Why Muslim women ought to question their faith as regards to their individual liberties; Part 3 of 3.

Continued from Part 2................

Today, I am a 32 year old and married to a non-Muslim. I have two lovely little munchkins and jolly-happy in my marriage. However, it has not been easy and I am yet to reach my destination. It has not been easy because, though they have sort of cut me off, they have never completely left me alone.

I remember when my hubby proposed, I confided in my sister, (who was living abroad), that I had met my soul mate and that I did not care he was not Muslim. I confided in her because I though she would be better placed in understanding that these things happen. Girl meets boy, girl is swept off her feet and she falls in love with his personality, not caring what religion he belonged to. Boy was I wrong! The first thing my sister asked me was 'who is he?' meaning 'what religion/color/creed'? The only answer I could find was 'he is like me'.

Obviously she couldn't comprehend what I was on about. So I told her he was mixed race, half Kikuyu half Austrian and that he is British too. None of it mattered to me because he was a child of the world and I was madly and deeply in love.

My sister fell short of telling me to dump him. Then she called back and said that I should have him convert to Islam first. I said no. I am sure you can imagine how the rest played out. The news reached my mother and she showed up at my work place for some confrontation. With a few glares from my co-workers, lets just say that it was quite a scene.

Long story short, she begged me not to marry him, she threatened that she will never speak to me. She threatened to curse any offspring that would come from such a union. I deafened my ears, grew an even thicker skin and married the love of my life.

Though we are in the same country I have not spoken to my mother in years. But because she is my mother, and I still love her, from time to time, I call my younger sisters to find out if she is okay. She still refuses to acknowledge my choice. She has even once called my little girl 'haram'. which loosely translated means 'unclean/forbidden'. That is her granddaughter, beautiful little thing who would never understand what the fuss is all about.

My bubbly baby girl is not haram to me. She is an intelligent four year old who fills my day with laughter and little smart remarks. My little girl is pure spirit, uncorrupted and free.

Because of these choices I have made, I have also had my share of anonymous death threats and direct threats from close family. Phone calls full of abusive language, vile and hatred. Because of these choices, I have had to change my number a couple of times. A caller said to me "You are the one who married the enemy, lets see if that enemy protects you when the wrath of Allah showers upon you". The police traced the caller's cell number to my home town. 

My loving and devoted husband is everything but the enemy. Whose enemy anyway? He loves me and would give his life for me, that is a fact. So who are you to tell me about what enemy?

Mine is a continuous battle. Battling both the self and those around me. I am not there yet. But with time and a few more thick skin,  I will get there. Just to ensure the pure uncorrupted spirit of my kids is maintained until they reach an age to make their own choices.

Why Muslim women ought to question their faith as regards to their individual liberties; Part 2 of 3.

Like everyone else I am bound to have an opinion about the terrorist attack at Nairobi's Westgate mall that brought Kenya to its knees. I do, and strong opinions indeed. What happened in there, the slaughtering of innocent children, women and loving fathers, is still fresh in my mind.

But first let me get the sequel of the previous story out of the way.

I sort of believe the two are somewhat linked. I believe its upon every Muslim to seriously question their own faith, if that faith by extension, is used by heartless criminal terrorists to front an agenda that threatens the very fabric of humanity.

Why every Muslim woman ought to fight an internal battle to free herself from those that abuse her rights, in the name of religion, is my focus for now. I am on the journey of my own freedom. I have made a few choices that are not so popular among the 'righteous' and ''pious' sheiks of my time.

The background to why I feel women need to this, is motivated largely by what happened to me growing up as a Muslim/Somali child. In the previous article, I stated my stand on things Muslim and Islam and I justified this stand by the chronicles of my own experiences.

When I finished high school, I joined Journalism school. By now, I was beginning to gain more confidence in speaking my mind. I studied hard and by the end of my three years in college, I was a total rebel.

 As soon as I got my first job, I announced to my family I had plans to move out and live on my own. In the secular world, this is another step in one's path of life. But not in a Muslim/Somali house. No, no.

This move elicited all manner of hostility both from my family and the community at large. You see, it is unheard of, for an unmarried Muslim woman to want to live alone. In fact, it was widely assumed that the only thing that would motivate a woman to leave her parent's dwellings before getting married, was for the  'freedom to fornicate'. I know, such an absurd mentality right? That mentality, by the way, is alive in every closed society. Ask the Indians they know a little thing or two about it.

In approaching my family with this 'unheard of' idea, I believe I used the most diplomatic means to negotiate why I needed to move. I explained to my family that I just wanted to decide my own fate. I just wanted to figure things out on my own.

They were unreceptive, in fact, utterly hostile to the idea. To an extend where a clan meeting was called to 'tame' me. I was beaten, tied up and monitored whenever I stepped out to go the shop.

When they couldn't 'tame' me by this, they performed a cleansing ritual on me. This entailed, reading the Qoran so loudly in my ear, to 'exorcise' me of evil spirits. This also entailed some more Sheiks lashing me in pretext of lashing the 'djinn' in me. To the Sheikh, and by extension anyone who believed there was a 'djinn' in me, they were not whipping me, but the 'djinn' inside me. However, the bruises were on my body and not on the djinn's.

When they were finished, I stood my ground and went on with my plans. Instead of 'taming' me what these did for me was, to thrust me further into my quest. I had had enough of being told what to do, how to dress, who to talk to and who not talk to. I wanted to make the choice of what I wanted, how I wanted and in whatever manner or form I wanted it in.

