Swinging Door

"When we become truly ourselves, we just become a swinging door and we are purely independent of and at the same time dependent upon everything."

My mother has always told me I say too much, by which she means she would appreciate if more of what is in my head stayed inside my head. I have only followed her advice when I have done or seen things which have been outlined to require grave consequences if revealed, and in regard to those instances, I feel like I oppressed my soul for having taken part in something that must be hidden. Listen, I know that I wouldn't feel that way if those things hadn't been outlined as such, but they were and I do. So here's everything else.

If you don't do drugs, you will learn other ways to step back and look at your own life. You realize that's what you wanted in the first place, when you still had control. You will remember you always knew how to tear yourself away, if necessary, to open your laden arms and stop time to take stock-- what exactly are you carrying? Do you need all that? The questions have changed, and I'm getting better at making the assessment, but this act remains essential to maintaining sanity. It does matter what you step back into, too.

I need a close look, so I'm up late tonight. It's only 1:22AM in California. Still late for me these days, but I don't have to work tomorrow or the next day, I'm not tired because I didn't work yesterday or the day before. I don't have to worry about falling asleep late and missing the dawn prayer because I'm on my period, so excused this week. I'm not studying for a certification exam and I'm not in school or recovering from being in school. I haven't been in love in about 18 months. And my life has taken shape recently (read: I got my shit together) in a way that I had once imagined over twelve years ago and then completely forgotten about. Oh, and the world seems to be going to shit and I have never felt more calm about it. In other words, the universe has aligned and conditions for reflection are perfect. And I'm going to do that publicly because, don't you want to know how I did it all?

Awh, internal laudatory chorus. Stawpppp. It wasn't narcissism. I swear.

We've come a long way since the two whitest kids at my school asked me if I was related to Osama Bin Laden and if I believed in god, respectively. The other day, the whitest person at work asked me what the Muslim community thinks about ______. Chicken? Printer cartridges? Toilet Paper? I'm not actually sure. I faded out for a second and for that paranoid second, I wondered if he was asking me for A Reason and reassured myself-- this is not something I need to hide. Whatever he asked, I recovered in time to read him the first sentence of this paragraph, minus the bit about white kids. I think he got my point because he went on to express a bunch of sympathy for the disenfranchised (while maintaining a fiscal conservative stance). At least the one time that a non-Muslim POC bullied me, he had the awareness, in 2002, as a pre-teen, to put a towel on his head and imitate a muezzin. If I hadn't been terrified, I might have been impressed.

I've lost track of details. Are things worse now than they were fourteen years ago? I think so. But I can't say I've been trying to keep track of everything. It takes a considerable amount of work to go from literary studies (academic analysis of written cultural artifacts) to maintaining and building data systems. (That's a horrible description of it. My profession is not good at descriptions of our work. I apologize. I work on distributed databases. Sometimes I say, hey, it's still a matter of understanding the organization of information. Or, like, you know, the basic human experience of understanding.) First, I had to change from being a person who engages through only observation, however creatively or intelligently I did so, to a person who takes initiative and moves both ideas and resources. I also needed both an art degree and a science degree. I also fell in love and broke my heart a bunch of times. I swallowed my pride. I treated depression with unsanctioned drugs. I moved halfway across the country, and then entirely across the country. I pursued esoteric religion.

So I can't fully tell you how I ended up back on the path I meant to take when I was fifteen, the person I wanted to be before I realized how complicated global politics was going to make my life. You can't contain my whole life. You don't need to. No one can. But there are some parts that are critical for us to share.

I do still occasionally catch the news. Sometimes it can't be helped. I don't exactly avoid it, but I also don't feel constantly threatened. I do care. I pray for the dead. I pray for the living. I give what I can to people who have lost their homes, their families, their livelihood. I hope to do more of that. I work because I can and it's okay that some people can't do as much.

But I don't have all the defensive arguments down. I refuse to. I understand why they're important to some people. But I need more than that, deeper and wider. Yet, I already have everything I need.

I'm not who I'm not. I'm not even who I am. Identity, or what I project, where I feel I belong or who I show alliance with or however you want to define it, is only a small part of the self. I think most people only use a small part of the self. And when you have very little, you are likely to hold what you have very tightly. And probably spend all your money on it. But that's not the point of self. The point is to let it go.



the quote at the beginning is from a zen member of my family

Harem Pants: Yes or No?

I am conflicted about harem pants.

