Good Muslim Women

Before you talk about the trauma of motherhood, or how your masjid deliberately excludes women, or how you have been preyed upon by marriage bandits or a superstar da'ee...

You must reassure the patriarchy that you are A Good Muslim Woman.

No, of course you're not a feminist. Of course you hphold Muslim male superiority. Of course you don't think that *all* men are bad. Of course they're not to blame.

Before you talk about being a woman, about what you were told womanhood meant, about becoming a woman...

You must reassure the patriarchy that you are A Good Muslim Woman.

No, of course you don't think that men are responsible for the oppression of women. Of course you think that men have it just as bad, if not worse. Of course you know how privileged women are in Islam.

Before you endure the catcalls you endure every time you walk out of the house, before you talk about the time you were raped, before you talk about being sexually assaulted in Hajj or Umrah, before you mention the abuse of women...

You must reassure the patriarchy that you are A Good Muslim Woman.

No, of course you don't deny the obligation of hijab. Of course you dress appropriately. Of course you were with your mahram. Of course you know that men are abused too.

Before you give a talk or write a book or stand up for a cause or walk into the masjid, before you dare to publicly exist -

You must reassure the patriarchy that you are A Good Muslim Woman.

You Are Your Own Strongest Advocate

You are your own strongest advocate.

Women who go to imams and shuyookh seeking khul' or faskh or resolution for any other issue are often turned away or brushed off with non-committal shrugs and not followed up on.
But here's the thing. You can either sit there meekly and say, "Okay," and walk away without your issue resolved or without receiving justice... or you can sit there and say, "No, I know my Islamic rights and I'm not budging until I get them. And I WILL hold you accountable and follow up until it's done."

There are so many imams who don't expect this response, who expect us to just accept whatever excuses are thrown at us, who know just how well Muslim women have been trained to unquestioningly accept the statements of a man of (perceived) religious authority.

They *don't* expect us to pursue our Islamic rights, or to even know what they are. *We* must educate ourselves, do our research, and *not* back down. They won't be happy, but when they know that they can't just wave you away, they'll also feel the pressure to actually take the case seriously.

Note: this obviously doesn't apply to all cases. #NotAllImams and whatnot.
Also, actually do your research and make sure that you do know what you're talking about before you go in there, so that you're not bamboozled by something being passed off as "the strongest opinion" when it's actually just a fringe opinion or summat.

My Khul', My Freedom

Almost three years ago today, I fought for my right to receive a khul’… and received it. It was painful and exhilarating all at once; I was twenty-two years old, I had been married for almost four and a half years, and I had a three-year-old daughter. I had asked for khul’ three times in the span of about a year, and each time I had been denied.

This last time, I stood my ground – and finally received what I knew to be my Shari’ah right.

The ‘iddah (or waiting period before being permitted to re-marry) of khul’ is only one menstrual cycle, unlike that of talaq or widowhood. Whereas a woman who has been given a talaq is obliged to stay within her husband’s home, I– being a woman who had chosen to leave the marriage– left my then-husband’s home as well, and spent that time with my family instead.

The night I received my khul’’, my tears were of relief, excitement, and joy. The next morning, as I sailed on the ferry that would take me back to my grandparents’ home, I buried my face in my best friend’s shoulder and wept for all that had passed.

My ‘iddah lasted all of two weeks, and it was a period of time marked by numerous emotions, a flash flood of exhilaration and anger, sorrow and jubilance, shattering uncertainty about the future, and a sense of renewal for my life. Every sajdah was filled with an overflowing sense of gratefulness that I had been given this opportunity that so many other women are denied; every rak’ah was performed with an aching heart and guilt at what I had chosen to do.

I wish I could say that I used my ‘iddah as a time of thoughtfulness and reflection, of heightened spirituality and increased maturity, but to be honest… to be honest, I was mostly just giddy with excitement. After four and a half years, it was a huge relief to be able to be myself again; to be able to laugh out loud, to wear a pair of shoes I liked, to be able to speak my own opinions without being censured or punished for being ‘a bad wife.’

For those two weeks, though I chafed at being kept indoors by my family, I spent a significant portion of my time simply making lists of all the things I couldn’t wait to do as soon as my ‘iddah was over.

My ‘iddah was a time where I felt like I was able to rediscover myself: remembering the person I really was behind the layers of anxiety and depression and the innumerable restrictions that had been placed on my own personality. I was able to write freely again, as though someone had removed a muzzle from my heart and mind; I could speak with honesty, instead of choosing my words based on what a certain individual wanted to hear; I could finally make choices for myself again, as a grown woman, and not someone whose existence was tied to the demands of someone else.

My identity as a Muslim woman was no longer dependent on being someone’s obedient wife; my future in the Hereafter was not hinged on another human being’s mood swings. I was, for the first time in my life (or so it felt), a grown woman whose spiritual status was a matter solely between herself and her Lord.

It was divorce, not marriage, which brought me closer to Allah and filled me with a strength of sincerity that I had not experienced in a long, long time.

When my ‘iddah ended, the first thing I did was go for a walk, hand in hand with my three-year-old daughter, retracing the neighborhood steps of my childhood and adolescence. It was here that I felt my life had come almost full-circle; here was the place that I had always felt happiest, where I had anticipated my future with eagerness, where I had experienced the early, simple struggles of adolescence and felt myself growing into the type of person I hoped to be. Now, once again, I felt the same joy and excitement, the same growing pains and the sense of discomfort that accompanies true change.

I tipped my head back towards the sun, and smiled.

{So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?} (Qur’an 55:13)

Zainab Bint Younus (the Salafi Feminist) is a Canadian Muslim woman who tries to write thoughtfully about women of Islamic history and positive polygyny when not ranting against the patriarchy. Having sought divorce at the age of 22, she maintains that it was one of the best decisions of her life (tied with her choice to enter into polygyny and live happily ever after with her husband and best friend).

Polygyny: What It Means When African American Muslim Women Share Their Husbands (Book Review)

POLYGYNY IS THE pink elephant in the room for so many Muslims – a topic both titillating and embarrassing, one that comes up in questions from non-Muslims and in debate in Muslim gatherings, a subject that elicits strong emotional reactions from almost everyone.

There are books about coping with polygyny; there are arguments made as to whether it’s even Islamically acceptable in this day and age. Yet, fiqh rulings aside, there is very little discussion on how polygyny exists as a practical reality in the lives of many Muslims in the West.

Debra Majeed, a professor of religious studies at Beloit College, wrote the book “Polygyny: What It Means When African American Muslim Women Share Their Husbands” in order to better understand (and explain) the phenomenon of polygyny from the perspectives of African American Muslim women based on their lived experiences.

