The Heart Team

A Ramadan Reflection on Belonging

May 21, 2019 by The Heart Team 1 Comment

by Nadiah Mohajir

As I continue to work with diverse Muslim communities, I am blessed with being trusted with so many stories. These stories may be extremely painful, often full of heartbreak or betrayal. Others may be inspiring, a reminder of the resilience of human beings, being able to withstand deep struggle and find healing and peace. Almost all of these stories though, also include themes of feeling marginalized or excluded from the Muslim communities we live and work in.

What makes a Muslim, Muslim? Besides the obvious response of declaring that God is One and Muhammad (pbuh) is his beloved prophet, many of the stories I carry remind me of another reality: that too often, our Muslim communities are not always in deep commitment of including just anyone who makes that declaration. Rather, our “Muslim-ness” is often determined by external indications: how we dress, how we practice, and often unearned privileges from the identities we hold. Too frequently, a person’s inclusion is determined by what others will say, and if others are willing to accept them. This can result in the marginalization of too many people: rather than uplifting the importance of values such as compassion, justice, mercy, and respecting that faith and practice is inherently a very personal and private matter between an individual and God, too often than not, whether or not someone is accepted and welcome as Muslim ultimately depends on metrics of modesty, sexual purity & orientation, practice, and what people will say.

And yet, we see the example of our Beloved Prophet, the best of people, who lived and embodied these values of compassion, mercy, love, and justice. Our Prophet, who emphasized the privacy and intimacy of the relationship between a person and God. And our Prophet, who never excluded or alienated anyone – even those who would throw trash at him every day or disrespect his place of worship by urinating. But perhaps the most compelling reflection about the Prophet’s example is from a novel I recently read, A Place for Us by Fatima Farheen Mirza. In this novel, Mirza retells of the famous story of the Hussain, the grandson of the Prophet, interrupting prayer by jumping on his back. We know that the Prophet remained in sajdah for the length of time that his beloved grandson was playing. And yet, the author pushes us to see beyond this story as just a story about a grandfather loving his grandson’s playfulness. She asks:

“For his beloved grandson, out of his love for him, even the Prophet of Islam could pause the single most important requirement of faith, regardless of how many watched. What were we meant to learn from this that we had failed to?”

As we close out the first half of Ramadan, I carry this story with me, and am reminded of the Islam I firmly believe in, that our beloved Prophet practiced over 1400 years ago: belonging should center humanity and belief first, and not our interpretations of practice. It is not for us to decide who is Muslim and who is not, regardless of who is watching or what they will say. We must bring love and compassion to the forefront and remember that single act of inclusion can literally save those living at the margins.

Mother’s Day in Georgia

May 12, 2019 by The Heart Team Leave a Comment

The author of this poem has chosen to remain anonymous

Day 7 and I find myself in a foggy cloud of worry. Discomfort. Restlessness.
My headphones blast Allahu Allahu from my Ramadan playlist as I waddle off the airplane with my travel pillow in arm.
My friend’s words ring through my ears: “they passed the heartbeat bill”

And here we are. And I miss you.

I think about what your little life would have been had this been our home.
I think about what I was feeling at six weeks when I first learned of your existence growing in my then naive and rejoiceful body.
The calls I was making to beloved family and the clever ways I plotted and shared our little secret with only those I loved.
The gentle belly rubs and whispers with my partner about names to come.

How quickly our world flipped upside down when week after week our nightmares turned to reality.
Your heart was beating when we found out you would not live to term at 11 weeks.
Your heart was beating when I cried on the bathroom floor making duaa that Allah make this decision for me.
Your heart was beating when we saw you for the last time on the monitor and took a moment to say our goodbyes.
Your heart was beating on Feb 14th, Ash Wednesday, Valentine’s Day 2018.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Because my Rahma for us needed to extend beyond the Rahm for me and you.

So this Ramadan, I’m in Georgia and making duaa for all the mamas who won’t get to make such choices. That Allah make their hearts a little less heavy. That the grassroots abortion funds receive plenty of money. And that the mamas’ journeys be met with the kind of compassion that is always needed, the kind of Rahma that is always needed, when making decisions about our bodies, for us and for our babies.

