Impossibly Blue Skies

Women

2009-06-22T01:53:00.004-04:00

I miss women. "Help peel the potatoes" neighbor downstairs women, unapologetic artist women, book club women, coffeeshop women, women with children conveniently close in age to mine, women with whom I have nothing in common but with whom I get along fabulously anyway, talking 'bout the deep and the shallow equally women, activist women, going shopping women, Friday night women, Tuesday afternoon women, bad joke women, and familiar women at large.

Children are a blessing but also a binding. Moving to a new town with such young children to demand my time has definitely scaled down my access to planting the seeds of a whole new social circle. You know you just need to get out more when the thought crosses your mind to hit up matrimonial sites for the purposes of tracking down local friends. (I'm not even really sure how that conversation would go. Me: "Hey sister, I know you're busy looking for the love of your life and all, but if I might interrupt for a second to ask if you'd be interested in a girl's night out?" She: *frantically clicking the delete/block/ignore buttons to get rid of the creepy woman who may or may not be hitting on her*)

Yeah. Definitely need a Plan B.

Morgantown

2009-06-15T23:54:00.006-04:00

I'm sorry to have reverted to running such a dead blog; some personal matters have been keeping me from giving a lot of time to anything that requires silly little things like actual thought. I know my whole three readers are heartbroken. ;-)

At any rate ... I just watched The Mosque in Morgantown. And I didn't hate it. Perhaps I didn't hate it because I so anticipated hating it. I think for internal viewing, for viewing by the American Muslim community, the film actually did a fairly good job of illustrating and clarifying what the situation was, in practice, in intentions, and in the mind of Ms. Nomani herself. Internally it did not very well portray her as a martyr for her cause or even as being correct in her approach, but it also did not attempt to simply wash away the fact of the discomfort and disputes that do arise in mosque memberships. Not so much propaganda and not so much proselytizing, or at least not of the believable kind. As films go I can respect that. Though I do question here, now, years afterwards, nationally debuting a film that in effect continues the attempt to make a national spectacle of one community.

Externally ... I well understand that it is likely to read differently. But to be blunt I'm finding it hard to care. To put it in some context: I have recently engaged in a discussion about Asra Nomani with a Christian woman who read an article by her or heard an interview with her or something along those lines. What the conversation has caused, for me, is a renewed realization of the difficulty that exists in discussing Islamic matters, particularly sensitive matters, in their own context with people who exist outside of that context. An American Christian feminist can not realistically help but to view a woman holding a protest in front of a mosque, a single mother who feels disrespected, through anything but the lenses of American protest movements, Christian texts and their related disputes, the Christian American political scene and it's own cliches, and 20th century sexual politics -- through every lens but those of Muslims, Muslim feminists, or Islamic texts, ethics, or methods. (That the filmmaker herself does so well underlines the point.) That such a viewer will view things in a manner that doesn't necessarily apply is more a given than it is gamble. But to the extent that such a viewer is not in a position to attempt to force changes in line with their own perceptions (say, for example, in the case of using the plights of many Afghan women in the litany of excuses for leveling those same women's communities) their opinions are only as relevant as we care to make them. And, frankly, I doubt very many people sitting down to watch a little PBS on a Monday night are in just such a position.

(As an aside, I thought the AltMuslimah article on and the Muslimah Media Watch review of the film were both fair in their criticism.)

Though I may not have hated it, I still have higher hopes for New Muslim Cool next week. I'm missing films about Muslims that kind of fill the reality space that exists between dawah documentaries and things like The Yacoubian Building or Confessions of a Gambler. Piety with reality but not centered so heavily on divisive controversy or only personal failings ... is that really so much to ask from just a movie?

Daily Not-Exactly-Reads

2009-03-06T21:55:00.002-05:00

Since I'm already getting remiss in actually reading/listening to something daily, gratuitous pictures of my kids instead:

Thinking about a great many of the modern 'simplicity' movements ...

2009-03-02T11:43:00.002-05:00

Can asceticism at times itself be hedonistic?

