Al Bayan Spring 2011

spring 2011

ALBAYAN

POWER TO THE PEOPLE

AL BAYAN

INSIDE

contents

03 from the editors 04 contributors 05 going zabihah 06 are you there, God? it’s me, culture 08 blending street art and social change 10 cover: the time for change 14 want to marry me? talk to my mom 16 piecing together a hip-hop culture 18 standing strong in the face of uncertainty 19 a heroine from within 20 a stair-cased trip 22 opinion: the costs of victory 23 now trending on twitter || things we like 02 // SPRING 2011

AL BAYAN

NOTES EDITORS-IN-CHIEF noreen nasir nadine shabeeb

MANAGING EDITORS

Letter from the Editors

In recent months, we’ve seen the world changing around us -from the long-awaited death of our nation’s most-wanted enemy to the unprecedented revolutions continuing to make history in the Middle East. While in one corner of the world, devastating floods raged throughout rural Pakistan and affected millions, in another corner, French Muslims came face to face with the legal ramifications of a burqa ban that stripped away the rights of many.

Throughout all of these events, American Muslims realized that they play a large part in this global narrative. As men and women marched in the streets of Liberation Square until Egypt’s long-reigning dictator finally stepped down and as a second wave of McCarthyism swept our country through Congressional hearings directly targeting Muslims, all eyes focused on Islam and its followers. We stand in solidarity with our Muslim brothers and sisters around the world and here at home and are inspired by the power of the people.

But what much of the nation failed to realize throughout these events was that the young Muslim in this country has always been an active member of society -- adding a patriotic and outspoken voice to the mix of millions in the United States.

Earlier this year, CNN produced a documentary called “Unwelcome: The Muslims Next Door” in an effort to shed light on the discrimination that Muslims continue to face in parts of the country.

As students at a prestigious university like Northwestern who actively engage in efforts to understand the social and political world, it is clear to most of us that the radical, extremist terrorists claiming to be Muslims are false representatives of Islam. But for many around the country, this fact is still unclear. Islamophobia, it seems, is not dead.

And so we bring you this year’s Al Bayan, to give you a better understanding of who the American Muslim is. We are the Muslims next door, and we share our story with you.

kawther albader heba hasan

DESIGN EDITOR taylor soppe

PHOTOGRAPHER mariam gomaa

CONTRIBUTORS nazihah adil siddiq ather rayyan najeeb sana rahim sarah smierciak nathalie tadena christina walker rujman zaman

THANKS TO OUR DONORS

The Buffett Center for International and Comparative Studies • International Studies Program • Dept. of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies • Dept. of Religious Studies

Got something to say?

Email us at mcssaalbayan@gmail.com with questions, comments and feedback.

-- Nadine Shabeeb and Noreen Nasir 03 // SPRING 2011

AL BAYAN

STAFF

Contributors

Nazihah Adil is a senior art history and economics major with an appreciation for the finer things in life. In her free time, she enjoys reading and contemplating art, often making hotel reservations based on their proximity to museums.

Sarah Smierciak is an amoeba.

Though slightly larger, she changes form depending on environment. She never feels more in place than when she is displaced. She dreams of replacing the exclusionary tendencies of nationalism with a respect undefined by borders.

Siddiq Ather is a freshman hailing from Addison, Ill. majoring in economics who writes part-time for The Muslim Observer. He enjoys art, slam poetry and well-crafted sandwiches. He also loves basketball, martial arts, and viewers like you, thank you.

Heba Hasan is a journalism major from New York and Oscar Wilde’s philosophy, Jane Austen’s quotes, Lanvin and cheesy 90’s movies basically explain the fundamental cornerstones of her personality.

Kawther Albader is from Kuwait, where everything originates and where everything was invented.

She is a sophomore in Medill and loves all things Kuwaiti, as well as extremely cheesy pick-up lines.

Nathalie Tadena is a senior majoring in journalism and political science from Ossining, NY. This is her second year writing for Al Bayan and she writes and edits for The Daily Northwestern and NU Asian. She loves traveling and writing and is always looking for ways to combine both.

04 // SPRING 2011

Christina Walker is a sophomore majoring in journalism and political science. Hailing from Nashville, Tenn., she appreciates delectable southern dishes and a bustling scene of local musicians. After participating in a reporting trip to Amman, Jordan, she plans to pursue social justice issues.

Mariam Gomaa is an English and biology major at Northwestern University, who loves journalism and art. In her spare time she is a photographer for multiple publications and organizations, including Al Bayan and The Daily Northwestern.

Sana Rahim is an English major and political science minor. Born and raised in Laramie, Wyo., Sana is interested in international development, social justice and woman’s rights issues. She spent two summers researching in Turkey and loves all things Istanbul.

Rayyan Najeeb studies film, psychology and pre-medicine at Northwestern University. He is the co-president of Inspire Media. Compounding his diverse interests, he likes to hip-hop to hummus, camel jockey and compete with Qataris in curling.

Rujman Zaman is a senior pre-med studying psychology from Plainfield, Ill. He enjoys graphic design, dabbles in video-editing and enjoys weight lifting and playing basketball. Spontaneous, he often finds himself in bizarre but memorable situations.

Taylor Soppe is a senior majoring in journalism, minoring in film & media studies. She’s passionate about magazine design, video journalism and magazine writing. From San Diego, she looks forward to heading back to the California sun and to reuniting with her two beagles.

AL BAYAN

EATS

Choosi ng prepa red mto eat Isla m ica l lys tyle cha ng eat br i ngs l i fees for some

Waiting in line at Northwestern University’s Foster-Walker Complex dining hall, Fadhi Ali stared at a bin stacked with burger patties. Preparing to give his order, his friend Bilal Shahabuddin, another Northwestern sophomore, nudged Ali and told him to try the Zabihah alternatives offered. “Just try it,” he encouraged. Taking his friend’s suggestion, Ali decided to give it a go.

“Since then, I haven’t had the urge to go back,” Ali says. “It’s the grace of God. Alhamdulillah, He made it easy.”

