I am a Muslim woman


by Jenn Zaghloul

I am a Muslim woman
Feel free to ask me why
When I walk,
I walk with dignity
When I speak
I do not lie

I am a Muslim woman
Not all of me you’ll see
But what you should appreciate
Is that the choice I make is free

I’m not plagued with depression
I’m neither cheated nor abused
I don’t envy other women
And I’m certainly not confused

Note, I speak perfect English
Et un petit peu de Francais aussi
I’m majoring in Linguistics
So you need not speak slowly

I run my own small business
Every cent I earn is mine
I drive my Chevy to school & work
And no, that’s not a crime!

You often stare as I walk by
You don’t understand my veil
But peace and power I have found
As I am equal to any male!

I am a Muslim woman
So please don’t pity me
For God has guided me to truth
And now I’m finally free!

Says who?


Question-Mark-pink.jpg

Says who?

Brother, You cant grow a beard
You’ll be mocked at and jeered
You’ll be looked at as weird
You’ll be avoided and feared

Says who?

Sister, you cant wear that veil
You’ll look like a whale
Subjugated to the male
In society you will fail

Says who?

Brother, go and talk to her
She has so much to offer
How else will you find a partner?
Quick! Get her number!

Says who?

Sister, keep your gaze high
No need to be shy
You gotta find the perfect guy
With whom your heart will lie

Says who?

Brother, You don’t have to pray
The Masjid is too far away
It’s for the old guys anyway
You’ll get there one day

Says who?

Sister, ignore the azaan
Your favourite program is on
So many prayers have already gone
Just forget it and carry on

Says who?

To enter hell he will be the first
Of creation he is the worst
To lead man astray is his thirst
He is shaitaan the cursed

That’s who.

Carry me in your arms….


Abu Hurairah narrated that Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said: “The believers who show the most perfect faith are those who have the best disposition and the best of you are those who are best to their wives.”

AUTHOR UNKNOWN

When I got home that night as my wife Ameena served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn’t know how to say it. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly. Ameena didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, Ismail why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She shouted at me, “you are not a man!”

That night, we didn’t talk to each other. Ameena was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; I had lost my heart to a lovely girl called Mary Anne. I didn’t love Ameena anymore. I just pitied her!

 With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house and the car. She glanced at it and then tore it to pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said, for I loved Mary Anne so dearly.

 Finally Ameena cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me, her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

 The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell fast asleep because I was tired after an eventful day with Mary Anne. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did’nt care so I turned over and was asleep again.

 In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month, we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son Ahmed had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

 This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that everyday for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy.

 Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request. I told Mary Anne about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she has, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully. Ameena and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son Ahmed clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, don’t tell Ahmed about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

 On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest.. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to Ameena.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Mary Anne about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me, .. she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart.

Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head. Our son Ahmed came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mum out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. Ameena gestured to our son to come close and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Ahmed had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.

I drove to office… jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind… I walked upstairs. Mary Anne opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Mary Anne, I do not want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished. Then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Mary Anne, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other any more. Now I realized that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until one of us departs this world.

Mary Anne seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The sales girl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote: I will carry you out every morning until one of us leaves this world!

The small details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, the property, the bank balance that matters. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build a relationship.

Allah says in the Qur’an:“Men are the supporters of women, because Allah has stowed on the one more than the other, and for what they have to provide (for them) from their sources. So the righteous women are obedient and protect in the absence of their husbands that which God ordains to be protected.”(Qur’an 4:34)

Allah says in the Qur’an:“And the believing men and the believing women, they are the friends of each other, they enjoin good and forbid evil, and establish prayers, and pay the alms, and obey God and His Messenger, these, upon them God will have mercy, indeed, God is almighty, All-wise.” (Qur’an 9:71)

Prophet[p.b.u.h] said, “The best of you is he who is the best to his family, and I am the best to my family”

To A Non-Muslim Woman


When you look at me
All that you can see
is the scarf that covers my hair
My words you can’t hear
because you’re too full of fear,
mouth gaping, all you do is stare

You think it’s not my choice
in your own “liberation” rejoice.
You think I’m uneducated,
trapped, oppressed and subjugated,
You’re so thankful that you’re free.

But non-Muslim woman you’ve got it wrong
You’re the weak and I’m the strong.
For I’ve rejected the trap of man.
Fancy clothes – low neck, short skirt
those are devices for pain and hurt.
I’m not falling for that little plan.

I’m a person with ideas and thought.
I’m not for sale, I can’t be bought.
I’m me – not a fancy toy,
I won’t decorate anyone’s arm,
nor be promoted for my charm.
There is more to be than playing coy.

Living life as a balancing game – mother,
daughter, wife, nurse, cleaner, cook, lover
and still bring home a wage.
Who thought up this modern “freedom”?
Where man can love’em and man can leave’em.
This is not free, but life in a cage.
Always jumping to a male agenda
competing on his terms.
No job share, no creche facilities,
no feeding and nappy changing amenities
No time off for menstrual pain,
“hormones” they laugh “what a shame”
No equal pay equal skill
your job they can always fill.
No promotion unless you’re sterilised.
No promotion unless you’re sexually terrorised.
And this is liberation?

