Guilt tripping, shame and honesty!

Some people have had at me for being "shameless". Shamelessness is usually a derogatory term used to guilt people into silence. I don't understand this concept. I don't understand living in regrets: life happens, we make mistakes, we ask for forgiveness and we move on -- hopefully with the intention not to repeat our mistakes.

I am not going to say that I have absolutely no regret and I am not particularly proud of some moments of my life. However, there is no use to denying that it is, indeed, my life and while it was not all glitter and glory, I am proud of where I am today. I know there is always means for me to get better, but I will not deny the past. Because ignoring the past only further ensures that history will repeat itself. I wholeheartedly believe this. 

Denying the existence of our faults allows us to play judge to those around us. Whereas "coming clean" about your flaws, your faults, your shortcomings, to others, keeps you accountable. I came across a beautiful line recently which read "I prefer to be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite". Someone took great offence to this line -- probably because of a previous conversation where I had tagged this person as the latter -- and instead tagged me as "shameless" for my past sins. It's annoying.

Let me enlighten you further on my theory on honest sinning: I commit sin, we all do. We are flawed in our humanity. That's a "duh" thing for me. I could live everyday without telling anyone of the sins I have committed and my repentance of those sins. Perhaps it would make me appear as a better Muslim, a better woman, a better person... but it wouldn't make it so. Moreover, if I lied about my sins, I would feel the guilt of not only committing the sin, but committing an extra sin to cover it up. 

I feel more guilty about covering up my sins, than I do about my sins themselves. The truth is, no one is deceived by lies except yourself. You get to live an existence of more pious precondition but your soul is still just as guilty of the sins you commit. The way I see it, I can tell people of the sins I committed and the lessons I learned, in the hopes that my experience will suffice to steer them away from repeating my mistakes. Don't try to guilt-trip me into being a "good little Muslim" who doesn't speak of her shortcomings, don't even try to make my ashamed of my past! God and I have had this discussion before, and while He did not respond, I've already settled with him: asked repentance and for the strength not to recede.

Muslim men make my hijab haraam

I've talked a few posts back about the experience of being female and being subjected to hoot, hollers and howling: it bothers me... a lot! More recently, a friend discussed her desire to stop wearing hijab. Her reason? She has received more unsolicited comments on her appearance from men, in the form of cat calling and overt sexual interest, since wearing it than she has without.

Some people were quick to blame her attitude, stating that she must be giving signs, opening herself up to it; others told her that hijab did in fact bring more attention on her than would not wearing it. I hate these attitudes: this victim-blaming crap that makes women responsible for every bit of sexual attention she gets.

No, her attitude is NOT the problem, neither is her scarf. The problem is that the types of guys who notice her and other hijabis don't know how to live! In fact, a majority of those who notice hijabis are MUSLIM MEN! That's what drives me insane!

Let us not forget that modesty was first demanded of men before it was demanded of women and that similar obligations of dress are "required" of men (for those believe hijab is a requirement): men should wear shirts to their elbows, pants below their knees and their heads should be covered. That's right, your sexist bs that I'm "not wearing hijab properly" because you can see my neck doesn't stand next to the fact that I can see your elbows!!!

Dear Muslim men,

Stop gawking at us. Stop making comments at how we do or do not wear proper hijab. Your "MashaAllah"s are gross and univited. It is NOT our responsibility to look unsexy it is YOUR responsibility to LOOK AWAY!. 

And sisters, please stop denying the systemic patriarchy taught to our men. They are already given the better prayer spaces, the better food, the better rights, the upper hand in both employments and search for a mate, more leeway when acting outside the fold of Islam -- please, we don't need you to make excuses for them on top of it.

There are some wonderful brothers out there, and yes, it's unfair that they are judged on the same standard as the low-lives who call themselves Muslim brothers but in fact are just olive-skinned skirt chasers. There is NOTHING WRONG in brothers having to prove that they are decent men. Wouldn't the entire world be a better place if we held everyone to a higher standard?!

You know you don't have to do that!

Peace and blessings.

So Ramadan is right around the corner and I am, I must admit, dreading the long hours of fasting in the warmest weather of the year. Ramadan in Canada will be taking place during some of the longest days of summer averaging 17.5 hours between dawn and dusk. Yet, Ramadan was --and is-- a large contributing factor to why I am a Muslim. After my first 30-day fast, I was in awe of  the insight it gave me on my body, on the greatness of God's power of creation, and God's ability to instill a will into my soul that is greater than the needs, even the biological ones. 

