February 18, 2009

The results of a new study on Arab women in Dearborn, Mich., have been released. The study revealed that women who wear “traditional clothing” (code word for hijab) are prone to lower levels of vitamin D because of less exposure to sunlight. Two articles on the study (here and here) read like,  “Oh noes! Those poor hijabis who get no sunlight will get so sick!” This recent study is just the latest in a line of studies on hijabis in various parts of the world which all have the same result: hijabis don’t get enough sunlight and hence don’t get enough vitamin D. We’re told of all the risks of not getting enough vitamin D: increased risk of cancer, diabetes, Crohn’s disease, multiple sclerosis, heart disease and infections.

I am highly skeptical of these studies and the way they’re framed in the media. Not because of the results (if hijabis aren’t getting enough vitamin D, then we need to go about other ways of getting it), but because they all seem to have the same message: hijab is making you sick! There are many ways to get vitamin D, with exposure to sunlight being just one of them. You can also get vitamin D through diet. However, what is stressed in the two articles about the study is that hijabis don’t get enough vitamin D compared to non-hijabis despite the fact that the study also found “There was no difference in rates of health problems linked to vitamin D deficiency, such as bone or joint pain or breaks, or muscle weakness” between women in the study who wear hijab and women who don’t. In the Scientific American post, we’re given multiple quotes about how hijabis can’t enough vitamin D even from diet.

While heavy doses of vitamin D are available in supplements, the body manufacturers the most through sun exposure (admittedly in short supply in early spring in Michigan, when the study was done), Hobbs says. The vitamin naturally occurs in only a few foods, including mackerel, tuna, salmon and eggs, and it’s added to milk in the U.S. To get the recommended 1,000 International Units of vitamin D a day (or no more than 2,000), you’d have to drink 20 glasses of milk daily, or eat 80 eggs, Hobbs says. Spend a few minutes in the sunshine, though, and your body will make 10,000 to 20,000 units, he says.

So what am I or any other hijabi suppose to take away from this study? That unless I take off my hijab I’m not ever going to get enough vitamin D? That makes me feel very hopeful.

What was also troubling was that the study was only done on Arab American women. The Muslim community in the U.S., even in the Detroit area, is really diverse. Why were only Arab American women used in the study? Why weren’t women from other ethnic groups who wear hijab also used? This is troubling to me because it once again reinforces the idea that Muslim=Arab. The way the Freep.com article and Scientific American post were framed reinforced this idea. The titles of the articles are “Vitamin low in Arab women” and “Does modest dress among Arab-American women promote vitamin D deficiency?”, yet the bulk of both articles focus on hijabis. The article itself says that vitamin D levels were higher in women who didn’t wear hijab and since the study was done on Arab women, I assume that the women who didn’t wear hijab were also Arab. Also, there are Arabs who aren’t Muslim. Yet the articles are framed in such a way that equates Arab with Muslim.

So while it’s good to know that I should be conscious of my vitamin D intake, I also know that studies like these aren’t perfect.

December 24, 2008

American hijabis often have a lot to think about when they step outside their doors. Will we be denied a job because of hijab? Will we be asked to take off our hijabs at work or school? Will our hijabs make us a target for racists and xenophobes? Will we be pulled out of line at the airport because of our hijabs? However, one place we don’t expect hijab to cause us issue is in court. In courtrooms throughout the U.S., Muslim women wear hijab and Muslim men wear kufis if they’re inclined to do so. My mother, who is a social worker, wears hijab when accompanying clients to court.

Lisa Valentine. Image via AP.
Lisa Valentine. Image via AP.

So it must have been completely shocking for Lisa Valentine to be denied entry into a Georgia courtroom because of her headscarf. I’m sure it was one of the most racist incidents in her entire life. Despite the fact that Valentine’s civil rights were violated and this incident was inspired by racism, the media’s coverage of Lisa Valentine’s ordeal has been mixed at best.

One constant issue that I have in the reporting of Valentine’s ordeal is the reporting of her using a swear word. Every article and news clip on this story has mentioned it. “When she turned to leave and uttered an expletive, Hall said a bailiff handcuffed her and took her before the judge.” “Frustrated at being prevented from entering the court, the woman reportedly uttered an expletive and sought to leave the area.

