Majid Minhas’s ( father of Rashid Minhas – famous Pakistani Air Force ‘martyr’) letter to my grandfather
A feeling of connectedness to home, spiritually speaking, would appear to make sense as a reason for wearing the veil and subsequently make it all the more dreadful to those seeking to police an othered citizenry. The veil constitutes a marker of divinely ordained and radically differentiated space, which is collapsed through the premise that one is always under God’s law from the ultra-orthodox Islamic perspective, but it is also the case that the veil actually can and might be liberating for those seeking spiritual solace in police states, both literally and figuratively. Coupled with the fact that the veil does not have to be worn inside the space of one’s home, it becomes evident that the symbolic value and meaning of the veil is an affirmation of the radical division of space requisite to Allah’s law, which is itself an interpretation as the Koran offers little guidance as to how women are to dress in public space aside from the injunction in Sura 4 to cover their “ornaments” and to dress “modestly.” The varieties of hijab derive primarily from the Hadith, an extensive collection of secondary writings attributed primarly to the prophet Muhammed and his followers, which actually challenges the clear distinction between the sacred and the profane evident within fundamentalist Islamic theologies. In other words, the diagnosis for hijab is Koranic, but the prescription derives from other sources, which thwarts any attempt to locate various forms of hijab as divinely ordained or, at the very least, Koranically-based. However, the radical division between the sacred and the profane within Islamic theology, which is shared amongst the foundational narratives of all Abrahamic traditions, is precisely what the veil is meant to overcome from the insider’s perspective, even if the veil differs according to the spatiality of its cultural capital, which is only part of the issue at stake in the French veil ban. Summarizing the findings from a qualitative analysis of veil-wearers in contemporary France, Hussain notes, “[…] in most cases, the women interviewed said they adopted the full-face veil as part of a spiritual journey. Many desired to deepen their relationship with God and draw on the actions of the Prophet Mohammed’s wives for guidance. They recalled their feelings of extreme joy and well-being on the first day of wearing a niqab/seetar.”(31) Building on this sentiment, Afshar’s work comments on the relational tensions brought about by the veil for women wearing it in non-Muslim countries and for converts. She observes:
For Muslim converts the decision to wear hijab in the West is a public political assertion of the right to belong to the community of Muslims, but, particularly for convert women, it is not a rejection of home and hearth and kinship relations with their non-Muslim families and parents. Within liberal democratic states and feminist contexts their decision to wear the hijab is a matter of faith and identity and a political act of solidarity, but not one that alienates them from their kin and communities.(32)
The multiple allegiances that Afshar maintains are critical for making sense of the veil-wearer’s sense of self are exactly what have drawn such sharp theological and political attacks from all sides, even if the purported intent of the veil-wearer is spiritual, and it is problematic to divorce the cultural capital invested within its varieties. On the other hand, critics remain skeptical of the collusion between politics and religion that are embedded within the veil and see such spiritual justifications as a sign of the institutional interpellation that is a necessary component of a totalizing Islamic identity, which is also seen as transforming public space into a theo-national space—one where women are inhrently second-class citizens. Arguing against the theological homogenization of identity, Berger contends that “the contemporary use of the hijab seems to ignore or negate sexual difference in the theological order by helping to define and assert a single, overarching Islamic identity, while at the same time firmly establishing women’s specific role in the process: it is as though the particular invisibility of the hijabwearers enabled Islam to stand: in their place.”(33) Berger’s combative assault on the ideology underlying the veil alludes to Žižek’s take on the veil within ultra-orthodox Islamic theology while raising the fundamental question at the heart of the veil debate: have the particularities of female identity been thrown out with the veiled bathwater of having one’s identity always-already mediated within the (public) space of Islam? How might these contending perspectives be reconciled?
I may not understand poetry too well, but how can you love Nizar Qabbani and treat women so poorly?
