Keep Yourself Alive

A few years ago there was a burst of blog activity chronicling the rise and fall of the Salafi movement in the U.S, this started on Umar Lee’s blog and even led the creation of a blog, Salafi Burnout, which was dedicated to this event.

Many stories were told in the comment sections and elsewhere. That something created with the intention of bringing people closer to Allah had led to such misery was deeply saddening.

Tariq Nelson wrote a post outlining the cult like nature of some of these groups.

Sadly, some used the events to further a sectarian agenda, preferring to focus on the type of Islam involved, rather then the pain of their brother and sisters.

This year both Umar Lee’s and Salafi Burnout’s carried new stories of those caught up in the movement mentality, but this time it involved the Shadhili tariqat of Nuh Ha Mim Keller and Muhammed Yaqubi.

It is notable that most of those speaking out against the tariqa are women. This is significant.

There was some hostile and indeed misogynistic reaction to these statements, with the familiar tropes of “crazy” and “nafsi” women who weren’t submissive enough.

Also there was the implication that silence is the best adab. Since then, much of the dialogue as moved into sectarian criticism of Tasawuuf and the tariqa system.

Again, those most damaged are being overlooked and the chance for real change is being lost.

For these events are not caused by types of Islam, aquida or fiqh. They are caused by an Unhealthy Group Mentality (UGM).

Some might call this cultish thinking, but the word cult is a loaded one. Most cult are obviously so, from their inception. Whereas the groups named above did not begin with the intention  of cult-hood, but became that way through the activities of those involved.

This is why we must be careful to avoid sectarian figure pointing. UGM can develop very slowly and be imperceptible to those inside or outside of the group.

So what is an Unhealthy Group Mentality(UGM)?

Put simply, it is the behaviour and attitudes of any group which is likely to be damaging to those in the group.

How can UGM be prevented?

• Always, always remember that you alone will be accountable for your actions on the Day of Judgment. As you have the sole accountability for yourself, so you should have the final say. Seeking advice is one thing, but letting others make decisions for you is another.

• Allah gives people different blessings, some are visible, others are not. Whatever blessings someone may have, it does not necessarily indicate that they are a good person. Beware of assuming that someone is sinless just because of their status, knowledge or background. Only Allah knows the true reality of things.

• Unless there is abuse or another type of dangerous situation , then any marital problems should be solved by both spouses, together. One spouse talking about problems, alone to an outside party, rarely results in a positive solution. You both are the experts on your marriage, not an outsider.

• Step away from the fatwa websites. Unless you are seeking a solution to a specific religious query (e.g, does using toothpaste break my fast?), fatwa sites can be at best unhelpful and at worst destructive, if not actually dangerous.

This is because they encourage people to put their problems into the   hands of people who do not know them personally, may come from a very different culture and cannot get an accurate insight into the situation from one letter or email. Knowledge, religious or otherwise, does not equal wisdom. As consulting fatwa sites discourages personal responsibility, this is a dangerous practice.

• Judge the situation, not the status of those involved in it. If the members of a group have numerous disputes, divorces or other fitna, they may not be as pious as they claim. Look at what people do, not what they say.

• Keep a wide social circle, as this prevents isolationism and help maintain personal perspective.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. Additions and advice are welcome.

Being Muslim While White Privileged

For Brooke’s White Privilege and the Ummah carnival.

Oh, where to start, because this is a very thorny issue indeed.
Firstly, an acknowledgment. Appearing visibly Muslim (wearing hijab, Sunnah beard, thobe, e.t.c) will indeed open you up to anti-Muslim prejudice even if you are white.

However,

The majority of white converts are aware that all we need to do is take off the aforementioned accoutrements and we will blend right back into whiteness again.

Muslims of colour, whether convert or born, do not have that option. They never have access to White privilege.

Privilege is not just about appearance, although it does play a key part.

Carrying our invisible knapsacks has other effects too. The concept that White is the standard, the norm and that white majority countries are the ones to aspire to can be deeply ingrained.

