muslim women

Gladdy’s Wake

mandy — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

It took me a while to really sink my teeth into Gladdy’s Wake. The book weaves in and out of three generations, each tying together through family, hints of religion, and the story of Nawal Habib, a devout Muslim. Nawal (once Janie Kelly) is suspected of terrorism, an act that reunites her with her estranged brother, Frank (now a priest) and hospitalized father, Daniel (a once devout Catholic); both of whom she left to eventually reinvent herself as Nawal Habib. The story runs through Nawal’s family tragedy, her rebellion, the birth of her son, and eventual religious transformation, all the while introducing the reader to her grandfather, James Kelly, a womanizing Irish immigrant interested in fast cash with no real ethical principles, lest it regard his passion: Gladdy Sage.

Though each story is captivating, the book is fractured and difficult to engage in. It seemed that each time I fell into the story, the author interfered with an abrupt switch from one narrator to the next. It was not until the near end of the novel that Anderson’s transitions became fluid and absorbing, the way a book should really grab your attention and not let go.

Nevertheless, the story is a unique twist on the post-9/11 novel and introduces the reader to the challenges of belief systems and the interconnectedness of the human race through the passion of moral conviction. While the protagonists devote their lives to different ideologies, from Islam to Catholicism, atheism and the idolization of romantic love, each struggle with the reality of their idols and the conflicts that exist within themselves and their systems of belief. In this way, Gladdy’s Wake takes a critical look into how we follow faith and why we accepts conceptions of the “moral life” that contradict our character.

Nawal struggles with jihad and the role of women in Islam; Frank with the Catholic vilification of his hidden sexual orientation; Michael Kaminsky (Gladdy’s object of affection and James Kelly’s match) struggles with his Jewish heritage in the Communist revolution; and James Kelly with the real Gladdy Sage – an alcoholic escapist, devoted to Michael Kaminsky and the drink. None of the characters in Anderson’s novel are able to see their deities for what they are. Each blinds himself or herself, excusing as a way of maintaining the pedestal upon which they have placed their flawed idea of morality.

In turn, the story employs a seemingly fractured start to reveal the connection between the disconnected by relating the characters on a moral level. In this way, the author recovers her initial shortcomings. Though this lends the question, what makes a book? Its ability to capture its audience upfront, or to engage its reader with a critical approach to a heavy issue?

Written by: Ani Colekessian, April 22nd 2011

My Sisters Made of Light

mandy — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Jacqueline St. Joan

Press 53

When I attended the book signing for Jacqueline St. Joan’s novel My Sisters Made of Light, I knew nothing about the book aside from its inspiration: a chance encounter between St. Joan, an American domestic violence activist, and Aisha, a Pakistani activist. St. Joan was moved by a shared sense of purpose to write Aisha’s story—the story of a teacher who has orchestrated secret efforts to rescue women condemned to death for so-called honor crimes in Pakistan for the past twenty-five years.

Due to the sensitivity of the issue, St. Joan ultimately chose to fictionalize Aisha’s story. She takes readers on an intimate journey into the lives of four emboldened sisters—the “mother” of the family, Uji, and her sisters Reshma, Faisah, and Meena—as they confront the beauties and betrayals of their culture. The resulting novel is a moving portrayal of the violence women in Pakistan experience, the widespread impact, and the courageous individuals who are fighting to eradicate these life-threatening human rights violations.

Traversing the diversity of Pakistan’s distinct cultures and classes, My Sisters Made of Light successfully weaves past and present, foreign and familiar, and personal and political to create a compelling account of the devastating suffering and extraordinary heroism that exists in ordinary lives. In addition to vividly illustrating the risks and successes of human rights activism in Pakistan, My Sisters Made of Light depicts the heart-wrenching complexities that rest at the core of familial allegiances and alienation.

Together with Uji, readers encounter woman after woman, injustice after injustice: Bilqis, burned to death by her uncle; Taslima, shot and killed by an assassin hired by her family; Chanda, a girl child whose nose was sliced off by her father. What seems like a never-ending compilation of injustices reads just as it should: overwhelming and deeply unnerving. Each incident is one woman’s story and one part of a larger narrative—that of the insidious and ubiquitous legacies of violence that extend far beyond boundaries of culture and country.

At the book signing, St. Joan emphasized that, although written for the women of Pakistan, My Sisters Made of Light is ultimately intended for a Western audience. Careful not to reinforce all-too-common stereotypes of victimized Muslim women, the book’s strength is the universal: what it means to be a mother, a daughter, and a sister. The tears I shed at several points while reading the book speak to its success.

To this day, Aisha is struggling to ensure women’s human rights are respected in Pakistan. Her most recent undertaking is a safe shelter for women and children escaping abuse. Aisha has the land for a shelter and the contractors are even lined up to build it; she just needs the cash to pay for it. St. Joan is dedicating half of the proceeds from the sale of My Sisters Made of Light to help Aisha. Although the book ends, the struggle for women’s human rights does not.

Written by: Alicia Simoni, January 26th 2011

Untold: A History of the Wives of Prophet Muhammad

mandy — Thu, 25 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Tamam Kahn

Monkfish Book Publishing

Although the wives of the Prophet are held up as examples for Muslim women to follow, little is told about the human beings behind the women on pedestals. We all get told the same stuff—how Khadija supported her husband, Aisha’s work as a jurist and teacher—but the discourse focuses on their actions, not their persons.