Why is this fact so important to mention in every news story about Lisa Valentine? Wouldn’t a lot of people use an expletive if they were denied access to court? It’s almost as if the mention of Valentine’s use of a swear word is being reported as a cause for her arrest instead of a law that was abused by the bailiff and the judge. I wonder if the mention of Valentine using an expletive is to make her seem at fault or to simply make hijabis look bad. Either way, I found the constant mention of this fact to be really annoying and unnecessary. She cursed. So what? No matter what Valentine said, there’s no reason why she should have been arrested and sentenced to ten days in court.

Additionally, the coverage of Valentine’s ordeal hasn’t focused much on the racial dimensions of the incident. Valentine’s civil rights were violated because she is a Muslim. Even though she was barred from the court because of her “headwear”, her headwear was religious in nature. There’s little mention of the fact that Valentine’s headwear wasn’t ordinary headwear at all but part of her religious attire. In most of the stories I’ve read on Valentine, this distinction isn’t made except by Valentine herself.

Also, I have seen no discussion of how xenophobia and Islamophobia probably influenced what happened. I doubt that a nun would be asked to take off her habit in court because Catholics are not seen as foreign. However, Islam and symbols associated with it (such as hijab) are. Without looking at the issues at these issues, the stories on Valentine seem incomplete.

December 11, 2008

I admit, the title put me off a little. Princess Hijab? But when I looked through her flicker albums, I was blown away.

hijabizing14Princess Hijab is an anonymous 20-year-old guerilla street artist based in Paris, who began her “noble cause” of “hijab-ising” advertisements in 2006. She does this by using spray paint and a black marker to cover women’s faces and bodies in ads, or by pasting “hijab ad” posters everywhere she goes.

There’s no way of knowing if Princess Hijab is a hijabi. Or even a Muslim. And although I don’t really ‘get’ art, I find her work fascinating. According to her profile page on Art Review:

Princess Hijab explores notions of space and possible types of representation, contrasting the normative representations of the public sphere with her personal iconoclastic approach […] She is known for her subversive work within the public space and for her “diy” and “grrl” attitude.

She takes the veil/ hijab/ chador, which a number of French citizens believe is incompatible with the main principles of French secularism and would prefer it to remain in the private sphere, and brings it firmly into the public sphere. In her own words:

I would say my work is inspired from the anti-consumerist movements. I’m an advertising hijabist. In other words, I cover all advertising with a black veil, which is a dark symbol, a reference on pop culture, and a way to hide elegantly advertising. It is also a study on territories and identities.

So her driving force is anti-consumerism, which ties in to her finding it distasteful for women’s bodies to be used to sell products. She believes she’s “subverting visuals,” though not in an American way, whatever that may be.

She also says that “Princess Hijab knows that L’Oréal and Dark&Lovely have been killing her little by little,” which might also mean that she dislikes being forcefully exposed to bodies everywhere. (Interestingly she’s also hijabised a few men).

But, she’s never said anywhere that she’s doing it because she believes women should be covered yada yada, which I find refreshing. She says that she’s not a member of any political, religious, or anti-ad group, and that she’s only doing this out of a sense of artistic responsibility. And boy, is she artistic! Her art is extremely colorful, funky and comes in all shapes, forms, styles and sizes.

I think I’d actually love it if it turns out she’s not a Muslim, because it lends credibility to the idea that the dislike of being exposed to “visual aggression” is not necessarily rooted in religious belief. Fed up with women being used to sell products, hijabising ads could be a way to “take back” women’s rights to their bodies.

print09Her first hijab ad (pictured left), is one many bloggers believe is her self portrait. Quite simply, it’s a poster of an average looking woman in a headscarf (though we can debate her chosen ethnicity), neither smiling nor frowning, with the words “Hijab Ad” written underneath it. A simple, in your face statement which I believe says: “We are here. We exist.”

