“Empty feminine packages...and blank slates,” this is how Umm Zakiyyah describes the self-effacing ethic Muslim women are expected to assume in their romantic partnerships. In her view, the Muslim community has arrived at this impoverished understanding of womanhood thru an inversion of Islamic teaching.

The Qur’anic teaching is clear in its mandate to men to “maintain and protect” women. However, attitudes like those expressed above encourage women to shrink in order to maintain and protect the egos of men in their fragility. 

Umm Zakiyyah is a novelist, spiritual leader, and advocate for women. Her work focuses on fostering wholistic wellness and equanimity through purposeful engagement with Islamic practice. My wife, Hadiyah Muhammad, had been studying with Umm Zakiyyah and encouraged me to review her recent book, But Do You Feel Safe with Him? 10 Reasons Why Performing Femininity Never Works in Love. I read the book and am thankful to them both for an opportunity to enrich my perspective.

​Friday marked the first night of the blessed month of Ramadan. Mashallah, it appears that the three principal ways of determining the matla’ produced the same result: a) Global moonsighting b) Local moonsighting c) Astronomical calculation.

I was genuinely pleased at this outcome. In years past, I would celebrate the diversity of opinion on this issue. “The fact that Muslims disagree on matters such as the beginning of Ramadan is proof of our sincerity. Each group is exhausting the full stock of its resources to determine God’s Will. Disagreement exists because these things matter to us.” In a certain sense, I would use the contentiousness of the Muslim community to explain what made us distinct in a time of widespread nihilism. That really strikes me as strange now.

​Although I haven’t repudiated my initial embrace of intramural religious pluralism, this year’s ALIM Winter Program, held at MCC East Bay, was a reminder of the value of unity. Disagreement is inevitable. However, elevating disagreement to being a “distinguishing feature” and badge of honor might have been a miscalculation. We are stronger and more capable of realizing the objectives of our collective mission when we are united.

It’s Wednesday, November 6th and the results are in. Donald Trump will be the next president of the United States of America. In the lead up to the election, conversations within the American Muslim community were tense and sometimes even caustic.

A Trump presidency and the impending policy (foreign and domestic) consequences likely to accompany it risk exacerbating tensions. Among the many potentially explosive conversations I observed online was the recurring Blackamerican versus immigrant exchange—“immigrant” is such an imprecise term and is often used to refer to people of South Asian, Southeast Asian, Middle Eastern, North African, Continental African, etc descent even when they were born and raised in the US! Nonetheless, as a discursive category it may still be useful…maybe.

In his esteemed collection of rigorously authenticated Prophetic traditions, Imam al-Bukhārī records the statement of the Prophet (upon him be peace): “The best deeds in the sight of God are those that are performed with the greatest consistency.”
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The American Learning Institute for Muslims (ALIM) has been hosting its annual summer program for a quarter century. Needless to say, much has changed in 25 years. However, ALIM has demonstrated incredible consistency. We’ve remained committed to our mission. We empower Muslims through Islamic literacy.

As a signifier of commitment to progressive values, the terms “diversity and inclusion” are nearly ubiquitous. The past decade or so has witnessed “diversity and inclusion” move from the Affirmative Action inspired charters of schools and businesses to a vibrant part of our media, art, and vernacular cultures. Put differently, we no longer only expect diversity and inclusion where we work or study; it’s something we’ve come to seek more broadly. Taken at face value, this shift toward plurality should inspire American Muslims with great satisfaction. Our faith affords inter- religious/cultural exchange and ultimately familiarity, spiritual value. The Qur’ān proclaims:

Dr. Sherman Jackson is very eloquent, mashallah. In fact, so appreciated is his ability to “turn a phrase” that we jokingly use the term “Jacksonian” to describe the rhetorical flourishes for which he’s known. However, the most eloquent I’ve ever heard him is in response to a question about the “essence of Ramadan.” For Dr. Jackson, such a broad, open-ended question was like a pitch right down the middle of the plate. So in his simple response, “Ramadan is about being hungry” he appeared to bunt. A slight chuckle could be heard among the audience. For many, he had either ironically or jokingly stated the obvious.
 