Northwestern Chaplain Tahera Ahmad explains that the concept of Zabihah is a specific slaughtering style that ensures the animal suffers as little as possible. Moreover, the name of Allah must be pronounced before the act is performed.

Back home in San Diego, Ali and his family adhere to the restrictions of Zabihah.

“Zabihah businesses are run by and catered by Africans – it’s deeply rooted in our community,” says Ali, who is Ethiopian-American.

Since it was the only type of meat he ate at home, Ali did not give the concept of Zabihah much thought.

It was only when he came to Northwestern that he was faced with the task of making the decision for himself.

While he initially did not discriminate between Zabihah and non-Zabihah options, it took the mere suggestion of a friend – and a split-second decision – for him to switch back to eating only Zabihah products.

He had always known that the issue of Zabihah and non-Zabihah meat was a gray area in Islam. However, the more Ali reflected on the issue, the more he wanted to err on the side of caution.

“If it’s a gray area, just avoid it. The way I look at it, if you only eat Zabihah meat, you can’t be wrong,” he says.

For others, the switch can be quite difficult.

Northwestern Junior Najim Yaqubie, who recently made the decision to eat only Zabihah meat, explains that he implemented his dietary restrictions when he moved off campus. When students move off campus their food options often expand, but for Yaqubie, going Zabihah curbed some of those benefits.

“What actually made it harder was that I’m Afghani,” Yaqubie says. “The Afghani diet is insanely rich in protein and carbs – the idea of going a day without meat, commonplace for me now, was foreign.”

Yaqubie takes painstaking measures to stay true to his choice. Tagging along with friends to Devon Ave., a place known for its rich offering of mostly Zabihah-compliant South Asian restaurants and grocery stores, he occasionally buys around 10 pounds of meat to clean and prepare for homemade meals. When work picks up and he becomes too busy to cook for himself, his mother ships him about 20 pounds of prepared beef to last him the entire quarter.

For something as seemingly mundane as what to eat, adhering to Islamic dietary restrictions serves as a constant reminder that Islam is a way of life and a mentality that can be applied to one’s daily actions.

“I made the conscious effort to learn something in Islam,” Ali says. “It was a tangible thing I could hold on to.”

Looking back on that moment when he was standing in line at the dining hall, Ali reflects: “Everything comes from Allah. I didn’t plan for it – it just goes to show that nothing is completely in your hands.”

05 // SPRING 2011

A

06 // SPRING 2011

It’s m

Northwestern students open up about their personal relationships with God and the role of culture as a bridge to spirituality.

It is 1995 in Tehran, and Siamack Abdollahi Pour is a young boy ardently memorizing Qur’an in grade school. In just a few years, Pour, an Iranian graduate student who moved to the U.S. in 2007, would go from embracing religion without a second thought to separating himself from Islam.

In his eyes, the government’s unjust imposition of religion in everyday life is one of the reasons for his estrangement from Islam. Yet it is this particular trait – the blending of religion with culture and politics – that has caused Pour to have many Iranian-Muslim friends in the U.S. “Despite the fact that I don’t consider myself Muslim, we have been raised in the same culture,” he says of his Iranian friends in Chicago. “Religion or no religion, we have the same values. The culture stays with you.”

For Pour, like many other Muslims, culture has played a pivotal role in shaping his religious views. As images of Islamic radicals using religion as a form of extremism flood the media, many Muslims who view Islam in a less orthodox manner fade into the background. Their stories are lost in a landscape of suicide bombers and anti-American sentiment.

Yet their narratives are equally as telling, revealing how the dynamics of religion and culture shape a person’s deeply personal relationship with God. It is not only in non-secular countries like Iran where many Muslims turn to less orthodox views of Islam. Turkey, a country unique in the sense that it is 99

percent Muslim and secular, is the home to many people who consider themselves culturally Muslim.

For Tahera Ahmad, Northwestern University’s Muslim Chaplain, the phrase “culturally Muslim” is in some ways just a semantics game.

“The reality is that we are all culturally something,” she says. “Because you are culturally Muslim, you may recognize yourself as part of a larger Muslim tradition, but you don’t recognize some of the rituals of Islam.”

Yalin Buyukdora, an international Northwestern student from Istanbul, considers himself a part of this culturally Muslim sect. He says that his family background and the people around him in Istanbul don’t practice religion on a day-to-day basis but view Islam on their own terms.

“To me, being culturally Muslim means using the word ‘insha’Allah’ instead of saying the Turkish word for ‘hopefully,’” he explains. “I don’t go to the mosque to pray and I don’t fast all through the month of Ramadan but I still feel very warm and close to some of the big values of Islam,” he says, clasping his hands together.

The way people practice religion in Turkey often depends on their location geographically and socio-economically, Buyukdora says. He is quick to point out that the liberal, more secular sect of Islam doesn’t encompass all of Turkey’s religious ideology. In the eastern regions of Turkey and even in some neighborhoods in Istanbul, Islam becomes a dominant force and shapes people’s ways of living.

Idil Oksuz, a Northwestern sophomore who moved from Ankara, Turkey to the U.S. when she was eight, notices the

differences between the way many people in Turkey perceive Islamic rituals and the way people from more orthodox backgrounds perceive them.

“The religious people here are very intent on praying five times a day and celebrating all the religious holidays, whereas in Ankara on a day-to-day basis you don’t think about God all the time,” she says.

In her eyes, the adaption of religion to a Western lifestyle doesn’t make the people from Ankara irreligious. She explains that though some Turkish people drink alcohol, a practice forbidden by most Islamic interpertations, they still maintain a sense of spirituality.

“I would say that I have a lot of faith. I know that some religious people wouldn’t agree with me because I don’t pray five times a day or wear hijab,” she remarks, referencing the religious head covering. “But I think I am religious privately, on a personal level with God.” Buyukdora also views religion as something one does in a private sphere.

For him, religion is so tightly embedded in Turkish culture that he still finds comfort and familiarity in maintaining faith, despite not practicing it on a daily basis.

“I think being away from home and practicing religion reminds you of family,” he says. He recounts a story of how before coming to America his mother gave him a little book with the important prayers from the Qur’an, instructing him to read it whenever he longed for home.