First Things First

2009-03-01T18:32:00.006-05:00

Learn Qur'an first. Learn it well. Learn its language. If Arabic is your tongue, still learn its language. Memorize from it -- juz 'amma, at least. Surat al-Kahf. Ayat al-Kursi. Amanar-rasul. More if you can -- Ya Seen, al-Mulk, ar-Rahman. Chapters and verses about which the particular blessings were recorded by the companions and our scholars, radhi allahu anhum. Get ambitious -- take on al-Baqarah. Take what you like. Start from the beginning. Work backwards. Choose randomly. Just learn Qur'an first.

Read tafsir. Ask questions regarding that which you do not know, do not understand, and regarding that with which you do not agree. Read Ibn Kathir -- we've all seen it online. Read it. Read the Maariful Quran -- download the PDFs if the price is high. Google the Tafhim al-Quran, Tafsir al-Jalalayn, and read, all free.

Perfect your prayers, insha'allah. Forget that you've known how to pray for almost as long as you've known how to walk and to speak; read a guidebook, or three. Remind yourself. Pray behind an imam when you are able. Learn supplications, and to evoke them from the heart.

Learn the seerah. Learn love for the prophet, salallahu alayhi wa salam. Learn a love that is not lipservice.

Then comes the works of legalists and philosophers.

Then comes the back and forth between al-Ghazali and ibn Rushd, if you please, or back copies of al-Manar and video clips of the Doha debates, if you prefer. Increasingly obscure translations or totally contemporary transcripts.

Then comes navigating the merits and pitfalls of all the possible -isms.

Then comes disagreements regarding the translation of this word or that -- discussions of roots, contexts, classical versus modern meanings, constrictions, restrictions, abrogation, and the full scope of metaphor.

Then comes the politics, reformations, applications, allegiances, arguments, dueling rulings, picking the locks on ijtihad, dawah, outreach, identity politics, criticisms, community actions, activisms, rebuttals, refusals and refuseniks, and all the boycotts, blog warriors, masjid malcontents, all around spiritual masochism you can handle.

But however tempting those things may be ...

Learn. Qur'an. First.

Or you'll be talking out your ear.

(A kind reminder to myself as much as anyone.)

Daily Reads : Five

2009-02-26T00:13:00.002-05:00

He said, 'He says she shall be a cow not broken, not subdued for labour, that is, to plough the earth, churning its soil for sowing (tuthir al-ard: the clause describes the word dhalul, and constitutes part of the negation); or to water the tillage, that is, the land prepared for sowing; one safe, from faults and the effects of toil; with no blemish, of a colour other than her own, on her'. They said, 'Now you have brought the truth', that is, [now] you have explained it clearly; they thus sought it out and found it with a boy very dutiful towards his mother, and they eventually purchased it for the equivalent of its weight in gold; and so they sacrificed her, even though they very nearly did not, on account of its excessive cost. In a hadith [it is stated that], 'Had they sacrificed any cow, it would have sufficed them, but they made it difficult for themselves and so God made it difficult for them'.

- Tafsir al-Jalalayn on al-Baqarah 71.

The start of something ...

2009-02-26T00:09:00.000-05:00

I have a house. The neighbors southward are bedouins -- the uncinematic kind, the unromantic kind. The women do not peer out from beneath headdresses dripping spangles or through burnished, bird-like masks like elders of Oman; the children do not appear with photo-ready aged and wistful eyes. They are our landlords, of sorts. They sold the land, years ago, are selling it still, profiting prettily from the urban congestion spreading out from Alexandria like progress, to some, or disease, to others ... but still they consider it theirs. Land lords. Were Zeus to sell Olympus for a pocketful of coins would he too have ceded his throne upon it?

The neighbors northward are moderns. I know not what else to call them. Or maybe throwbacks, Egyptians circa 70s, Egyptians who got on nicely before something from the Iranian Revolution took to the air and spread, too, like the city. Before young women traveled together in flocks, costumed tip to toe as tropical birds. Before "insha'allah" popularly dotted sentences like as though it was its own grammatical advancement: a punctuation of piety. Insha'allah.

I have a house which evenly splits the distance between highway and sea, set back within the twisting logic of unpaved packed sand roads. Vacant vacation houses, urban ex-pats, forcibly settled nomads, elders who couldn't afford better from before the land values rose, and small-time dreamers slowly aging out of "young" together fill the landscape of sand, courtyards, and concrete. We're an odd lot. Cars of French import fame part seas of children herding goats in the streets. Satellite dishes overlook orange trees and trash heaps.