Hunger is undoubtedly our most primal urge. It is at once the greatest unifying factor within our humanity and the source of our greatest disparity. And for all that could be correctly said concerning our advocacy around hunger: the obligation to fight it, to repudiate the greed that subjects so many of our fellow men and women to it involuntarily, the unacceptable callousness with which we turn a blind eye to those afflicted by hunger, it remains a perennial human universal.

When the question is: What book initially piqued your interest in Islam? Surprisingly, the Qur’ān (in any of its various translations) is not the most referenced book by Americans who eventually embrace Islam. That distinction actually belongs to the Autobiography of Malcolm X.
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In fact, it has always been my contention that Malcolm fits perfectly into the traditional Islamic discourse around wilāya (an idea similar to sainthood within Roman Catholicism sans the beatification and canonization) and karāmāt (miracles). Within this understanding, Malcolm is a walī and the influence of his autobiography is his miracle. In all, I have personally encountered over 100 Muslims who have cited Malcolm’s story as their gateway into Islam—and I’m sure there are many more.​

One of the most insightful religious reflections I ever heard was mentioned by an atheist. During the Q and A that directly followed my lecture, a questioner from the audience rose to speak. He was a middle-aged white man of slender build, dressed in business casual (chinos and a plaid button down shirt) clothing, and wearing glasses. I got the sense that he was a member of the faculty at the small college at which I was presenting. After thanking me for my remarks, which, if I recall correctly, were about Islam and Post-Modernity or something like that, he sought my permission to venture slightly off topic and ask a ‘personal’ question. Not knowing what to I expect, I forced a laugh and said, “well, it depends how personal.” After granting him permission, he identified himself as “an atheist but a seeker,” he then said, “I thought your remarks about religion were balanced. I’m clear about your conviction but it didn’t appear that you were attempting to evangelize [sic] the audience. I feel compelled to ask, what is the most challenging aspect of being a person of faith in the modern age?” The question was pithy and I don’t think any non-Muslim had ever posed it to me in such direct fashion.

BY: USTADH UBAYDULLAH EVANS
​ALIM Core Scholar and Scholar-in-Residence

"Diversity and inclusion" are more than just buzzwords in our contemporary society. They represent a profound shift in how we perceive, engage with, and value differences in an increasingly globalized world. Originating from Affirmative Action policies that sought to redress historical injustices in educational and corporate environments, these terms have evolved to encompass a broader societal ethos. They have transitioned from being mere institutional objectives to becoming deeply ingrained societal values that influence our daily interactions, media representations, and cultural expressions.​

“And never have We sent forth any apostle otherwise than [with a message] in his own people’s tongue” – Quran 14:4.

“England and America are two countries separated by the same language” – George Bernard Shaw.

In twenty-first-century America, speaking the moral language of normative Islam is tricky, to say the least. On the one hand, the current generation of Muslim Americans (in contrast to their immigrant forebearers) have now mastered the various idioms of colloquial American English along with its various cultural references, both high and low. On the other hand, the language of our ethics seems more foreign and garbled to mainstream America than ever. Like a well-meaning but embarrassingly naïve American tourist abroad, we often think that if we just raise our voice, speak slowly, and over-enunciate our words, people will eventually understand us:

“WE BELIEVE IN TRADITIONAL RELIGION. WE BELIEVE THAT OUR SCRIPTURE IS DIVINE SPEECH AND THAT WE MUST CONFORM ALL OF OUR ACTIONS TO THE WILL OF GOD, NOT LEAST OUR SEXUAL MORES.”

​Those fluent in the language of Tradition appreciate the nuanced connotations of such words; those who have grown up speaking a more modern language, however, just stare, half-amused and half-perplexed. But, whereas a generation ago, this socio-linguistic divide between Muslim Americans and mainstream society was taken for granted, the Muslim community itself is now unable to effectively talk to each other. As Shaw noted about England and America, the very fact that we are all ostensibly from the same highly specific background – Muslim and American – means that, while the words streaming forth from our mouths are ostensibly the same language, that very superficial commonality hinders actual communication even more than if we were speaking Chinese and Russian to one another.