The Ties That Bind: Friendship Vs. Marriage

Originally written for SISTERS magazine.

One small island. Six young women. And a friendship that would last forever... Or so we thought.

Having met each other through Masjid events, and suddenly “clicking” together during the community’s first summer camp, the six of us Muslim teens developed a bond that seemed unbreakable. Although we ranged in age, came from diverse backgrounds, and had completely different personalities, we loved each other passionately. As we struggled through high school, personal issues and reconnecting to the Deen, we stood by and supported each other with love, laughter, and the constant reminder that our friendship was for the Sake of Allah. We were confident that we’d only grow closer, that nothing would break us apart.

And then we got married.

Like all young women, a significant portion of our discussions revolved around marriage – who, what, where, and how! We spent hours poring over articles, listening to lectures, and creating checklists for ourselves and our future spouses. We dreamed of wedding dresses and giggled nervously about wedding nights. Throughout it all, though, we promised that no matter where we went in the world, wherever life would take us, we’d always stay together.

Reality, however, turned out to be a bit more different than we imagined.

Over the course of a year, three of us got married, one moved overseas and had a baby, and the others found themselves overwhelmed with the demands of a new husband, old family, and university. No longer did we meet each other several times a week or spend time volunteering at Masjid events; even planned gatherings at each other’s homes often fell through. Physical distance inevitably led to emotional distance and miscommunication resulting in hurt feelings and a sense of loss.

This case of “MIA After Marriage” isn’t unique – in fact, it’s incredibly common. Many sisters report that once a friend or relative gets married, they seem to disappear for months on end. It can take up to a year (or more, if children soon follow) for a newlywed sister to get back in touch with her friends... and by that time, things might have changed so much that it’s impossible for the same closeness to return. The unmarried sisters might feel that their married friend is now living a completely different life and that they have nothing in common anymore; the newlywed sister wonders why her friends don’t understand that she’s just busier now and can’t make it to events and gatherings all the time. Slowly but surely, tight bonds of friendship loosen and sometimes even slip away.

While understandable, the situation is lamentable as well. Although no one says you should be neglecting your husband for your friends, you shouldn’t ignore your friends either. Sisterhood for the Sake of Allah is a precious thing that should never be lost or let go of, not even in the flush of new marriage. So how do sisters who love their husbands and their friends give time for both? Here are a few tips on how to maintain the valuable relationships of Islamic Sisterhood.

1. Purify your intention. Whether you’re the newlywed or the bachelorette, remember that the reason you’re reaching out to your ‘lost’ friend is for the Sake of Allah... not just to get an extra pair of hands to help out at the next bridal shower.

Mu’adh ibn Jabal (radhiAllahu anhu) reported: “I heard the Messenger of Allah (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) say: ‘Allah Almighty said, “My Love is mandatory for those who love each other for My Sake, and those who sit with each other for My Sake, and those who visit each other for My Sake, and those who give to each other generously for My Sake.” (Malik in al-Muwatta’).

Abu Hurayrah (radhiAllahu anhu) reported that the Messenger of Allah (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) said: “There are seven whom Allah will shade with His Shade on the day where there is no shade but His Shade: (one of them is) two men who love each other for the Sake of Allah, meeting and parting for that reason alone...” (Bukhari and Muslim)

2. Be considerate. Keep in mind that things are a bit different for the married sister. She has a whole new set of responsibilities that do take a while to get used to. Allow that she won’t be able to hang out on most days and times like you used to in the old days. But don’t let that stop you from giving her a call or paying her a visit!

Abu Hurayrah (radhiAllahu anhu) reported that the Messenger of Allah (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) said, “A man visited a brother of his in another town and Allah appointed an angel to wait for him on his way. When he came to him, the angel said, ‘Where are you going?’ He said, ‘I am going to a brother of mine in this town.’ He said, ‘Do you have some property with him that you want to check on?’ He said, ‘No, it is only that I love him for the sake of Allah Almighty.’ He said, ‘I am a messenger of Allah to you to tell you that Allah loves you as you love this man for His Sake.’” (Muslim)

3. Be patient and make 70 excuses for your sister. If you’ve called, left messages on the answering machine, sent a slew of emails, and are now considering hiding in her bushes to make sure she’s still alive, take a deep breath and be patient. Insha’Allah your friend is fine; just give her a bit of space to settle into her new routine before expecting a response. Don’t think that she’s ignoring you or doesn’t notice – even through the haze of new marriage, she knows and appreciates that you care about her, which simply increases her love for you.

4. Remember that all relationships need work to maintain. Newlyweds, take note! Don’t take your friendships for granted, and don’t expect that after a year of you being MIA, that everything will be just as you left it. Make an effort to keep in touch with your sisters in Islam, and try to meet with them whenever possible at the Masjid, if nowhere else. Even if you don’t get to really ‘hang out,’ just attending a beneficial lecture or program can strengthen both your emaan and the bonds of Islamic Sisterhood.

5. Don’t hold a grudge. It can be too easy for emotional distance and the feeling of losing a friend to result in holding a grudge. Again, it’s important to note that the situation has changed and that things won’t be exactly the same as they were before. However, don’t allow that to make you feel badly about your sister in Islam or have hard feelings against her because you think that she’s throwing away your friendship.