Faith and Reproductive Choice: The Abortion Debate

February 10, 2019 by The Heart Team Leave a Comment

by Nadiah Mohajir

Because HEART sits at the intersection of reproductive justice and faith, we understand the complexities of the current abortion debate, and the physical, emotional, and spiritual implications of having to make such a decision. More importantly, when this decision making takes part later in one’s pregnancy, we know that this process becomes even more complex.

We share this letter by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), written in response to the state of the union. The letter provides well-researched facts and statistics about abortion, particularly those in the second and third trimester. As an organization led by Muslim women, we are committed to bringing well-researched statements made by reputable organizations like ACOG to the communities we serve. We fully believe in a pregnant person’s right to accurate information, access to safe and affordable reproductive health services, and to make an informed decision about their body and pregnancy without judgment or feeling pressured.

“Women’s access to accurate, full information and care must never be constrained by politicians.”

In the past year, we have seen various articles and religious opinions about abortion circulating in Muslim communities. Many of these opinions contain inaccurate medical information and misleading statistics; the result is that ignorance about abortion is compounded.

This not only results in shame and stigma for those who’s lived experience includes having to make the difficult decision to terminate their pregnancy, but also perpetuates a silence and isolation around the issue, leaving many individuals to struggle alone.

To be clear, 55% of Muslims in the US believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases. One in four women in the US will have an abortion before the age of 45, seventy-five per cent of whom are low-income. Given how common abortion is, and regardless of what conclusions male scholars draw, we know that many Muslims have and will continue to seek abortion. Muslims, like all people, have unintended pregnancies, pregnancy complications, and other circumstances that lead them to the decision to have an abortion. While those who debate abortion are absolutely entitled to their own opinion and reasoning about why it is not an option for their families, it is a disservice to blur the lines between their personal opinion and (inaccurate) information and generalizations that they pass off as facts. The reality of abortion in the United States is that it is in fact very hard for those who are seeking abortion- especially communities of color and Muslims – to get an abortion safely.

That said, as we said above, we understand that those who are faced with the decision to have or not have an abortion may desire guidance regarding where their faith tradition stands. We support spiritual guidance that is committed to accurate information and uplifts the diversity of opinions in Islamic tradition. As such, for those who find themselves having to support a pregnant Muslim through navigating this decision, we recommend the following:

1) Gather information from clinicians – both in the obstetrics and pediatric fields. A Muslim clinician (although not always) may also be able to offer this information with the religious sensitivity and compassion that the patient might be looking for. These clinicians can help the patient understand the diagnosis, the implications on the mother’s health and the baby’s health, and what to expect with respect to quality of life, and what kind of financial and medical resources will be needed. These clinicians can also speak accurately about the actual procedure and correct any misinformation about process or statistics the patient may have.

2) Gather the diverse religious opinions on pregnancy termination. There is a wide difference of opinion on the permissibility of abortion in Islam. Regardless of where you personally stand on the abortion debate, it is a disservice to blur the lines between personal opinion and the diverse opinions out there. It is critical to uplift and celebrate the diversity of Islamic opinions, and offer the range of opinions using a nonjudgemental approach.

3) Consult specifically a clinician that is has studied the intersection of bioethics and Islamic law. Most likely, this person will be able to understand the full context in a way that many clinicians or religious authority won’t be able to, and can provide a nuanced answer specific to each particular case.

4) Consult laws specific to geography regarding abortion. Every state differs in the laws with respect to whether abortion is legal or not. If the person resides in a state where abortion laws are more restrictive, then access to safe and affordable services will also be something to consider. You can find an overview of these laws here.

5) If you do not feel equipped to provide this guidance, find someone who can. The most powerful thing you can say to a person who needs help is “I don’t know how to help but let’s find someone who can.”

We do not believe that this is a type of guidance that just *any* religious authority can provide. In fact, we’ve heard of too many cases where such guidance has done more harm than good. We also understand that access to trained health care professionals and religious authority is not a luxury most people have. This is precisely the reason our organization, HEART exists: to be able to provide people with the access to critical, accurate information and networks they need to make informed decisions about their reproductive health.

While uninformed arguments will continue to circulate, we continue to remain committed to making sure that all Muslims receive comprehensive, culturally competent, and trauma-informed sex education and reproductive health information. We will continue to make sure that all Muslims can access abortion, contraception, and all reproductive healthcare regardless of their income, immigration status, gender, race, or other identity. Most of all, we will continue to advocate for reproductive choice: the decision to have a child or not, should always remain in the hands of the pregnant person under the guidance of a trained healthcare professional.