In her preface, she describes her motivations for exploring the topic, and the lens through which she has framed her work. She makes it clear that her primary focus is on African American Muslim women. She emphasizes that she is operating from within the paradigm of Muslim womanism, which she defines as “a ‘philosophical perspective’ that draws attention to the varied conditions of black womanhood as experienced by African American Muslims, and the values of Islam they articulate.”[1]

Majeed’s book is divided into 6 chapters, not including the Introduction and Afterword, both of which are worthy of spending time on reading.

Despite the fact that the book’s main purpose is to be used as a textbook, Majeed’s writing style is refreshingly clear and easy to read, unburdened by the convoluted terminology one generally expects from academia. The context of the book is equally refreshing: an honest, realistic, practical, and most importantly, non-judgmental look and discussion at the many ways polygyny is lived in North America.

Though it is repeated many times that these stories are of African American Muslims, much of what the book discusses is applicable to the vast majority of Muslims in North America who practice polygyny. Sprinkled with anecdotes and quotes from individuals whom Majeed interviewed on the topic, Polygyny does not skew in favor of polygyny or against it – it is merely  frank, and provides a very balanced view at polygyny across the spectrum of both positive and negative experiences.

Chapter 1 is titled ‘The Road to Understanding Polygyny,’ and lays out a clear and well-organized introduction to key ideas and concepts that Majeed proceeds to cover. She is transparent about how she has gathered all her information and references those whom she has drawn useful contributions. As part of ‘the road to understanding polygyny,’ she introduces to us some of the individuals whom she spoke to – women who have either lived in polygyny in the past, or are living in it currently. There are those who found themselves, unexpectedly, not the first wives they believed themselves to be—due to the fact their husbands went behind their backs, and then there are those who had more positive experiences.

Additionally, she goes to some length to explain why polygynous marriage is considered a viable option by some women in the African American Muslim community. She further explains the importance of womanism in her work, and ties the various threads being introduced into a comprehensive foundation upon which to proceed reading.

Chapter 2, ‘Agency and Authority in Polygyny,’ talks about the agency, power, and authority that Muslim women wield in polygynous marriages, and how those choices are acted upon in different ways. This chapter also includes a section that I thought was particularly intriguing and enjoyable: a ‘dialogical performance as ethnography.’ That is, she took a semi-fictional approach by imagining that she had gathered together her various interviewees and put together their responses on various topics related to polygyny, in order to provide a compare-and-contrast discussion-based platform. Through this medium, she provides readers with the opportunity to better identify and relate to the variety of perspectives of individuals who have lived through polygyny.

Majeed broadly divides polygyny into three types: polygyny of liberation, polygyny of choice, and polygyny of coercion. These three categories roughly describe polygyny as it is experienced by the women within these relationships – the first being an extremely positive experience wherein women find joy and empowerment; the second being that of acceptance but not necessarily enthusiasm or preference; and the third being that in which the women felt pressured – due to various factors – to remain within the polygynous relationship despite their own displeasure with the situation.

From personal experience and observation of others, I strongly agree with Majeed’s categorization of polygynous experiences for Muslim women. I especially appreciated the nuance and thoughtfulness that went into describing these categories and validating them with the lived experiences of women in those situations.

Chapters 3, 4, and 5 “Religious and Experiential Prescriptions”, “Legalities and Emotional Well-Being,” and “Imam Mohammed’s Commentary on Polygyny,” respectively, were a little denser in terms of content. The topics covered mostly revolve around explanations of, and discussions on, polygyny in the Muslim community, and specifically within the Nation of Islam community. There is some detail given to the history of polygyny within the NoI movement and how it affected its leadership, which to some non-NoI Muslims would be considered largely irrelevant – although I personally thought that there were various insights definitely worth considering and applicable to the Muslim community at large.

Of particular note were the observations of steps taken by men that made polygyny easier and more successful—or more difficult and burdensome—for the women involved. It is clear that those men who were respectful and considerate of their first wives’ physical, emotional, and psychological situations and well-being were those men with far more positive polygynous marriages. On the other hand, those who neglected the well-being of both wives, whether spiritual, financial, legal or otherwise, were of those who often ended up going through a divorce with one of them.

It is also interesting to note that in almost every successful example of polygyny, the women involved were aware, educated, and involved in how their husbands chose to marry other wives. Among my own favorite stories, the co-wives had friendships and close relationships of their own that were not dependent upon their shared husband.

Chapter 6, “Mental Health and Living Polygyny” was, to me, the most enlightening chapter by far. One aspect of polygyny that is almost completely neglected by Muslims is that of how polygyny affects the psychology of children raised within this family structure. Again, Majeed brings forth a balanced view of how polygyny can positively affect children, and how it can also be a source of anguish and negativity for them as well.

Describing the positive experience that one child of a polygynous family had underscored the importance of the father’s role: to be present in his children’s lives, to communicate with them about changes in their lives due to the introduction of another adult to the family, and to model healthy relationships with both his wives.

Unfortunately, such an example of lived polygyny is extremely rare not just amongst African American polygynous Muslims, but polygynous Muslims at large. All too often, men going into polygyny rarely deign to think about how their marital choices will affect their children, especially if it means creating two (or more) separate households and reducing the amount of quality time spent with each child.

In her conclusion, Majeed lists several key notes which she thinks are of utmost importance for polygynous Muslims to be aware of and to practice in order to ensure the safety and security of all parties involved.

Polygyny: What It Means When African American Muslim Women Share Their Husbands is a book that I consider a must-read for all those interested in, or involved in, a polygynous marriage. It provides candid glimpses into real-life examples of polygyny, indirectly making it obvious what the common denominators of positive poly marriages are – and equally obvious how to guarantee the failure of a poly relationship.

By discussing not only the religious aspect of polygyny in Islam, but also by going into detail about legal concerns, financial caretaking of spouses, the relationship between co-wives, and the mental health of women and children in polygyny, Debra Majeed highlighted a wide spectrum of necessary issues that Muslims are faced with when undertaking polygyny.

It is my hope that we see a great deal more literature – as well as speeches and workshops by qualified Imams and other community leaders – provided on these topics. Unfortunately, existing narratives about polygyny in the Muslim community are overwhelmingly negative, unhealthy, and stale, with very little practicality. Majeed’s book is revitalizing , and hopefully the beginning of a more realistic and healthy approach to polygyny amongst Muslims not only in African American communities, but all Muslim communities, both in the East and the West.