The house itself is two floors stacked upon a foundation meant to support as many as eight: a decision resulting from the dreams of a matriarch, her visions of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren coming together in one vertical unit having manifested itself in a foundation costing more than the neighboring houses combined. Two floors marked by jutting balconies and arched windows, interlocking clay tile crescents lining sloping roofs, stucco and bricks, wrought iron geometry. Here I dreamed of gardens, once. Grapevines over the side patio, nevermind the bother of dropping fruits fermenting under foot. Low lavender hedges lining walkways and lending order to a mix of tomatoes and tomatillos, espalier citrus, basils and beanpoles. Obligatory but still beautiful bougainvillea spilling out over the entrance gate. I drew plant maps on paper, traced outlines in the sand with sticks: raised beds here, walking paths there. The matriarch dreamed bigger; I was still young for that.

Daily Reads : Four

2009-02-14T15:28:00.004-05:00

Remember how when he was in the wife's -- in the house of Umm Salamah, radhi allahu anha, and he said, "what do you have for us today?" And she said, "Only vinegar." And he said, "The best nutrition is vinegar." And she brought him some broken bread, and he had it with the vinegar. And when he, salallahu alayhi wa salam, said, "the best nutrition is vinegar" ... you know that's not tech- ... well, we can't say that it's not correct. So we can't even say that sentence. But it's, as commentary, our masters, radhi allah anhum, said, "it is understood" -- see how they're eloquent, radhi allahu anhum -- they say, "it is understood that vinegar is not the best of nutrition." See? They didn't say it, even though that's not true, because that's not good adab with the messenger, salallahu alayhi wa salam. But they said, "Though it is known that vinegar is not the best nutrition, out of kindness and mercy he, salallahu alayhi wa salam, said, in other words, whatever it is that you have will be wonderful. It is the best nutrition -- whatever it is in your house, it is the best nutrition for us."

- Shaykh Abdullah Adhami, in his lecture on love for the Prophet, salallahu alayhi wa salam.

Daily Reads : Three

2009-02-10T16:25:00.004-05:00

There was the method of kneeling,
a fine method, if you lived in a country
where stones were smooth.
The women dreamed wistfully of bleached courtyards,
hidden corners where knee fit rock.
Their prayers were weathered rib bones,
small calcium words uttered in sequence,
as if this shedding of syllables could somehow
fuse them to the sky.

There were the men who had been shepherds so long
they walked like sheep.
Under the olive trees, they raised their arms --
Hear us! We have pain on earth!
We have so much pain there is no place to store it!
But the olives bobbed peacefully
in fragrant buckets of vinegar and thyme.
At night the men ate heartily, flat bread and white cheese,
and were happy in spite of the pain,
because there was also happiness.

Some prized the pilgrimage,
wrapping themselves in new white linen
to ride buses across miles of vacant sand.
When they arrived at Mecca
they would circle the holy places,
on foot, many times,
they would bend to kiss the earth
and return, their lean faces housing mystery.

While for certain cousins and grandmothers
the pilgrimage occurred daily,
lugging water from the spring
or balancing the baskets of grapes.
These were the ones present at births,
humming quietly to perspiring mothers.
The ones stitching intricate needlework into children's dresses,
forgetting how easily children soil clothes.

There were those who didn't care about praying.
The young ones. The ones who had been to America.
They told the old ones, you are wasting your time.
Time? -- The old ones prayed for the young ones.
They prayed for Allah to mend their brains,
for the twig, the round moon,
to speak suddenly in a commanding tone.

And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,
and was famous for his laugh.

- Different Ways to Pray, by Naomi Shihab Nye.

Daily Reads : Two

2009-02-09T00:23:00.002-05:00

"His family life seems to have been happy, based on sincerity, respect, and love. Farid al-Din al-Attar relates that his children, asked how they knew if he were angry, replied that he used to treat them, on such occasions, with an affection which was even stronger than usual, but at the same time refrained from food and drink."

- From Dr. Muhammad Ibraheem Al-Geyoushi's "Al-Hakim al-Tirmidhi: His Works and Thoughts," read in a post at Akram's Razor.

