The Council of Strangers

The new convert to Islam has a lot of things to get used to. One of the most surprising is the council of strangers.

I find the concept of naseeha mysterious even now. The duty to advise one’s brothers and sisters regarding etiquette is not unique to the religion; the jarring piece is freedom with which people will do this.

Sometimes it is the point of a finger. A girl with uncovered hair walks through something that is perceived as “Muslim space” and a man across the room frowns, points at her, and then to his head. The message: Cover that. Sometimes a two-way conversation suddenly morphs into paternalistic sermonizing on the great traditions of Islam. “In Islam, you know, we know that God is greatest…” And sometimes it is meant well; the smallest of comments about your shoes, your dress, your presence, though coming from a place of sincere care, cuts deep. Makes you feel inadequate, unwelcome, embarrassed, angry – sometimes all at once.

 

  

I know that was meant well...but man I hope I never see that guy again!

 

I suppose that what I have always found mysterious is the lack of boundary when it comes to this. So many Muslims feel out of place, are searching for belonging – and yet we can’t resist the urge to nitpick each other’s behavior at every turn, creating the most alienating of environments out of what we are told on the mimbar is the most welcoming, egalitarian of communities. It is as though we are incapable of any other basis for interaction other than critique; there seems to be a lack of consideration as to whether or not the advice that slips so generously from our lips might be heard in the way it was intended. We think it is our duty to speak up; somehow we think it is not our duty to take care of each other first and foremost. 

 

Now I’m telling you this out of sisterly love! Appreciate my tyranny!

 

I have never gotten used to having to be prepared to be criticized about any aspect of my behavior or appearance by anyone at any time – but on occasion this is what it means to belong to this community. Is it a good thing? I wonder how many well-intentioned comments fall on deaf ears, ears reddened with anger or shame. I wonder how many people hopefully walk into a mosque, or an event, hoping to be met with open arms and instead confronting the disapproving glances of strangers or a series of suggestions on who else to be. Who has come to us on the promise of love and egalitarianism and been disappointed by our closed ranks, by our assumption that we know better, all the time? Who has been so shocked and embarrassed by being told where to pray, how to dress, how to wash, where to enter, that they’ve never come back?

A wise man once told me that the conditions for giving advice include that the giver thinks the listening party will be able to use the offered wisdom. So within the idea of giving advice there is the notion that advice is personal, and that is as it should be. Not every comment is appropriate for every audience at every time; ideally, we should be meeting people where they are at.

No one would think that it would be appropriate to point at an uncovered woman in distaste, and go merrily on your way, if you knew that woman had come to the mosque/musalla/event for the first time, timidly, not knowing what was right, with the intention to learn about Islam. She would be led to the most knowledgeable person in the room, catered to, served tea while she told surrounding Muslims her story, and asked her questions. This tricky thing we call our deen would not be shoved down her throat in one fell swoop; she would learn a little day by day in a supportive and welcoming environment. She would be loved; her progress would be praised, every step she took on her spiritual journey would be celebrated and held up as evidence of Islam’s success.

The problem is that every girl is that girl.

 

If only we knew.

 

 

May God guide us towards being better with each other; may He give us the strength to not take insult personally, and remain in the spaces we love and need despite callous and embarrassing treatment, ameen.