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your-mom-friend · 2 years

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Okay rant incoming

As much as I love Ramadan, and I do, this month is...exhausting for me.

For years I've been struggling with my identity as a Muslim but it was only recently that I came to the conclusion that I don't want to be Muslim at all. I'm not a muslim.

And there isn't anything wrong with Islam either. my reasons are part religious trauma and part i-simply-do-not-vibe-with-it. Some queer muslims reconcile their queerness with their faith, but I can't.

There is so much emphasis on prayer and reading the quran and making dua'a and it hurts and drains me to lie. to pretend that I believe in this god. to read the quran when it was such a huge part in my trauma. To lie to my parents and sisters so often.

And it is not as if I want to lie. I take no pleasure in this. More than admitting to my parents that I'm gay, I'm scared of admitting to them that I'm not Muslim. However little chance there is that they'd accept my sexuality, there's even less chance of them accepting that I'm not Muslim. They'd shun me or try to fix me but they wouldn't accept that and I'm terrified.

Lies about how I've prayed roll off my tongue as often as I can get away with it. It disgusts me even as I say it. Lying so easily to them, and about prayer, which is meant to be a huge sin unto itself. I don't like fake-praying, it feels even more disingenuous. So I lie, again and again.

It makes Ramadan tiring. When there's so much focus on reading Quran together, or praying in congregation, I hate myself so much because I know that everyone around me believes in what they're doing, the words they're saying and their action. They believe in it more than I do and I'm a liar and a sinner who does these thing without the slightext belief in them.

And i am so, so angry. Angry that there is almost no chance at a world where I can be completely myself, where I have no secrets with my family about who I am, without compromising my safety or happiness. Angry that if/when some people read this, I will get told that being ex-muslim is shameful or that I just need to get over these things or that I'm just not trying hard enough.

I'm angry at the injustice of Islam being considered a minority because of what it entails. No one can speak ill of Islam, even when there's legitimate criticisms to be voiced. If you clown Christianity* it's okay or something but heaven forbid that I make the same claims against Islam.

Here's a history lesson for you: According to the Quran; Islam, Christianity, and Judaism are cut of the same cloth. The Bible, the Pslams, and the Torah were said to be early versions of the Quran that were changed by people and then accepted as the holy books of their respective religions. Christianity's Jesus was Islam's Prophet Isa. Abraham was Ibrahim and Moses was Musa and Solomon was Sulaiman and so on and so forth

Hence it A) makes no sense to respect one over the other, B) makes no sense to allow and encourage the criticism of one over the other.

I hate that I can't just rant about the exhaustion that plagues me trying to keep my life open and secret at once and to keep it together without having to give disclaimers and context lest people decide that everything I'm saying is baseless and discriminatory.

I am angry that I can't feel safe and at home in my own house, that I can't tell the people I love what I'm dealing with because they either won't understand or are the ones I'm hiding from. I'm exhausted and terrified and there's nothing I can do about it.

* I mean this only in the sense that I can see multiple people complaining about Christianty and it's generally agreed with, not that there aren't people who don't face backlash for saying things.

#rem rambles #tw religious mention #it's all about religion thouhg #christianity #islam #judaisim #ramadan #ex muslim #tw religious trauma #i don't know if that tag is totally accurate to that but I'm putting it there #vent post

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primusdemoniccreatrix · 2 years

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Month of Angels (Gabriel May x Reader)

RAMADAN MUBARAK LOVELIES!!!!

Okay okay, so my Muslim self is fasting rn as it is Ramadan, and I felt like doing a nice little holiday series starting off with the man of the hour with electric power (who's been giving me severe brainrot for the past few weeks), some bonding with a Muslim reader!

If anyone has questions, feel free to ask!

Warnings: some cursing, mentions of menstruation, religious misconceptions and talk, mentions of death and kidnapping

Malignant: Gabriel May x Muslim! Reader

Footsteps. Shuffling down wooden stairs.

They stepped on a creaking floorboard and all doubts were out the window.

Someone was sneaking around inside the house.

Gabriel May had always been a light sleeper. Since his...child years, having to protect Emily from other nasty kids and generally being protective of himself from both the kids and adults that were supposed to care for him, he was always on guard, even in his dreams.

It wasn't Emily, as his sister was still attached to the same body he was, meaning it had to be someone else.

