|
The
following article by John Scully was first published in NOW magazine
on june 26, 03. The article is copyrighted.
For permission to reprint or republish, please contact NOW magazine
Directly
-----------------------------------------------------
two
more days until the first sa- laam Canada and fourth Al-Fatiha
International Conference for gay and lesbian Muslims and I can't
even find out where it is. You'd think they'd put the bloody address
of the bloody conference on the Web site. An exasperated e-mail to
Salaam Toronto founder and lawyer El-Farouk Khaki finally generated
this equable response. "We didn't list the address for security
reasons. It's at the 519 Church Street Community Centre."
Security. Of course. Could any group
be more of a target from more sources than a progressive gay Muslim
group? If anybody needs serious spiritual healing and hope, it's
Muslims struggling with sexual identity. Many young gays are killing
themselves, ostracized by their families and cut off from their God.
Forget that a UN resolution against sexual discrimination was turned
down by five Muslim countries. Forget that Egypt jailed several men on
charges of "lewd" behaviour. The intolerance is just as harsh in North
America.
"You cannot be a good Muslim and be
homosexual" pronounced a Toronto Muslim leader recently. Al-Fatiha has
already earned a fatwa (a religious ruling) against them. "We are
really quite proud of it," says the American founder, Faisal Alam.
So on a beautiful Friday morning
(prayer day) in a bright cheery upstairs room at the 519, about a
hundred brave delegates gather. Registration is by first name only,
guards stand outside the door and participants are assured that their
faces will not be photographed. In spite of all this, the atmosphere
is peaceful and calm.
As a straight feminist Canadian of
Christian Palestinian background, I admit to a certain trepidation at
immersing myself in any Muslim environment. I always get into a fight.
I have often not only butted heads with Muslim men and women on the
topic of women's rights, but with my Christian Arab relatives as well.
These attitudes are culturally identical even if their doctrines
differ.
I am especially curious about how bi
and lesbian Muslim women reconcile themselves to the many verses in
the Koran restricting women – the sanction of polygamy, purdah and
wife-beating, to name a few, although clearly the Bible is no bed of
roses for the ladies either. Only one passage in the Koran, the story
of Lut in Sodom and Gomorrah, makes passing negative reference to
homosexual men, and it looks like it won't be too difficult for gay
Muslim scholars to re-interpret or circumvent its implications. In
fact, scholar Suraj Kugle gives a talk on that very topic on Saturday
.
Still, the cultural stigma against
homosexuality will remain. If Muslims are making such excruciatingly
slow progress toward simply freeing themselves from prejudice against
women, how are they going to help their gay, lesbian, bi and
transgender communities? With two of the basic tenets of Islam –
tolerance and compassion – that's how, and these are beautifully
prevalent in almost every aspect of this conference.
A cool breeze tickles the large
Palestinian flag hanging in a window, and my fears are allayed. There
are lots of frizzy brown heads like my own, and the men seem accepting
and inclusive of the women. People murmur in soft tones as they gather
their coffee donated by a local Timothy's. Black markers squeak on
bristol board outlining that morning's topics. An Introduction To The
Contemporary Queer Muslim Movement, Thematic And Contextual Readings
Of The Story Of Lut....
The diverse audience exchange shy
smiles. Besides the smattering of young gay Muslims of both genders,
there's a 50-year-old American lesbian who embraced Islam after 9/11,
a huge African-American man in white skullcap and robe, South Asian
dykes gleaming in their saris, and non-Muslim gay supporters of the
event. No one is in a hijab.
Raven Rowanchilde, a bisexual Muslim
woman and one of the organizers, welcomes the delegates with a copy of
Xtra in her hand. She's on the cover, together with Khaki and fellow
member Negar Farjadnia, and she's showing cleavage. "This photo has
sparked both fan clubs and hate groups devoted to my cleavage," she
chuckles, then sobers. "Women's bodies have been the battleground for
political, economic, religious and ideological control. It's a tired
old script. Let's throw it out!" Applause.
Khaki then firmly announces that a
woman, Dr. Ghazala Anwar, will lead the prayer. Anwar, of the
University of Canterbury, is one of the first academics to support
Salaam. She's a small, pious woman with a muted voice. Her seminar is
the only one addressing feminism and is a bit of a letdown.
The topic is Progressive Islam: The
Queer Imperative For A Feminist Agenda. But she clarifies her
position. "I do not have the identity of being feminist," says Anwar,
referring to what she sees as the problem of unbecoming, unfeminine
anger. "The more angry they are," she says of feminists, "the more
they mirror the society they are trying to escape." The message seems
to be "Be free but don't be unladylike about it."
After the seminars everyone is gently
invited to pray. "Some if them hadn't prayed in 10, 20 years," says
Khaki the next day. "Quite a few people had tears in their eyes
because it was so healing and cathartic."
If Friday and Saturday are days for
absorbing history and analysis, Saturday night is the time to party.
The banquet held at the Bright Pearl restaurant opens with about 15
heart-stopping drummers and a belly dancer. Again the crowd is
staggering in its diversity: trannies in their finest; newly married
gay couples; and next to Olivia Chow's table, the most touching sight,
two tables of bemused older couples from PFLAG (Parents, Families and
Friends of Lesbians and Gays). Keynote speaker MP Svend Robinson tells
the gathering, "We are witnessing history and making history."
By Sunday, when seminars are held at
the Winchester Hotel, the love-fest vibe has shifted a little. Time is
running out and not everyone has had a say. One young woman, the kind
who talks in questions? To soften the sting of her words? Feels that
issues of appropriation should be on everyone's mind in every caucus?
Many of the delegates are Muslim neither culturally nor originally.
There is some bristling from the crowd. I think if I were an East
Asian Muslim girl who had grown up despised for my identity, I would
not have the same issues as a white woman who converted at 40.
Later, I talk to Khaki outside in the
shade of a tree that drops tiny green specks on us. On his way to meet
me, he speaks quickly to several people, calmly fixing small problems
and unruffling feathers. "When you look at Islamic history," he tells
me. "there was always diversity. I think the larger Muslim community
needs to understand we're not a threat to them."
NOW | JUN
26 - JUL 2, 2003 | VOL. 22 NO. 43
|
