Best read in coordination with: “So, where are you from?” and “Law School Society and the “I’m Muslim” dilemma”
(Glossary at the end for those unfamiliar with the Arabic words).

As a law student-going-on-lawyer, I’ve realized that so much of being a perceived as a good attorney rides on your appearance. Well-tailored suits are an absolute must for both men and women. A lawyer does not look like a lawyer unless he or she is, as we say in Pakistan, “suited booted.” Business casual is rare, especially in government jobs, and even then is expected to be respectable enough to receive a client or colleague.

In some way, I win here. I recently read an article about male judges’ reflections on what female lawyers wear in the court room, and the “old boys” (and “old girls”) lawyers I’ve met through the Susie Sharp Inn of Court seem to echo the same sentiment – “You’re in court, not at a party. I don’t need to see that much leg or that much cleavage.”

Sweet – no problem on either front for me. Indeed, I agree with the sentiment itself, too. Showing that much skin is not only disrespectful to the court and the institution of the law, but also to yourself. It gets you stared at for the wrong reasons (yes, it does, even if you don’t ask for it, it does. Eyes wander, that’s what they’re meant to do – look) and diminishes you in the credibility and respect you deserve. Fine, Lady Lawyers, I’ll give you an okay on below the knee skirts and short sleeve shirts (maybe even sleeveless if it’s tactful), but no cleavage, please. Not acceptable.

But in other ways, I lose. Buying my definition of halal suits is not an easy task. Choices are limited to (at most) mid-calf skirts (more usually knee length or shorter). Jackets come up to right at or above the waist, and combined with a fitted pant or skirt, the butt is completely bare and distinguishable. Not okay for me. Blouses and shirts are either spandexy (too tight) or low cut or too short (again, see the butt problem). You can get suit jackets that are longer (mid thigh or knee), but they’re expensive and hard to come by (and often cut for an older fashion sense).

Alhamdulillah, I’m lucky that when I find one of these longer, well cut suits, my mom or dad will get me multiples stitched in different colors from Pakistan. That helps very immensely, so I’ve got a whole set of well cut, well covered suits. I shake it up with a pretty colored shirt and hijab (and apparently people notice), so there is an element of fun to it – but moreso once I’m comfortable with who I’m with and where I am. I stick to blues, grays, whites for first days and big meetings.

Here’s where the real issue is for me: my headcover.

I’ve worn hijab for 11 years now, Alhamdulillah. In that time, I’ve gone from tentative uncertainty to gradual comfort to unabashed self-confidence.

I believe that wearing hijab is good for me on many levels: it fulfills a religious requirement and provides spiritual and moral benefit, it allows me to express a carefully tailored Islamic identity, it makes me a walking (and hopefully, counter-stereotypical) symbol of Islam and gives me the opportunity to teach others the truth about my faith, and it earns me the respect of my Muslim and non-Muslim friends and colleagues.

I’m very proud of my hijab and my choice to wear it, and Alhamdulillah, I’ve never doubted my decision.

But in the past year, I’ve come to be uncomfortable and nervous in situations that would never have affected me before law school. It’s always been nerve wracking to be a muhajjibah when you’re going to a small Southern town, where the stereotypes in your head are activated and you find yourself thinking, “That man looks like he might shoot me if I make one wrong move.” But as long as you smile, stay polite, things usually turn out okay in those situations. (Note that sometimes, part of the art of wearing hijab also means gracefully ignoring prejudicial comments from the peanut gallery).

Wearing hijab as a law student, soon to be lawyer is nervewracking on a different level. For the first time ever, when I attended my first professional/social event, I found myself nervous when I walked into the hall full of attorneys and judges – butterflies-in-my-stomach, a stomach-twinging kind of nervous.

I couldn’t help thinking, “What will they think of me?” For some of them, especially the older men “old boys” types, maybe this would be their first encounter with a Muslimah, a brown and hijab-ed one at that. Would they doubt my abilities as a lawyer? Would they think I’m a little “too diverse” for their tastes? Would they let me fit in to their profession?

I hate feeling like that. I hate that, when I walked into my first job interview with Justice Timmons-Goodson at the NC Supreme Court, I thought “what if I won’t belong here?”

I had left those feelings behind on the first day of high school, when I started wearing hijab and emerging from my middle school chrysalis. What were those emotions doing back here, in my throat and stomach, when I was about to meet a state Supreme Court Justice?