The Messenger of Allah (sallallahau ‘alayhi wa sallam) said, “The doors of Paradise are opened on Monday and Thursday, and every servant who does not associate anything with Allah be forgiven, except for the man who bears a grudge against his brother. It will be said, “Wait for these two until they reconcile, wait for these two until they reconcile, wait for these two until they reconcile.” (Muslim)

Thus, in the Sunnah of the Messenger of Allah (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam), we find precious gems of advice on how to keep the love for the Sake of Allah strong and flourishing. Changes in life are inevitable, but just because life changes, doesn’t mean that friendship should! As long as sincerity and true love for the Sake of Allah are kept in mind, insha’Allah your relationships with your sisters in Islam will remain strong, pure, and lasting.

May Allah increase us all in our love for Him; and in our love for our sisters in Islam for His Sake; and make us amongst those who will be shaded on the Day of Judgement, when there will be no shade except the Shade of His Throne.

AnonyMouse (UmmKhadijah) is a young Canadian Muslimah who has found herself unexpectedly taking care of house, husband and baby. Readers might recognize her as the AnonyMouse from MuslimMatters.org, although slightly more grown up.

Book Review: Love In A Headscarf

AlHamdulillaah I've recently gotten back to writing after a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long hiatus (about a year since I left my old haunt at MuslimMatters.org). So far it's only been a handful of articles, written for SISTERS magazine, but I figured I may as well throw them in here for another handful of views :)

...

“Love in a Headscarf: Muslim Woman Seeks The One,” by Shelina Zahra Janmohamed is a light-hearted, real-life take on the typical dilemma faced by young Muslim women in the West – searching for the right Muslim man, the right Muslim way.

The author is a young British Muslim woman, who tells us that “at the age of thirteen, I knew I was destined to marry John Travolta. One day he would arrive on my North London doorstep, fall madly in love with me, and ask me to marry him. Then he would convert to Islam and become a devoted Muslim.” A few years later down the line, however, and John Travolta still hasn’t shown up for the great samosa-serving rishta (potential bridegroom) ritual!

For every girl whose guilty pleasure is chick lit, “Love in a Headscarf” is a guilt-free and completely halaal way to indulge. The book, however, is more than just a fluffy giggle-inducing tale; Shelina skilfully narrates her anecdotes while weaving in brief explanations of the tenets of Islam and components of Muslim cultures in a way that makes the book appealing and approachable to both Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

Shelina chronicles her quest for the One from beginning to end, from her first arranged meeting at the age of 19, to the experimental attempts at “Muslim speed dating,” and finally, even online matchmaking websites. Readers can both sympathize with and chuckle at her descriptions of the various characters she meets during her quest: disdainful Samir who hates books, perfect Jameel who left the choice of his future bride up to his mother (who of course has not approved of anyone yet), Habib who was still emotionally scarred by his parents’ divorce five years ago and terrified of making a commitment that might end the same way, breathlessly attractive yet disinterested Karim...

Considering all the above, yet yearning still for something more – for That Feeling – Shelina struggles to compromise between the well-meaning, earnest advice of Buxom Aunties, Serious Imams, and her own wise parents, and the romantic dreams that every young woman has of finding the One. Commendably, however, she doesn’t allow the marriage hunt to overwhelm her life. Concluding that Allah in His Wisdom has a reason for not delivering Prince Charming into her lap, she goes about the business of Life.

Worshipping Allah, studying, travelling, navigating the tangled paths of cultural identity, and, of course, dreaming of the One... Sheilina shares stories of what it’s like to be a young Muslim woman in the West, dealing with the aftermath of 9/11 and struggling against stereotypes from both within and without the Muslim community. Good Girls don’t climb mountains, she’s told when she sets out to scale Mount Kilimanjaro; but at the same time, her hijaab seems to turn off a lot of potential suitors. What’s up with that? She questions traditional conditions, believing in the values but not necessarily the ways in which a girl is supposed to maintain her reputation. After all, what’s wrong with a girl getting a sports car?

Shelina’s quest for halaal love ends up the way such things always do: determined by the Qadr (Destiny) of Allah, both Prince and Princess appear in the right place at the right time, destined to meet. With the blessing of faith and family, Shelina Zahra Janmohamed marries her Prince Charming... and so begins her Happily Ever After.

- A- AnonyMouse (UmmKhadijah) is a young Muslimah who has been writing Islamic articles for the last six years. Formerly a co-founder, staff member, and writer for MuslimMatters.org, she now writes for SISTERS magazine.

2011: A Revolutionary Year (or: Memories of Egypt)

First Tunisia, now Egypt. In the span of a mere month, the Arab world has been turned upside-down. Even as Egypt has descended into chaos (more than usual, I mean - heh, lame joke, I know. Sorry.), Yemen and Jordan are trying to use the events as a spur to their own civil revolutions. Many speculate that other countries in similar situations, such as Algeria and Syria, may well be next.

For myself, I have no deep thoughts or clear analyses of what's going on; I am, like the rest of you, a mere spectator. The only thing I have to offer are my memories of Egypt, which I left four months ago.
To be honest, my year-and-a-half long (almost) time in Egypt was not particularly great; mind you, it wasn't Egypt's fault so much as it was my own. I was miserably homesick and snarky, ungrateful, and unappreciative with it. I was unimpressed by the weather, the country, the people... it all irritated me and made me long for beautiful British Columbia, Canada.

