Mint tea à Clichy

It was on a Friday afternoon of a warm and sunny Parisian autumn. I was sitting at the terrace of a Moroccan restaurant in a busy street of Clichy sipping some mint tea while listening to an interviewee. I was the interviewer but the young man had so much to share about his experience of France as a Moroccan Muslim that I barely needed to interact.

I was tired, exhausted even. I was just finishing one of the busiest and most interesting weeks in a long while. Running across the city, interviewing brothers and sisters and (re)discovering Paris in a way that I was enjoying. In just a week the buzz of the city was now starting to make sense, a sense filled with a human dimension that I would not have suspected. After months of reading books I was finally doing fieldwork, I was into the realities of human lives. And, in the reality of France's capital city that despite my numerous visits had never showed herself in such an intimate way.

While the brother was sharing, I was enjoying the passers-by, men, women, families, a pure reflection of the real and vibrant diversity of the street. It was a popular neighbourhood, many men were having coffees and loud conversations all around, and street noises were often really loud too. Yet, the young brother facing me was undaunted by his surroundings.

In the middle of the crowd and buzz, there, I saw this young girl of probably 8 years old, riding a scooter at the speed of light; slicing through the air. She was wearing the Muslim headscarf that we all know so well. She appeared to me as defiant, free and strong. The scene put a wide, amused smile on my face.

I did not know anything about her, but she touched me. Her cheekiness was written all over her. The movement and momentum she produced were unmatchable.

Few minutes after, I saw her coming again from the opposite side. I barely had the time to notice the bag full of baguettes hanging from the handlebar. I smiled again and pondered… That was it! The next generation was in motion, impersonating the diversity, the multicultural nation I would love to see grow everywhere in France. The fast girl pushing her way through the male dominated crowd, the bread, the scooter, the headscarf all wrapped together to testify of the force and magic of an assumed plural identity.

I wished I had taped that on film, I wish I could looked at the beauty of the action in slow motion, then normal speed again, then slow motion again.

Unleashing misogyny and hypocrisy - What’s up with France?

“Don’t be surprised if you get rape when you dress like that”. This is what an unknown male MP from Sarkozy’s party UMP allegedly declared late May 2011.

Since the Dominique Strauss-Khan scandalous sex assault affair broke out last month – followed by other similar accusations of sexual harassment made against other male politicians –  there is been a lot of agitation in the French National Assembly (Parliament), especially when some female MPs started to openly speak about the chauvinism and misogyny of their male counterparts, and on the job more generally.

On Tuesday the 7^th, two female MPs also organised a “Journée de la jupe” (Day of the skirt) at the National Assembly to protest against the unashamed sexism going on in the work place. Male MPs keep minimising such accusations, declaring them untrue or exaggerated. And, as the comment of this unknown MP shows, some even shockingly joked about it - if such filth can be called a joke.

But seriously, what is this? How can an MP dare make such comment?

What I keep being surprised about is how the French society and culture can so easily let such event take place and such declaration be made? Aren’t the politicians supposed to set a good example? Aren’t they supposed to defend the rights of their citizens whatever their sex and gender?

For the past years, and past months especially, these same politicians have been on the backs of the veiled French Muslim women, passed laws preventing them from freely wearing garments that many of them consider a protection from the male gaze. Yet, they are now acting with the same male chauvinism they condemned when supposedly coming from French Muslim men. Explain the hypocrisy here, aren’t sexist comments and behaviours a violation of a woman’s rights to feel safe, secured and dignified in her workplace? If so, I believe that would be oppression.

These male MPs do not like when women dressed in the feminine fashion of the French cultural norm, yet, when women, like some French Muslims, choose to cover up, they also criticise them, calling them subservient to male and oppressed. Do you see the resemblance? Do you notice the contradictions between political idealistic discourses and social realities?

President Sarkozy told the French National Assembly:

“We cannot accept to have in our country women who are prisoners behind netting, cut off from all social life, deprived of identity. That is not the idea that the French republic has of women’s dignity. The issue of the burqa is not a religious issue. It is a question of freedom and of women’s dignity.” He continues declaring that, “the burqa is not a religious sign. It is a sign of the subjugation, of the submission, of women.”

So, women freedom and women dignity… Please Mister President, tell me, do your male MPs respect the freedom and dignity of their female colleagues? Tell me also why, if the burqa isn’t a religious sign as you declared, do you refuse it in the French public and secular space?

Why can’t the French politics and laws respect the dignity and freedom of all women, regardless the way they dress? Why, us, the once so revolutionary, liberal, cannot set an example for the rest of the world in term of respect towards women, respect of their basic rights, freedom and dignity?