We will continue to make sure all Muslims are treated with the respect, kindness, and dignity that Islam teaches us to uphold. The verses of the Quran were revealed at a time when certain individuals – especially women – did not have certain control over their lives, granting them that agency: where before they could be forcibly married, now it required their consent; where before they had no inheritance, now they had inheritance. Muslims deserve to be part of a faith community that honors the legacy and example of the Prophet of God, who made space for women to speak about their own reality, even when men tried to silence them.

The Messy and Hard Work of Being an Ally

January 21, 2019 by The Heart Team 4 Comments

by Nadiah Mohajir

With the increased visibility of the #MeToo movement, everyone is having conversations about sexual violence. But unfortunately, not everyone has the tools or understanding to make these conversations productive. Whether these conversations take place on social media, in person, or in interdisciplinary professional spaces such as coalitions or taskforces, there is often a disconnect between those who are showing up as allies, and the people they are trying to stand in solidarity with. This can result in obvious tensions, but also difficult conversations that can result in multiple harms, leaving those who identify as allies feeling confused and rejected, offended at the notion that their allyship was not enough or that it fell short.

To be clear, the common understanding of an ally is someone who wants to show up, or stand in solidarity with someone who does not have the same lived experience or identity as them. So, for example, a nonblack person standing in solidarity with a Black person; a man standing in solidarity with a woman against misogyny; a cisgender, heterosexual person standing in solidarity with LGBTQ folks against homophobia and transphobia; nonMuslims standing with Muslims; a member of the community wanting to support survivors of sexual assault.

As I continue to work in the reproductive justice and anti-sexual assault advocacy movements and raise awareness on these issues in Muslim communities, the exclamation “But I’m an ally!” is something I hear almost on a daily basis. In this present day of social media activism, respectability and identity politics, and sensationalized hot button issues, many are quick to jump on the opportunity of being an ally, but are not fully prepared to do the hard and messy work of true allyship. Some understand identifying as an ally absolves one of criticism; that one’s desire to be an ally is in and of itself enough: however, showing up is just the first, and often, the easiest step. One of the biggest lessons I have learned when working with directly impacted people is that being an ally not only requires deep, deep humility, but also a nuanced understanding of microaggressions, the various manifestations of short-term and long-term trauma, and the acceptance that being in a movement comprised of directly impacted folks and allies will inevitably result in multiple harms. Working through those multiple harms, understanding one’s privileges and power in each situation, and centering those that are directly impacted is what ultimately can lead to true allyship. As such, allyship is not:

simply standing in solidarity with another or attending a protest or rally.
just a formula, or a list of actions one can do to show and prove they are allies.
the number of “fill in the blank” friends you have.
how many Black Lives Matter rallies or Pride parades you’ve been to.

Rather, it is acts of solidarity that allies show a marginalized person or community, that can be received (or otherwise rejected). Simply performing those acts of solidarity are not enough. It is showing up when needed, not when it is convenient. Allies do not get to decide if they are allies: rather, it is up to those who allies are trying to stand in solidarity with to determine whether they accept them as allies. An ally is committed to stand in solidarity, even if they feel uncomfortable or criticized by the directly impacted.

So when I am asked how an ally can show up for survivors, here are a few tips. While this list is specific to allies of sexual assault survivors, note that these tips can work for allies who want to show up in other movements, such as the racial justice movement, LGBTQ inclusion movement, etc.

One: An ally understands that those most directly impacted are the experts. An ally must center survivors and their stories and listen to them. Continuing to belabor their own point, and insist they are right not only tells the survivor they are not listening, but also can contribute to further re-traumatizing and triggering the survivor and others who may be silently witnessing the conversation. Moreover, I’ve often seen allies using their own (unrelated) professional expertise and lens to continue to be argumentative with those they are trying to be in solidarity with. This is not to say that allies and survivors and their advocates cannot engage in healthy debate about issues, but rather that the ally has an open mind: they must consider that they may not have that same understanding because of the inherent reality that they do not – and may never – have that same lived experience. It is inherently that lived experience that makes the survivor more an expert than the ally and it is that experience and understanding that should be given priority in any conversation. Moreover, it is not the responsibility for those who are directly impacted to change hearts and minds; it is the responsibility of the allies to do that work, which inevitably will be uncomfortable and challenging.

