No Pink Ribbon For Me

By Camila Sayf

I have a scar. It itches, aches, feels uncomfortable to a touch though it's been already five years. The tissue underneath the scar is numb & hollow. To get this scar is not easy. You actually need to go through a lot of pain, agony, frustration, disbelief, loss of personal integrity & humiliation of your own soul. One day my scar wispers to me - hey, look at ya, ya'r still here! On another day my scar would shout - don't you get it? YOU'RE ALIVE! And the other day it went on screaming - YOU LIVE, DAMN IT, DO SOMETHING USEFUL!

I learned to live with my scar. It still hurts, especially when the weather changes or when a sudden cold wind blows. Or when my hormons give me a kick. Then I can't sleep on my right side - my scar is there & it takes advantage of my body on those lovely days of the month.

When I went in to get that scar, I remember, it was cold & they gave me an extra blanket. They wore green robes & masks. But I saw one, who took her mask off & then put it back. Beautiful smiling Irish face, she told me that my scar is on his way & we gonna be just fine. I have a flash-back, my GP calling me & telling me to sit down...Mammos came in, something strange, looks like calcifications, lots of them, but they couldn't get a clearer picture. They want them removed. I am concerned. I have a good reason for being that way. My dearest friend, my mom, had been tried with a stage two. She has a scar now. And she has a wig somewhere in her closet - a small reminder of her big ordeal. Well, my masks were concerned too. Remember that - truth is out there..somewhere? So they went in to search for that little personal truth of mine. Bye-bye, sweety pie, mommy will be right back! She couldn't walk back then, she crawled at my cart right before they were about to pull me through the doorway. Kisses, hugs...I love you, sweet heart! And you, my brave man, I LOVE YOU TOO!!!

We don't say those words much in our daily life. It's a shame we don't. And now I have a scar to remind me about it. When it hurts, aches, feels sore, I know - it's time to give my love to people who love me.

My scar is pink. Like that ribbon, so beautifully folded. I wear that pink ribbon for my dearest friend, my mom. I wear that ribbon for my sisters around the world who went through this devastating life exam. I wear that ribbon for those who do not know about the pain it takes to get those scars. All over the world. But I do not wear that ribbon for me. Because I do not have a breast cancer...

...instead I wear my pink scar, my Brave Heart Medal, the reminder of the deep gratitude I feel for being here, for being who I am, for not losing it when I was tried, for having a moment of silence for the victims & for holding the pink banner for all breast cancer survivors.

AMERICAN ISLAMIC FELLOWSHIP

By Melissa Robinson

ATLANTA -- Four years ago, while studying French, Italian and women’s studies as an undergraduate at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, I accepted Islam by taking “shahada,” or the declaration of faith, during Ramadan, proclaiming that there is one God and Mohammad was a prophet of God. I had spent three years studying various religions and belief systems before taking this important step in my spiritual journey. I was moved by Sufi poets and the beauty of a faith that allowed for pluralism. I enjoyed the sense of unity that came with performing rituals alongside other Muslims. I was thrilled to discover a belief system that was not at odds with scientific knowledge. The Islam I came to know allowed for diversity in interpretation and encouraged the pursuit of knowledge and critical thinking. I have grown so much in my faith since that time and am proud to call myself Muslim.

Earlier this year, I moved to Atlanta with my husband and was excited to visit the various mosques in the area. I had hoped to find a supportive and open-minded community in which I would feel at home. However, like everywhere else, it seemed the extremists were always the loudest and carried most of the weight. It did not bode well that every mosque I visited practiced strict gender segregation. As a feminist with a minor in women’s studies, I have never found this sort of restriction necessary or beneficial. During a study circle called a ‘halaqa’, at a mosque in north Atlanta I was told music was ‘haram,’ or forbidden. As a fan of bluegrass, classic rock, reggae, hip-hop, jazz, folk, pop, opera and just about any other musical style, I found this edict impossible to swallow.

I was also told that because Arabic is not my native language, I was not qualified to interpret religious text. Finally, on one of the holiest days of the Islamic calendar, Eid al-Fitr, the day celebrating the end of the month-long fast during Ramadan, my good friend, Kelly Wentworth attended the congregational prayer at of one of the largest mosques in Atlanta. The sermon vilified the ‘West.’ The imam, or religious leader, told the congregation that Islam is incompatible with ‘Western’ values, and the ‘West’ is a corruption. My friend returned home that night incensed. After all, she and I are the 'West' and were inspired by our 'Western' ideas to choose Islam. In all of my studies, Islam was the one faith most compatible with so-called ‘Western’ thought. It is because I live in the ‘West’ that I have the freedom to practice Islam. I do not feel the need to choose between my spiritual path and 'Western' values. Both Islam and the 'West' are integral parts of who I am. Needless to say, I was disappointed and frustrated.

