women must be viewed primarily as just that, women, insists Ramadan, by themselves and others, by shedding the different roles ascribed to them. This, I feel, is easier said, than done, in a world where most women must shoulder the responsibilities of the household, even if they pursue other interests. He also calls strongly for contextualization of all texts which speak about women, and boldly states that:

Islamic legal thinking about women is certainly the field that has suffered most from the two phenomena already mentioned: literalist reduction and cultural projection.

This is no new realization: Muslim women have been trying to rid their religion of cultural practices and customs prescribed to it for years. For me, what was important was just to read a prominent Islamic scholar proclaiming it, regardless of his gender. Something else that struck a chord, is:

…it is women who must, from within, refuse to accept that religious discourse about them should be merely legal, and in effect, curtailed, since it deals with interpersonal relations without elaborating anything about womanhood.”

This, the voicing of the pertinence of us women, to map out our own paths, is something which I think we all here at Muslimah Media Watch, contributors and readers alike, are attempting to do.

Now, no discussion about Muslim women is complete without the “H word.” Ramadan’s approach is refreshing, calling for neither strict adherence to, nor abolishment of, hijab, but rather,  he looks at the spirit of modesty:

Much has been said in the West about Muslim women’s dress… Often in reaction, Muslim institutions or scholars have been seen to offer dress as the ultimate expression of faith, or as an act of resistance against Western cultural imperialism. In all cases, the debates have reduced the meaning of modesty itself in the order of means and ends. In the spiritual order, in reflection about being and freedom, understanding the meaning of modesty (whether for men or for women) cannot be limited to the issue of visible modesty in dress.

The chapter continues, at length, to prescribe reform for women in the family and in society, particularly in the masjid. This is, unfortunately, the only reference to practically implementing justice, made by Ramadan:

Mosques today are essentially men’s places, and this does not correspond to the higher objectives of Islam’s message… the bulk of Islam’s message as well as the Prophetic practice suffice to show that the mosques space must be absolutely open to women… This is not so today; not only do some mosques simply have no facilities for women, but when these are available; their state of upkeep is often shocking… so that women are almost being discouraged from attending… this is simply not acceptable! Women must be integrated into mosque management committees in the same way their presence is necessary in reflection and fatawa councils.

I found Ramadan’s take on Muslim women in the media to be quite in tune with the aspirations of MMW:

…the temptation to transform the cause of women into a contemporary media struggle can turn out to be dangerous and counterproductive, quite profoundly and on several levels: first, because we are the heart of a Universe of imposed representations that must be cast aside, but also because the risk is great – and so often verified – of producing a perverse media presence of women subjects who have been transformed into objects of representation.

It is also very tempting for me to re-type the entire chapter here, because I so agree with almost everything said, but let me end with a passage that is extremely poignant, and which I actually found to quite humble Ramadan:

Because some existing texts are sometimes read and interpreted without considering chronology and context, it becomes impossible for some “ulama” to dare express clear, legal opinions in the light of higher objectives. They should, for instance, speak out on the fact that keeping women illiterate and forbidding them to work, reach financial autonomy, or play a social and economic role, as well as such practices as female genital mutilation, forced marriages, the denial of divorce, or restraint against domestic violence, are absolutely contrary to Islam’s message as shown through its evolution (over 23 years) and the Prophet’s own attitude.

Tariq Ramadan does not introduce any new ideas about  Muslim women, but rather, removes the layers of misrepresentation surrounding them, through the errors of Islamic history, and the imposition of Western values. As I mentioned, a lot of his suggestions are easier said than done, but I am optimistic that their being voiced, is a good start.

I am not sure if my praise for the book stems from my own cultural and religious socialization, of the worth of a male scholar’s word, or from the true merit of this work, but I am very hopeful for Muslim women, in the light of everything said in the book.