Accompanied with the Turkish translations, the little book seems to act like a bridge between religion and culture, proving that the two, no matter what your level of faith, can hold the same function— one of familiar refuge.

Are you there, God?

me, culture.

07 // SPRING 2011

Photos provided by Mohammed Ali

08 // SPRING 2011

BLENDING STREET ART & SOCIAL CHANGE

Graffiti artist Mohammed Ali paints a picture of his work and the inspiration fueling it. By Siddiq Ather Mohammed Ali, also known as Aerosolarabic, is a professional graffiti artist from Birmingham, England. He was involved with graffiti art during the eighties when it first gained momentum across the U.K. He has painted public murals with a message in cities around the world and he shares his story with us.

What is the value of graffiti art in society?

You still hear the questions of whether graffiti is just vandalism or art. For me, it is about taking ownership of the public space and offering ideas that are beneficial for a progressive and positive society. I want to bring something back that will be of benefit to the people. It’s a channel for me to release my thoughts and ideas so people may benefit personally and spiritually.

How does being Muslim affect your work?

When I rediscovered my identity as a Muslim, as a graffiti artist, I was blown away by the marriage and melding of the two art forms [graffiti and Islamic art]. I felt I could take the best of both worlds without conflict.

How has your outlook on art changed since you started?

I was never one of those people mindlessly vandalizing property: painting an eyesore, with something of color.

What kind of example would I be if I was painting walls illegally? [When I first started] there wasn’t really a message, just a name. Now the focus is on the message rather than selfish expression.

Where do you draw your inspiration?

The prophets [of Islam]. What we are doing as artists and activists is a continuation of these people who fought and struggled for justice, for bringing back values.

How do you see yourself advancing in the future?

I established an organization called Soul City Arts and have been programming and directing theatrical events with other artists. The scene of arts for social change is very small, and people who work in this arena need to connect so they can effectively bring about social change.

09 // SPRING 2011

R O F E M I T E H T tion lu o v e r y r a in d r e extrao h t s e c a r t t n e d ry people. a u in d A st r o f o s e ic through the vo

I

n the backstreets of Midan al-Tahrir (Liberation Square), I watched a man breathe fire. In a scene straight from “Aladdin,” he positioned a ball of fire in front of his lips, blew a stream of orange and extinguished the flames in his mouth.

My first day in Egypt fulfilled all of my exotic expectations. But as this jetlagged fantasy wore off, I began to see the darker side of Cairo’s appeals to the imagination.

A little boy dragged a gas can half his size past my table in the alleyway café. Bussoo, kulu!

– everyone look here – cried his mother. She took a swig of kerosene and spit it on her stick of fire. After blotting her mouth with a dirty rag, she repeated the trick and made her rounds collecting tips.

A burn scar spread across her cheek as she stepped into the light.

Itaa’limti kida feen? – Where did you learn to do that? – I asked. She learned out of necessity, she said. Her husband died in an accident and she had to provide for her three children. The sharp smell of chemicals and the look of desperation in her eyes somehow detracted from the entertainment of the firebreather I had seen

E G N A H C rciak ie m S h a r a S y b Story habeeb.

S e in d a N y b s Photo

from a distance that first night.

Despite the nearly universal good humor of the Egyptians I met, the more time I spent in Cairo the more pronounced this despair became – only made starker when contrasted with Egypt’s wealthiest.

Everyday I walked down Tahrir Street, knee deep in garbage, stepping over women selling tissues for 20 cents a pack, their infant children sprawled out on dirty sheets beside them. After buying my tissues, I would board a private, airconditioned bus that took me far outside the city center to the desert fortress that was the American University “in Cairo” (AUC).

Equipped with a full-sized 400m track, swimming pool, dozens of imported palm trees, fountains and two McDonalds’, the campus resembled something of a fantasy sandcastle with a blend of Islamic architecture and American excess. Frozen caramel macchiatos from Cinnabon (at the cost of 30 Egyptian pounds, apprxomiately $5.50, or about 15% of an average Egyptian worker’s monthly salary) were consumed in plenty in the “Gucci Corridor,” a hangout spot reeking of cigarettes and expensive perfume.

‫رة‬ D

o you think there could ever be a revolution in Egypt?”

I asked my friend, Ahmed.

Ahmed Ezzat was the strangest Egyptian I had ever met. He was the first, and only, “Communist” I had come across in Cairo, a city of several thousand mosques. Hailing from the oasis town of Fayoum in Middle Egypt, Ezzat left his conservative religious family to study law at Cairo University. A group of bright female students attracted him to ideas of leftist politics, socialism and human rights.

masr? – Do you think there could be a revolution in Egypt?

If there is one benefit to the traffic in Cairo, it’s that it provides ample time for interesting answers to questions such as this one. And lack of employment opportunities means taxi drivers come from a range of backgrounds, from religious scholars to engineers – making for insightful discussions spanning the gamut of Egyptian society.

Many of the people I spoke with expressed utter resignation: Mubarak

Mohammed Mazen, a 23-year-old recent graduate from Cairo University and a participant in the Revolution, says Facebook was used mostly as a communication tool. In a country where emergency laws prohibit mobilization and permit random arrests, Facebook served as an outlet for mass gatherings and organization that would have been difficult, if not impossible, on the street.

“The Mubarak government was backwards and wasn’t capable of penetrating the technology at all,”

“People who were inside Midan al-Tahrir learned how tough Egyptian women can be. They realized that Egyptian society needs this voice in order to progress.”

Ezzat and I would sit for hours beneath the yellow lights of streetlamps in those alleyway cafés near Midan al-Tahrir. Plastic patio furniture and sheesha water pipes lined the lanes where young and old went to yisharoo, to “stay up late” – joking and talking about the recent soccer match or want of work.

Over countless cups of tea, Ezzat and I discussed the history of Marxism, the Russian Revolutions, the Bolsheviks’ ascension to power and the complete upheaval of a society that followed. My time in Cairo convinced me that Egypt needed nothing short of a Marxist-style overthrow of the ruling class – the capitalists getting rich off of the exploitation of the Egyptian working (or unemployed) class. I consider myself a moderate, at least politically speaking. But there was something about the intense contradictions of Egyptian society that brought out the radical in me.