Yet I do have some special once-in-a-lifetime memories of Egypt, that I wish I had recorded more fully when they had happened and thus appreciate all the more today. Now I must rely on my faulty memory to try and recapture those unique experiences.

...

I sailed on the Nile in a felucca at night, trying to control my rebellious stomach (I wasn't seasick; just suffering the usual abdominal instability that comes of leaving a sanitary country for an unsanitary one) enough to enjoy the sights and noise available at midnight in Cairo.

I visited the balad (rural town) of Qaha, and an 'izbah (village) five minutes away from it.
I've witnessed first-hand the shocking poverty that so many Egyptians come from, and continue to live in.
I met the oldest-living woman of the village and drank fresh, warm, and surprisingly sweet cow's milk (at least, I think it was cow's milk :/) from a tall glass of dubious hygiene.
I walked through a corn field and broke off fresh corn on the cob, which was then roasted over a fire made from the corn husks.
I ate rabbit, beef liver, and pigeon!
I watched my husband slaughter a sheep for 'Eid al-Adha on the roof of his second-cousin's home in the balad and had blood running around my lovely new shoes and 'abaayah (but I made sure to watch the whole thing and participated in packaging the meat itself)... and how they cut off the sheep's testicles and sent it downstairs to be cooked and eaten. (Needless to say, I abstained from that one.)
To my bemusement, the second-cousin's young daughters took an immediate liking to me and would natter on constantly while I sat helplessly ignorant and nodded politely and pretended to understand one word in ten.

I went on book-shopping sprees at the Dar us-Salaam bookstore in Madinat Nasr.
I dragged my husband the length of 'Abbas al-'Aqqad to go on a more traditional type of shopping spree :D
I made my husband get up every morning after Fajr to walk to, and around, the big park in Makram 'Obeid during the last two months of my pregnancy. I huffed, I puffed, I waddled, I got kicked around by the baby inside, but I persevered :)
I oohed and aahed over the really cool architecture of the Roxy shopping area, but was unable to get good pictures :(

I spent two Ramadhaans in Egypt, and prayed every single night in a large masjid over 100 years old (Masjid Qutuz) in Heliopolis, Masr Jadeedah. My husband was one of the imaams for taraweeh :)
(And they had a really cool marble fountain that was, once upon a time, used for making wudhu!)
I made friends whom I couldn't talk to, who loved my baby even though she'd only ever bawl hysterically upon seeing them.

I spent four days in Alexandria with my husband, his best friend, and his best friend's wife (and their baby). The majority of that time was spent in a dodgy broken-down apartment rented for an inordinate amount of money, wherein neither the bathroom nor the AC worked and the friends' baby would cry constantly or sleep, necessitating our confinement (apparently it was unthinkable that hubby and I could go out by ourselves).
We went on a paddle boat... with the baby in a sleeping basket that was completely unsecured (as in, neither parent actually held onto the baby or the basket... they just plonked the baby in the middle of the seat and seemed perfectly at ease. Even when the boat was being rocked madly by the baby's father!)
I ate beef liver from a stall that looked grubbier than a five-year-old who's had a mud bath and then jumped into a sandbox. It was shockingly delicious. And then did something to my appetite because I was consumed with hunger so powerful that I'd be eating every five minutes and STILL STARVING! This lasted for the duration of our trip in Alexandria.
I sat at the water's edge at night with my husband, trying (and failing) to say/ do anything romantic. Heh.

When in the car, we would be assailed with the Qur'an recitation of Mishary al-Afasy blaring from one side while our eardrums were in danger of being incapacitated by the Egyptian hip hop screaming from the other side.

I blinked in absolute disbelief as I witnessed bearded men reading aloud from pocket mus_hafs behind the lingerie counters (and Arab lingerie is possibly the raciest, tackiest, weirdest type of lingerie ever. I had never seen anything the like before. It made me long for the good taste of the XXX store display next to the gas station at home.).

I was routinely frustrated by the insistent hospitality of Egyptians as time and time again, we would be invited for tea (or even just pop by to pick something up) and forced to stay 'till 1am, when all I really wanted to do was go home and not have anything else shoved down my throat.

I grew to tolerate having my cheeks, arms, and ribs pinched and being told that I need to gain weight so that my husband will think I'm beautiful.

I discovered just how bad it is for a woman to have any kind of body hair. I also discovered how painful it is to have said body hair removed. And how many salons exist in such states of near-filth that it makes me wonder if there are any regulations for hygiene whatsoever in Egypt.

My one and only trip to the pyramids was overshadowed by family drama (my husband's maternal family), which was literally like an episode of a soap opera. In fact, the soap opera that Sittu (my husband's grandmother) settled down to watch later that day was totally tame compared to incident that took place earlier. Money, love, broken hearts, tears, screaming, ex-wives, estranged granddaughters (and foul, falafel, and koshary) were all elements of the real-life drama that took place in front of my eyes.

I went to an Egyptian wedding and emerged deaf (and wishing that I was blind; I saw stuff exposed that really shouldn't have been).

I met intelligent, charming, sweet girls of 13 who wore niqaab and completely destroyed every stereotype that one might have of young girls who wear niqaab. There are a lot of journalists whom I wish could meet these girls.

I have sat in apartments furnished with great taste (and lots of money); and climbed the steep, narrow, uneven clay stairs of a rickety three-story home that has no electricity or modern plumbing, which reeks of urine and decay. A family full of gaunt-faced children and haunted adults were waiting for us to deliver their monthly share of food staples.

