‘I’ll tell them to take the first one they get,’ said Noreen seriously. ‘I wish I had done that, at least I wouldn’t be in this hapless, manless situation.’
‘Maybe these men have let their mothers search for their wives, and because we don’t fall into the mould of “good traditional wife”, we’ve been excluded!’ Sara was cross: she was starting to think mean thoughts about these men and their spines. I could tell it was going to get very ugly very quickly.
‘We’ve had to work so hard to find a partner, and these men just waltz in and take who they want and expect us to fall in line. That’s not being a decent man! Even though I love cooking and looking after the house and I want to have lots of children, that doesn’t mean I want someone who just expects me to stay at home all day in traditional servitude!’ Sara’s cheeks were burning neon red.
Noreen put her arm around Sara’s shoulders to comfort her and calm her down, but Sara had another furious complaint. ‘Why are all these men going “back home” to marry? We want to marry men who have had a similar upbringing to us and share the new identity and perspectives that we’ve had to create to find our place. I can’t marry someone from “back home” because I can’t talk to them and they just don’t understand the new environment that we’re in. The men don’t seem to care, they just want to find a traditional wife and have an easy life. No wonder there are no decent men – they are all marrying “back home” and we are all left with nothing.’
‘I know, I know,’ soothed Noreen, but there were tears in her eyes too. ‘The boys are encouraged by community and family to marry “back home” without worrying what is going to happen to the single women who are here.’ She cleared her throat and tried to lighten the mood. ‘I have a cracking story to add to our list of terrible introductions.’
Sara and I inhaled in mock horror: ‘Another one! Who would believe it!’
Noreen continued, ‘I met a potential match for a coffee last week. Thirty-five years old, VP of a multinational corporation. He brought his mother along as a chaperone.’
‘No!’ gasped Sara and I in unison.
‘And she told me that next time we met I should bring my passport so she could check I was really a British subject …’
‘No!’ we repeated in a higher pitch.
‘… and that I wasn’t out to marry her son for his citizenship or his money.’
With the inclusion of the latest story to add to our anthology of awful experiences, Stage Three was complete. Now it was time in the conversation to turn up the expression of our pain to ‘full’.
4. MAYBE WE ARE THE WRONG KIND OF WOMEN
‘I was cornered by some Aunties at the wedding,’ Noreen divulged. She rolled her eyes in horror. ‘They were in fine form, raising their eyebrows and waggling their fingers energetically at me.’
‘Oh, yes, and what was their wonderful advice to you on this occasion?’ asked Sara with irritation, still emotional from her outburst.
Noreen tried to imitate the rhythm and accent of the Aunties’ voices. ‘“We know that things are changing. We know, my dear, we’re not so old-fashioned like you think. We know that it is good for you young girls to work, but we told you, we told you so many times, to find yourself a man and get married first, then you can do whatever you want. Just start by looking after him and then worry about this independent modern nonsense later. Men like to have independent women as friends, but when it comes to marrying and having a wife, they all want the same thing – a nice traditional woman who will look after them. Men are men, you can’t change that.”’
We all growled, but were we upset because they were wrong or because they were right?
We were following the ‘traditional’ process because we felt it fitted well with our faith as Muslims. But we had rejected the definition of a ‘traditional’ wife when ‘traditional’ was restricted to mean ‘wife-is-second-to-husband’. We wanted to pursue our understanding of a more Islamic marriage relationship, where the minimum obligations were defined, and where love and companionship were the fundamental pillars. Maybe that’s why the process wasn’t working for us, because even though we were playing by the rules, we were not abiding by them in spirit?
The crux of the matter was this: whatever we thought of being a traditional wife, or of falling into the traditional process and being the kind of wives we thought boys and their mothers wanted us to be, we seemed to be the only ones that were suffering. The boys were still getting married. We girls were left single and unloved, wailing to our friends and families.
We thought we had created a strong equilibrium in forging a path through the complications of culture and faith, and through it all we had maintained our relationships with our faith, family and community. By pioneering this balance, were we paying the price for not being traditional enough for ‘traditional’ men (and their mothers) and being too ‘boring and religious’ for ‘modern’ men?
‘The Aunties tell us we’re not traditional enough …’ said Noreen.
‘… and the men who have the qualities we are looking for tell us that we are too traditional,’ added Sara.
Were we (a) wrong about our ideas, or (b) the wrong kind of women?
5. OH MY GOD, WE ARE NEVER GOING TO GET MARRIED
‘There are no decent men out there,’ wept Sara again.
‘And we’re the wrong kind of women,’ I howled once more.
There was only one conclusion, and Noreen was poised to make it: ‘We’re never going to get married.’
Were we – single, educated, twenty-first century (Muslim) women – a time-bomb waiting to explode in the society we lived in? If a whole generation wasn’t married because there were no suitable partners, what would the repercussions be, not just for us, but for our communities?
‘We’re going to die, old, wrinkled and single, cats running round our house,’ added Sara with theatrical drama. ‘We’re never going to find someone and we’ll never, ever get married.’
