Leaping over language barriers

This article was first published on Aquila Style.

Adventures in picking up a new language doesn’t have much to do with meeting new people.

Image: Pixabay

At this moment, I live unwillingly in the Netherlands. I didn’t move here because I loved the language or the culture. After three and a half years, I can understand most of what people are saying, but since I haven’t had (read: couldn’t afford) any formal lessons and I’m not particularly fond of the language, the Dutch language requires the activation of a whole other part of my brain.

I’ve nothing against learning new languages. Or European languages for that matter. I stuck through French lessons in middle school before I finally realised how I actually loved speaking it when I participated in an immersion programme in a sleepy French town (and later, studied there for a year). I still speak decent French and try to not lose my skills by watching French films. And because I already speak English by virtue of being born and bred in a former British colony, I think two imperialist languages are enough for me, thank you.

The thing about speaking Dutch in the Netherlands is that… you don’t have to. Most people in the big cities speak decent English, which is enough to get by if all you want is to buy groceries at the supermarket, or find your way with public transport.

But there’s a double standard when it comes to speaking the local lingo. If you’re a Caucasian or European, you’re not expected to speak Dutch. Laws that allow free movement in the European Union also mean that for Europeans, learning Dutch is merely voluntary. However, for me as a non-European permanent resident, I have to take a language exam in the next two years or risk a severe fine.

Here, there are two types of people who are usually assumed to be unequivocally Dutch: White or Brown (thanks to colonial history). Because my appearance is typically Javanese or Indonesian, I’m often mistaken as being Dutch. Many Dutch people also have grandmothers or great-grandmothers who came over from the former colonies. These women often attempted to integrate totally by adopting the local language and ways of life.

At one point in time, I figured I’d similarly integrate by forcing myself to speak and listen to Dutch. I decided to start in a prenatal yoga group that I had just joined. I figured that I would do okay since I could understand most words relating to movement and parts of the body. Plus, it was a good opportunity to learn the relevant vocabulary for labour and delivery.

It turned out to be a very lonely 10 weeks. Even though I tried my best to speak a little bit of Dutch each lesson to the yoga instructor and to the other participants, I never got around to actually striking up a semblance of a friendship with the other mothers. Perhaps it was our age difference: Almost all the other women were well into their 30s, and some in their 40s. Perhaps we lived in different places: They live in the suburbs and I live in the city. Or perhaps I was just the only non-White person in the whole group.

I had a very different experience in a postnatal Pilates class I’m currently attending. It’s a small and cosy studio not too far from where I live, run by an English woman and attended by many English-speaking people (even though most of the instructors are Dutch). I take two different classes, and both instructors willingly carry out their lessons in a mix of Dutch and English to make sure I can understand.

I’ve also met some kindred souls in this class – a total change from awkward attempts at conversation in my previous yoga class. Whether it’s because women are more sympathetic when they can bond over how bad their hospital experience was, or whether it’s just a friendlier group of women, I haven’t needed to speak Dutch at all. (Besides, my go-to excuse is that my brain is too sleep-deprived caring for a baby to string together a sentence.)

I realised then that it’s not about the language we speak, but about our willingness to know the other. Now when someone speaks to me in Dutch, I don’t feel obligated to reply in the same language to prove I’m a “good” migrant. I’m perfectly happy to speak what is most comfortable to me because what is more important is our effort to communicate, not the language we communicate in.

The sustainability of selfless parents

This article originally appeared in the August 2014 Family issue of Aquila Style magazine.

--

Why taking care of yourself is the first step to providing good care for your children.

Image: Fotolia

As children, my friends and I would compare our parents to one another. At five years old, I pleaded with my mother to wear skirts like the other mothers of my kindergarten classmates. When I was 14, I car-pooled to school with a neighbour and remember being amazed to learn that her mother – who worked full-time – went for massages regularly.

In comparison, my own mother was a full-time stay-at-home-mum, and we always employed a domestic worker as well. I never remembered her going to a spa or anything similar, even though I’m sure she was pretty stressed out running the logistics of a household, raising three children (one with special needs), and managing a live-in employee virtually by herself (my dad is the hands-off kind of father typical of his generation). I thought she was selfless, always putting others before herself, as mothers should ideally be.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I thought that way about motherhood, other than it was probably because society had normalised it. As a new mother myself, I understand that this model of selfless motherhood was not only unsustainable and unhealthy for me; it was also apt to drive me nuts. So, with the birth of our son six months ago as a turning point for our own household, my husband and I reconfigured our duties and came up with strategies to keep ourselves physically and mentally recharged.

Delegate and take turns

My husband and I consider ourselves co-parents, with our duties pretty evenly divided. While we both work, I have the fortune of working from home. Being able to care for your child while also pursuing your own interests is priceless to me.

There are certain chores that are exclusively mine: breastfeeding is one of them. My husband takes out the garbage and recycling. For all other chores, we take turns.

On Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays I am the “primary parent”, taking responsibility for diaper changes and entertaining the baby when he needs attention. My husband takes this role on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. On Fridays – what I consider my “day off” – I get to work undisturbed when my mother-in-law comes to babysit.

Pay someone

Exclusive breastfeeding takes energy. I often joke to my husband that I’ve already prepared 6–8 meals every day. In return, he’s in charge of preparing breakfasts and dinners every day. Both of us work full-time, so we find it affordable to get a cleaner to come every two weeks to do the heavier household work like vacuuming, wiping down surfaces, folding clothes and mopping the floor. It depends on what you consider the more difficult chores – laundry and cooking are easy for us.

My son is also reaching an age when he’s starting to recognise who his primary carers are, so he won’t be okay with an unfamiliar face. I’m lucky that our babysitter is an elderly Indonesian woman – my son probably finds our faces rather similar!

Reconceptualise “we” time

While I love spending time with my son, I think it’s also important to spend time with only my husband. Admittedly, “date nights” don’t happen much because, so far, going everywhere as a family unit is just easier for all of us.

I lucked out with my son being such a good sleeper and having a calm disposition. My husband and I still manage to do many things we used to do as a couple, like watching movies and going to the park. But it’s important to have some time to myself, too.

Find “me” time

While I get several opportunities a week to be by myself for a few hours, I don’t always take all the time off because of the hassle of pumping and storing breast milk for when I’m away. At this point in time, I feel that two hours of exercise a week is the right amount of time for me to recharge physically. I go to Pilates twice a week and a chiropractic adjustment once every few weeks. On some Fridays, I indulge in my biggest treat: spending an hour or two at a neighbourhood cafe with a book and a cup of tea.

Surprisingly, what I relish most about being by myself is that I can cycle to my destination. Even while I was pregnant it was my main mode of transport. (My son can’t join me yet; I still have to wait a few months before he can sit up properly in a bicycle child seat.)

Since becoming a mother I’ve had to let go of my adolescent notions of what it means to be a good parent. Not eating properly, not exercising and feeling stressed can negatively affect my ability to feed, play with and pay attention to my son, all of which ultimately affect our relationship.