Another Hijab Ad features a laughing side profile of a woman in a headscarf. Princess Hijab prints three of the posters side by side—one in a red scarf, one in a white scarf, and one in a blue scarf: the colors of the French flag. They’re life-size and make a strong statement. Simplicity at its best. *

mardinoir2Another one of her hijab ads (pictured right) is more controversial, showing a woman in what seems to be a chador, though it ends above her knees and at her elbows. She’s wearing heels, sunglasses, and holding what appears to be a gun.

Now, there are a few issues here. The sunglasses and the heels seem to be telling us that just because this woman is covered, her sexuality has not disappeared. The gun could be a metaphor of her strength. Unfortunately, I can’t say that I believe an image of a veiled woman holding a gun would go over very well in France, where instead of being seen as a symbol of feminine power, it might be seen as an instrument of vengeance against the ‘uncovered’ woman. Especially since in her manifesto Princess Hijab writes:

[Princess Hijab] knows all about visual terrorism! […] Make sure that all advertising can be hijabized “‘caus that’s her fight Jihad is her art.”

Chador. Gun. Terrorism. Jihad. Not a good combination.

And although Princess Hijab calls herself the “leader of an artistic fight, nothing else,” it would be simplistic to say that the hijabising of ads is just a protest against showing ‘flesh’ in advertisements. Depending on how you look at her art, it could have deeper implications, and may even help change what hijab represents. The word hijab has been infused with so many meanings—perhaps she’s trying to bring a new dimension to the table. She says:

“The black hijab encompasses every existing form of distinction.”

Deep. In an earlier quote, she said the black veil was a “dark symbol,” which I’m not exactly sure is perhaps the best way to describe it, given the connotations of the word ‘dark.’ She’s also written in her manifesto:

She feels that the veil is no longer that white. She feels contaminated. […] Princess Hijab will go on, veiled and alone, forever asserting her physical and mental integrity. By day, she wears a white veil, symbol of purity. By night, her black veil is the expression of her vengeful fight for a cause.

What do you all think of her white/black veil metaphor? Omar, a blogger from Jordan, writes:

[Princess Hijab] shares her views and artistically discusses the sense of distinction and the submergence of the possible identity, through her portrayal of the generic black-veiled figures that are occasionally presented in this highly-feminine mould. It’s visually striking and it’s causing a stir, yet most importantly a different view from a different perspective. It could turn the hijab into an urban art feminine iconography to voice a number of opinions.

Whatever she’s doing, she’s definitely making an impact. This year, her work was exhibited at the Urban Jealousy Biennale, at the Interkulturel Museum in Norway. It will also be featured in the next issue of the Spanish magazine Fake. Her art has also inspired many artists to follow in her footsteps, using her methods to hijabise many ads.

For more about her, visit her website, though it’s been down for a few days.

All pictures are from Princess Hijab’s Flickr stream.

Update: You may have noticed that we have posted different pictures. We have done so at the request of Princess Hijab. We apologize to our readers for any inconvenience.

Update 2/23/10: The paragraph above was removed due to the fact that the artwork referenced was not by Princess Hijab, but is in fact by MardiNoir. Thank you to Eva Shakouri Torreadrado for notifying us.

November 20, 2008

I’m a member of a group called BuSSy, which aims to raise awareness of women’s issues in Egypt. Every year, we put on a play which we call “the Egyptian version of the Vagina Monologues:” real stories written by real women.

So how excited was I when I found out that one of the co-founders and the writer of The Hijabi Monologues was here in Cairo? And that she’d actually seen our performance this year? Small world.

We’ve written a small post about them before, but I decided to interview Sahar, and see what she had to say.

According to their facebook group:

The Hijabi Monologues is about the power of storytelling.

It is about creating a space for American Muslim women to share their voices; a space to breathe as they are; a space that does not claim to tell every story and speak for every voice.

Through the power of storytelling, generalizations and categories are challenged. Through stories, strangers touch and connect. Through stories, the story-teller and listener are humanized.

Hijabi Monologues: Our stories. Our words.

The project began in summer 2006 by Zeenat Rahman, Dan Morrison and Sahar Ullah, all graduates of Chicago University. One day Dan, who was used to asking his “brown Muslim girlfriends” all the difficult questions, looked at Sahar and said “You know what? We should start a hijabi monologues.”