I was nervous, shaky, and agitated – but thankfully (and this is a testament to her greatness), the Justice took me into her office, spoke to me kindly and with an obviously real interest in my opinions, and finally gave me the job. I still look to her, a beautiful African American woman (the first on the NC SC) who worked hard and proudly stands for what she believes in, as an example of who I want to be. Her clerks were also like her – Saad, a Muslim clerk of Pakistani origin whose intelligence blew me away from the start, and Jenny, a mother of four whose absolute skill in excelling in both work and family life inspired me and let me dream of having a life like that, too. And of course, there was the unforgettable Ms. Elaine – an open minded, loving woman with great hair who has deep and hilarious conversations with you no matter who you are.

I was ashamed of how nervous I was – not because I did not have confidence in my skills, but because of what I thought others would see when they saw my hijab.

Imagine my annoyance, then, when the same feelings sprang back up when I walked in for an interview with the NC Attorney General’s office for my current summer internship. Justice Timmons-Goodson had come with high praise from some of my most respected advisors, and I had a feeling that, being a minority herself, she would not be as weirded out by a muhajjibah. But I felt twice as apprehensive while waiting for my two interviewers at the AG’s office. I’d never seen these women before and had only spoken to them on the phone. They’d been attentive, engaging, and friendly on the phone – but what if they’d just been expecting a normal brown girl, not a muhajjibah?

They didn’t flinch when they both walked into the lobby, where I stood anxiously looking at pictures of former NC Attorneys General. They were everything kind, polite, engaging, and fair (and have continued to be so as I’ve started working here). I was simultaneously at ease, and exasperated and embarassed for my suspicions. Hadn’t I done just to them just what I was afraid they’d do to me?

Stereotyping is contagious.

Still, I can’t help feeling the nerves.

I still feel that when I speak in class or express an opinion (especially one having to do with war, national security, or civil rights), I’m often speaking as a symbol of Islam (this is part of what kept me relatively quiet in my National Security Law class, and if it was not for the absolute kindness and open mindedness of Professor Scott Silliman, I would never have opened my mouth. My classmates are the people I will be working with for the rest of my life, so I didn’t want to be branded as ‘That crazy liberal Muslim girl from law school.’).

I still feel that, to some degree, I will be judged by what I wear on a different level than a woman who wears a revealing shirt or skirt – because my kind of clothing marks me as distinctly different and possibly foreign (and to some, dangerous), instead of just a little too liberal in fashion sense. Maybe I’m just imagining the looks from the “old boys,” the lawyers who’ve been working for longer than I’ve been alive. Maybe not.

But really, in the end, most of them will not treat me differently, at least not in the public interest law field that I’m working towards. I’ve still got the unabashed confidence for 99% of the time. In the end, overwhelmingly, I feel respected, not rejected.

And the most important thing is that I know what I am doing is right for me (both wearing hijab and being a lawyer), and it makes me happy to do it.

But it’ll always be in the back of…or, I guess, on top of…my head.

The last day of my internship at the NC Supreme Court, Jenny took me aside and told me how proud she was of me for wearing a scarf. She told me that there would always be people who would treat me differently because I wore a scarf, but that I wouldn’t want to work for those kinds of lawyers and law firms anyway.

Thanks, Jenny. You’re right.

Glossary:
Hijab: the Muslim woman’s (Muslimah) religiously mandated style of dress and behavior that is meant to embody and encourage modesty, spirituality, and ethical goodness. The term “hijab” means more than just a particular item of clothing, but it is commonly used to refer to the scarf that covers the head and neck. A Muslimah who wears hijab is called a muhajjibah.

Halal: (an extremely simplified definition) what is allowed by Islamic law.

Alhamdulillah: “Praise be to God.” Used to express thanks.

Best read in coordination with: “The Professional Hijab”

What does that question really mean?

It can mean a lot of things. “What’s your hometown?” or “Where’d you go to high school?” or “Sweet tea or ‘iced tea with sugar?’”

But coming from some people, it certainly feels like “Oh, you’re brown. What kind?”

There’s a duality to that question that is inescapably strange – at once both uncomfortable and amusing. The duality is something you have to experience to understand, to hear in the tone of voice and the manner of speaking (forced polite interest, instead of rabid eagerness), the look in the eyes (polite but subtly wandering from your hijab back to your eyes). There’s just….something else there, something behind the query.

Am I being racist? Or just paranoid? A little of both, I think. I definitely give a straight answer to brown people more often than I do to white people, because my first instinct is to assume that the latter don’t really want to know what American city I’m from. And I’ve noticed that the older or younger the questioner is, the more likely I am to give a straight answer – it’s middle aged questioners that really bother me (again, only those with the duality in their voice).

But really, I think there is something to it. Some people mean more than just “Where are you from?”

For those “duality” questioners, especially those with a not-so-masked desire to really know what kind of brown I am, the interrogation usually goes like this:

“Oh, well where are you from?”

