- In ‘Merica, “North America” means “World Champions”
- New Jersey is where Broncos go to die.
- A hijabi is drinking a Coke somewhere in America, most likely with biryani or kebobs. #AmericaIsBeautiful
- God bless Amreeka, where all ethnicities succumb to the sugary, carbonated, fatty goodness of the marketing Unicron known as Coca-Cola and Pepsi.
- That #AmericaIsBeautiful @CocaCola commercial is probably the worst nightmare for some pockets of America.
- Silly online backlash to Coca-Cola’s America the Beautiful ad also reveals some of the nation’s lingering ugliness.
- English is the only language that’s American, tu comprendes, Coke?! Naam? Acha, theek? Bueno. America the Beautiful.
- Foreign Languages. Hijab. Black President. Immigrants. Geography. Now officially adding Coke to this august list of things “un-American”
- Bruno Mars can sing, dance, jump and play drums for 15 minutes without moving a single strand of his luscious, finely combed hair. Meanwhile, all Desi men above the age of 30 send evil eye to Bruno Mars.
- A Flea + A Legion of “Thugs” + a man named Bruno can make a Crappy Bowl intermittently Super.
- The dude who brings out the Lombardi Trophy must look like an extra from The Sopranos or The Godfather. He just left the gun, but brought the canoli…and the trophy.
- Roger Goodell should never be allowed to say “shout out” ever again.
- Horse + Dog + Passenger song is enough for a teetotaling Muslim to temporarily root for Budweiser.
- Electro in AMAZING SPIDERMAN 2 look like Mr. Freeze from BATMAN AND ROBIN: proof that humanity is doomed and never learns from its tragic mistakes.
- Scientology commercial during Super Bowl = Xenu is pleased.
- It takes Matrix + Opera + Laurence Fishburne + Agents eating a fancy dinner to finally make KIA’s cool.
- Apparently, if you give China, North Korea, Iran AXE deodorant, then they’ll embrace peace. Question the rest of the world is asking: “What deodorant will it take for America to change?”
- Super Bowl Commercials reveal all about ‘Merica’s obsessions: “Cars. Beer. Chips. Hollywood Movies. Armed Forces. Trucks. Animals selling beer. Blondes. Celebs selling soda, movies, cars, beer. Animals + Celebs selling beer.”
- The NFL is part of the American trinity that includes the Armed Forces and God. The Declaration of Independence makes an appearance once in a while. However, the Founding Fathers would probably be appalled black men are allowed to play a sport alongside white men. Just saying.
A countdown went on above Hakim as he lied on the ground looking off to the side. He made out blurry faces that whirled around like a wave. He looked up and saw what appeared like a man pointing his hand out with every count upwards.
“5…6…7…,” the shapes started to come together, the crowd became clearer, and his senses centered. His brain gave the signal to his joints, but they were slow to respond. One glove made it to the ropes as he tried pulling himself up. Through the ropes’ three openings, fans pumped their fists in the air and hollered out inaudible words. He threw his other arm up and over the rope, and like a pull-up tried raising his body upwards.
“8…9…,” He gave everything he had, from his core down to his ankles. He felt his body give way until all the energy, determination, and hope evaporated. As if dropped, his body slammed back down to the floor.
“Ten! He’s out!”
The referee looked one last time at him, and waved his hands over his head sideways, and the crowd erupted. Hakim looked over at his opponent who climbed the turnbuckle and started pounding his chest towards the crowd. The opposite corner men hugged each other, and threw their arms around their fighter as he jumped down to greet them. Hakim slid himself back to the turnbuckle, with his hands at his torso, and just breathed, and breathed.
He sat alone in the fighters’ locker room on a bench in front of his locker. His damp body air dried with only his neck receiving the touch of a white towel. The floor became his mirror and there he went into utter silence for a minute. As he looked up, his bruised, battered, and bloodied body glanced back at him through a mirror placed on the wall in front of him. He began touching his wounds, starting from a purple and brownish spot on his rib that pulsed with pain as he pressed into it, all the way up to his reddened cheek bone. Before he turned away from the mirror, a silver ring on his finger caught his attention. He averted his eyes from the mirror and looked at the ring for a few seconds, going over it with his other finger.
On a bus, Hakim sat in the back looking out the window. He wore a green v neck t-shirt and black soccer pants with his duffel bag sitting on his lap. Having passed the suburban posh homes, the GH 35 entered the rough area of Chicago’s neighborhood. Broken down fences, graffiti sprayed walls, and rims stripped of nets basketball courts.
Three men, two white and black, entered the bus at a stop wearing hoodies and beanies.