Despite his Communist tendencies, however, Ezzat didn’t seem to share my revolutionary fervor.

“Egypt is advancing economically,” he said. “It’s just a matter of time before that wealth starts to trickle down to the masses. It won’t take less than a century, but Egypt will progress gradually.”

I wondered how this would happen – even over the course of a hundred years – when the government continued to siphon off the income of the country’s resources and leave the population in a fog of destitution and insecurity. The country’s “progress” manifested itself in real estate, not in the public hospitals, where – after sustaining a soccer injury – I saw more mice (four) than doctors (zero) and more open wounds than bandages.

The question became one of my favorite conversation starters: Tiftikkar in mumkin takoon sawra fi

12 // SPRING 2011

will remain in office until he dies and Gamal (his son) will take over. Others spoke excitedly about how there should be a revolution, only to note that it would never happen because, “Egyptians just don’t care about politics.” But there were a number who were quite confident that revolution was inevitable – it was just a matter of how and when.

On one particularly long taxi ride, I received a response so self-assured that it struck me at the time as almost prophetic and rather cinematic. The middle-aged driver looked me in the eyes with a seriousness that changed the tone of our jocular conversation: “Remember my name: Magdi Hashem. There will be a revolution, and it will be a revolution of the hungry – of the people starving for bread to eat and air to breathe. And I will be their leader.”

The incessant honking of the cars locked in stillness around us lent an air of credibility to Hashem’s claim that Egypt was one large, frustrated tinderbox ready to explode. What the spark would be, however, who could know?

O

f course, the Revolution that occured on the 25 of January was not a Marxist-style reversal of social hierarchy. It did not bring the proletariat to power, but rather the military – the owners of capital (a quarter of Egypt’s economy to be precise). However, it did bring with it a great symbolic downfall of a much-resented regime, an empowerment of the long-disenfranchised Egyptian people and an opening for potential change.

But what was it that made the January 25 Revolution possible? Was it really a “Facebook Revolution” as it has come to be called? Was the Mubarak regime a domino next in line to Tunisia’s ill-fated Ben Ali?

Mazen says. “They couldn’t stop it.

They were controlling the media, so Facebook was the only place people could talk to each other without the government noticing.”

Ahmed Abdel Fattah, a 25-yearold researcher for Egypt’s Ministry of Agriculture, traces the importance of this social media meeting ground to many months before the Revolution.

He says Facebook groups like “We are all Khaled Said,” created after its 28-year-old namesake was beaten to death on the streets outside an Alexandria internet café, helped foment a community based on articulated indignation toward police brutality and general societal injustice.

This virtual community would translate into action on Egypt’s streets come National Police Day on January 25. The continued violence on the following two days was what compelled so many people to participate in demonstrations on January 28 after Friday prayer. This day, dubbed the “Day of Anger,” brought hundreds of thousands of Egyptians to the streets.

“The Revolution began with the youth,” Mazen notes. “But after that, other people started to join in the Revolution. People who felt wronged.

People whose families were sitting in police stations being tortured. These were the people who strengthened the revolution and made it succeed.”

Twenty-three-year-old Ahmed Abdel Wahab, who graduated from Cairo University and now works as a computer engineer, participated in the protests from the first day until January 28, when a rubber bullet blinded him in his left eye.

“The protests began mostly with young men, and some people wanted it to stay just young men,” he says.

“But we weren’t able to continue the Revolution without all of the Egyptian people – the women and the girls and the older adults. We couldn’t have

brought the fall of the regime alone.”

Heba al-Batreeq, a lawyer and the first literate female in her family, emphasizes the value of these added participants.

“There were female doctors treating the people beaten by Mubarak’s thugs,” she says. “There were girls acting as the hateefas (chant leaders). They were riling up the masses.

Women didn’t just respond to the words being said. They were saying [them]. And the people – boys and men – were answering.”

Al-Batreeq says that the Revolution was remarkable for the boundaries it broke between genders.

“In Egypt, girls don’t usually sit on the side of the street like boys,” she says. “But during the Revolution no one looked down on a woman because she was sitting on the curb eating koshari and drinking tea. She was a part of the Revolution just as much as the men.”

But the successes of the protests – cultivating mutual respect, unity and eventually regime overthrow – were not without costs.

“I met a lot of people in Tahrir Square, but I never saw them again,” Abdel Wahab says. “A lot of them died or were injured by the police. I saw people killed right in front of me.”

Despite this and his life-altering injury, Abdel Wahab has no reservations about participating in the

demonstrations.

“When people go into the streets in defense of their principles, when they go because of something they believe is right, they won’t be afraid,” he says. “And they won’t regret it, no matter what the cost.”

B

ut what exactly were the gains of the Revolution? In these days of uncertainty in Egypt and the recent additional outbreaks of religious violence, it may be hard to see the immediate benefits of Mubarak’s departure from afar. However, even as the transitional period progresses, Egyptians are noticing positive changes on the ground.

“After the Revolution, I began to feel that the regular Egyptian people have a role,” Abdel Fattah says. “At work, our bosses started to ask about our problems. This kind of recognition made me feel that the people who died in the Revolution didn’t die for nothing.”

Al-Batreeq is confident the strong voices of women will continue to resonate.

“People who were inside Midan al-Tahrir learned how tough Egyptian women can be,” she says. “They realized that Egyptian society needs this voice in order to progress. And I think this idea will spread beyond Tahrir.”

Of course, the full consequences of the Revolution remain to be seen.

Mazen expressed a growing fear in Egypt that America and Israel will get involved and support the people of the old regime in order to ensure stability. Abdel Fattah warned against the dangers of Islamic extremists hijacking the movement.

Despite these doubts, optimism for the future still seems to prevail.

But Mazen says this progress is only possible if, like the initial 18 days of demonstrations, the people work together.

“Everyone has to participate in this development,” he says. “Everyone has to do his best in his own field to help the country develop.”