The day we discovered the city of Rehab, my husband and I wandered around joyously, unable to believe that something close to civilization existed in Egypt. It touched our hearts to see parking lots and rules of the road being respected.

...

There is a great deal more which I have seen and experienced in Egypt, and I probably don't even remember it all. I have no one to blame but myself, but I do have Allah to thank for giving me the chance to live it.

May Allah protect the innocent Egyptians and bring some sort of sanity and stability back to their lives and to their country, ameen.

Nostalgia

I don't know why, but the last couple months, I've been spending a lot of time reflecting on the past... my old self, both sillier and smarter; somewhat more clear-headed and a great deal more zealous; so much more driven and chafing at my restraints.

I remember how I channeled that first bout of teenage angst and homesickness into the beginnings of an active, passionate blog... dreaming of solving the world's problems, utterly convinced that I could change the world (once I could make sense of it, that is).

I remember how I met my first readers, fellow bloggers whose every update I faithfully read and commented on. I felt a thrilling kinship with these other bloggers, ecstatic that they were taking little old me seriously enough to keep up with and converse with. I will especially never forget iMuslim and Faraz, who showed up in the very early days and put up with my bouts of teenage silliness :)

I spent hours (that I should've spent on homework, probably) surfing the Islamosphere and acquainting myself with what was going on in the Muslim world, online and on the ground, in the East and in the West. To be honest, I think I learned more in those hours of blogging than I did from school!

Of course, the crowning moment came with the inception of MuslimMatters.org - the founders of which never expected for it to reach the levels it did. My involvement with MM basically took all the time and energy that I spent on personal blogging, and alHamdulillaah it really was an amazing experience. I got to brush online shoulders with big shot sheikhs like Sheikh Yasir Qadhi and Sheikh Yaser Birjas; I had the opportunity to vastly improve my writing skills; and I learned a lot about dealing with others in a working environment. It even had some very surprising personal benefits - I never would have expected it to be the catalyst for some much-needed father-daughter bonding (of a sort).

Although certain issues resulted in me leaving MM, it will always hold a special place in my heart for being my first semi-professional project, the place where I grew up... if not in real life, at least in my head :P

AlHamdulillaah, after my approximately year-and-a-half-long hiatus from writing (due to marriage, homesickness, sort-of-depression, pregnancy, childbirth, moving to a new country), I'm now back in business - alHamdulillaah! My fingers are whirring, my brain is spinning, and I feel ready to begin a new, more productive chapter in my life.
I'm beginning a course on how to teach ESL, I've joined the SISTERS magazine team as a freelance writer, and, of course, I have my now 6-month-old Mouseling to keep me busy in the meantime (i.e. all the time).

AlHamdulillaah :)

P.S. Welcome to the blog world, little brother ;)
P.P.S. I really hope I didn't get you in trouble :S

Anonymous AnonyMouse

It's been a long time since I've blogged, whether in this long-neglected first cyber home of mine, or at my previous (pseudo)professional position at MuslimMatters.org... I've missed it, writing for an audience, although I wonder if it's vain of me to feel my writing validated only if witnessed by others. My husband asked me once, if I needed an audience to write, and then reminded me that the pious predecessors in Islamic history preferred to remain completely unknown if possible. The right answer, I suppose, is that no, one should not need an audience in order to write; my own honest answer, meek and somewhat ashamed, is that yes, I DO need an audience for my writing. It makes me feel like I matter. Is that presumptuous of me? Arrogant? Insincere? Insecure? Hmmmmmm.

...

What happens to a Muslim in the West if s/he leaves the West? That's the question I find myself pondering as I twiddle my thumbs in my domestic abode in Cairo, Egypt, feeling completely at odds with myself. My entire life has been structured around being a Muslim in Western society; creating my identity and fighting for it, striving to serve a specific community with all its religious, social, cultural, political issues. Now that I'm in a completely different environment, playing a completely different role - domestic, not activist - I am at a loss as to what my identity is now.

Is that a sign that Muslims in the West are way too obsessed with identity issues? That we're so busy struggling to define ourselves that once the issues we fight about constantly are removed, we suddenly feel a gaping emptiness at the lack of conflict? Hmmmmmmmmm, again.

Perhaps it points to the need for us to stop thinking about ourselves in terms of WHERE we are, and to start thinking more about the very basic WHO we are. Maybe we need to stop thinking of ourselves as Muslims in the West, and simply as... Muslims. Strip away all our over-inflated psycho-socio-political conflicts to reveal the primal, basic spiritual vulnerability we should really be dealing with.
...

Nikaah-ed at 17, Waleemah-ed at 18, and now pregnant at 19, these last few years have been quite eventful, to say the least. I learned a lot about the world... and during these last 10 months, even more about Life As It Really Is (and not just Life As It Appeared In My Overactive Teenage Mind).

I've learned that while I used to mock those who idealized marriage, spouses, and life in general, I was the bigger fool by being both naive and idealistic about all those things and worse, about myself - and the whole time thinking I was realistic, world-wise, and disillusioned by fairytales!

I constructed a persona for myself, building upon the foundation of "Sheikh's daughter" and expanding outwards. In some ways I took advantage of that foundation, in other ways I rebelled against it, but I admit that I almost always used it as my base. It's been both an amazing advantage as well as, I realize now, a hindrance to my own personal development.

