My Husband: The (Patient and Loving) Arab Villain
“Take care of her, [Muhammed*],” says a relative every time my husband and I leave her house after a weekend visit.
Muhammed: “Why doesn’t she ever tell you to take care of me? After all, I’m the poor guy who needs the extra care…” He laughs it off every time, but deep inside I know that he feels confused as to why anyone would believe otherwise; that is, that anyone would think that Muhammed would do anything else other than take care of me.
I had never thought about my relative’s weekly comments until I started to see the slight hurt on my husband’s face. I had never really thought about it much until we began to receive other similar comments from other relatives and friends: “If you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you…” or “You’re a lucky guy, Muhammed, take care of her…”
I have also received warnings from friends and strangers in casual conversation. “Make sure Muhammed doesn’t take you away to Arabia because we’ll never see you again…” or “Have you seen the movie Not Without My Daughter?” or “Did you husband make you convert?”
These questions and comments are all delivered half-jokingly/half-threatningly and followed with laughter. The truth is, however, that I know that some people who make these comments are usually waiting for my response so that they can cast away their doubt about my Villainous Husband. Others are watching, waiting and counting mistakes so they can say “I told you so,” never stopping to think that attributing someone’s flaws to their race and religion–rather than the fact that were all flawed human beings–is ignorance at the very least.
When I think about my protective, yet gentle and loving, husband, I feel hurt. I cannot understand the constant suspicion and mistrust towards another human being without cause.
The truth of the matter is that the stereotype of the volatile, controlling, sexually perverse and abusive Arab Muslim man is alive and well.
I remember the sensitivity he felt the day he saw our unborn baby kick her chubby feet at our first ultrasound. Afterwards, he pridefully insisted that our child should bear his first and last name so that everyone would know exactly who her daddy is! I admire the quiet way he washes the dishes on the nights when I cook dinner (the rule at our house is: one cooks, the other cleans). I am thankful for the many times he has encouraged me to pray with him. I am amused when my husband walks to the left of me because he believes he is protecting me from wierdos and speeding cars. I am grateful when he pulls back my hair and rubs my shoulders when I have morning sickness. And, I won’t forget the night he made a healing balm from olive oil and Shea butter to rub on my aching back because I had been crying from the pain. I remember the worth I felt when he bragged to his family about his “smart” wife working on her Ph.D. I laugh when he suggestively picks out matching sweaters and scarves from my side of the closet when he thinks my chest is overexposed (a habit that reminds me of my own Cuban-Catholic father and brother). These flawed, yet well-intentioned, men. Villains, indeed.
My husband is my crutch.
On my last visit home, I snarked back at a relative’s comment: “You know, he beat me senseless yesterday. Look at these bruises (I pointed at my behind)! These Arab men! But, I beat him right back…” My relative rolled her eyes and silenced up. Afterwards, my husband said that I shouldn’t have made that remark and should simply ignore the comments next time.
My husband teaches me patience and back-bending respect.
I chose my husband because I know him and–flaws and all–I love him. The partner in my life, the self-proclaimed protector of our home, the proud father of our unborn child. Yes, this is the Arab Villain I have married.
The comments my husband and I have received have never been made with intentional hatred nor with an effort to inflict pain. On the contrary, they have been made from people who love us. The comments, however, reflect a larger problem in the way we (members of society) are constantly misinformed by the media about who “We” are and who “Others” are. More specifically, about who “Westerners” are and who “Middle Easterners” and Muslims are. We lack insight on this false dichotomy and forget that people are sometimes simply just people.
As frustrated as I feel sometimes, I do not hold these comments personally against anyone. Instead, I hope that my story serves as an example of how our unconscious ignorance really does affect the way we position ourselves in the world–oftentimes dehumanizing “Others” in that process. Most importantly, I hope that we could arrive at the realization that knowing someone’s race, ethnicity, religion, or cultural background does not mean we know a darn thing about who they are as people.
*Muhammed is a pseudonym.
Finding Oneness
When I am praying–truly praying–I lose myself
to my Self.
I become centered.
My husband once told me that he knows when I really pray–
When I really pray, I am hypnotized. When I don’t really pray, I fidget.
He is right.
(Once, I couldn’t control my laughter while praying and kicked and giggled on my prayer rug while my husband turned red trying to control his own outburst)–
He blamed Shaytan, I blamed the towel that was slipping off his hips exposing him.
