Salaam alaikum,
I don’t know about you but lately, reading anynewspaper article or book about Muslims always leaves me feeling exhausted and frustrated. What’s equally frustrating is when many of the writings are penned by Muslim women who are offering a more balanced, truthful look into our lives–only to have the commentators and critics say that we can’t fully articulate our experiences. We are unable to discuss Islam, Muslim men and oppression without bias because we are so wrapped up in our collective oppressive experiences that our words can’t be trusted. So if a Muslim woman writes a article about the liberating aspects of hijab or the need to end the practice of honor crimes through teaching Muslims that it’s actually against Islamic teachings, it’s because she’s deluded. She doesn’t realize she’s living an oppressed life. Her mind, body and spirit are enslaved. Even as she musters up the intellect to write an article about the disasters of foreign policy in Iraq or the condemnation of sexism and violence in her community, because she has an attachment to Islam (either devoutly or through seasonal religious practice) her voice is rendered as suspect. It’s as if they believe we all suffer some collective Stockholm Syndrome!
Personally, I’m sick of playing whack-a-mole. I think a lot of us are sick of whack-a-mole. It seems that no matter how many cultural fires we put out, another one pops up. I can’t even mourn the death of our dear sister Aqsa Parvez without worrying about how people will use her death as a way to attack us Muslim women–the very people they claim they are trying to save. And for the life of me, I don’t know why a non-Muslim man can strangle, chop up and burn his ex-girlfriend’s body parts on a patio grill and nobody dares to link this to his religion (even though he was Black, so they may link it to his race). But if a Muslim man does the same thing, it’s an indictment of Islam and all Muslims–even the Muslims who condemn and fight the injustices! I guess I don’t understand the cognitive dissonance of a people who can hand slap Muslims for violence and depravity and fail to realize the same oppression and dysfunction in their own society. (Because we all know slavery exists in the West and East but it manifests itself in different ways).
I don’t know if this is some pessimistic rant or if I’ve working through certain creative issues. But lately, I’ve been trying to figure out what are my duties as a Muslim woman writer? It’s only within recent years that I have attached the word “writer” to my identity. It’s also within these years that I’ve published articles in print and online publications. Through working with Azizah Magazine, I see how having access to the media can change people’s perceptions–that is if they are willing to accept that their perceptions are wrong or at best, unsophisticated. We often get books from publishing companies who hope that we will write a glowing book review. And some of the books that we get–subhan’Allah! :-) Orientalism is now prepackaged with new stories of women escaping Islamdom with a new boyfriend (or girlfriend), new job, new wardrobe and cleavage to boot! You can’t conquer Islamofascism without the sexy hairdo and tetas, ya know?
At the 2006 ISNA convention, Brother Dash and other Muslim writers were on a panel discussing the challenges of being a writer. He stated that if God gives you the blessing of a platform to express your ideas, it’s your responsibility to give people something poignant and worthy. Your time in the spotlight, whether in print or on the mic, is not solely an exercise of egoistic creative release but of revealing truth. So the blessing of talent–the freedom that comes with the ability to express yourself creatively–also comes with the responsibility of producing something profound. Writing should make people think! Literature should open minds, not confirm their worse nightmares and stereotypes. How can Muslim women fit into this equation without having the constant second-guessing of our intentions?
Is the world still not ready to hear what we have to say? Are our words really that dangerous? And when we do speak, must we only speak using the archetype of “victim”? Must we all turn ourselves into Hirsi Alis and Manjis in order to get published or to have our words taken seriously? Well, I could spin a intriguing tale of sexual repression, illicit affairs, draconian punishments and perversion. After all, fiction is fiction. I could weave a tale of a black-clad beauty, with her black long locks, struggling to key her pent-up sexual urges under her big black burqa. (Cuz don’t you know, the color is Islam is not green. It’s BLACK!!!!) I could make up something about myself–put some kohl on my eyes, try my best to do a fake Arab accent and change the entire content of this blog. Izzy Mo, the creative plucky Black Muslim girl from the South would be no more! Izdihar, the blogger from (insert scary Muslim land), who dares to write about her dreams as she lives out her daily druggery of cooking, cleaning, child-rearing, belly-dancing for her husband’s friends and surviving daily gang rapes and acid-burnings. Please give me a book deal!
I could write about that stuff. Of course, it would be a big fat lie and I do have some integrity. And I would rather write about my truth: my experiences, hopes and dreams as an American Muslim woman and not have it attacked because it doesn’t fit the current fantasy of Muslim babes on lock-down. I want those great novels of strong, devout Muslimas. Or how about struggling Muslimas who triumph over spousal abuse with their faith intact? And yes, I want a Muslim man to be the noble protagonist. We must recognize those brothers who are working for justice.
I refuse to believe that in order to heard, I have to take on the opportunistic screeds of Ayan Hirsi Ali or applaud the Muslim minstrel shows of Danielle Crittenden. (Sweetie, please keep your posturing, “travels-to-the-Oriental Other” to yo’self! Don’t have me get the niqaabi mafia on ya!) I have no problems reading about domestic violence in Muslim lands or the wack-a-doo happenings in the KSA. But please don’t act as if we haven’t been addressing these issues while also addressing the less sexy issues of health care, poverty, education and famine. After all, most of us will not be lashed or gang-raped by order of some tribal nut. But most of us will experience job loss, infertility, cancer, divorce, obesity, and depression–you know, those same issues that plague us here in the magical perfect world of the West?
Only time can tell if the wonderful day will come when bookshelves will be filled with novels, essays and anthologies on Muslim women, written by Muslim women! One day, I would love to see our stories told with nuance, with a realization of life’s grays rather than the black and whites of propaganda and war. But until then, I’ll punch these keys and hope that this blog will help me find my voice. And once I find it–may I not be afraid to shout!
