The Heart Team

by Sameera Qureshi

originally published on http://muslimsistah-sq.blogspot.com/

I have a secret to tell.

It’s the grand-daddy of all secrets when it comes to Muslim women during Ramadan. Oh yes fellow sistahs, you know what I’m talking about. You think you can get around people knowing by faking the fast but no, you can’t and you shouldn’t. It’s high time that we educate those around us about the nitty-gritty of fasting permissibility when it comes to women.

And here’s the (not-dirty-at-all) secret…women who are menstruating are excused from fasting. I bet y’all didn’t know that! And it doesn’t surprise me, considering how even within Muslim families, us females are so ashamed of anyone knowing that we can officially take a “break” (missed fasts need to be made up after Ramadan) from fasting, and guilt-free while we’re at it. God is ever so Merciful!

There’s a few reasons why I want to blog about this topic. First of all, no one else is or has, that I know of. I haven’t come across any recent non-Fiqh (religious rules, basically) related blog regarding women, menstruation and Ramadan. Since you all know me so well, I thought it was high time we talk about a natural process that close to 500 million of us Muslim women species go through during Ramadan. Second, I have mixed feelings when it comes to taking a break from fasting. Even though it’s obligatory, and there are times when I’m relieved to get a break, it also throws your fasting routine and rhythm out the window and you also can’t participate in any prayers, which can be tough. So I’ll elaborate on this point. The third reason is because I do not want this generation of young women and the ones to follow to be ashamed of something that is God given and natural. No more fake fasting, no more fake Suhoor (pre-dawn) meals and no more shame. Enough is enough when it comes to this miracle of life that women have been given.

Back to the first point. I have been around non-Muslim friends during Ramadan in the past and when they apologize for eating in front of me during our meet-ups, I have to be honest and tell them I’m not fasting. There’s no way I want them to experience guilt or awkwardness around me when they have no reason to. And I’m not going to lie and say “yeah, it’s really tough this year so I’m taking a break,” because this is not true. And so I tell them the truth. The same goes for close Muslim friends if we’re with each other during community Iftar (breaking the fast) gatherings. If a woman invites me to pray, I tell her I can’t, and I’m sure she understands why! Perhaps try to make a joke out of it and say something like “my uterus won’t let me fast!” (here’s hoping that women know what a uterus is, you’d be surprised). I think most Muslim men (I would hope) know why some women during communal gatherings opt out of prayer…but then, I could be wrong. At least the married men should know. But I think us women need to have less shame around this. If you can’t fast and pray, then you can’t and there’s nothing wrong with it. It shouldn’t stop you from participating in community Iftars and the like. In fact, being in community gatherings during your menstrual cycle will at least give you a sense of Ramadan rather than being holed up at home, watching your family or spouse eat their Iftar meal while you sit and watch them, jealously.

Second, I personally have mixed feelings when it comes to ceasing the fast during this active uterus time. This can be true if you can’t start Ramadan because you’re menstruating, or you have to stop after you’ve fasted and established a routine over a period of time (no pun intended), or the worse case (in my humble opinion) is when you miss fasting the last 10 days (the holiest days) and also when you can’t participate in Eid prayer. This has happened to me before and I was a nutcase. I understand I can’t really control my cycle, but seriously, whenever it happens, I’m in denial and it takes me a while to accept that I will need to sit on the sidelines for a while. Islam still encourages women to be active participants in Ramadan without fasting, such as by preparing meals for those who are fasting, reciting Dua’a (prayers) during the day without actually praying on a prayer mat (which isn’t allowed during a woman’s cycle), giving to charity, performing good deeds, etc. We are blessed to have many additional options apart from abstaining from food, so at least we don’t completely feel left out. But it is challenging to take a break since once you’re in the flow of things (again, no pun intended), you don’t want to stop and have to start the acclimatization to fasting all over again. Boo.

And third, there is too much shame around menstruation, regardless of what time of the year it is. I remember when I lived at home prior to marriage, I use to get up and fake the morning meal so my brothers and dad wouldn’t know that I wasn’t fasting. Then my mom would sneak food into my bedroom, where I’d shamefully eat my PB and J sandwich, ensuring no one could hear or see me. Then I’d have to eat the Iftar meal with everyone else, and have the same late bedtime as everyone. After a while, this became incredibly annoying and also, deceitful. Women are given this time to take a break and rest, and here we go taking religion’s permission, adding a dash of cultural backwardness and shame to it, and we’ve got one heck of a messed up situation that is incredibly frustrating to deal with. When I was teaching sexual health classes to middle school girls this year, this topic came up numerous times: girls having to fake prayers all year round and fasting during Ramadan. They expressed frustration and weren’t sure why they needed to since they were sure their dads at least knew about menstruation (since sexual intercourse is forbidden during this time, I would sure hope so). I felt their pain and offered them advice to talk with their parents about this issue, to save them from faking religious practices they shouldn’t have to.