When a white Muslim communicates with a Muslim of colour, this may be the first communication they have had with any person of colour, where the white person is not communicating as a member of the numerically dominant group, for while white people may be the majority in Western countries, in Islam, they are very much the minority.

Such demographics may lead the white Muslim to feel at a disadvantage, one they have not been socialised with and this leads to many white converts furiously attacking the born Muslims, usually for their lack of “Good Muslimness”, when the real issue is the white convert’s lack of power, compared to that they enjoy being part of a majority in mainstream society.

But wait. Aren’t white Muslims, the prized pets, the conversion stories everyone wants to hear, the ones who get far more marriage proposals and attention then their convert brethren of colour?

Yes, but there are two factors for this.

The first is that White is seen to equal Western in a way that a person of colour rarely is, especially by those living outside the West. This is supported by the White dominated media exported by the West, which usually transmits tropes of White privilege both openly and subliminally.

As the West asserts itself as being superior economically, educationally, socially, so white people are viewed as being superior and therefore better to have in the religion as converts. Why else does the urban myth about Bill Gates converting to Islam surface so frequently?

For various reasons, political and otherwise, Muslims feel themselves at a disadvantage, hence the idea that the best way of getting more power for the Muslims, is to get people viewed as having more power to convert. Then, once those powerful people convert, ensure they are front and centre whenever possible to attract more of the same.

It is often mentioned that the area where whites are most privileged in the Muslim community is that of marriage, especially white Muslimahs.

This is linked to the issues of perceived superiority, as I described above. However it usually manifests itself as colourism, namely the view that appearing white, especially white skinned, is desirable.

Note that while the white skin may be desirable, white culture in a spouse, usually isn’t. White people may be viewed as being promiscuous, not interested in supporting their in laws, not good house keepers, selfish, cold and generally likely to go back to their pre conversion ways.

This explains why, in cultures like the Arab or Desi cultures, where the husband is often viewed as the dominant personality, white women are viewed as acceptable marriage partners, but not white men.
If you marry a white women you get the perceived benefits of white skin and lighter offspring, without the risk of losing your culture.

A convert of colour is not viewed as having any of these benefits, which explains why they may find it very difficult to find a Muslim spouse.

The concept of White superiority is alien to Islam, in fact it’s haraam and so it is one that White Muslims must work very hard to shed, without seeking any reward, head patting or cookies for doing so.

The first step in unpacking your invisible knapsack, is to recognise that you are wearing one.

Carnival Time – Celebrating Muslim Motherhood

Firstly, a confession. I didn’t get many submissions, so I actually went hunting for some worthy material.

Masha Allah, there is so much out there, this is just a small selection.

If anyone would like to add to it, please email me: safiyaoutlines at gmail dot com, or alternatively, you can leave comment.

On with the carnival!

Luckyfatima describes how giving birth provides a new awareness of your body and it’s natural strength

Mamamona posts about raising her son to be a good Muslim man. Gori Wife shares her feelings at having a son and ponders the questions he may ask about his faith as he grows older

Happy Muslim Mama tells of how cultural values lead to daughters being undervalued and how she is ensuring her daughters grow up secure in their worth.

Nzingha is encouraging her daughter to follow her dream of being an Islamic judge.

A Mother can frequently feel torn between many roles, that of a Muslimah, a wife, a mother, plus their own wants and needs. Tasmiya and Southern Muslimah each describe how they cope with such conflicts.

Incorporating the deen into every day life and instilling a love for Allah The Most High is the most important role of any Muslim parent.

Muslim Mama recalls the deen routine she grew up with and how she is doing similar activities with her children.

Achelois’ post is a beautiful story of teaching her son the power of du’a

In her second post of the carnival, Happy Muslim Mama details the difficulties and rewards of praying with children.

Leila El Haddad of the Raising  Yousuf and Noor blog describes celebrating Eid, making it fun for her children while hiding the worry she feels for her parents. Please make du’a that they are reunited soon.

The next selection of posts look at Muslim mothers, from a daughter’s perspective.

Baraka and Digital Niqabi’s beautiful posts both look at their how their relationship with their mothers has changed as they have grown to know them as people, beyond the mothering role. Updated: Yasmine from Sweep the Sunshine has also submitted a post about her mother. These three posts are glorious examples of the love a mother can inspire.