So I complain, but only in the same sense that one complains about having to go to work, or to get up in the morning: I complain about something I know I must do --if not a social/religious obligation, at least a personal one. Not that it is always pleasant, just like my headscarf is not always pleasant: sure it is warm and sometimes muggy and can be limiting in certain respects, but then there's is this greater sense of self-respect, of self-love and pride which I feel while wearing it which completely outweighs even the worst aspects of it.

What troubles me, is the comments I receive of "well, you know you don't have to do it". Honestly, it bothers me as much if not more than it bothers me when I receive it as an answer to my complaining about working out. The sharing of the complaint in the first place means a certain bond between myself and the person I am speaking to, at least a superficial one. An answer so critical and cynical tells me that the person with whom I am dialogue does not understand me, does not understand my purpose, the purpose of my actions. More importantly, it refers to a lack of consideration and a lack of respect for what I am doing.

I have free will over everything I do, just like anyone else. If you are going to be technical, no one "has" to work, no one "has" to follow the law, no one "has" to wake up in the morning, eat, sleep, take care of each other... but we do --and not always because we want to. Sometimes, we do things because they make us a better human being, because it makes the world around us a better place, because it allows us greater freedom in achieving greater wants in life. For example, many of us will do some unpleasant chores in order to feel comfortable in our homes --not because we like the cleaning process. 

A better, kinder question, when lacking the understanding of a subject is not to state matter-of-fact-ly that "I do not *have* to do it" but perhaps to ask why I do. So why do I fast 30 days, from sunrise to sunset, making myself quite uncomfortable in the process? Because there is comfort in this discomfort: a comfort which lasts much longer than 30 days and much longer than 17.5 hrs/day: the comfort that I can control my body, my needs, my wants, and I can achieve whatever I put my mind to. The comfort of knowing that I *will* be eating 3 times a day for the remaining 335 days of the year. The comfort of knowing that I have been giving by God the ability to feel this comfort as part of a test of will and not through circumstances which do not allow otherwise.

I am blessed to have the opportunity to fast Ramadan, and while I might whine and complain, the successes I will achieve internally will far outweigh the external discomfort. So yes, I "need" to fast. I need to fast because nothing else has ever brought me this close to peace -- and even if nothing happens to me if I don't... nothing happens to me if I don't... and that in itself is the gravest of all the consequences!

Les tomates mûres | Ripe tomatoes

Je n'ai jamais été une enfant difficile à nourrir  Comme la plupart, j'ai essayer d'éviter les croûtes de pain à une certaine époque et je ne suis toujours pas amatrice de macaroni au fromage -- que voulez-vous je suis une enfant bizarre. Mes aliments favoris ont toujours été et seront toujours les légumes et les fruits, de préférence frais du jardin, sauf les tomates. Je haie les tomates. Ou devrais-je dire j'haissais les tomates?

Ma grand-mère avait l'habitude de faire pousser des tomates dans des pots sur son balcon. Ses tomates, elle nous les apportaient lors de visites. J'aime énormément ma grand-mêre et ferais n'importe quoi pour la rendre heureuse. Alors quand elle me suggérait de manger deux tranches de tomate à chaque repas, je le faisais, à contre coeur, mais je les mangeais. À une certaine époque, je me souviens ne pas vouloir la visite de ma grand-mère aux heures des repas car il s'agirait sans doute d'un autre repas à saveur de tomate. Ma mère s'est aussi ajouté au réjouissance, me rappelant à chaque repas que ma grand-mère demandait que je mange deux tranches de tomates par repas.

Tant bien que mal, au fil des années, plusieurs centaines de repas plus tard, mon goût pour les tomates s'est développé. Je ne déteste plus les tomates, je n'en mange plus à chaque repas, mais je ne les détestes plus.

À un repas familiale il y a quelques années, ma grand-mère, ma mère et moi nous sommes retrouver autour d'une merveilleuse tablée. Bien sûr, des tomates mûres y furent servis. Lorsque mon assiette fût vidée de celles-ci, je demandai une deuxième ration de tomates juteuses. Ma grand-mère répondit aussitôt: "Ah oui, manges-en des tomates! Je hais les tomates!"


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I've never been a picky eater as a child. Like most, I tried to avoid bread crust for a time and I'm still not a fan of macaroni and cheese -- I know, I'm a strange child. My favourite food growing up were fruits and vegetables, garden fresh if possible... except for tomatoes. I hate tomatoes. Or should I say, I hated tomatoes?

My grand-mother had the habit of growing potted tomatoes on her balcony. She would bring her tomatoes to us every visit. I love my grand-mother very dearly and I would do anything to please her. Thus, when she would advise that I should eat two slices of tomatoes per meal, I would reluctantly do so. I even remember, at one point, hoping my grand-mother would avoid visiting us at meal hours because I knew she would bring some of her ripe tomatoes along. My mother joined in by reminding me, when my grand-mother was not around, that I was to eat two slices of tomatoes per meal as per her directions.

