I don’t even know what I said, but what a question indeed.
I didn’t know how to articulate it, and I don’t know if I ever will.
I didn’t know how to say that knowing Allah is there, all the time, that was all I ever needed to know.
That I hear him in music that moves, see him in the outline of mountains against the sky.
That my mortality frightens me, an intense fear that I may not be doing enough… a fear that my life is too easy, a fear that these blessings are in fact my hardships, and that I am failing the tests.
That sometimes, not very often, but sometimes...
I buckle. Doubled over, during sujood. Tears not merely from my eyes but from somewhere deeper, racking me raw because I am so humbled to be in His presence, Subhanallah.
My heart begs Him to guide me, to forgive me, to use me, to save me from myself and my own weakness.
Because I am oh so weak, and without His blessings, I am nothing.
“And how could we not place our trust in God, seeing that it is He who has shown us the path which we are to follow?’ ‘Hence, we shall certainly bear with patience whatever hurt you may do us: for, all who have trust [in His existence] must place their trust in God [alone]!’” [14:12]
It's a little frightening, writing so publically about religious faith, particularly to an Australian audience. We are not comfortable with it, and often I think that my secular friends are surprised by how much Islam means to me, particularly on a spiritual level.
Politics aside, Ramadan is fast approaching, and it is a time for reflection. It is time for that spiritual (and painful caffeine!) detox. It is a month to remind ourselves of our temporary nature, and what we are living for.
I have received an interesting email from a lovely researcher by the name of Maria who would like you to be involved in a project to support (!) Muslim women.
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Invitation to participate in a project to support Muslim women
If you are a Muslim woman between the ages of 18 and 35, you are invited to participate in an exciting new research project, Beyond hostility and fear: listening to Muslim girls and women.
The research is being conducted by Maria Delaney and Amanda Keddie from the University of Queensland.
We would like to share the stories of Muslim women and girls for an Anglo-Australian audience to dispel some of the ignorance in the Australian community about Islam.
We are sure you would agree that this is important research - Muslim women often bear the brunt of Islamophobia, their voices often silenced and their stories crucial to generating more peaceful relations. The research would involve an informal and friendly conversation about being a Muslim girl/woman in Australia.
It would highlight difficulties and problems but also hopes and opportunities. The stories might be funny stories... exasperating stories... disturbing stories... (We will provide some questions that might be a useful guide here).
We have had a lot of previous involvement with people from Muslim communities, so we believe that you would feel comfortable talking with us.
Also, your participation would be completely anonymous, so you can feel comfortable about sharing your stories.
If you would like to be involved, or if you have any questions, please contact Maria at delaneymt@gmail.com or 0423193935
I have no words. All I can say is that an organisation that I am closely affiliated with (as I serve on the Board of ChildFund Australia) is doing some fantastic work in the region and could use any support you want to give to the children in Nepal.
What happened?
In a nutshell, this is the worst earthquake to hit Nepal in 80 years (the last major earthquake was in 1934).
More than 3,200 people have been killed and over 6,500 injured, with the numbers continuing to climb
According to UNICEF, almost a million children have been severely affected
ChildFund has been working in Nepal for 20 years (through our sister organisation ChildFund Japan)
Our emergency response is focused on Sindhupalchok district, one of the worst-affected areas
Initial reports from our partner staff estimate 80 per cent of mud houses in the communities where we work have been destroyed – children and families are now staying outdoors in freezing temperatures and need immediate assistance
Our primary concern is for the care and protection of children affected by this terrible disaster
Our team on the ground is conducting a rapid assessment so that our response can get underway
ChildFund are continuing to post updates on social media and would appreciate you sharing the appeal link with your networks. Otherwise, there are a list of reputable places to send your $$ here.
There are an overwhelming number of disasters that are fighting for our attention in the news at the moment.
This is simply one...
Either way, don't let the tide of distress paralyse you from being able to interact with and support any of the movements or responses. Make sure you play your part - however small - in making this world a little safer, in whatever way you know how.
Hello there! Well it has been a while. I read once it was bad form to apologise for not having posted for some time, but I think in this case I feel like some sort of acknowledgment of my absence is warranted.
It has been a 'busy' few months, although I do dislike using the word 'busy'. Busy doesn't tell us very much, does it? It is like 'fine'; an empty word that describes the status quo and adds no real value to a sentence. It is there as a social nicety, which is something I suppose. 'What has been keeping you busy?' has been my go-to question of late, rather than 'what do you do?'. It makes for a more interesting conversation.
Occasionally, I include a twist and amend it with 'what has been keeping you busy mentally?'
