I know, I know – us feminists can’t even be happy with simple, plain eye candy and have to find flaws in everything. You’re welcome❤
I just don’t see why that image went viral and why everyone was so shocked to see that a Pakistani tea-seller could be so attractive – other than that he was being fetishized. Where in the world do people live that they lack good-looking men so much they go cray when they come to know of one? I think there are several reasons why this photo went viral and why especially Pakistani non-Pashtuns went cray-cray over it. Read on, fellers.
And, by the way, if you shared this picture on your social media, have been told why your choice to exotify it is wrong, and you’re still defending your choice because “but I shared it only because he’s so attractive and yet so simple! What’s wrong with that?” … yeah, you actually just answered your own question without realizing it, but let me break it down bit by bit because there are many layers to this problem. Continue reading
With Pakistan evicting some 600,000 Afghan refugees by the end of this year alone, this song, sung by Naghma in 2011 (I think?), is so real and relevant it’s heartbreaking. Song is at the bottom of the lyrics. The Pashto is in Green (one of my favorite colors, yay!). Immense thanks to T. A. S. for helping with translation of a couple of lines/words I was struggling with.
Posted in Afghans, beauty, being human, Death to patriarchy, human rights, I can't believe this needs to be said out loud, Just stop, let's talk privilege, migration, Pakistan, Pashto, Pashtuns, Poetry, violence in this world
This is for every daughter in the history of daughterhood. And for every woman who’s ever been told “I’m so sorry!” when she has given birth to a daughter. I’m sending you comforting thoughts and vibes❤
Eid Mubarak, world! Tomorrow, Monday, is Eid-ul-Adha – the “festival of sacrifice.” How unfortunate that too many of us interpret that in the literal sense. Ever paused to wonder if maybe it’s sacrificing our egos for a better, more just home, community, world, instead?
The following is for Muslim women, Muslim mothers, mother-like figures, and guardians on whom the community places the responsibility of not just generally taking care of but also managing children in mosques during Eid prayer and sermon while men do the hard work of, well, enjoying their child-free zones and being angry at us for taking care of their children.
If you haven’t yet realized, women are a miracle. And I’m not referring to their ability to give birth, to give life, to have miraculous bodies that can do wonders that humans still haven’t understood fully or even remotely begun to appreciate and value.
I’m referring to the fact that despite the millennia of violence, exploitation, oppression, hurt, injustices that we’ve gone through, we are still alive.
Dear Kashmala, my beloved Kashmala, my janan, zama da zrra armaan, zama da zrra sara, pa taa qurban! How my heart is overjoyed because you exist, because I have you, because this world has you.
Blessed be the day you were born, janana. Blessed be this day. How fortunate I am to be your aunt.
Being a woman
Recently, more and more, I have been observing the change that Muslim communities have undergone in terms of their perceptions of Islam’s views on gender – and all of of that is because of the hard work of Muslim women (at least some of whom identify as feminists) who don’t get any credit for bringing these changes at all. It’s infuriating, it’s exhausting, and it’s frustrating being in a position where you keep seeing that and keep being silenced. And when you point it out, there’s an outright rejection of this fact. I actually just got back from an event where I was discussing Qur’anic verse 4:34 with a man at the table (the man doesn’t believe dharaba means “to beat/hit”), and I pointed out the contribution of women scholars like Amina Wadud, and this man had an expression on his face that was a clear: “Um. No.” But he didn’t say no. He was just silent and shaking his head slowly left and right as if to desperately want to say no but also knowing that I knew what I was talking about and probably not wanting to be proven wrong at the moment. It was just his expression that was so dismissive of the idea of Muslim feminists bringing such meaningful change into a Muslim community.