And so it began. The monologues are written by 26-year-old Sahar Ullah (pictured left) and performed by both her and Leena El-Arian, both currently studying in Cairo.

Unfortunately, they’ve only performed once in Egypt, and I didn’t manage to catch them. So Sahar (very kindly) sent me three scripts, and let’s just say if she was able to evoke so many emotions in me just by reading the scripts, then watching her perform them must be something else.

The stories run a gamut of emotions: from a comedic one talking about all the types of guys that hit on hijabis (“There’s the Mack-tivist. […] the one who prefaces his introduction with, “So, I just finished reading the autobiography of Malcolm X” and then proceeds with, “Man, I was so busy last weekend. You know, there was the pro-Palestinian rally and the pro-immigration rights/animals are our friends not food/make love not war protest”) to a poignant one where Leena El-Arian talks about what it was like when the FBI stormed her home and arrested her father, Palestinian professor Sami El-Erian.

(You can watch a short video about The Hijabi Monologues here)

All in all, the monologues aim to create a better understanding of what it means to be an American Muslim hijabi (and not focus on the hijab itself, which is cool). As mentioned in a Common Ground News article:

Re-narration, a psychoanalytical technique for dealing with past experiences […] causes people to transform the way they see traumatic events from threatening and personal, to neutral and objective. When traumatic events are looked at through this lens, the sadness, wounds, scars and tears become superficial, neutralising the hurt.

The Hijabi Monologues is [an] example of re-narration. […] Through the power of re-narration, claims are challenged and generalisations confronted. Listeners gain access to shared human experiences and an enriched understanding of the lives of these women, which transcend superficial judgments based on their appearance

Only with true storytelling, listening and understanding can the shadow that is locked in the subconscious of both Muslims and Westerners — including Muslim Westerners — be released. Only then can bridging and reconciliation attempts yield successful results.

And with only just over half a dozen performances under its belt, The Hijabi Monologues are striking a chord-other people have requested the scripts, and the first performance of the monologues independently from the group was held yesterday in California.

So, here’s my (slightly edited for coherency) interview with Sahar:

Q: Tell me a bit about your background.

I’m of Bangladeshi descent. I triple majored as an undergraduate in the University of Miami: Religious studies, English literature and Political science.

My first window into Middle Eastern Studies was politics. I decided to do Middle Eastern studies at the University of Chicago and wrote my thesis about the ideas of female beauty in the modern Middle East, focusing on Egyptian film. I met Dan and Zeena through a concert we were organizing with Muslim artists.

Q: Not all women are hijabi—why the title?

Dan thought of it and he and Zeena are in charge of marketing (she’s the face of Interfaith Youth Core (IFYC)). And once we started collecting and writing stories, it just stuck. At that time, 2006-2007, there was a lot of media coming out about in the US: anthologies of Muslim women, hijab etc. Gag! When you look at those stories for so long you’re like, it’s boring!

We never claim to speak for all women and we make that very clear before we begin any performance, saying that these are the stories of some women. Every anthology now you find people trying to talk about a representative sample and it’s annoying.

But then, if it’s for Muslim American women, why is it called the hijabi monologues? As you say, not all Muslim women are hijabis. We’re not discriminating by leaving out stories and we’re not leaving them to say those stories aren’t important. But in any type of women’s movement it will never work if you say you represent all experiences.

So with the hijabi monologues this is how I’ve conceptualized the title—first of all the title evokes the famous Vagina monologue so people immediately think “Muslim version of the vagina monologues!” and I’m like ok, marketing-wise, that’s good. Because people will think we’re progressive, supportive of feminist causes etc and brings in a certain crowd.

Second, Hijabi the way it’s used in the American Muslim context is very much American Muslim lingo: It’s a Muslim woman in a headscarf, but it’s not muhajaba. Most Muslim Americans aren’t Arab or have studied Arabic so the word hijabi is part of the American Muslim subculture lingo.