"Anger is like a ball of fire, but if you swallow it it's sweeter than honey."

- Sayyiduna 'Ali, radhi allahu anhu, clipped from a post by Salikah.

In the dark of the moon, in flying snow, in the dead of winter,
war spreading, families dying, the world in danger,
I walk the rocky hillside, sowing clover.

- "February 2, 1968," a poem by Wendell Berry.

Touching Home

2009-02-08T18:43:00.003-05:00

Mohammed is many things. Like most of the men I know, he is an engineer. He is a husband, and a brand new father to a sweet baby boy. He is an immigrant. He is quite the arbiter, a joke and story teller, and -- cheesy though it sounds -- one of the very few people I've ever met about whom the first thing to strike me was a kind of purity and honesty which seems just an easy part of their countenance. How, deserving or not, he just looks trustworthy. Not an easy look to carry off, these days. Mohammed is a good man, just trying to get by as we are all trying to get by, taking care of his family, aiming at being right by Allah subhana wa ta'ala. Sweetly and naively, although that's another story, he arranged my sister's engagement. Generously he lent my late spouse and I his apartment when we were short on simply having a home. He was gravely concerned with seeing to it that a debt he owed my first husband was repaid to me -- all of about twenty pounds worth, as it turned out. He's in the big things when there are big things, but when it's only details he still tries to set them right.

He is also facing arrest.

No one knows exactly why; his own attorney knows not even why. Perhaps he attended the wrong masjid. Talked to the wrong people. In the spirit of the new McCarthyism, maybe he's friends with a man who knew a guy who donated to the charity which once put food into the mouth of one of the world's ten million most wanted. It's hard to put a finger on these things when no official will say.

What we know is just this: his computer housed pictures of both his friends making the rounds of New York tourist traps, and conscripted relatives, in uniform, holding weapons. Apparently this warrants further investigation.

I admit the "war on terrorism" has never really touched home before. It still hasn't, not really -- this is not my husband, not my father, not my son, not myself. But seeing the distant outer ripples of anger and humiliation come into my home from this ... I can not even begin to imagine the feeling at the epicenter. Or the feeling when things such as this take a turn worse, as they are so prone to do.

Wa la hawla wa la quwwata illa billah. Audhu billah, audhu billah, audhu billahi min ash-shaytan ir-rajeem. Not to mention, apparently, from Great Britain.

Daily Reads : One

2009-02-07T03:11:00.005-05:00

Umm Salama says that the Prophet Muhammad, salallahu alayhi wa salam, died on Monday; that he was buried on Wednesday. And she says, "The death of the Prophet Muhammad, salallahu alayhi wa salam, had not hit us until Wednesday night. After Isha, we started to hear the sound of shovels." Subhanallah, imagine if you are in the shoes of Umar, if you are in the shoes of Abu Bakr, or Aisha, or Fatima, or Zaynab, or Khalid bin Walid, and you're hearing the sounds of the shovels which are digging the grave of the Prophet, salallahu alayhi wa salam. Can you fathom this? Can you fathom how much they must have been overcome? Umm Salama says that "when we heard the sound of these shovels, we began to weep," meaning the household of the Prophet Muhammad, salallahu alayhi wa salam. "We began to mourn, we began to cry, we began to wail," and then she says the entire city of Medina began to shake with tears at the loss of the Prophet, salallahu alayhi wa salam. The city itself, the community, is shaking out of the loss of rasulullahi, salallahu alayhi wa salam -- the loss of al-habib, alayhi salatu wa salam.

Now, the Prophet Muhammad, salallahu alayhi wa salam, was buried after salatu Isha on Wednesday night. That means the first prayer that came after the burial of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, would have been salatu Fajr. Umm Salama says that Bilal, radhi allahu anhu, he arose to give the call of prayer, and when he came to one part in the adhan the entire city of Medina began to weep again. She said, "We went into convulsions from crying at the loss of al-habib, salallahu alayhi wa salam."

Imagine now, brother and sister, imagine that you're there on that night, that fajr, sitting in the place of Umm Salama, or Umar, and suddenly you hear Bilal, who had that sweet voice, say:

"Ashadu anna Muhammad ar-rasulullah ... ashadu anna Muhammad ar-rasulullah ..."