Finally, while we’re on the topic of Ramadan and menstruation, I really encourage all women to look into more sustainable and environmentally friendly ways of dealing with their cycle. Sure, disposable feminine hygiene products may seem convenient, not-so-expensive (they actually are when you do the math for a year of products) and all that is available, but I assure you, we have come a long way and there’s a myriad of additional options. If sanitary pads are more of your thing, check out Lunapads (made in Canada) or Party in my Pants for cloth options (before you judge, do your research!). If you’re looking for a tampon-alternative, check out the Diva Cup, which also belongs to Lunapads. These may seem like “hippie” alternatives that won’t work for you, but I assure you, they are healthier ways to deal with your period (look up all the toxic chemicals in disposable pads and tampons) AND save the environment at the same time. That’s what part of Ramadan is about anyway, isn’t it?

See, reading this wasn’t so bad, was it? Whether you’re a male or female, I’m sure you learned something new, no? And then there’s many of you out there who probably knew all of this. You sexual health keeners you! Either way, this is another topic where there’s a difference between modesty and shame. It’s OK to tell family members and those you need to if you’re not fasting, in a discrete way. But there’s no reason to be shameful about it, and using a ruse to fake the fast and daily prayers for those around you.

So embrace menstruation during this month, fellow women, and stick with what Islam advises around this subject. Remember that God has ordained this miracle of life within our bodies. How can something God given be shameful?

After all, when we treat menstruation as something shameful and wrong, it can really be a pain in the uterus.

Sorry, I really had to try for one final pun 🙂

Sameera Qureshi, MScOT (c) is an Occupational Therapist and currently manages a mental health promotion project that is school and community based, in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.  Her work over the past six years has been primarily with Muslim populated schools and their families. Since 2011, Sameera has been working to implement Islam-oriented sexual health education programs both within these schools and the greater Muslim community. Her work includes developing the curriculum for both genders and teaching the curriculum to girls in grades 5-9, running parent sessions, collaborating with multiple Calgary agencies around sexual health, and making her work available to interested community member and professionals. She also maintains a blog called Muslim Sistah and can be found on Twitter @muslimsistah 

By Kristina Friedlander

originally published in barakabirth.com

If it were not for God’s beautiful veiling, if it were not for God covering you beautifully, no deed you do would be worthy of acceptance.

Hikam 131 of Ibn Ata’illah

As Muslims we’re encouraged to have the right amount of shyness, or haya. Haya is a desirable trait, but a quick search will reveal that haya is frequently translated as “shame.” Shame is a fraught term, associated with dishonor and disgrace, of doing something wrong. When thinking about bodies, modesty, and haya, what becomes problematic for me is the notion that our bodies should be covered because they are shameful. Shame, to me, has more to do with humiliation and judgment than, for example, embarrassment. We are embarrassed or feel guilty when we have done something wrong or bad–however defined–but we are ashamed when we judge that what we have done makes us wrong or bad, or is a reflection of our wrongness or badness.

With few exceptions, we humans wear clothing. But the parts of our bodies that we cover vary from culture to culture and even within cultures. As Muslim women and men, we cover (to varying degrees) parts of our bodies but we also cover private spaces within the home and even spaces of increasing privacy as one moves through the home, such as bedrooms. We also think of covering as pertaining metaphorically to deeds–we hope that our bad deeds will remain covered, and consider it laudable when one Muslim ‘covers’ the bad deeds of another by not talking about them. It also applies to good deeds, as in giving charity anonymously. Spouses are referred to as ‘garments’ in the Qur’an, covering one another, providing a sense of mutual comfort and safety.

But does Islam mandate that we cover our bodies because our bodies are themselves a material source of shame? To what extent does the religious tradition deviate from cultural understandings of the body as shameful, especially women’s bodies? How do notions of purity and impurity with regard to what comes out of bodies influence perceptions of the places where they exit? How do certain deeply-rooted western discourses of the shamefulness of women’s bodies influence our understandings in ways that are actually contradictory to our faith tradition (though perhaps not cultural traditions)? And how do Muslims’ cultural lenses teach men and women that their bodies are shameful or disgusting?