Tamam Kahn’s Untold aims to tell the human stories of the Prophet’s wives—and succeeds. In the preface of the book, Kahn touches on her intentions: upon meeting strong Muslim women in Morocco, she wanted to tell the stories of strong women, including the back story. Indeed, what makes for a strong woman isn’t just her praiseworthy behavior, but also her imperfections, her humanity.

The format of the book is not like traditional biographies; it mixes original poetry and prose interlaced with history, a style which makes for an easier read than a straight-up biographical narrative. Unlike other works on the subject of the Prophet’s wives, the way Kahn tells the story, at the crossroads between history and fantasy, social science and fiction, Untold can appeal to more than “just Muslims.” It is a wonderfully uplifting, spiritual read.

Untold invites us to contemplate the context of the Prophet’s marriages without falling into the trap of apologist discourse. When discussing the Prophet’s marriage to Zaynab bint Jahsh, Kahn discusses the politics surrounding her divorce from Zayd and subsequent marriage with Muhammad, outlines possible motives, and concludes that “what might have happened between Zaynab and Muhammad is forbidden love, the onset of impulsive feeling, deep connection and pain.”

Aisha, far from the platitudes of your Dar-ul-Big-Beard textbook, is described as a “both naive and wise,” and a “formidable foe” due to her “vigilance” and her “uneasiness at sharing her husband.” Khadija’s story is also reframed: instead of “just” being the woman who dropped everything to support Muhammad, she is painted as the cornerstone of his work. "…She is part of all that is vivid in that landscape of dusty earth…the sustaining date fruit…She is the underground river beneath desert palm trees and gardens.” The stories of the Prophet’s wives aren’t the only ones in Untold. Sections are dedicated to the humanity and strength of his daughters, as well.

Untold’s framing of the stories of the Prophet’s wives cast them in a new light. Instead of being untouchable examples for humankind, they become women we mere Muslims can relate to and emulate in all their humanity. The place of women in Islam is often talked about, but the stories of Muslim women themselves, less so. Untold fills a void in popular culture and helps to re-frame the role of Muslim women in narratives about them.

Cross-posted at Muslimah Media Watch

Written by: Nicole @ MMW, November 25th 2010

Velvet Jihad: Muslim Women’s Quiet Resistance to Islamic Fundamentalism

admin — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Faegheh Shirazi

University of Florida Press

Central to Islamic scripturalist assertion, or "Islamic fundamentalism" as it is often referred to, is the notion of the ideal Muslim woman, whose status, roles and functions are defined by rules and norms deriving from a narrow, restrictive and patriarchal reading of the Islamic scripturalist tradition. The ‘ideal’ Muslim woman in Islamic ‘fundamentalist’ discourse is defined as being submissive to male authority, while being modest and virtuous in a patriarchally-defined sense. She is to be carefully controlled and monitored, at all times, by patriarchal authority. The spread of Islamic ‘fundamentalism’ throughout Muslim communities has had seriously negative consequences for Muslim women’s rights and status. Not surprisingly, groups of Muslim women across the world have begun mobilizing against Islamic ‘fundamentalism’, some on a secular basis, using secular human rights arguments, others, working within a broadly-defined Islamic tradition, employing Islamic arguments for achieving gender equality and challenging patriarchy and misogyny in the name of Islam.

Velvet Jihad provides a fascinating general picture of the status and conditions of women in Muslim communities around the world faced with the challenge of Islamic scripturalist assertion. Shirazi admits that patriarchy is, of course, not a Muslim-specific phenomenon, but argues that the forms that it takes in Muslim communities and Muslim-majority countries makes it particularly problematic and difficult to oppose in that it is generally sought to be legitimised in the name of religion. Hence, challenging such patriarchy is a particularly arduous task as it is easily branded as a challenge to religion itself. The book catalogues a long list of hurdles and restrictions that millions of Muslim women across the world are subjected to in the name of Islam.

With abysmal levels of education, and being economically heavily dependent on their men folk, it is not surprising that vast numbers Muslim women simply have no choice but to accept their lot. Many, as Shirazi tells us, even accept this as mandated by Islam itself. Yet, Shirazi tells us there is what she colourfully calls a "velvet jihad" astir in across numerous Muslim communities spearheaded by bold Muslim women who are now vocally and stridently challenging all forms of oppression in the name of Islam. She likens it to the "velvet revolution," a peaceful movement of resistance that brought down communist dictatorships in eastern Europe in the late 1980s.

What, then, are the means that assertive Muslim women (and there are many, as Shirazi documents) are today adopting to fight patriarchy and misogyny in the name of Islam? They fall into two broad categories. Some Muslim women, who may be defined as "Muslim feminists," are seeking to oppose patriarchal laws, rules, and practices using modern human rights arguments, such as secularism, freedom, justice, and democracy, linking up with reformers, both men and women, both within their communities and countries and at the international level, to highlight the oppression of women in the name of Islam. Shirazi describes numerous such Muslim women’s groups across the world which are using this approach, with varying degrees of success. This strategy might not, however, have much resonance with religious-minded Muslims, who could easily be made to be believe that such arguments for women’s rights are not just "un-Islamic," but, rather, represent, as it is often put, an "anti-Islamic, Western conspiracy." Indeed, that precisely is what Islamic conservatives and radicals never tire of arguing.