In my case, it has been a couple of months of growing up. Mentally, I have been devoting a lot of time to issues around gender, access to opportunity and diversity across decision making places. I've also been thinking a lot about unconscious bias, how that plays a role in our society and how we can move past it...
Big issues, big questions. Too much for one blog post perhaps.
So instead, let me pepper you with some links to say hello again, and hopefully the next update will not be so far away.
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I was recently alerted to this wonderful website: 'Into the Middle of Things', where Australians from around the country are interviewed about their life. The first one I saw was below and it is a beautiful few minutes with Abe, a Sudanese-Brisbane lad:
Born in a Sudanese jail in the midst of a civil war, Abe escaped a possible future as a child soldier and managed to make it to Australia as a refugee with his seven brothers and sisters. The secret emotional and mental toll of this is still catching up with him today.
"I get asked a lot by reporters and tweeters why I am so invested in 'diversity' on television," Rhimes said, according to Medium's text of her speech. "'Why is it so important to have diversity on TV?' they say. I really hate the word 'diversity.' It suggests something other. ... As if there is something unusual about telling stories involving women and people of color and LGBTQ characters on TV."
Rhimes offered an alternative to the term "diversity," saying she'd rather describe what she's doing as "normalizing."
"I am making TV look like the world looks. Women, people of color, LGBTQ people equal way more than 50% of the population. Which means it ain't out of the ordinary. I am making the world of television look normal," she said.
Did n bit of a run down on various topics with the Triple J Hack crew for the Friday night Shake Up. What are your thoughts on some of these issues? Listen to the podcast here. Also did some radio in Arabic! Check it by clicking here.
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Loving this insta: Did I ever tell you I really used to love drawing cartoons?
150 flights, all over the world. Humbling, really.
All blurred into one long cassette tape of memory.
New people, new perspectives.
What did I learn?
I learnt that the older I get, the greyer things become.
That we cannot judge what is in another person's heart, and it is not our place to do so. What should be of concern with is getting our own heart in order. Controlling our reactions and responses to events is the only choice we have; a powerful choice and realisation.
I learnt silence is okay, and sometimes time-out is okay too, even though the adrenalin junkee inside may shout otherwise.
"GET UP!"
"Keep moving..."
"Keep doing..."
These things are important, for idleness can always been a poison.
However, thinking, real, deep, critical thinking doesn't happen when we're on the go. It didn't happen when I was binge watching The Good Wife or dancing in my bedroom when I got up in the morning.
It happens when I find silence and let my thoughts wander. When I choose to reflect consciously...
I realised my way of thinking is through writing. All the silence in the world is futile for my clarity without a way to record it, have it played back to me and be able to reflect on it again and again, until it makes some sense. The very act of writing, of seeing the words articulated on a page or screen gives them a legitimacy that the fleeting nature of my thoughts lack. The fact that I didn't write enough this year perhaps contributed to the feeling of not-being-present... and so I resolve to return to the habit of writing in 2015 inshallah.
Every new year brings the opportunity for reflection, refocus and recalibration of who we want to be and where we want to be at.
I cannot say with any certainty where I want to be at the end of this 365 day chapter inshallah.
What I do know is that I hope, with the grace of Allah, I find humility, the space to think and write critically, the ability to impact, influence and hopefully, inspire towards a world of greater equality of opportunity and diversity of voices in the public domain.
Who knows what 2015 brings. All we can try to do is be truly present for it.
Bless.
Salams,
PS.
Every year I start with a song. 2014 was started with Pharrell's Happy, before it got overplayed on the radio. This year, I chose Bluejuice's 'Work'.
A photo posted by Yassmin Abdel-Magied (@yassmin_a) on
The News
...the coolest kid/leader in town - President Barack Obama - was coming to visit my alma mater was everywhere. Fan girls and boys extolled their excitement with exclamation marks and witty status updates, an exuberance tempered only by the ire of the UQ (University of Queensland) students who realised that ‘day kids’ (students who didn’t stay at college) wouldn’t get a chance to attend. Understandably, it was an unpopular decision, to say the least. The news that only 40 or so students from every residential college was able to secure one of the sought after tickets rubbed a lot of people up the wrong way.
I have it on good authority that it was the University’s decision, and may have been due to the fact that they had to get RSVPs and confirmations with only a few days notice. The US Consulate/White House (as far as I have been led to believe) was keen to get as wide a demographic as possible but left it in the hands of the Universities and schools. Make of that what you will...