I stare blankly in the direction of the kaaba–
the corner of the room that is piled with dirty laundry
(I don’t know where to begin to clean up that mess)–
I imagine the way home,
again.
I am lost,
self within Self.
Searching and seeking,
dreaming of finding–
something I am sure I once had. Or imagined I had.
Lost.
Prostrating, I relinquish myself to a world I cannot hold.
Pregnancy and Fasting
Yesterday, I felt very angry. Today, I feel very disturbed.
I had to rush a sister to the hospital because she almost collapsed from dehydration. The disturbing part is that she is pregnant and in her last trimester. Even on the way to the hospital, she refused to break her fast with water.
There is nothing heroic about putting herself and her child at risk.
I know that many pregnant women fast during Ramadan. I also know that there are many safe ways a pregnant woman can ensure a proper diet to prepare for fasting. God, however, has given pregnant women the relief from fasting if they feel that it may put them at risk. God is the Most Merciful and we must understand this.
At the hospital, I served as translator between my friend and the doctor because she hardly speaks English. What shocked me was her refusal to tell the doctor that she was fasting. The doctors could not decide what was wrong with her but had suspected she was dehydrated.
When my friend went to the restroom, I let the doctor know she hadn’t drunk water for almost 12 hours. I asked the doctors to keep this confidential. At first, I felt like I was betraying my friend’s trust. After a few exams, however, the doctors determined she was severely dehydrated and they put two IVs to rehydrate her. I continued to be shocked as she continually asked her doctors if it was necessary to break her fast. She could hardly lift a finger, yet she kept refusing.
I will repeat it. This act of martyrdom is not heroic, especially when putting another life in danger for the sake of God. I just wonder what makes her believe that her decision to put her unborn child at risk is pleasing God? God doesn’t ask us to do this. He is the Most Merciful and we cannot forget that.
She is one of my good friends, so I didn’t guilt trip her. Instead, I spoke to her husband and let him know the situation so that he makes sure she nourishes herself as she recovers.
Again, I recognize that there are safe ways to fast while pregnant. I am not against it in general. I have hard that if done safely, it can be a successful and rewarding experience. I am also not saying that fasting while pregnant is strictly “right” or “wrong”. Only God knows what is best. I am simply disturbed by this particular situation.
This sister is one of the most generous and loving people I’ve ever met. In regards to the material, she doesn’t have much and she gives everything she has. I love this sister very much for the sake of God. But today, I felt very angry towards her. I just can’t help but wonder what is going through her mind as she physically struggles to maintain her energy in Ramadan while carrying a child.
A few weeks ago, I took her to the hospital and heard her baby’s heartbeat. I had never heard an unborn baby’s heartbeat before. Three days ago, she let me touch her belly while her unborn child was pushing. I had never touched a pregnant lady’s belly before. These two experiences were very emotional for me. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if I were the one pregnant. These two experiences also revealed the fact that a pregnant woman’s body is no longer her own. She shares it with her unborn child. Her womb serves as the unborn child’s shelter. While I never expressed my anger towards her, I became very angry inside because I saw her fasting (and refuse to break her fast despite her illness) as an act of selfishness with total disregard for the life that is growing inside of her.
She is still my friend, of course. Right now I am really struggling with my own judgments. But I continue to be disturbed by yesterday’s series of events and continue to have very mixed feelings in regards to women fasting while pregnant.
Does anyone have stories to share about fasting while pregnant? I have never had children, but I am really interested in understanding other women’s experiences in the case I am in a similar situation in the future.
Reasons Why Extremist Rhetoric is All The Same
By the word “extremists,” I am referring to individual adherents of any faith who respond to the world around them in mentally and socially imbalanced ways.
1. They see the world in black and white; right and wrongs. The only exceptions are those that work in favor of their larger arguments.
2. They appeal to fear in order to gain followers. Ex: “If you don’t follow Q, then you will burn in the pits of Hell.”
3. They use logical fallacies when trying to “prove” their points. Ex: “This is wrong, because the guy with the religious man with the big beard says so.” (Appeal to Authority).
4. They are desperate to convince you they are right. If they cannot, they resort to the fallacies as a rhetorical tactic.
5. They condescendingly think they know something you don’t know.
6. They believe that they are neo-prophets. Their role in this life is to show you the way to salvation.
7. They carry a lot of theory (book knowledge), but rarely any experience or practical knowledge about the way to their Creator.