Third, when a lot of people come to the program they expect us to talk about hijab. None of the stories speak about hijab, and the hijab is not the centerpiece of any story. The characters themselves happen to wear hijab. So in a way if there’s a connection to or parallel with The Vagina Monologues, I would say it’s the inverse.

The Vagina Monologues take something that’s really private and personifies it by giving it a voice: “my vagina is angry.” But we don’t say my hijab is angry because people have already infused so many meanings into the hijab—as if it speaks when actually it’s about a woman’s experience. So we take what’s so public and people have given a voice and we push it out of people’s figurative faces by allowing a person who has a captured audience to give women a voice.

Q: But what happens when other women want to perform this? Who may not be veiled or even Muslim?

We discussed it again recently because of the new trajectory we’re taking. But to be the character they’d have to wear the hijab.

Every time I think of women’s experiences in The Vagina Monologues, I think of race. In American literature there’s a body of literature that talks about ideas of “passing” in terms of a black person passing for a white person. What happens when someone passes? They’re sitting right in front of you and you don’t know their identity, which is big because race is so important in the U.S. But hjiab can’t pass. What happens when you can’t pass?

Muslim women, we all have common experiences, but there’s a certain perception you bring about yourself—even when you aren’t that person—when you have a certain color or appearance. So hijab is very important in those stories. I even told Dan you wouldn’t have said hijabi monologues if I didn’t wear hijab. You would have said, let’s put you on Saturday night live. Or let’s do a “Brown Girls Monologues.” [Laughs]

I also told Zeena if we were to include women who don’t wear hijab all the time, that’s ok but conceptually lets try to make it consistent. It’s true that non-hijabis have their own experiences that are very different from hijabis’. Zeena, for example, tells me that people tell her things she don’t think they would if she were hijabi because they assume because she’s not hijabi she thinks in a certain way.

Q: Good enough! So how did the idea come about?

I was talking to [Dan] about how weird it is in Middle Eastern studies when you have so many people with some connection to it who think of it as that place over there and study it as this fascinating subject but believe they have no connection to it when they do.

He just looked at me and said “You know what? We should do a hijabi monologues.” I said, ok whatever! Dan works for the Clinton Global Initiative and started an NGO called One Well. He comes from an Irish catholic family and is very white and bald. He’s very open-minded and conscious of his white privilege and he kept saying we could do it.

He called me again and told me to start writing stories and I said ok though I was like “what? I’m going to start writing stories about myself and other Muslim women?” He said, just start doing it. He also told me “you have no idea how your story has changed me and my perspective on Muslim women and I tell your stories to my very white corporate friends.” It’s really amazing how that personal touch changes how people view Muslim women. It really does change people so I said ok.

Q: How did evolve into what it is today?

A poster for the performance. Image via The Hijabi Monologue's Facebook group.
A poster for the performance. Image via The Hijabi Monologue

In the beginning it was just my experiences. We started with the idea of a documentary film but I wasn’t feeling it and I felt we needed to go out and ask women their stories. I was writing these stories when I realized that though not everybody is a storyteller, everyone has stories to tell. In the beginning we said it needs to be straight out of women’s mouths, but then I said, well not all these women would want to get up on stage like the one about the immigrant woman who gets HIV from her husband, or the Muslim girl who gets pregnant.

At this stage, I was just writing. Then one day my Palestinian neighbor (Leena El-Arian) was invited to speak in a lecture about her father’s case and she said she wanted me to come too (I had been sharing some of the stories I’d written with her). So I said what would I do? And the professor said talk about Muslim women. I was like, I hate that topic! [Laughs] I said, what do you want me to talk about, not only is it so done but it’s so…

So I told him I’m working on a project and I’m going to try it out on your students. He said ok. I told the stories I brought and you know what? When you’re interacting with an audience it’s completely different. Leena talked about the facts of her father’s case but that’s not what really got them, it was when she talked about missing her father, how it was like seeing him taken away by the FBI. People empathize. And that’s when I saw what Dan was saying because I could see in the student’s faces how they were taking it in. It was so important for me to see the shift—how people in the beginning were really skeptical of us, knowing us as cardboard cutouts but then changed.