“Man you crazy, shit was getting heavy out there with that one dude,” one of the men said. Hakim glanced over at them for a second then looked back out the window.
“Ey yo look at her,” one of the white males said, pointing at a brunette woman sitting in two rows ahead of Hakim. She pulled her purse to her lap from her shoulder, and put her head down as the men made their way towards her.
Two of the men sat down a row ahead of the girl, while the remaining one leaned on the edge of the seat in front of the woman. She looked up at him, then back down.
“Wassup girl,” he said. She kept her head down and looked to the side, “You goin’ ignore me? Why don’t you scoot over a bit? Let’s chop it up real quick.” He slid his hand down her shoulder, and she punched it away with an open palm. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her into the corner, while the other men watched. Hakim slid his duffel bag to the side, stood up, and cracked his knuckles.
At the next stop, two of the men carried off their third member, whose gray sweatshirt now bathed in almost dried up blood. Hakim sat in the same position as before, in the backseat with his duffel bag on his lap. Both his knuckles had blood on them, some of his from punching so hard, and mostly from the man he had punched twice, once on the chin and once in the nose.
Hakim got off on Samper Road, and walked a block down the street to his apartment complex. He unlocked the door to find the place dark. After clicking on the lights, the room looked tidy and cleaner than before. He narrowed his eyes and looked up at the clock that read 9:30. The floor had been vacuumed. He could tell through the soft impact made whenever he took a step on the carpet. The counter, the table, everything had been swept, wiped, washed, and mopped, but Hakim only looked worried. An envelope sitting on the counter next to the sink, caught his eyes, and he dropped his duffel bag to the floor.
He lifted the seal, and took out from it a neat handwritten one page letter. It read:
I told you that I didn’t want to see you fighting anymore, and despite my plea, you went out and did just so. What’s worse is you left without telling me and lied about where you were when I had called you the other day.
We’ve been married for just over a year now, and I don’t feel happy anymore. You promised you’d make things work before we got into this relationship, you said if things got out of hand you’d leave boxing. I don’t care if you deny it or not, but look at where and how we’re living. Whenever I want to talk or spend time with you, there’s either a cut over your eye or a tear on your pride that I have to mend.
Hakim, I have no problem with being your support, but how long can you or I keep this up? We’re living here because you want it to be like this, because you don’t want any favors or anyone else offering any kind of help, not even me. Call me whatever you like, but this is beyond financial security, your career, or our marriage, you lied to me and couldn’t heed my one request. For that, I can’t go any farther with this relationship.
I’ve left you with a bit of money, please don’t let it sit and just accept it. It’s three months of rent, including groceries and other things.
I’m going to spend some time in New York with my family. You should also know I’m filing for a divorce, and the papers will arrive in a few days to a week.
I love you Hakim, and I always will. Please forgive me and I’m sorry. I wish you the best with whatever it is you do. Take care.
He stared into the last words of the letter, and the letter began to dampen as a tear from his eye fell onto “take care.”
At around 11pm, rain sprinkled the concrete floors outside and trickled against the windows, making enough noise to keep Hakim from his already in-and-out slumber. He hadn’t changed, nor had his eyes shut all the way in the past half-hour. He felt strange without the warmth and comfort of Faizah, who usually soothed him of the pain with her sweet words. He had twisted turned, laid on his back and his side to no avail. The sheets came off, and he walked out of the room.
In the kitchen, he opened the fridge that revealed milk, peanut butter, cheese, a few loafs of bread, and several yogurt containers. He looked at them with distaste, and pulled out the bread and cheese. As he put his bread into the toaster, he fetched himself a glass of milk and leaned against the sink. Thunder began to roar outside as the rain slipped off the windows. The mixture of lonely thoughts, pain from his wounds, and the cold air made him almost paranoid. Before it all overtook him, the ring of the toaster brought him back to the moment.
But he stared at the toaster, the sound bringing back painful memories, almost amplifying his current cuts and bruises to another level of pain. He snatched the two pieces of bread from the toaster, and smacked a piece of cheese between them. Without a plate, Hakim dropped on to the couch and turned the TV on. He flipped through about 20 channels until stopping at a highlight of professional boxing.
“Johnny “Quicks” Benson with lighting fast combinations put on a clinic as you can see here with an array of precisely timed power punches he..,” the highlight of Benson continued as the commentator narrated, “Roberts Jr. finally came toppling to an end when Benson connected on a two-punch combination in the 8th round, holding on to this welterweight title.”
All the while, Hakim hadn’t touched his sandwich, his eyes stuck to the screen and Benson’s ensuing post-fight interview.