Gosh! We are so far from what should be a society where one’s freedom stops where the other’s begins, where all, regardless of the citizenship, the colour of the skin, the sex, the gender, the beliefs, share the same rights to dignity, to equality and respect. 






Qur'an [3:14] "Adorned for the people are the worldly pleasures, such as the women, having children, piles upon piles of gold and silver, trained horses, livestock, and crops. These are the materials of this world. A far better abode is reserved at God."

On French Ban Against Face Covering

12 April 2011

Law as it is (French): http://www.senat.fr/petite-loi-ameli/2009-2010/700.html


Let me start by saying that this law does NOT use words such as Muslim (Musulman), Veil (Voile), or Women (Femmes). It is therefore wrong to call it the 'burqa' law as I have read in many articles or debates on it. 


For that reason, I think way too much attention is given to this newly enforced law.
Thus, I believe that the two of my French Muslim niqabi sisters, and some more of my fellow French citizens, who went to illegally and illicitly demonstrate yesterday just did what Sarkozy was dying for:   

1. bring international attention to him, his ugly and narrow-minded thinking of the French diversity
2. further stigmatise and fuel the fear of the 'Other'.

Therefore, to me, these protesters made a serious mistake. Especially since the French political and social debate is already taking care of emphasising all the problems surrounding this law, namely: stigmatisation, unrest and extreme difficulty of its enforcement.

From what I understand of the French text and debate, this law has been passed on to control and prevent anyone to cover their faces with masks, veils, etc. This law was not just directed towards fully veiled Muslim women. Indeed, this law is also designed to tackle the increasing number of youth who demonstrated in the recent years covering their faces to vandalise everything around them - but this is genuinely overlooked by critics.


In my opinion, this law can be considered as making a step towards more freedom of will. As it guarantees any French citizens the right to take legal action against family members forcing them to wear a garment they would rather not wear. And, in my opinion, is a very good thing, because unfortunately, as we all know, many sisters do not cover out of self-expression of faith and/or free will. (Correct me if I am wrong.)


Now Muslims around the world who attack the French decision to enforce this law should think about it, should read further about French history, French 'laïcité' which they wrongly define as and/or amalgamate with American or British secularism. France is unique in its 'secular', or I should say 'laïque', ideals and this should not be overlooked either.


As a French Muslim woman and academic, I believe the French 'laïcité' and all the values of the Republic are utterly compatible with Islam, at least my understanding of it. (I hope I will be able to write about this very topic in a near future.)

Why no Muslim takes such a strong stand against the Saudi government? They force women to fully cover, don't they? So I am asking my fellow faithful Muslims to tell me whether this is Islamic, whether this should be protested against too by all of us around the world?


This French law just seeks to allow Muslim women not to completely disappear under their garments. And, most certainly, to ponder about the impact of their decision to fully cover in the French society, the impact they make upon their fellow French citizens, and the message they pass on about their faith to a society that is alien to and often misunderstands, and fears, such traditional and conservative practices. 

Tareq Oubrou, imam of Bordeaux's mosque, where I am from, said during a conference on January 2011 that the law is the law and as Muslims and French citizens we should respect the law of our country. I agree 100%, and of course I don't always respect it myself: speeding or parking anywhere I wish regardless of the law, are the most common disrespects of the law I commit... but, if they catch me: I pay. You fraud, you take responsibility of your actions. Simple.

Now, if some French citizens want to challenge the law, there are many ways they can actively do so because they are lucky enough to live in a democratic system in which individuals can raise discontents and take legal, social, and political actions against what they believe is unfair. And doing so in a lawful manner is essential.


I would like to finish saying that Muslims in France are not oppressed as many Muslims across the world argue. When I am in my country I am told, and can see very clearly, that French Muslims love France and are happy there. Even those who are from different ethnic origins. Indeed, they would rather stay live in France then go back to their, or grandparents or parents, home countries. Why confront one another on petty differences such as the way we dress? If you are a French Muslim woman and want to fully cover for the sake of Allah swt then feel free do so,... but in my opinion you shouldn't complain or accuse your government of 'Islamophobia' or 'racism' if you get caught. Take full responsibility of your actions.


French government is far from being 'purely evil', or for that matters, the 'very best' with its communities, but which country is? France deals with it in a certain way, a way that most French people see fits. France has ideals that I personally have been enjoying since my birth and find very much compatible with my Muslim faith. However, some people in the French government should definitely take another long look at the values of the Republic written in the constitution (especially Art.1, see endnotes below), they may find that they are often forgetful of and not doing justice to these beautiful values.




Endnotes:

Article 1.

France shall be an indivisible, secular, democratic and social Republic. It shall ensure the equality of all citizens before the law, without distinction of origin, race or religion. It shall respect all beliefs. It shall be organised on a decentralised basis.