On one hand, I've owned "harem pants" for as long as I've lived. Only, I call them salwars and always wear them with a long tunic called a kameez in a traditional South Asian outfit. As modestly flattering and comfortable as I think they are, I only ever wore them that way as pajamas and thought of bedtime as Hammertime. According to Wikipedia, even Hammer pants take inspiration from "harem pants." Had it been socially acceptable for me to wear salwars without invoking images of genies, belly dancers, and MC Hammer (we'll talk some other time about why Hammer was rocking them) to white people and looking like I was fresh off the boat to brown people (dude, what's wrong with being new here?), I would have totally rocked them. Now that harem pants are trendy, I can do that without worry, right?

Wrong. The thing is, it's socially acceptable for fashionistas and hipsters so everywhere outside of a big city, I will still invoke those same images, especially since I don't want to come off as either a fashionista or a hipster. I regret not wearing salwars in high school, where I knew practically everyone. I don't think it would've come off as a failure to assimilate, as I was afraid it would, but, given my honors class taking bookworm reputation, as an experiment of a quirky, budding intellectual (I flatter myself). These days, people will initially perceive a fashion zombie tendency and/or a failure to assimilate, giving them options to choose from for steering clear of me. Eventually, if they still decide to give me a chance, the quirky (still budding) intellectual will shine through.

But then there's the fact that I think the social acceptability of harem pants is a racist turn of culture, which is sadly often the case when it comes to the appropriation of subaltern peoples' culture. The term invokes a cultural monolith, spanning from the Middle East out to South Asia. The harem, a Turkish social construction, did not exist in India, where the style originates. Therefore, the term implies that the entire region that was once the Islamic empire had a homogenous culture, which was untrue then and remains as greatly untrue today. Even sadder still, people consume racist culture without even realizing it's racist.

By the way, America, please don't wear harem pants if you protest against the lack of women's rights in the Middle East. I know you just want to look worldly and exotic despite your overwhelming whiteness, which means you already look ignorant, but it also looks like you're rubbing your supposed freedom from the harem in the faces of people you fancy being stuck in them.


So, if I, a brown girl who is often a hijabi these days, wears "harem pants," will it challenge or confirm the rampant stereotypes? First of all, I would call them salwars and correct anyone who referred to them otherwise. Maybe I just need a pair with "SALWAR" stamped on the ass. Yes.

Who's making your future?: An introduction to mine.

“There is no such thing as unmanipulated writing, filming, or broadcasting. The question is therefore not whether the media are manipulated, but who manipulates them. A revolutionary plan should not require the manipulators to disappear: on the contrary, it must make everyone a manipulator." -Hans Enzensberger (Rust Belt Visions: The 2011 Allied Media Conference)

It is a commonly held notion that the world around us isn't good enough. Maybe with the exception of people who belong to the elite class of luxury and excess, most of us look around us and see things that need to be improved. Most of us are willing to work towards improvement, if only for a good night of sleep following a hard day's work. We don't want our effort to line the pockets of the elite or further the damage already surrounding us.

For change to happen, we need resources. Knowing that one of the problems we face is a shortage of resources, some of us choose to directly address this need. I respect that effort, especially because to do it honestly it requires skillful navigation between the corporate creation of scarcity and actual need.

Apparent in my penchant for literature, rooted, perhaps, in the immigrant tradition, I want to address our need for resources by helping both people seeking to provide resources and the people in need of them think about what they really need and to best provide and/or obtain it, and I want to do it by addressing our escapist tendencies.

Next, though you might not immediately see how this comes next, a good story caters to the escapism of entertainment and a really good story teaches you something important at the same time. Though I have spent years of my life with my nose, nay my entire head, in some book, I know that most people escape into music, television shows, movies, video games, or, the biggest one of all: the internet. And though I was an English major, I know that most if not all media contains a message. The message is usually simple: consume more media from this source/follow this message.

BUT the original conception of the internet was not one prompting us to consume but to create. It was not to create another platform for corporate manipulation but to give us access to creating information. Dave Winer from Wired.com equates internet access with having access to your own personal printing press. And the more digitized media becomes, the future we can take that. Why not your own radio or TV station? Video game? Record company? Art gallery? Why not? It seems like the ultimate escapism until you realize the internet is a place where change can happen. In fact, it is happening but the change is being enacted by corporations and that needs to change.