Meanwhile, Ahmed Ezzat, my Egyptian friend of Communist tendencies, has created a group to organize a political voice in the post-Mubarak era. Fears of a counterrevolution on the part of the military have redoubled the efforts of groups like his in attempts to keep people mobilized in the political realm so his vision of gradual improvement might become a reality.

“After a great thing, there are always uncertainties,” Abdel Fattah says.

But, as al-Batreeq notes, “Here in Egypt we have incredible amounts of patience. And as the Egyptian saying goes, Nitlaa’ min al-sim al-aa’sal— From poison, we extract honey.”* *note: All interviews conducted in Arabic with author’s translations.

13 // SPRING 2011

Want to marry me? Talk to my mom.

One writer demystifies the misconceptions of how Muslims approach love through the marriage of tradition and modernity. By Kawther Albader “Hii Sweetie you looK like nice grl in pikchar, maybe we can Be friendz?”

If you are a Muslim girl on some sort of social networking site, chances are you’ve heard that one before.

In today’s fast-paced society, the platforms available to meet new people can be overwhelming. Muslim singles, surrounded by “Westernized” ideals of dating and marriage, are pushed by social networking and online matrimonial sites to meet new people and potential spouses. The situation is, at best, immensely confusing.

The traditional route is also complicated. Arranged marriages are stereotyped not only by Western media, but in Bollywood platforms as well (Shahrukh Khan love story, anyone?). The image depicted is often of a woman whose initial meeting with her husband happens on her wedding day – the woman has little to no say when it comes to choosing her spouse and is forced into the marriage.

However, the reality of contemporary arranged marriages in the Muslim world is much different. Despite the obstacles, a solution is by no means impossible. Some Muslims are now finding that instead of choosing between culture and modernity, they can fuse the traditional route with their own modern twist.

Saher Akbar was looking to get married shortly after finishing college.

She decided to let her parents arrange

14 // SPRING 2011

for her to meet men they had chosen, one of whom would eventually become her husband.

So how exactly do arranged marriages work these days?

Akbar calls it a “screening process” with multiple steps. First, the parents have to meet and approve of the other family. If the potential in-laws give each other the stamp of approval, the man and woman will start emailing. After a period of correspondence, phone numbers are exchanged. The final step is a face-to-face meeting between the two, usually – but not always – accompanied by a third party. Both sets of parents are kept in the loop throughout the whole process. Although these exact steps are not followed in all arranged marriages, most families follow these guidelines.

“It’s like a dating service provided by your parents in which all the boys are approved by your parents,” Akbar says. “They give you your space, they give you your time and they let the decision be yours.”

Newlywed Nashida Alam met her husband when both of their parents introduced them to each other last September on Eid al-Fitr, an Islamic holiday, and was engaged shortly afterwards. She agrees with Akbar that a benefit of arranged marriages is that both sets of parents approve because they are the ones who initially introduced the couple.

Alam maintains that the situation

would have been more difficult had she introduced her husband to her parents first, instead of the other way around.

“The initial ‘scan’ by my parents would have been so much more critical,” says Alam, a junior at Northwestern University. “By doing it this way, we have all of our parents’ blessings.”

Another way young Muslims are finding spouses has been dubbed “halal dating,” a relationship route that is difficult to define. Halal means permissible, and halal dating implies a more allowable way to “date” someone. Halal dating usually entails both parties informing their parents that they are interested in pursuing a relationship with each other. From then on, the man and woman go on dates accompanied by a third party.

Abdel Azim Elsiddig, Ph.D., a certified Life Coach of Scream Free Living and a sheikh, or Islamic scholar, calls halal dating unnecessary. He explains that as long as a woman and a man spend time together in a public area, are clear about their intentions, and take each other seriously, then they are abiding by Islamic principles.

“The term ‘halal dating’ is very undefined,” Elsiddig says. “It is very misleading and places restrictions on the parties involved. [They] do not want to get to know the third party.”

Elsiddig says the misconception in the Muslim world about having a third party physically present at all times is

Photos provided by Joe Faizal

the result of a resurgence of pre-Islamic notions that are masked as proper Islamic conduct.

“They are trying to become more Italian than the Italians. We think being overly strict is good for our kids,” Elsiddig says. “We thought it would make us more Muslim than [non-American] Muslims and more Arab than [nonAmerican] Arabs.”

Northwestern Junior Usman Ather, who recently got engaged, prefers to call the process a “supervised love marriage,” and he laughs about how it is much easier said than done. Because the man and woman meet themselves and not through their parents, parental approval is not guaranteed. Romantic comedies tend to paint the classic “meeting the parents” scene as a hysterically tense and fundamentally awkward moment, and Ather does not disagree.

However nerve-wracking that initial meeting is, it is worth the trouble.

Ather explains that keeping parents informed about one’s intentions can actually be less complicated in the end than concealing the relationship.

“When getting parents involved, there’s always a fear that it will complicate things,” Ather says. “And that fear is completely legitimate – it will complicate things for sure. But in the long run, it makes things easier.”

“Muslims” and “relationships” are not mutually exclusive terms.

For American Muslims looking for a spouse, Westernized concepts like dating may have added extra challenges, but bridging tradition and modernity can make things easier. Besides, finding a spouse is difficult enough on one’s own – who wouldn’t want the extra pairs of inquisitive eyes provided by one’s parents? If all else fails, it’s nice to know that our parents have our backs.

A RESUME FOR MARRIAGE A guide to writing your romantic report card.

Think of a biodata as your mother’s praises written on paper – it’s an exaggerated version of the truth, a picture of you through rose-tinted glasses. And it’s all to help you find that special someone. In your biodata, you should list things like your hobbies, interests, skin complexion and weight (be honest!) and a picture of you posing awkwardly by yourself. If a person’s romantic report card strikes your fancy, it’s on like Shahrukh Khan. It can be a make-or-break moment for both parties involved, so here’s your guide to creating the perfect biodata to get that Imran Khan or Aishwarya Rai lookalike:

Y Do not mention that your mother still cooks every meal for you. We know you love both your mother and your chicken karhai, but appearing self-sufficient is key. On a related note, mention that you can cook. No one needs to know the extent (or lack thereof) of your skills.