Our bodies are not “bad.” We are absolutely meant to celebrate our bodies in the spaces that we define as comfortable, private, and safe, and Islamic mores encourage spouses to mutually enjoy one another’s bodies. I suggest that covering our bodies is not about shame, but rather serves a way that we set and protect our boundaries in public spaces. By covering my body—which in my case includes my arms, legs, and hair—I set boundaries that are informed by what I feel comfortable and safe with but also by my understanding of religious law as it applies directly to me. For me, modesty is the embodied practice of deciding which parts of my body and which behaviors are meant for public spaces and which for private, decisions which draw on my faith, and has nothing to do with any part of me being bad or shameful. In fact, I prefer to go with Dr. Umar Faruq Abd-Allah’s translation of haya as the earnest desire to do what is right.

A major challenge today, and not just for Muslim women but for all women, is to explore, question, and challenge discourses that promote our bodies as inherently shameful or dirty. This isn’t just a philosophical or even a feminist project but a human rights necessity; in so many places around the world (including the United States) bodily shame is an impediment to women’s access of health care resources. It can also be a major obstacle to a healthy and satisfying sex life, as Nadiah Mohajir pointed out in a recent blog post on vaginismus.

For Muslims, having a clear understanding of the vocabulary which is used to describe bodies and how we should feel about our bodies–and especially where Arabic terms and their English translations carry different implications–is a critical component of this process. A deeper exploration of Islamic conceptions of what it means to have a body and of our sexuality, including ideas of pleasure and ideas of emotional safety, are so important. Men need to be involved in this process as well, questioning their own assumptions and exploring what marriage, partnership, emotional safety, and pleasure mean to them. Thankfully, we have a great deal of material within the Islamic text and tradition itself to stimulate discussion and to question our cultural understandings of shame, as long as we can overcome the cultural beliefs that these discussions are in themselves shameful.

Krystina Friedlander is a professional childbirth doula and works at the Harvard Divinity School in Cambridge, Massachusetts. She also serves on the Health Committee at the Islamic Society of Boston Cultural Center. She regularly blogs at http://barakabirth.com/

by Nadiah Mohajir

In the short four years HEART has been working to raise awareness about the importance of reproductive health education in the Muslim community, too many young women have confided in me – both personally and professionally – about intimacy issues in their marriages. Many have shared with me their struggles to embrace their sexuality and sexual desire, while others have struggled with having little knowledge of their bodies. What is becoming increasingly common but still remains unheard of are the stories of those women who can’t consummate their marriages – many days, months, even years go by, as the couple remains unable to have intercourse. While it may seem shocking or unimaginable to some, the situation is unfortunately far too common, and there are numerous reasons for why this part of their marriage is not being fulfilled, including, but not limited to:

• lack of knowledge about one’s body
• unhealthy attitudes and feelings of intense shame and guilt related to sexuality
• past history of sexual abuse or sexual trauma,
• pornography addiction, and
• a physiological and psychological condition called vaginsimus, among other sexual dysfunction conditions.

Vaginismus is the condition that affects a woman’s ability to engage in any form of vaginal penetration, including sexual intercourse, insertion of tampons and/or menstrual cups and the penetration involved in gynecological exams. While the causes of this condition are not fully understood, “it is usually associated with anxiety and fear of having sex….though it is unclear whether the anxiety is a cause or a consequence of the condition.” Primary vaginismus can occur when a woman has never been able to have sexual intercourse while secondary vaginismus can occur later in life, due to childbirth or a traumatic event. Numerous factors can contribute to vaginismus, such as sexual abuse and rape, urinary tract and yeast infections, anxiety or stress, and general domestic violence or witnessing domestic violence. The condition is highly treatable and full recovery is possible, with the assistance of treatment including physical therapy and psychological therapy.

This brave woman, Tasniya, a Muslim American, has come forward and shared her story of identifying and addressing vaginismus in her marriage. (youtube link below) She struggled for many years before she successfully found help at the Women’s Therapy Center in New York. Here is her story, and you will see that there are many similar stories and testimonials in the Women’s Therapy Center’s youtube channel. What is most interesting is upon initial review of the various stories, there are numerous themes that are present, despite the race/religion of these women, such as,

• all the women were virgins when they married. In other words, they came from communities and families that valued abstinence and therefore had very little, if not at all, sexual experience when they got married. Many of the husbands were also virgins or had little sexual experience.
• they did not know who to reach out to for help because no one understood and they feared stigma and social isolation
• they also believed they were the “only ones” having such experiences, and that no one would understand them.
• they did not have pleasant experiences with tampons and ob/gyn visits, which could have alerted them of future intimacy issues
• there was much guilt and shame associated with having the condition
• the physical therapy and mental health therapy required involvement on both spouse’s parts, not just the wife seeking treatment

There are many important lessons to be learned from Tasniya’s story, including the following:

1) Parents must help their child(ren) understand their bodies from an early age. Tasniya attributes many of her anxieties and discomfort to not knowing the basic anatomy of her body and not having had those conversations with the adults in her family. She stresses that education and awareness is the first step to developing a healthy attitude towards one’s body and sexuality.