“Raleigh. Actually, I’m in the borders of Cary, but my street address is in Raleigh. It’s weird.”

“Oh, well were you born in Raleigh?” (now I KNOW what they’re doing).

(laugh) “No.”

“Oh.” (knowing smile) “Well, where were you born?”

(smile) “New York. While my father was getting his PhD from Cornell.”

Spare me the theatrics. I took Drama in 8th grade. I know what you’re doing.

It’s really hilarious when the conversation takes this turn.

“Well, your English is great.”

“Thanks. I’m in law school. They teach us pretty well there.”

Sometimes the convo ends this way:

“No, I mean where are you from?”

“You mean, what’s my heritage?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, my parents are from Pakistan.”

“Oh. Is that next to Palestine?” (seriously. not making this up).

Let it be known – I have no problem at all telling people my ethnicity or cultural background. I always have been, always will be, proud of who I am and where I come from. I wear it on my sleeve….and my skin. (and head, too, but more on that later). But if you really want to know, just ask me straight up. Don’t beat around the bush; it’s patronizing. Stop pretending to be interested in my street address, and just ask me what my heritage is. I’ll tell you, and I’ll be nice about it. I promise.

(more…)

Alhamdulillah. We couldn’t have done this without the help, guidance, and support of Allah, our parents, and our community. Our parents sacrificed much to give us hope, love, and the ability to follow our dreams. We will never be able to repay them for that.

Also, as my friend Sophia mentions, this cultural and educational movement takes on a similar form in today’s Muslim students going into medicine: “While our parents encouraged science careers or medicine for the monetary stability and gain, their children who are pursuing such a career might not be doing it for those reasons– and while the shift the kids are making isn’t in careers to another field, it is an ideological shift as to why they are pursuing such a career– i.e. medicine as a means of empowerment, being a poor doctor by passing up lucrative specialties for something like family medicine, and then using that career in ways to help the community that hasn’t been done before. again, this kind of shift also requires the stability that comes with being a second generation . . . so hopefully in the future this shift that is occurring towards non-science careers will be accompanied by a paradigm shift in what a science career can be used for. i think the key is for people to realize that the possibilities are endless. we have to get past a “survival” mindset and think bigger.”

A particular moment comes to mind when I think about why I came to law school. Once, I was at the masjid after I had started my first year of law school. An older brother who was active in the Muslim political action sphere stopped to talk to me. He is a Palestinian who had to leave his homeland. He said Salaam and asked me how I was doing, what I was up to. I told him I was in law school. We were both walking away, but he stopped and smiled brightly. “You make us so proud, Sister Taiyyaba,” he said, “we are so proud of you.” That’s when I realized that going to law school isn’t just about doing it for me….it’s about doing it for them – for our parents who sacrificed for us, for our community who gave us a home. Inshallah, all of us youth who are working in any field now have to keep ourselves grounded in our roots and remember who we are.

And we don’t just have to work for “Muslim” issues to be true to ourselves. Being who we are makes us uniquely situated to empathize and sympathize with other communities who are finding themselves victim to the same discrimination and struggles. Being empowered by our careers makes us able to do something about it for all of us. We have to be fighters for justice for all.

O ye who believe! Stand out firmly For justice, as witnesses To Allah, even as against Yourselves, or your parents, Or your kin, and whether It be (against) rich or poor: For Allah can best protect both. Follow not the lusts (Of your hearts), lest ye Swerve, and if ye Distort (justice) or decline To do justice, verily Allah is well-acquainted With all that ye do. (The Noble Quran, 4:135)

Shout out to Natasha, Saja, Yasmin Amer, Shahid, and all the other Muslim liberal arts students who were interviewed in the article! Thanks also to Nigel Edwards, whose picture is in the article in the center of the section; he was also part of our group of four Muslim law students from UNC who interviewed for this article.

Students on course for empowerment
More young Muslims gravitate toward careers in law, journalism, acting and filmmaking
By Yonat Shimron, Staff Writer
http://www.newsobserver.com/105/story/1274326.html

One year ago: Muhajjibah = 1, Robber = 0

For those of you who have not been so fortunate as to hear about this shirt or know its creator, Mike Mallah, let me introduce you!

Mike is one of the most humble, polite, and caring people I’ve met. He has faced the kind of challenges that would break most people. But Mashallah, not only has he dealt with them all with grace and gratitude, he has used them to project himself into, Inshallah, a successful medical career. I’m lucky to know him.

Mike is a Palestinian who got sick of stereotypes and decided to do something about it. He realized that the root of most stereotyping is ignorance, so he started the Not A Wear company. At www.NotAWear.com, he sells this phenomenal tshirt – simple, black, with a message in red and white:

You should by this shirt, and you should wear it. The portion of the proceeds goes to Seeds of Peace and United Palestine Apparel.