Y Show off your bilingualism in order to appear cultured. Remember, Google Translate works wonders.

Y Don’t forget to mention anything related to you being a doctor... unless you’re getting your Ph.D, also known as a Poor and Hungry Doctor.

Y If you’re not a doctor, say that you considered it but decided that staying at home and taking care of your mother was more important – just don’t expect anyone to show interest.

Y Finally, a picture is worth a thousand words, or in this case a thousand rishtas. Make sure your picture is recent! Note: recent does not mean five years ago. ---K A

spring | 2011 008 152011 // SPRING

PIECING TOGETHER A

HIP- HOP Three Northwestern-Qatar students tie an artistic movement to the Middle East through their film “Broken Records”

CULTURE

16 // SPRING 2011

Story by Nathalie Tadena. Photos by Mariam Gomaa.

AL BAYAN

Y

oung artists gather in an empty passageway preparing to spray paint onto a white wall in order to express themselves through an art form that has no limits.

The opening scenes of the documentary “Broken Records” are accompanied by the lyrics of Iraqiborn journalist and hip-hop emcee The Narcicyst rapping about freedom and strength in the Arab world and praising God. Hope, war, a search for home – ideas articulated in the verses of The Narcicyst and other young Arab hip-hop artists – were among the themes that captivated three student filmmakers at Northwestern University in Qatar.

A newfound interest in this growing cultural movement in the Middle East led journalism students Rana Khaled, Ashlene Ramadan and Shannon Farhoud to film and direct “Broken Records,” which follows six Arab hip-hop artists and the music that gives voice to Arab youth seeking political change. The film also examines the creation of a new type of art form that blends Western culture and Middle Eastern traditions in order to voice themes that are more specific to the Arab experience.

“Hip-hop is very underground in the Middle East and not a lot of people know about it,” Ramadan says. “With the revolutions in the region, we’re still learning a lot about Arab hip-hop and the messages it has about what’s happening right now.”

The idea for the documentary first arose after Khaled decided to do a journalism assignment on a friend who writes hip-hop music as a hobby. Khaled says that after listening to his music, the lyrics were a lot deeper than she first thought and she decided to delve into the subject.

Around 250 people attended the

MUSIC documentary’s February premiere in Doha, and five of the six profiled artists performed. “Broken Records” went on to win second place in the “Most Promising Films” category at the Al Jazeera International Documentary Film Festival and was also featured on National Geographic’s website.

In recent months, the students have screened the documentary across the U.S., and they also plan to show the movie in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia.

“We really made the documentary because we thought it would be interesting, something we could do outside of class,” Farhoud says.

“We didn’t think we would ever win at the Al Jazeera festival. People reacted well to the film and were really encouraging us.”

In the course of one month, the three students interviewed six artists – including The Narcicyst, Syrian-American hip-hop artist Omar Offendum, and Arab-American hip-hop artist Iron Sheik. The students shot the documentary in Qatar without a budget and used equipment borrowed from the university.

“The most rewarding aspect of the film was learning about this new culture, being exposed to so many different people and generat[ing] so much interest,” Khaled says.

The artists interviewed – whose talents range from graffiti art to beatboxing to rap – have experienced the Arab diaspora firsthand in regions ranging from the Middle East to North America, and they discuss how they use new “With the revolutions in the region, art forms we’re still learning to voice the sentiments of a lot about Arab many young hip-hop and the Arabs. messages it has As one about what’s hapartist notes in pening right now.” the film, approximately 60 percent of the Arab

population is under the age of 30.

“Our generation is seeking people to represent them in a more holistic way, not necessarily just talking about things they can’t relate to,” Offendum says.

The filmmakers say interest in the film has been especially strong in the U.S. The students, who recently completed their journalism residencies in the States, also had the opportunity to screen the film at Northwestern’s Evanston campus.

Approximately 100 students and faculty members attended the May

“The most rewarding aspect of the film was learning about this new culture, being exposed to so many different people and generating so much interest.”

6 showing of the film in Evanston, which also featured a performance

by Offendum.

“We’re proud of ourselves that as students and in such a short period of time, our film has reached a very wide audience,” Khaled says.

“We are very happy because we wanted people to be as interested in hip-hop and feel the same way we did when we listened to this music.”

The students hope to further pursue their film project as hip-hop culture and youth-led reforms are becoming increasingly relevant in the Arab world today.

“The plan, insha’Allah (God-willing), is to do a bigger documentary,” Farhoud says. “With the revolutions in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya, we want to see how youth are affected and what hip-hop is like there.”

While many may not associate hip-hop, graffiti and beatboxing with Arab culture, “Broken Records” illustrates how seemingly different cultural traditions can intersect and thrive with everyday life through new and growing art forms.

17 // SPRING 2011

AL BAYAN

REVIEWS

STANDING STRONG IN THE FACE OF UNCERTAINTY Despite mediocre cinematography, “Bilal’s Stand” reflects a greater purpose to unite a disjointed community. By Rayyan Najeeb

S

ultan Sharieff’s film debut, “Bilal’s Stand,” is a community-coordinated production set in modern Detroit. An official selection at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, the narrative is themed as a struggle between upward mobility and family abandonment. Sharieff screens his autobiographical story with rough cinematography and sub-par acting.

Bilal (Julian Gant), an AfricanAmerican Muslim student about to graduate high school, wants to break the cycle of poverty prevalent within his community. The main obstacle in his way is his family – they cannot come to terms with how they will run their taxi stand while Bilal is away in college. The plot is ridden with death within the family, incarceration and teen pregnancy, ultimately complicating Bilal’s uncertain resolve that shifts at the slightest external influence.

18 // SPRING 2011

It is easy to bash the film’s cliché themes and the amateur cinematography, or even the acting – and maybe overreacting – of the characters. However, a point of distinction should be made: this film’s ultimate goal was not the finished product, rather it was the production process.

Sharieff casts people from his own past as the actors in this film, which tells the story of his life. He taps into Detroit inner-city youth in need of an alternative positive outlet as crew members for the project. It is reminiscent of a real-life “Be Kind Rewind,” a movie in which the community comes together to produce their own film and fundraise to keep a local VHS rental store in business.