Two: An ally assesses their own privilege. Having privilege is in and of itself not a bad thing or something one needs to be defensive about. What one does with their privilege, though, can have a significant impact. An ally is in the constant practice of being aware of the privileges they bring to every space, and understands that certain privileges – particularly those unearned (gender, color of skin, identity) can create unequal power dynamics between them and those that are directly impacted. These unequal power dynamics can make it much easier for allies to silence, discredit, or exploit survivors and their advocates, as allies generally have more resources available to them – including unearned systemic privileges such as those granted on basis of sex, race, and sexual orientation. Moreover, assessing one’s privilege also includes acknowledging the reality that oppression for marginalized folks does not stop. For example, survivors will repeatedly interact with trauma and rape culture. Women will always face systemic patriarchy, people of color will always experience racism. Therefore, it is important for allies to realize that stepping away or not engaging with a certain oppression is also a privilege that those they are supporting are not afforded. Moreover, to reiterate the point from above, an ally steps up when needed, not when it fits conveniently into their life.

Three: An ally apologizes when they are wrong. An ally can demonstrate commitment and solidarity to standing with survivors by apologizing for any harm – even and especially when it is unintentional – that was created by their words or actions. Even if they believe they too, were harmed in the process. In other situations, I’ve seen allies not only refuse to apologize, but demand an apology for how they experienced the interaction, insisting that their feelings were hurt. An ideal apology includes self-reflection on what happened, and does not double down on how they were right. A good apology often exercises humility and integrity and models the phrase “I thought I knew but I was wrong*.” Most recently, Chance the Rapper modeled this type of humble apology shortly after the release of the R Kelly documentary series. Finally, an ally makes a commitment to accountability: to act differently moving forward and learn from the mistakes of them harm they committed.

Four: An ally remains committed to continued education and difficult conversations. It is not the responsibility of survivors to educate their allies. Allies should work to gain a nuanced and comprehensive understanding of the issues and challenges facing survivors by reading, studying, taking workshops and trainings. Allies also work to understand the issues from a systems lens, how systems can enable oppressions to continue, and how allyship can often recreate systems of oppression if not done right. They work to understand how trauma manifests, and how multiply marginalized people experience microaggressions and the impact of multi-generational oppression. This of course does not happen overnight. It requires a long-term commitment to ongoing educational opportunities.

Five: An ally reduces the emotional labor that directly impacted folks have to do everyday. Before responding an ally should ask themselves, “Am I making this about my feelings?” By asking questions like “How come you never told me before?” or “I’m an ally, I’m not a racist – that’s offensive,” the ally has shifted the attention from the survivor’s feelings to their own. Moreover, an ally can work to reduce the emotional labor that survivors have to do by having conversations with their own people. This can include being supportive so a survivor doesn’t have to be in the constant practice of explaining themselves, the situation, or their feelings. This also includes shutting down victim blaming, rape culture, inappropriate jokes, when they happen in their presence.

As the fight for a more inclusive and safer world continues to gain more visibility, allies can play an important role in advancing the cause of those they are standing in solidarity with. However, with this role comes the need for allies to also bring with them a continuous commitment to humility, integrity, and accountability. Allies will inevitably make mistakes, and that is okay. The challenge is to learn from those mistakes so as to not recreate systems of oppression.

* I am grateful to the Move to End Violence Racial Equity and Liberation team for teaching me about this area of learning.

Year in Review: Top Ten List of 2018 Accomplishments

December 26, 2018 by The Heart Team Leave a Comment

We are proud to share with you our incredible accomplishments for 2018. We have had a year of tremendous growth, increased visibility, lessons learned, and exciting future directions. Join us as we reflect on the top ten accomplishments from this year:

One: After seven years of being primarily volunteer run, we now have four paid staff and twenty-two trainers.

Two: We wrapped up our first-ever, year-long anti-sexual assault advocacy training program for student leaders at five campuses across the country. By the end of this program, we trained twenty-five student leaders to continue programming on their campus and had 134 students participate in our two hour sexual violence 101 foundational workshop.

Three: We expanded our board to include some of the country’s most talented, accomplished, and creative women and developed a three-year strategic plan that will help us deepen our programming by emphasizing racial equity, inclusivity, healing justice, and female Islamic scholarship.

