Between a rock and a hard place
The importance of being vocal about injustices no matter who the perpetrator is
Welcome back to ‘Eyb, my fortnightly newsletter in which I write frankly about topics that growing up as a young Arab woman I would be told were ‘eyb or shameful to speak openly about. I also share life anecdotes, and what I’ve been working on.
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Egyptian American feminist, journalist, and author Mona El Tahawy often writes about what it is like being caught between a rock and a hard place as a Muslim woman (read about it here). It’s something that I’ve felt deeply for a number of years - what Dr. Sofia Rehman refers to in her essay The Gift of Second Sight in anthology Cut From the Same Cloth? as a triple consciousness - a three-way weighted responsibility of standing up to Islamophobia, standing up to the patriarchy in all its forms, and then also being vocal and addressing the issues and challenges within our Muslim community.
We’re between a rock and a hard place because our community only wants to address its issues behind closed doors - there is currently rampant spiritual abuse within the community; every time I open Twitter I discover yet another male spiritual figure has been found out to be a serial cheater, sexual predator, or perpetrator of different types of abuse. It’s left me internally raging for weeks. Men on social media are quick to defend them and gaslight and shame women who are vocal about it - these are the same men who will tell us to assume the abusers are “innocent until proven guilty” despite an overwhelming amount of evidence and testimonies, but participate in a social media pile-on when a female Muslim social media influencer decides not to wear a headscarf anymore.
As a Muslim woman when you are vocal and stand up to such abuse you are quickly told to retract your posts, or accused of providing fuel for a non-Muslim audience to use in their Islamophobia. Sometimes, you’re even accused of siding with Islamophobes. The thing is, the time for hush-hush conversations behind closed doors is over. There is never any accountability, or follow-through on promises for change when conversations take place behind closed doors. And that’s why we need to have these conversations in the public sphere, regardless of who else can access them.
This epidemic of spiritual abuse within the community has been unfolding online during the time in which we all watched the Taliban seize control of Afghanistan. And again I feel I am between a rock and hard place - I vehemently disagree with the Taliban and don’t believe in their “interpretation of the Shari’ah.” I’ve watched and read in trepidation the reports of Afghan women saying they are in fear of their lives, and in fear of being barred from returning to school, university, or work.
I’ve seen the photos emerging of the Taliban’s new “dress code” for female students wanting to carry on going to university, and my heart hurt at the news of their replacement of the Ministry of Women’s Affairs with a “Ministry for Preaching and Guidance and the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice.” But I also don’t agree with the Western lens through which the news has been coming out, nor the idea that only Western armies can “save the women.” You only need to see the recent protests by Afghan women to know they can stand up for themselves.
All these references to “20 years of hard work being undone” and their taking sole credit for the liberation of Afghan women. It would be a folly to truly believe that Western powers went to war in Afghanistan in 2001 for the purpose of freeing the women, and not for their imperialist motives. It reminded me of how French and British colonialists set about their public unveiling of women in Muslim-majority countries like Egypt and Algeria in the early 20th century, utilizing feminism for their imperialist agenda, while back in Britain and France during that same time women had minimal rights and the suffragettes were getting arrested for their work. Then there’s the refusal to acknowledge that Afghan men are also in danger and are victims too.
It sometimes feels as if you’re expected to take sides - that either you side with your community and stay silent in the face of its problems to protect its image, or you “side with the West” despite its constant problematic depictions and treatment of Islam - but an injustice is an injustice, no matter who the perpetrator is.
What I’ve been watching…
Okay it’s actually been a month now since I watched Jordanian Netflix series Al Rawabi School for Girls but it’s an unforgettable series. I started off thinking there was a lot of pink in this high school drama, a slightly cringey school anthem, and lots of Mean Girls vibes, but after the first episode things turned dark and intense very quickly. The series tells the tale of Mariam’s plan for revenge when she is brutally beaten up by trio of bullies Layan, Ruqayya and Rania.
It’s a good lesson on the consequences of leaving bullying unchecked. One of the most disturbing things for me was how Mariam is pushed to a point where she thinks utilizing the society’s patriarchal and misogynistic beliefs and practises is okay in her plan for retribution. The series is bold and an accurate insight into prevailing patriarchal perceptions, beliefs, and practises within Arab societies.
What I’ve been listening to…
I’ve been feeling mesmerized by Kuwaiti musician and artist Fatima Al Qadiri’s latest musical offering, her 2021 album Medieval Femme, which is available on Spotify. Her trademark use of synth and electronic music is fused with the classical sounds of medieval Islamic music, in a dreamlike album which she says was inspired by the poetry of classical female Arab poets like Al-Khansa.
If you enjoy my writing and want to support me, do check out and buy a copy of my semi-autobiographical novel Hijab and Red Lipstick based on my experiences growing up under the guardianship system in the Gulf. Available in paperback and e-book from Hashtag Press, Amazon, Waterstones, Blackwell’s, and Book Depository.