Reflections on “Engaging Islam…”

By Juliet Gentile-Koren

Islam has been defined by some as ‘engaged surrender,’ an active definition which points to the way which one approaches submission to divine reality, to the practice of the din or religion of Islam. Perhaps no time is this vigor more apparent than during the month of Ramadan. This past Ramadan I attended a conference entitled: “Engaging Islam: Feminisms, Religiosity and Self-Determinations,” at the University of Massachusetts in Boston. This conference consisted of a five day submersion within an environment of listening and learning about Islam as a religion, a social code, a mode of governance and law. What emerged from this experiment was a picture of an Islamic religion which contains a multitude of perspectives, inspirations and judgments. As one of the guiding principles of the conference, scholars brought the rigorous interrogation characteristic of feminist critique to every topic, most especially towards a definition of Islamic feminism.

Reflections on “Engaging” Islam…

Islam has been defined by some as “engaged surrender,” (Wadud, p. 19) an active definition which points to the way which one approaches submission to divine reality, to the practice of the din or religion of Islam. Perhaps no time is this vigor more apparent than during the month of Ramadan. This Ramadan I attended a conference entitled: “Engaging Islam: Feminisms, Religiosity and Self-Determinations,” at the University of Massachusetts in Boston. This conference consisted of a five day submersion within an environment of listening and learning about Islam as a religion, a social code, a mode of governance and law. What emerged from this experiment was a picture of an Islamic religion which contains a multitude of perspectives, inspirations and judgments. As one of the guiding principles of the conference presenting scholars brought the rigorous interrogation characteristic of feminist critique to every topic, most especially towards a definition of Islamic feminism.

Culture & Religion: Fusion or Confusion?

By Dilara Hafiz

America has often been referred to as a ‘melting pot’, however, more recently the media seems to prefer the term ‘salad bowl’. A ‘salad bowl’ implies a mixture of strong, individual flavors which somehow blend harmoniously together into a successful end result. How appropriate is this analogy when applied to the American Muslim community which itself is made up of people from different cultures, ethnicities, and varying Islamic practices? More importantly, how do American Muslims define themselves – by their culture, their religion, or a blend of both identities?

EID MUBARAK! HAPPY EID!

THE CASE OF KHALED MUDALLAL

Khaled Al- Mudallal is one of hundreds of students trapped in Gaza and at risk of losing his place at university. The Let Khaled Study Campaign, www.letkhaledstudy.co.uk is picking up momentum at his university in the UK. His cause is also being taken up Birzeit University's Right To Education Campaign and News Center in Palestine. Below is the center's press release and a personal letter from Kahled Mudallal about his situation:

Khaled is a Palestinian and a Business and Management student at the University of Bradford. He is currently trapped in Gaza due to the restrictions on freedom of movement imposed by Israel. Khaled needs to return to Bradford urgently to begin the third year of his degree course.

Khaled returned to his hometown of Rafah in June with the intention of staying only for a few days. He has a British residence permit valid until November 2010.

According to Israeli human rights organization Gisha, Khaled is one of several hundred Palestinian students who are being prevented from leaving Gaza to return to courses abroad. Gisha believes the Israeli government is in breach of international law. The right to education is enshrined in the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

The NUS Black Students' Campaign, University of Bradford Students' Union, General Union of Palestinian Students, University and College Union, Federation of Student Islamic Societies and the Palestine Solidarity Campaign are calling on all students in Britain to support Khaled's right to continue his education and the right of all Palestinian students to access education free from the restrictions imposed by Israel's illegal occupation.

What you can do:

* Print and collect signatures for the petition and encourage others to do the same - the petitions will be sent to the British and the Israeli Prime Ministers.

* Write to the Israeli Prime Minister calling for the travel restrictions imposed on Gaza to be lifted and for Khaled to be allowed to leave to return to Bradford.

* Write to the British Prime Minister Gordon Brown calling on him to bring pressure to bear on his Israeli counterpart to lift the restrictions on students from Gaza, including Khaled, leaving Gaza to access education.

* Contact student media to try to get articles published raising awareness of Khaled's situation and the plight of Palestinian students living under Israel's illegal occupation.

Ramadan 2007: A Tribute for Ghandi's Peace Movement

By: Moulana Habeeb

It's our dear Mahatma's anniversary- 138th and our reflections rest with His Excellence's struggle for peace. More so, now being Ramadan, we tend to be more peaceful and calm. One person recently said to me that this fasting should be embraced by UN in order for humanity to return to their roots of community living and empathising with the lesser fortunate. It's a shame that wars are still ravishing human souls and plucking young trees off the farm of family life. Ramadan 2007 is like a tribute for Ghandi's peace movement.

Ghandi opposed such constant engagement of violence, witnessed senselessly around most circles these days, and even for justifiable reasons and instead showed us that an non-violent approach or Satyagrah can achieve more that anything aggressive ever could. We are advised during fasting that if someone says something ignorant or wishes to pick a fight, we're to simply say I'm fasting as a reminder, for both victim and perpetrator.