Four: We expanded our programming to lead or co-lead more than 82 different events, including leading 28 workshops, 16 professional development trainings, 4 healing spaces, co-presenting at 4 webinars, presenting at 12 national conferences, and launching two capacity building projects with key Muslim leaders.

Five: We expanded our virtual resource center by twelve publications and four videos.

Six: We expanded our research programming arm by bringing on Alia Azmat as our Manager of Research Projects. Exciting research results from our evaluation project will be coming in 2019! Our partnered program with ACCESS in Michigan, led by our intern Maliha Ahmed, also produced compelling evaluation results, which were shared at the 2018 Annual meeting of the American Public Health Association (APHA); research paper to follow in 2019!

Seven: Each of our team members received awards for their work! Executive Director Nadiah Mohajir received the 2018 Chicago Foundation for Women Impact Award and 2018 El Hibri Foundation Community Builder Award. Her acceptance speech is here. Director of Sexuality Education and Training Sameera Qureshi was selected to receive the 2018 Emerging Activist award from the National Women’s Health Network. The acceptance speech is here. Our Programs and Outreach Manager in Los Angeles, Sahar Pirzada, was highlighted in the 2018 Asian Pacific American Heritage Month gallery hosted by the city of Los Angeles. You can read her spotlight here.

Eight: We continued our work building within the movement through our participation in the NoVo Foundation’s Move to End Violence Program, leading South Asian Circles, and partnering with the Justice for Muslims Collective and Muslim Advocacy Network against Domestic Violence (MANADV). Moreover, we were invited to convene twenty-five religious leaders and activists from the gender-based violence field to build a shared understanding of preventing violence in Muslim communities.

Nine: Our work was highlighted in national media platforms such as Teen Vogue, NPR Weekend Edition, Fusion TV.

Ten: We launched our first-ever pop up shop, featuring merchandise with our messaging.

It’s been an exciting and productive year for us! We are looking forward to continuing this great work as we begin 2019 with a renewed sense of hope and direction.

The Fatal Consequences of Toxic Masculinity

November 27, 2018 by The Heart Team Leave a Comment

Group of people holding protest signs — Photo by Samantha Sophia on Unsplash

by Nadiah Mohajir

It’s time to talk about toxic masculinity and how it is killing our communities, especially our women and girls. Early Thanksgiving week, Mercy Hospital in Chicago suffered a mass shooting, where one of their Emergency Medicine doctors, Dr. Tamara O’Neal, was shot multiple times by her ex-fiance, Juan Lopez. Later, Juan Lopez continued firing, when a few others, including a police officer and pharmacist, also suffered fatal gunshot wounds. Only a few weeks before, Dr. O’Neal and her ex-fiance had planned to be married, but she had called off the wedding. Media is reporting that her Lopez had followed her to work, demanding that she return the engagement ring.

Unfortunately, this incident is not unlike other mass shootings: what began as a domestic violence dispute turned into a multiple homicide, a disturbing pattern anti-violence advocates have been trying to raise awareness about for years. In fact, according to Everytown for Gun Safety, more than half – fifty four percent – of shootings with four or more casualties are related to domestic violence. From Omar Mateen who shot a nightclub in Orlando to Parkland shooter Nikolas Cruz, this correlation doesn’t just remain a mere made up statistic, but continues to be proven with each recurring report of mass shootings.

And yet, despite decades of anti-violence advocacy and push for policy change and stricter gun laws, little change remains to be seen. Admittedly, while gun reform and policy change could offer some immediate relief, it is time to examine the root cause of this type of gender-based violence: attitudes of toxic masculinity that dehumanize women and generate a sense of entitlement toward their bodies. These attitudes are often the reason women do not leave abusive relationships, for fear of their physical safety. Put differently, sometimes not leaving is actually the safer option. In fact, a recent United Nations study just found that more than half of female murder victims were killed by their partners, arguing that home might actually be the most dangerous place for women.

It’s time to address this epidemic that is killing too many of our women and girls and make a collective commitment to create a culture shift that promotes safe, healthy, and equitable relationships. Much of this work can begin at home and in schools, starting with boys as young as three. Here are a few tips to help you begin.