Not only does the film’s purpose succeed in bringing the Detroit community together, but it also manages to speak with a new lens not often seen in classic Hollywood themes. It

is clear after the first few scenes that the balancing act between family and upward mobility is simply a manifestation of what Bilal truly holds closest to his heart: his faith.

Muslims and non-Muslims alike can understand how Bilal’s faith provides a driving force for every decision he makes. The viewers develop an appreciation for their freedom to let faith play a vast role in their lives, as opposed to the obstacles that hinder Bilal from practicing his faith freely. He is alone in his struggle, which is clear in the juxtaposition of his relatives living in the cycle of poverty, while Bilal takes a stand to improve conditions for himself and his family.

Sharieff deserves respect for his ultimate purpose – viewers should watch “Bilal’s Stand” in the interest of supporting his cause but should also approach the film with an expectation of sub-par cinema.

A heroine from within

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REVIEWS

“The Dressmaker of Khair Khana: Five Sisters, One Remarkable Family, and the Woman Who Risked Everything to Keep Them Safe” by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon, a former ABC News journalist, is, above all else, a tale of survival. By Nazihah Adil

“We’re far more accustomed to – and comfortable with – seeing women portrayed as victims of war who deserve our sympathy rather than as resilient survivors who deserve our respect. I was determined to change this.”

And change it she does. In “The Dressmaker of Khair Khana: Five Sisters, One Remarkable Family, and the Woman Who Risked Everything to Keep Them Safe,” Gayle Tzemach

Lemmon tells the inspirational story of Kamila Sidiqi, a young Afghan woman caught in the crosshairs of war. Banned from school and forced to travel in the presence of a mahram, or male relative, Sidiqi and her sisters overcome the obstacles of life under the Taliban to create a thriving sewing business that provides the neighborhood women a means of survival and a refuge from the grim realities of daily life.

Sidiqi sees her world turned upside down when the Taliban enter Kabul and enforce their strict interpretation of Shari’ah, or religious law. Confined to her home, Sidiqi is forced to put her dream of teaching on hold. When her father and brother are forced to leave the city, Sidiqi is left to care for her family. In an attempt to survive the harsh realities of life under Taliban rule, Sidiqi crafts a plan to launch a dressmaking business.

The business grows into a profitable enterprise under her care and direction.

“The Dressmaker of Khair Khana” is a tale of determination and the power of will.

It reads as a willful

attempt to make do in the face of extreme hardships. Its stubborn heroine battles all odds and perseveres in the face of despair. It is also a tale about women, about their innumerable sacrifices and thankless efforts that provide hope and inspiration in times of war. And perhaps most of all, it reinforces the importance of economic empowerment for women around the world.

But “The Dressmaker of Khair Khana” is not unique as an account of hardships under Taliban rule. The tumultuous history of Afghanistan has inspired countless stories, and “The Dressmaker of Khair Khana” is another addition to this expanding oeuvre. What separates this book from the others is its unlikely hero, a young Afghan woman who finds herself in a unique position to mobilize her local community and address its needs. While such books often underscore the efforts of their Western heroes, “The Dressmaker of Khair Khana” shines a light on the unlikely change-makers of Afghanistan, the women who form the backbone of the nation.

“The Dressmaker of Khair Khana” is a story of survival, but it is also a tale of the bonds of sisterhood and the power of determination amidst turmoil. While the story of the Sidiqi sisters deserves to be told, parts of the book read like a familiar account of life under Taliban rule; the repetitive story line and limited narrative depth weaken its impact. The book thus serves as a contribution to the literature if only for a look into the life of its heroine and the daily lives of women in Afghanistan.

19 // SPRING 2011

A STAIRCASED TRIP

Story & photos by Christina Walker

“You’re not human if you’re not feeling empathy in an emotional situation, and it can help you as a reporter.”

A table set with handmade Christmas candles was one of many displays at the Jesuit Refugee Service in Amman, Jordan. Mariaham Alries, a 22-year-old woman dressed fashionably in a white blouse with darkwashed jeans, was among several Iraqi refugees who showcased crafted items. Our discussion turned quickly from her hobby to why she started it in the first place – to cope with the barriers she faced while living in Baghdad. The tone of conversation abruptly changed as Alries shared that her brother had been kidnapped.

Suddenly, the common empathetic response of “I know how you feel” didn’t seem so fitting.

When I boarded the plane with seven other Northwestern University students for a reporting trip in the Middle East, nothing fully prepared me for the stories I would hear, and the steps I would take on the journey to becoming a better journalist.

We reported on the living conditions of refugees as a group led by Peter Slevin, a Washington Post reporter. Our team was part of a larger project known as Refugee Lives, an initiative organized by Jack Doppelt, a Medill professor who also organized teams in Malawi and Namibia for the same project. From the people we interviewed to the translators who conveyed our message, we were invited into their culture, their homes, their pasts and their hopes for the future.

It was a lesson in diversity, a lesson in unity, but it was also a lesson in selflessness.

Alries was one of many refugees

we spoke with regarding the situation of those who had fled across the IraqiJordanian border into Amman during the Iraq war. Many had lost family members, their skin still brushed by the nearness of death, their ears still ringing from the sound of consistent bombings. Despite having escaped the volatile condition of living in Baghdad during the seven-year war, Jordanians had their own trials.

There was the challenge to create a new home, to restore stability. There was the challenge to provide education to one’s children. All of this was lined with the burden of employment and finances.

Oddly enough, there is frequently the tendency to say “I know how you feel” in response to such a harrowing experience. It’s one way of relating to the other person by tying the situation back to oneself. However, in these situations the experience often doesn’t tie back. I didn’t know how Alries or the other people we spoke to felt. I couldn’t even imagine it. Listening to her story, I strove to remove myself from this tendency. Instead of imagining how I might feel, I tried to see how the person in front of me felt, as she recalled the three days during which her brother was kidnapped and held for a $40,000 ransom.

As a team, our Jordan group made a conscious effort to report the issues faced by Iraqi refugees living in Amman with a similar selfless approach.