This wasn't the first time someone had tried to sneak around the house to full off a heist. He'd had to break a few bones last year of some stupidly cocky burglar, leaving him with the lesson to never try and rob the May house ever again.

So who was it this time? A friend of that bastard's?

Gabriel huffed as he slipped out of bed, the nightlight near Emily's bed turning brighter at the power surge it got from Gabriel's abilities; electrokinesis, he remembered someone fond to him tell him that.

He was groggy enough it took a moment to remember their name, but knowing that they could be in danger, he woke himself up in order to react to the potential threat as quickly as possible.

Easing himself off the bed, he walked on unnaturally silent steps, listening through the door and make sure they passed the first landing, as he wanted to use the element of surprise. Hearing the footsteps as far as he anticipated the landing itself to be, he turned the knob and opened the door.

Darkness peered from where the lower landing would be, only the cold dim light of the streetlight outside shining in on the hardwood floor shined to perfection.

Then yellowish light chased the darkness of the landing away and Gabriel was on the move.

Leaping into some siding on the wall he installed with Emily's permission so he could spider-jump using the walls and surprise his victims. Spread eagle along the walls, Gabriel used his feet to hold him up on the sidings as he began to walk downstairs along the walls, using his hands and feet to hold him up. Nearing the stairs, he carefully placed his feet on the bannisters and slid down the wood, expertly keeping his balance with the grace only an experienced master of kinesthetics could. Having slid down the bannister, he slid down the second railing before finding a corner that would hide him, right behind an ottoman that Emily used when she put on those ridiculous high heels on nights out with Sydney.

Skulking in the shadows, he peered around the ottoman to see if he could scope out what was happening and how to prevent it.

Gabriel's scheming came to dead halt when he observed what was actually going on.

The yellow light was coming from the fridge, and in front of it stood a person's shadow, far too soft to be some hardened or overeager criminal. Hunched back with sleep, hair messy from waking up, arms clumsily gathering food that was stored in tupperware. He'd seen them make it just last night.

Why were they eating it now? He'd heard of a midnight snack but this was too early, it was almost 4 in the morning-

They turned from the fridge, the door closing as they walked over to the stove, and turned on the light, their features glowing in the soft light.

Gabriel was so shocked he couldn't feel his heartrate slow down as he realized there was no threat.

What were you doing up at this hour?!

Gabriel huffed to himself before stepping out of the shadows just as you sat at a table, gathering a spoon to eat what was in the tupperware. He recognized the food as a Butter Chicken curry, something you once made for Emily after she left the hospital. The rice was fragrant, jasmine and lemon which you'd made just the other day, and there were some steamed coconut gravy veggies you made along with the rice. You sat down with a glass of orange juice, said something he couldn't understand and began digging into your food.

Okay, enough was enough. Gabriel had to know what was going on with you!

He stalked out from behind the ottoman and walked towards you, hoping you could hear him approaching (Emily did say his footsteps sounded like some monster pounding from downstairs) as he crossed his arms behind you, waiting for you to turn to him.

One...

Two...

"What are you doing up at this hour?"

You let out a small shriek of surprise, and Gabriel couldn't help but congratulate himself on being sneaky enough to frighten you. You had the cutest little squeak, didn't you?

Putting down your spoon, you turned to him. You eyes were slightly pink from the redness of a disturbed sleep, he noticed, and you smiled up at him tiredly, in a way that made him want to send you straight back to bed and make sure you slept well, but alas, not before he found out what you were doing eating at this hour.

"Sorry, Gabriel, it's just Suhoor time, so I have to eat now-"

..."What the fuck is Suhoor?"

You shook your head, messing your bedhair up even more. "It just means a pre-day meal before fasting" you explained, turning back around to enjoy your meal, from the pleased hum coming from your throat.

"Why are you fasting?" He knew what a fast was, to refuse food, but for what possible reason would you have to not eat? You better not be on some diet in the hopes of losing your mass for weight loss, cause he wasn't even sure that worked, and you're be risking your health.

You seemed to pause in thought before turning to him. The look in your eyes made him want to pretend he knew just so you'd stop looking at him like he was stupid as hell but he needed to know, and he was a grown man and would ask about anything he wanted to know.

"Gabriel, it's Ramadan". Another pause from him. "Do...you know what Ramadan is?"