- Suhaib Webb, from The Prophetic Legacy.

Upon hearing, "I can not believe a loving god would mean for this" for the thousandth time:

2009-02-05T17:58:00.004-05:00

Have you seen him who has taken his whims and desires to be his god? ... 25:43

Change

2009-01-22T02:10:00.007-05:00

There are changes, and with changes somehow comes the desire for change. Change has an element of drug about it -- it makes one restless, desirous of more. To a point.

Last night I was filling out a government form requiring a list of the places I've lived for the past five years. The form provided me five lines; I needed to attach a second page. Farmlands, small towns, and urban centers, spanning both states and nations, cultures and languages, a blur when I think about it, crammed into five years time and collapsed into orderly government-issue fill-in boxes. Weddings and funerals, births, and enough movement to bleed off onto that second page ...

There does come a time when change is change enough. When the restlessness tapers off, when the urge for movement is satiated, and when simple stability is sought. When I was younger, like many of the very young, I thought this was a symptom of a defeated spirit. I did not yet know that spirits don't naturally require an ongoing diet of excitement and exoticism to be well nourished. I did not yet know how much better the soul is fed through deeply grounded roots than by the motions of the wind.

The Qur'an tells us that if Allah subhana wa ta'ala knows of a bit of good within our hearts we may be granted greater than whatever all is taken from us. That is interpretive, of course; the context of revelation was not broad assurances to mankind but rather a specific instance having to do with gold lost in the cause of ransoming prisoners. Still, as believers navigate the waters of restricting to and opening beyond the context-specificity of revelation, there is obviously something heartening to be found in leaving this ayah rest in more open hands. There is hope in it for all who suffer losses, and all will suffer losses. "You will be tested in your wealth and in yourselves ..."

I planted myself in a small apartment on the second floor of a clapboard building with fruit trees in the backyard and an American flag jutting out from over the front door. Here I wake and sleep, heat bread and tea, scrub floors, read books, waste time online, feed my babies, and otherwise pass the days in the peace of the ordinary. Insha'allah in five years time a similar form might find from me but one address filling a single line.

I've not been so tested, not really. And I have been given greater than my losses many times already. People like to tell me I am strong, but I have only had the strength to bear endlessly receiving that for which I have asked -- excitement when I dreamed of it, status and security when I coveted it, stability when I prayed from need of it. To date my test has only been my bounty, like that rich men as well as poor are tested by their wealth.

I planted myself here, setting roots into this non-exciting, non-exotic, and all around just perfect little east coast American town. I married again, a warrior:

The Prophet said, "The one who looks after and works for a widow and for a poor person is like a warrior fighting for Allah's cause, or like a person who fasts during the day and prays all the night."

... though he'd shy from knowing I called him as such. It is the last change I asked; I hope the last for a long while. For now, at least, I've broken the habit.

"God provides limitlessly for whomever he will."

And I am grateful.

I am very, very grateful.

Tired

2009-01-17T01:10:00.000-05:00

I'm tired of there being pictures of dead babies in my inbox = I'm tired of there being dead babies.

One Year

2008-12-29T10:26:00.001-05:00

29 September 1979 - 29 December 2007

Frivolity: Three Personally Indispensible Garments in Review

2008-10-14T03:01:00.005-04:00

A not entirely flattering to the garment (visible cat hairs and sky blue crew socks do not a fashion statement make) image of al-Mujalbaba's pocketed peachskin a-line skirt:

I have a love/hate relationship with this skirt. Or rather a love-with-caveats relationship with this skirt, since I wear it all the time. I bought it when I was pregnant, and it is to date the very best maternity clothes investment I've ever made, not the least of which being because it can continue to be worn postpartum. When the al-Mujalbaba proprietor says the waistband stretches she really, really means it s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s. That does, however, create one of the caveats as well -- an all-around elastic waistband is not the most flattering (although it does make this skirt perfect for prayers).

The material is very nice. It is also very polyester. It carries a soft sheen that is quite attractive, particularly in somewhat lower light, has a tight enough weave to feel virtually indestructible, and is pleasantly silkly to the touch. But it does still feel like polyester and it rustles like polyester. The material, I think, is a matter of tastes. I prefer natural fibers, but as a mother of two babies the wash and wear aspect (or, if need be, the spot clean with a baby wipe aspect) trumps that preference sometimes.