Today, I was wearing my Not a Terrorist shirt in a very serious manner – black pants, black long sleeved shirt underneath, topped with a red hijab to highlight the colors (Sarah L. called it “blood red). It just looked like I was making a statement.

Today, I got a “look” – you know what look I mean – the “whoa…uh…okay….” kind of deer-in-headlights look when you’re wearing an emphatic t-shirt. I instinctively held my Evidence book so that it covered the message…..and then called myself a cop-out for doing that.

For some reason, the “looks” bother me more than they used to when I wore emphatic shirts in high school or college. (I had one from MuslimBasketball.com that was just a black tshirt with MUSLIM in big white letters across the chest. I loved that shirt. My mom, probably for my own good, hid it for a little while after 9-11 so I wouldn’t wear it to my high school). Maybe it’s because today I feel very strongly about presenting a professional appearance while in law school because it adds credibility to my external professional image, which might be a little hampered in some circles because of my hijab. I think twice about wearing this shirt every time, wondering what my professors will think. It could also be because today is the Law Review Symposium and there are legal professionals in suits walking around everywhere.

But, I want to get over that. I spend too much time sometimes thinking about what other people think of my professional appearance (though, you have to fairly grant me that in my profession, that is quite important in most circumstances). I find this shirt increasingly powerful as we move towards the election, and I’m going to wear it on Nov. 4th.

What a great speech by Powell today, eh?

Colin Powell during his interview with Tom Brokaw, speaking of his endorsement of Democratic Senator Barack Obama for President and his disappointment with the narrowing of the Republican Party:

“Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer is no. That’s not America. Is there something wrong with a seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing he or she could be president? Yet I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion that he is a Muslim and might have an association with terrorists. This is not the way we should be doing it in America.

I feel strongly about this particular point because of a picture I saw in a magazine. It was a photo essay about troops who are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.

And one picture at the tail end of this photo essay was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery, and she had her head on the headstone of her son’s grave. And as the picture focused in, you could see the writing on the headstone. And it gave his awards — Purple Heart, Bronze Star — showed that he died in Iraq, gave his date of birth, date of death. He was 20 years old.

And then, at the very top of the headstone, it didn’t have a Christian cross; it didn’t have the Star of David; it had crescent and a star of the Islamic faith. And his name was Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan, and he was an American. He was born in New Jersey. He was 14 years old at the time of 9/11, and he waited until he can go serve his country, and he gave his life.”

Also see Arsalan Iftikhar’s interview on Al-Jazeerah English on General Colin Powell’s endorsement of Barack Obama today. [And check out www.theMuslimGuy.com!]

Also look at this article:

Muslims applaud Colin Powell for defending them
October 23, 2008

Lepers. Untouchables. Politically radioactive.

These are ways American Muslims describe their status in an election year when Barack Obama’s opponents are spreading rumors that he is Muslim, when he is Christian, and linking him to terrorists.

So when Colin Powell, a Republican, condemned using Muslim as a smear — a tactic he said members of his own party allowed — there was an outpouring of gratitude and relief from American Muslims.

‘‘That speech really came out of left field and really shocked us,’’ said Wajahat Ali, 27, an attorney and playwright from Fremont, Calif. ‘‘The sense is that it’s about time. He said something that needed to be said.’’

The retired general, who was President Bush’s first secretary of state, made the comments on NBC’s ‘‘Meet the Press,’’ as he broke with his party to endorse the Democratic nominee for president. Powell noted in last Sunday’s broadcast that Republican John McCain did not spread rumors about Obama’s faith, but Powell said he was ‘‘troubled’’ that others did.

‘‘The correct answer is, he is not a Muslim, he’s a Christian. He’s always been a Christian. But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer’s no, that’s not America,’’ Powell said.

‘‘Yet, I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion, ‘He’s a Muslim and he might be associated (with) terrorists.’ This is not the way we should be doing it in America.’’

Powell said he felt especially strongly about the rumors because of a photo he saw in The New Yorker magazine of the mother of a Muslim soldier in Arlington Cemetery embracing her son’s grave, which was marked with a Muslim crescent and star. The solider, Kareem R. Khan of New Jersey, was 20 when he was killed in Iraq.

‘‘We American Muslims have talked about our patriotism and the heroism of some American Muslims till we were blue in the face, and neither the media nor the people listen,’’ said Seeme Hasan, a Pueblo, Colo., Republican whose family has given tens of thousands of dollars to the GOP.

‘‘Gen. Powell made people listen and at a very humane level,’’ said Hasan, who is backing McCain. ‘‘More people in leadership positions need to say this and recognize this — that American Muslims have worked very hard to fight this war on terror.’’