A more culturally-rooted, and, therefore, for many practising Muslims, perhaps a more acceptable way of shaping demands for gender equality and of critiquing misogyny and patriarchy in the name of Islam, Shirazi points out, is represented by the phenomenon often labeled as "Islamic feminism." Not all the women (and men) who are engaged in articulating an Islamic feminist discourse and politics might, however, identify with that label, given the political and ideological baggage associated with the term feminism. Be that as it may, Islamic feminism, Shirazi shows by drawing on empirical evidence from extensive fieldwork in Africa, Asia, Europe, and America as well as a massive corpus of literature available on the Internet, is today a growing challenge to the authoritarian, deeply-patriarchal versions of Islam zealously upheld both Islamic conservatives and ‘fundamentalists’, who, despite their differences, are almost unanimous on the "women’s question."

Citing the works—both literary as well as practical—of a vast number of Muslim women scholars and activists as they seek to counter patriarchy in the name of Islam, Shirazi concludes that their valiant efforts, derided and fiercely opposed by powerful patriarchal forces, truly herald the arrival of a velvet jihad, one that can play a key role in not just championing Muslim women’s rights but also in fashioning more compassionate and just understandings of Islam while critiquing and standing up to violent, authoritarian, patriarchal mullahs and Islamists who claim to represent Islamic authenticity. That, in short, is what this inspiring book is all about.

A longer, more in-depth version of this review can be found at CounterCurrents

Written by: Yoginder Sikand, August 19th 2010

Sex and the City 2

admin — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Michael Patrick King

New Line Cinema

Allow me to save you $8. Here is the plot of Sex and the City 2: Four privileged white women take a break from relentlessly moaning about their privileged lives to go on an Orientalist fantasy excursion to Abu Dhabi, where they are each assigned a brown servant to wait on them as they maraud through the country, dressed like assholes, exoticizing people, mocking culture, flouting religious custom, and on occasion, “saving” the natives with their American liberation and largess.

SATC was always only about a certain type of woman, despite attempts to make Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte into everywoman. But the friendships between the protagonists felt universal. And as cartoonish as the individual characters could be, I saw pieces of them in the women around me, if not in myself.

Then I got older. So have the characters in SATC, but the franchise’s male creators aren’t quite sure what to do with women over forty. And so they have taken four flawed but generally likable women and made them repugnant.

Charlotte’s chirpy childishness—always a little icky—seems gross coming from a twice-married woman with two children. Carrie’s self-centered flakiness and drama-whoring is exhausting. Samantha and Miranda are unrecognizable—Sam having gone from an independent woman in charge of her sexuality to a desperate caricature fighting to hold on to her youth (Note: Chris Noth, who plays Mr. Big, is two years older than Kim Cattrall, who plays Samantha. Interesting that Samantha is portrayed as fading, while Big still gets to be…well…Mr. Big) while Miranda quits her job because the new partner at the firm is a sexist jerk. No fight. She simply gives up, which seems completely out of character.

SATC was never as feminist as it was made out to be, but now it seems as un-empowering and pandering as a those pink “girl” computers by Dell. And when the fearsome foursome arrive in the Middle East, privilege, racism, and ignorance meet in an unholy trifecta. Here is what we learn:

All you need to know about Arab countries, you have already learned in Aladdin. If you have a Jewish married name, do not use it on a trip to Abu Dhabi. In an Arab country, be sure to wear expensive clothing reminiscent of the aforementioned cartoon. (Two words: gold harem pants.) Arab men are either frightening crazy-eyed religious fundamentalists or hot menservants. (By the way, it is not at all creepy to accept the services of said hot, brown menservants, and if one such manservant is gay... jackpot! Two new accessories for the price of one! Refer to him as Paula Abdul.)

No woman ever follows the tenets of Islam by choice; all women who wear abaya or niqab are oppressed and secretly want to be white, wealthy, American women who wear revealing couture. Arab women who are not oppressed may be bellydancers in Western-style nightclubs. It is feminist to travel to Muslim countries and expose yourself, simulate fellatio on a hookah, grab a man’s penis in a restaurant, and possibly have sex on a public beach. If you are trying to communicate in an Arab country and cannot find the right words, saying “lalalalalala” will get your point across.

Now, I am sure there are those who will say that I am thinking too deeply about a movie that is meant to be a bit of fluff. For you, I will share that SATC 2’s problems are not all about the portrayal of women, privilege, race or religion. Before any of those things pricked my nerves, I was already sighing at the films stilted dialogue, awkward group dynamic, hackneyed situations, and corny jokes that beg for a sitcom laugh track. And then there was the spectacle of seeing Liza Minelli performing “Single Ladies.” Yes, Liza with a “z” sings Beyonce with a “B.”

Excerpted from What Tami Said

Written by: Tamara Winfrey Harris, June 4th 2010

Aquila

admin — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by Jelte ten Holt

For those familiar with women’s “lifestyle” magazines, the call to be “sexy” in some way or another is not new. We women need to have “sexy” everything: attitude, legs, skin, armpits, you name it. So pervasive is this message that I’m surprised that no one has spontaneously combusted from sexual arousal at the sight of a women’s magazine devotee. And then we have the new Aquila magazine, whose key buzzwords are modesty and fabulousness.

As the “world’s first English fashion and lifestyle magazine for cosmopolitan Muslim women in Asia” that is based in Singapore, Aquila serves up the standard menu of any glossy: tips on make-up, shopping, book and film reviews, and some lightweight advice on career-building.

