A Religion For Women

– Rufaydah Al-Aslamiyah set up a medical tent and tended to the wounded eye of Saad Ibn Muath in Battle of Ahzab (Adab AlMufrad)

– Rubai bint Muath provided the wounded with water and treated them, and brought the shahideen to Madinah, in the company of the Prophet pbuh. (Bukhari)

– Safiya bint Abdul Muttalib killed the men plotting to sneak into the fort that protected women and children in the battle of Ahzab. Despite Hassan Bin Thabit being there. (Sirah Ibn Hisham)

– The reason why we know how to make Ghusl is because Asma bint Shakl asked the Prophet pbuh how to make one, without shying away from the topic of intimacy. Aisha radhiyallahu anha exclaimed that women of Ansar are the best women because “shyness did not prevent them from learning about religion”. (Muslim)

– Umm Haram asked the Prophet pbuh to pray for her to be part of a future military expedition. And He pbuh prayed for her. Instead of telling her that staying home would be better for her.

– Mughith would follow his ex-wife Barira all around Madina in hopes of her taking him back. The Prophet pbuh asked her “Why don’t you take him back, for he is the father of your child?”. She asked, “O Rasulullah, do you command me to do so?” and he pbuh said “I am just interceding.” Barira replied “I have no need of him” (Nasa’i)

– Um Sulaim brought a dagger with her on the Day of Hunayn. The Prophet pbuh asked her why is she holding a dagger. She said “I took it up so that I may tear open the belly of a mushrik who comes near me.”. These words amused the Prophet pbuh that he began to laugh. (Muslim)

Grateful for a religion that has validated my existence as a female by giving me many such role models. They made it clear that in Islam, and thus my life, being “open”, “active”, and visibly present in the society is not discouraged. Like all males, I was created to worship Allah. My role as a servant of Allah precedes any other roles, no matter how honourable those roles may be: a daughter, a mother, a wife, a friend, etc. My main identity as a woman are connected to my worship of Allah before anything else. I do not identify myself as a woman through any worldly relations or physical forms, for I was created for the greatest purpose. And this identity of mine is defined only by Allah, who has given me rights, proven by so many narrations and verses, to participate in a public life, advocate for myself, and be respected by society.

Only advice for my female peers is to learn about their rights given in the Deen before accepting any man’s words, distorted concepts of feminism, worldly ideologies, cultural frameworks, and pressure under the pretence of Islam. I, personally, have a long way to learn. Hence, sharing these in the hopes that they’ll benefit me as well as others. Any good is from Allah.

Abi Balj ibn Abi Salim saw Samraa bint Nuhaik very publicly reproaching people, ordering ma’roof and forbidding munkar. In response, Imam Al Tabarani said “It is not allowed to deny the sunnah of the Prophet pbuh and the history of Islam. It is not correct for blind practices of culture in a certain time or place to make rulings over the religion and Islamic law. It is not permissible to someone who takes a path of cautiousness to force other people upon it, or expect others to follow it, or make things difficult on the issues that Allah has made easy and expansive.”

This Minute In a Parallel Universe

One of these days I’ll cease to worry. I know it in my bones, that I’ll be content. There will be a cool breeze making me snuggle into something or somebody that I find warm and safe, and we’ll watch the non-stop stream of rivers for hours. I’ll feel the softness of flower petals without picking them. There will be nothing of the past or the future awaiting me, and I’ll know that I can stop, and can breathe at this moment, and the next, and the next, and I’ll shed cool tears. But I won’t be thinking of how undeserving I am of this love and blessings. I won’t be thinking anything except for how this moment right here and right now was written for me. I’ll be altitudes above the rest of us, and I’ll come up with names for constellations. My soles will walk upon cushions of green and I’ll study the love language of birds. I’ll smile knowing that it’ll be reciprocated instantly, and together we’ll watch the first blue of dawn upon us.

thoughts

We believe we move infinitely, but fate stands still.

I realize this as I glare at the audacity of a potential. The saddest connection between two people is that of an almost. Bitter and sweet are two phenomena that are really just two sides of the same coin, different forms of the same emotion. Our feelings grow to a constant brim, threatening to burst at the seams in mute embarrassment. We cast surreptitious glances at our revealing silence, but fate, really, just stands in the midst of it all and says nothing.

thoughts

A love that grows along with you, that matures past the infatuation stage, past the giddiness. A love that allows room to learn more of the other, to learn more about yourself. A love that remains consistent, a love that commits. That flourishes with respect. A love that tests, a love that stimulates, a love that pushes you to your potentials. A love that forgives. A love that completes. A love that allows space, a love that stays close. A love that seeks love, not for self-validation, but to love greater than the love for oneself. But most importantly, a love that bases itself on spiritual alignment, spiritual compatibility. A love that strives to keep that foundation. A love that finds in the other, the love of God. No love more worthy of pursuit than the one in the name of God. Two hearts and souls cradled in the hand of the One.

pen

The broken soul of an old and battered country resides in the recesses of the fractured mind of Ahmad. He has a history as confused and uncertain as the fate of the land he calls home. Ahmad’s eternity ended three years ago in a fraction of a second. As he was walking to his school blithely unconcerned for what’s to come, a land mine detonates, taking away his lower limb – limb he knew not its value until the hour of separation.

Ft. Sail Magazine

Self-Deprecating Humor: The Good and The Bad

Ft. Life of a Med Student

My First Patient

washed out Rumi

Ibrahim Gamard, Rawan Farhadi, William Chittick, and Franklin Lewis disapprove of making versions. I understand the objections. What I do is a homemade, amateurish, loose, many-stranded thing, without much attention to historical context, nor much literal faithfulness to the original

Coleman Barks: Soul Fury

little ice-cream shop

Limited by my numbered days on the land I often refer to as “back home”, I asked for Kabul’s infamous icecream. Jostled in the backseat of an old taxi, I waited patiently. There, a couple of girls around half of my age, in clothes patterened and worn, holding items such as a loaf of naan, a serving spoon, and a small plastic bag containing 3 potatoes, all looked engrossed in watching a Turkish series on a TV, through an open front icecream store. Motivated by my sieve-like memory, I felt compelled to capture this moment.

of trauma and what follows it

My trauma isn’t beautiful. When it has done it job, and bid you farewell, where does grief go? Will the cumulative fear from years preceding you pass on to the next generation? Does sorrow transpire, slowly but surely, or is it contagious? They tell me my trauma was written on the palm of my hand. If I look hard enough at the neat creases of my palm, will I find hidden in them the nightmares that follow too? My inner monologues fatigue me until I learn to fall asleep.