"Not really". He didn't know at all.

Seeming to catch on or just avoiding his ignorance altogether (which he'd really appreciate if that was what you were doing), you explained to him in between bites of food what it was:

"Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar- where Muslims around the world fast for thirty days in order to purify their bodies and minds from worldly desire and also feel sympathy for the poor as they are bereft of food unwillingly. This month is basically about self-betterment, empathy, and reconnecting with God" you explained, locking up the tupperware as you were done with your meal. You put it back into the fridge, not willing to do the dishes when it was time to pray and then sleep. You did have work tomorrow.

Gabriel's voice sounded over the radio as his electric voice asked: "And what's Suhoor, then?"

"Oh, Suhoor is just the name for the pre-fasting meal. See, if you eat earlier in the day then your body can digest it overnight and give you energy throughout the day so you can function while you fast".

Interesting, he thought. "And if you get hungry, you bear it?"

"Yep, that's the point, after all".

"Even when you have health issues or are about to die or in danger without food?"

"No, no!" You seemed quick to react. "No, people with health conditions, or who need emergency food, or are menstruating can't fast. You can only fast if you are able-bodied, but if it will harm you to not eat then you shouldn't fast, you can just make it up some other time or they might not have to fast at all in some cases" you revealed.

"Why a cap on menstruating? Aren't you healthy?" He had heard some cultures in the global south were misogynistic and regarded women as dirty during natural bodily processes (though a lot of men and boys in the West were still like that, which should have resulted in their birth certificate being an apology for being unworthy of oxygen), and he really hoped this wasn't like that. No one deserved that.

You seemed almost unsurprised, and almost disappointed in him which he'd never forgive himself for if he made you feel that way but you answered him calmly, telling him: "It's because the body loses a lot of nutrients and can be in physical pain so the menstruating person needs rest and nutrients, which are often in food. If they are deprived, it can have ill consequences on the body and Allah doesn't want his believers to suffer too much in trying to earn his love". You closed the fridge door and grabbed the glass of juice you'd poured while talking to Gabriel, and downed the sweet liquid, following up with some water as you looked at the time.

You nodded to Gabriel as you turned and went to the nearby lower level bathroom, washing up.

You walked back upstairs, bidding him goodnight as you climbed up the steps with watery hands and feet and water dripping down your chin and shining on your head, as you closed yourself into your room.

Gabriel took a look around the now empty kitchen before walking back upstairs as well, his black slippers making no sound as he reached the second floor. His room was across from yours, and as he laid down in bed, he heard you shuffle around before your bedsprings alerted him you were sleeping once more. He took a while to sleep.

The next morning, you were gone at 9:30 A.M., and Emily waved you out the door as you left for work, the same job but with a promotion you'd had since you first moved into the May house, a few months after him kidnapping you and a year after you'd first arrived to town for educational placements where you'd met Emily.

With Emily working a small day job from home, she finished her piece for her new job and had a relaxing few hours before you came home. You'd come back just a little after sunset, at 6:45 P.M.

You entered the house to find Gabriel dominant at the moment, his gloved hands at his sides, hair cascading down his shoulder in a loose braid you'd seen Emily put it in just this morning. His leather coat with his dagger at the belt shined in the dying sunlight and the bright halogen lights overhead. He seemed to be waiting for you.

He must have noticed the question in your mind as he nodded his head towards the kitchen, walking before you so you could follow. Taking your shoes off and dropping your bag on the floor, you jogged up behind him and followed his lead before he stopped, stepping to the side to show you the view, a hand open to behold.

You gasped as soon as you saw it: the table was laden with multiple dishes, each of which were from traditionally Eastern cuisines, with samosas, some vegetable dishes, some noodles from Chinese takeout, some hummus and chips with some sauces in the middle of the spread. Dessert in the form of cheesecake sat off to the side.

The smells were mouthwatering.

"Gabriel...?" Your awed whisper grabbed his attention and he couldn't fight his giddiness at your silent praise.

"I did some research with some free time and found some traditional dishes for you to break your fast with this evening" his voice echoed around the house.

"You did this...for me?" you asked, and once more was he lost in the moment of your attention. This time however, he could only find it in himself to nod back.

You beamed a dazzling smile at him as you looked over the table, complimenting his work- "it smells so good, it's even better than any Muslim store I got food at before"- "This looks so good I can't wait to try it!"- before a sound interrupted the space.