I’ve also learned that it’s important to listen to yourself and your child, in order to figure out what works for you both. The individual needs of families vary tremendously, and it won’t be long before it is my son who is comparing me with his friends’ mums.

Image: Fotolia

A letter to my future daughter

My dear daughter,

I will give the same to you as I give a boy. They will tell you that a boy should receive two times the wealth due to you, for no other reason that he has a penis. They like to assume that all men are chivalrous and honorable knights, ready to protect and save the women in their lives from their own frivolously irresponsible decisions.

I will teach you that you will receive what you deserve. They might appreciate your talents and your labour for as long as it is useful to them, but then to reassure themselves of their own beliefs, they will continue choosing men as leaders; doing what has always been done. They will not give you any financial responsibility because they are waiting for you to find a man to do that for you.

I want you to learn to do what you are good at, inside and outside the home. They will tell you that any combination of cooking, washing dishes and ironing clothes are more suitable for you. Never you mind that there are hardly any chores that are more suitable for boys and men; it is more appropriate for them to do nothing at home and that instead, working outside the home and giving money is enough.

I will keep your body intact and thriving, to honour its integrity and the natural laws that govern it. They will tell you that if you do not make a tiny cut on your private parts that you will be too wild, dirty, impure, promiscuous and too much to handle. They will say that childhood is the time to enjoy sugar and all other kinds of poisons, forgetting that you will have to grow from these substances. They will keep you out of the sun because a tan makes you dark and therefore ugly. They will keep you from cycling because riding a bicycle will make you lose your virginity, and from swimming because you have to wear tight-fitting clothes.

I want you to know that only you control your own body. They will tell you that if someone touches you, it must be your fault because you did not wear enough clothes. They will tell you that it must have been something you said or you did that gave them the impression that they could take something that did not belong to them.

I will keep you unaware, for as long as I can, of the perversions that men and women will impose on you. They will tell you that your sexless childish body cannot swim in a bikini, dance in a leotard, run on the beach topless, or jump in the sea naked. They will tell you that you cannot bathe naked with your younger brother, who has a body equally sexless. They will use the same reason to prevent you two from sharing a room. They will frown if you expose your childish legs or shoulders at home. They think that if they don't police you now, you will get used to being immodest and will stay like so until you are old.

Most importantly, I want you to love seeking knowledge and to be able to think critically and carefully about anything and everything because nothing is unquestionable. They will send you to school, but because they are not ready to listen to a woman ask questions and do things in ways other than how they have always been done, they will say you are too educated. They will want that which is sacred and holy to them to be equally sacred and holy and unquestionable to you.

I want your soul to shine as bright as it was created to be.

Love,
Mama

For our own good.

She could not say that Mrs Denbigh's conduct was positively wrong - it might even be quite right; but it was inexpressibly repugnant to her to think of her father consulting with a stranger (...) to manage his daughter, so as to obtain the end he wished for; yes, even if that end was for her own good.

We grew up thinking this was normal, accepted and even, desirable. That as a child you should be controlled, managed and moulded. That as a daughter even more so, because it was for our own good.

A dark cloud came over Jemima's face. She did not like this close observation and constant comment upon her manners; and what had Ruth to do with it? 'I am glad you were pleased,' said she, very coldly. Then, after a pause, she added, 'But you have not told me what Mrs Denbigh had to do with my good behaviour.' 

'Did she not speak to you about it?' asked Mrs Bradshaw, looking up. 'No; why should she? She has no right to criticise what I do. She would not be so impertinent,' said Jemima, feeling very uncomfortable and suspicious.

We were told, scolded, beaten into believing that our negative feelings should be hidden, tamped down, swallowed into oblivion. The slurry of gossip disguised as information fed to those in authority over you about who they saw you with (the opposite sex will never just be 'a friend', but this is more believable if they are of a different ethnicity than you), and the passive-aggressive advice given to you to be obedient are meant to be accepted whole.

For our own good.

Quotes are from Elisabeth Gaskell's Ruth.

Watch: Malaysian NGO uncovers 8 misconceptions about polygamy

Where I grew up, polygamy was normalised through the actions, stories and tacit approval of the adults around me. Even though the negative side of having multiple wives were not ignored, there was no struggle for justice either. In retrospect, the apathy surrounding the women who were suffering is astounding.

A Malaysian NGO, Sisters in Islam (SIS), produced a short video illustrating the myths and realities around polygamy in Malaysia. From 2007 to 2012, the NGO carried out in-depth interviews with 63 respondents from polygamous families, on the impact that this marriage institution has in Malaysia. According to the information on their YouTube account:

"SIS hopes that the data gathered from our nationwide research on the impact of polygamy on families will prompt the relevant authorities to re-look and reform current Islamic Family Laws on polygamy in Malaysia."

[transcript below]

#1
People say... Polygamy is the undeniable right of a Muslim man.

In reality... Based on Surah An Nisa (Quran 4:3), polygamy is only allowed in order to protect the property and welfare of orphans whose fathers were killed in war.

#2
People say... Men practise polygamy to fulfill the sunnah (practice) of Prophet Muhammad.

In reality... 70% of husbands surveyed admitted to practising polygamy because of sexual attraction.

#3
People say... Co-wives tolerate polygamy for emotional and material reasons.

In reality... 42% of second wives work overtime to support household expenses.
32% were forced to contribute to expenses of the husband, his first wife and their children.
56% of husbands failed to provide sufficient nafkah (allowance), while some did not provide any allowance at all.

#4
People say... Only men with sufficient wealth practise polygamy.

In reality... Men who cannot afford to practise polygamy still do so.
70% of husbands interviewed earn MYR 3000 (USD 700) monthly or less.

#5
People say... Polygamous men divide their time fairly between their wives and children.

In reality... 50% of husbands do not discuss the distribution of time with their wives. (50% do.)
64% of first wives found that their husbands did not follow the arranged schedule.
42.5% of second wives and 77% of the first wife's children are unhappy with the arrangements.

#6
People say... Children do not mind their fathers being polygamous.

In reality... 87% of children interviewed find that polygamy has negatively affected their psychological wellbeing. Some fathers did not know to which wife a child belonged to. Some did not know the names, ages or birthdays of all of their children!
92% of children oppose polygamy because of their own experiences.

#7
People say... Polygamy brings happiness to husbands.

In reality... Husbands admit they suffer emotional stress due to time constraints, financial burdens and complaints from their wives and children.
47% of husbands work overtime and take on extra jobs.
50% admit that taking turns between houses is exhausting.

#8
People say... Malaysia's sharia family laws are fair in dealing with polygamy and family matters.

In reality... The laws are only ideal in theory; enforcement is extremely weak.
60% of first wives were not summoned to the Shariah Court to give their testimony on their husband's eligibility and capabilities for polygamy, before the judge granted a second marriage.
40% of polygamous marriages took place outside the country, mostly at the Thai border.
32% of those marriages did not register their marriages in Malaysia, thus neglecting the legal rights of the new wife and her children.