Teach boys (and men) consent. It is crucial for all individuals to know the definition of consent, under which conditions it is not valid, and most importantly, how to cope with rejection. Continue these conversations using developmentally-appropriate language and examples throughout childhood and adolescence. Often, parents think about consent in the context of sexual relationships. However, consent can be taught using everyday examples that have nothing to do with sex and intimacy. Whether it’s to get permission to give someone a high five, or to take their photo, or to stop tickling, young people need to learn the value of getting (and respecting) consent. Finally, along with consent, discuss the disappointment one might feel if they do not receive consent, and ways that they can cope with those feelings.

Normalize mental well-being and counseling. Too often, couples experience relationship issues but are not open to therapy and counseling. Seeking therapy and counseling continue to remain stigmatized, and males often receive messaging that counseling is for the “weak.” Encourage counseling, and for younger boys, encourage them to express their feelings through talking it out and showing emotion. Do not humiliate them for crying or expressing frustration or disappointment.

Challenge rape culture in conversations around you, and in movies and media. Speak up, and speak loud when you hear jokes about rape or others speaking about women in a way that objectifies them. Remaining silent enables this kind of toxicity to perpetuate and normalizes misogynist attitudes toward women. Moreover, acknowledge toxic messaging in movies and media, and use it as a teaching moment with young people.

Shift the burden of responsibility for prevention from women. For too long, the burden of preventing violence from happening has been on the victims. If only they didn’t provoke him, or dress like that, it wouldn’t have happened. If only they had taken self defense classes or filed a police report, it wouldn’t have happened. Asking why she didn’t leave is not only not productive and a form of victim blaming, but deflects accountability from the abuser and their crimes. Don’t ask her why she didn’t leave earlier; rather, understand the barriers to leaving and work to reduce those barriers so that it becomes easier to safely leave a relationship.

Do not accept double standards of accountability. The culture of “boys will be boys” is a function of social conditioning, and not human nature. This concept reinforces the idea that certain behaviors from boys are expected and that males are inherently violent, aggressive, promiscuous, and sexist. Do not accept situations that ignore male bad behavior and reject the idea that boys are supposed to be this way. Work to create systems that promote gender equity and systems of accountability.

Believe victims. Last but certainly not least, believe victims. How often have we asked why didn’t she say something before, only to find out that she actually did, but no one believed her? How many accounts have we heard of perpetrators abusing for decades, and many of the earlier victims tried to tell someone about it, only to be silenced? Understand that coming forward is a courageous step for victims, and helping them get to safety should be the utmost priority.

Dr. Tamara O’Neal took all the steps society tells victims to take: she left an abusive relationship. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the most unsafe option for her because Juan Lopez felt an entitlement to her body even after she took her agency back. We can no longer afford to wait for gun reform or better safety planning services to save our women and girls from intimate partner violence. While those changes are necessary and long overdue, they are a bandaid to the larger problem that promotes and encourages violence against women. Changing that culture begins at home.

Learn more:

We are Man Enough Facebook Web Series by Justin Baldoni

Violence against Women – It’s a Men’s Issue by Jackson Katz

The Mask you Live in: A Documentary

Breaking Barriers in Dearborn, Michigan

November 25, 2018 by The Heart Team Leave a Comment

by Maliha Hussain

Earlier this year, a formal partnership was created between HEART and the Arab Community Center for Economic and Social Services (ACCESS). Located in Dearborn, MI, ACCESS is the nation’s largest community health center that serves the Arab population. In a series titled “Real Talk”, educational workshops on sexual health and healthy relationships were delivered across Southeast Michigan. Valuable research was collected from this partnership and presented at various academic conferences, including the 8th Arab Health Summit and the 2018 Annual Meeting of the American Public Health Association.

As sexual health is often considered taboo in faith-based communities, this pilot study specifically focused on Muslim and Arab American women who attended the workshops. There were three major aims: (1) to evaluate a community-based approach to sexual health education, (2) to provide insight into the cultural context that influences information-seeking behaviors and utilization of health care services, and (3) to contribute to the paucity of literature on this understudied population. By employing a theory-based framework, the study intended to de-stigmatize this topic while facilitating more informed decision-making related to women’s health.

Over 50 women attended the workshops and majority of study participants were Middle Eastern/North African, specifically Lebanese. The age ranged from 18-44 year olds while most were single, second generation American, possessed a minimum of a bachelor’s degree, and identified as “religious” or “highly religious”. The research study involved mixed methods, analyzing both quantitative and qualitative results.

