When I read titles like
A letter to Islam: we are women, not things: iLIVE
Fills me not with trepidation but as a muslim woman, my back is automatically up.
I can't take away the experience this woman has had at the hands of the men in her life, but I fail to see how her generalisations make me want to empathise with her.
In one swift article she has insulted me, my intelligence and disrespected my choice- yes my choice to remain muslim.
My friend Saaleha said it perfectly. "it's tiresome we shouldn't have to apologise all the time"
I am by no standards a feminist, islamist and detest the term moderate muslim. Yes South African Muslims are possibly the only nation of muslims that are allowed to practice freely, regardless of the sect they belong to.
But I refuse to have to explain that EVERYTIME. She disrespects me by saying: No self-respecting woman can be Muslim.
I can't fight for every muslim in the rest of the world, I can only change perceptions when I encounter them.
I respect her right to state her opinion, much the same as I have the right to negate her statements.
I will accept that people like her are scarred by their experiences but she doesn't speak for me.
I am more woman today because I am muslim. It gave me rights, taught me bounderies and allowed me to find alternate means to express myself,to be educated, to be free.
My Islam taught it to me. My Father lived it and the every other man I have met and or encountered respected it.
Gadat, Memories and Wishes
Last night was a tough, beautiful night. I am attending ISR2018 International Spiritual Retreat in Macassar Cape Town hosted by the Mahabbah Foundation . And last night marked the start of the retreat itself. And as per tradition, we have a Mass Ratibul Hadad locally known as a Gadat,which was so beautifully heartchingly recited. I come from Johannesburg, and much to peoples surprise here in Cape Town. I grew up with it, literally, my father had his own Jamaah and there isn't a memory of mine, where gadat didn't feature. Sundays and Thursdays were almost always for gadats, (which when all you wanted to do, was watch some TV and chill) but we did it. The recitation last night was like a kick in the gut. It created such a sense of longing of my father and my mother who have passed away. Using the same lagoo (melody) I closed my eyes and pictured my father and uncles sitting in the lounge facing the congregation and leading us while we jikr'd with rhythm. My chil...
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