May Musings - 22

If you haven’t heard of my lovely friend from afar, Thordis Elva, you should. She’s an incredible writer and activist who I met a few years ago at Sydney’s ‘All About Women’ festival, where she was touring with her book, ‘South of Forgiveness’. If you haven’t seen her TED talk, it’s a great place to start. It’s a masterclass in bravery and courage, but also creativity and honesty when it comes to storytelling.

Thordis also has great Instagram game, and I’ve enjoyed following her journey in the years that I’ve known her through the online platform. She is a uniqely wonderful storyteller through that medium, making people from around the world feel like close friends. Part of that magic comes through the way she has brought us into her life: the way she shared her powerful pregnancy experience last year for example, was deeply inspiring, in the truest sense of the word.

Thordis was carrying twins. Her water broke early, and she was then forced into bedrest for weeks. The journey was harrowing, but against all odds the Icelandic powerhouse gave birth to two healthy boys (mashallah), despite doctors telling her that they would almost certainly not survive the early trauma. As she shares pictures and videos of the boys growing up, I feel like a far away God-mother they don’t know they have. The ‘army of light’ she calls us, those around the world who prayed and wished good luck from afar. Every time I think of Acer and Swan (the two boys), I think of the power of motherhood, community, and the possibility of social media for good.

Watching Thordis’s instagram story yesterday, I was greeted with something a little different. Elva is an activist for women’s equality and rights - has always been - and as such had been in vocal opposition to the recent Georgia abortion ban. Seemingly some folks had taken it upon themselves to question her legitimacy in doing so. Thordis responded with a history of her work, the many films, books and policies she created, and presented a CV that very clearly tells a story of a woman dedicated to the cause. ‘You go girl!’ I thought to myself, as I learnt about what this woman - who I knew was powerful but didn’t know the specifics - had achieved over the years. I reached out and shared my admiration, but also my personal struggles with owning my history and narrative. Thordis replied with such wisdom, I thought I must share it with you all today.

She talked about how even though talking about what we’ve done may not always feel comfortable, the reality is that as women (and in my case, especially as Muslim women or women of colour), our histories and legacies are so often forgotten. Not even just forgotten, they’re actively erased, eradicated, pushed out of the record books. It hurts, but we’re surrounded by that truth. Take a walk through any museum, art gallery or history section in the library. Even Muslims, following a religion that was founded on the idea of equal rights for all - have found ways to sideline the stories of women, ignore their perspectives and minimise their contributions. It’s so important, Thordis said to me, that we share and record our own achievements and histories. We must shout them from the rooftops, not just for our own egos, but for those who come after us. So that the work we do is not forgotten, is not scratched out, so that people don’t continue reinventing the equality wheel and imagining noone else has done it before.

It made me reframe two things in my mind: one, the importance of sharing what I have been able to do (with the grace of Allah, of course) so that people know it can be done and it has been done. Secondly, it made me question the number of times I have been considered the ‘first’ to do something - wear a headscarf in a particular school, company, department, the ‘youngest’ to start a youth organisation, the first Muslim to do XYZ… how do we know there haven’t been others? There may well have been, and we’ve just forgotten. It’s a welcome, humbling and urgent thought.

What do you think? How important is it for us as individuals to be involved in maintaining and recording our legacies and histories? What do you think about all of this?

May Musings - 09

My Best Tourist Self

Day Two in Georgia, and what a delight!

Before I begin, I want to make an amendment. I was alerted by a reader yesterday that referring to Georgia as a post-Soviet nation may be seen as disrespectful, as it more acknowledges a political experience visited on the nation rather than the true ethnicity of the people themselves. As such, I’ve learnt, the ideal way to refer to the region is the Caucasus. Interestingly, it’s where the term ‘Caucasian’ comes from - so rather than the term simply meaning ‘someone who is white’, as I’d always imagined, it means ‘someone from the Caucasus’, a specific area between the Black and Caspian Sea.