I have no power to change you
or explain your ways
Never believe a man can change a woman
Those men are pretenders
that they created woman
from one of their ribs
Woman does not emerge from a man’s rib’s, not ever,
it’s he who emerges from her womb
like a fish rising from depths of water
and like streams that branch away from a river
It’s he who circles the sun of her eyes
and imagines he is fixed in place
I have no power to tame you
or domesticate you
or mitigate your first instincts
This task is impossible
I’ve tested my intelligence on you
also my dumbness
Nothing worked with you, neither guidance
Stay primitive as you are
I have no power to break your habits
for thirty years you have been like this
for three hundred years
a storm trapping in a bottle
a body by nature sensing the scent of a man
assaults it by nature
triumphs over it by nature
Never believe what a man says about himself
that he is the one who makes the poems
and makes the children
It is the woman who writes the poems
and the man who signs his name to them
It is the woman who bears the children
and the man who signs at the maternity hospital
that he is the father
I have no power to change your nature
my books are of no use to you
and my convictions do not convince you
nor does my fatherly council do you any good
you are the queen of anarchy, of madness, of belonging
to no one
Stay that way
You are the tree of femininity that grows in the dark
needs no sun or water
you the sea princess who has loved all men
and loved no one
slept with all men… and slept with no one
you are the Bedouin woman who went with all the tribes
and returned a virgin
Stay that way.
Abstract: Since 2001 a new urge to moralize the use of violence as an instrument of state policy has appeared in liberal democracies. The American idea of a War Against Terror, and the European notion of confronting a global terrorist threat, have together merged with a discourse on humanitarian military action: the political/moral ‘responsibility to protect’ is no longer to be confined to one’s own citizens. Renewed interest among academics in ‘just war’ theory, the tradition that seeks to humanize war through law, reflects this development. This article questions the assumption that there is an essential difference between war (civilized violence) and terrorism (barbaric violence). It argues that their similarity appears more clearly if we set intentions aside – such as the deliberate or accidental killing of ‘innocents’ – and focus instead on three main facts: (a) modern war strategies and technologies are uniquely destructive, (b) armed hostilities increasingly occupy a single space of violence in which war and peace are not clearly demarcated, and (c) the law of war does not provide a set of ‘civilizing’ rules but a language for legal/moral argument in which the use of punitive violence is itself a central semantic element.
Amazing paper that questions current language used to define the very politicized ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ kind of violence.
Majid Minhas’s ( father of Rashid Minhas – famous Pakistani Air Force ‘martyr’) letter to my grandfather
Lecture at CUNY Baruch.
Reason for listening: My cousin recently introduced me to the work of AbdolKarim Soroush, have been reading a book on the creation of Islamic Jurisprudence recommended to me by a Shaykh, and am considering taking a class on hadith studies. All to help me grasp a firmer understanding of hadith/fiqh studies. Also, they all look like adorable grandpas.
If I ever have a kid, I hope he or she is like this.
Patiently dreaming, never giving up hope.
That typically means they are a racist. Racism isn’t something someone can define themselves with, racism is declared by those who are victims of racism. For some reason, people think racism is simply calling people racial slurs or wearing white cone-headed suits. It’s a much more complex concept that dictates our behavior, both consciously and unconsciously in the world.
I figure it’s the same when I/people claim I-am/they are ‘good,’ ‘honest,’ ‘modest,’ etc. Sometimes, I feel that living in an environment in which we must sell ourselves to get jobs, we seem to have learned how to label ourselves incorrectly. I believe I first read it in a Jiddu Krishnamurti book where it said that once you define yourself with a quality, you no longer have that quality. Not recognizing a quality means that you may have it. Recognition of a quality also means that the person will feel there is no need to improve upon that quality. Being ‘good’ is a lifelong process, you don’t just reach the top of a mountain and sit there having accomplished ‘goodness’.
I feel the same idea can be applied to the concept of racism, something that we are taught at a very young age. Some of what we are taught may be more obvious as in believing that a certain race is inferior, but other teachings are something that are deeply embedded in our minds that will require our entire lives to attempt to disengage.
Every few months a new headline entitled “Honor Killing” emerges with a picture of a beautiful brown-skinned woman who was horrifically killed by her husband or by some other male-member of her family. Looking through the comments on the article, one can easily find statements such as, “Those barbaric Muslim men,” “glad I’m an infidel,” or the sarcastic “This is Islam – the religion of ‘peace.'” From then on we are led to believe that all around the world women suffer at the hands of Muslim men who have every right to beat and kill them in the name of this term ‘honor.’ (It doesn’t help when some random bookstore decides to sell a book that apparently has a passage saying it’s ok for Muslims to beat their wife.) But why is this crime of honor something only South Asians or Arab men commit? What does it mean to kill someone for honor? What’s the difference between murder and honor killing?