In the beginning I was uncomfortable, thinking, “am I making a spectacle of Muslim women? Is this voyeuristic? Am I playing into “let’s look into their lives?” But it’s not. It has to be done and it has to be done well and that’s what we’re all working on.

You can reach the group at hijabi.monologues@gmail.com

November 5, 2008

Ghada El-Tawil (pictured below) is an Egyptian anchorwoman who just recently returned to television. Six years ago, she was pulled from television after she began wearing a headscarf. The BBC has published a new story about El-Tawil in which she discusses her legal battle, why she wears hijab, and the struggles for Egyptian hijabis in the media. El-Tawil is not the only woman in Egypt who was pulled off the air after deciding to wear hijab. Her story highlights issues of image in the media–even media in a Muslim country where many women wear hijab.

Ghada El Tawil. Image via BBC.
Ghada El Tawil. Image via BBC.

Even now, El-Tawil does not know why her employer, Channel 5 in Alexandria, initially took her off the air. She speculates that her employer might view hijab as being associated with religious fanaticism. “I don’t know for sure why the management doesn’t like us wearing it. Maybe they thought we belonged to a very religious group, or something. They never gave us a proper reason.” I also wonder if the reason for the initial decision is because of the emphasis on women’s image in the media, even in the news. Was El-Tawil no longer seen as being attractive when she began to wear hijab? Did her employer feel that El-Tawil would not be taken seriously as a hijabi? Even now, El-Tawil has only been given one of her original posts (presenting a discussion program that is aimed mostly at women). She has not been given back her other post: reporting the English news bulletin.

El-Tawil’s reasons for wearing hijab may be based on an exclusive reading of the Qur’an (“The rule is, when a girl gets her first period, she has to cover her hair. I didn’t – but sometimes you don’t do many things you should”). However, whether one agrees with her reasoning for wearing hijab, El-Tawil brings up another relevant point, which is that a lot of Muslim Egyptian women wear hijab. I say this point is relevant because it further begs the question of why the Egyptian television media would not want women on air who look like many Egyptian women. Non-representation or under-representation of certain segments of a population is a problem that affects television news media throughout the world. In fact, I wish El-Tawil would have expanded on that point and more importantly, what the implications are for both hijabis and non-hijabis in Egyptian society.

El-Tawil brought up important points, but I wished she had gone into more depth about the issues she discussed. She may have been limited by space constraints (the BBC does limit how much one can write for their site) or her story may have been edited. Despite this, I think her story is a starting point for representations of Muslim women in television news.

Editor’s Note: You can read more about El Tawil’s legal battle in this piece from the BBC from last year.

September 24, 2008

It seems that lately there is a lot of focus on hijab fashion. Not too long ago, I wrote an entry for MMW about this issue. Everywoman, a program produced by Al Jazeera English, did a piece on hijabi fashion. The program looked at the fashion choices of a group of hijabis in England in one of their episodes. The piece seemed rather odd, since it came right after a segment that focused on a Buddhist woman trying to gain ordination as a monk. But I digress.

From the beginning of the segment, I found so many things that rubbed me the wrong way. The first was that good old dichotomy between “Western” fashion and being modest. The host, Shiulie Ghosh, introduces the segment by asking how Muslim women in the West combine the need to modest and the desire to be fashionable. When did “modest” and “fashionable” become antonyms? Hijabis stay “fashionable” the way all other women who want to be “fashionable” do. It’s not rocket science. Also, what is our definition of modesty? I know this point has been hounded, but we really do say a lot when automatically equate hijabis with modesty. Are Muslim women who don’t wear not modest?

Another reason why I find the “how do hijabis manage to be so fashionable?” inquiries so annoying is because they mostly otherize hijabis. I always get the sense the inquiries aren’t made out of a genuine sense of curiosity, but rather a sense of trying to wrap one’s head around the other.

Then the host of the segment, Amani Zain, asks what do you do when you’re in a society where the fashion is geared towards hot pants and strapless tops? This also made me pause. I didn’t know that every woman in the West wore this type of fashion. My mother didn’t wear hot pants or strapless tops even before she converted to Islam. Women in the West don’t all dress alike. Some wear hot pants and some like my mother wear long skirts. Why is there a constant need by many in the media to create this either/or dichotomy between “Western” women and Muslim women? I put Western in quotation marks because when we constantly compare Western women and Muslim women we assume that Muslim women cannot be Western, even if there are Muslim women like myself and most of the writers on this blog who were born and raised in Western societies.