————————

[1] “Polygyny: What It Means When African American Muslim Women Share Their Husbands(2015) University Press of Florida, Introduction, page 3

Lollipops, Hijabs, & the 'Ideal Muslimah'

Regarding those who think that the lollipop/hijab analogy isn't a big deal, or that people who object to it simply don't get the point of analogies:

1) We understand what analogies are. We understand their uses. We also understand that there is such thing as a good analogy, and a bad analogy.
(Examples of bad analogies:
http://www.jimcarlton.com/bad_analogies.htm
http://www.cracked.com/quick-fixes/5-morons-who-pulled-offensive-analogies-out-their-ass/)

2) The lollipop analogy is particularly offensive because of what it implies. The image shows a wrapped lollipop - i.e. a woman in hijab, who is ostensibly clean and undamaged - and an unwrapped lollipop that is covered in dirt and surrounded by flies - i.e. a woman not in hijab, who is dirty and attracting filth (men).

Even if one plays along and agrees to the premise that hijab is primarily (or solely) to protect women from men, the analogy is still quite dangerous. Why? Because a hijabed 'lollipop' is considered worthy and desirable, and an unwrapped lollipop is considered - literally - garbage to be discarded.
Thus, the analogy does nothing to say that a woman in hijab will be protected. It implies very heavily that a woman in hijab is desired (everyone would love a wrapped lollipop!) but that a woman who does not wear hijab is NOT desirable and is dirty and is, essentially, worthless and to be despised.

Again - even assuming that one agrees with the sentiment that hijab is about protecting women from men - this is, at the very least, a disturbing way to speak about any human being, let alone one's sister in Islam.

3) Using analogies is great to get a point across - except that we also need to recognize that the way certain analogies are used, and the context they're used in, also contribute to something more.
In the case of the lollipop analogy, it has contributed and exacerbated the attitude that hijab *is* primarily about 'warding off men', and stripping it of all other nuance and reasoning (including what Allah mentioned in the Qur'an, i.e. that it is also a form of identity for the Muslim woman, and obviously, that it is an act of worship).

Just a brief look at the comments section of these memes will show how so many Muslims - men and women alike - truly believe that hijab is the be-all and end-all definition for what a good Muslim woman is, that it is the only yardstick by which a woman's self worth or piety revolves around.

Other analogies such as the flowers and pearls/diamonds are not as offensive as the lollipop one (in that there is no equating un-hijabed women with being garbage), but still contribute to unhealthy ideas about Muslim women, their self-worth, and their role in society is (that they are *all* delicate - or should be if they aren't, and if they aren't, that they are lacking in femininite; that they are to be seen - but only in a certain way - and not heard; that they are not meant to contribute in any other capacity than a domestic one).

The lollipop one, however, remains hands-down the most disgusting and offensive analogy I have seen in terms of how it refers to women.

4) It is very, very easy for men to tell anti-lollipop folks (and I mean lollipop in the metaphorical sense, obviously) that we are exaggerating - because they themselves have never experienced firsthand what it is to be told that your entire self-worth as a human being depends on whether you are covered, how you are covered, and what you are covered with.

As an example -
I wear niqab and in the time that I once had a picture of myself on FB - in black abayah, niqab, half-gloves, a jacket, and sunglasses - I received numerous comments telling me that I wasn't wearing "real" hijab because I was 'attracting too much attention.' Despite the fact that I am a writer who posts almost daily on a wide variety of topics, people felt compelled to comment solely on on this one aspect - my image.

I found it annoying, but I have more to worry about than what people think of my image. Yet it also made me realize how much more other Muslim women go through on a daily basis - how pressured they are, how they are made to feel that their entire worth depends solely upon how they look, instead of a myriad of other factors.

5) It is necessary to know that for many, many years, a significant percentage of Islamic books and lectures about "women in Islam" pushed forward a very shallow, narrow, and restricted view of Muslim women.
The 'ideal Muslimah' was described as being a woman solely dedicated to the domestic sphere; a woman who is quiet, meek, and delicate; that her only desires revolve around her husband and her family.

There is, of course, nothing wrong whatsoever with a woman who does match that description. The problem arises when women who do *not* fit those characteristics are looked down on, viewed as and spoken about as lacking in faith and 'true femininity.' These women are considered to be inferior and less valuable as members of the Ummah, simply because they do not fit a certain definition.
Unfortunately, we forget that even the wives and female Companions of RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) varied from each other in personality and demeanour. Women such as A'ishah and Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anhunna) were forthright and outspoken; others, such as Fatimah bint RasulAllah and Maymunah bint al-Haarith were much more demure and private. Both categories of women, both types of women, were beloved to Allah and recognized as greater than all others simply because their Taqwa was what He cared about most - not that they should have all been cookie cutter replicates of each other.

It is this history and baggage that many Muslim women carry today. We have heard these messages for so long and had them shoved down our throats to the point that many of us have questioned whether we have any worth in the Sight of Allah.

It is not enough to say that "not all men" carry such an unhealthy attitude about Muslim women, because the sad fact is that many of them - a significant proportion of them - do. What's worse is that many of them have only the best intentions and do not actually intend to be hurtful or offensive. It is precisely because of this that we should encourage a stop to the use of lollipop (and other) analogies - to help our brothers in Islam realize that such a reductive attitude does nothing to foster goodwill and harmony between Muslims, but merely exacerbates antagonistic feelings and behaviours.

Rather than spend further time arguing as to whether it is okay or not to use analogies that compare women to objects, we should be channeling our energy on how to view each other - men and women alike - as more than one-dimensional creatures whose value depends solely upon one single behaviour or item of clothing.
Instead, let us take the time to overcome our own inner biases and strive to see each other as human beings with both strengths and flaws, weaknesses and abilities. Let us try to embody the best description of believers as Allah mentioned in the Qur'an:

{The believing men and believing women are allies of one another. They enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong and establish prayer and give zakah and obey Allah and His Messenger. Those - Allah will have mercy upon them. Indeed, Allah is Exalted in Might and Wise.} (Qur'an 9:71)

Women =/= Lollipops

Just in case someone wasn't aware.
*shrugs*

"For me, niqab is a feminist statement."

My piece for AJ+


I’m a writer, a feminist, and an orthodox Muslim (Salafi, to be precise).

I have a fondness for all that is goth, (steam)punk, and Batman. I’m obsessed with leather biker jackets. I’m loud, somewhat annoying, and absent-minded.

And I wear niqab.

To me, niqab is a very feminist statement. By covering my face, by obscuring my physical features from those around me, I am saying: “I alone own my body, and you have no right to me.” My words, my actions, and my mind take precedence over my body, and no one can coerce me otherwise. Wearing niqab does not erase me from society. Rather, it gives me the freedom to engage in it on my own terms, without being bound by others’ demands.