Aimed at readers from Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore, modesty and fabulousness are far from alien concepts: Muslim women of all ages, hijabis in particular, in Southeast Asia are intensely responsive to new faith-based sartorial trends, perhaps more so than women who do not cover their hair.

That said, Islamic consumerism, as cynical as it sounds, is a fairly new phenomenon in which women in the region form an active role. Aquila is an obvious byproduct of the purchasing power of Muslim women in Southeast Asia, but whether or not it aims to be representative of its target audience is quite another matter. So let us explore this issue by breaking it down to three parts, based on how well it’s doing for its intended readers thus far:

The good: The one thing I can generously say about Aquila is that there seems to be an intention that it offers something for everybody: from articles on face creams to an as yet developed page on “science,” which I hope will be a more informative take on scientific breakthroughs, instead of the science of eye creams and hair serum.

The bad: The beating heart of any self-respecting popular publication is the opinion piece. Often brief and pseudo-philosophical, the op-ed is, for me, what makes fashion magazines human and less banal. But that was what I thought before I came across the first opinion piece on Aquila. Entitled “Leap of Faith,” it reveals the thoughts of a Muslim man whose moral dilemma about his daughter dating a non-Muslim seems to completely eclipse his social drinking habits, at his favorite drinking hole no less! The piece ended on a cryptic note that suggested a sense hypocrisy that plagues the urban, middle-class and the selectively liberal Muslim communities in Southeast Asia, but lacked any insight or depth in what is a serious issue that very much concerns the intended reader.

The could-be-better: Though brand-spanking-new with the impressive accolade of being a kind of landmark magazine for Southeast Asian Muslim women, Aquila looks more like a half-built project with little pizazz. The graphics leave plenty to be desired, but then that wouldn’t be such an issue if it had more substantial content. I get the feeling that Aquila isn’t really targeted at parents, as it lists “kids” as a “lifestyle” issue that sits at the bottom of the drop down list. But I shouldn’t really be asking for the moon here, as most fashion and beauty magazines rarely figure parenthood as a particularly “trendy” subject.

In sum, Aquila is far from divinely inspired. It is a bland derivative of many beaten dead horses called women’s fashion magazines, except with less exposed flesh. It reminds me why I’ve stopped reading such things for good. I’m also not entirely convinced that it is trying hard to be representative of the young, upwardly mobile Muslim women who are taking Singapore, Indonesia, and Malaysia by storm. If the magazine’s not so modest vision of being “the world’s most trusted authority on the intelligence of affluent Muslims” is anything to go by, I would suggest Asian Muslim women to read elsewhere for fabulous inspiration.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, June 2nd 2010

Paradise Beneath Her Feet: How Women Are Transforming the Middle East

admin — Tue, 11 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Isobel Coleman

Random House

At first I hesitated to write this review. I am a non-Muslim, Western woman writing a review of a book written by a (presumably) non-Muslim, Western woman about Muslim women in the Middle East. As I read the book, however, I became much more comfortable with the idea. Isobel Coleman’s book, Paradise Beneath Her Feet, is the result of nearly ten years of research and personal interviews with women from Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq. The book reads more like a report of women’s activities in these countries with only the occasional judgment from the author (“Linking feminism with the ‘heresy’ of the West is good politics, and helps turn patriarchy into patriotism.”) instead of one woman’s opinion on an incredibly complex and historical struggle of which she is not technically a part. (Most of the judgments, save for the previous quote, are of other Westerners who offer ignorant assessments of Muslim/Islamic feminism.)

Each country merits its own chapter, which I believe will help delineate the great differences in women’s rights struggles from place to place. Treading lightly on the tricky ground of reporting Middle Eastern policy to Westerners, Coleman quotes often from direct, one-on-one interviews she held with each subject. This removes opportunities for judgment from the author and instead allows the reader a rare, unbiased glimpse into parts of the Middle East. Within each country’s chapter, Coleman also interviews those from both rural and urban settings, highlighting the great difference in mindset between women, men, and religious leaders in different locations. The research is truly meticulous, and any reader interested in this subject matter would do well to read this book not only for the scope of knowledge, but also for the depth.

One fantastic example of grassroots change Coleman highlights is the National Solidarity Program (NSP) in Afghanistan. An Afghani alum of the World Bank, Ashraf Ghani, spearheaded this initiative to give agency for change to local governments. Localities must elect members of a community development council, which will then receive money from NSP to improve conditions for its residents. The catch? Women must be involved in decision making and benefit from some of the money.

This was not a completely objective report, however. Coleman states in the beginning that the greatest struggle she, and anyone else knowledgeable on the subject matter, saw within this movement of women’s rights in the Middle East was the role religion should or should not play, whether or not the intention behind change matters if the end results means equality for women. Coleman definitively concludes that religion must play a role in the battle for women’s rights in order for the change to be organic and sustainable, especially in rural areas where the majority of the female population in most of these countries lives. A few pages into the book’s introduction, she states (some may argue wrongfully so) that "[s]ecular feminism-both in the Middle East and in the West-has always been the province of urban elites and intellectuals, and that has long been its greatest weakness."

Considering the subject matter, Paradise Beneath Her Feet is an incredibly enjoyable read, which I hope will encourage more people to consider perusing this seemingly dense account. I read it on a red-eye flight to California after three hours of sleep and couldn’t put it down.