The inaccurate claims that Obama is secretly Muslim started as soon as he was mentioned as a potential presidential candidate.

There were false rumors that he was educated at a radical Islamic school as a child in Indonesia and that he was sworn into the Senate on the Quran.

His opponents emphasized his middle name — Hussein — and circulated a photo of him wearing traditional tribal garb on a 2006 visit to Somalia.

Kari Ansari, a mother of three from Villa Park, Ill., said the allegations upset her 10-year-old son.

‘‘It sort of made him feel like, ‘If they won’t elect him president just for trying on Muslim clothes, they will never elect me because I’m a real Muslim,’’’ said Ansari, a founder of America’s Muslim Family, a quarterly magazine. ‘‘That’s heartbreaking for us as Muslim parents.’’

Obama has combatted the claims in speeches and on a campaign Web site dedicated to debunking inaccuracies about him. But the belief persists.

A poll by the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press found 12 percent of voters believed the Illinois senator is Muslim. That poll was released Tuesday — coincidentally, the same day the head of a New Mexico Republican women’s group called Obama a ‘‘Muslim socialist’’ and said ‘‘Muslims are our enemies.’’ County and GOP officials condemned the statements.

‘‘Muslims feel jaded by the 2008 election precisely because they see the smearing of their identity,’’ Ali said. ‘‘Muslim or Arab is seen as a scarlet letter, political leprosy, kryptonite. There is that taint there. We’re the lowest of the low.’’

The experience isn’t entirely new for American Muslims, who have struggled for acceptance in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. The major parties have quietly courted them for years, yet presidential candidates have refused to publicly associate with them, leaders say.

The exact number of U.S. Muslim voters is not known. But many are wealthy professionals who came to the country to earn graduate degrees in engineering, medicine and business. They settled in significant numbers in key states including Michigan and Florida.

Presidential candidates ‘‘are not willing to have their photo taken, they don’t meet with Muslim organizations, and they shy away from any issue that may link them to the Muslim community,’’ said Salam al-Marayati, executive director of the Muslim Public Affairs Council, a Los Angeles advocacy group leading a national Muslim voter registration campaign.

‘‘We’re treated as untouchables in politics,’’ al-Marayati said. Yet, this year has been especially painful because of the attacks on Obama.

Hesham Hassaballa, a physician and author from Chicago, said this month he formally left the GOP, partly because of the allegations. Like many other Muslims, Hassaballa had joined the Republican Party because of its small-government philosophy, social conservatism and pledge to limit taxes.

In 2000, he supported McCain in the primaries, then Bush in the final election. Four years later, he backed Democrat John Kerry for president, partly to protest Bush policies on detaining and interrogating terror suspects, but remained Republican.

Now, he says the party has abandoned its principles. ‘‘The McCain of 2008 is not the McCain of 2000,’’ Hassaballa said. ‘‘With the way the campaign has been going and a lot of the anti-Muslim rhetoric, just how the McCain campaign has conducted itself, just really turned me off.’’

The McCain campaign did not respond to requests for comment. In defending himself, Obama has rejected the idea that being called Muslim is an insult. His campaign also has an outreach coordinator to the Muslim community.

Some American Muslims said they wished the Illnois senator would say more forcefully that their religion should not be used as a smear, but said they understood that it could damage his presidential bid in this political climate.

‘‘I don’t think there could have been any better messenger than Colin Powell, being someone who is a well-respected Republican, a former secretary of state and an army general,’’ said Arsalan Iftikhar, a Washington, D.C., civil rights lawyer and writer who supports Obama. ‘‘American Muslims feel slightly politically radioactive at this time. This sends a resounding message of inclusiveness.’’

I am very disappointed that MAPAC NC endorsed BJ Lawson over the incumbent, Congressman David Price. This was a very hasty decision based on Dr. Lawson’s well-spoken presentation at the MAPAC candidates forum – but we cannot overlook Dr. Lawson’s inexperience and impracticable views. Because he has so little experience and would be a junior member of the Republican party, forced to vote party line, I doubt that he can exact any of the changes he promises. Please see below my detailed explanation for why I support Congressman David Price.

Also, Congressman Keith Ellison, the first Muslim Congressman, also called MAPAC earlier this week to encourage us to endorse Congressman David Price. He gave us these reasons:
1. David Price is a strong leader in Congress
2. He is respected by members of both parties
3. David Price has always stood with Keith Ellison when issues of hate/bias/discrimination have come up in the Congress
4. Keith Ellison can always turn to David Price when he needs support in Congress
5. Keith wants to build the Muslims momentum in the US political system through rational/practical choices and decisions
6. Ron Paul and his followers have extreme views which will not be successful in the US Congress. Dr. Lawson’s views are very heavily influenced by Ron Paul.