The next question is that of creating media with messages in good faith. In other words, creating media in the context of creating a better world, not just one into which we can escape, as has been its historical corporate function. This is probably the hardest part. While I was English major, dissecting the worlds created in literature-- even though literary fiction is often a prompt to dissect the intentions of the world around us, facing the intentionality in the world around us is an incredibly difficult task. Before using literary analysis, which tries to pinpoint the techniques used by the author to create the message of the book, I never really thought of books as being authored, forget the process by which they are. The way I learned to read as an English major and the way I read before were entirely different and the difference nearly ruined the pleasure of reading for me.

But there are people who face intentionality at its worst everyday. People who face racism or sexism, for example, and know they should be judged as an individual rather than through prejudice. Especially when prejudice is encountered everywhere, it becomes apparent as being constructed with the intention to justify the mistreatment of others. People who struggle against it can tell you how important it is to know the historical context of both the force they reckon with and of their struggle as it proceeds.

For example, when part of a struggle against prejudice, such as the revolutionary movement of hip-hop, is commercialized and made into "pop," it's context (the Civil Rights Movement) disappears. So how do you create media in good faith? You make sure it is connected with the context of it's intention. Don't trust anything without context.

But simply providing context is not enough. Judith Butler, on addressing the lack of centrality/representation/leadership in feminism states that gender, to remain relevant and to avoid coercion, must function as platform for the interpretation of gender. For feminists, gender is a conversation starter, not a lecture. Gender is a context but without the opportunity to continually edit the contained content, it morphs into the polar opposite of what feminists (and humans in general) need it to be. Given, the next step is to empower people to contribute to the creation of information and media.

So, my goal is to help people become aware of information manipulation (giving them context) while giving them the skills to dismantle the sway of the current methods of manipulation as content contributors. This will not only help people become more aware of commercially created "need" but hopefully also help us find our actual context within which we can assess our actual needs. Believe it or not, you can learn all the necessary skills to do what I want to do at a good Library and Information Science program. So that's where I'm headed next.

Yale's "Call the NYPD" Protest and the role of the MSA in the American University

I haven't posted in a very long time! I've been pretty busy corralling application forms and figuring out the next step for myself. Which is close to being figured out, by the way. I'll explain some more in my next post because, in the interest of aforementioned corralling and figuring, this post will have to be a short one.

Side note: That title sounds like a paper title. Maybe I do miss being in school.

So, getting to the meat of today's topic. Recently, my sister's college MSO hosted a lecture by Ingrid Mattson, former president of ICNA. After a girl, claiming she was a photography student, asked to take a picture of my father, my sister brought up the recently publicized NYPD investigation of Muslim college student organization that, shockingly, pervaded the east coast much further than NYPD jurisdiction does.

While I am disappointed, and slightly confused since Bloomburg openly supported the Park51 Mosque, I would prefer to call attention to Yale's response because the way we respond to what gets thrown at us is what defines us and the way Yale students have responded is highly respectable.

To protest racial profiling, Yale students are posting pictures captions "Call the NYPD" of people on campus holding signs declaring "I'm a Muslim," "I'm a feminist," "I'm just trying to help," "We used to be Muslim," or simply, "I'm against racial profiling." The wide range of photos posted and wildly varying signs proclaiming personal identity effectively condones racial profiling.

Further, I believe that this act reflects the desire in the American Muslim community to be addressed as an individual. Though Muslim culture is generally collective, American Muslims have a tendency to either flout or walk the line between individualism and collectivism. I first noticed this after reading a ton of Sherman Alexie last summer, particularly his novel Reservation Blues, because I believe it's an experience shared by most minorities strongly associated with enduring stereotypes.

I was never an MSA member myself, though my school's chapter was the largest organization on campus. Most members were fairly conservative Muslims. There weren't any non-Muslims as far as I remember and being a female, semi-practicing Muslim who was grew up pretty American, I didn't feel like I fit in. I don't think the MSA was intentionally exclusive but I think the Yale protest certainly hints at a need for more diverse involvement within similar organizations across America.

Afterall, the MSA is not the campus mosque/masjid. Though it can certainly function as that as well, in the end, it is a campus organization and has to address the needs of the campus as well the Muslim community at the school. It has the opportunity to serve as a platform of discussion between Muslims and non-Muslims an intermediary is sorely needed there. Though mosques can do this as well, as a campus organization rather than a house of worship, this is a responsibility of the campus MSA.