Cross-posted with Gender Across Borders

Written by: Colleen Hodgetts, May 10th 2010

Visibly Muslim: Fashion, Politics, Faith

admin — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 05:01:00 +0000

By Emma Tarlo

Berg Publishers

In her new book, entitled Visibly Muslim: Fashion, Politics, Faith, Emma Tarlo captures the diversity in the way that Islam is practiced against the backdrop of multicultural Britain. Refreshingly, the book did not aim to answer whether or not covering was a part of Islam, and neither did it represent the views of Muslim women as a monolithic body.

In her book, Tarlo shows a snapshot of the way in which the veil has manifested itself within the Muslim population of Britain. In focusing on the way that different Muslim women struggle to find common ground between various identities, and the reactions of those around them, Tarlo looks at the veil as a part of the changing dynamics of members of a newer community, rather than an exposé that aims to penetrate the “secret world of Muslim women.”

Within the book, Tarlo moves from discussing high-profile Muslim women, to fashion, the hijab as a part of politics, and the fluid relationship between culture and religion. She does not gloss over the difficulties in finding a bridge between identities. When I saw the words “fashion” and “veil” together, I was worried that I would be confronted with a piece that would merely wax poetic about the intricate embroidery of hijab and the wonderful colors and trends that are starting to rival the Western fashion industry. Tarlo does depict changing fashions for Muslim women, but rather as a part of personal journeys. Furthermore, she analyzes the discourse surrounding the emerging market for “modest fashion.”

The most hard-hitting theme of the book was that of integration. In writing about some of the challenges faced by Muslim women within British communities, I could definitely relate. While Tarlo introduced a great deal of personal narratives from a wide range of women, she also brought into play some of the debate surrounding the hijab within the Muslim community itself. Finding a sense of identity and purpose is a concept which most people–not just Muslims–can relate to.

What was refreshing was that she did not glorify or vilify groups that were more “modern” than others, but simply left the reader to try to understand the realities of grasping for a sense of identity. In showing this theme of integration as a part of juggling different identities, rather than a poisonous and foreign part of society, it forced me to really reflect on how difficult it is for anyone to try to fit in on any level. Rather than trying to promote an “acceptable” level of integration, Tarlo merely provides a picture of the realities of the Muslim community in Britain. This is significant because she does not depict it as a threat, but rather as important debate that shows that the face of Islam is changing and growing, as with many immigrant communities.

What I felt was monumentally missing from Tarlo’s work was the voice of Muslim women who have either been forced to veil or took it off. While she did a great job in showing the diversity of religious views and coming to the veil, I think that in analyzing the world of hijab, it is important to understand why women may reject it entirely. Also, I felt that she could have analyzed the role of socioeconomic status a bit more within the book. While the role of fashion is very significant in trying to understand the identities of Muslim women, I felt that fashion may have a different place and even the hijab itself may play a different role for someone that may not be able to afford the diversity in dress.

Despite being left with these questions, overall I was impressed with the book’s fluid style, beautiful pictures, and honest stories. Furthermore, I enjoyed Tarlo’s dedication to trying to capture not only a snapshot of the Muslim community within Britain, but also in trying to introduce the difficulties within the Islamic community itself. She does not glorify the hijab or Islam, but rather highlights the realities faced by Muslim women.

Cross-posted on Muslimah Media Watch

Written by: Sara Yasin, April 13th 2010

Transforming Faith: The Story of Al-Huda and Islamic Revivalism Among Urban Pakistani Women

admin — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Sadaf Ahmad

Syracuse University Press

In Transforming Faith, Sadaf Ahmad explores the role of Al-Huda, a women’s Islamic religious school, in promoting the spread of a particular kind of Islam, especially among educated middle- and upper-class women in Islamabad, Pakistan.

Ahmad sets the scene by situating her topic in an historical and global context. She provides a broad overview of the various branches of Islam, and she tells the history of Pakistan’s self-conception as an Islamic state. She describes how Pakistani leaders have drawn discursively on certain flavors of Islam in order to consolidate political power, and how those choices laid the foundation for today’s increasingly conservative politico-religious milieu in Pakistan. Ahmad also links these developments to contemporary global pressures, including the hegemonic and military threats to Pakistan that accompany the skyrocketing Islamophobia in the West.

Against this backdrop, Ahmad explores the growing movement of Islamic women’s religious education, which takes place through small dars, classes for neighborhood women about technical and practical dimensions of Islam that are usually run out of one woman’s home, and through the larger, more institutional Al-Huda network. Its official branches and smaller, less formal dars are run by Al-Huda graduates.

Drawing on a body of carefully selected theory, Ahmad sensitively situates her description of the Al-Huda movement (which in many ways promotes a rigid, patriarchal form of Islam) in its political and cultural context. She notes that women are often positioned by the modern state as the “keepers of tradition,” and that women (especially Muslim women under the Western gaze) are perceived to be helpless victims of patriarchal and state pressure. While she does not hesitate to identify Al-Huda’s flavor of Islam as reactionary, she is also careful to tease out the complex reasons that women seek out Al-Huda and find its teachings transformative and personally meaningful.

On the whole, I found the book extremely nuanced and insightful; however, I did feel that one key element was missing. I found it strange that Ahmad does not discuss the communal feminist aspects of Al-Huda and the dars. Large numbers of women are organizing themselves and each other to obtain highly technical religious knowledge without the mediation of male teachers. In fact, Al-Huda promotes Arabic literacy to enable women to develop a direct relationship with the sacred text of the Qu’ran. It seems that this growing expertise might enable women to take more of a role in defining what it means to be a devout Muslim (and a devout Muslim woman in particular), which could have far-reaching implications. The lack of discussion of this question is puzzling.