While I'll always be my father's daughter, I am no longer known as my father's daughter. And that makes all the difference - to me, at least. It shouldn't be that way, I know. I'm not supposed to depend upon my parentage for any advantages, or as the basis of my identity, or as the motivation for my life choices. But I'm so used to thinking of myself in those ways, and of assuming that others see myself that way too, that it was (and still is) a shock to my system to find myself in a place and amongst people where my family, myself, and my 'history' are completely unknown. Nobody knows and nobody cares about who I used to be; now I am on my own and have to construct a new identity entirely.

In the beginning, for the first many months of marriage and the move overseas, I was absolutely devastated by the loss of my old identity. Not being involved in community work as I've always known it, not being able to observe and interfere, made me feel invisible and as though I didn't matter. I still feel that way, in many ways, although technically I know that thinking that way is ridiculous and that I simply have to forge a new path in my life - that I don't have to give up my dreams and ambitions, just adjust them to my current situation and take advantage of what's available.

One of the harshest lessons I've learned so far is just how quickly one's faults can be revealed. Even if I believed in the character I imagined myself as, which other people saw and admired, which I took pride in... well, I learned how much I'd overestimated myself and my so-called maturity, and shocked myself at how quickly I regressed into childishness. I know far less than I thought I did; I have much less wisdom than I presumed; I am still, it appears, very much an adolescent in my thinking (the irony of having written an article denouncing adolescence does not escape me).

Alas, though I wake every day vowing to get a grip on myself and work on putting together a new facet of identity (ah, that identity obsession again - I do think it's inescapable), on getting those life lessons through my skull and applying them to my daily life, I continue to slip backwards and allow homesickness, sullen resentment, and sheer laziness to prevent me from achieving my potential. Even spousal encouragement, punctuated with meaningful insinuations that I won't be able to achieve my dreams if I don't actually GET STARTED, haven't been able to prod me into action yet.

For now, I remain an anonymous AnonyMouse, complacently nibbling on cheese and avoiding acknowledging the fact that one of these days, I'm going to have to deal with the fact that the scenery outside my mousehole is different and that I need to stop being such a lazy rodent.

Please forgive the ramblings of someone who wrote this merely as a therapeutic exercise and in the hopes of curing a dreadful case of insomnia and writer's block :)

Garbled Mental Odds & Ends

Reading through a few books on psychology - my latest amateur interest - various facts popped out at me and I've had more than a few "aha!" moments. What often happens to me is that I'll try to link what I'm learning with what I already know, seeing where it applies to real life situations.

Right now one of the issues I'm observing and concerned with is that of Muslim youth (more so than usual, I should say, and particularly with younger teens). My mum's handling a few cases of anxious parents with rebellious kids in tow, mostly girls who've started trying to wear makeup on the sly, hanging out with the less-savoury female characters at school, that kinda thing. In frustration and annoyance, I've become an advocate of locking the kids up at home and banning them from most, if not all, forms of media and communication.

In all seriousness, however, the ultimate issue is that of integration and assimilation of Muslims into Western culture. The topic has been discussed to death, along with that of the challenges of maintaining an Islamic identity in an unIslamic environment - but despite the seemingly obvious answer(s) to the solution (establishing a firmly Islamic household that educates its members about the Deen and how to interact appropriately with nonMuslim society), the same problems persist. Muslim kids continue to get screwed up in this society and fall away from the Deen, no matter how much their parents insist "But it's good for them, it'll make them stronger and open their minds up to other horizons and they'll be able to think critically about other ideologies while maintaining their Islam!"

Yah, sure, 'cuz your daughter who wants to dress like a stripper and your son whose greatest ambition is to be a rapper are such epitomes of strong Islamic identities and intellect.

I've just given up on the strength and intelligence of our youth. They have none. The majority of them are as ignorant, vision-less, and mindless as the stupid white kids they hang out with (yes, I know I'm being rude, but I don't have the energy to be politically correct and state things precisely).

Of course it's the parents' fault, most of it. But when the parents are blind to what their kids are up to, and place way too much trust in them, then what do you do?!

I'm someone who grew up in a bubble - literally. I don't remember the last nonMuslim friend, or indeed acquaintance, that I've had since oh, about grade four. My life has always revolved around my family and my Islamic centre/ Masjid/ Madrasah. Yet contrary to what many people protest - that such an environment leads to a stunt in intellectual growth, problems with communication and socialization, etc., I don't think that's happened. Sure, I might be clueless about a lot of things, but those are usually the things that don't matter anyway.

Anyway, while I've had my own rough times, I think I turned out semi-decent overall. So could the real solution be insulation over integration? Isolation (to a certain degree) instead of assimilation?

It seems a bit drastic, maybe, but I'm fed up with everyone insisting that integration is the key to a successful Muslim presence in the West. We lose more kids than we keep. There are more 'Muslim' teens who don't pray, don't fast, don't wear hijaab/ Islamically appropriate clothing, listen to music, have girlfriends/ boyfriends, etc. than there are those who start caring about Islam and attend Al-Maghrib or Al-Kauthar or whatever.

So yes. Lock up your children. Isolate them, insulate them, protect them from the society that we're stuck in. We do need to create our own culture - as savvy, intellectual, and appealing as non-Muslim culture, but superior in that it's ultimately based upon Islam. I'm not calling for a return to 7th century Arabian life, but something that's just... modern but Islamic. 21st century based upon ancient, divine principles. Utopia.

