“Like Allah the Samad, same-sex couples do not procreate, but they love, they create, and they nurture relationships that are tied together not by an earthly womb but by Divine Compassion.”
-GHAZALA ANWAR: "Elements of a Samadiyyah Shariah"
When I was 17 years old I was a senior in high school. I was wearing hijab and I went on everyday with my life with the idea that one day I am going to have a huge fancy wedding with prince charming. That my hijab is part of my identity and who i am, but is that true? It most definitely is not.
I have been wearing hijab since I was 4 years old. Yes 4. How ridiculous does that sound? To be honest that’s not really the problem. I have never identified as gay and I still don’t but that one relationship with a girl that I had turned my perspective around, a 360 degree turn.
My dad used to tell me that gay people are sick, my mom was repulsed at the idea of two men or two women kissing because it was “haram”. Is it haram? Only Allah knows. Anyway, back to being 17 and meeting the most amazing girl in the entire world. Meeting this girl, her name is Nalani. She was the most beautiful, exquisite, free-spirited person I had ever met. There was a problem at the time in my head though, she was still a GIRL. I was so confused at the time that she was a girl that because I had cared about her so much I was actually mean to her because I couldn’t comprehend that I actually had feelings for another woman, it was just so abnormal to me.
Meanwhile, a lot of time passed and I continued to struggle with my relationship because I loved her so much but we were hiding from the entire world. I mainly struggled with the idea of simultaneously accepting my hijab any my sexuality. We hid our relationship from the world for three years. I had been engaged to a man while Nalani and I were together because I thought that it would help mask my feelings for her, that obviously didn’t work. We both struggled for years trying to make sense of the hiding and that no one would ever accept us, it drained our relationship to the point where there was nothing left. On december 16th, 2013 my only girlfriend that I had fought to be with and suffered for years at a time for left me. The hiding was an external factor undoubtedly, but there were other internal factors that aided in her decision to end it.
Everyday for those 3 years i lived in constant fear of someone finding out. After my g/f broke up with me, I decided to take off my hijab and come out. Let me tell you, that this was the hardest thing I had ever had to do. I took my hijab off because I realized that I had no idea who I was, that I was only wearing hijab because I was afraid what people would say about me taking it off. I only stayed in the closet about my relationship because I didn’t want people to stop talking to me and my family to disown me. Now, the whole world knows about the relationship with this phenomenal young woman that I had in my life. Although we are no longer together I will never be ashamed to say that she was my girlfriend. I always struggled with the idea of being Muslim and being in a same-sex relationship, only to realize that those are two completely different things. I still have no idea what to identify myself as, but I ‘d like to keep it that way for now. My family was shocked and so were my friends. I used to introduce Nalani as my “friend” for years and to come to realize that she was my gf they couldn’t believe it. Many people distanced themselves, and many people actually became closer to me. My family still can’t accept it, I don’t think they ever will. That’s alright though, because they are my family. It’s a struggle everyday to say that I am Muslim and that I may like women too. It’s something many Muslims in the LGBTQ community struggle with. I just want you all to know though that it’s not the end of the world. Do not fight what feels right to you. If you are a man and love a man, if you are a woman and love a woman, do not fight it. Allah will judge you and only you. Allah swt is the most compassionate and forgiving, he is the all-knowing so don’t fear, go with what feels right. I wish I would have done this a long time ago. Stay strong.
Solidarity with our Shia family.
Before the Kaaba, we stop at a masjid near the Battle of Uhud to make wudu and change. It’s night, the masjid’s closed. An old man let’s us in. We pray, wash, change in darkness.
I’m struck by how small the masjid is. Four walls, a roof. Not much else. It reminds me of the mosques i grew up in. Converted houses and gas stations. Portable buildings we’d have to repair after Sunday school. Jummahs under an aluminum roof, the khutbah crackling through an old speaker.
The Harem was different in every way. 90 acres of marble, limestone, silver and gold. Lights illuminating every corner. Sound echoing through dozens of speakers. Multiple levels and ready access for the elderly and disabled. An army of staff to keep it spotless/organized at all times. It’s no exaggeration to say it is the most advanced, modern mosque on the planet.
And at the center is the Kaaba: a 40 foot granite box draped in a black tarp. And even that’s ornate compared to the original, a set of walls no higher than Ibrahim and Ishmael. Look at these side by side comparisons:
Look at it! This is house of God, the holiest site on Earth. What does that tell us, that something so revered comes in such a simple, humble presentation?
Every masjid falls somewhere between the Kaaba and the Harem, in terms of intricacy, size, modernity, etc. In the years since my Hajj, I’ve noticed a distinct trend towards the Harem. Even in my hometown, the portable buildings are being replaced by grander and grander structures.
Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m not one to fetishize tradition. There isn’t a single improvement to the Harem that I don’t agree with. Each one helps more and more people perform their sacred duty.
But it’s important to remember that not having these things isn’t something to be ashamed of. The sacredness of a masjid comes, first and foremost, from the prayers we offer there.
Next to prayer and Qu’ran, the sheik said, was zakat.
Here, zakat wasn’t just something you put in the masjid drop box. It was direct. Personal. We’d come face to face with the poverty we were alleviating.
In certain cases it wouldn’t even be asked for. People, even in the most dire situations, would just be happy to be on Hajj. It didn’t mean we shouldn’t give them zakat.
As if to illustrate this point, a man walked up to us and asked when the next prayer was. His walking cane trembled as he clutched his ragged clothes. When he walked away, a man in our group leaped to his feet and offered some money. Sheikh Ahmed praised him for it.