Through the years, I eventually grew out of hating tomatoes. I don't eat them with every meal but I don't dislike them.

At a family dinner, a couple of years ago, my grand-mother, my mother and myself found ourselves before a beautiful spread. Of course, amongst this spread were beautiful, juicy, ripe tomatoes. When I cleared my plate, I asked my grand-mother for seconds on the fresh vegetables, including tomatoes. My grand-mother quickly said: "oh yes, please, eat as many tomatoes as you would like. I hate those things!"

Ain't No Hollaback Girl!

The sexual harrassment of females at the hand of males is nothing new and far too often, women are told that they are to the ones with the ability to control the harassment. Even worst, women are recurrently told that they should take harassment as a form of flatery. That is unnacceptable!

Would you accept that your mother, sister or wife be harassed, touched our catcalled in your presence? Of course not! Then why is it implied that we should take it as a compliment when the comments are turned towards us?

Luckily, the Qu'ran and multiple hadiths speak of modesty, of lowering one's gaze and keeping from commenting on each other's allure. Unfortunately, cultural subjugaison and maintenance of the male status quo puts once again the burden of modesty on women and far too often, the men disregard the similar verses that apply to them.

I've been donning hijab as a form of modesty and I've simply had it with pseudo-Alpha males who in a show of machismo to their dimwit buddies decide that yellow, hollering or cat calling will win them any form of favour or amusement on my part. If you are a Muslim man reading this, be warned: the next man to howl or holler at me, will get a very vulgar piece of my mind!

Keep your hands, eyes and thoughts to yourself! Astagfurillah!

The Power of a Smile

Prophet Mohammed (peace and blessings upon him) very famously said that charity could be done in a number of manners, including bearing a smile to a stranger. Smiles have mysterious effects on people.
Even from the lips of a stranger, a smile can change a day. As I call it, a smile is the curve that makes the world go round.

Because smiles are contagious! And I'm not just talking about the social construct that smiles must be returned but also about the fact that happiness spreads from one person to the next like wildfire.

In this world where too many tears are shed, a smile brings hope of better days, of a better world. A world that spreads love instead of hate, compassion instead of fear, charity instead of spite.

Does this sound oddly idealistic? Yet it is the power of a smile I encountered on my way to work from a stranger, a much older woman with eyes full of kindness and a slight smile that carried a deep love of others.

As Muslims, we are told of this charity, and too many times we forget to do so. We keep our smiles the way keep our money in the face of those in needs. But why? A smile does not cost a thing, it doesn't remove from the one who gives and adds to the one who receives. It cannot be taken away and it can multiply upon sharing. A smile is the simplest of charity. Do not be too selfish to forget your Creator and give, in His name, the simplest of charities.

A smile can brighten up a day, aleviate pains and turn a week around, so I ask you: have *YOU* donated today?

On rights and wrong...

Ever since I've begin wearing a head scarf, I've been receiving the looks of friends and strangers alike: looks of admiration, looks of curiosity, looks of reprisals. Those looks are, in most situation, reinforcement of the purpose of my hijab. I feel protected and empowered, but, more importantly, I feel closer to God than ever.

The comments I receive also range from extremely positive to negative. Some, however, are meant as neutral and they can cause me the most pause. One of those comments came through a conversation about my scarf: "what about our right to feel safe?" The reality is that my headscarf is not a weapon or a threat, it does not propagate hate speech or discrimination of any kind.  What it does threaten is the ability for others to see and judge my body.

In North American societies in this age of information, people seem to assume they have a right to all information including information about my body and hair: it's shape, look, feel...

How is that a right? If anything, it should be my right to allow that information to go out! As a woman, I have seen men appropriate "rights" to my body: At bars, when they consider my dancing in public an invitation to touch, on the street when they consider my wearing heels to be an invitation to cat-call, on the internet, where having a picture of myself is an invitation for men I do not know to befriend me or at the very least comment on my appearance. If I refute their rights by pushing them away, telling them to back of refuting their "rights" in any way, I receive comments and get name called. Names that are reseved for women when they refuse to provide "information" which men expect to be their "right".

Everytime I put on my veil, I am reminded that information about my body is my right to disclose or to cover. For now, I choose to cover, but if one day, I chose to disclose my body, it would by no means change ownership to that right.

I respect that you may not feel safe when you see a Muslim in a hijab, but if you do perhaps it would be better to look at your own islamophobia rather than at my right to cover my hair and body because the only "right" you have is over your own actions and emotions!