The Islamic Family Law Act 1984 states the requirements for a proposed [polygamous] marriage:

1. It must be both appropriate and necessary
2. Husband must be financially capable
3. Husband will treat all co-wives equally
4. It will not cause darar sharie (harm) to the existing wife/wives
5. It will not directly or indirectly lower the standard of living of existing wife/wives

However, the 1984 Act was amended in 1994. Husbands now no longer have to ensure that the standard of living of existing wife/wives remain the same (See #5 above).

In 2005, the 1984 Act was amended again to make polygamy easier for men. The proposed marriage only has to be appropriate OR necessary (See #1 above).

The 1984 requirements must be reinstated and strictly enforced. Polygamy should not bring happiness to only one party. The purpose of marriage is to create happiness between two people who love and feel compassion for one another (Quran 30:21).

And you will never be able to be equal between wives, even if you should strive [to do so]. So do not incline completely and leave another hanging. And if you amend and fear Allah - then indeed, Allah is ever Forgiving and Merciful. (Quran 4:129)

All data in this video was obtained from 'Impak poligami atas keluarga Muslim di semenanjung Malaysia' (2007-2012) [Impact of polygamy on Muslim families in Malaysia], a research collaboration between SIS and researchers from The National University of Malaysia (UKM), Malaysia Science University (USM) and Malaya University (UM).

With whiteness comes erasure.

I wish I could remember who wrote this. I would thank her or him profusely because when I read this, it resonated deeply with me. It was an articulation of feelings I had not been able to grasp; uncomfortable sentiments felt too often and so left no space for me to rationalise them away.

It's about being Brown and with someone White that renders you the Other. It's about White people universalising and imposing their life experiences in the 'noble' pursuit of assimilation and/or integration, so you never get to own and own and have pride in your childhood, your celebrations, your proverbs and your norms or traditions.

It's about having White people reiterating and reminding you of the 'freedom' they experience and that you are supposedly able to enjoy in their country. (They forget about anti-Brown or Black microaggressions, racism and violence, because they can't universalise something they don't experience).

It's about having a hybrid child who is part White and part Brown (never mind that he is descended more of Brown than White). A child who is seen to be a rich White charge when with his Brown mother and a poor saved Brown adoptee when with his White father.

It's about White people worrying that your child will not learn his White language if he goes to your country. Never mind that they never worried he wouldn't learn his Brown language in their country.

It's about having White people worry that your child will not be 'raised properly' amongst your Brown people. Perhaps too conservative or traditional or religious or backward or primitive or savage -- their worry has been the same for hundreds of years.

On trying to not be an anak derhaka.

(This actually started out as a Facebook post, and then I realised I had more to say)

Even though I was brought up to listen to authority, I now know that a well lived life is more than just being "obedient". As a child, I was told plainly to obey my parents and obey teachers. Presumably, this was to prepare me for life as a wife who should obey her husband. (That didn't go down well, obviously.) Obedience was prized as a mark of a good child and a good student - and in the context of Singapore, a good citizen.

At the root of this was love. We thought that if we obeyed well enough, we would be loved. But then when I was much older I realised that love should not be bartered for obedience, especially in a child. The ideal parent was supposed to be a benevolent dictator: the father and/or mother held power by virtue of being older/bigger/the parent, but s/he was supposed to exercise it with responsibility and kindness towards the child. So everything that the parent asked for was supposed to always be in the child's interest. 

But the saying "absolute power always corrupts absolutely" couldn't be truer in this case. When does this benevolent power stop its reign? According to what I was taught, for girls it was supposed to stop when you got married. Then you were passed over to your husband, who would be your guardian (in other words, for women it never stops).

The last four years have been life-changing for me in many ways. Moving to a new country by accident, getting married (multiple times), giving birth, raising a little boy, and another big life decision in the works. Along the way I have had to make many decisions which were not exactly the most popular ones, and faced a lot of backlash and drama for it. Soul-sucking, but I won't go down without a fight. 

Along the way I've learned strategies to deal with it: explanation, direct resistance and hiding (in that order). Unfortunately, the strategies don't always work out because there's always that cloud of anak derhaka (Malay, lit. unfilial/disobedient child) hanging over your head. At some point, you start to realise that this kind of power and control uses fear woven into cultural stories and myths.

The most important thing I learned is this: the worst thing is, in the name of obedience, to let someone else make decisions for your life that you regret and/or resent. If you want to do something for your life, whether mainstream or offbeat, then do it. Just take responsibility for it - that's good enough for me.

If you do something that someone else wants, and you think it's part of being obedient or a good child or whatever, then learn to own it or leave it. If you don't have the time, the money, or the physical and emotional energy to carry it out, then just don't do it. The martyr mentality really kills me: you do something because it's "the right thing" and then you totally find yourself in a rut or you totally hate it. Or you whine and make everyone else's life hell because your own life is hell. 

I don't want that for myself and I don't want to carry such baggage down to my own children. I don't want to teach them to suffer in the name of blind obedience. I want to teach them to make careful and balanced decisions, consulting me if they feel that I can help. It's my job to cultivate that connection with them so that they feel I can be someone they can turn to. No child is going to come running to their parents for love out of nowhere when the child-parent relationship has always been that of power and control.

I have been told I don't do what I am "asked to do". I have also been told I am "too educated" (a comment reserved exclusively for a woman, though I'm amazed to hear such a thing) because I ask questions and refuse to be bullied into life-changing decisions. 

Thank you, I take these as compliments. My life is more than the sum of other people's ideas. 

10 telltale signs you’re most probably a Muslim mother

1. You have a book of foolproof baby names.
The Qur’an contains about 30 names for boys, suitable for any parents or in-laws from an Abrahamic faith. There’s only one ready name for a girl, though, so maybe you can consult a book on Islamic history for more ideas.

2. Your healthcare professional is wondering why you’re whispering into your newborn’s ear.
It’s called the adhan, and if you’re lucky you’ll get to hold your newborn babe as soon as he/she is born and let your voice be the first thing he/she hears.

3. You say “alhamdulilah” probably 50 times a day.
If this comes involuntarily out of your mouth every time someone burps, farts or sneezes, then you’ll be doing a lot of this with a baby or several children around.

4. You are expected to put something sweet on your baby’s mouth, make them bald, and sacrifice an animal.
One tradition called tahnik involves placing dates or honey on the lips of a baby within the first seven days of life. Another tradition involves shaving hair of a baby (or the alternative: snip off just seven hairs) after 40 days, weigh it and donate an equivalent amount of gold to charity. Yet another called aqiqa calls for the slaughter of a goat or cow to express gratitude for the birth.

5. Piggy plush toys are a source of discussion.
Imagine this: a well-meaning non-Muslim colleague gives a friendly, furry, stuffed toy pig as a present. You actually have a conversation (with yourself or someone else) about whether it’s okay for your kid to play with it. If you decide it’s okay, you might still have to deal with other Muslims telling you that your child shouldn’t put the toy in his mouth.