We attempted to act as intermediaries, portraying the stories of people who might not have otherwise been

heard.

“You’re not human if you’re not feeling empathy in an emotional situation,” Slevin says. “It can help you as a reporter to understand what’s going on if you’re feeling it yourself. At the same time, there is a fine line and you need to be able to step back a bit and be attuned to what else is going on.”

Upon our return, we often faced questions like “How did you feel?” or “What went through your mind?”

I felt guilty answering the questions in a way that related the experience back to my feelings or my thoughts because it wasn’t about me.

“It’s important that reporters remember who they are when they go into difficult situations or just complex situations,” Slevin says. “It can never be about them. It’s about them telling the stories of the people to whom it is happening.”

Roughly 40 miles away from the border most refugees fled across, the fears of those we spoke to sat just next door. Their feet tread upon the same soil, their breaths filled with the same desert air. Nearly seven thousand miles away now in a comfortable suburbanite area, I hope to make those fears as real to others as they were made real to me.

What I want to make most known, however, is despite losing their homeland, rich with memories and family history, the refugees we spoke with remained strong, hopeful and refused to let the difficulties of the past dictate their future. Theirs is a story worth telling.

21 // SPRING 2011

AL BAYAN

OPINION

THE COSTS OF VICTORY As Americans react to the death of Osama bin Laden, one writer reflects on our civil responsibilities and the future of the War on Terror. By Sana Rahim

22 // SPRING 2011

updates exclaiming that the War on Terror had finally been won.

What was most troubling, however, was that we were having little to no discussion about the underreported and unbelievable fiscal and human costs of the war the U.S. has been waging for the past 10 years. The war that the U.S. propagated to catch Bin Laden was not immune to gross errors and innocent casualties.

According to the National Journal, nearly $3 trillion was spent in pursuit of Bin Laden. The Independent reported that upwards of 500,000 civilians have been killed in the past 10 years in Afghanistan and Iraq. There was little to no public recognition of the civilian life lost in the strategy used post-Sept. 11. There was a disturbing failure to empathize – just as we lost countless lives during Sept. 11, U.S. military engagements in three countries have lead to thousands of innocent deaths in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan.

It disturbed me to see Northwestern University students running around campus screaming “Go USA!” when all I could do was relive the death, destruction and suffering that Sept. 11 brought

to this world and how one enemy’s death could never erase that memory. There is decorum for celebration. Remembering the loss that preceded this occasion with humility and honor is invaluable to our integrity as American citizens, and moreover, as human beings.

Osama bin Laden’s death certainly represents a moment of triumph for the American people. However, we should be uncomfortable when anyone says that the past 10 years of foreign policy have been the best way to accomplish this end. As American citizens, it is not only our right but our civic duty to critically analyze the actions of our government, especially when those actions affect millions of people who do not reside in this country.

The best victories come from moral leadership, not military force. Winning the war on terror will require the socioeconomic development of a world that continues to be vulnerable to organizations like al-Qaida. As true American patriots, lovers of freedom and advocates of democracy, we need to critically examine our past errors and imagine a better future.

Photo provided by rxb2

At 10:00 p.m. on Sunday May 1, like millions of people around the world, I sat in front of my television anxiously awaiting what I knew was going to be a historic moment in American history.

When Osama bin Laden’s death was finally announced, I didn’t know how to feel.

It was indeed a moment of victory – he was someone who had committed murderous, horrific, vile acts of terrorism, waving the banner of Islam every time he did so. As an American Muslim, I felt a deep sense of relief that he was gone.

Osama bin Laden misconstrued my faith to propagate hatred, violence and murder.

In some ways, his vitriolic ideology dictated the stereotypes against which I have spent most of my adult life fighting.

But I quickly realized the complexity of the moment the American nation was experiencing. Bin Laden was undoubtedly the central enemy in the War on Terror, but he stood for a movement that is still very much alive and threatening the stability and development of the Muslim world. It was disappointing and frightening to see countless Facebook and Twitter

now trending on twitter: #muslims @LupeFiasco: And Islam is PERFECT. Muslims are NOT. Nor are ANY humans or their ideas or institutions or politics. Perfection is a quality of God alone.

[Aug. 16, 2010]

@rezaaslan: 2 Muslim men en route to a conference on Islamophobia removed from Delta flight bc of their dress. Can u say IRONIC? [May 7, 2011] @MikeTyson: The principles of Islam are peace & love. Please don’t confuse Osama’s views as the view of Muslims. [May 2, 2011]

TWEETS

@EbooPatel: Did Peter Bergen just say on #CNN that killing of #BinLaden marks end of War on Terror? Wonder if/how that will play out. [May 1, 2011] @gazamom: Cousin in #Gaza just told us Rafah Crossing is now open 24/7!!!! My eyes welled up hearing the news...!

[April 30, 2011]

@Ahmed_Rehab: #Islamophobia and #Antisemitism have a lot in common. One should not be condemned while condoning the other.

[April 14, 2011]

@DaisyKhan: Women’s history is one history. egyptian women remember “power is never given, it has to be taken”. [Mar. 8, 2011]

AL BAYAN

@StephenAtHome: The President doesn’t have a plan for Libya, any more than I have a plan for this tweet. Hm, now what? Look, a balloon!

[March 29, 2011]

>>THINGS WE LIKEY rick Rose, r e D : e n i d Na nd Snuggies arritos u Chipotle b

in ds Molesk Heba: ew Headban r ’ s .C e J oks, k Tim notebo he New Yor lumn and T rn Love co Mode

Noreen: Cranberry tuna from Whole Foods, Bollywood singalongs and dancing in the rain

Kaw ther: Kuwait, earrings, Disney songs

23 // SPRING 2011

The Hassan II Mosque, also pictured on the inside cover, is located in Casablanca, Morocco and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. Completed in 1993, its construction was inspired by a verse of the Qur’an (Surah Hud, verse 7) that states that “[God’s] Throne was over the Waters.”

The impressive architectural design, resembling that of the Alhambra in Granada, Spain, boasts the largest minaret in the world adorned with incredible details. The golden archways stand in beautiful contrast to the Moroccan night sky.