“Man I just want to thank God, the city of Chicago for letting me do what I do. I grew up in tough times and I did what I had to do to come away with this victory and I just hope I can keep proving to the world why they call me one of the best in boxing,” Benson into a microphone looking into the camera.
Hakim turned the television off, and remained still, deep in thought. His milk stood on the table, and sandwich in hand, yet to have been bit. His eyes gazed into the sandwich for a few seconds. He threw the sandwich sideways and let out a yell.
“Ahh,” he slapped the glass of milk to the side that shattered into tiny shards covered in milk.
“Fuck,” he lifted the table with both hands and flipped it on its head, “Fuck!” He crumpled onto the floor, with his arms wrapped over his knees and chin tucked, “Fuck,” he murmured. He sniffled again and again as another, yet more aggressive, round of tears fell from his eyes. The blinds, halfway open, gave way to the only light in the room, with occasional thunder flashing up the inside like a disco ball.
He lifted his head, and faced the windows. From his pocket, he dug out Faizah’s slightly crumbled letter he had folded. The letter crushed and shrunk under the vice grip he applied to it from inside of his fists. His palm swiped away at the tears, and he propped up. He flung open the door and took a few steps out to the small lawn next to the driveway.
Hundreds of droplets of rain dabbed his face as he closed his eyes and lifted his chin to the sky. He let his hands dangle at his hips. After a few seconds, his band aids dampened and began to come apart, but he stayed still. Cool tingles went down his spine, and with every crack of thunder he held his ground.
His hands pushed his now silky wet hair back, while his eyes reemerged open. His tears and rain mixing, he looked down at the letter. The ink began to drip from the paper that had become soft as tissue paper. After bringing the letter eye-level, he ripped it apart, and let it fall to the ground. He stomped on the letter once, then pressed his forefoot into it and pivoted back and forth.
He looked back up to the sky, “I was doing this for you! This was all for you!” He punched at the rain falling on him, “I took the fight for you! Got hit for you! How much more do you and her want from me? Answer me damn it! Answer me!”
He fell onto his knees, and continued to bathe in the rain and thunder.
Abu Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Abu Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldn’t put Abu Humpy together again.
So they framed his son, Humpty, instead.
Without Miranda, cuffed him and dragged him out of his bed.
Sentenced by a vegan judge in front of an honorable jury of his egg white peers,
He left the court for prison in tears.
That night, he wept himself to sleep chained in a bracelet,
The next day, the warden and guards opened their fast with a salty omelette.
Can Pamela Geller work with straight and queer Muslims?
Dr. Junaid Jahangir
Recently, San Francisco public officials and queer community leaders expressed concerns that the anti-gay bus ads backed by Pamela Geller would denigrate the city’s Muslim community. Indeed, by emphasizing the outrageous comments of controversial Muslim leaders, these ads incite fear and demonize an entire minority.
Instead of stereotyping and generalizing, can the likes of Pamela Geller recognize the immense work being done by both straight and queer Muslims? Instead of creating divisiveness, can they work with Muslims towards affecting positive change?
The ads include the controversial opinions of President Ahmedinejad — ‘In Iran, we don’t have homosexuals’ and of the influential Sheik Qaradawi of the Muslim Brotherhood — ‘the punishment for homosexuality is death’.
However, such selective references provide a misguided view of the current Muslim position on queer rights issues. By putting the spotlight on President Ahmedinejad, Geller’s ad ignores the work of queer Iranian activists like Arsham Parsi and developments like the Iranian Gay Pride that took place in Turkey in 2011.
Geller’s ad also does not account for the academic work by Iranian Professor Arash Naraghi, who has argued that it is possible to be a devoted Muslim and believe that homosexuality is morally permissible.
It does not seem reasonable to quote Sheik Qaradawi without mentioning that over 2,500 Muslim intellectuals from 23 countries not only called for an international treaty to counter such clerics but also for a tribunal set by the United Nations Security Council to put them on trial for inciting violence.
It is also noteworthy that Muslim Professor Scott Kugle argued in an academic article how Sheik Qaradawi churns out his homophobia as part of ‘an agenda to reinforce perceived threats to Muslim masculinity’.
Cherry picking quotes from homophobic Muslim leaders and projecting on the entire Muslim community is akin to stereotyping the entire Christian community by referencing equally influential evangelical leaders who believe gays should be put to death and the Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni, whose links with American fundamentalist Christian groups has led to the immense persecution of the Ugandan queer community.
It is also noteworthy that instead of referencing Muslim leaders from the United States, Geller’s ads make use of quotes from fanatical Muslim leaders who are living through upheavals in Egypt and economic difficulties in Iran.