6. A discussion about whether it’s okay to let your children see you naked must include fiqh and not just revolve around issues of body-image and self-esteem.
One mother wrote on the internet about how she lets her sons see her real post-baby body so that they grow up with realistic images about women’s bodies, instead of thinking that the airbrushed photos in magazines are real women. I figure that someone that has seen your insides can probably see your outsides without being too shocked. Besides, a discussion about which parts of the mother’s body is visually off limits to her son is way too Oedipal for me.

7. “It’s sunnah” becomes your stock answer for extended breastfeeding.
Even though a minimum of two years of breastfeeding is recommended by the World Health organisation, many in our parents’ generation who were influenced by the aggressive marketing of infant formula companies may try to stop you from breastfeeding your child beyond six months, or up to several years. Luckily if you’re Muslim, you can always say the Qur’an indicates 30 months for pregnancy and breastfeeding (46:15).

8. You have to deal with equal numbers of people telling you that you can or cannot fast while breastfeeding.
Opinions are pretty divided about whether a pregnant and/or breastfeeding mother should or shouldn’t be breastfeeding in Ramadan. Luckily, whether you fast or not is only up to you and your baby. Just listen to your body.

9. You worry that your kid gets ham sandwiches at the day care.
If you live in a non-predominantly Muslim community or country, a ham and cheese sandwich is a totally normal snack. Be sure you let your caregivers know what your child should eat – or pack it along when you drop her off.

10. You feel simultaneously terrified and hopeful about Islamophobia.
Parenting can be the most joyful and the most scary experience of your life. From the moment your children are born, your greatest fear will be losing them. While being Muslim after 9/11 has not been easy, you’re hopeful that your children will be the ones to change the world for the better.

--

This article was originally published on Aquila Style

When you're being chased out of Eid ul-Adha prayer because of a baby

Hope everyone is having/had a blessed Eid ul-Adha 1435.

This was the first year that I was not alone in the women's section of the mosque, since being married. I'm largely unmosqued, mostly because I hate going to a mosque and then having to be separated from the Dutchman - with the exception of the Tokyo Camii (Mosque), where we prayed side-by-side in one of the first rows. (Being a musafir or traveller can buy you a lot of leeway, just plead ignorance.)

I know I'm not alone in having this sort of separation anxiety. Many other couples made up of one partner who is not raised Muslim, may similarly feel anxious being handed over to the 'sisters' or 'brothers' (ie total strangers) in a completely different part of the mosque. (I mean, somehow total strangers can be more helpful just because they are of the same sex?) That being said, I'm very proud of the Dutchman for being able to hold his own among these 'brothers' (after I prep him on what to expect).

This month marks the fourth year I've been in the Netherlands, and also four years of this blog! (So much for the initial title, A year in NL). It's also the fourth year that I've been going to the Indonesian mosque in my town. It's three storeys high, and the main prayer space is on the second floor (there's a complimentary balcony for women). The first floor houses some classrooms and a kitchen.

Spot the complimentary balcony

As with many other mosques that make space for women, during big congregations like the two Eids, this mosque repurposes the first floor classrooms into special rooms for women and children. All men go into the main area space, while the female congregation is split into four different spaces: the (complimentary) balcony, two or three saff or rows in the main hall, and two rooms on the first floor: one for women with children, and one for women without children.

I've always been a big supporter for equal and equally decent prayer spaces, and ever since I saw the room labelled 'women with children' four years ago I've told myself, hell no. By putting all the children into one room, it becomes extremely chaotic because the children don't see the imam and learn how to carry themselves during a congregation. Nothing against the need for children to play and run around - in which case why confine them to a room with women trying to get the best of both worlds? Just set aside a room dedicated to fun and games, get a few adults to watch them and ta-da, everyone's a winner. (By the way, this arrangement is exactly what several mosques in Singapore organised during tarawih sessions in Ramadan earlier this year.)

I rave about this mosque because of the low wooden barrier (lower than waist-height) that seems to nominally demarcate the male and female praying spaces in the main hall. But this year, with little Nootje I had to face the attitudinal barriers head on.

When we arrive at the mosque a good 30 minutes before the Eid ul-Adha prayer is due to start, I wave off the Dutchman into the main entrance and I go round to the side entrance. I saunter up the stairs to the main area space, carrying Nootje in my arms. I find a spot near the door ( to make a quick exit if he starts bawling) in the front row, look around for the Dutchman in case I decide to pass Nootje over to him, and settle down.

The takbir is being chanted over a booming microphone, which freaks out Nootje a bit. He unusually lets me carry and rock him in my arms, hardly moving (very rare since he doesn't like being held unless we're walking or bouncing him) since he's an hour overdue for a morning nap - I have high hopes that he will zone out through the noise or maybe even fall asleep (a mum can dream can't she!).

There's a mother on my left, with a 1.5 or 2 year old girl in a pink dress, who is sitting quietly. Not five minutes pass when one of the women who is working today as an usher for all the congregants tell me that babies are not allowed in the main hall. I decide not to point out the toddlers in the men's area, who are shrieking. The mother beside me quietly sneaks away to the second row and her little girl almost melts into the pipes along the wall - she's just as stealth as her mum!

I have so much to tell this woman who's trying to chase me down to the vrouw met kinderen room. 

Did she know that God loves the laughter of children? That the Prophet would shorten the prayer if he heard children crying in the congregation? That the Prophet's original mosque was relaxed and inviting? That if families were so highly regarded in our religion, they should be able to sit and worship together in the mosque, which is meant to symbolise society? That asking me to leave the area because I was holding a baby made me feel like a baby is unclean, unholy and unworthy?

Instead of all that, I fumble out an answer in half Indonesian and half English and respond to her order as if it was posed to me as an option: it's okay, I'm staying here. She looks confused and tries her command again, this time in Dutch, stressing that "it's the rules". Another woman chips in with English, because I'm beginning to look like a right tourist who doesn't understand anything anyone is saying.

By this time, another mother has taken the empty space to my left, and she has two children: one looks about 6 or 7 and the other is older. She helpfully tries to encourage me into leaving ("This is the first time I'm here [in the main hall]. All these years I've been downstairs.") but this only makes me determined to not banish myself.

I simply shrug and smile to both women and assure them that I'm not taking extra space and that Nootje will be quiet. Mosque lady is not satisfied, but happily she moves away to usher more women downstairs as the main hall is filling up. Woman to my right is ambivalent, and no one comes to my support. Clock is ticking... ten more minutes to prayer. I continue rocking Nootje and whisper the takbir in his ear.

Finally! The prayer starts, and it's an exercise in balancing a 8kg weight while bowing and prostrating without putting any hands on the floor. Takbir seven times with one hand, and hope that the communal and extra loud "Ameen" doesn't startle Nootje. He doesn't mind the shift in orientation during the ruku', and I make an almost-there prostration with him right under me. 

After the prayer ends, he is looking super tired (nap is two hours overdue by now) so I pop out a boob under my hijab to feed him. He contentedly nurses to sleep and I get to listen to 15 minutes of the sermon. And no one seems to mind the two toddlers running around in the men's section during the prayer. (The section which, by the way, had two extra rows free, which could have been filled up with women.)