Non-Muslim woman you can have your life.
Mine – it has less strife.
I cover and I get respected,
surely that’s to be expected,
for I won’t demean the feminine,
I won’t live to male criterion,
I dance to my own tune
and I hope you see this very soon.
For your own sake – wake up and use your sight.
Are you so sure that you are right?

From a Muslim Woman

 

OBJECT OF DESPAIR


 
Emma is a lawyer
And so is Aisha too
Colleagues going into court
At circa half past two

Its 1 O’Clock right now
Aisha prays before the trial
They grab a bite and chat about this and that
Conversing with a smile

Aisha is in full hijab
With a loose all over suit
Emma’s in her business wear
With accessories taboot

Emma’s really quite bemused
At Aisha’s godly ways
She looks Aisha in the eyes
And very firmly says

You’re a smart girl Aisha
Why do you wear that across your hair?
Subjugated by “man”-kind
An object of despair

Take it off my sister
Let your banner be unfurled
Don’t blindly follow all around
DECLARE YOUR FREEDOM TO THE WORLD

Aisha is amazed
But not the least bit shy
She bravely puts her milkshake down
And gives Emma the reply

My dear sister Emma,
Why do you dress the way you do?
The skirt you’re wearing round your waist,
Is it really you?

Now that we’ve sat down
I see you tug it across your thighs,
Do you feel ashamed?
Aware of prying eyes?

I see the way you’re sitting,
Both legs joined at the knees,
Who forces you to sit like that?
Do you feel at ease?

I’ll tell you who obliges you,
To dress the way you do,
Gucci, Klein, and St. Laurent
All have designs on you!

In the main, its men my friend,
Who dictate the whims of fashion,
Generating all the garb,
To incite the basest passion

“Sex Sells” there is no doubt
But who buys with such great haste,
The answer is likes like you,
Because they want to be embraced…

They want to be accepted,
On a level playing field
Sure, with brain and intellect
But with body parts revealed

Intelligence and reason
Are useful by and by
But if you want to make a mark
Stay appealing to the eye

You claim your skirt is office-like
A business dress of sorts
Would we not laugh at Mike?
If he turned up in shorts?

His could be the poshest of pants
Pinstripe from Saville Rowe
But walking round like that my friend
He’d really have to go

Why do you douse yourself in creams
To make your skin so milky?
Why do you rip off all your hair
To keep your body silky?

A simple shower’s all you need
To stay respectable and clean
The time and money that you spend
Is really quite obscene

Why do you wake up at dawn,
To apply a firm foundation,
Topped with make up and the like,
In one chaotic combination?

And if you should have to leave the house
Devoid of this routine
Why do you feel insecure
That you should not be seen?

Be free my sister Emma
Escape from your deep mire
Don hijab today my friend
And all Islam’s attire

Avoid all those sickly stares
Or whistles from afar
Walk down the street with dignity
Take pride in who you are

Strength lies in anonymity
Be a shadow in the crowd
Until you speak and interact
When your voice will carry loud

You’re a smart girl Emma
Wear this across your hair
Don’t be subjugated by “man”-kind
An object of despair

To use your very words my friend
Let your banner be unfurled
Don’t blindly follow all around
DECLARE YOUR FREEDOM TO THE WORLD

 
 

Muhammad (pbuh)


Muhammad was the greatest personality anyone has ever seen

The most honest, just and loving human being

He had the most beautiful, bright shiny smile

And the most highest ranking profile

No one could beat him in eloquence

Yet the mushrikeen said he was a bad influence

Everything he did was not for fame

But it was to help save us from the eternal flame

His humour was also great

Like when he told the old lady she won’t enter through Jannahs gate

In Jaahiliyyah they would all in him place their trust

But when he came with the truth, they threw on him dust

His habeebatain were Aa’isha and Abu Bakr

Amoung his sahaabahs expedition was there Al-Ambar

He had given Khalid bin al-Waleed the title of Sayfullah

And his beloved uncle Hamzah was known as Asadullah

At Taa’if he had to endure such pain

But he made dua to Allah that through its progeny the Ummah should gain

At the Battle of Mu’tah was his cousin Ja’far slain

This too caused him a lot of pain

His sword was the Zulfiqaar

And he told us to seek forgiveness from Allah al-Ghaffaar

He prayed sincerely night and day

Just so that humanity may come on to the right way

In the Quraan he is known as an-Natheer

This was amoung the titles given to him by As-Samee’ul Baseer

His last illness proved to be severe

He knew he would not make it another year

While on his deathbed his cry was ‘Ummati Ummati’

Knowing all the while that he was sinless, still he prayed to his Rabb, ‘Ighfirlee’ (forgive me)

Allahumma Salli wa Sallim ala Nabiyyil Ummi

Khairun Naasi min Arabiyyin wa Ajami