It was loud, a male voice, that spoke in a language he didn't understand but seemed to sing in verse, and it stirred his attention. The only thing that broke the slight trance was hearing your stomach gurgle.

You bit your lip and smiled apologetically, clearly embarrassed at the sound before you approached him.

Gabriel was taken by surprise, his eyes widening as you took your hand in his, warming the skin through the leather with your own warm touch, and warmed his heart with your grateful eyes as you once more smiled at him like he just made your dreams come true.

"Thank you, so much, Gabriel. You have no idea what it means to me that you did this. Thank you" you squeezed his palm, and his fingers gave a gentle squeeze back, broadening your smile.

You suddenly turned and removed your hand from his own, and he was concerned for a moment he'd done something wrong when you pulled out a chair and nodded to it, your gaze fixed on him.

"Sit with me, and eat- if you can" you added, seeming to remember he couldn't digest as he didn't have those organs, but you invited him to sit with you. "I'd like to share my Iftar, my fast-breaking meal, with you" you added, and Gabriel's feet were already on the move, moving towards the table.

Standing next to you a moment, he grabbed a plate where he had already piled some food on, still warm and waiting for you.

He held it out to you, an offering.

"Ram-ad-aan Mu-bar-ak" his voice enunciated every syllable, attempting to get the Arabic pronunciation right, just for you. Blessed Ramadan.

Your hands wrapped around his own as you too grasped the plate, warmth seeping into the backs of his hands sheltered by your own as you greeted him in turn:

"Ramadan Mubarak, Gabriel".

He didn't know if you could tell, but had he the face he wished, you would see the fondness in his smile that he may or may not have hoped you'd see.

That night, two friends conversed into the nice evening, sharing a meal and company, for the first of many more days to come during the blessed month of Ramadan.

Bonus:

After Iftar, you were doing the dishes while Gabriel dried them with a towel. It would have been ludicrous to think that the man who was using his sister's body to commit serial murder just months ago and kidnapped you was now here, being domestic and helping out with chores. During the meal, you'd talked to him and explained more about the timing of the fast and other facets of Ramadan, and now the meal was finished, with leftovers for the next Suhoor. You were currently drinking a glass of some fizzy drink in a fancy wine glass, facing Gabriel as you both basked in one another's company after the chores and meal.

A thought entered your mind and Gabriel watched your eyes sparkle with mirth before he saw your gaze flick to him and then flick down to your glass, you chuckling as you downed the drink.

"What's got you laughing like that?"

You gave an acknowledging hum before putting down the empty glass, leaning back on the counter and he watched in a slight trance as your skin seemed to shimmer under the halogen light.

"I just thought of, how in Ramadan, it is said that Allah locks up the Devil himself in Hell so as not to cause havoc during this blessed month, and that would probably mean that angels don't have to compete much to keep a person guided. I thought of angels and I remembered that there is an angel called Jibreel, which in English is your name, Gabriel, arguably perhaps the most favoured and important of Allah's angels. I suppose its the month of angels, and I just realized someone with the name of an angel brought me food to break my fast, so thank you, angel" you teased, and Gabriel watched as you walked across the tiled floor and wrapped your arms around him. It took him by surprise but he hugged you back.

What shocked him to the core was your lips pressing gently upon a part of his face that was not bloodied or sensitive like raw musculature, pressing a kiss to where his cheek might have been.

You bit your lip at how frozen he looked, and with a nervous smile, you washed your glass and put it away, bidding Gabriel goodnight as you walked up for praying as you said you had to do after you broke your fast.

It took Gabriel several moments to tilt his head upward to the top of the stairs where he'd heard your footsteps go over and lead you out of his sight. His shared heart with his sister beat furiously as his mind kept replaying the sensation of being kissed on the cheek, a gesture of affection he'd never felt before but holy fuck did he like it.

Gabriel didn't believe in a god, not after all he'd been through in what he could consider a godforsaken childhood. But he knew that if there was such a thing as God, the existence of you was proof of him.

Note: Hey all, so to Non-Muslims reading this, there is more towards this month and Islam in general that I have not covered as this oneshot is specifically addressing only a few rudimentary facts of Ramadan and Islam and only some select facts to make the story work. For both Muslims and Non-Muslims, this is based on how I as a Muslim behaved, i.e. I am more open with affection and some religious beliefs but this is not the case for all Muslims, please do ask about people's preferences if you want to know but this is based on my Muslim identity, it does not mean every Muslim is this open.