Ultimately Transforming Faith is an exploration of the role of pedagogy in producing social and cultural change. How do teachers (in whatever sense of the word) identify and recruit a body of students? In a given sociopolitical context, how do teachers discursively situate their chosen body of knowledge (or, as Foucault would say, technologies of the self) against the backdrop of their students’ lives? What makes it possible to convince students to use those technologies of the self to discipline themselves into “ethical/pious subjects” (as Ahmad writes, drawing on Foucault and Mahmood)? In what way does the state co-opt those particular “ethical/pious subjects” for its own ends? In what ways do “ethical/pious subjects” develop a particular vantage point for resistance?

With its complementary combination of critical history, theory, and ethnography, Transforming Faith is an excellent—and thoroughly readable—case study for examining these questions.

Written by: Ri J. Turner, April 6th 2010

Veiled Voices

admin — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 00:34:00 +0000

Directed by Brigid Maher

Typecast Releasing

When people think of Muslim leaders they rarely envision women; however, many women are have made their mark as religious leaders in Islam. Veiled Voices presents the lives of three such women, allowing them to tell their own stories filled with struggle, triumph, and irony.

The film centers on Ghina Hammoud from Lebanon, Huda Al-Habash from Syria, and Dr. Su’ad Saleh from Egypt. Each woman is making waves in her country as she carves out milestones in faith and society. These women are teachers who get their messages of Islam and women’s strength across through lectures, television appearances, one-on-one lessons, and living their lives as examples to others.

The film begins with the women telling about their past, how they become religious leaders, and what they believe makes them who they are. Next, we get to see them in action as they talk to students and speak on television. The film concludes by looking at the next generation, the daughters of the women.

The interviews with the women's daughters and husbands were important because it shows how equality within the home is very valuable. All of the women demand the men in their lives support their passion and refuse to settle for anything less. This is evident in Ghina’s standing up to family and societal pressure to divorce an abusive husband. The decision and its outcomes weren't easy, but it is apparent that this was the right decision for her.

The film shows how institutional sexism prevents speedy social evolution. One example in the film is when Sheikh Tantawi, Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, says it would be fine for a woman to be appointed as a mufti, a Muslim scholar trained to interpret Islamic law, so long as she is qualified through education and practice. However, it is revealed that when Dr. Su’as Saleh submitted an application, she only received one vote from an all-male panel. It is wonderful to celebrate these strong women making a difference in the Islamic world, but there is much progress to be made and it is important that the film highlighted the outright sexism these women face.

There wasn’t much discussion in the film about these women's thoughts on oppression and violence done to women in the name of Islam and based on misogynist interpretations of Sharia. Many people see this as a human rights abuse, and I would have liked to hear what these women think about these interpretations and the outcries to stop these violent acts. The personal stories of these Muslim women are inspiring, and their determination to be positive role models is clear. Veiled Voices is a good start to a conversation by and about women in Islam to change misconceptions held about the role of women in the religion.

Written by: Andrea Hance, April 3rd 2010

Muslim Women Reformers: Inspiring Voices Against Oppression

admin — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Ida Lichter

Prometheus Books

Ida Lichter’s Muslim Women Reformers ambitiously highlights the work of Muslim women around the globe involving an array of interrelated issues, including lack of gender equity in education and the workplace, domestic violence, human trafficking, biased family law practices, and rape with impunity. Many of these problems stem from the socioeconomic inequality experienced globally by women of all backgrounds, and problems that transcend class and religious boundaries. In other instances, misogynist traditions have persisted because local and national authorities, in a gross affront to the majority of Muslims, pass abuses off as Islamic practices.

The book is organized by country, with the largest number of women representing Afghanistan, Iran, and Saudi Arabia, localities prominent in current U.S. political discourse. However, it is worth mentioning that the nations with the largest number of Muslims are actually Indonesia, India, and Pakistan. The reformers’ biographies are preceded by a very brief background section describing important historic events in the region. In terms of methodology, Lichter, a psychiatrist by training, does not give many specifics about her selection process or research methods.

The biographies are brief but moving; many of these women are literally risking their lives in order to work for change. Lichter also included biographies of a half dozen men, offering a hopeful sense that allies can help to transform a view of masculinity that allows the demeaning of women. The biographies are presented as summary reports without a lot of analysis; for someone unfamiliar with the issues at hand, this brevity can be misleading at times.

An encouraging aspect is the inclusion of transnational efforts to eradicate the practice of honor killings. This practice is not a teaching of Islam, but an example of the very worst patriarchal violence. Eliminating this practice requires cultural change backed by political will, and this work represents an area where the Qur’an and the Hadith (sayings of the prophet Muhammad) could eventually bring positive change. Those who justify honor killings may not give up “tradition” for a Western interpretation of human rights. However, reform could happen by relying on the early history of Islam, when Muhammad laid down harsh tribal customs in favor of practices that protected women in that historic context. In this light, the custom clearly is un-Islamic.

One omission felt problematic. The sections on Canada, France, and the U.S. lacked background pages. Creating this difference in the presentation of material seems only to aggravate existing dichotomies between North America and Europe and the rest of the world’s Muslims. Furthermore, the issues facing Muslims in these nations are complex and well worth an introduction. By neglecting to include background on France, the author assumes readers are familiar with the history of France and its former colonies, as well as the anti-Arab racism that plagues the country. (These issues were highlighted this summer, when France was again in the news for its laws against wearing hijab in public.)