Both American political and religious Muslim leaders have very different views on queer rights than what the Geller ads would have us believe. In 2009, the Council on American-Islamic Relations supported the hate crime bill that sought to incorporate sexual orientation and gender identity.
Among Muslim political leaders, Geller may quote Ako Abdul Samad, the Iowa State representative from the 66th district, as saying ‘if standing up for equal protection under the law is a sin, then all of us in this room are sinners’.
Geller can also reference the first Muslim Congressman Keith Ellison, representative of the 5th district in Minnesota, as stating, ‘I am proud to be vice-chair of the Congressional Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Caucus’.
He can also be quoted as saying, ‘It is not your place to judge and condemn others’ and ‘If the person you happen to love and want to be with happens to be the same-sex and gender as you then I say God Bless you and try to be as happy as you can in this very difficult world’.
Likewise, Geller can reference the second Muslim Congressman Andre Carson, representative of the 7th district in Indiana, as stating, ‘As a proud member of the LGBT Equality Caucus, I am committed to the Caucus’ mission to “achieve the extension of equal rights, the repeal of discriminatory laws, the elimination of hate-motivated violence, and the improved health and well-being for all, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity or expression”’.
Among Muslim religious leaders, Geller can quote Imam Johari Malik, director of Outreach at the Dar Al Hijrah Islamic Centre in Northern Virginia, as stating, ‘If someone says, “gay sex is nasty”, just ask them, “how do you know?” … “It’s time to get past our homophobia to help human beings”’.
Likewise, Geller can also reference Imam Suhaib Webb of the Islamic Society of Boston Cultural Center, the largest mosque in the New England area, as stating, ‘If someone who’s a homosexual comes to the mosque, wants to pray, wants to worship, be part of the community, I have no issue with that,’ and ‘Ultimately, people who have whatever inclinations in their life, no one has a right to bar them from their experience with God.’
It would be academic dishonesty and intellectual sloth to quote classical Muslim texts to represent the current conservative Muslim opinion. Just as the Jewish halacha changes with new knowledge and moral sensibilities so does the Muslim Sharia.
Even conservative leaders like Imam Muzammil Siddiqi, director of the Islamic Society of Orange County in California, one of the largest mosques in the U.S., who had earlier proscribed queer people and stated that ‘no one is born a homosexual’, have slightly shifted their view point on the issue.
In a recent interview, he mentioned, ‘many Muslim jurists today are inclined to accept on the basis of modern research that it is quite possible that people may be born with this [orientation]’ and that ‘we all have to learn and understand things more, so we do change our minds on the basis of understanding the human situation’.
Indeed, by accepting same-sex orientation but prescribing permanent celibacy for queer people, the conservative Muslim opinion is somewhat similar to the Vatican ‘hate the sin love the sinner’ position.
However, Islam is not a monolith. While, acknowledging the classical Islamic position, Professor of Islamic Law, Dr. Mohammad Fadel mentioned in the context of the 2012 U.S. Elections, ‘I think one can certainly take the view, and I know a lot of Muslims might find this to be controversial, that we can support the idea of same-sex marriage because what we want is to make sure that all citizens have access to the same kinds of public benefits that other people do’.
Fadel’s opinion is not novel in this regard, for the late Imam Zaki Badawi had expressed in the context of U.K. civil partnerships that queer Muslims could take advantage of such relationships provided they were not sexually active.
Similarly, Dr. Omid Safi recently weighed in on same-sex marriage in the U.S. He has clearly stated ‘Love is love. Family is family, though they come in different shapes. My children have gay and lesbian friends. They belong a social club at school that is an alliance of straight, gay, lesbian, and bi-sexual students’.
Referencing the Prophet’s saying ‘Do not do onto others what you dislike for yourself’, he has come out in full support of marriage equality by stating ‘Live and let live. If it’s important to you to be married and have your love recognized by the state, recognize that it is important to others’.
The strongest support for queer Muslims in the U.S. comes from the community Muslims for Progressive Values, which has chapters and gender and queer inclusive mosques in Los Angeles, Atlanta, Washington D.C., Salt Lake City and Columbus, Ohio. Their Board of Directors includes Imam Daayiee Abdullah, who leads the Mosque for Enlightenment and Reform and who has worked for the queer Muslim community for over two decades.
Where the Geller ads fail to recognize this diversity of positions amongst Muslims in the U.S., some commenters on the news articles on the Geller ads, exhibit a lack of nuance in their understanding of the queer Muslim situation.