Pre/post data on sexual health knowledge was collected from 32 participants. The mean increase in post-workshop knowledge was over two points; this difference was statistically significant (p<0.001). There was also a statistically significant increase between scores collected pre-workshop and one-month follow up (p<0.05), although fewer participants responded to surveys one month after they attended the workshop. The pre/post surveys helped to identify low-scoring questions at baseline and after the workshop. These survey questions involved concepts of fertilization and reproductive anatomy, identifying potential improvements of workshop content and delivery.

The following findings are important to highlight:

40% of participants believed sexual health information is difficult to obtain. There are specific religious and cultural expectations that may hinder access to and retrieval of sexual health information; therefore, culturally-competent information may also increase the likelihood that such women access accurate sexual health information.
23% believed sexual education would increase sex practices. This alludes to the commonly-held concern that the provision of sexual education increases engagement in pre-marital sex. Perhaps the widely-acknowledged failures of abstinence-only education need to be better communicated to this population.
Only 8% reported that they would seek help from a religious leader if they had a problem or question about sexual health. This was contrary to the hypothesized potential influence of religious leaders in this population, given their knowledge on permissibility of certain issues like abortion. The most common selection for whom to seek information from was a qualified doctor (67%).

Sexual health self-efficacy, or confidence in the ability to perform positive sexual health behaviors, was also measured in this study since it is a key construct in health behavior change. Higher mean scores were reported for contraception than STI/HIV testing and self-breast exams. Cultural and religious expectations may explain this finding, since contraception is viewed more positively in Islam (it is permissible) while STI/HIV testing may elicit unfamiliar terminology and concepts that connote risky sexual behavior. Greater understanding of such clinical testing, from the cost and process to the confidentiality of testing, may improve sexual health self-efficacy in performing these positive health behaviors.

While the words “informative,” “educational,” and “helpful” were overwhelmingly used to describe the workshop, three themes emerged from the quantitative analysis. First, participants recognized the shift from traditional sexual education, citing discussions on consent and power dynamics as particularly beneficial. They also requested that the workshop be delivered to men, mosques, and schools. One participant noted, “This is a topic that is considered to be shameful and we need to change that. Education should be given to both the men and women.”

Second, the concept of stigma frequently surfaced as participants noticed the lack of educated discussion on this topic. As one attendee stated, “It is stigmatized to the point where we kind of should shun sexual experiences so it’s nice to be in an environment that is open with this information.” This highlights the third theme regarding environment and the importance of cultivating comfortable and representative spaces. “The workshop was very insightful and I’m grateful to hear it from another Muslim woman. I feel a lot more comfortable discussing it in this setting,” wrote one participant. Maintaining a women-only environment helped to foster openness, confidentiality, and light-heartedness. Suggested topics to address and expand upon included types of lubricant, female condoms, female genital mutilation, and non-heterosexual sex.

Limitations of this research study include small sample size, especially for one-month follow up data. There is low internal consistency of the knowledge scale as the workshop content and survey questions were developed separately. There is also a lack of generalizability to older/non-single women and lack of racial diversity in representing the Muslim community.

Overall, the study findings demonstrate the potential benefits of a community-based approach to sexual health education. Such findings may inform policy, funding, and support for preventative education in Muslim and Arab American populations. Educational health programs can help prevent social stigma about sensitive topics while promoting more informed decision-making. Public health efforts often pull strength from one of their greatest assets – the community. While communities may perpetuate certain norms leading to social stigma, they can also be the ones to end them. Access to sexual health education is a boulder on the road to health equity. It cannot be moved by one person; rather, it requires collective struggle to clear a path for all individuals attain the means to prosper.

Will you join me in Responding with RAHMA?

October 22, 2018 by The Heart Team Leave a Comment

Nadiah Mohajir receiving the 2018 Community Builder award from the El Hibri Foundation

Our Executive Director Nadiah Mohajir received the 2018 Community Builder award from the El Hibri Foundation. Imam Magid and Dr. Shariq Siddiqui presented the award to her. Below is her acceptance speech. You can watch the video here.

Bismillah-hir-rahman nir Rahim. Assalamu alaikum. May peace and blessings be with all of you.

Thank you Imam Magid, for your kind words and continued advocacy and work for and with survivors of violence. Thank you Shariq, for trusting us with your story. Disclosing and sharing your story public is never easy and I am grateful for your courage.