My biggest complaint would be for length. At five-foot-six, a forty-two inch long skirt generally winds up hiked up to my ribcage. I'm a little lazy with hemming.

Above, the detail embroidery embellishing Shukr's flared corduroy skirt:

I love this skirt. And I love this skirt in this color -- "khaki" is not normally my favorite, but this is a small bit greener than average. Not so much as to no longer be passably neutral, but enough to border more on the side of olive than beige.

There are caveats here as well. Firstly, I would prefer it were a heavier weight corduroy. That, however, has more to do with my aforementioned preference for indestructible materials than any flaw in this material itself, and I will concede that this is much more comfortable in warmer weather than a heavier material might be. Secondly, a bit of elastic in just the back of the waist would be nice. For women such as myself with a significantly wider hip than waist, this one takes some tailoring to not be loose at the very top. And so long as it is at the tailor, thirdly, it is also a bit long for me to not gather dust from the floor.

Lastly, more a general issue than a garment-specific one, it is not always so obvious from the product depictions when Shukr's embroidery is utilizing metallic thread. I have no complaint on this skirt in this respect as the detailing is both minimal and quite pretty, but it would be nice if they would make note of it in their descriptions. I have an older tunic shirt from them which I had thought was tone-on-tone beige embroidery, but which turned out to be gold. I was not so disappointed as to make a return, and it is an often complimented part of my wardrobe, however it is still likely I'd have chosen something else had I known.

Still, all of those small things pale in comparison to the fact that this skirt is just pretty and makes me feel pretty, while also managing to be mature, elegant, and casual all in one. So to that effect I could not have asked for more.

And lastly, also from Shukr, their super wide-leg rayon trousers:

I am not a pants person, so for me this pair amounts to being the best pants ever for the simple fact that the legs are wide enough to, together, give a skirt-like impression. The material is very lightweight and flowing, wonderful in summer. (Although I tend to just wear long johns under my summer weight clothes in winter -- an arrangment for which these are also perfect. I'm not sure if that makes me cheap or just pragmatic.)

The advantage, in my opinion, that these have over Shukr's similar cosmopolitan trousers is the same as one of the possible disadvantages to the al-Mujalbaba skirt: namely the full elastic waistband. The sheer width of the elastic (as in the first image) and its more limited give, however, results in less fabric bunching than with the skirt, while still allowing enough give to be highly comfortable in most any setting.

This is quite probably my most understated yet also most satisfying Shukr purchase to date.

Dayton, Meet Clarion

2008-10-01T19:12:00.003-04:00

In fact, consider what the apologists for Obsession are really implying when they question the link between the movie and the attack. Is there really such a nationwide, systematic pogrom against mosques, such that the timing of the Dayton incident was truly coincidental, statistically speaking? ... The timing was too convenient to be coincidental, and only someone with deeply-entrenched prejudice could possibly suspend their common sense enough to argue otherwise. (Belienet)

Simply: no.

When the finger is pointed squarely towards the Clarion Fund, the point at which history begins is drawn forward to here, to today. The cultural climate which has allowed far too many of our men and women to be harassed, institutions to be defaced, and communities to be humilated and threatened is erased from the time before this day.

Yes, Obsession is a rather vile little piece of propaganda distributed with what is hard to believe can be anything but ill intent. I almost had to laugh at the point that its makers began to delve into Muslim/Nazi comparisons. I would have laughed at the far too obvious emotional manipulation in this, had I believed that everyone else watching would view it in the same light.

However -- and it is an important however -- do not imagine that when, for example, a Huffington Post writer posits that "this, apparently, is what the scare tactic political campaigning of John McCain's supporters has led to -- Americans perpetrating a terrorist attack against innocent children on American soil," they are not also using Muslims for partisan political gain.

Speak out against the film, as loudly as you choose. Speak out against the cultural climate to which it contributes.

And speak out against acts like those against the children in Dayton, Ohio, regardless of whether the mystery substance turns out to be roach spray, pepper spray, or hair spray.