2) Most women do not come forward because they do not know where to seek help and fear being  judged. When asked about why young women don’t come forward and seek help, the responses are the same, across culture and other demographic characteristics: no one knows this exists, and often people respond with much disbelief and judgment. As one woman said “When someone asks you about how your marriage is going, you can’t exactly just come out and say that you can’t have sex. People don’t even know this condition exists, let alone how to respond to it.”

3) There are certain things we can avoid as a community to create safer, more respectful spaces. When a couple is struggling with something as serious as vaginismus, there are certain questions that can have a tremendous impact on one’s self-worth and mental well-being. The first, as Tasniya explains in her story, is the question that many people love to ask newly weds (and not so newly-weds): when will you have children? This question can be highly disturbing to one struggling with vaginismus, as it is extremely frustrating to not be able co have intercourse, therefore making the prospect of having children impossible. The second question is when people respond in disbelief – asking if such a condition is even real, and not self-imposed. “That’s like asking if the cancer that someone has is real,” Tasniya explains.

4) Imams, other leaders of religious and cultural institutions, and medical professionals need to be aware that vaginismus exists and where to send couples for help and resources. Tasniya explains how she sought the counsel of several imams, counselors and doctors without any luck. Awareness trainings are essential for those in leadership positions in the religious and cultural communities so that they can be properly equipped to counsel a married couple who may seek guidance. On the flip side, cultural competency trainings are essential for medical professionals and mental health professionals so that they have a comprehensive understanding of the cultural nuance and attitudes toward sexuality and marriage in the Muslim community and how that may influence the ability to have healthy sexual lives.

5) It is essential to instill a healthy, positive sexuality in our youth to prepare them for when they are in sexual relationships. Tasniya explains how she was never taught that Islam is a sex positive religion, and that sex is seen as a pleasurable and desirable act, within the framework of marriage. She explained how instead, she viewed sex and sexuality as dirty, shameful, and embarrassing, and she always associated pain and disgust with intercourse, which ultimately led to her inability to consummate her marriage. To read more about how to instill a healthy sexuality in youth, please click here. More importantly, it is really essential to speak with young women before marriage to prepare them for what to expect, where to seek help should they need it, and to make them feel like even if things don’t go as expected, they are not alone, and they have a support system.

It is essential that we start raising awareness about this increasingly common condition and seeking proper resources. The health of our marriages and communities depends on it. A recent article in India found that “vaginismus is emerging as a major cause of divorce in Kerala.” Quoted in the article is leading gynecologist Dr P A Lalitha, of Malabar Hospital, who says “Fear is the main reason behind this condition. Added to that, early marriages and lack of proper sex education add more oil to the fire.” Dr. Lalitha confirms a finding that HEART’s fieldwork has also uncovered – that the way society approaches sexuality – with fear – combined with a general lack of sexual education can lead to numerous intimacy issues. Furthermore, just listening to the numerous testimonials on the Women’s Therapy Center channel, I notice that despite the incredible diversity of the women, they all came from families that upheld abstinence. While abstinence in and of itself is a praiseworthy value, I do pose the following question: Are abstinence messages being relayed in a manner that lead to developing unhealthy attitudes towards sexuality and instill a general fear of sexuality instead of a positive outlook on sexuality?

As Wajahat Ali explains how often the “sex talk” is limited to a simple “don’t do it”, with the “it” not even being defined, he highlights why this is not only confusing for our young people, who develop and undergo the same adolescent changes as the rest of their peers, but it also creates a challenge for them to understand, find, and maintain healthy relationships. Using a driving metaphor, he explains “Muslim youth are expected to go from 0 to 60 mph with a spouse, 2.3 kids, and a suburban home without being taught how to start the engine and how to maintain the vehicle on its journey.”

As such, it is crucial now more than ever to begin having conversations about sex and sexuality – within an Islamic framework while being cognizant of the hypersexualized society we live in – with Muslim youth.The sheer amount of fear of intimacy, clash of expectations between spouses and sexual tension that is all too familiar to many Muslim newlyweds is contributing to years, if not a lifetime of marital discord and unhealthy relationships in our community. Moreover, the lack of culturally-appropriate sex education for our youth is leading to much confusion, risky sexual experimentation, and unhealthy attitudes toward sex.