I was fortunate to snare a spot in the crowd, thank you US Consulate! Awkwardly though, I didn’t realise the tickets had to be picked up a couple of days before the event (at UQ!) until I was called up by the staff on the collection day! Sitting in my office in Perth, I scrambled to get a family member to pick up the invite for me. Predictably, no-one in my family picked up the phone! A friend came to my rescue and operation “Ticket Collection” was a success. (Shout out to my saviour Romy!)
I arrived in Brisbane on the morning of the event, rushing home from the airport with my little brother at the wheel and hurriedly deciding what to wear. It had to be comfortable, I thought, in order to be able to handle the incredibly sticky Brisbane heat. Not too crazy I told myself, but also with just enough ‘Yassmin-ness’ (read: flamboyance) to be appropriate. Smart Casual, the invite said, but since when did anyone pay attention to what the invite says? I went high waisted pants (*cough* cue *cough) and killer high heels (modest, of course!), so that I wasn’t just tall but towering. Ha, nothing like height to demand presence right?
Securing the Seat
Doors opened at 10.45am: I strolled in and secured a spot three rows from the front. I hadn't realised the President wasn't arriving for hours, so couldn't understand why the place wasn't immediately full. As I looked quizzically around the center, the guy next to me explained:
"Well, this is what happens when you rock up two hours early..."
Ah, indeed. Fortunately though, there was plenty of entertainment.
Politics of the young people in the crowd aside, the invite list was fascinating. Once the room began to fill up, there were a few hundred students in the risers complemented by hundreds of the men and women who help shape Australia. In the far right hand corner of the room sat the ‘heavy hitters’, and boy were there a few! Ex-Governor Generals, Premiers, former Premiers, business men and women and stalwarts of the Australian political scene. Wayne Swan, Qunnie Bryce, John Story, Sam Walsh, Bronwyn Bishop, Colin Barnett, Campbell Newman and Tanya Plibersek to name a few. It was daunting, but honestly? An awesome opportunity to make some new friends, I thought. The worst part was not recognising someone I really should have, particularly when they clearly think you know how important they are (sorry Colin Barnett). Something I am working on…
Funnily enough, one such 'High Net Worth Individual' commented on the number of heavy hitters in the room.
“The thing is,” he said. “I am not sure they are used to being made to wait!" …and yes, waiting is what they were doing.
Doors opened at 10.45am, but the President didn’t make his entrance until after 1pm. That is a lot of time for someone who deems their time critically important, but alas, if not for Obama, then who for?
The Entrance
The Vice Chancellor of UQ stood up to make a speech.
"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity... but I'm going to get off this stage because I know no-one is interested in what I have to say! I'm like the warm up act for the Rolling Stones!"
People chuckled, but it was true. There was a buzz in the air. Everyone was excited to be there, and even the loftiest figures a little bit groupie-like. The background music would occasionally fade out between songs, and every time there was a moment of silence, the room would instantly hush in anticipation. This is the moment, we were all be thinking, and then a note of the next song would ring out and the building erupt in (slightly nervous) laughter. The tension was palpable...
Then, the moment we had all been waiting for.
A booming voice over the loud speaker: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the President of the United States of America..." The rest of the statement was drowned out as everyone leapt to their feet, cameras in hand, half cheering, half taking selfies. It was a little bit hilarious...
(Obviously, I was not immune. Here is my video of the entrance...)
I am not a massive fan of Obama's policies, and anyone who has had a discussion with me knows my opinions on his legacy. That being said, there is no denying his power as an orator. He came out and instantly the masses swooned, laughing uproariously at his aussie jokes and comments about "Fawr X".
His charisma is undeniable, and he used it to good effect: starting out bolstering the Aussie pride and subtly reinforcing our status as allies.
"As the world's only super power..." he would say, a silent barb towards China.
"These are our choices, oppression or liberty."
The real clincher however, came after he mentioned Indonesia, Japan, South Korea and the Philippines. The real surprise was what dominated the headlines; Obama's commitment to an International Climate Fund, aiding developing countries tackle the effects of climate change.
This is a fascinating development, particularly as I am personally interested in the effects of energy poverty and the dilemma around setting up countries to gain equal access to clean, cheap and sustainable energy. More on this at a later date...
The Handshake
It happened like this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nopWOC4SRm4
(All jokes aside...)
Speech was made, and he moved to the side of the stage. We had no idea if he was going to meet anyone, but the moment he started descending via the stairs, the crowds surged towards the barricade. There must have been ten secret service / body guard guys on each side, warning people not to shove cameras in his face as he walked along the black fence and greeted individuals.
I was aided by my enormous heels and wide hips. As I swung my way to the front, a former colleague from the Queensland Museum smiled at me.