And eventually let this bubble culture of ours change until it is radically different in many ways from Western societal norms. Let's raise kids who mentally and emotionally mature a lot faster than adolescents do now - and then we can marry them off at an early age without worrying about how immature they are. My psychology book says that puberty indicates the beginning of sexual maturation; girls subconciously start looking for a mate by the age of 13 and reach their peak before their 20s. Guys take a bit longer emotionally but are sexually aware just as quickly. Those ancient cultures were right when they married their kids off the moment they reached puberty - it sure saved them a lot of trouble. If a guy is already attached to a girl and has more than a vague understanding about the concept of responsibility, and if a girl knows that she's already got a guy to impress, then there won't be as much of a problem with guys trying to get their hands on the first girl to walk by them and girls won't be obsessing about how to attract a guy's attention. Not that it'll eradicate all the problems, I understand, but it seems a hell of a lot better than what we have now.

Basically, we need to develop a culture and a society that is insular without being utterly isolated; that integrates both natural, evolutionary biological urges with religious recommendations.

The Amish know what they're doing.

Them Mouse Traps Just Don't Work

I'm wondering whether to come back to this blog or not. Most of my writing is now confined to 'professional' works, basically articles for MuslimMatters.org, and my personal journals. My online activities have been minimized drastically from my early days of blogging (it's been three years, subhanAllah), and mostly I'm just busy with finishing off school and helping my father with the Madrasah website (http://www.almadinahacademy.com/).

The trouble is, I still have bits and pieces of half-formed thoughts floating around my head, niggling at the corner of my brain, and they won't leave me alone. Mostly just phrases and ideas that pop into my mind. Nonetheless, they insist on being shared and being commented on. Hence the consideration of returning to this blog.

If anyone is reading this, what say you? Should I resurrect this lonely corner of the blogosphere, littered as it is with mouldy cheese and dust bunnies, or ought I to let things lie dead and buried?

The avocado was having a nightmare
of wild magic in the blue apples, electric snails
Moonbeam knife sacrificed children
with spider blood under a silver sun
A feather was a scalpel
dancing jagged scars on the orange’s skin.
And the girl screamed as mango honey slashed her mouth
while the leopard-boy loved her.

- Me

A Different Kind of Housewife

Chopping up peppers, nodding in agreement with the sheikh on her laptop, and debating her mother on men’s degree of responsibility over women vs. women’s wisdom and instincts as the subject of her research paper… she is truly a very different kind of housewife.

Questions

Why is it that sometimes it’s easier to admit your mistakes to God, to ask His Forgiveness, and to swallow your pride in front of Him; than it is with other people? Why are we sometimes more reluctant/ afraid to say or do something in front of other people than we are in front of Allah?

Is it a sign of lack of emaan, shedding light on our pathetic state of affairs; or is it just “one of those things”?

Inna Lillaahi wa Inna Ilayhi Raaji'oon

My granduncle passed away early this morning, of the stomach cancer he was diagnosed with a month or two ago.
May Allah forgive him, grant him an easy time in the grave, and elevate him to the status of shaheed (martyr), ameen. And may Allah grant my family patience and strength of emaan (faith) to pull through this difficult time, ameen.

Abu Hurairah (ra) narrated that Allah’s Apostle (SAW) said:
“While a man was going on a way, he saw a thorny branch and removed it from the way and Allah became pleased by his action and forgave him for that.”
Then the Prophet (sal-allahu-alleihi-wasallam) said, “Five are martyrs:
1. One who dies of plague,
2. One who dies of an abdominal disease,
3. One who dies of drowning,
4. One who is buried alive (and) dies
5. And One who is killed in Allah’s cause.”

(Sahih Bukhari, Volume 1, Book 11, Hadith no. 624.)
...

I still can't believe it, though.
Even though I saw him suffering the effects of the cancer, the strongest memories I'll have of him are the numerous happy ones of my childhood: going to his house to pick cherries from the massive cherry tree in the garden, our many summer family barbecues, his loving teasing and jokes, his special smell as I'd snuggle up with him...
SubhanAllah. Laa hawla wa laa quwwata illaa billaah.

-Mouse

Changes

Things are happening. Big things. It's in the air, strong as the smell of cheese in the breeze. Lives will change, the course of the future altered forever.

Keep your eyes peeled for more news, insha'Allah... :)

In Need of Your Ad'iyah

My granduncle has just been diagnosed with stomach cancer... and is, according to the doctors, beyond all help.
He's been sick for a while now - he didn't feel all that well when he came back from Hajj last year, and then he went to Malaysia and it got a bit worse - but he put it down to a really bad virus of some sort. When he finally started throwing up and was rushed to the hospital, they found out what it was.
Al-Hamdulillaah that we have so much of our family in the same city... my uncle and aunt are also flying in today to see my GoraDada.
Please make du'a that his last days are of ease and comfort, and that insha'Allah he dies as a shaheed.

"He who is killed fighting for Allah's cause is a martyr, he who dies in the cause of Allah is a martyr, he who dies in an epidemic is a martyr, he who dies from a stomach disease is a martyr, and he who dies of drowning is [also] a martyr." (Reported by Muslim.)

SubhanAllah, only recently two of my dad's friends have also been diagnosed with cancer... things are getting pretty tough.
May Allah grant us all strength of emaan and the patience to pull through such tough situatins successfuly, ameen.