It is the ultimate act of ownership and empowerment.

And I’m fiercely proud of it.

But living in Canada, I get questioned a lot about my choice to wear niqab. My dad grew up in Canada, and my grandparents have lived here for more than 40 years. I’m as Canadian as they come—not despite the fact that I wear niqab, but because of it. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which guarantees me the right to dress the way I please, was taught to me at a young age. It’s ingrained in me. Knowing about it gave me the extra boost of confidence I needed when I chose to wear the niqab seven years ago. I felt secure in the knowledge that no one could ever accuse me of breaking the law, or that I didn’t know what it meant to be Canadian.

“You know you’re in Canada now,” people still say to me in a patronizing tone.

“I know,” I reply coolly. “That’s precisely why I’m wearing what I want to.”

One woman grimaced with distaste at me recently, asking,

“But why do you have to wear all that black?”

“Because I’m goth,” I deadpanned.

No, my entire identity doesn’t rest on the fact that I cover my face and body when I go out. I prefer not to focus on the way I dress, but find myself speaking and writing about it often. I usually end up talking about the legal and social repercussions of niqab, but it’s about a lot more than that for me.

I grew up watching my mother wearing niqab. But my parents didn’t allow me to wear it until I did my own research and considered the meaning and consequences of wearing it. When I put one on, it was with utter conviction that it was something I not only wanted, but needed. It was a reflection and extension of my identity, without being the sum of my existence.

The niqab is more than just a piece of cloth or a political claim. It’s a spiritual statement, an act of worship that I hold between myself and God. It’s not that I consider myself superior to others by wearing it– just the opposite. There are numerous others whose acts of worship may supersede my own. Wearing niqab is one act that I can consistently carry out, and I pray that it brings me at least a little bit closer to God, and to Jannah (paradise).

There are those who ask: “Why, if it’s an act of worship, don’t Muslim men wear it?” And, “Don’t you know that it’s not even a part of Islam?” And there are those who say that I am further sexualizing myself by shrouding.

To them I say: If you really care about my religiosity, research it. But don’t you dare assume I am ignorant about my own faith or that I don’t know what I’m doing or why. As for my sexuality, that’s my own damn business.

The lives of niqabi women do not revolve around our niqabs… and we are not all that mysterious. Some of us are quite open about our activities and even our dress on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. On social media I joke about the difficulties of “matching all my blacks” (the elements of my clothing: abayah, hijab and niqab); the horror of realizing that I wore my niqab backwards (yes, there really is a right way and a wrong way to wear it!); and that very Canadian problem of getting powdered sugar from my Timbits all over myself and my 5-year-old daughter.

Most of my time is spent doing what I love most, reading and writing about women in Islam. I study historical female figures and challenge cultural Muslim ideas about female sexuality and gender roles. I care deeply about the Muslim community and I’m troubled by the many issues we are plagued with. I strive to put my ideas into action by in my local community, including a series of workshops I’ve developed titled #MuslimSexEd.

I can also be found wandering around downtown taking too many pictures and spending too much money on accessories I buy solely because they make my niqabi outfit look awesome.

In contrast to all this, media and pop culture portray a very different image of what a niqabi woman is, or looks like. Stock photos of “Muslim women” and “niqab” yield a plethora of images that are neither realistic nor practical. The one thing these images have in common is they are almost always taken by non-Muslim photographers, or solely of women in Eastern countries.

AP photographer Hassan Ammar is the latest in a series of lazy efforts to capitalize on niqab-wearing Muslim women… without having to actually engage those women. For others, like Khloe Kardashian, “dressing up” in niqab is a way to up the hypersexual ante. The appropriation of niqab for “artistic purposes” is offensive. We’ve had enough. In France we face steep fines for covering our faces in public. Elsewhere in Europe, the UK, and North America, niqabis face verbal and physical abuse from strangers.

We do not all wear the same black uniform or exaggerated eyeliner. We are not oppressed victims, or brainwashed “Islamists.” We do not need others to speak for us or over us, pretending to tell our stories when we have our own voices and our own cameras, and are fully capable of documenting our lives.

And we are doing so.

Gheerah & Qawaamah - Between Misogyny and Ihsaan

'Gheerah' and 'qawaamah' are two terms which elicit a variety of reactions - on one extreme, they're used to browbeat women into complete silence and diminish their own self-worth, and on the other, they are derided as being misogynistic and antithetical to all women with self-respect.

The issue, however, is less that of the actual concepts of gheerah (honourable protectiveness) and qawaamah (committed responsibility based on justice) than how they've been co-opted, misinterpreted, and abused - and, even amongst those who have not used them to abuse, there has been poor communication and explanation of those terms.

While I have discussed each term in detail and in separate articles, I did want to emphasize that what we don't seem to understand is that within an Islamic context, both gheerah and qawaamah are meant to facilitate stronger, happier, and healthier marriages.

When gheerah is displayed by a man for his wife, it shouldn't be done in a controlling, irrational manner that has nothing behind it except a negative type of possessiveness. Men and women both have preferences for their spouses - and instead of viewing it as a competition for control, it should be seen as a sign of love, care, and concern for each other.

Rather than 'laying the smackdown,' if a man cares about his marriage, he should actually communicate with his wife *why* he has certain preferences and requests. Even if she doesn't agree with them, the very act of communication and discussion (assuming that, too, is done healthily) will engender positivity and an appreciation for the concern being displayed.
Men should also keep in mind that just as they make requests of their wives, they ought to respect their wives' requests of them - as Abdullah ibn 'Abbas (radhiAllahu 'anhu) said, "I love to do for my wife as I expect her to do for me."

When qawaamah is correctly implemented as well (and I shall forbear from using analogies such as 'CEO of the household' or going into detail over my own specialized theory about it......... ahem), and when a man has sincere intentions to *not* abuse his power, it is highly unlikely that a woman would become resentful.
To the contrary, a competent qawwaam is the type of man who earns respect from those around him - a man who does not flaunt his authority, but ensures that his wife knows that she is respected in turn and considered to be a meaningful partner in their relationship and their household.

The concepts of gheerah and qawaamah are not something we should be ashamed about, but something we *do* need to be aware about and implement correctly.

I for one understand all too well why and how many women have an averse reaction to the very idea of these words - the Muslim Ummah has far too many brutal examples of the abuse committed in the names of gheerah and qawaamah.

Unfortunately, too many people of knowledge and authority have also remained silent in the face of this abuse and done little to alleviate it, choosing to place greater importance on the authority of irresponsible, oppressive men than on the need to enforce 'adl (justice) in the Ummah.