Fascinating, right? It is also a reflection of my ignorance regarding this region’s history. It’s humbling to be reminded that although one may have deep expertise or knowledge about a particular part of the world, that knowledge is hyperlocalised. In my case, I am most familiar with the North African and Middle Eastern context, as well as Australia, but I’ve studied near nought about the Soviet Union, or the history of the Slavs, Central Asia or the Caucasus.  This makes being here in Georgia particularly thrilling: learning about a totally different history feels like gaining an understanding of a completely different way of being in the world, in a way I’ve not previously understood possible. 

It has also been interesting to notice that the tensions associated with travelling as a Muslim or a black person in Europe are virtually non-existent here.  Obviously, it’s only been a few days, but the lack of hostility has been remarkable - until one remembers that their political history is markedly different. Georgia doesn’t have a history of African slavery, for example, or indentured labour from South Asia. Its tensions are related to Russia and the Soviet Union, and so it’s much less about colour and more about ethnicity, language, and ostensibly, politics.  I’m curious to talk to Muslims and people of colour who live here though, so hold that thought until I do a little more digging…

All in all though - loving Tbilisi so far, and my, the Georgians are kind. Mashallah!

***

In other news, here’s a great read on Harper’s Bazaar on men, how notions of masculinity are toxic and how women have shouldered the burden for too long.  If this is an area of interest for you generally, the article might not present new information but it does give a good overview of the changes underway (or needed!) for men to be their whole selves. It also sites a shocking recent British study which reports ‘2.5 million men admitted to having no close friends’. What a state of affairs indeed.

After several failed relationships, Scott Shepherd realized that despite  being an empathetic, self-aware guy, he was still missing a key element  to his emotional health: a few good (woke-ish) men. 

The article reminded me of the many conversations I’ve had with my self-aware, male friends who enjoy speaking about personal and vulnerable matters with me, but have said they struggle to do so with their male peers. One hopes that, inshallah, these things are changing. However, it’s also one of the few areas that I personally - as a woman - don’t think it’s my place to get directly involved in. Yes, women can uphold the patriarchy and notions of toxic masculinity in many ways, but we will not be the ones to change it. I do believe men need to be brave and take the leap themselves. Other genders can support those who are driving the change, and help provide an environment amenable to it, but ultimately, the change needs to come from within.

What do you think? Are these changes something all genders need to be involved in driving, or should it be led by men?

How do we Lest to Forget...If we never knew?

Can you adopt a country's history if it isn't your birth or ancestral background?

When you become a citizen of a country, do you absorb its triumphs and tragedies? Does your new country's commemorations become yours?

ANZAC day is something of a sacred day for Australians.  Thousands wake up at dawn on the 25th of April to listen to the solemn, heart wrenching tones of the Last Post, to honour the fallen soldiers of yesteryear and to thank those who continue to dedicate themselves to the defence of our nation.

To be honest though, ANZAC is probably something that holds mixed meaning to those who, like my family, migrated to Australia and do not necessarily have the shared history.

Gallipoli, for example, is a huge part of the ANZAC legend. Yet that campaign was fought against the Ottoman Empire, and many of those troops were  Muslims from Turkey. How does someone, born as a Muslim in Turkey but who grew up in Australia, reconcile that?  Closer to home, how does someone who arrived to Australia perhaps as an Afghan or Iraqi refugee, fleeing from a war in which Australian troops took some part in... how does someone like that be a part of the fabric of the ANZAC story?

This can be construed as treacherous talk, definitely.   War and conflict are hugely emotive issues and often form part of a national identity.  It isn't treacherous though; it is so important that we as Australians get it right.  I am a lowly civilian, I have no history (Alhamdulilah) of war or conflict of any kind to relate to (my family are engineers through and through, and everyone needs engineers!) so can't claim to know the way things should be commemorated or in any way intend to warp the import of the history.  This isn't intended to be sacrilegious, but an opportunity to start a conversation.

