Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Muslim Women in Development Literature

This post was originally published at Muslimah Media Watch.


I recently came across a publication by Cordaid, a Dutch development organisation, called "Looking for That Other Face: Women Muslim Leaders and Violent Extremism in Indonesia" (available here). This publication recounts the stories of six quadragenarian Muslim feminists from three islands of Indonesia (Aceh, Java and Lombok): Ibu Umi Hanisah (Meulaboh), Badriyah Fayumi (Kota Bekasi), Enung Nursaidah Ilyas (Tasik Malaya), Inayah Rohmaniyah (Jogjakarta), Nyi Ruqqoyah (Bondowoso), and Aini Masruri (Lombok).


Their life histories on how they oppose patriarchal dominance and other oppressions, and fight for social change and justice within their own communities, are told in individual chapters. For example, the first chapter is dedicated to the story of Ibu Umi Hanisah, 44, the head of a pesantren (Islamic boarding school) for girls. She recounts how her pesantren grew to be the go-to centre during the Acehnese struggle for self-determination and later on, the tsunami disaster in December 2004.

The authority she earned during these two events gives her credibility as a female community leader, which she uses to mediate cases of rape, domestic violence, and other social and interpersonal conflicts -- always following up on criminal cases. One of the ways she guards against future abuse is by ensuring that for example in the case of domestic violence, the man will sign a written contract to not abuse his wife, in the presence of representatives from their families, police, village, government, and social organisations.

These six chapters are amazing examples of how to portray Muslim feminists: let them say what they want to say. Apart from a few introductory paragraphs that summarise the life history of the featured woman, most of the chapter's text is in the form of quotes, which allow us to hear their story first hand (albeit translated from Bahasa Indonesia into English). Devoting an entire chapter to the story also allows for nuance and a tracing of their thought processes, which were not a result of the "West". As Enung Nursaidah Ilyas, a head of a school and a crisis centre for abused women, says:
"I am not a westerner. I am an Indonesian Muslim woman standing up for social justice."
However, I had the general impression that there was a clear difference in what the author had to say (in the form of his own text), and what the women themselves had to say (in form of quotes). Despite the clear inspiration of Islam for these women's feminist activism, the author seemed to insist on pigeonholing their actions into a liberal feminist framework. Freedom is only legitimate when one is "liberated" (p.73), when marriage is "self-chosen" (p.64), or when one is not sexually "prudish" (p.79). The author only highlights the importance of the Islamic framework only when talking about "increas(ing) women's sexual freedoms" (p.33).

For example, the author emphasises the individual choice of Inayah Rohmaniyah in choosing her own path in life even when she had already stated that her choices were influenced by her father's egalitarian ideas and the works of two prominent Indonesian scholars, Fazlur Rahman and Nurcholis Madjid.

The more important issue of the gendered and classist application of interpretations of sharia law, in the example she gives of poor girls being picked up for the offence of khalwat (close proximity between unmarried couples), but not elite women in cars. However, the author gives a hypothetical situation of a woman being arrested for wearing tight pants!

Another concern was textual accuracy. I was troubled by one of the quotes which wrongly attributed to the Quran a story about a pregnant woman asking to be stoned for adultery. This quote by Ibu Umi Hanisah is used to explain the "heart of our faith" as being "education and nurturing", not harsh punishment. The author then implies that praying and repentance were the true aims of sharia law.

His own interpretation of her words shadows the nuance from Ibu Umi herself. The text before and after the quote is more nuanced about sharia, emphasising that the real problem is the institutionalisation and unjust application of sharia, since sharia "is in everything we do" (p.20). As the publication was mostly targeted to the European donor and development industry, it would have been more useful to explain the misconception around the definition of sharia, in the light of recent right-wing fears of the "tsunami of Islamisation" of Europe, similar to the fear of 'creeping sharia' in the US.

Finally, I was concerned about the amount of self-reflexivity put into the publication. As a white Dutch man interviewing these women through a local woman translator, he seemed rather unaware of local social and religious norms. When a 14 year-old  girl in Nyi Ruqqoyah's pesantren refused to shake his hand just before maghrib prayer, he retells the incident in a condescending way.
"Goodness -- almost touched an unknown man! That would have undone her wudhu, the ritual hand-washing before prayer." (p.83)
Being a publication of one of the most well-known Dutch development organisations, it seems to target the Dutch development industry in general (since words that are similar to Dutch like "misi sosial", or social mission, are not translated). Despite some factual errors and a lack of self-reflexivity from the author, I think that the stories of these women collectively form a valuable resource to promote greater understanding of how feminism can work within an Islamic framework.

Friday, May 17, 2013

What is awra?

In mainstream Islam, aurat/awrah is taken to mean 'private parts' of women and men. This word comes from fiqh or jurisprudence; it does not appear in the Quran. This word is then used as a guideline for how women should dress, in addition to indications from hadith (and you all know how I feel about them by now: guidance, not law).