Instead of obtaining information from queer Muslim groups both in the U.S. and abroad, commenters on the Geller ads news articles expressed alarm on the “emergency” situation for queer people in places like Saudi Arabia, mentioned the stoning of a Somali gay man and referenced the Prophet’s saying that prescribes the death penalty for ‘homosexuals’.
However, unlike the emergency situation in Uganda, Nadya Labi depicted in her article ‘The Kingdom in the closet’ how gay life flourishes in a place with religious and cultural taboos. Likewise, it is noteworthy that Muhammad Aslam Khaki, a lawyer who specializes in Islamic law, assisted the Pakistani transgender and inter-sexed community – the Hijras, at the Supreme Court, which eventually recognized their equal rights as citizens of Pakistan.
Referring to the execution of the Somali gay man, queer Muslim activist Afdhere Jama has stated that queer Somalis ‘have all agreed this story is fake’. Likewise, even conservative Muslim religious leaders like Imam Muzammil Siddiqi have expressed that the Prophet’s saying that prescribes the death penalty for ‘homosexuals’ is inauthentic.
Instead of being a Debbie Downer, and instead of showing half-baked concerns for the queer Muslim community, Geller and the commenters can show genuine concern by talking to queer Muslims, who despite facing both Islamophobia and homophobia, continue their work with dignity.
Indeed, Geller and the commenters will find that tactics that include cultural imperialism, which include the June 2012 Pride celebration held by the American Embassy in Pakistan only imperil the queer Muslim community living in places whose laws were shaped by the Victorian morality of their colonial masters.
Geller and the commenters will also find that if they are genuinely interested in helping queer Muslims, they would listen to queer Palestinian activists like Haneen Maikey, who has expressed on the Israeli occupation, ‘Stop speaking in my name and using me for a cause you never supported in the first place … stop bombing my friends, end your occupation, and leave me to rebuild my community’.
Geller and the commenters can also help queer Muslims causes by supporting the Iranian railroad for queer refugees, U.A.E. based queer Muslims with their concerns with the NYU Abu Dhabi campus, or the closer to home 2013 Philadelphia LGBTQ Muslim retreat.
In short, instead of creating fear mongering and divisiveness, will Geller and the commenters overcome their limitations to work with Muslims, both straight and queer, towards affecting positive change?
Dr. Junaid Jahangir is a Lecturer of Economics at MacEwan University.
An earlier version of this article was published on March 28 in the Huffington Post.
For a different perspective on Islam and Homosexuality, check out Gareth Bryant’s piece in Altmuslim
Here’s a collection of 3 great poems reflecting the extraordinary beauty of an “ordinary” town. Thanks to award-winning poet Melanie Simms for her submission.
(“SUNBURY,” “Ode To A Lover On the Susquehanna,” and “The Return”)
These are the recollections of an old town
Where streets are encumbered with uneven pavements
And small businesses face uncertain economies
Yet it is here, in the midst of faces, hardened by poverty
That the rich tones and memorable notes of Sunbury must be remembered; the
Susquehanna shifting alongside her shore, as lithe boats flit across iridescent waves
And an old grey wall stands sentinel, offering testament to the tales of a great
It is here where the moans of the daily trains chug down the old tracks,
And the air, electrified with the past, still echoes the librettos of Lorenzo Da Ponte
This is where you breathe the daily Market Street aroma of the Squeeze In, where
even now one can feast on hotdogs, chips and soda for a beggar’s fee
While enjoying its notoriety for its inclusion in the Guinness Book of World Records
For its smallness.
There are other memories not to be forgotten; a certain Hotel Edison whose
ghosts whisper of a time when Edison arrived, searching for new
Methods of light, and photos, still clinging to the hotel lobby walls
Depicting an image of a little ghost boy, still mesmerizing guests and reminding us
That even in the fires of regret, one can still arise victorious!
Ode To A Lover On the Susquehanna
“Ever newer waters flow on those who step into the same waters”
Love needs no language,
Along the Susquehanna, watching as she twists and bends
Returning to mouths,
Where sunlight and lovers meet.
Where the silver maple and black cherry sway patiently,
Amidst the romantic odes of the meadowlark,
Or the ecstasy of the osprey,
As they dive and reemerge,
Fed by the river.
Where the haunting tales of lush mountains
record through the ages,
Those first seedlings of love.
Here, along the river, she reveals us to one another,
As we confess our love, baptized between her gentle waves.
How has she found us?
Here along the Susquehanna, reflecting in our gaze,
the memories of our ancient love’s return.
The voices of seers
Wage war with their lips
Foretelling a certain defeat
“He won’t return”
Their proclamations beat like Thor’s hammer
Nailing the lid to the coffin
Of our love’s final hour.