To the El HIbri Foundation, thank you for this esteemed recognition. Thank you to Farhan, and the entire EHF staff for all that you have done for this evening to celebrate the work of HEART, Professor Ganz and Amardeep. I am honored to be included with them and with all of you.

To my family and friends and most of all, my HEART family. You have been with me from the beginning. You have walked with me through all of our many successes and through all of our pain. This award belongs to all of you, for this work would not be possible without your tireless commitment and continued support. It is a pleasure – a life-saver – to be on this journey with you. Thank you.

I began in the name of God, the most compassionate, the most gracious. I repeat these words multiple times every day. Over and over again, I am reminded that the greatest of God’s qualities is His Compassion. His Mercy. His Graciousness. This is what I want to talk to you about today.

Many, many years ago, a man by the name of Muhammad, enjoyed solitude and deep contemplation. He was married and he belonged to a large tribe of people, but we know that he often retreated alone to a cave called Hira during the month of Ramadan. One day, an angel appeared before him and hugged him tight. So tight that he felt he could barely breathe. And the angel said to him, an illiterate man, “Read. Read in the name of your Lord.”

This was the first revelation that the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) received from God. And even though we glorify this story – it was truly a miraculous and divine moment in our history – we often forget that the Prophet was shaken to his core.

And so, he ran home to seek comfort in his wife. Khadijah, may God be pleased with her, received her shaken husband with compassion and warmth. She held him close and covered him up as his body was shaking. She did not know what was happening, nor had she experienced what he had, but she listened.

This is what we in the movement call – holding space.

She modeled a rahma that not only embodied empathy, but a sincere belief in his agency and ability to do great things. SHE BELIEVED HIM even though what he was saying was completely unbelievable. He had no evidence. He had no pictures. He had no witnesses. Yet SHE BELIEVED HIM and she believed IN him. And later, when he was calm, she took him to someone she believed to be a resource*.

These timeless religious narratives serve as inspirations for many of us. Eight years ago I submitted our first grant application for HEART. That same morning, I rushed to the hospital with my 18 month old baby. She had a high fever and could no longer walk. I sat in the hospital room, machines whirring and beeping, feeling completely helpless as I gazed upon my little daughter in the hospital crib. Every moment, we had specialists name dropping terrible diagnosis after terrible diagnosis. She was sedated multiple times, and underwent numerous invasive medical exams.

Even though I was surrounded by family and friends, I felt completely alone and afraid. I questioned every decision I had to make. Thankfully, my aunt stepped in. She is a gifted pediatrician and equipped me and my husband with the proper medical language we needed to advocate for our daughter, and most of all, she taught me to believe in myself and listen to my gut. Thankfully, we did. We discharged our daughter after a five day stay and took her home to recover. Our daughter is now 10 years old.

It is no coincidence that HEART’s work began that same year and its greatest strength lies not in its programming, but what it offers to people: to be a non judgmental community space that provides people with the resources, knowledge, and self efficacy they need to navigate the complexities of reproductive health and sexual assault. We quickly developed our RAHMA principles, a very simple but fundamental framework for those who seek help from us.

RAHMA is holding space with the woman who struggles silently with pregnancy loss, while fielding questions from community about when she and her husband will be starting a family. RAHMA is listening, and offering resources and support to the woman who struggles being intimate with her partner because she experiences debilitating pelvic pain. RAHMA is believing the person that comes to you with her story of teenage sexual assault, at a party; and feels she needs to come forward now and expose her perpetrator as he attempts to be a Justice of the highest court in our country.

It is something we all in this very room have practiced with our loved ones, as they share with us their stories that are far too common yet remain to be spoken. It is about replacing judgment and disbelief with compassion, support, and healing. It is that simple.

There’s no denying this work is controversial and uncomfortable because it challenges people to reconsider how we think about gender, sexuality, and sexual violence. Trust me, we have *a lot* of critics. There are many days we have wanted to give up, exhausted and emotionally spent. But there are also days when we are reminded of why we do this work when those who are most impacted share their stories of healing.

And so, we will not stop. We are the daughters of Khadija, may God be pleased with her. She taught us this path, and we honor her by following in her footsteps.

I invite you to join us and practice responding with rahma. We all can reflectively listen and affirm those who come to us in crisis. We all can honor their context and maintain their privacy. And we all can assist with providing resources.

*credit to Zawar Jafri for sharing this reflection with us.

The Heart Team

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