8. They speak before they listen to others. This deafness leads them to make commentaries about subjects, religions and people without knowledge.
9. Anything that doesn’t line up with their worldview is simply “wrong” or “misunderstood”.
10. If they don’t get their way, they become violent. Ex: blow themselves (and others) up, burn Holy Books of other faiths, commit murder, verbally and physically attack, force others into submission, build oppressive theocratic regimes (these make me want to vomit), they silence their people, and so on. (Honestly, the Buddhists are the only ones who have gotten this peace thing down).
11. Last and certainly not least, they do not understand neither God nor Peace.
10 Things Some Feel Are “Normal” Questions to Ask Muslims
The biggest WTF Questions that are pretty invasive and absurd, but asked as if perfectly “normal”. Let’s see how they sound if similar ones are redirected at Jews and Christians.
1. You removed your hijab. Are you still a Muslim?
Imagine: You removed your yarmulke. Are you still a Jew?
2. How are you a Hispanic Muslim?
Imagine: How are you a Black Christian/Jew?
3. You wear makeup and eyeliner. Isn’t that immodest and unIslamic?
Imagine: You show too much cleavage. Isn’t that immodest and unChristian?
4. Do you have hair on your head?
Imagine: Do you have hair on your crotch?
5. Does God want you to kill kufirs?
Imagine: Does God want you to crucify your only son?
6. So every Muslim man can freely engage in polygamy?
Imagine: So every Christian/Jewish man can have 700 wives and 300 concubines? (See King Solomon–Kings 11:3)
7. What happens if you miss a daily prayer?
Imagine: What happens if you miss a Sunday/Sabbath service?
8. Why do Muslims want world dominance?
Imagine: Why do Jews want world dominance?
9. D0 you believe that men should marry underage girls (under 18)?
Imagine: Do you believe that God should impregnate an underage girl without her consent and then not marry her?
10. If you are really a Muslim, why do you curse so much?
Imagine: If you are really a Christian, why do you fuck so much?
I am Jewish. I am Christian. I am Muslim.
I arrived at a really interesting insight today. It was an aha-moment that really made me feel comfortable with the complexities of my identity and faith.
Today, a student asked me “what is your faith?” Feeling hesitant to discuss religion with a student, I answered with “I am Jewish, I am Christian, and I am Muslim.” At first, we both laughed. The answer was meant to confuse the student and redirect conversation. Instead, he was interested in my response and asked me how that was possible. What was meant to be a silly response, was the most honest response I’ve given in a long time. I explained, “I am Jewish because my ancestors are Jewish. I also believe that Abraham is the father of my faith. I am Christian culturally. I was raised Catholic and it’s a culture that will always be a part of who I am. I am Muslim by belief. I believe in the Oneness of God and I accept Muhammed as His messenger.” The student was Muslim and said, “I never thought of that. In that case, I am also Jewish and Christian because Muslims come from the same Abrahamic tradition.”
This moment was extremely important for me. Situations are not always black and white. In my case, I cannot ignore that I come from a Christian upbringing—school, family, and culture. On the same token, as a Muslim, I also understand that Jewish and Christian tradition have never been a stranger to Islamic thoughts. In fact, I am floored when I learn that Muslims who have been raised in “Muslim” countries have never read the Bible or the Torah. These books are the foundation for the Islamic faith and comprehensive knowledge is absolutely necessary in order to have smart conversations about one’s Islamic faith.
What was meant to be a confusing response, ended up being the most clear thing I’ve said in a long time. It just takes a little bit of reflection to understand that our identities (no matter how “pure” we believe they are) are often very complex and beautiful.
Adventures in Türkiye: Konya (via Perennial Reflection)
Fellow Blogger and brother, Anthony, has had an amazing journey in Turkey these past few weeks and I just wanted to share his adventures with my readers. Anthony’s pictures and words reflect a beautiful spiritual journey. Masha’Allah.
The Intersection of Faith and Intellectualism
Since returning to Miami and seeing many of the folks back home, I started to think about the relationship between God, religion, and intellectualism.
I have been wondering about the fact that the majority of those who claim a faith (e.g. Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Sikhs, and so on) are mostly lay followers. By lay, I mean that many people of faith have not learned about God and their religion through books, but rather through word of mouth (i.e. families, school, friends). Oral knowledge falls under “conventional (or folk) wisdom” and is often undervalued. The reality, however, is that the majority of believers are not religious intellectuals*. In this post, I refer to bookish scholars of any faith as “religious intellectuals” and the rest as “lay believers”.