Hope y'all enjoyed, thank you for reading!

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Would a jewish or muslim person pray if they were in a dire, hopeless situation and thinking they were going to die? If so, what would they say?

Jewish and Muslim characters - what would they pray in a dire situation?

Jewish answer

“Hear, Oh Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One / Blessed is God’s Glorious Name For Ever and Ever” (Shma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad / Baruch Shem, K’vod Malchuto, L’Olam Va’ed) -- this is the shema, there are plenty of times to say it and this is just one of them. My flippant way of describing it in my head is that if we’re mobile phones this is the way we ping the tower.

--Shira

Definitely agree it would be the Shema.

The only exception I can think of is if it's the time of day for ritualistic prayer (either shacharit, mincha or ma'ariv), they might prioritise that over reacting to the situation as an affirmation of their faith in face of death. There is no obligation to risk your/others' lives in order to pray at the correct time, in fact this would be against Torah, but if the situations seems hopeless anyway then I can think of some stories of people saying 'it's time for *insert daily prayer*' and proceeding to go through the relevant service with no obvious signs of fear.

Similarly, you might want to research how to make sure your character's attitude towards the situation is in line with their unique Jewish identity.

If they're very religious, for example, they may have an easier time accepting this fate than the average person. Jewish theology involves a belief that everything ultimately comes from G-d and is therefore good. We do have a strong emphasis on protecting life as one of our main obligations in this world, but there is also an acceptance towards death as something that G-d created and so is ultimately for the good - the first thing we say on hearing that someone has passed away is 'Baruch Dayurn Ha'Emet', 'Blessed is the True Judge.'

Unlike Christianity, we don't have a concept of the Devil as a being independent of G-d who is capable of introducing fundamentally bad things into the universe. This may or may not play out in your character's thought process and decisions in the situation you're describing, it depends on their relationship to Judaism and Jewish theology, so that's something I recommend including in your research.

--Shoshi

As you can see, Shoshi and I have varying levels of knowledge about how much prayer belongs when, and that's something to keep in mind -- if your character is Reform they might sound more like my answer and if they're Orthodox go with Shoshi's -- but that difference is only relevant at specific times of the day.

--Shira

Muslim answer - open to followers

The Muslim portion of this character is open to followers.

Muslim mods are not active at this time. We’ll be recruiting for more mods soon; Muslim writers, feel free to apply anytime!

https://forms.gle/qywJmrwcZj3E28nh8

#nukeli #death #death tw #Jewish #Judaism #Islam #Muslim #prayer #religion #Jewish prayer #Muslim prayer #asks

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newsfromstolenland · 3 years

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I don't get why some of yall think that your islamophobia is badass or progresssive or comedic of whatever.

It's oppression.

Muslims are not your gotcha to prove your points about religion or immigration or people of colour, we don't exist to be thrown under the bus, and accomodating us is not ultimately detrimental to you and your life.

Let us practice our beliefs in peace.

#mine #muslim #islam #personal #islamophobia #islamophobia tw

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mysharona1987 · 4 years

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Also, isn’t what Kanye is doing illegal?

Not sure, but I don’t think you can run as a 3rd party candidate if you openly admit you are only trying to screw over one of the other two candidates and there is no other reason for it.

Don’t you have to 1) think you have a chance or 2) be trying to make a political point?

#kanye west #muslims #blm #black lives matter #trump #donald trump #joe biden #poc #islam #america #democrats #mental illness tw #ohio #social media #forbes #politics

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beyond-crusading · 2 years

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I run in to a far-right guy with extremely strange opinions on the history of Islam

(cw: islamophobia)

I was doing political advocacy in the streets yesterday and this far right guy came to explain to me that I was complacent to Muslim terrorists (standard center-right to far-right talking point in Europe)

I tried to make him admit that not all Muslims believed exactly the same thing. In a desperate attempt at rationality, I asked if he knew there were Shia and Sunni Muslims, who don't believe the same things.

What a mistake.

This guy VERY SERIOUSLY told me that actually Shia Muslims were crypto-christians. That's why they don't like to commit violence (the Iranian Revolution didn't happen apparently?).