I am passionately Australian and to share in what is a huge part of the Australian identity is a must.

So how to relate to and reconcile the history? How do I, as a migrant Australian Muslim, find my value and space in the ANZAC legend?

I look at it as a human.

Often, there is no one truth, nobody who is 'right'...only those 'left' standing.

So rather than dehumanise any 'side' by seeing them as the enemy, I think of our shared history as humans.  I see ANZAC day as an opportunity to commemorate those who chose to give their lives up for a purpose larger than their own.  I chose to pray for, my heart aches for, young lives lost, missed connections, misunderstandings.  For troops who became friends on no-mans-land in downtime only to realise these were the people they were then to kill.  For young people today who go away to fight for something they care about, whether it be a country or a tribe or a even their religious freedom - who am I to judge what is worth fighting for? For those who come back with PTSD and suffer even longer, that sacrifice perhaps less appreciated...

For if ANZAC is about bravery, mateship, fighting for what's right... well we all have our own manifestations of that.  Yes, for many it is about slouch hats and medals, but sitting alongside that surely it is about recognising our humanity as Australians and being grateful for a greater sacrifice.

We do adopt a country's history when we choose to call it our home, because history is part of a nation's identity.  It is what it is. Although we may not remember it, it is our duties to make sure we do not forget.

We humans too often forget the lessons of our past...

***

Edit @ 5:30pm 25th April 2014: 'Turkey' was replaced with 'Ottoman Empire' to reflect the true nature of the conflict.

How much is your mother worth?

"How much is your mother worth? How much money would your brother, sister or aunties be worth?"

The words rung in my ear.

Yesterday, I had the fortune to sit in a presentation by the Larrakia Foundation, a group that advocates for the interests of the Larrakia, the Aboriginal people of Darwin.

The cultures of the traditional owners is remarkably fascinating, and it always surprises me how little I know whenever I learn something new.

Granted, there are hundreds of different Aboriginal nations in Australia, all with their own languages, customs and types of beliefs.  Some things though, like the kinship system are found in many different 'nations', and I was amazed to only be finding out about it yesterday!

The lady in the presentation talked about many a thing, but one line in particular has remained with me.

"How much is your mother worth?" She asked.

"People tend to think the apology is about compensation. Tell me, how much money would you want if your mother was taken away?"

I shook my head to make sense of it. Although I have always had compassion for those affected by the stolen generation, it is when messages like that are shared that it is really brought home.  

Yes, we are not personally responsible as individuals who are descendant from those who made the decisions to persecute and oppress others.

However, we are responsible for having compassion for one another. We are responsible for ensuring that as a society, we look out for each other and not let race be a determining factor in our interactions.

That brings us to where we are now as a nation. The repeal (technically the amendment but it's so weak it is essentially a repeal) of 18C and 18D in the racial anti-discrimination act is something I have been fuming about for a while.  You can send in submissions, and I'd suggest that.

Fundamentally though, for those who aren't across the changes, my issue is this:

If we are to give people the right and permission to 'be bigots' as adults, what on earth are we teaching our children?

We talk about fighting bullying, yet we let people bully each other, publicly, because, why? It is in the interests of a small minority of powerful men? We talk about a fair go, and yet want to judge insult by the standards of the perpetrator?

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the litigious nature of things that we forget the bigger picture.

The bigger picture is this:

Multiculturalism and diversity do not happen by accident.

We aren't a beautiful mixed nation of migrants because a bunch of random people just decided to visit a huge island.  The fabric of our society is delicate, and something to be worked on.  We have to proactively support multiculturalism and cultural diversity in order to keep Australia thriving, not tear it down bit by bit so that groups feel more and more marginalised...

One day I hope we will look back and think, "woah, wasn't that crazy? We almost let that happen... Thank goodness we didn't."

In this day and age though, I am not so sure.