I wonder how much we gain and lose spiritually with intellectualism. By intellectualism, I am referring to what we call “intellectual masturbation” in the academia (I think this phrase gets my point across the best). That is, an illogical and unhealthy obsession with arbitrary details and categories.
What I am noticing is that people (regardless of faith) who learn through oral tradition tend to show more wisdom and tolerance, while intellectuals tend to display arrogance and a sense of righteousness and entitlement.
This brings me to a concern about my generation and those of the future. Many of us today are doing things that previous generations could not do. Regular ol’ folks are reading information online, accessing scholarly books, and using technology to share knowledge about their individual faiths. Regular ol’ folks have access to a lot of information available through the internet and participating in the larger conversations (i.e. religious debates).
What are the benefits to quick and feasible accessibility to information in religion? Are there consequence in virtualizing the most personal part of our lives: our faith? On the one hand, the access to and distribution of information widen our minds. On the other hand, getting lost in intellectualism can give us the false sense that the “smarter” we are, the better we are. When does theory take over practice and debilitate our connection with ourselves and God?
I have begun to believe that categories destroy most things; one of these things being human relationships. Categories forces us to focus on differences. I wonder about this a lot. How does my visibility (or invisibility) as a believing Muslim translate? How do I categorize myself as belonging to a particular faith without becoming part of the masses? Does this category (visibility) debilitate my ability to be seen as a Person? Does it define me in ways that I do not wish to be defined by others?
Two days ago, I was in the waiting room of a hospital. A middle-aged Cuban women sat next to me and began talking about her husband who was critically ill. Then, she began to talk about God. She was Catholic and assumed I was too. She talked about God in a natural and unpretentious way. I had begun to forget how simple it is to believe in God (regardless of religion). I had also begun to forget that God is simple despite the fact that we always try to attach human weaknesses to God (e.g. jealously, anger, fickleness, and so on). I feel that God is greater than our minds can imagine. I am wondering if intellectualism is what prevents so many people to continually bicker about “who” God is as if it is something at which we can arrive.
Can we arrive at our own sense of God through our particular faiths without discrediting valuable knowledge of other faiths? Can we work towards a common goal for humanity through categorizations? Do knowledge and faith depend on one another? Does religious intellectualism trap us in theory and make us impractical?
Face Aids 2011: Back to School Campaign
Dear Readers,
As you may already know, I will be graduating this quarter from Ohio State University with my Master’s degree. As a way to show gratitude, I have sponsored the Face Aids 2011 campaign to give a gift of education to those who may not be as fortunate as I have always been.
The FACE AIDS 2010 Back to School Campaign aims to raise funds to send HIV-affected Rwandan youth to secondary school. All funds raised through the campaign are granted out through the Partners In Health School Fees Program in Rwanda, which supports students who are infected and/or affected by HIV/AIDS by providing them with tuition for secondary school and, in some cases, other school-related costs.
You can read more details on my Citizen Effect campaign page:
http://citizeneffect.org/projects/bas-campaign-cristina
The goal is to raise $250 that will impact 7 lives:
$250 enables an HIV-affected Rwandan youth to attend secondary school for one full year. This funding covers tuition and associated costs (e.g. uniforms, books, transport). Education has a tremendous impact on the student. It can bring:
- Improved health outcomes through ability to purchase health insurance, medications, delay sexual debut, and more
- Better nutrition through access to meals provided at school
- Improved gender equity, as more and more girls attend and graduate from secondary school
- Reduced isolation, often experienced by youth forced to drop out of school
$250 is a modest goal and I hope to be able to raise it before my graduation date: June 12th! That is less than one week!
If my blog has impacted you positively in any way consider your donation as a show of gratitude to me. If you consider yourself blessed with health, education, and so on, please pass on that gift to others! If you are an intimate friend and have been thinking of getting me a graduation or birthday present, make your donation to this cause instead.
I really hope that you will help me reach this goal before next week. Donate what you can.
All donations are made securely through the campaign page at:
http://citizeneffect.org/projects/bas-campaign-cristina
Thanks for your support, faithful readers <3
By the way, the founder of Citizen Effect, Dan Morrison, is also one of the founders of The Hijabi Monologues!