Finally, being the mother to a Muslim when you are not Muslim yourself.

In a post that resonated with me personally, Molly Multicultural Muslimah describes  how her mother supported her through her conversion.

Alhamdulilah for mothers, being mothered and mothering.

Blog Carnival: Celebrating Muslim Motherhood

The Carnival will be on 25th April 2009, insha Allah.

All submissions welcome, the more the merrier! Doesn’t matter if you’re a mother or not, as long as it relates to the subject title, it’s welcome

This a great chance to counteract the usual headpatting associated with the topic.

You can use a new post, an old post, if you don’t have a blog I’ll put the post up here.

Just email your post links or posts to:

safiyaoutlines at gmail dot com

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I want to blow bubbles for ever

When Oreo was born, I wanted to put us both in a bubble. A warm, cosy bubble where we could eat, sleep and snuggle.

It wasn’t possible to build an actual bubble, but we’re still in a bubble like state. We have our little world of feed times, nap times bath time, afternoon walks, smiles and tickles.

And it’s wonderful, Alhamdulilah.

That might sound like Mr Outlines is on the sidelines, but far from it. Abu Oreo loves his baby girl. He’s in love. As I watch him cuddle her and whisper to her in Arabic I see a new side to him and I love him even more.

I’m wondering why I’m writing this. I’m not the most sharing type of blogger. I guess it’s because you read so much about the downside of parenting, I just wanted to talk about the positives.

Islamically, mothering is seen a an important role, but too often it’s made to sound like a grim duty, rather then the joy and form of worship that it is.

So I’ve decided to host a blog carnival. The theme is Muslim motherhood. Any submissions dealing with being a Muslim mother or having a Muslim mother are welcome. Leave me an email, comment or trackback and on 25th April 2009, insha Allah,  I’ll put up all the links.

Love To Love You Baby

I really do.

I love your face when you smile up at me first thing in the morning.

I love how you  stretch out in the same way as your Dad when you fall asleep.

I love your milky breath.

I love kissing your cheeks and blowing raspberries on your tummy.

I even love the little tomato face you make when you’re filling your nappy.

I look at your feet and remember the first time I felt them kick inside me, like the prodding of a pencil.

Alhamdulilah, what a blessing being a Mum is. To any Mums reading this. What are your favourite parts of motherhood?

Waiting for this moment to explain itself through

Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone who left such lovely comments on my last two posts.

Blogging, like most things, can be positive and enriching, or incredibly destructive.

Alhamdulilah, I’ve found my three years in the blogosphere to be in the former category. However, that doesn’t mean I have always behaved perfectly, so at this juncture, I remind myself and anyone else to be nice.

Nice. Nice is an underrated and frequently mokced quality. It does not mean being weak or artificial, like many think it does.

No, to be nice means to treat others with politeness, dignity and respect. So that even if you disagree with someone, you critique the idea or opinion instead of criticising and insulting the person.

Despite frequent reminders of the importance of correct speech within the Islamic faith, the Muslim blogosphere is not always a nice place to be.

It is sad that most Muslim blogs use comment moderation, not just to block abuse from Islamophobes but from their brothers and sisters in Islam.

Actually, sad doesn’t quite cover it. It is a devastating fact. We are meant to love each other, want the best for each other, yet we seem to relish insulting and mocking each other.

We could be so much more then that. The concept of “Online Friends” is an odd one, yet I feel like I have met so many wonderful and inspiring people through the internet. There are many wonderful blogs out there, that inspire me and push me, challenge my ideas and preconceptions.

Let’s encourage and nurture each other.

As a kind of third birthday thing, here are some posts from my old blog:

Blame it on the Burqa/This is why I mod

Prithee Fair Cliche

Barmy Stickers at Bus Stops

So Easy

Everybody is a V.I.P to Somebody

Not Right in The Head

What Rape Is

Is there a Special Fruit You Can Eat To Keep Gynaecologists At Bay?