One cannot throw around words like qawaamah and gheerah without linking them to, and emphasizing, the need for Ihsaan that comes with them. We cannot have lectures about 'the ideal Islamic marriage' and tell women to accept the unconditional authority of men without first addressing the men themselves - ingraining in them the severity of what the position of qawaamah entails, and the brutal consequences in the Aakhirah for abusing it.

The Qur'an speaks about marriage in positive terms - why else would words such as 'mawaddah' and 'rahmah' be used? - and we cannot isolate related terms and concepts from the holistic approach that was embodied in the life of RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam).

Allah wishes only good for us - He wants our relationships with each other to be based on love for Him, and compassion with each other - and only by understanding these types of ideas in such a light will we be able to move forward from shallow, one-dimensional, and frankly dangerous interpretations and towards something which exemplifies the spirit of Islam.

Outspoken: The Power of a Woman's Voice

“Muslim women should be seen, not heard” is a belief that – if not spoken outright – is implicitly understood and reinforced constantly. “A woman’s voice is ‘awrah” is another catchphrase that is floated around commonly, and used to shame Muslim women who take a stand for themselves in any way. “Women who speak are fitnah!”

If anything, one common trait amongst all the wives of RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) - besides being of those who were guaranteed Jannah - was that, in their own way, they were incredibly strong women who were never afraid to stand up for themselves or to speak out.

Juwayriyyah bint al-Haarith was the daughter of an Arab chieftain - making her, in essence, a princess of sorts. When her father's tribe waged war against the Muslims and were defeated, they captured prisoners and spoils of war as was customary at the time. Amongst the prisoners was Juwayriyyah, who was the prisoner of Thaabit ibn Qays.
Despite the fact that Juwayriyyah's husband had just been killed in battle, rendering her a widow, and her own captivity, she was nonetheless both courageous and intelligent. She immediately began to arrange her own ransom, reaching an agreement with Thaabit that she would ransom herself for nine measures of silver.

She also arranged it so that she was given a meeting with RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam). With her head held high, her dignity undiminished by her circumstances, she addressed him with an eloquent and powerful speech.

"O Messenger of Allah! I am Juwayriyyah, the daughter of al-Haarith, the leader of his people. You are not unaware of what has befallen me. I am a captive of Thaabit ibn Qays, and I have bargained with him to ransom myself for nine measures of silver - so help me to free myself!"

In these brief words, Juwayriyyah established herself as a woman of intelligence, dignity, and of faith. Her very first words made it clear that she had accepted Islam - why else would she refer to him (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) as the Messenger of Allah? - and called attention to her situation by emphasizing her former position as the daughter of a leader, and her current position as a prisoner.
She made it known that she was not going to remain helpless and idle and allow herself to remain a prisoner, ensuring that everyone present was aware of the fact that she had taken pro-active measures, but also called upon RasulAllah's sense of honour, compassion, and generosity to assist her.

And indeed, this small speech was all it took to guarantee freedom not only for herself, but for her entire tribe.
RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) was so impressed by her that he immediately told her, "Would you like something better than that?"
Quick witted as ever, Juwayriyyah didn't simply accept, but rather asked, "What is it?"
RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) said, "I will pay your ransom and marry you as well."
Her answer was swift. "Yes, O Messenger of Allah!"

And with that, she was included amongst the ranks of the Mothers of the Believers. Not only that, but due to her acceptance of Islam and her position as the wife of RasulAllah (sallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam), she secured the freedom of her entire tribe… as well as their Islam. The power of her words, of her voice, was clear.

Unfortunately, it’s common today in many Muslim cultures and communities to find that women who speak up, whether in defense of themselves or for a specific cause, are penalized for voicing themselves. Their modesty, their piety, and even their personal lives are often targeted, sometimes with crude insinuations made. It is appalling that these accusations are thrown around at women who are doing little more than following in the footsteps of the heroines of Islam – the wives and daughters of RasulAllah (sallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam), his female Companions, and the great women scholars of the Tabi’een.

In a time when the Muslim Ummah is besieged on numerous fronts – militarily, economically, socially – the example of Juwayriyyah (radhiAllahu 'anha) is one to be told to every Muslim man and woman, reminding us that no matter what situations we find ourselves in, Allah helps those who helps themselves. In Juwayriyyah's case, it was her pro-activeness, her quick mind, and her courage that changed her from not only prisoner to princess, but into a woman of Jannah. By modeling ourselves on Juwayriyyah, we will discover that one of the greatest tools for changing our less-than-ideal circumstances is complete trust in Allah, and never backing down from the numerous obstacles that will inevitably be in our paths.

{Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.} (Qur’an 13:11)

Orthodox Muslims and Feminism

After watching an old video clip of a BBC program panel discussion on faith and feminism (featuring a Muslim woman in niqab as well as women from other faith groups), my primary reaction was one of disappointment.

Not only did the Muslimah representative remain largely silent throughout the discussion, but when she did speak, it was to offer weak platitudes and analogies about 'equality' - frankly, it made me cringe.

The video, however, highlighted to me many trends that I see when it comes to discussions about feminism amongst or involving conservative/orthodox Muslims.

For one thing, those who don't identify as feminists usually have skewed perception of feminism; those who do identify as feminists always fall back on the topics of hijab/niqab, polygamy, and 'equal but different'. There is very little mention of the active and important role of women from the very beginning of Islamic history.

Furthermore, orthodox Muslims discussing feminism often seem oblivious to the very existence of intersectional feminism, let alone the larger discussions and trends taking place within it. In general, conservative Muslims focus heavily on secular feminism rather than intersectional feminism, which is much more relevant to both women of faith as well as colour. The former is largely recognized to be exclusionist and limiting, with its focus being primarily on White, middle-class women of privilege.

Sadly, many conservative Muslims use the excuse of 'evil feminism' to deliberately ignore serious issues within our communities, especially with regards to the abuse and (mis)treatment of women. Discussing male privilege within masaajid, the abuse of authority, and how women are blocked from accessing their Shar'i rights are all written off as 'deviant feminism,' regardless of whether or not the individual identifies as a feminist to begin with!

It becomes ironic when even the most ideal, model Muslimah is condemned as a feminist the moment she starts speaking up for women's rights - or speaking up about anything at all, for that matter.

In short, rather than freaking out about feminism (and arguing about how it's 'kufr'), orthodox Muslims need to fix the major problems in our communities that lead to people seeking out feminism as a solution to begin with.
If we are so concerned with people 'abandoning the Shari'ah' allegedly because of feminism, we should be more concerned with *why* people are doing so - and the answer is very obvious. It is because we, the Muslim Ummah as a whole, are hell bent on avoiding dealing with our dirty laundry; in fact, in many cases we seem to want to *preserve* the injustice and oppression we inflict upon each other.