The imam tells us the story of how when God created Adam, God told all the malaikat (angels) to prostrate to the first human being. They all did so, except Iblis. Iblis believed that being created from fire was better than being created from clay. Because Iblis disbelieved, he was sent out of Paradise for his arrogance (7:11-18).

(Side note: I'm often quoted this story from the Qur'an by those who think that whatever I write or post is controversial, or that I'm being arrogant and stepping over my God-given womanly boundaries, whatever those may be. Essentially, likening me to Iblis... stay classy, guys.)

But I love how the imam interprets this story. To him, the moral of the this parable is that even though God creates beings from clay, fire and light, all the creations lived in Paradise together. While we humans, all made out of earth and are all flesh and blood, can't even live together on Earth. 

Post-sermon selfie

Circumcision: Choice Not Coercion

This post was originally published on Aquila Style on 25 Nov 2013

--

Circumcision keeps a man clean, neat and healthy, right? As it turns out, however, not every guy who was circumcised at a young age is happy with what he’s got left. These stories of regret (and anger) surface sporadically from two communities that routinely circumcise newborn or young boys for religious reasons (Muslims and Jews),[i] as well as from a country that does it for primarily health reasons (the United States).

Discussions by Muslims around circumcision usually centre around male circumcision. This is perhaps not surprising, since in many Muslim communities (Indonesia, Turkey and Morocco, for example) a huge party or feast is organised around the boy who is soon to be a man. In Singapore, it used to be the norm to circumcise a boy just before puberty (a tradition carried over from Javanese migrants) and have a big celebration. This norm has lost favour over having the procedure done discreetly at younger and younger ages, sometimes before the baby has even left the hospital at a day old.

But what is the difference between male and female circumcision? Although female circumcision might be more accurately called female genital cutting since it ranges from a prick on the clitoral hood to a complete removal of the clitoris and inner labia,[ii] I retain the term “circumcision” because in many Muslim communities it is referred to with the same word, sunat or khitan, as male circumcision. Just like female circumcision, there are different types of male circumcision done at different times (newborn, toddler, prepubescence) and for different reasons (aesthetics, phimosis, infection, religious tradition).

In this article I refer only to non-therapeutic (ie, done without medical reasons) circumcision done on boys and girls before they reach the age of majority (ie, ranging from newborns to teenagers).

Religious justifications

The religious sources often cited to justify male circumcision are also the same ones used to justify female circumcision. These sources include a verse from the Qur’an accompanied by two hadith, as the verse alone does not exactly refer to the act of circumcision.

The Qur’anic verse often quoted is 3:95, which tells us to follow in the millah, or the way of Prophet Abraham (the verse later explains that we are to follow his monotheistic beliefs). The two most cited hadith are one that reports that Prophet Abraham circumcised himself at the age of 80,[iii] and another that includes circumcision as one of “five acts of fitra”[iv] (but is the only irreversible act among the other four acts of personal hygiene).
The four other acts of personal hygiene are removing pubic hair, plucking or shaving the armpit hair, trimming the moustache, and clipping the nails.

Muslims who are against female circumcision also use the same hadith to justify why girls should not be cut. For example, a representative of the Egyptian mufti has stated that female circumcision has only social roots, not religious ones.[v]

It is also important to point out that circumcision is seen as a purely religious topic (sometimes explained together with health reasons), and anyone who attempts to discuss this topic will have their authority questioned. In other words, unless you’re a (male) Islamic scholar, it’s going to be difficult to be taken seriously.

Dr Sami Aldeeb Abu-Sahlieh, a Palestinian-American lawyer, has written extensively on this topic, pondering the question of why discussions around circumcision remain gendered. He argues that the texts used to promote circumcision among Muslims (which are virtually always the same) are in fact gender neutral, making the issue more about political agendas rather than religion.[vi]

Circumcision is seen as harmless, or even beneficial in many Muslim communities

Both male and female circumcision cut parts of the genital organ that have similar roles; both the male foreskin and the female clitoral hood serve to protect a spot on the human body with the highest concentration of nerves. Each area also plays an important part in sexual arousal and satisfaction: the male glans and the female clitoris. Both procedures also privilege the parents’ religious identity over the child’s capacity to shape their own future.

However, news of female circumcision, especially when coming from the so-called “barbaric” Muslim world,[vii] is more apt to make headlines – especially when something has gone wrong.[viii] Botched male circumcisions, though, hardly make the mainstream news, even though there are often reports of a boy dying from complications from their non-therapeutic circumcision.[ix]

Underlying assumptions

But I don’t want to compare the degree and extent of harm being done to boys and girls all over the world. Such comparisons often lead to defensive attitudes, because one’s cultural and religious identity becomes encapsulated in the tradition of circumcision, which is then pitted against modernity, Western international organisations, or other cultures.

Arguments about the physical harm done to boys and girls may also not convince everyone, because the procedure is seen as harmless, or even beneficial in many Muslim communities. That many baby boys cry only shortly after the procedure is interpreted as sign of little or no pain (and the procedure’s harmlessness); however, medical studies show that it is a sign of neurological shutdown from severe shock.[x] For many prepubescent boys, it is a rite of passage or a chance to feel like a “tough hero”.[xi] For girls, however, the belief is quite different: they need to be purified or else they will become “wild”.[xii]

Religious and health arguments obscure the more important issues of giving consent, and imposing control

Religious or health reasons also reveal our own assumptions about our body as God’s creation. God tells us that we were created in “the best of moulds” (95:4). But proponents of circumcision believe that all foreskins – not only those in need of medical attention – are inherently impure, no matter how much physical or spiritual purification is done. The only solution is to permanently remove it. What does it say about our belief in God if we think we are created imperfect and thus in need of a corrective procedure?

Consent and control

I think that religious and health arguments obscure the more important issues of giving consent, and imposing control over a child’s body. I don’t doubt that parents wish the best for their children, and that they are always looking out for their children’s best moral and physical interests. However, it is one thing to dress a child in a kufi or hijab, but quite another to irreversibly change their body without any medical reasons. We might recoil in horror to see a toddler seemingly being given a tattoo,[xiii] but how do we react to a toddler being circumcised?

I will not circumcise my son when he is a day old, a month old, or even 10 years old. It’s not because I am discarding a sunnah or tradition; it’s because I see circumcision as an optional act that a fully cognisant adult should undertake if she or he believes that it will help him or her become a better Muslim. By not circumcising my child before he can fully understand what it means to be a Muslim, I am leaving the way open for him to choose what he wants to do – because as parents we can only guide but we cannot force our children to believe (11:42-43). I want to raise him to have good values, and I’m not sure what kind of values a physical act like circumcision will impart.

Men are allowed to be scared, and it doesn’t make them any less Muslim

There are actually many Muslim men walking around with perfectly clean, intact penises. Just like women (cut or not), they must regularly wash themselves to keep clean, for hygiene is a part of everyday life. When people argue about the obligatory nature of male circumcision, they are often not talking about grown men. In fact, there is much leeway when it comes to the circumcision of adult men – acknowledging their fear or uncertainty.[xiv] Men are allowed to be scared, and it doesn’t make them any less Muslim.