Zain went shopping with one hijabi. She talked about how accessorizes her clothing and goes to shops that cater to hijabis. Most of what the woman said was not new, especially for other hijabis. In fact, as I watched, I kept wondering what the big deal was. I suppose it is hard for me to put myself in the shoes of a non-Muslim who may be watching the show, but I don’t know if a non-Muslim would really learn much from the show either. The same woman who spoke a few times about dressing in accordance with how her “Creator” commands her to dress. She seemed a bit oblivious to the fact that not all Muslims believe that the Qur’an mandates hijab. This is probably nitpicking, but I think statements like that do reinforce to a non-Muslim audience a homogenous thought about hijab that does not exist among Muslims.

Lastly, hijabi fashion stories reinforce the idea that all women care about being pretty and keeping up with the latest fashion trends. Hijabis are forced into mainstream ideals of beauty. On the website for Everywoman, one of the stated missions for the show is to “dig deeper to uncover the stories that women want told.” So stories like the hijab fashion piece reinforce the notion that women want to be told about how to be pretty. Some women may indeed want that. However, I question if that should be a on news show that is suppose to cover serious issues that women care about.

November 25, 2015

“Do not let your difficulties fill you with anxiety, after all it is only in the darkest nights that stars shine more brightly” – Ali Ibn Abu Talib (RA)

Only from darkness can we see light. Only from struggle do we understand the roots of solidarity. These days in Toronto, these expressions could not be more true.

After the horrific series of terrorist acts in Beirut, Baghdad, Ankara and Paris it can not seem to be anything but dark. Even gloomier for Muslims around the world who have been asked to apologize, justify or take responsibility for the actions of violent terrorists. It is safe to say that Muslims are expected to condemn and react quickly to denounce any extremist activity. Even then we know we will be served an extra large helping of hate and anger, deep-fried in bigotry. Is there a way to fight back? Can we rise up and push back against this virulent form of intimidation and injustice? Can we protect ourselves, our integrity as we are exhausted by fighting stereotypes and an unforgiving media?

Source
Source

Yes, we can. As long as we focus on sisterhood, solidarity and prepare ourselves physically and mentally. Yes, we can keep having conversations about what we will do and ideas about how to protect ourselves. Yes, we can definitely kick ass, insha’Allah. And it can be bright. It can accelerate into a movement powered by sisterhood.

Backlash against Muslims is always expected. Those of us who were adults during 9/11 remember the hatred unleashed in retaliation. We know the wars that were started in the name of ‘Freedom’ that had everything to do with money and oil. They propelled fear and ignorance while simultaneously destabilizing our home countries.

The aftermath of the attacks in Paris are no different. The victims are from many communities- including ours.

But the attacks on Muslims, or those mistaken as Muslim, came quickly in Toronto. Retribution, for crimes innocent people did not commit, was swift. Feeling frustrated, I penned a piece after being bombarded with news of attacks of Muslim women close to my home. In my piece, I wrote that “retaliating against terrorism with violent racism is also terrorism”.

Violence against women is not something new. There is anti-Black violence by law enforcement, disregard for over 1200 missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada, both are part of an on-going system rooted in control and misogyny.
While targeted violence against Muslim women is terrifying, there have been incredible efforts to organize, mobilize and create spaces of learning and sharing.

Non-Muslim Allies jumped in to show solidarity , some have offered to host sessions in their own martial arts spaces, and some offered great online tips  – but more importantly it was the how different communities of Muslimahs in Toronto reacted that really inspired me.