*Groans*

Of all people, Maclean's Magazine decides to interview Tarek Fatah??!!!!!

The man is crazy... amongst his track record for saying the darndest things, he's claimed that Little Mosque on the Prairie is totally unrepresentative of Muslims because according to him, most Muslims don't even pray.
He's paranoid, too - he's constantly going on and on about how The Islamists are trying to take over Canada and impose Shari'ah or something.
And, ummmmm, what does the whole teddy-bear-named-Muhammad thing have to do with A love affair of the Left and Islamists that is very dangerous for the rest of the world"?

Is Maclean's trying to be funny?

(Late) 'Eid Mubarak!

TaqabbalAllah minna wa minkum... I hope you all had a good 'Eid, insha'Allah!
Mine was all right, al-Hamdulillaah - went for 'Eid salaah (we had 'Eid on Friday), and had the usual family gathering and 'Eid loot.

Yesterday, however, was not so grand... we organized the first "real" 'Eid party in my city, and we vastly underestimated the amount of people who came - not entirely our fault, though, because people walked in even though they hadn't bought tickets in advance! I'm thinking of writing a post titled "A Day in the Life of... an 'Eid Party Volunteer - Or, 101 Reasons Why I Hate People." (Although I'll probably end up getting lazy and not writing it at all!)

Anyway, let me know how your 'Eid went! :)

Love,
Mouse

RAMADHAAN MUBARAK, EVERYBODY!!!!!

May Allah make this month one of increased 'ebaadah, emaan, and taqwa for us all; and accept all our deeds; and make us amongst those who emerge from Ramadhaan with our sins forgiven, ameeeeeeeen!!!!!!

Much love,
Mouse

A Day In the Life of a Young Muslimah

Today I helped wash and shroud my first dead body.

May Allah have mercy on her, and on us; forgive her, and forgive us; and may He save us from the trials and tribulations of the grave, and from Hell. May He make our graves spacious for us, and let us smell the fragrance of Paradise. May He let us die with the shahaadah on our lips and emaan in our hearts.

Ameen, thumma ameen, yaa Rabb al-'Aalameen!

Writing Exercise

It's a bit rough and isn't exactly a great piece, but it was fun to write! :P

-------------

“As-salaamu ‘alaikum… I’m hoooooooooome!” she called out in a sing-song voice, as she swung open the door, motorcycle helmet under her arm. Her mother, Aaminah, setting the table in the dining room, replied the greeting with a disapproving look at her daughter’s getup – what she liked to call her “Muslim biker chick costume”. The “costume” consisted of a long-sleeved ankle-length cape-like leather jacket, buttoned down to the waist until it flared open to alternately hide and reveal a similarly flaring skirt, split at the sides, under which she wore matching leather pants. “Huntress hijab-ified” the Muslimah biker chick pronounced, referring to her DC-comics heroine.

Ignoring her mother’s expression, Sameera relieved her of a stack of plates and completed the chore.
“Where were you?” her mother asked, returning from the kitchen with a pot of steaming stew. “What were you doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” Sameera answered casually. “You know, starting up brawls at the pub and toilet-papering the Masjid.”

“Sameera!” her mother cried out, horrified, and her daughter laughed and kissed Aaminah’s cheek in apology. “I’m kidding, Mom! You know we’d never do that… nah, today we just hung out at the park and gave Da’wah.”

Somewhat mollified, her mother’s expression softened but then became suspicious. “Da’wah?”
Sameera smiled sweetly. “Blowing bubbles, playing with kittens, and beating the daylights out of some drunk loser who tried to rape a teenage girl…”

Aaminah’s eyes widened in horror and she grabbed her daughter’s hands. “Please tell me you didn’t do what you just said you did!” she begged, her face creased with worry.

“All right, so the kitten ran away from us,” Sameera said flippantly, but repented when at the look of anguish on her mother’s face. “I promise, Mama, we’re all okay! And we couldn’t just let that, that animal hurt the girl… Mama, this is our job. This is why we’re a gang of Muslimah biker chicks – the cops can’t be everywhere, and when they do show up it’s too late. This way, we do our civic and Islamic duty of enjoining good and forbidding evil.” She gave her mother’s hands a reassuring squeeze and let go, turning away to leave – but before she could escape, Aaminah caught hold of her sleeve, still anxious.

“What if you get hurt one day?” she implored her daughter. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it. There are dangerous people out there, and Allah only knows what they could to you – you forget that you’re a girl, just like the one you rescued today.”

“Not just like the girl we rescued,” Sameera corrected. “The other girl was helpless – I’m not. I have skills… martial arts, self defence, and I have the girls to watch my back. Above and beyond all those, we have Allah. We place our trust in Him, and whatever happens, good or bad, is from Him. Qadaa wa-l Qadr,” she said, referring to the Islamic belief of predestiny.

“Trust in Allah but tie your camel,” Aaminah quoted back. “You know I’m not happy with what you do… won’t you stop? Think of how I feel every time you go out – you could get hurt, you could have an accident, you might get into a fight with someone you can’t beat. There are too many horrible possibilities!”

“Mama, I think you’re exaggerating a little,” Sameera said firmly. “The girls and I don’t go around beating thugs up every day and night – however much we’d like to pretend we are, we aren’t comic book superheroes, and we know it. Most of the time we’re not engaged in anything violent or dangerous, unless you count trying to teach a roomful of hyper kids to be violent and dangerous.” She paused, then continued in a softer voice. “I’ll stop only if you forbid me. I won’t disobey you.”