Statutes shall promote equal access by women and men to elective offices and posts as well as to position of professional and social responsibility.

Source English: http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/english/8ab.asp
Source French: http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/connaissance/constitution.asp

"My Journey To The USA"

I went to the optician the other day, because my mum had new glasses done for her, and I went along with her to get them. I like the optician guy, Pierre. I've known him since I’m 3 or 4 years old and he has seen me grow up. Anyway, I think the feeling is mutual and I always enjoy a chat with him.

We waited for about an hour, while he was making her glasses, chatting and remembering. He told me he called his wife “my journey to the USA”. I found it intriguing and asked him why. He then started to tell me the story on how he met his wife. While he started to tell me the story I was already imagining he met his wife in the USA, which would have been quite a story for a couple of French persons who are now in their early sixties with five children now all grown-ups. 

To my surprised he said he was doing seasonal work on the Bassin d’Arcachon (on the Atlantic costs, south-west of France, at 30 miles from Bordeaux) over the summer, just before the start of  university. He had planned to work during July and August and go off to the USA for September before starting university the following month.

But he told me he never flew to the USA, because while he was working he met a pretty girl working in a beauty salon and so he ended up spending all the money he had earned and saved up to seduce her  and later on... marry her. And so she became his journey to the USA. I think it was a lovely story, especially since their couple is still strong today, and since they had five kids together and lived many more memorable and fantastic adventures together.

Hearing such stories is quite comforting, especially when you are loosing faith in love and what comes with it. I cannot deny that ending up a spinster was never my aim in life… But, I did so much for love, and got so little back, that I am now genuinely disenchanted.

Is love that random?

OK… I must admit: part of me still wants to believe that it could happen…

Few months back, I had difficulties living with myself and accepting what was happening to me… Surprisingly another person, even more random this time, give me the cutest, most beautiful testimony about hope, endurance and love.

I arrived at the doctor’s appointment and sat in the waiting room. There already was a nice lady waiting, she looked very elegant and charming, she was blond and probably close to her 70’s. She was crippled and so her husband had accompanied her. However, he had left her on her own because they had guests waiting at home. She went inside the doctor's office, and came back to wait for the anaesthetic effects of the eye drops to kick in. She sat in front of me and started talking to me and another women sitting there too. Once that woman’s turn arrived, I found myself alone with the charming and talkative lady. She told me about her declining health, laughing at herself and life. She told me about my home town, Mérignac, where she lived from a very young age, but also about Bordeaux. I asked her to tell me about life here in the 1950’s and 1960's, when she was a kid and growing up as a young lady. I was nice to listen to her.

My turn came up, but just like her, I was sent back to the waiting room to wait for the anaesthetic to be fully operational. She was still there, waiting for her husband whom she started to describe as the most formidable man. She told me she had been married before when she was 25. But her first husband was a “nasty man, violent and difficult to handle” (these words are hers). She continued saying that 25 years old is young and that at this age it can still be difficult to make the right choices. She told me that after a few years she divorced, a very difficult time in her life despite the ‘ugliness’ of the man she had married. With a big smile she carried on explaining that she remarried when she was 36 and ONLY THEN she had "the time of her life".

Her husband arrived to pick her up; she welcomed him cheerfully, telling the audience in the waiting room that her “lover” had arrived. Although I found out she never had children and regretted it, and that she had also lost her younger sister who died at the age of 12, in 1959, after she had surgery, and then again, in 1960, her older brother, in Algeria, at the age of 22, I could not help but envy her slightly… and at the same time be grateful for what I had, and still have.

Despite all the bad in her life (past and present), she cheered me up in a magic way. She was the sweetest thing, and she had filled my heart with joy, beauty and hope. I often think about her since, say a prayer and start smiling.

I know I said that I heard these stories from random persons, at random moments. But considering what I was going through: is there such thing as randomness when you are just told what you needed to hear?

My Winter Solstice

Interestingly, tonight, the last December night of full moon 2010, marks a key moment for many humans. Tonight the full moon meets the Winter solstice... I mean that, tonight, at a precise, unique and brief moment in time (23h38 UTC to be exact!), while the full moon is smiling at me, the Earth's axial tilt will be the farthest away from the Sun for split seconds before it shifts back and sets off the reversal of the gradual lengthening of nights and shortening of days. How beautiful is that? SubhanAllah.

Winter solstice has always been a key moment and it will always be. Indeed, this darkest, coldest time of the year is at once the most dreaded and most hopeful of times. It is the period when, throughout human history, people have feared the possibility that days might continue to get shorter, and nights longer, with the inevitable demise of life. Indeed, light and life go together, as do darkness and death. Winter solstice is a celebration of light and life, and I like this idea. I am not a pagan, a Zuni Indian, a Pakistani Kalash, or an Iranian Zoroastrian, but I do love light and warmth and I do wait 6 months a year for the moment the days will start to lengthen again.