The broad scope of Muslim Women Reformers is a weakness. By including women from so many localities, the author had to sacrifice depth of discussion, giving the book the dry feel of an introductory text. The stronger sections of the book are those with the most voices represented, and if I had been editor, I would have suggested Lichter develop that strength and focus the book on those nations.

Written by: Lisa Rand, November 24th 2009

The Madwoman of Bethlehem

admin — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 09:03:00 +0000

By Rosine Nimeh-Mailloux

Second Story Press

Before I started to read The Madwoman of Bethlehem, a story about a woman’s struggle against her patriarchal culture, I wondered whether it would be depressing. It wasn’t. From the beginning, when Rosine Nimeh-Mailloux sets up the present, where Amal is incarcerated in an asylum for women, the writing captivated me.

Yes, the main character, Amal, is born into tough Palestinian life as a female, subjected to her mean grandmother and later, drunken husband, but I never once feel sorry for her. She gives off the energy of a feisty spirit and does not give up. It doesn’t matter how terrible the situation is; we all have the choice to fight or give up.

As Amal’s history is slowly revealed, the author also provides background of the other characters, so that the reader gains understanding of the complex context they exist in. It isn’t just Amal who is expected to obey her husband, but all women, according to Allah. By treating Amal as a servant, she will learn proper behavior—or so her family believes.

Amal refuses to accept the ancient view that women belong to men to do with as they please, she argues that her family betrays her by trading her off to get her sister a nice deal. Her view falls on deaf ears, but she does find an ally to turn to during her journey to acceptance.

So many girls and women in many cultures from around the world have been betrayed by their families under the guise of the old “it’s for your own good” philosophy. This novel is inspiring despite this typical letdown. I have spent years resenting my own family’s strict patriarchal ways, but after reading Nimeh-Mailloux’s novel, I know that I have to accept that it is simply their belief system, not mine.

Amal the character may be fictional, but she is based on the lives of women in the author’s family. She is also the voice of oppressed women in today’s world. She is me and you when we learn to stand up to abuse against women and children.

Whether you’re looking for a bit of inspiration or simply a good page-turner, you’ll find it in The Madwoman of Bethlehem. I didn’t want to put the book down. It is an emotional trip, from tears to laughter and back again.

Written by: Nicolette Westfall, November 20th 2009

Questioning the Veil: Open Letters to Muslim Women

admin — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 08:53:00 +0000

By Marnia Lazreg

Princeton University Press

We are not [wo] men for whom it is a question of either-or. For us, the problem is not to make a utopian and sterile attempt to repeat the past, but go beyond it. _ — Aime Cesaire, _Discourse on Colonialism

These are the words that begin the autobiographical journey Questioning the Veil, where Marnia Lazreg, an Algerian-American professor of sociology at the City University of New York, touches on one of the most sensitive strings of Islam, the hijab.

Is veiling mandatory for all Muslim women or is it a cultural, political, or a social practice? Lazreg presents her research in the form of a collection of letters, where each letter analyzes interviews with several Muslim women combined with Lazreg’s personal experiences growing up in a Muslim family. From modesty and sexual harassment to cultural identity, Lazreg distills the very many explanations used in adorning the veil to deconstruct its religious substantiation.

Lazreg further analyzes modesty and its association with the veiling practice. She poses questions: if modesty is a prime explanation given for wearing the veil, would a woman who does not wear a veil, but dresses conservatively be considered immodest? Similarly, what if a woman wears the veil, but is immodest in her mannerisms. As more and more prepubescent girls are being made to wear the veil based on the notion of modesty, Lazreg points out some of the mind-boggling questions that had disturbed her back in the days when she was coerced to adorn the veil upon reaching puberty.

As a child, Lazreg often questioned the partial adoption of the veil amongst the global Muslim women. As she grew older and sexual harassment was revealed to be another factor leading to the hijab, she often questioned the men who continued to harass women wrapped up in hijabs.

From the ‘reveiling’ trend in the West to the imposition of veiling laws in Islamic countries, Lazreg reveals how coercion more often than choice or faith ultimately results in veiling. Yet, using the veil to strike against anti-Muslim prejudice in the West or rejuvenate the Muslim civilization is not a means to women’s liberation. Ultimately, Lazreg’s research depicts how the practice of veiling is constructed out of reasons external to what a Muslim woman really wants to do. Until states mandate veiling by law, as in the Islamic Republic of Iran, or prohibit veiling by law, as in France, Muslim women will never realize the meaning of autonomy and choice. Their human rights will remain marginalized.

Wearing the veil is not the triumph of Islam over its detractors. At the present historical conjuncture, it degrades Islam to the level of a creed and impoverishes its humanistic import. This is time for women to free themselves of it and by the same token free men, too.

Cross-posted with Gender Across Borders

Written by: Maria Khan, October 17th 2009

Inside The Koran

admin — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 09:51:00 +0000

Directed by Anthony Thomas

First Run Features

Inside the Koran is an excellent insight into Islam through the interpretations of a vast category of people from ayatollahs, clerics, and scholars to farmers, activists, housewives, and modern Muslim women. In a day and age when wars have become the universal circus at play on the bandwagon of religion, a deeper knowledge of the Muslim faith is more relevant than ever before.