Bottom line: Stop whining about feminism, and start focusing on the very real problems (including and especially misogyny) that have left our Ummah weak and diseased.

May Allah make us amongst those who strive to fight oppression and stand up for the justice found within His Shari'ah (regardless of whether one calls themselves feminist or not ), ameen.

"Did A Woman Edit the Qur'an?" - Book Review

Ruqayyah Y Khan's article-turned-book "Did A Woman Edit the Qur'an? Hafsah and Her Codex" has garnered some amount of attention as being daring and revolutionary in the field of Muslim feminist Qur'anic studies. Although being aware of the obvious agenda that was likely behind it, I was most certainly intrigued by the focus on Hafsah bint 'Umar (radhiAllahu 'anha) and her role in the preservation of the Qur'an.

Despite the incredible potential that this book could have had, I was sorely disappointed by the almost bizarre way that certain basic facts regarding the Qur'an and the biography of Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha) were glossed over.

To begin with, the title of the book is both obvious and unsubtle with regards to the agenda it is pushing forward; the continued use of the phrase 'edit the Qur'an' makes it clear that the author is approaching the subject from the perspective of one who does not consider the Qur'an to be perfect (which is a common enough belief amongst many progressive groups). Despite expecting this perspective in the first place, I found the thread of intellectual dishonesty that ran through the entire work to be extremely distasteful. While numerous hints are provided about how the suhuf (scrolls/ manuscripts) of Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anaha) differed from the standard mus'haf Uthmaani, there is a deliberate and obvious attempt at implying that her copies different in actual *content* of the Qur'anic ayaat rather than the very obvious and well-known understanding that there were various recitations (qira'aat) of the Qur'an that were known to the early Muslims.

Furthermore, it astounds me that the classically and almost universally known position regarding RasulAllah’s literacy – that he wasn’t – is completely disregarded in the book, as is demonstrated in the following quotation:

“Muḥammad is shown instructing Hafsạ in the Qur’ān as well as writing Qur’ānic verses for her.

Abu l-Aswad related [that] ‘Urwa b. al-Zūbayr said, “People differed over the recitation of ‘Those who disbelieve from among the People of Book . . . ’[Q 98: 1], so ‘Umar b. al-Khatṭ ạ̄ b came to Hafsạ , [bringing] with [him a scrap of ] leather (adīm). He said: When the Messenger of God comes to you, ask him to teach you ‘Those who disbelieve from among the People of the Book’ . . . and tell him to write it for you on this [scrap of ] leather. She did [this], and he [i.e., Muḥammad] wrote it for her. This reading became public and widespread [’āmma]. (Ibn Wahb 2003: 62)"

As a non-expert on seerah, I found it mind-boggling that one of the most basic facts regarding the Messenger of Allah (sallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) and indeed, one of the most amazing aspects of the miracle of the Qur’an itself, was completely ignored and in fact denied here. After all, RasulAllah was known very specifically as "nabiyy umiyy" - the illiterate Prophet!

Three questions immediately came to mind as I read this quote: How accurate is this quote (e.g. is it given in context with regards to its placement in the original author’s work), how correct is its translation, and how authentic is the quote itself?

Khan goes on to say:
“‘Umar is shown as asking Hafṣa to edit the Qur’ān on the basis of Muḥammad “teaching” her the correct recitation and writing of the said verse."

This, by itself, highlighted to me both the obvious agenda (once again, the usage of the phrase ‘edit the Qur’an’) and ignorance of the entire process of the recording, preservation, and transmission of the Qur’an. In addition, combined with the previous quote allegedly from Ibn Wahb, it seems rather clear to me that the issue was not the actual wording of the verses, but the qiraa’ah (recitation) of them instead. As well, this insistence that Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha) alone had some kind of monopoly on the written text of the Qur'an is either ignorant of or deliberately glossing over the entire communal effort and process of the preservation of the Qur'an - that which is known as a whole as the system of the sanad (chain of narration).

One particular section in Khan’s work is where she discusses the relationship between RasulAllah (sallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) and Hafsah (radhiAllahu ‘anha), going so far as to claim that she was his ‘least favourite wife’ and “there is nothing in the sources to suggest that there was a spark of attraction and/or affection between them in the stage before their marriage.”

Not only does this somehow imply that RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) was involved with any of his wives before marriage, but it also completely disregards the famous story of how RasulAllah married Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha). When her first husband was martyred, Umar went to both Abu Bakr and Uthmaan asking if they wanted to marry Hafsah. Both of them demurred, and Umar was dejected and went to RasulAllah to complain about them. In turn, RasulAllah told him "Hafsah shall marry someone better than Uthmaan, and Uthmaan will marry someone better than Hafsah." In this way, RasulAllah proposed marriage to Hafsah through 'Umar - and it was his intention to marry Hafsah which both Abu Bakr and Uthmaan had been aware of. 

What grated on my nerves most, however, was a rather bizarre fixation on the alleged stigma behind the one-divorce of Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha) and how it affected her status amongst not only the wives of RasulAllah, but as one of the most important people involved in the role of preserving the Qur'an. 
In "Did A Woman Edit the Qur'an?" itself, Khan refrains from mentioning the cause of Hafsah's divorce, despite the fact that the incident surrounding which most scholars mention in the tafseer of Surah at-Tahreem as one of the related asbaab an-nuzool - reasons for revelation). Strangely, Khan implies that because of this incident, Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha) was somehow considered 'lesser' or simply not taken as seriously by the wider Muslim community and later scholars. The emphasis on her divorce also ignores the time that RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) offered all his wives the option of divorce. 

Finally, despite Khan stating in her introduction that the focus of her book is 'modern western scholarship on how the Qur’ān came to be compiled and codified,' there are various statements and phrasing in the book that imply that classical Islamic scholars are at fault for minimizing or erasing the true extent of Hafsah's influence with regards to her role in the preservation of the Qur'an. 

For example: 
"It is at least worth asking: could the classical Islamic tradition have devised this first story (regarding Abū Bakr–‘Umar) to suppress and marginalize agency attributed to Hafṣa as regards editing and/or writing the sheets of the Qur’ān (i.e., ṣuḥuf)?"

Essentially, she seems to be making the case for a vast conspiracy theory that sought to render Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha) as irrelevant to one of the most important events of Islamic history... a theory which relies heavily on making it seem that Hafsah alone played a crucial role in preserving the Qur'an, and ignoring the vast and complex science that was developed specifically for that purpose.  