In my life, today is a key moment too. I have never felt so determine to see the light and shine come back. I have been inspired by friends, here in France, but also from all over the world, via the magic tool of Internet. UK, Spain, Turkey, Canada, USA, Colombia, Brunei, and more... Most of them female, most of them with the purest hearts and intentions. Weeks after weeks, they were by my side, without asking why I had huddled-up in my corner. 

Dropping a text, a line in an email, chatting with me about the latest news in their lives; they came to me with their love, compassion and care, even if some hadn't seen me in months or years. They just spoke to me, shared their stories, sent me poems, songs or lectures, and, most importantly, they kept me in their thoughts, in their prayers, so close to their hearts.

I said most of them were female, each of them with her own personality, culture, belief... Yet, all present and attentive, they surrounded me and made me feel OK. So to this I say: May God, the All-knowing, bless and strengthen female solidarity always. Ameen. 

I am deeply thankful and grateful that day after day... they helped me, often unintentionally, to get to MY Winter solstice. 

Today I found myself the farthest away from my past. Today I am ready to confront whatever is to come. 

Don't let yourself melt away woman!

(Cause you ain't snow!)

I was preposterous and arrogant before when telling depressed people that low-spirit and depression were not real diseases. And that it would certainly not affect me because I always forced myself to see and focus on what is good.I was younger too though - also I admit it is not an excuse. If you ever recognise yourself... I apologise for having had the nerves to say it to you.

Even if I am still unsure whether or not I have experienced depression, I can however confirm I had very low-spirited days. To my understanding of the phenomenon, our past, our thoughts, and the way we deal with them, are most often what makes us go down the wrong roads.

But I know how not to let them control me. However, what I find harder to control are feelings and emotions related to love. By this I mean the feelings that you may experience because of a person you love, because of how he or she may be with you and how you find your place in this supposedly secure relationship.

My place was optional. Yes, I was an option, may sound weird to you, but it actually is the place that most women will only ever get. Don't worry, for so long I was blind, I thought it was a real commitment, and it became clear to me only very recently it really wasn't.

Interestingly, I believe that the one to blame is me and me only. I choose to associate with certain people.... and so I must deal with the consequences. But I can't say that I am cool with what men do these days. I heard so much unbelievable stories about couples, all showing a snarer side of men, manipulating women and sucking the life out of them, without expressing gratitude, affection or compassion to the women standing by their side like proper soldiers of love.

Yes soldiers of love, women are truly amazing. I find beautiful how much love, patience and bravery women have in them. They do have an incredibly steady potential for love, forgiveness and compassion, but where is the balance in this world? How do we learn to control our potential as female so we don't let our emotions take us downhill?

May be we just don't.

May be it is time for men to self-introspect and change.

Swansea: the impossible rebound

First I had lost track of time. What’s the time? In reality? Or in my body? I was in distress and it took me a good five days to join the local pattern again...

But once I was biologically synchronised, I soon realised that the change of scenery, the return from warm, shinny, exotic and intriguing Japan is harder than I expected. Despite a shy Welsh sunshine, it seems almost impossible to overcome the gloom of Swansea.

As I am walking down the street of this city, a strong sense of sickness is taken over my whole body. I cannot be there anymore. It is an oppressing feeling. I am disgusted by the smells, by the buildings, by the people. Nothing in this place makes me want to smile. Even the sea, the bay and the view over the Mumbles that for so long used to feel me with joy and stretch my mouth to a big smile, seem now to have lost their powers.

What happened? When did I start seeing things so differently? Well I don’t want to put any new comers off, because Swansea can still be a nice place to be if you like to drink and party and sleep all day to wake up in the evening and never see the colours of the city. When it comes to make a life... Swansea itself has rather little to offer.

I can’t help but close my eyes thinking of Japan and remember the warm and steamy smell in the air, remember the feeling of my perspiration running down my back... these big and warm drops. I loved their rayless sun and the constant mist in the skies because of the continuous steam evaporating from the seas around the island.

I have been in Swansea too long... I come from the sun and the warmth... I come from a place where the asphalt liquefies under the heat, where the grass transforms into hay in the count of a few weeks over the summers, where I can’t sleep at night because the city never cools down.

But is Japan really the reason why I feel so uncomfortable back here? Is the shock between this two completely opposite place the reason of my anxiety and restlessness?

No, it is because the dearest person to my heart has left Swansea... so, all of a sudden I wake up to the actual reality; I see with the eyes of the common people, I see Swansea for what it is.

I need to leave, escape this place.