A Tribute to the Unsung Muslimah

She is the sheikh’s wife, who takes your questions to her husband to answer because you are too shy to ask him yourself. She is the one you blame for denying women direct access to the sources of knowledge; whom you accuse of being jealous and possessive, afraid that her husband will want to marry you. She is the one who lovingly presses that piece of paper of yours into her husband’s hands, who encourages him to take ten minutes, twenty minutes, an hour longer away from his time with her, to solve your problems.

She is an unsung Muslimah.

She is the immigrant sister from an Arab country, struggling to speak English yet gladly giving up her Saturday mornings to sit in the masjid and try to teach you the complex rules of Tajweed. She is the one you grumble about, whom you make a face at behind her back, because you think her correction of your recitation is harsh criticism. She is the one you accuse of making the Qur’an “dry” and “boring” and makes you lose interest in it. She is the one who labours hard every week, praying to Allah that He uses her as a means of you recognizing the deep beauty of the Qur’an and drawing closer to Him.

She is an unsung Muslimah.

She is the kindly Indian aunty who labours over her stove to cook up some of her delicious chicken curry, to be served with sunny basmati rice with lentils, for the iftaar at the Masjid. She is the one you complain smells of sweat all the time, who carries with her an air of masaalah that follows her more strongly than any of the perfumes you spray on before you leave home. She is the one you accuse of stinking up the masjid. She is the one whose hard work and lovingly concocted delicacy you pick at, saying that you can’t stand the greasy sauce. She is the one who spent her precious, dwindling stock of money on the ingredients for that dish, so that she could have the reward of feeding the fasting Muslim.

She is an unsung Muslimah.

She is that young teenage Muslimah who cheerfully rounds up your kids at the masjid and tries to entertain them while you pray Taraweeh or listen to the halaqah. She is the one you scold for making the kids too excited and causing them to make noise. She is the one you harshly reprimand for allowing your precious son to have his toy taken away, making him come running to you crying. She is the one patiently controlling her temper with the little ones, when all she really wants is to listen to the same imam you are falling asleep listening to.

She is an unsung Muslimah.

She is the one who wants to make Eid fun for your kids and decides to throw an Eid party at the Islamic centre. She is the one whom you criticize for the hall being too crowded, the food too little, the children too noisy. She is the one you scream at for not controlling the children on the games, while you demand that your ickle wee Aboodi be allowed to go first on the ride. She is the one whom you forget to give your event ticket too, and she is the one who silently pays out of her own pocket to cover the cost. She is the one whose time, money, and frayed nerves she is spending for the Sake of Allah.

She is an unsung Muslimah.

(Copyright Zainab bint Younus aka AnonyMouse)

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 :)

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“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.

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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