"Get in there Yas!"
I grinned back. Oh yes indeed!
As the President turned towards me, my mind raced. What do I say? This wasn't the time for a foreign policy barb I supposed...
The handshake was firm, and his eyes fixed on my face, seemingly like an uncle I hadn't seen in a while.
"Thank you sir" was all I managed.
"How are you," he said (I think. It is a bit of a blur). He looked right at me (slightly up, I was really tall), perhaps slightly surprised to see someone who looked like me in the Australian crowd.
"Good, thanks..."
The lack of inspiration in my answers is slightly embarrassing in hindsight, as was the fact that I didn't go for the fist bump instead.
Quick update: I'll be in Sydney this weekend!
There are a couple of cool things happening: for one, Youth Without Borders Sydney is catching up (click HERE for details). I'll also be taking part in the 3things event through the Changemakers Festival which should be quite awesome - come along on Sunday morning if you're free (details HERE).
I've also been honoured to be highlighted as part of birdee's Changemakers - the guys and gals are too kind!
I really enjoy good graffiti and have begun using Instagram to record some of what I see around the world. Tag me if you find some #graf you've enjoyed...
"A woman has been left traumatised after her head was smashed into the side of train carriage during an apparent racial attack in Melbourne's north.
The 26-year-old victim was on an Upfield line train outbound on Thursday night when she was approached by another woman, who began hurling abusive and racist remarks.
The woman grabbed the victim by the neck and hair, and forced her head into the wall of the carriage several times.
She then pushed the victim off the train as it rolled into Batman Station in Coburg North."
It cannot have come to this. We're so much better than this, really, we must be.
Yes, there are terrible things happening in the Middle East, but let that not destroy us from within.
I wish I could be witty and satirical at this point, but it would only serve to sound a little bit jaded. A fellow rig guy said to me once: "the things is, you can make a terrorist joke...but we don't know if you're kidding or not."
However, instead, I choose to focus on the fact that even though there is a lot of misinformation and hatred out there (which does not deserve traffic from my blog, no matter how meagre, so won't be linked!), there is also a lot of good.
The Dutch racing driver is set to become the youngest on the track during an F1 weekend, three days after his 17th birthday.
I guess there is nothing like some F1 familial pedigree to ensure your rear end gets a seat.
As much as I adore / love / live for Formula 1, there is no doubting the decadent and brazen level of nepotism and elitism that exists within its ranks.
The worst day in their football history, and for a nation that lives, eats and breathes football...
The World Cup has been a joy to watch this year, it really has. Games like Algeria versus South Korea, which on first glance didn't look like it would be a firecracker ended up in an amazing battle.
But this?
Seven goals conceded? One goal in the final minute to Brazil?
It was an actual mauling. A massacre on the pitch, a bloodletting.
The Germans, in their standard form, showed no mercy.
Klose cemented his place in history as the greatest world cup goal scorer.
The Brazilians faced the most painful few minutes when 4 goals were scored in less than 7 minutes.
How does a team come back from this?
The last Brazilian team to lose on this scale (to Uruguay in 1950) said they were treated like they committed the worst kind of crime.
This is literally unbelievable.
Well, we can say with certainly - Neymar was missed...
This is a piece contributed to a wonderful website Sajjeling - check it out! It's a great collection of Australian-Arab narratives and I am honoured to be a part of it...
“The thing about football – the important thing about football – is that it is not just about football.” – Terry Pratchett
My friend shook his head after listening to me wail about the crushing, humiliating defeat of La Furia Roja, the Spaniards, at the hands of ‘Clockwork Orange’, the Dutch.“I don’t understand! How can you care so much when you’re not even Spanish?”
“Explain to me why it means so much? How can it matter so much to you when there is no link between you and the country at all?”
I sighed. How to explain the love of football, especially that of the World Cup?
I can’t pinpoint exactly where my love of the World Game begun. My earliest memory is that of the 1994 games. Although I don’t remember the details, I do recall being left in front of the TV with instructions to call my dad over whenever a goal was scored. Given that I was only three, I wasn’t sure what a goal was exactly but I made a deduction that it had something to do with the reactions of people in the stand. So, anytime the stadium cheered I would rush to get my father, guessing something important had happened. Looking back, I am not sure my father thought the strategy was as impressive as I thought it was.