But do not under any circumstances allow those who have an invested interest in seeing these acts connected by a straight and clear line pretend that this is something new and novel in America. Do not let them convince anyone that someone has not once already tried to scare mosque patrons with a fog release in Sacramento, that bullets have not been fired at mosques from Maryland to Texas to Florida states, that we have not seen a rash of everything from broken windows and graffiti to all out arson attempts and successes across the nation, and that there are not among our neighbors those who have found it appropriate to, for example, roll a decapitated pig's head in amongst prayers in Idaho, or to spatter blood upon a San Francisco mosque's outer walls. For starters.

It is not everywhere. And it is not everyone. Many of us never see it. And perhaps that accounts for some among us believing that "the timing was too convenient to be coincidental." But for the rest of us, when we nod in agreement, pleased that at last -- at last! -- one such incident has warranted mention outside of back-page local news and strictly Muslim sources, choosing to forget that the timing really isn't so convenient, all precedent considered, and choosing to hail the mention devoid though it may be of appropriate context and full recent history ... well, it becomes ourselves who are drawing history forward. And ourselves who become complicit in the ongoing national ignorance regarding the ever murky scale and source of things.

Ourselves who, once the letters to the editor are written, the election is passed, and no external sources, regardless of how sympathetic they might now appear, any longer have use for news blips like this ... it is ourselves who will be again forgotten. And our assaulted children, again, ignored.

Happy Eid

2008-09-29T21:40:00.003-04:00

Eid sa'eed, wa kull 'am wa antum bikhair. Taqabbal allahu minna wa minkum. I sincerely hope towards this close of Ramadan you find your strength of spirit to be sustainably strong. .

Good Men

2008-09-23T21:29:00.002-04:00

There is a shortage of good men. Or so this is what I hear. Young, religious, educated women find themselves faced with a sea of inadequacies and compromises between which to choose, be it in their husbands or in the idea of marrying itself. But I admit to being the bearer of bias on this issue. I am a woman of many brothers, fathers, and sons, you see. They were my inheritance far more than anything in the way of properties and dollar bills. Most of them single. Many of them seeking. Some, I would say, are among the very best of men. And are often heavily unsought themselves.

They hold the requisite high degrees. They have saved to afford home and family. They are pious and faithful and chaste, gentle in demeanor, generous, well-mannered, and occasionally a bit self-effacing. They are chivalrous without condescension. They are not perfect ... some may read as a bit awkward around women, some more than a bit, some may tell bad jokes, and others may have bought a little too much into movie-scripted flowery romantic ideals. But they are, above all, devotees of Allah subhana wa ta'ala, devotees of their families, and mean to be right by the latter in the effort to be right by the former. They are, in short, good men. And, from where I sit, they do not appear to be in short supply.

They are immigrants though. All of those degrees are sometimes useful, and sometimes not. And I can not help but to notice that it is they who have found their degrees useful -- the ones who are practicing doctors, practicing engineers -- who are married already. Most of the rest ... the limo drivers, the clerks, the baggage check attendants ... well, they look and wait, and sometimes go back home just long enough to be engaged in the traditional way.

As I see this time and time again, I have to wonder: how much of that degree of compromise I keep hearing women lament is really a compromise in the way of the quality of men, and how much is a compromise in the way of the economic and social status those men bring?

W.D. Muhammad

2008-09-11T00:43:00.002-04:00

I just want to make a note that a number of Imam W.D. Muhammad's lectures are available for listening on the New Africa Radio website.

Inna lilahi wa inna ilahi raji'un.

Ramadan

2008-08-24T15:55:00.003-04:00

Ramadan is coming, a respite. No eggs to crack before dawn, no sweets to bake for in the night. I know Ramadan in America spells loneliness for many, but I like spending Ramadan alone, just me and two babies far too young to expect anything different of the month. I thrive on it being the quietest time -- no streamers strung between buildings, no drummers announcing the coming dawn, no cookies and colored lights, no sheep gathered in pens by the streetside awaiting their fates. Just a woman and her children, a woman and her books, a woman and her prayers. A life tuned down, a world put on pause. Just a whispering before god, a prayer cast into the night.

Aisha

2008-07-10T14:03:00.002-04:00

Aisha M. M. Rashad
07 July 2008
8 lbs. 13.6 oz. (!) and healthy as can be.