6. THE PERFECT MAN IS OUT THERE JUST WAITING FOR US
We had indulged in mutual misery, and reached the depths of despair. It felt good to share our pain, but we knew for sure in our hearts that there was someone out there waiting for us. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for us yet and still needed life to polish him up. Or maybe it was us that life needed to polish before we were ready for the One.
It was heartening to know that we were not alone in this situation. A good conversation with friends had turned sadness into solace, and returned us back to hope.
You, not Me
Since that very first prize-winning speech as a child, I had regularly given short lectures about Islam at the mosque, as well as at other social and community events. At the wedding of a close friend I was asked to say a few words during the henna party, which was held a few days before the marriage itself.
The henna party is a women-only event, like an old-fashioned hen night. The bride holds a celebration with her female friends and relatives to prepare her for her married life to come. It is an event where women celebrate their femininity, share the wisdom of their relationships, and when mothers, daughters and aunts bond over the happiness, tears and struggles they all face together as women. Those who are married recall their own weddings and pass on their experiences, those who are not married have blessings and prayers showered on them by everyone else that one day they might be the woman at the centre of attention. It is a gloriously female festival. At the end of the party an artist paints henna onto the hands and feet of the bride to make her look beautiful for her wedding day and new husband.
As this was a women-only event, I picked my most sparkly outfit, had my hair specially done for the occasion and put on a full face of make-up. There was not a sign of headscarf, veil or long cloak. I chose a beautiful crimson skirt that flowed with grace and elegance, which was embroidered all over with little twinkling crystals. It was matched with a small bodice with the same crystal embroidery and a silk shawl that draped glamorously over my arms. I ha
d chosen long jewel-like earrings and a delicate necklace to finish off the look. I felt like a princess. I loved to dress up like this and the beauty was for me and those close to me. I loved looking beautiful: all women do, it is part of being a woman. But in public I wore the headscarf and more modest clothing because I did not want my looks to be what defined me.
In deciding what I would speak about at the party, there was only one subject that seemed appropriate: the Love and Compassion of the Divine. The topic was perfect for a wedding: having a partner was all about love and compassion.
‘Allah always begins any chapter of the Qur’an with the words “In the Name of Allah, the Lovingly Compassionate, the Kind”,’ I began.
‘When you first meet someone that you are attracted to …’ I paused and smiled conspiratorially at the bride. She giggled. ‘… Or when you are making an introduction and hoping that a marriage will come from it …’ I now turned to face the mothers, Aunties and matchmakers who raised their eyebrows. I could see them all wondering if I was about to compliment them or present them with a platitude or say something shocking, ‘… you always begin your introduction with something beautiful. You choose the quality that you think is the best thing about that person and you begin the introduction with that.’
I smiled with joy: ‘The thing that Allah, the Creator and Cherisher, wants us to know most about Him is that He is Rahman, full of Loving Compassion, and Raheem, full of kindness and mercy. These are two of His names that we are most familiar with and which He repeats about himself most often.’
God had many names by which to know Him, and the most common of these were the famous ‘Ninety-Nine Names’. These were 99 ways in which God described His nature so that we could find a connection to the Sublime. There were names like Power, Majesty and Strength, but also names like Gentle, Loving and Generous. Reflecting on the names and their qualities would help to gain an understanding of God. Human beings were made up of all the same qualities, we just needed to uncover them and develop them in ourselves in order to become better individuals and get closer to the Divine.
It was time to come back from the sphere of the sublime and think about the wonderful romantic wedding in front of us. ‘Getting married is the perfect time to learn about kindness and compassion. These qualities are the groundwork for the relationship and reflect the love between husband and wife.’
During the rest of the party, one of the wedding guests approached me. ‘You stood up and you looked so pretty and so fashionable that we thought, “What is this modern girl all dressed up, no headscarf, all trendy, going to be able to tell us about religion?”’
I bit my tongue at the implicit idea that fashion and faith were mutually exclusive. She was not the only one who made that assumption. Those who were not familiar with Muslims and Islamic teachings often thought the same as her but in reverse: that wearing a headscarf meant a high quotient of zealousness and an inability to be fashionable.
I let her continue. ‘But not only did you look beautiful, you also spoke beautifully. You touched our hearts and we were very, very moved.’
I had overturned a mistaken assumption.
Shelina, One. Stereotypes, Nil.
The Prophet Muhammad was born in 570 AD in the city of Mecca, which lay at the heart of the Arabian Peninsula. The Arabs were a tribal people who took great pride in their ethnicity and looked down on those of non-Arab origin. Muhammad was born into one of the leading tribes called the Quraysh. It seems that he did not share the sense of self-superiority of his fellow Arabs, but encouraged the tribes to be united. His family had for generations looked after Kaba, which had been built by the Prophet Abraham in Mecca as a house dedicated to the One God but which now contained hundreds of idols worshipped by the pagan Arabs. They thought themselves to be highly knowledgeable and advanced for their time, and were particularly proud of the beauty and eloquence of their poetry, some of which still survives today. Alongside the polytheistic Arabs lived tribes of Jews and Christians. Some of them believed that their scriptures indicated that a prophet would come soon.