The following world cup – France 1998 – was celebrated with the purchase of a new set of pyjamas that was blue with soccer balls all over it. Unfortunately, there were no sets of soccer pyjamas for girls; my mother bought me a boys’ set. This was fine, except no one wanted to explain to me why there was an extra hole in the front of the pants…
My obsession after that only grew, despite the fact that everyone else in my family only cared slightly. I stuck posters with match timetable and draw on the lounge room walls. I made scrapbooks for the tournament, writing little notes about each match and cutting out all the pictures from the paper, decimating my father’s newspaper-reading ritual in the process.
In 2006, I watched every single game until my mother banned me for a night and demanded that I go to bed. Apparently a straight week without sleep was enough to make my mood positively dangerous, particularly when my team was floundering. 2010 brought the World Game to my screen right in the middle of my most difficult university exam period, and perhaps may explain the grades I received that semester. 2014, even with a full time job and despicable game times in Australia, has been no different.
The question, however, remains. Why, as my friend asked, do I care so much when Australia always does poorly and my land of birth, Sudan, has never made an appearance? Why do I feel so impassioned about the fate of a team when, ultimately, it has no bearing on me?
I am no footballer – anyone who has seen me with a ball at my feet will confirm that – so it has nothing to do with being inspired to play better. And in the weeks of the World Cup, it is much more than ‘just a sport’ for billions of people around the world including me. Football, it seems, has its own type of magic.
It is the most popular game in the world, played on streets in every nation. It requires no gear apart from an object that is roughly round (in Sudan we used balls made out of old socks) and markings in the ground to delineate a goal. Money, pedigree and social standing have no bearing on your ability to be a great player and perhaps even make a name for yourself. It is simple to understand, and its barrier to entry is extremely low. Anyone can play and be a part of the beauty of this game.
This game is so much more than statistics. Football is ultimately about humanity.
The World Cup is a tournament that brings grown men to tears, changes the lives of rookie players and inspires generations of children to do something great. Some countries grind to a halt to watch the games. The green is a battlefield where literally anything can happen – great teams kicked out at the group stages, underdogs (like Greece and Costa Rica this year) making it further than anyone thought they could goalies and strikers alike making the impossible real. Goals can be scored right up until the last second, changing fates and creating heroes. Infamous moments are revisited for decades; Madonna’s hand of God, Zidane’s headbutt, that-one-English-win-in-1966.
Football is the great equaliser.
Yet, the World Cup is also a tournament that unites in defeat. 31 of the 32 teams that travel to Brazil this year will experience it in some form, whether it is crushing, like that of Spain, or hopeful, like Australia’s defeat against the Dutch. If there is one emotion we can all share, it is the commonality of World Cup heartbreak.
That’s what it’s about, right? At the end of the day, football and the World Cup are about collective emotion and teams that are vessels for the hopes and dreams of nations. The beauty of this game beyond the field is that it expresses an emotion shared right around the world. It allows us, no matter our heritage, to feel part of something huge, and taps into the reptilian part of our brain that wants to belong, to have a tribe. The World Cup makes us all one people
Scottish footballer and former manager of English club Liverpool, Bill Shankly, said it all for me.
“Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”
My mornings have been drenched with the muted cheers of stadiums and my own shrieks at near misses or triumphs. Football (spectating) is something that is in my blood, along with millions of others around the world, and this month provides the ultimate in that pleasure.
The morning's defeat - Mexico at the hands of the Dutch - was heart wrenching: the Mexicans scoring early in the second half and then falling back, providing Clockwork Orange with the chance to push and keep pushing until a very late equaliser and extra time penalty. Like every match going forward, the looks of utter defeat on the faces of the Mexicans hearts the hurt...
In the spirit of the universality of football though, here is a wicked video for your morning :)
A great big thanks to Catherine Fox and "In the Black" for including me as part of the 2014 Young Business Leader's list.
It's an absolute honour, and an interesting branch into a world I had never really considered myself a part of before: Business.
Check out the write up here. While you're there, read up on the other leaders! Everyone is doing something absolutely amazing and inspiring...
[While I'm here, shout out to my folks and the mentors who have helped me along the way! Honestly if it wasn't for their encouragement and support, I wouldn't be at full, I'd be at no throttle at all].
An excerpt:
Still in her early 20s, Abdel-Magied says the best advice she’s been given is to be adaptable, and to use the leverage you have. A young Muslim girl interested in working in the community and with an engineering background is an unusual combination, she admits, but it means people listen.
“I’ve always looked at the opportunities that have come my way and had a goal – but don’t let that blind you to other avenues. The job that I’m in now, it was almost a whim that led me to apply to work on a rig and led me onto a new path. And you need to ask all the silly questions when you are in the early part of your career before you are seen as ‘the expert’.’’
Subhanallah, another year has past.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, was it.