Women across this metropolis started by connecting, sharing networks and setting up at least 12 self-defense workshops across the Greater Toronto Area. Some of these sessions are free (from community donors) and some required a fee to pay for rental spaces. Outburst! coalition took initiative to locate Muslimah self-defense instructors and offer a subsidized, two hour class. They are looking to do at least four more. This is part of the message from their Facebook event page:

The recent public attacks of Muslim women in Toronto have made many of us fearful. We know it’s never our fault when we are attacked. Some of us want to strengthen our options to stay safer, this is one way to do it. Join us for an early evening of self-defense, sisterhood, and resistance!”

This message reflect far more than simply learning techniques to protect one’s self. It is enshrined in the idea of community strength and solidarity. Women supporting each other to fight back, to strike, to use their voices, to protect their bodies, to use their agency and to be angry.

It is important to recognize feelings of fear and frustration. Being in safe spaces where Muslim women are uniting in their stand against physical attacks is a part of how we continue to grow as a community and as a sisterhood.

I spoke to Aaida Mamuji, a friend and a boxer who, could quite possibly destroy any racist scumbag trying to attack her because of her hijab. I asked her thoughts on these self-defense initiatives. “For me, both inner and outer strength go hand-in-hand,” she said. “One augments the other.  When we are faced with situations where we feel vulnerable on the inside, remembering our body’s physical strength and potential helps carry us through.”

Some of these session have been held in private homes, or in community centre gyms, but all have been the brainchildren of Muslim women wanting to ‘do something’ in response to the violence against the women of our community.

There is a place for strength and self-preservation in our practice of Islam. Discussions on this are important for sharing information and reassurance. I asked a few Muslim women on my Facebook page if they felt self-defense classes were important or even necessary. The answers were overwhelmingly positive and frankly, similar in nature.

Zainab wrote: “Self defense makes you recognize the power that your own body is capable of, and the strength that you contain within yourself. Not only does it help you protect yourself, but it makes you more familiar with your body and its abilities – and it gives you a measure of control that women are rarely told they even have or are capable of.”

Paige, a Personal Trainer reminded us of the importance of being aware of surroundings: “Physical training gives you a wonderful sense of empowerment and control in life, even when everything is out of control. Self defense important for all women, it teaches you not only how to defend yourself but also to be aware of what is going on and escape routes to take to avoid danger.”

Laila explained how specific skill empowered her: “I took martial arts for almost ten years of my life, and there is an indelible sense of power that you gain, a confidence, a swagger that is necessary amidst a world where safety for Muslim women is never guaranteed. I was able to take down grown men, able to break through materials, and cause harm using everyday objects – and now, when I’m harassed or followed, I am cognizant of the power I have to kick ass – and that is everything.”

Saara was succinct: “Working on strength makes you feel strong. Feeling strong makes you feel capable. Feeling capable makes you kick ass. Not rocket science.”

My friend Aina added: “it’s quite sad women have to be on the defensive all the time” and I agree with her. But in the absence of an immediate feeling of safety this is a great alternative. Some women may choose to restrict their movements or going out alone and that is their choice. I had a woman tell me she decided to stop wearing hijab as a result. These are real issues that arise from the fear of being a victim of a direct violent attack. As women we often think about safety and how we can protect ourselves. But to move forward in a way that is a powerful reminder of the resilience of Muslim women, is where the mental game stays

I would never argue that the targeted violence on Muslimahs lead to a wonderfully warm bonding event. This entire exercise is to strengthen ourselves and our community.

My close friend, Noor Al Mosawi, who has a Black Belt in Karate reminded me of the importance of maintaining position and strong energy. As much as anger might be  resonating, it is crucial to stay steadfast and focused in learning. She reminded me that practice and implementation of self-defense requires positive headspace. Acknowledging our emotions is important but to be controlled and focused will be the most important component. I am planning to attend a session this week with my daughter. I truly hope that I will never be in a position to have to put what I learn into practice. Taking Noor with me everywhere as a body guard is not a realistic option (I already asked her).

I do feel strongly that attending these sessions can inject women with a sensibility and perhaps a skill set that may help protect them. From a place that seems dark, we can inject a very powerful light, and fight.

We can’t change the evil in people but we can strike back: with a tight jab to the nose, a sharp poke in the eye, or strong kick to the shin of an Islamophobe. And we can use our voices; to scream when in danger, to support each other and to amplify what a force we can be.


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