Archive for category We owe you an apology
I have been trying to reflect on reasons why as converts who had been given to understand that “we are all one umma” and that race and ethnicity don’t matter “in Islam” because the only thing that is relevant is your taqwa, we often faced a significantly different reality. Our ethnic origins and race definitely did matter, and they typically mattered in ways that made us feel like outsiders.
And how did we respond to the complex racial politics that we found ourselves immersed in—both in terms of how our own families and the wider society treated us, and the internal politics of the Muslim communities we become involved in? Esra Ozyurek’s book, Being German, Becoming Muslim: Race, Religion, and Conversion in the New Europe gave me a lot of food for thought about the latter issue.
Ozyurek writes about repeatedly hearing German converts (often white and middle class) saying how fortunate it is that they discovered Islam before meeting Muslims, because if they’d met the Muslims first they probably wouldn’t have converted. (Although in reality, most of the converts had in fact gotten interested in Islam in the first place through a romantic relationship or other encounter with a Muslim.) Or converts repeating and endorsing negative stereotypes about immigrant Muslims (especially Turks) being dirty, disorganized, uneducated, and prone to dishonesty. Or converts faulting immigrant Muslims for “failing to understand Islam properly” or for being so uninformed that they mistake “culture” for “Islam.”
In the last post, I discussed some of the reasons why I and some female converts I know used to wonder where the sisterhood was. The sisterhood that we thought was part and parcel of belonging to the umma, but that somehow we were being shut out of.
Now, looking back, I can’t help but wonder why on earth I didn’t notice who it was who was usually giving the talks and writing the articles about Muslim unity and how we are all one umma and the duties of brotherhood and so forth. It wasn’t usually women. And when it was women, it was usually… converts.
And come to think of it, who was it who was usually giving those sermons about how it’s haraam for Muslims to live in the land of the kufaar, unless they are here for dawa? Or who usually organized those dawa events or wrote those dawa pamphlets? Or who gave advice to Muslim male students on student visas, who were having pangs of conscience about being involved with western girlfriends and thinking that maybe they’d like to marry them but what would their families back home say about them marrying a non-Muslim woman and what about the kids… ? Typically, men again… and the odd female convert.
But what did those immigrant Muslim men, who urged other Muslim men to do dawa, produced the dawa materials, helped organize the dawa events, encouraged men in relationships with non-Muslim women to convert them… have to say to their own daughters, sisters, and wives about how they should relate to the wider non-Muslim society?
Today, I discovered a poem (and a poet) for the first time.
Only some thirty years too late.
And wouldn’t you know it, he’s dead now. He died over a decade ago.
Better late than never, I suppose.
I don’t read poetry much. Don’t have time, for one thing. Am not really very attuned to it, for another. But I tripped across Ahmad Shamlou’s poem, “In this dead-end” by accident. And it hit me so hard. Because unfortunately, I know too much about what he is talking about:
In this dead-end
They smell your breath
You had better not have said, ‘I love you.’
They smell your heart.
These are strange times, darling…
And they flog love at the checkpoint
We must hide love in the closet.
In this crooked dead end and twisting chill
they feed the fire with the kindling of song and poetry
Do not risk a thought
These are strange times, darling
He who knocks on the door at midnight
has come to kill the light
We must hide light in the closet.
There are the butchers stationed at the crossroads
with bloody clubs and cleavers
These are strange times, darling
They cut smiles from lips and songs from mouths
We must hide joy in the closet.
Canaries barbequed on a fire of lilies and jasmine
These are strange times, darling
Satan is drunk with victory, sitting at our funeral feast
We must hide God in the closet.
‘Tis Hallowe’en, and the wind is wuthering around the window in a spooky sort of way. Nowhere near the witching hour yet… which is lucky, because my youngest kid has gone out trick-or-treating with friends, and had better be back home well before that. Sitting here by the window and waiting for said kid to reappear, I can’t help remembering that not too many years ago, this would be inconceivable.
We didn’t let our kids go out for Hallowe’en. Back when I was a hyper-conservative Muslim, Hallowe’en was verboten in the circles I moved in.
Back in the ’80’s when I converted, the subject of Hallowe’en (as well as a whole slew of other holidays and special occasions) was a very controversial topic in the Muslim community I was living in at the time. I remember sermons preached on the evils of Hallowe’en—how it is a pagan holiday that used to involve appeasing the spirits of the dead. And how dressing up as ghosts and devils and witches and whatnot makes a joke out of what is really a very serious matter. Because the power of Satan and demons are real, and anything to do with witchcraft or trying to contact such evil supernatural beings is strictly forbidden and so not to be turned into a child’s game. And anything “pagan” in origin was of course absolutely incompatible with monotheism, anyway.
Recently, Muslim converts—particularly, white, middle-class female converts from North America—are in the news again, thanks to the attack in Boston. And not in a good way.
I’ve been too heartsick to blog about it.
The (white, female, North American) convert responses to this latest situation that I have so far been able to find online deal with two main issues: the stereotypical media portrayals that imply that there is a connection between putting on hijab and becoming radicalized, and media portrayals that imply that female converts who marry immigrant Muslims don’t have agency. In other words, these converts don’t want to be put in the same category as Katherine Russell. They don’t want people making assumptions about why they converted, or why they wear hijab (for those who do), or what their relationships with their husbands are like.
Well, that’s understandable. In the more than two decades in which I lived as a conservative, hijab-wearing Muslim, I had to put up with a lot of assumptions about why I converted, why I wore hijab… and I had to deal with patronizing dismissals of my agency. And not only from non-Muslims, I might add. The stereotypes about female converts—that we don’t really know anything about Islam, and/or that we were motivated to convert by emotion or a desire to please a Muslim man—were not uncommon among the immigrant Muslims that I dealt with. So, enough with the stereotypes already.
But. To my mind, rejecting such stereotypes shouldn’t be the end of the discussion. It should be the beginning. And now that we’ve done that, can the discussion move on to more important things than headscarves and alleged initial reasons for converting. Things like what resources there are that might be available to converts who find themselves getting in way over their heads.