THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS |JANUARY 2019|
AL-BAYYAN
Photo art by Iqra Ahmed
“Do not pity the dead, Harry, pity the living, and above all those who live without love� -Albus Dumbledore
WRITING
Promise me you’ll try Ummesalmah Abdulbaseer just catching the train passing people by, turning a blind eye hearing them calling, seeing them holding signs some asking for money, some just saying hi just sitting on the train wondering how those people survive the cold and snow do they have blankets, do they have coats wondering if they’re lonely, tired of no place to go going home and eating dinner the thoughts linger on, keeping me from sleep it must be hard for them to rest outside, for them to be happy, do they often cry, do they weep? i ignore the sadness before me returning to bliss at home each day forgetting that I could have helped someone asking along the way a few dollars or a meal some gloves or a sweater or company for a few minutes because seasonal depression also comes with this weather
this world has so many pieces and people like us keep moving fast but notice whats around you, who’s around you to be a good person in the future, try hard in its past we want to be happy but we can’t ignore their pain maybe it’s time we step up try to be their sunshine after the rain this applies to everyone putting others at ease makes them feel good, supported, and helps you too, so please promise me you’ll try to care for the world we have, to honor it in our heart for enjoying its blessings means embracing and helping all its parts the best of both worlds comes when we realize that it’s not just about us, it’s about everyone so please promise me, you’ll open your eyes
When I keep turning back in to your love I’m left spinning in circles I would trade the whole world for this dizzy feeling Yavus Baysal
Seven years ago… Anonymous It was never about the image. Huh, you wear that thing now. (Yes. I do.) Is that a towel on your head? (No. It’s actually the exact same thing that you’re wearing around your neck.) Well that’s got to be really hot. (It’s really not.) It was never about the friends. Uh, yeah. Hi. I’ve… uh… got to go talk to my teachers about… uh… a homework assignment. (I am thoroughly confused. It’s the first day of school…?) Well, yeah. I’ve got to go… uh… talk to my real friends now. (Well I guess you weren’t really that good of a friend in the first place.) Well, I don’t know why you wear that thing, but we can’t be friends anymore. (At least you’re honest.) It has always been about the faith. Hey! Is that like on that show “All-American Muslim” on TLC? (There is a reason I never actually watched that show.) Well, I don’t really care about that thing on your head. We can still be friends. (That was strangely heartwarming.) Yes, I believe in God. Yes, I believe in Jesus, and Moses, and Abraham, and Adam. Yes, I have hair underneath. Yes, I still wash my hair, I don’t care if no one sees it, I can still see it. Yes, I wash my scarves. Yes, I can still talk to people, I’m talking to you, aren’t I? No, I do not wear it because I shaved my head. No, I will not take it off for you. No, it is not a hair dye job gone wrong. No, I do not wear it in the shower. No, I do not wear it when I sleep. No, I do not burn to death every summer. No, it does not freeze to my head in the winter. It insulates me in the winter but cools me in the summer. It encompasses me. It defines me. It helps me embrace who I am. It encourages me to stand up for what I believe in. It makes me want to constantly be a better person. It keeps me in line. I can honestly say that I am proud of it. It is a hijab. And when I started wearing a hijab my freshman year of high school, I saw the shift I went through. I watched myself become more respected among my peers. I watched myself transform into the person I have become today. I’ve watched myself create a name and an image that I am proud to call Muslim.
The Prophet lived life Though his focus was the next That is where it's at Mallek Nahhas
They say a woman isn’t meant to go into medicine. That her long black skirt doesn’t belong in the hospital amongst the educated ankles around her. That a woman’s place is the home and the home only. For whenever her intelligence is exposed in public, the men are insecure. How dare she she say something meaningful? How dare she have an idea? How dare she speak in that scarf on her head? But it isn’t just people who don’t understand her religion. It’s her own kind. Muslim educators who will say it isn’t safe for a woman to be in the workforce. That she will always have a “presence” that dominates all- including her own brain. Working alongside men. There is no place for a woman. There is no place for her to roll up her sleeves and scrub in just like the rest. There is no place for her hijab that is the first thing that catches people’s eyes. There is no place for her intelligence. For her passion. For her love of Creation. There is no place for women in medicine. They say. They say. But not too long ago I knew of a woman who just as much rolled up her sleeves alongside men just like any of our women in medicine today. It was our Great Lady Khadija. The way she carried herself. The way she handled business transactions. Her wisdom. Her creativity. Her ideas. Her name. Everything about her was down right respectful. Amongst the men of Quraysh. Marrying the Most important man to walk this Earth. Our beloved Prophet PBUH. They say women who choose medicine can’t be mothers. That they can’t raise children of faith. When on top of being a business woman, our Great Lady Khadija was a mother to not only her kids, but the entire Muslim Ummah. Women in medicine. You can be doctors Nurses Pharmacists Surgeons Mothers Daughters Wives Sisters Servants You can be anything. Just remember our Great Lady Khadija. She held the entire Muslim Ummah on her shoulders. Ummuna Khadija. Our mother, Khadija. Nora Laban
Sit Still and Be Silent Khanan Chaudhry Life begins after marriage they said. Only then will you truly be happy. So she was expected to sit still and be silent. They dressed her up like a doll, and drenched her with gold. Just to be sold to a man worth less than cobblestone. But she was still expected to sit still and be silent. The house was full of laughing people, and happy people. Watching and lurking just to get a glimpse at this new bride. She was treated like an object. Even then she was expected to sit still and be silent. This is how we’ve brainwashed young women. To sit still and be silent. No more.
Khanan Chaudhry
My soul is a candle, please light me on fire My wick is made from will, my wax of desire I finally escape this prison of uselessness When you kiss me with your flame Your love consumes my identity Transformed into light, illuminating the night Transformed into heat, warming hearts Please don’t let me enter eternity until you burn me all the way down For what burns in this life won’t remain to burn in the next Yavus Baysal
ARTWORK
Zainab Naveed
Shaima Darayyad
Saba Ali
Staff Writers: Muneeba Zehra Rafia Ali Naba Durrani Ummesalmah Abdulbaseer
Illustrator: Sumaiyya Ahmed
Staff Artists: Saba Ali Zainab Naveed
Executive Board: Nui Waris, President Ali Nasaruddin, Vice President
Cover Photo by: Shapla Shaheen
Nabeeha Bakhrani, Treasurer Shapla Shaheen, Creative Director Saba Ali & Samirah Alam, Social Media Director Rafeed Hasan, Technology Director Huda Kalota, Outreach Coordinator Javerea Ahmed, Executive Assistance
Al-Bayyan has served the UIC Muslim community for over 10 years by giving Muslim students a platform to express themselves. The publication along with Al-Bayyan’s annual live showcases have allowed a means for Muslim students to be honest, authentic and true to themselves. From this effort, has emerged an incredibly beautiful and diverse amount of artwork. Students have shared their passion through poetry, reflections, singing, storytelling, spoken word, comedy acts and many more. In whatever way it may be, Al Bayyan is an invitation for all forms of selfexpression.
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