Muhammad’s father died before he was born and his mother died when he was only six years old. He went to live with his grandfather, who was considered one of the statesmen of the tribe, but he passed away very soon. He then went to live with his uncle, where he grew into a man who was noted for being of exceptional manners and excellent character.
Mecca was at the crossroads of several trade routes, so, like many people who lived in that region, Muhammad became a merchant, travelling to buy and sell goods. Since he had an excellent reputation as a hard and honest worker, he was employed by a wealthy business woman named Khadijah, who was known as the Queen of the Arabs because of her business empire and possibly because of her beauty, too. She was a smart, sophisticated woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. When I read stories about her, I admire not only her dignity and grace, but also her determination and self-confidence.
She was impressed by Muhammad’s commercial acumen, and the profits he brought back to her business after leading trade caravans to other cities on her behalf. She was more impressed with the honesty and dignity with which he carried out his affairs. She knew that Muhammad had a reputation as sadiq, truthful, and ameen, trustworthy. She saw in him a worthy companion and partner, and made enquiries about him with regards to the possibility of marriage. She asked a relative if he would take her idea of marriage to Muhammad to see what he thought of it. Muhammad was delighted and accepted, also seeing in her a worthy companion and partner for himself. The marriage, by all accounts, was extremely strong and intimate, and even years after her death, Muhammad said that she was always the one for him and he would never forget her. No-one could ever take her place.
The story of Khadijah’s proposal and subsequent marriage to Muhammad was often recounted as part of the discussion that Muslims had about the rights of women in Islam. The subject of women, their status and their treatment was always a hot topic. It was often raised by the media and society around us, as well as by Muslim women themselves. How could we see the physical abuse, suffering and torture of Muslim women around the world and not ask why this was happening? We didn’t believe it to be part of our faith, but how should we stop it? The news would present images of women in black cloaks and veils and ask, ‘Are these women oppressed?’ To understand our heritage and the principles which underpinned our story as people of faith, we looked back at the individuals like Muhammad and Khadijah who had laid the foundations of Islam. You have to know where you’ve come from to know where you are going.
Khadijah was a woman who found a man she believed would make her ideal partner. It seemed that a similar process of arranging a marriage existed then as it did now – it had stood the test of time. But instead of waiting for the man to propose, Khadijah took the first step to approach this potential husband and sent a proposal to him herself through an envoy. This is hailed as very liberated and empowered by many Muslim men and women. I agreed with them, but I found myself asking, if this is such a wonderful thing for a Muslim woman to do, why is it considered so shameful for the girl’s family to approach the boy’s family to talk about marriage?
There was a twist to this story: Khadijah was much older than Muhammad, perhaps up to fifteen years his senior. Again, this was held up in discussions about Muslim women to show that marriage was about finding the right qualities in a person rather than securing a good match on paper. I found myself wondering why, if the relationship at the very heart of the birth of Islam had a woman who was older than Muhammad, was there an unspoken yet rigid rule that the girl should be younger than the boy?
It was enough to get me thinking about the discrepancies between what people say is Islam and what Islam actually is.
Muslims like to dwell on how Islam gave rights to women long before similar rights were granted in other parts of the world, including Europe. Muhammad explained that women were equal in value to men, and that the best of men and women were
those who worked hard to be good human beings. In this, he said clearly, men and women were no different. He laid out laws which gave rights to women to own their own property and not be forced to hand it over to their husbands. Women were not items of property that belonged to men, nor did their own property belong to men. European laws only accorded women this status hundreds, in some cases a thousand, years later.
Even though Islam had been pioneering in its time, radical, you could say, it had buried that vision under layers and layers of dense culture over time.
Muslims should just be honest with themselves, I reflected.
It would be simpler to admit that the fundamental idea of equality had got blurred and to reignite it than to defend as Islamic those ideas that had crept in from culture over time. I found it worse still that some Muslims tried to stop Muslim women from raising these questions by calling them sell-outs, and westernised feminists, as though these were dirty words.
But if we can see discrepancies, then it is our duty as thinking human beings to challenge them, I thought.
The intimate bond between Khadijah and Muhammad lay at the heart of the new Muslim community, which slowly attracted people to the new ideas that Muhammad brought. Alongside his key message that there was no god but God, one unified single Divine being, he said something that was so simple that it was profoundly shattering: all human beings, regardless of age, gender, creed, race or colour, are totally equal. It was a remarkable statement for a society which was hierarchical and racist, and oppressed women. One of Muhammad’s closest friends was Bilal, a black African slave who was tortured for his beliefs as a Muslim. Another was Salman, who was originally from Persia. Both were taunted for their non-Arab origins, and looked down upon. Muhammad did not accept this racism and appointed Bilal to a position of status as the muezzin, the one who announces the call to prayer. He also gave Salman the title ‘the pure one’ because he was so spiritual.
Love in a Headscarf Page 13