Then he told me that Christianity was very different from Islam because it's inherently pro-secularism and peaceful. I'm obviously the wrong person to tell that to because I wrote 500+ pages about the crusades. Told him about the crusades. He didn't answer.

And then. FINALLY. The icing on the cake.

He was 100% convinced that the Umayyads - the second dynasty of the Muslim Empire - were actually Christians.

Not crypto-Christians. Full on Christians.

At this point, I just completely abandonned any hope of reaching him, and politely said goodbye.

#history #medieval history #islam #islamophobia #cw islamophobie #tw islamophobia #far right #politics #french politics #france #conspiracy theory #conspiracy theories

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athenawasamerf · 4 years

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Feminism in Egypt, Part 2

FGM

FGM has a long, bloody history with African and Arab women. Some people say it originated in Ancient Egypt; others lean more towards it being a Bedouin Arab tradition. I’m not here to discuss the origin story of one of the most horrific human rights infarctions on earth. I’m here to talk about the current feminist struggle against it.

FGM was outlawed in Egypt in June of 2008, and a 2014 survey showed that a whopping 92% of married women and girls between 15 and 49 years old have been subjected to FGM (I will talk more about the inclusion of 15 year olds in official surveys of married women in a post about child brides), and that 72% of these crimes were carried out by doctors. In 2008, a DHS survey of women and girls in the same age range showed that 63% of them were in support of FGM as a practice. Of those 63%, 60% cited husband preference for ‘cleaned’ girls, and 39% cited religious reasons. All of these are easily googleable facts, but these things always sound so clinical when they’re presented like this. Cold, sterile, detached. So, let’s get a little deeper into it, shall we?

Girls in Egypt are mutilated anywhere between birth and marriage, but mostly before the age of 15. These are children. Every single year, we have cases of babies, toddlers, children, young women dying from botched mutilations and infections, especially after the 2016 criminalisation of FGM practitioners. Parents will take their daughters to backwater clinics, or have ‘doula’s who have no medical experience of any kind visit them at home, and cut into the flesh of their young daughters with non-sterile equipment, often without anaesthesia.

I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who got topical anaesthesia that wore out halfway through. I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who were dragged, kicking and screaming, and held down by family and neighbours forcefully as their bodies were torn into. Of girls who bled for days, of girls who had to have their legs bound to each other for weeks, of girls who couldn’t stop screaming in pain every time they went to the bathroom, to complete apathy and even disgust and anger from their families, of girls who were snarled at for making noise while their bodies were being torn away on their own beds, of girls who still have constant pain over a decade later, of girls who hate themselves and hate their vulvas, and hate their lives. Of girls who are suicidal, of girls who are terrified of marriage, who have trust issues, who can’t handle the thought of anyone touching them there again, after the first time being so traumatic and painful and horrifying. All of this is done while the family, and even friends and neighbours, celebrate in joy. It’s even tradition in some rural areas to take all the female children of the family to get ‘fixed’ together, dressed in pretty dresses and fancy shoes.

I’ve also heard of women who are asexual due to trauma, whose husbands rape them continuously, who are abused for refusing sex, whose families disown them for being such a disgrace, whose husbands divorce them and leave them for dead, whose husbands marry multiple women besides them, and they are left to fend for themselves, unable to get a divorce and move on, and completely abandoned by the people they trusted the most. They’re told the angels will curse them all night for refusing sex, but what about their trauma? What about their feelings? What about them, as people? Nobody cares.

So, how did we get here? There are 3 main reasons.

The ’’religious’’ folk will cite a (weak) hadith as their proof that FGM is a good, healthy practice. It goes that the prophet saw a woman going to get her daughter cut, and he told her to ‘not cut severely, as that is better for the woman and more preferable to the husband’. Apart from any implications of misogyny in this hadith, it has been disputed multiple times, along with a couple others in support of FGM. You can read more about that here.

Regardless of the truth of FGM having Islamic support, the reality of the matter is that a huge amount of actual, real life Muslim people cite these hadiths as their reasoning to mutilate their daughters, and everyone sees that as completely justified. The truth of the matter is this: Someone put these hadiths into the public conscience knowing full well they will be used to abuse, maim, hurt, kill women for centuries. Whether that someone was prophet Muhammed himself or later scholars, no one can actually ever know.