Nonetheless, with all the above having been mentioned, I will say that the one aspect in which Khan did well was discussing Hafsah (radhiAllahu 'anha) with regards to her literacy and intelligence, and her close relationship with her father, 'Umar ibn al-Khattab (radhiAllahu 'anhu). 

As has been noted in a previous #ForgottenHeroines article, 'Umar (radhiAllahu 'anhu) was known as Abu Hafs - a remarkable occurrence when considering the extremely misogynistic, patriarchal society he lived in, and despite the fact that he had many sons whom he could - by Arab tradition - been named after instead. 
Furthermore, Hafsah is often described as being similar to her father in temperament: "Hafsah had in her nature an aspect of the meaning of her name: She was somewhat stern and tough. Perhaps, she inherited that from her father 'Umar, al-Farooq." (Source: Women Around the Messenger, Muhammad Ali Qutb).  
There are various stories about Hafsah and her father: That he would go to her with rebukes regarding her brother, Abdullah ibn 'Umar; that he would as her for political advice during his khilaafah, as well as consult with her on religious matters (including his famous fatwah prohibiting Muslim soldiers to be away from their wives for longer than four months); that the Ummah would approach her to appeal to him on their behalf; and that she was named the executor of his will upon his death.
While some individuals - including Khan - imply that the relationship between Hafsah and 'Umar was one of a man exerting power over his daughter for political influence, it seems to me that what is deliberately disregarded is that rather, they had a bond between them that was one of mutual affection and respect alike. Certainly, Hafsah was known not to be weak willed and easily influenced by others, and 'Umar, despite his reputation for being harsh and stern with men and women alike, remained close to his daughter for the duration of his life. Together, they clearly formed a formidable team which was respected by everyone around them, men and women.

As an academic work, I found "Did A Woman Edit the Qur'an?" to be blatantly biased (which, to be honest, I expected) and also greatly lacking in referencing the positive manner in which the story of Hafsah bint 'Umar (radhiAllahu 'anha) is usually recorded in traditional books of Islamic biographies. Nonetheless, it was a reminder to me of how desperately we need a revival of awareness and knowledge regarding the #ForgottenHeroines of Islam and their influence on Islamic history, and how conservative Muslims need to reclaim the telling of our own stories rather than leaving it up to others to remodel for themselves and their own agendas.

A Crisis of Masculinity

In a time where feminism is a word used as both a badge of pride and an insult amongst Muslims and non-Muslims alike, where female empowerment is not just an idealistic concept but a steadily growing reality, there are plenty of men who claim that the rise of feminism has led to a crisis of masculinity (or lack thereof).

Many Muslim men find themselves on the defensive against those they consider the “new aggressive breed” of Muslim women, and often attempt to respond by going on the offensive, assuming a “uber-manly” persona. Yet in trying to assert their own manliness, they may end up going to the unIslamic extreme of misogyny, adopting cultural ideals of manliness and attempting to aggressively dominate women.

We know that Islam has clearly laid out guidelines for gender roles, with certain traditional expectations as well as revolutionary concepts. Women are encouraged to be good wives and mothers; but they are also encouraged to be educated, intelligent, and active in their communities and society as a whole.

But what about men? Yes, men are qawwamoon over women, they are in positions of authority and meant to be leaders on both the domestic and public scale - but what are the qualities and characteristics that our society and cultures consider to be 'masculine' and praiseworthy? Are they, in fact, truly positive, or have they been so warped and twisted by external influences that they in fact contradict the spirit of masculinity exemplified in the Sunnah?

The truth is that the standards of masculinity in both Muslim and non-Muslim societies have truly done an injustice to men as a whole - while keeping in mind the various issues related to feminism and the focused agenda on empowering women whithout involving men along the way.

Examples of such unhealthy standards are the idea that men who weep, who show softness, tenderness, and compassion in any way are 'weak' and 'effeminate'; that men do not experience problems like depression or heartbreak (or at least do not show their emotions when experiencing those issues; that men whose sisters, daughters, or wives are visible or active in any way are not 'keeping them under control'; and sexist jokes that repeatedly present men as selfish, hypersexed, incompetent bumbling idiots who are unable to look after themselves, express empathy for their wives, or care for their own children.

All of these ideas are perpetuated in media and in society, presenting a bizarre and paradoxical image of what being a 'man' really means.
The logical question arises: What *are* Muslim men supposed to be like? What does it mean to be a Muslim man? How do we define masculinity in an Islamic sense?

The first, and obvious, answer is clear: the ultimate example of masculinity is none other than our beloved Prophet, the Messenger of Allah, Muhammad (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam). In his personality, his actions, and his entire life, he was the perfect example of the ideal human, the ideal Muslim, and the ideal man.

A glance at the male Companions of the Prophet (sallAllahy ‘alayhi wa sallam) reveals to us men of drastically varied personalities and talents: shy, gentle ‘Uthmaan ibn ‘Affan; fierce ‘Umar ibn Khattab; stern, wise Abu Bakr; poetic Hassan ibn Thaabit; and noble Mus’ab ibn ‘Umayr (radhiAllah ‘anhum ajma’een).

Being around RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam) taught them that true masculinity lay not in conforming to a cartoonish parody of an ideal, but in embodying excellence of character that emphasized spiritual health as well as contributed to psychological well-being, and the overall positive growth of their families and societies.

These men understood that it was not wrong for men to weep from sorrow, nor for them to be affectionate and easy-going with their wives, nor to admit their own imperfections or ignorance in certain matters - whether they were around men or around women. They understand that their position and authority as Qawwamoon came from being authentic human beings who weren't afraid to show their humanity - including to those who could perceive their honesty as weakness. Their confidence in themselves and their humility as human slaves of Allah combined to create and foster an environment where they were respected as true leaders, and to assure other men that there were many different ways to *be* a strong, masculine leader.

Unfortunately today, we see too many men today who do not understand - and do not live by - the true essence of masculinity, but rather, rely on a warped ideal of masculinity as a response to changes that they feel unable to handle with intelligence, emotional maturity, and a holistic understanding of the Sunnah of RasulAllah (sallAllahu 'alayhi wa sallam), who was himself described as being 'more modest than a virgin girl' - which, I'm sure most of you will agree, does not seem at first to be a 'masculine' trait, and yet described the most perfect, most masculine man of all creation.

In short, it can be said that the only solution to the crisis of masculinity facing Muslim men who find themselves suddenly on par with women of equal intelligence and increasing influence is to remember that true masculinity, and the authority that accompanies it, comes not from clumsily trying to become a stereotype of a 'macho' man, but to hold themselves to a standard of emotional intelligence, authenticity, and Ihsaan (excellence).