There are Muslim women and men who have chosen circumcision for their own conscience and belief. I fully support their ability and right to decide for themselves – just as I support those who decide as adults not to do so, for whatever reason, because there is no compulsion in religion (2:256).

As for children who are supposed to be under our protection, I pray that we can support their right as Muslims to choose too – just like Prophet Abraham was allowed to choose to believe.

References

[i] See for example, ‘A young Singaporean Muslim: I am now against circumcision’ available here

[ii] ‘Classification of female genital mutilation’, World Health Organisation, available here 

[iii] Narrated by Abu Huraira, in Bukhari, available here

[iv] Narrated by Abu Huraira, in Muslim, available here

[v] ‘Mufti’s deputy reiterates: Female circumcision prohibited by religion’, Egypt Independent, 23 Jun 2013, available here

[vi] See for example, the article ‘No distinction between male and female circumcision’ here or the book Legitimisation of Male and Female Circumcision here

[vii] Rebecca Steinfeld, ‘Like FGM, cut foreskins should be a feminist issue’, The Conversation, 18 Nov 2013, available here

[viii] Sara C Nelson, ‘Soher Ebrahim Egyptian girl, 13, dies after illegal female genital mutilation’, 10 Jun 2013, available here

[ix] For example, seven botched circumcisions in Saudi Arabia caused injuries and hospitalisation, available here. See also the hospitalisation of a three-year-old Indonesian boy with haemophilia here, and the deaths of two Indian toddlers here

[x] See medical studies by Brady-Fryer, Wiebe and Lander (2004) available here, or Williamson and Evans (1986) available here

[xi] Shahnawaz Abdul Hamid, ‘Circumcision in Islam: a meaningless tradition worth discarding?”, Muzlimbuzz.sg, 11 Nov 2013, available here

[xii] Sya Taha, ‘A tiny cut: female circumcision in Southeast Asia’, The Islamic Monthly, 12 Mar 2013, available here

[xiii] Maria Vultaggio, ‘’Tattoo forced on toddler by mother’ video goes viral; but is it a hoax?’, International Business Times, 29 Jan 2013, available here

[xiv] See sources cited in ‘Considering converting: is it necessary to be circumcised?’, available here

Little Hijabis: To Wear Or Not To Wear?

This article was first published in Muslimah Media Watch on 4 Oct 2013.

Recently, a series of online shopping sites were brought to my attention: at first glance, they seemed to be the garden-variety online hijab shops. Some even had blanked-out faces – again, nothing that I hadn’t seen before. However upon a closer inspection, I noticed that the hijabi models on the website were smaller than usual – they were little girls.

My immediate reaction was that of uneasiness. Even though in Singapore where I grew up, it is common for parents to dress their pre-pubescent daughters in hijab (as young as just one year old), I only recently found out that it’s not the norm in other countries with Muslim communities. I myself wore it to kindergarten at the age of five, and I remember wearing it during Eid at the age of seven onwards. My mother thought it was harmless and she never forced it on me because she thought it would be better for me to get used to it in the most pleasant way possible.

It was only when I travelled to Morocco about five years ago, where I met young girls who were allowed to wear anything they wanted, and it was only after reaching puberty that they would usually wear a hijab when leaving the house. This made sense to me, because even the most oft-cited hadith that provides the guidelines for hijab mentions menstruation, or puberty, as the starting point.

However, I could also understand why parents would want their young daughters to start wearing hijab or cover up at an early age, even though this was not a religious requirement. The reason usually given is that it is easier to make them get used to wearing it. I even heard one of my aunts suggest that parents should dress their girl infants with headbands so that they would get used to having something on their head, which would make wearing hijab easier later on.

This forced socialization has its drawbacks, for example, when girls are old enough to question why they have to wear the hijab. In fact, this was exactly the question posed to me by a nine-year-old girl, who had come to the mosque where I volunteered by giving tours, as part of her weekend religious class activities.

Because women (she was not a woman) have to cover up their beauty (‘beauty’ as a euphemism for sexual appeal) in the presence of men they are not related to (is mahramrelevant for a child?) and can only show it to men she is related to, like her husband (she was decades away from having one): all my stock answers simply fell short of satisfying her innocent curiosity.

This little girl’s question eventually led me to a long journey of researching about hijab, especially for myself.

Another concern I have with making little girls wear hijab is that it is prematurely socializing them into worrying about their looks, especially in the context of the male gaze. Take a look at the models on some of these online shops:

Source: Little Zee

Source: KidsMii

Some of these outfits are too complicated (not to mention impractical in hot weather) for these girls to be doing everything they would want to go, like playing freely outside.

Another common reason given for dressing little girls modestly is that it counters the sexualized girl outfits that come from “the West”. I agree that these shops provide some very lovely and simple alternatives, with no glittery slogans like “Cutie Pie” emblazoned across the chest.

But hijab sexualizes its wearer in its own way, because in a social setting it indicates that the wearer has the ability to give off sexual appeal in the first place. (Sometimes at a glance, it can even make the wearer look older than she really is.) One of the shops even showcases a fashion runway of young girls in various styles of hijab and clothes that cover all their limbs – what’s the difference, exactly?

I truly believe in wearing the hijab for spiritual reasons. I also acknowledge that hijab has social reasons, for which some women wear it as well. The bottom line is, the informed decisions that grown women make, with their own research and knowledge, is something to laud. But let’s allow our children to choose for themselves when they are old enough.

"A tiny cut": Female circumcision in Southeast Asia

Cross-posted at Muslimah Media Watch.
--
I once asked my mother why boys had to be circumcised, but girls weren't. Growing up in the 1990s, it was more common for boys to be circumcised at the age of 7 or 9, where it resembled more of a rite of passage. They were not allowed to eat certain foods, had to wear a kain sarong for less discomfort, and had to be fanned at night to keep dry. My mother said to me that it wasn't compulsory for girls, and anyway, the procedure was just "a tiny cut" -- something that she felt was negligible, unnoticeable, and probably not a big deal if it wasn't done.

Recenlty, photographs taken by Stephanie Sinclair of a mass sunat perempuan (female circumcision) ceremony in Bandung, Indonesia, in 2006 and published in 2008, surfaced again late last year. The ceremony that Sinclair attended was organised and sponsored by Yayasan Assalaam Bandung, a foundation that provides Islamic education and social welfare services. Yayasan Assalaam sees itself to be an open, inclusive, moderate, and dynamic organisation.

I called my mother and asked her if she had been circumcised, or if my sister and I had been. She said that she was, and my sister too. I asked her to elaborate on the extent of the circumcision. She explained that at the age of one or two weeks (around the time when the umbilical cord heals), she had had her clitoral hood snipped at the tip (to make it flat instead of hanging over and covering the clitoris), while my sister had a different procedure -- her clitoral hood was scraped. She explained that this was the trend by the time my sister was born in the 1980s.