Politics rewards experience.
Firstly, we must realize that the power structure of politics rewards experience. Congressman Price has 20 years of experience in the House of Representatives. I worked in his office for a summer and I saw firsthand the respect he has from both Republicans and Democrats because of his seniority. Dr. Lawson has no state government experience and it would be imprudent to send a novice to Congress at this critical stage of American healthcare, economy, national security, and international affairs. As a junior member of Congress and a junior member of the party, Dr. Lawson will probably have to vote with his Republican party on most issues and be restricted by that party’s conservative views.

Politicians reward loyalty.
Secondly, elected officials reward those who are loyal to them. It would be a mistake for us to endorse Dr. Lawson instead of Congressman Price. Change is good, but if we change something that has been working well for us for the past two decades, we would be shooting ourselves in the foot. Muslims have to think strategically about who we want to represent us in Congress.

A Congressman remembers who supports him and rewards that loyalty by protecting that community’s interests and by responding to its constituent needs. We should continue to build our relationship with him – and now we have the grounds to do so, to ask more of him, since we have supported him for so long. It would take another long term to build a relationship with a new candidate.

We have to think big.
Thirdly, our community has to think big – we want Senator Barack Obama to be president, but the more Republicans that are in Congress, the less likely it is that Senator Obama will be able to effect any meaningful change. I’ve already mentioned that Dr. Lawson would probably be restricted by his party in his freedom to vote. Mr. Price has more leeway in voting for something right because of his twenty years of experience and as a Democrat, would support Obama’s positions.Congressman Price has been loyal to our community on a personal, national and international level.

Fourthly, Congressman Price not only shows interest in our community here in NC, but is one of the few members of Congress who visits Muslim countries to constructively interact with those governments. He’s been to Lebanon, Afghanistan, Indonesia and many other countries and worked with their governments as a chair of the House Democracy Assistance Commission. I’ve even heard him say in a speech, when he was invited by a Jewish student group, that even though the United States is a friend of Israel, we do not have to agree with everything Israel does.

Congressman Price voted against the Iraq war from the beginning, when it was unpopular to do so and has continually introduced bills to revoke the war’s authorization. Since he has become chair of the Appropriations Subcommittee that funds the Department of Homeland Security, Congressman Price has worked to shift DHS’s attitude to focus on privacy and civil liberties. Also, Senator Obama has introduced the Senate version of Congressman Price’s bill on reforming regulations on private contractors following the Blackwater debacle.
Congressman Price has consistently supported the Muslim community. He always attends the MAPAC events and has year after year come to smaller meetings when invited by Muslims to their homes. He listens to our issues and gives us solid answers, not empty policy promises.

One personal thing I’d like to share that I haven’t shared with this community before shows how far Congressman Price will go to support our community and to do the right thing. When Professor Nasser Isleem’s wife and children were stuck in Gaza during the Lebanon war, I called Congressman Price’s office after every other avenue to get them out had failed. Not only did Congressman Price get Mrs. Isleem and her children out of Gaza, he chartered a plane and got 50 other Arab Americans, mostly women and children, out of Gaza when every border had been closed off. Any other Congressman would’ve said “Sorry, I can’t help you.” But Mr. Price went the extra 10 miles for people who weren’t even voting for him because we asked him for help.

Dr. Lawson is not ready to represent our community in Congress.
Lastly, Dr. Lawson is not ready for Congress and our community would be harmed by supporting him instead of Congressman Price. He is young and charismatic, but he does not have the experience in any level of government to make him a strong advocate for our issues. We need a powerful force like Mr. Price.
Dr. Lawson handed out copies of the Constitution as support for his campaign. But his extreme and conservative interpretation of the Constitution leads him to believe that many functions of government are illegal because they are not literally proscribed in the Constitution. He thinks Social Security and Medicare are unconstitutional. This is an unworkable from a legal point of view. If we based our laws only on what was literally in the Constitution, we would still be living with restrictive 18th century laws and social systems.

Dr. Lawson seems to believe that the Department of Education, research entities like the National Institutes of Health and the National Science Foundation, and safety net programs like Social Security and Medicare are unconstitutional and therefore should be abolished. Because he subscribes to a libertarian view that there has been too much financial regulation, he has advocated unworkable ideas on his website’s blog like abolishing the Federal Reserve and reverting to regional currencies or bartering. As a freshman member of Congress, Dr. Lawson would realistically be forced to vote with his Republican party and endorse all of its restrictive policies – or, even worse, he would follow the lead of his mentor Ron Paul in voting far out of the mainstream of both parties on many issues and accomplishing nothing.