The rest of the Hajj, we came face to face with some of the most extreme poverty I’ve ever seen. I understood my privilege in a whole new light. I travelled easy and slept in a comfortable, fancy apartment. Some had petitioned the government for years, and traveled by foot, just so they could sleep on the floor of the Grand Mosque.
But they were on Hajj. For all their suffering, they would be rewarded, and greatly. And that’s the same with all suffering, in a way. When we worry about Allah and suffering, I think we worry that the injustices we see will carry on to the hereafter. But it won’t. Allah will not be unfair in judging us. Allah will not be unmerciful.
I’ve never stopped giving zakat. Whether it be to charities or to people on the street. That’s what Muslims do. We help each other, and those around us. The things we get in life, our money, talents, resources, all this comes from Allah. The question is what we do with those things.
This is how I’ve come to see zakat, and that view came from my time in the Hajj.
Even at my worst, I still gave zakat.
That was the advice our guide gave us on the way to Mecca. I was travelling with a group of a dozen, including my mother, who’d booked the trip. I was a teenager, and pouring my adolescent angst into Islam. I’d take every chance to learn from our guide, Sheikh Ahmed.
Prayer was vital. Prayers on Hajj be counted thousands of times (pilgrims joked that the total would make up for the ones they’d missed). Not only that, but there was also the pushing, shoving crowd to deal with.
"Don’t think about the crowd." Sheikh Ahmed said, "If you do, they’ll overwhelm you. Put you head down, and pray. ‘Oh, Allah, guide me. Keep me safe.’ If you do this, the crowd won’t touch you. Walk calmly, deliberately. There’s no need to worry about your steps, Allah will protect you, guide you. Believe that. You must always pray with assurance that Allah will answer you.”
In the coming days, I saw ample evidence of it. When it came time for tawaf or jamarat, the sheik would gather us around him. Heads down, we’d walk.
It was like something out of a movie. All around us was a maelstrom of people. Stones flew in all directions. But here we were, a line of five, calmly strolling as if nothing was there.
(But of course, something was there. When you pray, Allah is with you, whether you feel him or not.)
The thing is, it evaporated as soon as your concentration broke. Your mind would wander, or you’d notice a rock flying through the air. And it was like the protective shield vanished. Instantly you’d be elbowed or hit by a rock, and you’re in the frenzy.
And it wasn’t just us. One time, I saw a crowd gathered around a closed, locked door. Pushing, shoving each other to get to the front. Hoping to be let in so they could join the crowd inside.
At the back, two men looked at each other, smiled, put their gaze to their hands, and stepped forward. Next thing I know, they’re inside. Still walking, still praying.
Like, what’s a wall to Allah? It’s not a guard that lets you in. It’s Allah. Those two guys were just the only ones who asked him.
Here’s where I’m supposed to say it was a miracle. But was it? Or, more accurately, was it more of a miracle than all the other things we see in the world? The sunrise, a birth, the shade of trees, singing of birds. All of that is as much the grace of Allah as walking through walls. It’s just that the latter is less common. But it’s not impossible. With Allah, nothing is impossible.
The Hajj made me realize that.
For those of us who are rainbow identified, we are painfully aware of the fact that being queer or trans or gay or bi or a or inter… this does not exclude us from having to contend with the rollercoaster ride that is iman. The prophet Muhammad, PBUH, said that faith goes up and down. There are references in the Qur’an to things that will increase and decrease faith. There are countless books, stories, and khutbah about ways to improve our iman.
Even though this is something that all faith-havers have to deal with, it is especially difficult for LGBTQ* Muslims because if we turn to other Muslims that we trust to discuss faith and spiritual issues, we can be completely destroyed when the suggestion is to NOT be the way Allah made us.
I am a queer femme. I am also Muslim. And when I tried to have a conversation about personal issues with salaat, it was suggested to me that I leave my wife. My sexuality was mentioned as the quick fix for the problem. And to be completely honest, this was the last time I opened up to non-queer Muslims about how I was feeling.
I am, alhamdulillah, part of a queer Muslim community of people I can talk to and share with now. And fortunately, I have access to uplifting literature by some of the female Islamic scholars whose writing has really done wonders to help me through the open challenge to the patriarchal, heteronormative standards for the way we come to know and understand Islam, and Islamic knowledge.
"Reading the Signs" by Dr. Rabia T. Harris is the specific essay that has filled my heart up and done wonders to help increase my iman. This essay is in a book called "Windows of Faith" edited by Gisela Webb. If you can get your hands on it, do so. There are several works in this book that have helped me feel like I was not going crazy when I thought that it would be possible for me to be queer and Muslim.
And so with that, I’m starting to feel.. to really get why it was so important and so perfect for Allah to use “READ” as the very first command to Prophet Muhammad (SAWS)…and to us. Because it has been through reading that I was inspired to go to Jumu’ah.
In spite of the fact that I hadn’t gone in months.
In spite of the fact that the documentary I’m in is showing at several places in the country.
In spite of the fact that there are people in a community that I am no longer in community with.
There is a space for me to grow in Islam. There is a space for me to manifest my Islam in my life in a way that works best for me. And one of those ways is for me to pray the prayer of Muhammad SAWS. That prayer is the one that I’m working to establish 5 or more times a day. That prayer is the one that I like to breathe through and feel the benefits of each pose it contains. I especially like to pray when no one is around. When I’m not being rushed or dealing with the hustle and bustle of the day.
InshaAllah, I will continue to make strides in that area. InshaAllah, you will, too. May Allah make it so.