Via New York Times

Both of these procedures had been done by a mak bidan, or post-partum midwife whose role is to help mothers to help mothers with their babies and also get back into shape after a natural birth with the use of tummy wraps, herbal drinks, herbal applications, massage, and bathing of the newborn baby. One day when the mak bidan was bathing my sister, she announced to my mother that my sister's circumcision had been effectuated.

When my mother was growing up, there was a lot of mystery surrounding the practice. Coupled with the certainty of being ridiculed for asking questions, this practice was passed down quietly and without protest. It was "just tradition". The experiences that my mother had described to me was consistent with what I had read. In the province of Satun in South Thailand, the bidan has the "exclusive authority to perform female circumcision and reject the idea of this operation ever passing into the hands of medical personnel" for physical and ritual/religious reasons. In Indonesia, traditional circumcisers say they "learn the practice from other women during several years of apprenticing."

While there is a large debate on female genital cutting in Africa, the literature on these practices in Asia is sparse. In Malaysia, a university survey of 1000 respondents found that over 90% of Muslim women reported being circumcised. In Indonesia, the figure is upwards of 86%, with 90% of adults supporting it. In her study "Sunat for girls in southern Thailand", Claudia Merli (2008) applies the same description to the province of Satun, because of cultural and regional proximity to Malaysia and Indonesia. However, in Singapore, based on anecdotal evidence, the different economic circumstances probably means that the incidence of female circumcision is very, very low.

Via New York Times

Some of the reasons given for female circumcision are to be "clean", to "purify the genitals and bestow gender identity", to "control women's sexual urges", because they can only be beautiful if chaste, and help them not be "as wild", which will "make men more excited in bed". In Singapore, some of the older generation do point out that the reason that some young women are "wild" today is because they are not circumcised. Some also point out that there is not much harm because of the very small amount of flesh removed (described as the size of a quarter-grain of rice, a guava seed, a bean, the tip of a leaf, or the head of a needle), and the importance of supposedly avoiding the clitoris. Merli (2008) gathered a testimonial from Wati, a villager from Satun on her decision-making process:

She had discussed the topic of sunat with a man well versed in Islamic law who had not let his own daughter be circumcised, claiming that the practice is neither necessary nor compulsory because it is not mentioned in the Koran. Despite this conversation, Wati and her husband decided to follow the local tradition, with a sense of pressure coming from other villagers, whose disapproval they wanted to avoid.

The local bidan was not taken on as she was ill-famed for cutting away “too much,” some even said the whole clitoris. Another bidan was summoned from another location.

Worryingly, there seems to be a trend towards institutionalising and medicalising this practice in the contemporary era (even for cosmetic purposes!). Merli (2008) noted that the trend towards medicalisation was worrying because while it may reduce the girls from struggling, it would also allow a deeper excision, a practice that was being promoted in the village by some missionaries from India. In Malaysia, the Fatwa Committee of Malaysia's National Council of Islamic Religious Affairs ruled in 2009 that female circumcision,  was "obligatory for Muslims but if harmful must be avoided".

More recently, in Indonesia, the Indonesian Council of Ulema ruled in favour of female circumcision and added that although it can not be considered mandatory, it is still "morally recommended". The leader of this council, Kiai Hajj Amin Ma'ruf, however warned to avoid "excesses" in the removal or cutting of the clitoris -- a position supported by several hadith. 

In late 2006, the Ministry of Health in Indonesia banned doctors from performing it on the grounds that it was "potentially harmful", but this ban was not enforced. Hospitals continued to offer sunat perempuan for baby girls, sometimes as part of "birth packages" (which include vaccinations and ear piercing).Yayasan Assalaam also links the practice to celebrating the birthday of Prophet Muhammad, and even provides incentives like money and food to the parents who bring their daughters to their annual ceremony.

Via New York Times

Local explanations for female circumcision centre around the lack of harm that it does to the girl, and that it indeed has positive benefits. However, anecdotal evidence includes pain while passing urine, or desensitivity of the clitoris and reduced ability for sexual pleasure. In any case, these explanations are situated in a web of political, social, and economic phenomena: preserving one's Muslim identity by ensuring that the practice will continue through law and medical justification (as male circumcision has become), controlling the sexual urges of girls in the light of increasing teenage pregnancies, and the influence of Wahhabi or Salafist elements on Islam in Southeast Asia.

The target audience in this debate are not the midwives or the medical practitioners, but the attitudes of parents vis-a-vis their daughters' sexual and physical health.

I asked my mother if I had been circumcised. She said I wasn't, because by then the mak bidan was nowhere to be found. She had come over from Malaysia through family contacts for my mother's post-partum birth rituals, and she was part of a dying trade in an economically-growing Singapore.

"Why didn't you ensure that I was circumcised?"
"It's a sunnah anyway, it's not that important."

For some, defining female circumcision as “a tiny cut” means it is considered “harmless.” I can only say I am glad that my mother felt that this “tiny cut” was equally “harmless” if not done.

4 Tips to be an Extraordinary Husband.

Disclaimer: Tips 1 to 3 are sarcastic. But you can take Tip 4 at face value :)

Another cartoon that's been making rounds on Facebook. It's often reposted by women because it addresses men (when household advice usually addresses women) and especially how men can be Extraordinary Husbands! A translation in English below:

My Home, My Paradise 

The main factor that shapes the Muslim family or household is the husband and wife. Households must be built upon firm piety -- that is, making God as the aim and the main goal. That's the difference between an ordinary household and an extraordinary household.

1. Ordinarily a husband... Merely provides physical sustenance (food and drink). The main responsibility for providing knowledge and religious education is neglected.

An extraordinary husband...Takes care of the daily needs of his family members, and prioritises providing knowledge and religious education. 

2. Ordinarily a husband...Quickly lashes out when his wife or children make mistakes. Or they let them do whatever they want, without caring for right or wrong.  

An extraordinary husband...When wife or children make mistakes, he gives guidance in correcting the mistake. He knows they made mistakes because of their shallow knowledge, lack of guidance, neglect, or selfish desires/appetites. 

3. Ordinarily a husband...Completely surrenders all household tasks to his wife even though he knows that his wife is tired from also working. For him, housework is women's work.  

An extraordinary husband...Always gives support to his wife in household tasks, her career and the children in order to seek God's pleasure. Doing housework is one of the most important jobs for a mother, to produce future leaders that fear and love God.

4. Ordinarily a husband...Likes to look at other women in the workplace or outside the home. That's why there are many cases of cheating husbands. Causing chaos in the household.  

An extraordinary husband...Holds tightly to God's warning to not to look at other women. That is, not just looking, but also not giving attention or feelings to other women. His heart is then only for his wife. This is how a household becomes peaceful.

At a first glance, it sounds great right? Finally, it's not all about women and their modesty! But yeah, sometimes you fall out of the frying pan and into the fire. I read somewhere that "Islam honours women" and "Islam hates women" are just two sides of the same coin. So while this cartoon initially looks like it promotes 'extraordinary' fatherhood, husbandhood and general manhood, it mostly still reproduces the same normative ideas around gender (women, men) and age (parents, children).