Dr. Lawson is not unskilled or immature. He is charismatic and new. But he is not ready to lead us in Congress as Muslims or as North Carolinians. At most, let him prove himself and his ideas in state government first. Changing focus now and supporting him instead of Congressman Price would seriously dampen our voice and representation in Congress.

Mr. Price has the experience and initiative to support us as Muslims and North Carolinians. He has a history of speaking strongly for us and going out of the way to help us in times of need. We should continue to support him as we have in the past, and we can continue to expect him to be an advocate for us.

One year ago: H.Res. 635: Recognizing Ramadan.

Today is the third anniversary of the October 8th earthquake which started in Kashmir, Pakistan and killed more than 70,000 people. I wrote this on October 10, 2005 and I’m republishing it now in memory of those people, among them an uncle who left behind three young sons. May we never forget our brothers and sisters.

There’s something so different in watching a disaster on the news, reading about it, seeing pictures of the devastation, saying “SubhanAllah” as you watch the death toll rising – and actually experiencing the tragedy on a personal level. Why is that? What has extinguished our humanity such that the only time we feel true emotion about a calamity is if it affects us.

In the early days of Islam, the Prophet (S) did not yet have a pulpit, so he used to preach standing next to a palm tree. When a masjid was built and the Prophet was about to leave the palm tree for the last time, there came a sudden heart-shattering groaning, moaning sound. The sound was coming from the tree, and water actually started to leak from the tree’s trunk. Out of love for the Prophet (S), the tree had started to weep as if it were a human, so hard that the Companions could hear it groaning. The Prophet gently stroked the tree, and it stopped weeping.

Hearing the tree’s moaning, one of the companions said to the people – What is wrong with your hearts that you do not weep when you heard this sound?

At least 20,000 are dead. What is wrong with our hearts that we do not weep when we hear this number?

I am one of those for whom 20,000 was just a number, until I found out that an uncle was among them.

He was my father’s first cousin and was a colonel stationed in Kashmir. He had volunteered for a task and was driving a jeep when the earthquake shattered the mountain he was passing. A huge boulder smashed on top of his jeep. My uncle was thrown from the car and tumbled down a ravine. When they found him, his body was crushed. They airlifted him and he died in the helicopter. His wife became a 30-year old widow with three sons, aged 7 years to 8 months.

My uncle’s regiment lifted the rock which crushed him and placed it in their headquarters, where it stands now as a memorial to him and all those who died in the earthquake.

But my uncle is only one of those 20,000. A family friend of mine lost 20 people all at once. Another friend lost an uncle and cousin as they were trapped underneath the rubble of a collapsed apartment building in Islamabad. They could be heard calling for help, but then it rained. The 8-year old girl’s body was lifted out later.

May Allah soften our hearts such that 20,000 is not a number – such that 20,000 becomes 20,000 fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, daughters, husbands, wives, and children.

May Allah forgive all the dead their sins and enter them easily into Jannah. May Allah give their families patience and composure. May Allah help the areas hit repair and restart their lives.

May Allah turn our hearts towards the truth. May Allah soften our hearts and grant us awareness, compassion, wisdom, and love for the fellow man. May Allah forgive our sins and keep us away from sin and may Allah protect us from the trials of the end of time and save us from the punishment of the grave. May Allah grant us all Jannah, InshAllah.

Inna lil-Allahi wa inna ilayhi raji3oon Truly, we are from Allah, and to him we return.

Before this: My Big Fat Pakistani Syrian Life: The Beginning

So now that I was engaged, it was time to break the news to my friends. Ameir and I wanted to keep the engagement party small and intimate, just close friends and family.

First, I told Sumreen, my close friend and roommate of four years, who smiled that gorgeous smile of hers and hugged me tight. We promptly launched into a discussion of wedding clothes, colors, and what she’d wear to the wedding.

In our Senior year at UNC, Sumreen and I had just been blessed with the addition of two new roommates – the Masood Sisters, known collectively as HanaMona. So one evening, after we had prayed Maghrib together and were sitting on the living room floor, I said, “Ladies, we need to have a roommate meeting.” (Mona would later tell me that she thought “Oh God…they’re kicking us out…where will we live now?”)

“So, what are you guys doing on Labor Day Weekend?” I said. “Nothing…” HanaMona answered. “You’re coming to my engagement party,” I said. First, there was a moment of silence….followed by a “Dude. Oh my God.” from Mona and an “I’m going to throw up.” from Hana (she was happy for me, just shocked ). The rest of the week, Mona (a Punjabi mutayaaran in Hyderabadi skin) played Punjabi love songs as loud as they could go on her laptop, yelling “This one’s for you, Homie!”