For The Love Of…

*****

In case you’re wondering, Oreo is fine, Alhamdulilah. I’m resisting the temptation to write reams about her, because I don’t want to bore you all!

The Last Days of the Baby Disco

Content warning: This post is about childbirth and no, that doesn’t involve any storks.

Oreo was due on the 20th of January. That came and went with no sign of anything happening and lots of advice on how to make things happen.

With all the nursery long set up, I was starting to feel like Miss Havisham with a bump.

So when I was eating my Sunday lunch and felt a small twinge, I didn’t think too much of it. Me and Mr Outlines went for a walk as the contractions gradually became more regular.  By about 8pm, they were powerful enough to have me bent over. I rang the birth centre* and the midwife told me “You sound very calm”.

“I’m not when I’m having them, I replied”.  She told me to take some paracetamol and have a warm bath. This is when we discovered we didn’t actually have any paracetamol in the house (cue Mr Outlines going on a mad dash). Sat in the bath, I felt like a whale in spasm. The warm water did not help me at all and I didn’t like not being able to move freely through each contraction.

My parents arrived and we decided it was time to got to the hospital. On the way through contractions, I was thinking of everyone I wanted to make dua for, and made du’a for them.

Bent double, I was introduced to my midwife and shown the softly lit private room where I would be giving birth. Between contractions, I said good bye to my Dad, then got changed into my nightie. The midwife examined me,  I was 4cm dilated, so thankfully something was happening, but she felt it was too early for any stronger pain relief. So I persevered and was asked if music would distract me. I said yes, tuned in the radio and a Queen song was playing. Me, my Mum and  the midwife  all agreed what a wonderful band Queen were, much to the bemusement of Mr Outlines, who still doesn’t believe me when I tell him they are one of Britain’s best selling bands.

I would like to say that I remained calm and composed throughout, but I didn’t. I screamed and shouted, although to my Mum’s great approval, I only swore once.

Gas and air time and I was puffing and blowing on it so hard, I felt like a demented saxophonist. The midwife offered me an aromatherapy massage, but it lasted about two minutes before I screamed at her to stop, because I couldn’t bear for anyone to touch me.

“When do I get to the pushing part?” I screamed.

“Soon,  dear”,  said my Mum, which as she later admitted was a big fat lie.

Strangely,  despite the fact I tremendously lazy and hate even standing in a queue, I couldn’t bear to sit or lie down. When the midwife offered me pethidine but said I’d have to lie down to have it, I refused.

And time passed. Then I was pushing, compelled to push through the buring pain, just wanting to get the baby out. The midwife guided me through each push, until finally, whoosh  she came out. I could see that she was

1)Huge

2)Perfect.

I couldn’t believe the size of her. It was like they’d snuck a six week old in there. I felt absolutely vindicated as I had sworn all along that she would be a big baby, but as my bump wasn’t that big no one believed me.

Mr Outlines held her while the midwife delivered the afterbirth. On examination, I was told I’d have to go to theatre for stitches. While I waited to go, I held her in my arms. As I predicted, she looked like a baby version of Mr Outlines. Off to theatre and I had a spinal anaesthesia, which was amazing, I just lay there all cozy and warm while the surgeon did what needed to be done.

Then back to my baby, Mr Outlines and my Mum. I fed the baby, while we decided on a name. The first name had been decided before she was even made, but we were still deliberating over middle names.

I fed her and and enjoyed that wonderful feeling over getting to know her little face and falling in love. A love that is not because, a love that just is.

*This is a midwife led, low tech centre, based within the delivery suite. I gave birth at an NHS (universal health care system) hospital and it was fabulous.

Phew!

Alhamdulilah Rabbil Alamin

Forty weeks + five days + the hardest sixteen hours of my life

= a 9lb5oz (4.2kg) baby girl.

Alhamdulilah! Now I understand why the hadith states that carrying your mother on your back while making Hajj does not  equal a single labour pain.

Alhamdulilah, what blessings Allah the Almighty grants us in this life. How wonderful and amazing. For all my fellow Muslimeen reading this, I remembered you in my du’as. May Allah shower you all with blessings.