Welcome back to ‘Eyb, my newsletter in which I write frankly on topics that growing up as an Arab woman I would often be told are ‘eyb, or shameful. I also write about current affairs affecting womxn and marginalised communities, and share my latest work as well as my reading/watching/listening recommendations.
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“Are you praying yet?” Baba asked me, as he drove me to school one morning. I was in Year 8 at the time and about 13 years old.
“No, when I went to the toilet this morning there was still some drops of blood,” I replied.
“I didn’t need to know that,” he said, sounding annoyed. “You just need to say, ‘I am still not able to pray.’”
(The context here is Muslim women are excused from their five daily prayers when they have their period. Aside from the fact that any type of external bleeding breaks that state of being “in wudu” (the state of having performed ablutions), it also gives us the opportunity to rest and recuperate.)
“Being on holiday.” “Having my monthlies.” “Having my cycle.” “I have my thing.”
These are some of the “polite” terms that myself and other Arab women I grew up with used in Arabic with each other to say we were on our periods. With male family members, it was just “we aren’t praying.”
Why were we so embarrassed to use the word “period?” Why couldn’t we talk openly about the fact we bled from our vaginas, even with other menstruating people?
This isn’t something confined to Arab women; across the globe there’s still a level of shame and taboo associated to having your period and speaking openly about it. We are made to feel dirty or impure; we become subjects that need to be hidden away for seven days.
When I was a young woman living in Qatar, there were so many times I remember hiding packets of sanitary towels in the folds of my abaya while at the supermarket or local convenience store, feeling embarrassed if they moved along the conveyor belt at the checkout in plain sight of men.
This isn’t something associated with Islam. In fact, in the first Muslim community, women openly asked the Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) questions regarding their periods and his wife Aishah (may Allah be Pleased with her), was a fountain of knowledge when it came to gynaecological topics, and men and women alike used to go to her to ask questions and speak openly about it.
Fatima bint Abi Hubaish asked the Prophet, "I got persistent bleeding (in between the periods) and do not become clean. Shall I give up prayers?" He replied, "No, this is from a blood vessel. Give up the prayers only for the days on which you usually get the menses and then take a bath and offer your prayers." (Sahih Bukhari)
So if periods and gynaecology were discussed so openly by our ancestors, why has it become such a taboo topic today?
The taboo and stigmatisation as usual is something cultural. In Arab communities women are taught to behave on a level that is beyond “modest” (whatever modest means) and more within the realms of extreme shyness and prudeness. A woman who openly discusses her period - especially in the presence of men (unthinkable for most) - would be considered shameless, rude and out of order.
When we get married, our families are so eager for us to get pregnant, yet do not want to talk about the processes associated to getting pregnant!
Coming from a religious family, as a tween (aged 10-12 years old), my parents explained periods to me within the context of religion. It was about how my period would affect my prayers and my fasting, it was about it marking the beginning of my status of being “baaligh” (reaching puberty) and hence being obligated to wear my hijab full time - it was not about period pain or changes to my body.
When my sister was about 3 years old, she once wrapped her naked Barbie dolls in Mum’s sanitary towels like dresses, and brought them in to show to my dad’s fellow Egyptian friend who was visiting. My dad’s friend’s face turned a shade of scarlet and the look of horror on my dad’s face is one that I can still envision now, 26 years later!
Since having my son Ammar, I feel a lot more brazen about speaking about my periods and gynaecological issues publicly. My C-Section has resulted in the formation of cysts and excruciating periods with heavy bleeding as well as painful sex, and over the past year I have been on a journey to find the right pain relief and get seen to by a gynaecologist.
I have been charting my journey publicly on my Twitter account to connect with others, gain more knowledge, raise awareness and share my experiences. If I had stayed silent, not only would I have suffered alone, I may not have been pointed in the right direction to more information and treatment options. By speaking about it openly, I have felt less isolated.
Our vaginas and ovaries are just like any other organ in our bodies - we feel no shame when we talk about our hearts or our kidneys. Yet culturally, the notion of “honour” has been tied to our vulvas and vaginas, and our ovaries have become state-controlled property, with governments worldwide controlling our access to gynaecological treatment, contraception and abortions.
Yet at the same time, as much as our ovaries are controlled, we also struggle to get our primary physicians to take our gynaecological issues seriously, and when we are finally believed, we are put on long waiting lists to get seen to by gynaecologists.
Stigma and shame are bred at home and get reinforced from generation to generation - being open with our children when talking about our bodies and bodily functions is the way forward to them being educated on completely normal body processes like periods, and hopefully ending this cycle of shame.
Upcoming events…
I am so excited to be taking part in a number of brilliant events in June and July at Bradford Literature Festival and the Hammersmith and Fulham Writers Festival. If you are based in the UK and are interested in coming along, please use the links below to sign up!
I’ll be talking to scholar Dr Hizer Mir and journalist and author Hussein Kesvani on Sunday 25th June 2023 at 5:30pm at Bradford Literature Festival about a topic that is close to my heart: toxic masculinity and the red pill movement as a recent phenomenon within the male Muslim community. Book your place here.
Really excited to be hosting the film screening and Q&A for journalist and author Dr Myriam François’ directorial debut, Finding Alaa, on Sunday 2nd July 2023 at 1pm, also at Bradford Literature Festival. A grandfather searches a North Syrian refugee camp to save his granddaughter. His son, her father, was an ISIS member responsible for the 2015 Paris Attack. Book your place here.
I will be speaking with my dear friend, scholar and author Dr Sofia Rehman and brilliant authors Hira Ali and Fatha Hassan at Hammersmith and Fulham Writers Festival on Saturday 8th July 2023 at 1pm about Muslim women’s narratives in literature. Sign up for the event here.
What I have been writing…
Picture from The New Arab
I interviewed Dr Sofia Rehman about her new book, A Treasury of Aishah published by Kube for The New Arab. We looked at Aishah, the Prophet Muhammed’s wife, through the lens of social justice, politics and more. Read my feature here and check out Sofia’s book here.
What I’ve been reading…
Excellent column in The Bookseller by British YA author Kate Weston on the need to depict periods in children, teens and young adults’ books. Read Period Positivity.
This article in The New Yorker about Muslim couples in university wanting secret marriages may be from 2022 but is still relevant today. Read The Debate Over Muslim College Students Getting Secret Marriages.
A brilliant article in MED FemiNiswiya on female Middle Eastern icons who died by suicide after decades of suffering behind closed doors. Read The Daughters of Dany Bustros, Sylvia Plath and Soad Hosny.
What I’ve been listening to…
Thanks to the brilliant recommendations I receive every month in Alya Mooro’s The Greater Conversation newsletter, I discovered journalist Layla Maghribi’s podcast Third Culture Therapy. I particularly enjoyed her conversation with Kuwaiti author Layla Al Ammar on Arab women and trauma in Arab literature. Available on Apple podcasts and Spotify.
Finally, if you enjoy my work and want to support me, consider buying a copy of my semi-autobiographical novel, Hijab and Red Lipstick, published by Hashtag Press.
Longlisted for The Diverse Book Awards 2021, Hijab and Red Lipstick is a rare insight into what life is like as a young Arab woman growing up in the Arab Gulf. Find it on Amazon, Waterstones, Blackwells, and worldwide on the Book Depository.