That the respect of the soul necessitates avoidance of hurting others.

A FAST FIT FOR A KING

by Rabbi Allen S. Maller

Once upon a time a king went out to hunt on a very warm day in the Fall of 2007*. After a few hours he felt very hot and tired, so he decided to stop for lunch. His servants unpacked a large picnic basket they had brought with them and set up a table.

Now the king didn’t want to eat together with his servants, nor did he want to eat alone. The king told one of his servants to find someone to come and eat lunch with the king. The servant walked to a nearby road, saw two 13-year-old boys walking along, and told them that the king wanted to see them.

The boys were very surprised, and a little frightened, but they went with the king’s servant. When they arrived at the picnic, the table was set with all kinds of wonderful foods and drinks. The king told the boys to sit down next to him and eat. The boys sat down next to the king, but they did not eat.

After a few minutes the king said, “Why are you not eating? My food is prepared by the best cook in the kingdom. It is the best tasting food in the country. Doesn’t it look good to you”

“It looks great, and I am sure it is the best food I will ever taste,” answered one boy, “but I can’t eat it.”

“Did you just finish eating lunch? If so you do not have to eat a whole meal, just have some of these great deserts” said the king.

The other boy replied, “Actually we did not eat lunch today, but we cannot eat anything, not even one of those really good looking chocolate covered candies.”

The king was surprised and asked, “Are you sick? Is that why you have lost your appetite?”

“No,” said the boys, “We are not sick and we haven’t lost our appetites.”

“Then why are you not hungry?” asked the king.

“But we are hungry” said one boy, and his friend added, “Neither of us ate lunch, and I did not eat breakfast. We are very, very hungry.”

The king looked bewildered and shouted, “Then why don’t you eat since both of you are hungry and the food is delicious?”

“Because this month is Ramadan and I am a Muslim” said one boy. The other boy nodded and said, “And today is Yom Kippur and I am Jewish.”

The king was astonished and said, “Why shouldn’t you enjoy yourselves? This is the best tasting food you will ever eat and you are hungry.”

“That is true, but that makes it even more important for us to fast,” answered the boys. “It is easy not to eat food you do not like. The test of a person’s self-control is best when the temptation is greatest.”

“Do you think God cares if you eat or not? Go ahead and eat, I will not tell anyone, especially your parents.”

Both boys said, “No thanks. Even if you don’t tell anyone else, we will know that we failed to live up to our religious duties to God.”

The king thought for a moment and then asked the Muslim boy why the Muslim God made Muslims fast for a whole month while the Jewish God only required one day of fasting.

RAMADAN IN THE HEARTLAND

The Detroit suburb of Dearborn is where the Midwest meets the flavors of the Mideast.

By Alia Yunis

For most Americans, Detroit conjures up images of cars, the Motown sound, and perhaps even 8-Mile. If you�re an Arab-American, it also means the best place this side of Beirut for decent baklava. Considered by some estimates to be the largest Arab city outside of the Middle East, Detroit has been the Ellis Island of the Midwest for Arab Americans for nearly a century, ever since the first wave of Arabs, both Christian and Muslim, arrived here in the early 1900s to work on Henry Ford�s assembly line. They came from across the Middle East, from Yemen to Syria and Eygpt, and each ensuing Middle East crisis has brought a new wave, the largest number being from Lebanon and the latest from Iraq, a steady stream that began with the 1991 Gulf War.

No where in Detroit is the Arab American presence more obvious than Dearborn, an inner suburb strung together by strip malls and fast food chains and anchored by the famed Ford River Rouge Plant, a National Historic Landmark that by the mid-1920s was the largest manufacturing complex in the world. Arabic calligraphy forms the signs on many of Dearborn�s stores, Middle Eastern pop music booms from the car stereos of teenagers cruising the main drags of Warren Avenue and Schaefer Road, and the local MacDonald�s proudly serves halal Chicken McNuggets, i.e. chicken slaughtered by merciful Islamic law before it is compressed, molded, and shipped here.

Generations of Arab Americans have come to Dearborn to shop at its grocery stores, buy sweets at its bakeries, and dine in its many restaurants. At no time of the year is this more apparent than during Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting, the month I arrived to this city that as an Arab-American I had heard about since childhood.

While I am someone who questions religion more than practices it, I do know the basic pillars of Islam, and fasting is one of them: so they understand sacrifice and empathize with the poor and hungry, Muslims cannot eat or drink from sunrise to sunset during the entire month of Ramadan. However, what I didn�t know was how this was observed in an American neighborhood that has more Arabs than most villages in the Middle East. The person who helped me map that all out was my friend Rana Abbas, a 23-year old, cherub-faced Dearborn native whom you can�t help but describe as bubbly and vivacious.

�Detroit is a big city, you know, but when it comes to the Arabs it�s a small town,� she said with her distinctly Michigan inflection as she highlighted the key shops of Dearborn on a map. �Everyone knows everyone�s business, even if you don�t want to.