Frivolity III: Cotton and Linen for Summer

2008-07-04T20:22:00.004-04:00

The range of cotton square scarf colors available at al-Hannah for about ten dollars apiece.

Pure cotton printed scarves from The Hijab Shop. Converts to about twelve dollars U.S.

Another of the above.

Colorful loose-weave scarf from eShakti. The main scarf page says 100% cotton; the product page says "cotton rayon." Either way it is likely cool enough for hotter weather. Ten dollars.

Primo Moda's "cotton soft lines shawl," available in a few pastel shades, for fifteen.

Forever 21's pure linen scarf, available in a range of light and bright colors (as well as black) for about eleven bucks. They also carry a lot of lightweight viscose and various blend shawls, which I like for summer anyway. Just make sure to look at the fabric content and not only the product name if you're looking for something specific -- they're another company that has a tendency to name things like "Striped Cotton Shawl" with a fabric content of exactly zero percent actual cotton.

Another pure linen scarf, this time from the Luxury Divas for about fourteen dollars.

A light cotton wrap from Kohl's for ten.

A Scarf World roughly forty inch cotton square, converting to about eleven and a half dollars.

Another light, not to mention more subdued, Scarf World cotton square. Search for cotton fabric along with "hijab friendly" in the "product type" drop-down box and you'll turn up a few more options. They also have a summer hijabs page all its own. (You can change the currency display in the right hand column.)

An Anokhi block-printed cotton scarf -- fourteen dollars each, shipping included. Anokhi makes really very nice printed scarves for those of us who are comfortable with smaller scarves: fifteen inches wide for shaylas, and thirty inch squares. I'm not overly comfortable in that range, so while I own this exact scarf myself I double-wrap it with a solid -- a style which, just for the sheer number of layers involved, makes it a little less summer friendly than these might be were they even just a couple of inches wider.

Another Luxury Divas shawl, this time a quite sheer cotton gauze which is nevertheless wide enough to fold under for opacity. Although the six dollar price tag makes me suspicious as to quality, personally.

Al-Mujalbaba is selling cotton gauze hijabs in a few colors, although unpictured -- and while I might be fine with buying "french vanilla" or "tan" without seeing it, "yellow" and "pea green" are another story. She is also carrying linen blend shaylas, though personally I am not a big fan of self-fringe. If I want to have to mess with a fringe to make it a clean edge (or at least knotted) I'll look at Fabrics-Store.com for their 3.5 ounce (think handkerchief weight) pre-softened pure linen in really lovely colors (of which they'll send swatches for free). Anyone with even the slightest inclination to sew can roll and stitch scarf edges, and/or fringe them. Two yards of material equals two 72 by about 28 inch scarves (less however one deals with edges) or three 72 by 19 inch scarves (less the same) for -- including shipping, to me at least -- about twenty dollars. Granted that you might not want three identical pacific blue scarves, or even muted beige ones, but for gifts or getting together on something with friends it's something to think about (when you find yourself looking at piles of polyester scarves on meltingly hot days, that is).

Home

2008-06-30T15:17:00.001-04:00

This is the house; our house. Now mostly my children's house. The one about which I am trying to decide what, exactly, to do.

This is more or less the state it was in when last I saw it: a mountain of cement and steel, rough not only around the edges but in the centers too, although slowly coming together with the touches that convert industrial messes into welcoming homes. The coating of sand and grit on the floors was replaced with ceramic and porcelain tiles; rough gaping window and door ways found themselves framed and awaiting glass panes.

It is on a quiet street, dirt paved, in Abu Sulaiman, an area with which we both found fault -- my husband because it is too far from the heart of the city; myself because the city's edges encroach too near. But then there is this ...

They -- my in-laws -- tell me it is finished, though I've not seen yet myself.

I assume the outer stucco work is done, though I do not ask. In part because I try to avoid the subject of the house altogether most days, and in part because I do not know the Arabic for "stucco" to be able to ask at all.

Instead they tell me about the tomatoes they are growing there, about the roses and screening trees, because they are really telling me it is right for me, right for my children, that we should come and come soon, we all can live there and make things easy to one another. Because they know I like growing things and so they grow things for me.

But it is not something easy, even to go back at all. Not yet.