But even in the place where love dies, I will look for you
And find us a shelter against the harsh words of those who witness against us.
Defying the fates of Clotho, Atropos and Lachesis
And amidst the tranquil world of dreams, between the veil of life and death
You will greet me, and we will rejoice and embrace, freed from the shackles
Of time’s inequities.
Until then, I will weep in the world of mortal men
Weep against their cruelties
But even in my weeping,
I will stand strong against the ragings of life, knowing the wisdom of the ages:
“A tree that does not bend with the wind, by the wind will be broken”
And oh how I will bend to survive, and reclaim you!
Melanie Simms is an award winning international poet. Her poems have been featured in numerous magazines, literary journals and newspapers including the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, CLAM (UC Berkeley) and Taj Mahal Review. She has been a guest poet on PCN Television and several radio shows including WITF, WKOK, WVIA, WMNF and recently the World Poetry Cafe in Canada. Currently Melanie attends Bloomsburg University where she studies Creative Writing. She currently lives in Sunbury, Pa. Her website is at: http:www.poetmelaniesimms.wordspress.com
Adeel Ahmed – “Muslim Men Can Be Feminists”
Living in local pagan society in the 7th century Arab world, the Prophet Muhammad was seen as a feminist. Women were given little to no rights. It was custom to bury unwanted female newborns. Women were property of their husbands and they weren’t allowed to vote. The Prophet Muhammand preached and advocated against these actions. Islamic law made the education of girls a duty, giving the right to women to inherit and own property. Even the Prophet’s wife, Khadija, was a businesswoman.
Of course, 14 centuries later these advances may not seem like much. But, now, living in the 21st century, it seems like Muslims are stuck in the 7th century. We’ve heard about the honor killings, the lack of rights given to women in Muslim countries, and of course, shooting of girls like Malala all in the name of Islam. Yet Muslims defend their religion saying those who are using Islam as a justification to these actions are misconstruing the religion. Only to lead one to ask, “then where does this come from?”
The problem starts within the Muslim community itself. Go to a mosque and a woman will find herself entering through a separate entrance, usually a back door of some sort, into a small cramped room or the basement of the building. I’ve even witnessed a women’s room that didn’t have air conditioning during the summer while men did. The women of this mosque had to raise money through a fundraiser to get their system working, even though there were funds within the mosque that could do this.
Recently, at a local mosque, I was asked to join a shura, a consultation committee that puts together recreational events and makes decisions for the mosque. The purpose of this particular shura was to help promote and encourage youth and young adults to come to the mosque through programs.
It was near the beginning of Ramadan, so we planned a Ramadan kick-off barbeque in a park. As we laid out the details, I soon realized that the all-male shura was only planning to invite young men. When I raised my hand and asked why women were not invited, I was stared at with shock.
“But Brother, we cannot encourage mingling with the opposite sex,” one shura member explained. “That is bid’ah,” (innovation of the religion that is looked down upon).
I tried arguing about how unfair it was that women were being left out. Yet, no one listened. So, I decided to do research on women and their “mosque” rights.
I began sending emails to the men in the shura. First about how the mosque’s structure was flawed by separating men and women. During the Prophet Muhammad’s time men and women actually prayed in the same space. The prophet Muhammad didn’t put women behind partitions. I further explained that during the most sacred event a Muslim can partake in, Hajj, or pilgrimage, men and women stand side by side and pray together. If you believe separation is absolutely necessary, I explained to the men in the shura, there’s no need for walls and sheets as barriers. Barriers are just sexist man-made rules.
Next, I asked about the consequences of discouraging women from partaking in mosque activities. Would we also tell children they cannot come? Afterall, it is the women of these families who take care of the children. If the mother is treated like a second class citizen, how do the kids of these families get involved? The Prophet never discouraged a woman in a mosque, who are we to do that?
Again, no response.
As a consequence of these emails, I was slowly separated from the shura. No more emails about weekly meetings, I was taken off the WhatsApp group. No more text messages about upcoming agendas.
I don’t think all mosques are like this, but I do know enough to know that many women around the globe are treated as second-class citizens in Muslim communities. Living in America, it comes to me as a shock. How are second-generation American Muslims okay with this behavior and carrying on these traditions that are intertwined by culture, not religion?
As American Muslims, perhaps we should look at American history. During times when women were suppressed, men stepped up. During the woman suffrage movement, men were some of the first active and vocal supporters. Without votes by Congressmen, women’s rights would not have moved forward.