1. Provide not only financial maintenance, but also immense religious knowledge and education. 

Yeah... sometimes men don't even manage to fulfill that first requirement, what with the amount of money that Malay society demands of men. (Yes guys, I'm being understanding towards you.) After paying the brideprice which can run above ten thousand of dollars (according to the wife's educational level), the wedding reception, and if you want to make it strictly "Islamic" then he should also pay for the house, the car, her clothes, her food, her shopping, and everything for the children.

This was perhaps true in my parents generation, but this might not be realistic for everyone in today's economic circumstances. The reality is often that the couple both work and contribute towards household expenses. And not all women want to always have everything paid for -- don't want to feel like we're on social security handouts here.

As for the religious knowledge, like everything else, that's also a two-way street in marriage. But it's often men who are made out to be the glorious providers of everything including education. Newsflash: men are human beings, with imperfect knowledge. This also clashes with the dominant idea that the wife should be super pious; because then she should be teaching everyone in the family instead. This norm also has a racial bent to it: only local men can lead local women. Foreign men? Only Arabs or bearded men can be taken seriously as teachers, white men can only hope to be guided by their (local) wife instead.

Alternative! Both wife and husband provide financial maintenance to the household and for the children, with the one earning more contributing proportionally more. Feel free to give each other gifts (tangible or intangible) on special occasions, or just for the heck of it because you love each other! Both should have religious knowledge or seeking it together, and teach each other and their children, who can see what good role models their parents are.

2. Be kind to those who are inferior to you.

Wow -- this one made my jaw drop. Firstly, there is no indication that husbands can (gasp) make mistakes. And the advice to him to not lose his temper is only because he should be thinking about how inferior his wife and children are to him. It's like telling the white man he should be kind to his black slave because the latter is too stupid to know better! This is a great example of how NOT to show respect to your family members.

Yes, husbands should not lose their tempers over small things. But they should also not maintain their cool because of feelings of superiority.

Alternative! Feel free to hit the roof when it's your fault that something serious happens e.g. you smashed the car. For all other reasons, talk it out and listen to the other person. Come to an agreement together and enforce it. Be humble and be ready to accept criticism of your own shortcomings. Respect your wife and children as other human beings and treat them like how you would like to be treated (yeah, women want respect too, not just love). Maybe then they can love you back!

3. Assist your wife in housework because this is her most important job.

I must admit I was disappointed with this one, because it started out so good ("support his wife in housework, career and children") but ended so typical ("because housework is the most important task for a mother"). Assistance implies that the husband is not taking ownership of the tasks. So if his wife is not around to say what should be done, perhaps he wouldn't (or couldn't) know what to do. 

And children are the product of both parents -- a husband should be the best father he can be. Often women are burdened with childcare in its entirety simply because they give birth and breastfeed. But there are also a million other tasks that have nothing to do with the female body -- it just requires any human body. One could also argue that if men are so macho and strong they could also offer to do the dirty and dangerous jobs in the house.

Alternative! Both wife and husband are responsible for certain tasks. Feel free to try out all possible household tasks so that in case one partner is sick or absent, the other can cover. Both should know how to cook, de-clog sinks, work the washing machine, and change diapers. Feel free to swap tasks or reassess them on the basis of time, physical ability or effectiveness. Do also feel free to do some tasks of the other person  because you love each other!

4. Keep your heart only for your wife.

Not all men talk to women with the sole purpose of ogling or flirting with them. Come on, give these guys some credit for being able to respect other people too. I don't think it's very productive to categorise this as 'ordinary' behaviour because it lowers the standards. 

However, I do 100% agree that his heart should only be for his wife! :) But merely not cheating on your wife is not enough -- there needs to be lots of work before a household and a marriage becomes successful, inshallah!

Alternative! None. This advice is pretty good by itself :) Just remember that it's not enough that we don't do bad things, we have to do some good things too!

What are you imitating?

I've been trawling through a lot of Islamic cartoons lately, as research for an article I wrote some time ago on the gendered messages in them. I found this cute little gem:

Panel 1 of this cartoon reminded me of a religious class I once attended, based on a book by Imam Nawawi called 'Al-Maqasid'. Because the word maqasid had been translated to as 'what was necessary to know', I thought I would be learning about the Quranic fundamentals of Islam (I was just getting into studying sources and original references then). Silly me.

Putting aside frustrating moments of insisting that the female students in the class should be allowed to read out loud from the book, I still remember fondly the class where chapter on taharah, or purity, was discussed.

The teacher (kept anonymous, obviously!) pointed out a recommendation from the book for us to take wudu' just after waking up. Similar to this cute little cartoon above, right? I asked him if there was any reason given for doing so. I was expecting some practical reason about how we were going to pray fajr anyway or a spiritual reason like refreshing ourselves, so imagine my shock when he recounted to me this instead:

"I read in some narrations that, upon hearing the words of the Prophet: "If one of you awaken from sleep, then he should not dip his hand in a container unless he washes his hand because he does not know where it was while he was sleeping," an innovator said: "I know where my hands went while in bed, so I do not have to fulfill this command!" 

Consequently, upon waking up the next morning, his hand - up to the forearm - was found inserted into his anus." ['Bustan al-'Arifin' by an-Nawawi; p. 94]

The reason for morning ablution was because some guy a long time ago woke up with his hand in his anus? If there was ever a mockery of religious education, this would pretty much win hands down, I think. While sitting in that class, I was thinking: these are the valuable gems he learned from scholars in Yemen?

[Digression: Interestingly enough, the source to the story above is one of many other stories used to illustrate the bad things that will happen to you if you don't blindly follow what the Prophet (supposedly) said. Which brings us to Panel 3 below.]

Panel 2 reminded me of an issue that I wrote about elsewhere, on (mis)using the verses of the Quran as a magical protective spell, instead of unleashing the magic of human potential when we actually strive towards Quranic ideals of social justice.

Panel 3 led me to think of the many discussions I've had about what exactly it is about the Prophet that we follow. Another teacher in some other class I used to attend used to say that he used miswak everyday (not sure if it was a replacement for or an alternative to his modern Western plastic toothbrush) and he would not feel confident about leaving the house if he didn't.

At seminars I used to see Malay men who had gone to study in Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Saudi Arabia, and upon coming back would start wearing triangular turbans, eyeliner, and thobes with various kinds of shawls over their shoulder -- the reason being that the Prophet dressed like this. And if we dress like this, or eat like him with 3 fingers, or sleep on-the-right-side-with-hand-under-cheek we'll get points!

I find it hard to understand how imitating the Prophet's daily habits = following his way of life. Surely it's to be compassionate to the old and the young (and even carry children during prayer!), to listen to all his followers, to be humble and not extravagant whether in consumption or in demeanour, to be kind to all his neighbours Muslim and non-Muslim -- in short, to live by the ideals set out in the Quran, the word of God.

Anyone seen any cartoons addressing these ideals instead?