#RaisingMuslimMen

The Ideal Muslimah - Muslim Montage

MuslimahMontage.com has featured my piece: The Ideal Muslimah.

 About Zainab:

Salafi feminist. Professional nomad. Untamed dreamer. Veiled warrior. Wandering scribe. Whimsical idealist. Wannabe biker chick. Incorrigible rebel. Absent minded mother. Faithful believer.

The Ideal Muslimah

The ideal Muslimah… is not afraid to have her own personality, whether she is as wise as Khadijah, passionate as A’ishah, fierce as Hind, noble as Zaynab, or demure as Maymunah.

The ideal Muslimah… follows the sunnah of Khadijah and uses her financial savvy to benefit the Ummah… and doesn’t allow others to tell her that she’ll never get a man that way.

The ideal Muslimah… is loved, valued, and married for her taqwa and beauty of character, not some shallow, arbitrary cultural standards of physical beauty.

The ideal Muslimah… is not a doormat. She has the wisdom of Umm Salamah, the audacity of A’ishah, the intelligence of Hafsa, the ego of Zaynab, and the humour of Sauda.

The ideal Muslimah… is someone who may never have children, like A’ishah; someone who may have numerous daughters but no sons, like Khadijah; someone who has children from a previous marriage, like Umm Salamah. Her worth as a human, as a believer, does not lie in her fertility.

The ideal Muslimah… has the courage of Zaynab bint Ali when she fights for what she believes in and faces down oppression, even if it comes from fellow Muslims.

The ideal Muslimah… does not allow her intelligence to be belittled or disrespected, for Allah created her to be of those who think.
{And He has subjected to you whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth – all from Him. Indeed in that are signs for a people who give thought.} (Qur’an 45:13)

The ideal Muslimah… is not kept locked away or helpless. She is a vibrant, contributing part of the Ummah and doesn’t let anyone tell her otherwise – because Allah told her so.
{The believing men and believing women are allies of one another. They enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong and establish prayer and give zakah and obey Allah and His Messenger. Those – Allah will have mercy upon them. Indeed, Allah is Exalted in Might and Wise.} (Qur’an 9:71)

The ideal Muslimah… is not perfect.
Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: “I swear by Him in whose hand is my soul, if you were a people who did not commit sin, Allah would take you away and replace you with a people who would sin and then seek Allah’s forgiveness so He could forgive them.” [Sahīh Muslim (2687)]

The ideal Muslimah… makes mistakes and knows it, but loves her Lord and repents to Him constantly.
{Indeed, Allah loves those who are constantly repentant and loves those who purify themselves.} (Qur’an 2:222)

The ideal Muslimah… is beloved to Allah, Who promised her paradise.
{Indeed, the Muslim men and Muslim women, the believing men and believing women, the obedient men and obedient women, the truthful men and truthful women, the patient men and patient women, the humble men and humble women, the charitable men and charitable women, the fasting men and fasting women, the men who guard their private parts and the women who do so, and the men who remember Allah often and the women who do so – for them Allah has prepared forgiveness and a great reward.} (Qur’an 33:35)

#ForgottenHeroines

Youthful Pioneers of an Ancient Path

When we think of pioneers, we usually imagine adults – strong, powerful people, usually men, who used their intellect, wealth, and other talents to influence the world around them in new ways. What we don’t think of are people like us: young girls and women, not only struggling with the daily challenges of a difficult world, but with the added responsibility of being the first standard-bearers of a revolutionary religious and spiritual movement.

Islam came to Makkah, and the world, as a provocative new call to a classic message: the pure worship of the One True God, and an accompanying spread of Divine Justice for all. Perceived to be insurrectionary by the elites of Makkan society, the early Muslims found themselves persecuted mercilessly and tortured without regard for age or gender.

Amongst the first believers in Muhammad (sallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) and his message were various women.

First and foremost were the women of his household: his wife, Khadijah, and his daughters, Zainab, Ruqayyah, Umm Kulthum, and Fatimah. Khadijah was a respected and powerful businesswoman, and in her there is the ultimate example of the career woman: a woman who was not afraid to pursue her interests in business, capitalize upon excellent opportunities, and invest her wealth in a cause she believed in.

Other women amongst the early Muslims included the celebrated martyr Sumayyah bint Khayyat, Asma bint Abi Bakr, and Nusaybah bint Ka’ab. Most of these women were considered to be young; all of these women left their mark in Islamic history. Two of the Prophet’s daughters were married to sons of Abu Lahab and were regularly tormented; Sumayyah was a slave who defied her master’s orders and resisted his agonizing punishment; Asma played a vital role in the Hijrah of RasulAllah (sallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam).

These women were the pioneers of Islam – without them, the history of the Muslim Ummah would be drastically different; without them, Muslim men would not have been able to accomplish the feats that they did, and Muslim women would have no examples, no role models to follow. Every Sahabiyyah was different, in terms of both individual personality and the roles that they played in the establishment of Islam and the foundation of the Muslim Ummah.

What these women all had in common, however, was that despite their circumstances – which differed from woman to woman – they all displayed an exemplary courage. To begin with, they live in a patriarchal society which devalued women and often considered them as property; from the outset, their worth as human beings was belittled due to their gender. When Islam entered their hearts, however, none of them allowed themselves to be intimidated into staying silent over their spiritual convictions. Whether they were stay-at-home mothers or business women; slaves or warriors, they each drew upon their inner strength of faith and character to stand up for what they believed in.

Today, many Muslim women feel that their gender, their ages, their financial circumstances, or other factors limit them in how they can practice Islam or play an important role in modern Islamic history.

The Sahabiyaat did not allow any external factors to prevent them from being amongst the strongest pioneers of Islam; no Muslim girl or woman today should let herself feel intimidated by the challenges she will face in her pursuit of Allah’s Pleasure.

“When a butterfly flaps its wings in China, a tornado brews in Texas,” the saying goes. Every Muslim woman is a butterfly: a small being on her own, pushed and pulled by different forces, but even the smallest act that we do with firm conviction and a sincere intention to please Allah can have an effect greater than we could ever dream of.

 Instead of despairing over our lack of control over the world, let us draw inspiration from the Sahabiyaat, from the youthful pioneers of an ancient path. Resolve to be a butterfly, and flutter your wings as fiercely as you can.

 Zainab bint Younus (AnonyMouse) is a young woman who finds constant inspiration in the lives of the Sahabiyaat and other great women in Islamic history. She hopes that every Muslimah is able to identify with the struggles of these inspirational women and follow in their footsteps to become a part of a new generation of powerful Muslim women. She blogs at http://www.thesalafifeminist.blogspot.com