And just like the brave men who stepped up to move women ahead and help them gain rights, Muslim men must step up and push for the rights and voices of women in their communities and mosques. It is important for Muslim men around the globe to become vocal about these issues and hopefully move forward from the 7th century mentality and culture. There have been enough Malala shootings and honor killings. We must start from within our community with baby steps and start to respect Muslim women in order to see a change.
Adeel Ahmed is an actor and writer based in NY. He has performed at The Kennedy Center and his work has screened at Sundance Film Festival and SXSW. Most recently shot a pilot for HBO entitled Criminal Justice. Credits include: The Domestic Crusaders, Law and Order, Deception. He has been a guest on NPR, BBC and more.
Amrik Singh, 60 could not bear the thought of his children turning into anything other than doctors. God forbid they turn into teachers or gasp, social workers – like him. Coming from a family of farmers, he immigrated to the United States from India almost 4 decades ago. Today he beams with pride when he says that all three of his children are now doctors.
“If you are a doctor, right away you become a great achievement in both American society and Indian society,” he says confidently. He does not pretend that it is all about social status either though. The money that doctors earn in the United States is just too darn good. “You don’t know. There is economics here,” he insists. Singh is firm in his belief that a relatively high income is necessary to have “made it” in the United States. “The idea for coming here was to be economically successful. There is no point in living hand to mouth,” he insists.
Numbering at about 2.7 million, South Asians living in the United States hail from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan and Sri Lanka. South Asians, and Indian Americans in particular, continue to fill many important positions in science and technology. Indians, who make up less than two percent of the American population, today make up five percent of all doctors and account for ten percent of all medical school students. There are also thousands of Pakistani Americans practicing medicine. Indians are three percent of the nation’s engineers and seven percent of its IT workers.
Many children of South Asian parents deal with what the say is an unrelenting familial pressure to pursue only certain careers, like medicine and engineering. These days, law and finance seem to be making the cut as well. What results for some of these children in their adulthood is a lack of job satisfaction and a frustration of not having pursued their passions.
These days, more South-Asian Americans are defying tradition and are taking their chances in careers that would cause Amrik Singh and others of his generation nightmares. They are becoming writers, designers and activists to name a few. They do so despite the criticisms they face from their communities, the relative lack of job safety for some occupations and the cut in pay.
“There is a construction of a cliche of what success is,” says Dr. Vijay Prashad. Dr. Prashad, professor of international relations at Trinity College says that it is no accident that so many young South Asians find themselves working in math and science fields. According to his book, “The Karma of Brown Folk,” the governmental policies of India have much to do this phenomenon. In 1947, Jawarharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of India said that the “new India” would be “closely linked to science” and made it a priority to create state-funded learning institutions devoted to science. The trend has not changed even today.
The institutions created a generation of skilled workers mostly from the middle class, many of whom would make their way into the United States via the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act. Between 1966 and 1977, thousands of scientists with PhDs, engineers, and doctors came from India alone. The majority of Pakistani immigrants who arrived between 1965 and the early 1980s also came as skilled migrants.
Dr. Prashad argues that children tend to follow the career paths of their parents which he claims also contributes to the large numbers of young South doctors and engineers.
Despite these impressive accomplishments, are young South Asian doctors, engineers, pharmacists and the like happy in their careers? From a financial perspective, probably. Such careers continue to fetch more money than most other fields.
For some though, the money does not make up for everything. Always very close to her parents, Dr. Alka Chandna would have no contact with her’s for two months after she announced to them that she was leaving her job as a software developer to work with People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) full time. Her voice still breaks as she recalls the day she told them about her decision. “They thought I was entering a black hole, a world they didn’t understand,” she says softly. “I’ve blocked the conversation from my mind,” says Chandna, who lives in Washington D.C.
Like many South Asians, Chandna was encouraged to pursue medicine but refused, believing that it was morally wrong to use animals for dissections in medical school. While her two sisters would go on to become physicians (and her brother an engineer) Chandna went on to get a PhD in mathematics, just like her father (her mother also has a PhD).
She understands why her parents wanted her to pursue a career in science. Chandna grew up in Canada experiencing racism; she remembers having her house spray painted and having eggs thrown at it. “Going the profession route was the path out of that life,” she says.
Today she is PETA’s Laboratory Oversight Specialist where she studies the regulations and guidelines that govern the use of animals in laboratory settings. Her relationship has improved with her parents since that fateful day ten years ago. “It wasn’t as horrible as they were worried it was,” she says. “They’ve come to a place where they are very pleased.”
Chandna enjoys working with PETA even though she is making about half of what she was making in Silicon Valley. “Working for PETA makes the world a kinder place,” she says.