Though no one would ever think of using the term honor violence (we reserve that descriptor for brown people who live somewhere else, motivated by religious something-or-other or tribal something-or-other), one-third of women murdered every year in the United States are killed by their intimate partners. In 2005 that amounted to 1,181 women, or three women every day. To put that in perspective, the UN estimates there are 5,000 honor killings every year in the entire world. 5,000 in a world of 6 billion versus nearly 1,200 in a single country of 300 million. In other words, a woman in America runs a greater risk of being killed by her husband or boyfriend than a woman in Pakistan.
I believe the term ‘honor killing’ has been exotified to group Muslim, Arab, and South Asian men in a different inferior type of category, the ‘other.’ By utilizing this term, South Asian/Muslim/Arab are stereotyped with this ‘inherent’ trait of patriarchy and violence. For example, if your average American (white-skinned) man was found to beat his children, people would collectively abhor this man, but would not categorize all white men as people who beat their children. Perhaps one will find that the man himself came from a ‘troubled past’ – whether it be alcoholism, abuse that he suffered, or other personal experiences that have led him to be a terrible parent. However, if a South Asian man was found to beat his child, suddenly all South Asian men are categorized as oppressive by nature. There is no look into his past to understand what made him become the person he is; it’s because he was born South Asian that there is a belief that he comes from a ‘barbaric/other/inferior/uncouth’ culture that permits this kind of behavior.
This is what the term ‘honor killing’ does for what should be labeled ‘murder’. Suddenly, only South Asian/Muslim/Arab men are capable of murdering their wives, daughters, etc., and suddenly their religious views will be all that matters. Being a Muslim means you somehow were given a God-given right to beat your wife, to kill her for disobeying you. All Muslim men are suspect, for they all have some underlying, dormant ability to murder their loved ones. Can you imagine – as a brown-skinned Muslim, if I’m walking on the street and my father decides to yell at me for doing something wrong, everyone will believe that my father is an oppressive, nasty man, and that all other South Asian men are terrible? It is somehow their proof that all Muslims are untrustworthy. People are led to believe that we come from an ‘inferior/uncouth’ culture that accepts this behavior, the behavior that would claim that the men in my family are capable of murder! And yet, there are no international headlines when your average white man kills his wife, because there is no collective belief that all white men are capable of murder. It is simply the incident of a crazed man who was upset that his wife cheated on her, which led him to do the unspeakable. He wasn’t protecting his ‘honor’ here. He’s crazy.
This is not to delegitimize the very real concerns of domestic violence in Muslim communities, but it is to say that we shouldn’t exotify murder. Murder is murder. Honor killing is murder. It should be labeled as murder. By labeling this crime properly we may be able to ensure that the overwhelming majority of Muslim/South Asian/Arab men are not given this unique status of patriarchal douchebags capable of killing people. And that the overwhelming majority of Muslim/South Asian/Arab women are not oppressed beings that sit around waiting to be freed by the white savior.
There is an expectation that we can talk about sins but no one must be identified as a sinner: newspapers love to describe words or deeds as “racially charged” even in those cases when it would be more honest to say “racist”; we agree that there is rampant misogyny, but misogynists are nowhere to be found; homophobia is a problem but no one is homophobic. One cumulative effect of this policed language is that when someone dares to point out something as obvious as white privilege, it is seen as unduly provocative. Marginalized voices in America have fewer and fewer avenues to speak plainly about what they suffer; the effect of this enforced civility is that those voices are falsified or blocked entirely from the discourse.
I’ve shared this article on my other blog, Facebook, and through email. However, this quote could stand entirely on its own. This is truth, and I wanted to put it somewhere where I can find it easily. (The entire article is absolutely brilliant)
My grandfather with Faiz Ahmed Faiz. According to my aunt and father they were ‘friends.’ I tried getting them to define what that meant in this specific relationship, and from what I can guess they had a more ‘intellectual’ relationship than what someone would say is a friendship. I can’t imagine, at least from the little I’ve been told, that my father would invite Faiz Ahmed Faiz to parties.
I also asked my father if Dada was a socialist. He said no. A capitalist? No. Papa said that Dada simply enjoyed the company of intellectuals, and would learn from every source possible. I wish I could find out more…