Welcome to ‘Eyb, my newsletter in which I write frankly on topics considered taboo, controversial or ‘eyb (shameful). I also write about current affairs affecting women and marginalised communities, and sometimes share my crazy life anecdotes, as well as my reading/viewing/listening recommendations.
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When I moved back to the UK from Qatar six years ago I realised that I had a lot of pent-up anger.
Soon after returning I met and married my now husband. So determined was I not to continue a generational cycle of controlling husband vs. silent wife who bottles-it-all-up-inside, that any hint of controlling behaviour from my husband was met by anger from my end. I was convinced that if I did not take a firm stance on everything, that I would be walked all over.
Whether this was or was not the right way to go about things, you tell me, but it did not help foster a loving or affectionate relationship. We were in a perpetual cycle of harshness and anger and it culminated in us breaking up temporarily.
I was new to feminism at the time, and perhaps wrongfully interpreted being feminist in a marriage meaning getting my way all the time, making me unwilling to consult or compromise.
Looking back on it now, I wonder whether my pride was getting in the way as opposed to being a “good feminist.”
Consulting my husband felt like “needing a man’s guidance” so I refused to do it. I would make a decision and charge ahead with it, always telling and never asking my husband.
When my husband and I reconciled after our breakup I realised that I had not spoken to him much about my past, and the ways in which men in various settings had hurt, taken advantage of me or treated me badly.
All those times where I had let men, both related and unrelated, get away with their behaviour, whether that was family members controlling how I behaved, what I wore, where I went and who I could be friends with, or non family members who forced me into situations I did not want, and in each case I had stayed silent.
That context was missing, so my husband thought I was just a generically angry woman.
It was as if once I caught just a whiff of my husband trying to behave in a way that our culture saw as a “traditional” patriarchal husband, I told myself, “no more” and put my foot down straight away.
I didn’t just put my foot down, I stamped it, and in the process stamped through our relationship the way Rumpelstiltskin stamps through the floor in the German fairy tale.
All this happened around the same time I wrote my semi-autobiographical novel, Hijab and Red Lipstick. And I feel as if my story was also written from a place of anger.
While I’m not sure whether my rage was necessary at the start of my marriage, I do believe that rage and anger have their time and place, and are necessary stages of the grieving process.
In fact, it was the anger and rage I channeled through my keyboard that gave birth to my book. It was a cathartic process that also helped me move towards closure for several traumatic life events.
Growing up as a girl and young woman, I was conditioned to believe that only men were allowed to be angry. Men could exhibit their rage and get away with it. We are even told that this type of behaviour is inherent in a man’s make-up.
When a woman is angry and demonstrates her rage she is seen as violent, aggressive, disrespectful, hysterical and/or crazy.
In my Islamic faith high importance is placed on controlling one’s anger; but that is in the context of anger that hurts another person, whether verbally or physically.
I believe in some instances - when not directed at other people with the intent to harm - anger is both warranted and positive. It can be used for change, in particular social justice. It says, “I will not put up with this anymore - this needs to change.”
In her book Seven Necessary Sins for Women and Girls, Egyptian feminist and writer Mona El Tahawy says, "Anger is the first of the seven sins. But anger has to be channeled and anger has to be accompanied by the other six sins."
In the past I may have failed at using my anger in a constructive manner, but Hijab and Red Lipstick, my journalism work and this newsletter have shown me how my writing enables me to channel my anger methodically and effectively.
What I’ve been writing…
Muslim Census recently released a report based on their research on British Muslim women’s access to worship space and to Islamic education. A shocking 1 in 5 women who took part in their research project reported having been turned away from a mosque. I delved deeper into their findings and learned how British Muslim women are creating their own sacred spaces for The New Arab, in A digital spiritual revolution: When it comes to their faith, British Muslim women are taking matters into their own hands.
What I’ve been reading…
I absolutely loved this interview with Musawah scholar Dr Ziba Mir-Hosseini in fellow Substack newsletter SWANA Speaks, by Parisa Hashempour, Islam doesn’t speak, they speak for Islam.
Fascinating piece in Foreign Policy on something many of us have noticed for a while - Arab, specifically Gulf leaders, funding and promoting interfaith initiatives while at the same time arresting Islamic scholars and suppressing Islamic movements in their home countries. Read The Arab Autocrat’s New Religious Playbook by Jon Hoffman.
Another great piece by Parisa Hashempour, this time for Stylist, on how Eurocentric the Mediterranean diet is, in Is our health obsession with the Mediterranean diet actually kind of racist? Why the benefits extend far beyond Italy and Greece.
A piece I really resonated with in The New Arab as a fairly new mum who feels that mosques aren’t always baby-friendly. Reade Nadeine Asbali’s Our mosques need to be accessible to mothers and children, that is the Prophetic tradition.
What I’ve been listening to…
Nour Helou Shi Ghareeb
Bashar Murad Llel Majnoon
Mabel Matiz Aferin
Saint Levant From Gaza, With Love
Hijazi ft. Elyanna Youm Wara Youm 2022 Remix
Sami Yusuf The Persian Nightingale
Omar Faruk Tekbilek Long Wait
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, WH Smith and Blackwells.