From the practice of veiling and the debate on the status of women to the permissibility of jihad, Inside the Koran provides a deeper overview on these subjects by aligning the differing views together into one message: Islam speaks for peace and forgiveness and grants an equal status to women and men alike. "And if you punish, let your punishment be proportionate to the wrong that has been done to you; but if you show patience, that is indeed the best course” (Quran 16:126).

A beautiful scene from the film depicts a Muslim woman’s desire to wear the hijab despite her mother’s refusal to accept the veil as a commandment of the religion. This example of conflicting opinions highlights the importance of tolerance and respect, as is repeatedly quoted in the Koran: "There shall be no compulsion in religion: the right way is now distinct from the wrong way” (Quran 2:256).

The film also highlights another highly significant element of Islam: it is a religion devoid of priests and pastors. Hence, clerics and fundamentalists who continue to preach their own version of Islam are in no way doing justice to the religion. All are equal in God’s way, be it a man or a woman, a farmer or a cleric. “Lo! Those who believe (in that which is revealed to you, Muhammad), and those who are Jews and Christians and Sabaeans; whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day and does right, surely their reward is with their Lord, and there will come no fear upon them neither will they grieve” (Quran 2:62).

Director Antony Thomas investigates how Islam’s teachings in the Koran are very tactfully being employed by nations and powerful leaders alike to further their own political, cultural, and social norms. He explores the branches within the religion—including the Wahabi, Sunni and Shia Islam, as well as Sufism—and very simply merges the similarities and differences within these divisions through the voices of the people themselves. From an ordinary Egyptian woman to several notable scholars, Inside the Koran unveils the beliefs of ordinary Muslims who firmly believe in co-existence and tolerance of all.

Cross-posted with Gender Across Borders

Written by: Maria Khan, September 19th 2009

The Media Relations Department of Hizbollah Wishes You a Happy Birthday: Unexpected Encounters in the Changing Middle East

admin — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 07:59:00 +0000

By Neil MacFarquhar

PublicAffairs

The brash leather-clad sex columnist who hosts her own television show, The Biography of Love, is:

a) a Parisian whose show airs in France b) an American whose show airs in the U.S. c) a Kuwaiti whose show is broadcast throughout the Middle East

The surprising answer is C. But sex educator Fawzia Dorai is only one of the unexpected and colorful agents of Middle Eastern change profiled in The Media Relations Department of Hizbollah Wishes You A Happy Birthday. A Middle East correspondent for the New York Times, MacFarquhar grew up in Libya, the son of an American oil company employee. With both an insider’s and an outsider’s perspective, MacFarquehar has crafted a rare work. Traveling from Iran to Morocco and points in between, he interviews activists, celebrities, renegades and politicians about the region’s potential for change. The answers are as astonishing as finding the words “Hizbollah” and “Happy Birthday” in the same sentence.

Westerners tend to view the Middle East monolithically, as a vast expanse of violence and extremism. But, as MacFarquhar illustrates, the region consists of competing philosophies and contradictions. For every cleric who believes that politics should serve Islam, there is another who would twist Islam to serve politics. For every activist who would cement society into strict adherence to Islamic law, there is another who believes that Islamic ideals of justice and dignity are more consistent with an open society. The United States’ missteps, MacFarquhar believes, result from failing to recognize the nuanced difference between Western-style democracy and the ways in which Islam’s humanistic values could be used to advance tolerance and pluralism.

Don’t just take MacFarquhar’s word for it. The people he profiles make these points in their own riveting ways. Fawzia Dorai cites ancient Islamic texts on sexuality in support of her frank talks to the public. A Lebanese television chef rockets to stardom by blending American and Middle Eastern cuisine. A Bahraini journalist refuses to bow to censors who hate her bold calls for reform. The book is full of such innovators, stunning in their courage: poets, professors, singers, farmers.

The odds are daunting, as a discussion of fatwas makes clear. Fatwas are clerical rulings and range from pronouncements about jihad (clerics disagree whether the concept condones violence) to decisions banning dogs (which prompt black market dog sales). The clergy is as diverse as the population it serves. Some are fundamentalist, others more liberal. Some are better trained. Some have political agendas.

To add to the complexity, fatwas are not always binding. A layman who doesn’t like a fatwa can look for one that’s more favorable. Sometimes this is a good thing. One woman’s imam ruled that she could unveil at work, but only if she suckled her male colleague, making him her surrogate child. (The ensuing outrage resulted in the fatwa’s reversal.) The proliferation of competing decrees hampers reform by preventing clear definitions of what an Islamic society should look like.

Women activists figure prominently. To MacFarquhar, their status is not simply about gender politics, but about how it reflects on society as a whole. A government using religion as an instrument of oppression affects women in kind. A more pluralistic regime, such as Lebanon’s, offers all citizens more freedom. Bahrain, a mixed bag of tolerance and fundamentalism, allows women to drive, but only if fully veiled. As long as tools of change such as freedom of speech and assembly are discouraged, egalitarianism remains elusive.

MacFarquhar seamlessly blends his knowledge of Middle Eastern history, religion, politics, and culture in The Media Relations Department of Hizbollah Wishes You A Happy Birthday. The experience feels like spending time with a very smart and connected buddy who has pulled you aside to share secrets, insights and anecdotes that you won’t hear anywhere else.

Written by: T. Tamara Weinstein, August 31st 2009