Thus began the journey of my freedom. I was 22 at the time. So for 10 years, I have been dressing in denim, drinking my wine and smoking my cigarettes. I do not regret one bit that I made this choice for myself. I believe that such choices should not be taken away from any woman.

 If one chooses not do these things; then that in itself is the freedom to choose to or not do, which is entirely being decided by one's self, and not by someone else's interpretation of 'how you ought to behave'.

To be continued................

Why Muslim women ought to question their faith as regards to their individual liberties; Part 1 of 3.

This article is not meant to offend anyone. It is meant to evoke free thinking and open mindedness towards the role of religion in a modern society.

I am fully aware this post is likely to elicit a lot of controversy. But I don't care. I have developed a thick skin over the years. Hence the name of my blog, it is my life, sue me. Or read on.

Before I introduce myself let me begin by saying that, I have BIG issues with collective thinking. The kind of collective thinking that comes with religion. Although the degree differs, most religions have no individualism. It is always a set of rules, laid down by doctrines, that everyone is supposed to follow collectively.

The way I see it, if you were supposed to think for me, you would probably be carrying an extra brain (my brain), in your head, while I will be walking with an empty skull. My point? There is a reason why every individual has a brain dancing inside their skull. Think for your self!

Now, don't get your knickers in a twist, I will let you know what am on about in a minute. Some issues just have to confronted head on. No more hiding behind the camera, no more politically correctness. So here goes:-

My beef

My beef; or whatever you want to call it, is with the treatment of women in Islam. I am particularly miffed by the way an African Muslim woman's life is directed - from the time she says "gah gah" in baby talk - like some kind of screenplay. I, for one, would like to see more Muslim women coming out and saying "bullocks" to the way they are expected to behave.

In fact, my way of thinking borders near that of Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Remember her? the anti-Muslim atheist who shocked the world with her somewhat gobby rhetorics of anti-Islam. I agree with her. Not entirely but to some extent.

I do not agree that any religion whatsoever that suppresses individual freedoms of whatever nature, should be celebrated. Though she is a bit of a radical, I do admire Ayaan's insurmountable bravery in standing up for what she believes in. She inspires me and ignites a fire in me to fight oppression. In my own little way.

The history behind it

Like Ayaan, I was born to a Somali-Muslim community, was circumcised at the age of six and have been told what to do for all of my childhood. So I know a few things about unjust treatment. To make my point I will give a few examples of my own struggles, if not for any other reason to confirm that, Ayaan is not the only woman - born Muslim - who thinks there is something wrong with Islam's way of 'picking' on women.

At a very early age, I became aware of the belittlement towards women in my community/religion. There were various times I asked myself why people - especially men - looked down upon the girl child. Why the boy child could get away with mischief while the girl child could not so much as just be a child. There were several instances of my own childhood but a few stuck in my mind.

I was 10 years old when one day I came home from school and I found a local Sheik sat with my parents, telling them that he had seen me the day before with a group of boys. According to him I was "acting in a manner unbecoming of a Muslim girl" and I ought to be punished.

The 'unbecoming' manner he was talking about was, simply playing football with my classmates in an open field near my school. Like any other 10 year old, I could not understand how playing a game of football was so 'shameful', to the point of warranting to punish me. That night I did receive a beating from my mother who told me to never play with boys again.

What baffled me more, was how easy it was for my parents to just take his word for it. Considering that I knew something they did not know. I knew, even at that innocent age, that he wasn't being completely honest with them. There was a way he looked at me, back at the field, that would be termed as definitely 'unbecoming' of a devout Sheik. When I told my parents of what I knew, I was in more trouble for speaking ill of 'such a holy man'.

The very same 'holy man' would later - in a matter of weeks actually - be accused of defiling a 9 year old girl. She later died due to injuries sustained from her rape ordeal. Needless to say, he got away with it. In hushed tones, people whispered that it was "just an accusation and no one could prove anything". In hindsight, I shuttered when I remembered how he looked at me. It stuck in my mind and I still remember his eyes to this day.

As I grew older, when I started my secondary school - I attended a boarding school run by nuns - I began to feel a sense of freedom I had never felt before. I was a teen and I was becoming aware of my sexuality and the world in general. I listened to less and less of the Qoran and more of music. I wore trousers and I befriended boys.

In the secular world, these are merely insignificant motions in a teenage girl's life, propelling her to adulthood. But for me it was a turning point. So I loved it that I could show off my beautiful hair. I took pictures at school without the Muslim gear and I simply enjoyed the sweet freedom of not having someone to tell me, do this or do that. During school breaks however, I would go back to wearing the Hijab, keeping my school life a secret. Keeping my love for music a secret.

One day, my mother found my stash, she found my music collection and the pictures I took at school. They were not inappropriate pictures, but she considered them inappropriate. She set them all on fire, along with any inappropriate clothing she found in my closet. This simple act of so called 'discipline' pained me dearly. Because, I loved my music collection and had spent every penny of my pocket money buying them. Besides these possessions, stood for freedom. Now there was nothing to show for my little secret episodes of free choice.

So briefly, I ran away from home and spent about a week at my non-Muslim friend's house. I envied my friend because she could play music on their stereo. I later returned because I had nowhere to go. That evening, I heard my mother tell our neighbor, that she knew that one day, I would 'bring shame' to my family. That stuck in my mind too.

Coming soon........

Why Muslim women ought to question their faith as regards to their individual liberties;  - Part two