Aaminah said nothing, just looked at her daughter – at the determined expression on her face, at the somewhat alarming outfit that made her look like a troublemaker but beneath which she knew was a pure and devoted heart. She bit her lip, then sighed.

“I won’t forbid you,” she said finally. “I suppose I know why you do what you do, and even if I don’t like it I know you’re doing something good with the best of intentions… Now go take off your costume and wash up for dinner.”

Sameera grinned in relief and bounded down the stairs to obey her mother’s command. Aaminah stood still, gazing after her daughter, thoughts and emotions roiling inside her head and her heart. Finally, she heaved a sigh, whispered a du’aa for her daughter’s wellbeing, and went back into the kitchen.

I'm Losing It!

I dunno what it is, but I feel like I'm losing my touch for writing quality articles these days... :(
I can't think of any subject I'm really "qualified" to write about, nor have my recent 'works' been much in terms of insight or anything. My last post on MuslimMatters drove the point across to me quite strongly, and I'm tempted to delete it.
It doesn't feel like writer's block; it feels more like I'm just not writing anything worth reading.

Hmmmmmmm, is it possible for someone to lose a talent? It hurts, really - I miss the enormous feeling of excitement, the wheels of my brain going round and round, the itching in my fingertips that would overwhelm me whenever I came across something that inspired me to write something that I knew others actually thought was worth reading.

Maybe it's a sign... should I just stop writing?

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd   Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Social Nerd
Drama Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Anime Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Musician
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

I Couldn't Resist... Too Funny!

You are a 50% Pakistani!!

Almost there. Keep working on it loser.Are you ashamed of yourself or your momma and papa never taught you the desi ways?

how pakistani are you
Take More Quizzes

(Darn it, I lost the marriageability results! :( Just go to the site - GoToQuiz.com - and type in 'desi' in the search box... mind you, it only applies to girls!)

*Bangs Head on Wall*

Subhan'Allah.
I don't like people.

People who let their egos and irresponsibility and personal grudges get in the way of continuing the work of an Islamic centre. Grown adults who act like petty school children; who have willingly volunteered their time but who don't actually do anything - or at least, don't do anything unless they're (verbally) kicked in the butt, and then they go do what they're told with a frustratingly childish sulky attitude.
People who can't take care of expensive equipment bought with painstakingly collected and saved donations...
People who overwhelm the few really awesome people left, who ruin the efforts of this special handful, and totally mess up the good that's being done (or trying to get done).

I feel so sorry for my dad... having to manage not just a Madrasah, an upcoming summer camp, a Muslim youth helpline, counselling, AND an Islamic centre in another city.

May Allah grant him ease, peace of mind, and the strength and patience to keep dealing with stupid people. If I were him, I would've smacked someone upside the head by now.

This is where the control freak in me kicks in: I wish I could implant mindchips into these people's heads and override their stupidity so that it makes things easier for my dad and for the other few guys who are working really hard at the Dar...

Honestly, I feel like crying. For nine years my dad worked his butt off getting the Islamic centre off the ground, helping it grow out of a tiny office on top of a car factor into several larger facilities, from a simple bookstore to a musallah with weekly halaqas and regular programs for men, women, kids and teens... subhan'Allah, he sacrificed a lot of family time (and okay, so we resented it awfully at the time, but now I'm starting to understand why), and our lives were split between home and the Dar - we used to joke that the Dar was our second home, and my dad's first home.
Then the stress got so bad that we had to move, and now stupid people left in charge, who were trusted to keep things going, go and RUIN EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Bangs head on wall*

I'm glad that I have strong memories of 'the glory days' and haven't had to witness the miserable ruins of the place as it is now (unlike my dad, who's had to make several trips back and forth to deal with issues)...

Politics used to fascinate me. Now it sickens me. Politics between people, between fellow Muslims who are forgetting what our Islamic centre was founded on and why it was established in the first place, is what is ruining everything.

People suck.

Conspiracy Theorist Extraodinaire!

White chocolate is not real chocolate. It is part of a conspiracy by the Free Masons/ Zionists/ Big Brother/insert scary names here . If they get you to believe that white chocolate is real chocolate, you will believe anything... and will be officially just another mindless zombie victim.

White chocolate is not real chocolate.
White chocolate is not real chocolate.
White chocolate is not real chocolate.

DON'T EAT WHITE CHOCOLATE!!!!!

I'm gonna hug ya, and keep ya, and call you George!

*Sneeze!*

As-salaamu 'alaikum wa rahmatullaahi wa barakaatu,

*Looks around at the dusty mousehole and pulls out a duster*

I've been thinking of returning to my cozy little mousehole here... I love MuslimMatters (al-Hamdulillaah), but I miss this place... I've decided that I'm gonna use this as my little corner for some creative writing, and lots of personal musings - I'm so busy with school and the Madrasah and writing for MuslimMatters (okay, not soooo busy with MuslimMatters), that I feel I sorta need to take the time to write out my teen angsty stuff here (well, not so much angst as... stuff).

Anyhoo, if anyone's still here, hiding in the shadows, drop me a line and let me know I'm not allll alone... I'll even make hot chocolate for you! :P

-Mouse