The verses from the Quran often used to explain awra actually contains words like zeena, furuj, and sawaAwra as it is used today conflates these three concepts in the Quran. Awra does appear in the Quran (33:31) but! let's analyse how it are used.

Awra

The root 'a-w-r (ain-waw-ra) appears only 4 times in the Quran in the same form of a noun, each time referring to different things.

The al-Ahzab verse (33:13) talks about a situation of war and unrest, known as the Battle of the Trench/Clans (Ahzab). Some believers were scared and wanted to flee from Yathrib (Madinah), by claiming that their houses were awra. However, such an argument made them bi'awratin. According to this interpretation, this group claimed that their houses were vulnerable. But by not showing solidarity with everyone else in Yathrib, they exposed their own cowardice and hypocrisy. (How you can use this verse to explain hijab is beyond me.)

Source

But! The other verse in al-Ahzab (33:59) is even more interesting. This verse is in the context of war, and the Prophet was told to tell women to wear jalbab in public, so that they would be recognised and not harassed. The verses before had been talking about hypocrites and other people in society who were out to make trouble. Wearing an outercoat/loose-fitting garment was supposed to help identify these women as believers, and therefore not to be harmed.

(A little bit like how more Afghan women started wearing the full burqa in times of political instability under the Taliban and occupation. Not so much that women are responsible for not being harassed or raped -- more on that in another post.)

It's important to note that awrat in al-Ahzab (33) was used to refer to houses and people's character, not to women being exposed or not.

Another verse in an-Noor (24) talks about 3 times of the day -- before dawn, at noon, and after isha' -- that are times of awra for anyone. At noon especially, it mentions that it is a time when we 'put away our garments', perhaps to rest or take a nap. The period before dawn and after the night prayer is also commonly the time we sleep, have sex, or rest. So what does it mean that these moments are awra? It can be translated as 'moments of privacy', since children below puberty should ask permission before meeting someone at these moments (24:58).

The last verse is giving guidelines on the different levels of undress that women are allowed in front of different groups of men (24:31). There is no harm for a woman to reveal her zeena in front of helpers, attendants, and children who do not yet know awra-t-al-nisa, translated as the 'private aspects of women'. To understand this verse better, we must look at zeena (seriously, click and read this before reading on.) furuj and sawa.

Sawa

The root s-w-a (sin-waw-hamza) appears 167 times in the Quran. The most common verses used to explain awra is the disgrace of the first two humans in Paradise. When Adam and his wife ate from the forbidden tree, their sawa was revealed to them when it was previously hidden (7:20). Saa  is something evil/harmful that causes distress (4:22, 4:38, 4:97, 4:115, 5:66, 6:31...). Sayyia  are bad deeds that are despicable because they cause harm to others (2:271, 3:193, 4:18, 5:12...) Sawata refers to a dead body (5:31).

Source
Taking the meanings as a whole, I think that the sawa revealed to Adam and his wife go beyond simply their nakedness. I think it refers to their ability to do evil, when in Paradise they were only able to do good; and also to be mortal, since they were tempted into being immortal (7:20, 20:120). An alternative interpretation: when Adam and his wife (metaphor for humanity) ate from the Tree of discord, they tried to covered themselves with righteous behaviour, but it was too late -- humanity had already split themselves into factions and started committing harmful deeds towards each other.

Sawa refers to the ability of human beings to have free will and do good and evil. It could mean nakedness, but it's still in the context of a specific story, possibly full of deeper meanings.

Furuj

The root f-r-j (fa-ra-jim) appears 9 times, referring to a rift or breaking open of the sky (77:9, 50:6) and chastity. Maryam is taken as an example of one who guarded her chastity (21:91, 66:12). Chastity and related modesty (as opposed to openly promiscuity) is part of virtuous behavior for men and women (23:5, 24:30-1, 33:35, 70:29).

Clearly, chastity is not something to be covered physically. When we are told to 'guard our chastity', it doesn't mean we literally wear a chastity belt. It means we control our actions. Whether what we wear helps us to control our own carnal desires or not, it's in our minds, not in our genitalia.

Summary

As a summary, awra in the Quran has only been used to refer to 'moments of privacy' (24:58) and 'private aspects of women' (24:31). What is often meant by awra in the conventional sense is actually zeena, furuj and/or sawa. Zeena talks about a women's beauty in an abstract sense, furuj is about chastity, and sawa is about our humanly characteristic to do good and evil.

Taking awra to mean a conflation of these concepts does not only mean that we currently have a weak understanding of the Quran (because no one can even point out the error of citing 33:59!), it also means that we confuse ourselves with the dominant, orthopraxic teachings, when the Quran has made these three concepts so rich and so useful for our daily living and spiritual sustenance.

Why reduce it to whether you are supposed to cover this or that, in front of whoever?

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