Husna Butt, a 24 year old Pakistani-American from Chicago felt that she was “living a lie” while a student in medical school a few years ago. She decided to quit medical school about 20 minutes after taking a makeup exam for classes she failed in the previous semester. “I was not new to failure, that’s not what bothered me,” she says. “What bothered me was that I did not want to make the effort anymore.”
An artist at heart, she loved drawing portraits as a child. She remembers her father, an engineer, telling her and her two sisters that they should become doctors when they got older. Feeling “lost” as an undergrad and yearning for independence from her parents, she gave medical school a chance. “I enjoyed every second of it, especially in the beginning,” she says. “But I was not serious about any of it and I realize now that’s because I was not passionate about medicine itself.”
Today Butt is pursuing a career in graphic design and completed a certificate in fashion design. Her parents are supportive. “I think they worry about me though but I also think that’s normal,” she says. Her two sisters, meanwhile, are both physicians.
Farhana Huda Islam, 29, from Queens, New York was also a budding artist as a child. She started a magazine in college that continues to be published after her graduation. She expressed her desire to become an English teacher to her Bangladeshi parents but was met with swift disapproval. “They thought it was not prestigious,” she says. “That I would not make much money.” She was encouraged to pursue pharmacy, like her father.
At St. John’s University’s pharmacy program, she found many South Asian students, some of whom were just as upset about their predicament as she was. A whopping 62 percent of the students in Islam’s pharmacy program today are of Asian origin.
She felt frustrated with having to follow a curriculum that was, not surprisingly, largely science based and left little room for her to take liberal arts courses. At one point she created a Facebook page called “I Hate Pharmacy! My Dad Made Me Do It!” attracting others who could resonate with its message.
Islam eventually graduated from her pharmacy program and has been a pharmacist for the past five years. She says that her experience has not been all that bad. “I have a passion for people, making a difference in their lives.”
But the writing bug has not gone away, and the mother of two wants to go back to school to get a Masters in Fine Arts someday.
“I always wonder what would have happened to my potential if I were in classes that sparked my interest,” she says. “I still want to write.”
Wajahat Ali, 31 wants to see more South Asians take their chances in the liberal arts and he is quick to explain that he is not trying to bash doctors and engineers. “If that’s your passion, talent and choice, go for it,” he says. “But we kind of already have enough engineers and doctors.”
Born and raised in California, his family immigrated to the United States from Pakistan. He remembers when he wrote his first story at the age of ten. “I brought it home and my father said you should be a writer. My mother overheard it and she said ‘yea but first become a doctor.”
Ali went to law school (“I missed the doctor boat,” he says) though he admits that he did not have an extreme passion for the subject.
After being unemployed for months following his graduation, Ali embarked on his “unorthodox” career as a new media journalist. He developed a following with his blog, Goatmilk.com where he wrote essays about politics, Islam and contemporary affairs with a humorous spin. In the midst of his unorthodox career, he also briefly practiced law, work he found rewarding.
Today, he has nearly 7,000 followers on Twitter and his play, The Domestic Crusaders, has been published into a book. In addition, his essays frequently appear in the Guardian, The Washington Post and Salon.com amongst other leading publications. He recently edited a book about prominent Muslims in America and is currently writing a TV pilot with Dave Eggers for HBO about a Muslim American cop in the Bay Area. He is also a consultant on issues related to Muslims and civil rights.
But getting to this point was not easy. Members of the Pakistani community mocked his efforts while he built his career. Women initially ignored him too. (However, he is now happily married.)
Ali says that he could be making more money as an attorney but is sticking to his “unorthodox” career for the time. “You learn to live lean if you pursue this career,” he says. He worries about the future sometimes though and wonders about money and how he will take care of his parents when they get older.
Dr. Prashad encourages South Asians to become more adventurous in their career pursuits. “There is a need to venture out. We are human beings, with imaginations,” he says. “It is an incredibly healthy thing to promote a variety of occupations.” He discusses exciting prospects of careers that weave science and the arts, such as software design and computer animation.
“These days, South Asians are actually making waves in the world of arts and humanities,” says Prashad.
Ali says that the initial disdain he received from his community has been replaced by a realization that more people like him are needed. “Some old school uncles are now saying ‘No one is telling our stories, what you’re doing is valuable and important.”
And the compulsion to create remains strong for him, despite the challenges. “There’s a joy there. There is hard work. Yes it’s brutal. But it’s fulfilling.”
Farah Akbar is a freelance writer from Queens, New York. She has written for Salon.com, The Gotham Gazette, City Limits and CNN.com. She graduated from Baruch College.