As the day of my engagement got closer, I stayed pretty calm. I decided what to wear (a buttercup yellow shalwar kameez with yellow and green khussay). The night before the Fatiha, my friends came over and we decorated each other’s hands with mehndi. Nadia and Yasmin, who also spent the night, were surprised. “You’re the calmest bride I’ve ever seen! Why aren’t you nervous? You should be nervous.” But I was fine.

The day of the engagement, I slept in, waking up to the smell of my mom and our longtime friend, Nazia Auntie, cooking up delicious Desi food for the dinner. Wedding-related events usually work this way: one side hosts and the other side shows up en masse all at once. Ameir, his father, and their guests were going to pray Asr at the masjid and then come over to our house.

I was praying Asr in my room, dressed in my buttercup yellow shalwar kameez. Around the second rakah, it suddenly hit me – “Oh. My. God. I’m getting engaged in an hour.”

I finished my Salah, trembling, and started making dua with the words that came into my heart. “Allah, make Ameir and I pure spouses for each other in this life and the next.” This felt right, I knew, so there was no anxiety or discomfort. Instead, I was so thankful that Allah had given me a man that I could love and respect so much, and who loved and respected me in kind.

Yasmin and Nadia were at ease, though, about my nervousness. “Oh good, now you’re acting normally. We were worried about you.”

As we waited, Mona was helping set up the delicious and expansive spread of food my mom and aunts had made. She was making placards so that those with more delicate tastebuds could know what to avoid. (Some Arab friends who don’t eat the kind of tongue-burning spices us Desis do – why would anyone miss out, really? As they like to say, “What is wrong with you people? Even your yogurt is spicy!”).

Other friends were setting up plates, teacups, sitting with me to keep me calm, or peeking out the window on “Ameir watch.” From the living room, I heard someone laugh heartily from the buffet table. “Which Hydro,” laughed Mahroo, “Made these food labels?” Sure enough, there was the label for ground beef: Kheema.

The doorbell rang and I heard everyone come in (I couldn’t see anyone from where I was sitting). There was great joy and lots of hugging. The Muslim greeting “As-Salaam Alaikum!,” “Peace be upon you” was peppered with “Ahlan wa-Sahlan!” a Syrian greeting, rooted in the story of Ali (R) coming to ask the Prophet Muhammad (S) for his daughter’s hand in marriage, which means “We are family, so there is ease and comfort here.”

In the Arab tradition, the “bride’s side” brings food to the engagement party and the “groom’s side” brings flowers. As friends filed in, our house became filled with even more food and beautiful floral arrangements that somehow ended up close to me.

The “Ameir watch” friends became the “Ameir paparazzi” friends as dinner was served. They’d snap shots of him as he was going through the buffet and run back to show me (at no cost, how kind).

The Imam made Ameir take a scoopful of the spicy-hot spinach, saying “You’re marrying a Pakistani now! You have to eat this!” (I’m proud to say that Ameir can now handle almost more spice than I can). I couldn’t bring myself to eat much, but I was as happy and content as I could be (and less nervous, too!)

I loved my house as it was at that moment – filled with the love, smiles, laughter, and prayers of friends and family from all over the world. They were my religious teachers, my childhood friends, my aunties and uncles, 3mmos and khaltos, my parents and my close family. I felt that Allah had blessed me more than I could ever have asked for.

And then, after dinner, the nervousness began again. It was time……

(But you’ll have to wait for the next installment!)

Earlier posts of My Big Fat Pakistani Syrian Life:
MBFPSL: The beginning

Imagine this: You live in a small, close-knit community in rural North Carolina, outside the limits of the neighboring city or town. Your family has been on this land for generations as it has passed down from parent to child. You don’t have much money, but you make do, and taxes aren’t much. You live a happy life.

Now imagine this: One day, someone knocks on your door and tells you that yesterday, the General Assembly decided to annex your neighborhood into the town next-door. No one asked your permission or advice, or heck, even told you in advance that now, you’re part of that city. On top of it all, you have to start paying city taxes in addition to the county, state, and federal taxes you already pay.

Okay, not so bad? Wait, there’s more: Because the NC legislature gave your neighborhood to the city (who’d long been after that area to send some developers in), the city doesn’t have to follow the usual rules about providing you municipal services. You’re paying taxes, but the city isn’t giving you running water, sewer systems, trash collection, paved roads, or street lights. And there is no law forcing the city to every do so.

Pissed? Yeah. So are the residents of newly legislatively-annexed communities all over North Carolina, such as the people of the Brandy Creek neighborhood, who are the new residents of Roanoke Rapids.

(more…)