Finally, I don't think the response from the Yale community at large can be dissociated from the character of the Yale MSA. The Yale MSA has a reputation for what some would call "liberalism." But this is a place where Americans Muslims walk a similar line as that between individualism and collectivism and should not be mistaken, though it often is, as counter to good religious practice. Islam, like other religions, historically adopted the culture of the land and mixed religious expression with cultural expression. I don't think that men and women praying side by side on a college campus, though it contradicts Islamic orthodoxy, can so easily be condemned as the religiously conservative are wont to do.

All in all, in my book: Yale 1, NYPD 0.

Don't Ask Me About 9/11.

"Islam is the religion of peace," has been the slogan on the lips of every Muslim American confronted by non-Muslims over the subject of Islam, terrorism, and 9/11. I know everyone is tired of talking about 9/11 but I have an important point to make, so hear me out. The utility of the saying is in its implication that those employing violence are not Muslim. Yes, the word Islam means "peaceful surrender" but does that make Islam the religion of peace, theoretically or otherwise? While Islam does not preach violence in the name of Islam, it also does not preach non-violence thereof. In fact, though judiciousness is a prerequisite, violence is commanded as a means of self preservation. In this context, saying, "Islam is a religion of peace," is just an inadequate defense to an unjust, racist accusation.

The intended audience of 9/11, was, in fact, supposed to include American Muslims for the same reason that Muslims feel compelled to disavow violence. It was a message to all Muslims, especially young Muslims, encouraging them out of lives of "humiliation" and into violent jihad against The West. Long story short, al-Qaeda protests the feeling that Muslims need to say, "Islam is a religion of peace," and would rather have us blow everyone, including ourselves, to pieces. However, the purveyors of al-Qaeda's message and those who openly received it, are just as oppressive as the circumstances they reject, if not more so, and towards their own people. This makes sense, since there is no hope, positivity, or compassion in their message, not to mention that it injudiciously condones violence. Summarily, though it took about ten years, al-Qaeda's message has been definitively rejected by Muslims around the world. Surprisingly, American (read: George Bush's) anti-Islam and European anti-multiculturalism's (which are really the same thing) "you're either with us or against us" sentiment has been much closer to al-Qaeda's message than anything any God fearing, sanity appreciating Muslim believes. (1)

In America, how do us American Muslims reconcile al-Qaeda's message and the American anti-Islam sentiment, both of which draw a black and white picture of east and west, specifically Islam and the west with our undeniably Muslim and irrefutably American lives? To do so by retreating into either Islam or western life styles would only prove the distinction correct, not to mention prove that we are cowards. But what happens when people say things like, "Islam is the religion of peace," which is nearly as misleading as saying it is the religion of violence, to answer the question, "Are you with us or against us?"

To that question, which is rarely asked directly, I see no way to choose either option. The gut response from me comes in the form of more questions. Questions like: Who are you and what army is "us"? Do you know how many Muslims there are in America? How many died in WTC? Did you know there were Muslims in America before 9/11 brought it to your attention? Did you know there were Muslims at all before 9/11? Do you have any Muslim friends? Were you with or against Timothy McVeigh? Did your ancestors own slaves? Did your ancestors drive Native Americans off their land? Do you believe in witches? What the HELL do you think gives YOU the right to ask ME that question?

Maybe that's a little passive-aggressive. It would probably be best to simply say, "You have no right to ask me that question." Either that or just walk away.

It's not a matter of making sure your hands are clean before you point your finger, it's just the fact that you are pointing a finger. I have no qualms with honest questions about Islam. If you want to talk about religion, I'd be more than happy to participate. Muslim Americans, myself included, have chosen to take up the responsibility of creating forums for people who want to know more about Islam. But if you approach me randomly and it has anything to do with violence (or patriarchy) I don't have sit around and have you patronize me.

Back when no one knew why 9/11 happened, it would have been perfectly acceptable for a Muslim to say, "Listen, I have no idea what's happening either and honestly, I'm pretty scared, too. All I know is that this has nothing to do with my faith," and answer any questions about Islam with anything other than, "Islam is a religion of peace," said to absolve the guilt put there by the accuser/"questioner." But now that everyone with any modicum of responsibility should know better, it is absolutely unacceptable to demean a Muslim American and make them feel guilty or responsible about anything 9/11 related by even asking them about it. If you do, al-Qaeda's message could be seen as reasonable and the world we live in is a terrible place.

Finally, though I know she might never see this, I'd like to thank my co-worker Christina for the solidarity today. I really appreciated that.


(1) Aslan, Reza. "The Fire This Time: The Long Term Effects of 9/11." Los Angeles Review of Books, September 9, 2011. http://lareviewofbooks.org/post/9988565795/the-fire-this-time