The second, more indirectly religious and directly misogynistic reason, is to ensure ‘purity’. You see, as I’ve talked about before and as many of you already know, women in Islam and in MENA in general are seen and treated as property. The family’s honour lies between a woman’s thighs. A young girl who speaks to boys her age in the most innocent context possible can be subjected to house arrest, beatings, forced stopping of her education, even death, for daring to put the family’s honour in jeopardy. A girl who has a boyfriend, well...

In a society that places so much value not only on women’s virginity, but also on their complete removal and separation from the male sex at any cost, it’s not very surprising that tips and tricks like using FGM to ‘cull a woman’s sexual desire’ spread like wildfire. Girls are mutilated to make sure they don’t become wh**es. This is said frankly, openly, it’s common knowledge. If you refuse to hurt your child in this way, you will be met with disdain and disgust, and even wails of despair, with shock, with animosity. “Do you want her to become like a prostitute and ruin your family name? Do you want her to walk around uncontrolled? Don’t you know what shame she will bring on you?” These statements are directed at girls as young as... in the womb, if you show your dissent early enough.

And the final reason is the least of them to hide under religious pretences, and the most misogynistic: Because this is how men prefer their wives to be.

You might think when I say preference here, I mean it in the way I mean, “Oh, I personally prefer brunette hair,” but you would be sorely mistaken. By prefer here, I mean demand. I mean a man could force his grown wife, through physical force or through abuse, to mutilate her body for his satisfaction. I mean that men will sneer at un-mutilated women. I mean that men will beat their wives on their wedding night to within an inch of her life for ‘cheating’ them if the wives are not mutilated. I mean men will suspect their wives of adultery and murder them, which carries a reduced sentence of ‘time served during investigation’, just for the simple act of having intact genitals. I mean men will divorce their wives on their wedding night for being unharmed, for being whole. I mean men will act so entitled to women’s bodies that they will always have the assumption that the ‘product’ they are ‘buying’ is cut to taste, and they will become violent and aggressive and murderous if they find out this is not the case.

I personally don’t know whether or not I’ve been mutilated. With such high numbers in Egypt, the likely answer is yes, but I genuinely have no clue. I am not allowed to ask about these things, or I’ll be seen as a loose wh**re. My parents would beat me up and they still wouldn’t allow me the dignity of knowing whether my own body has been altered against my will. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out.

The feminists fighting constantly for tighter regulations, for harsher punishments, for longer sentences; these women are seen as the spawn of the devil. Accusations of loose morals are thrown their way day in and day out. Death threats and rape threats (’that’s what you want anyway isn’t it?’) are hurled at them from every direction. They are silenced. They are ridiculed. But they are prevailing. This year, the Egyptian president has decided to alter the FGM laws to cover loopholes, and possibly to increase enforcement. He has also altered the charge set to doctors who perform FGM which results in death from manslaughter to first or second degree murder.

The problem, however, remains in lack of reporting. Ever since the criminalisation of performing FGM in 2008, and the setting of punishments in 2016 as a minimum of three months’ jail time, to a maximum of 2 years, or a minimum of 1000EGP to a maximum of 5000EGP fines (63.71 to 318.53 USD), and until 2018, and possibly until today, not a single mutilator had been convicted.

Imagine being fined as little as 60 dollars for the permanent mutilation of a little girl’s body. And even that is not happening.

People refuse to report the monsters who do perform this, despite a 2012 gynaecology convention condemning the practice, and calling it an inhumane act, and stating quite forcefully that it is not a medical procedure, and that it is an infringement on the human rights of women and girls, which medicine and medical ethics do not condone. And yet, the public opinion remains the same: this is their business, it is not our place to intervene. It is not our place to get this fine young man thrown in jail, or fined, for performing a ‘cleaning’ procedure, and besides, wouldn’t you rather they had a medical professional perform it, rather than an uneducated woman, or a barber, or a butcher? It is not our place to report this family and tear them apart - what did they ever do to us that we may hurt them like this?

No one ever asks what little girls have ever done for us to fail them like this.

#egyptian feminism #radical feminism #RadFem #fgm #female genital mutilation #tw: violence #tw: rape #tw: abuse #tw: mentions of death #tw: misogynistic slurs #tw: fgm #feminism #anti-fgm #islam critical

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