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Statement of Solidarity: #BlackLivesMatter

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Graphic that reads, "In community, in solidarity, in mourning, in sacred resistance with #BlackLivesMatter."

At HEART, we are committed to dismantling the root causes of gender-based violence (GBV) and oppression in the communities we live, work, and pray in. This especially includes addressing racism and white supremacy – that sit at the foundation of violence in all its forms. Anti-black sentiment, racial bias and profiling, and blatant discrimination is ingrained in our communities and in the very systems we interact with every day, including police and law enforcement. This reality has resulted in centuries of increased surveillance and police brutality, disproportionately targeting Black communities, resulting in the unjust  murders of Black people across the nation. 

We honor the lives of those who were murdered by law enforcement just in the last few weeks. We say their names and send love to their families. 

George Floyd.  Breonna Taylor.  Sean Reed.  Ahmaud Arbery.  Tony McDade.  Nina Pop.  

And the list goes on.

At HEART, we believe that at the very core of our being that Black Lives Matter. To be committed to anything less would be in conflict with our understanding of how systems of oppression intersect and contribute to violence in all its forms. 

At the same time, we recognize that as an organization led predominantly by South Asian and Arab women, our work tends to most often reach and resonate with those who look and sound like us. This clearly means that we have shortcomings in building intentionally with Black Muslim communities across the country and we pledge to do better.

We take direction from our Black community leaders, in particular, our board members Kafia Ahmed and Betty Rose Green , our advisor Kameelah Rashad, our organizational partner Margari Hill, Mariame Kaba, and especially Black Muslim leaders in California who have made clear asks of their non-Black colleagues in the movement. There is no turning back in this moment to reform the systems in place because they have been broken for far too long. 

As such, we stand in solidarity with Black Muslim leadership in calling for an end to police brutality. We pledge to continue our commitment in the following ways: 

  • We will participate in the Day of Outrage on June 5th to speak out against anti-blackness. 
  • We will uplift information, resources, and calls to actions by those on the frontlines of anti-blackness.
  • We will use our expertise in bold messaging and education towards anti-racism education.
  • We pledge to continue our organizational development that is grounded in an anti-racism lens, both as a non-profit and for all of us individually. We cannot expect change to happen systemically if we do not first work to improve ourselves.
  • We are renewing our commitments with our extended team of trainers, interns, and volunteers by asking them to sign on to our statement of solidarity. 
  • We will continue to use an intersectional lens with the sexual violence prevention and intervention work we are leading in Muslim communities.
  • We are committed to our ongoing professional development by experts in racial equity. We are committed to financially investing allocated zakat funds towards anti-racism work on the frontlines.
  • We will work with individuals and organizations that  are using a racial justice framework.
  • We will double down on our commitment to invest in the leadership of women of color, especially Black women, by developing various avenues to leadership in our organization.
  • We will deepen our partnerships with Black Muslim-led organizations.

We are indebted to the labor and sacred resistance of Black leaders in this country and beyond. Our team has benefitted from the knowledge and foundational organizing work of leaders from SisterSong, the Movement for Black Lives, Move to End Violence,  MuslimARC, Muslim Wellness Foundation, the Me Too Movement and others who have paved the way for the work to end gender-based violence to be done in a way that is intersectional and simultaneously challenges white supremacy and the other systemic oppressions that sit at the core of GBV.

As an organization driven by our faith, we are committed to standing firmly against injustice, as decreed by the Quran, whether it be against ourselves, our families or communities. To be anti-racist is a continual process and we must start by looking at the ways we have internalized or externalized white supremacist/dominant culture. It is a lifelong commitment and we are here for the marathon. 

We call on our communities to join us. 

Protect one another. Defund Police. Demand police stand down against protesters. Close prisons and jails. Support Black-led organizations with your money, your time, and your talent. Begin with looking internally at your implicit biases and be in the active practice of disrupting them. Hire Black-led organizations to train you, your staff, and leadership. Revisit your hiring policies and organizational culture. Challenge yourself to think about the difference between tokenism and authentic inclusion. Have difficult conversations with your families. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Hold space for those to heal.

Make duaa (prayer) that our communities do better. Make duaa that we stay safe. That we live to see the day where we are all liberated, can live, and breathe.

Make duaa for Black lives to matter, now, and always.

In Solidarity. From our heart to yours. 

The HEART team

Links/Resources:

Impact of COVID-19: Community Care

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An image of grey apartment buildings with people in the windows
 Image created by Catherine Cordasco. Submitted for United Nations Global Call Out To Creatives – help stop the spread of COVID-19.

Part II of the series. Read Part I here. | Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Domestic Violence

by Navila Rashid

*Names have been changed for privacy reasons

About 4 years ago, I remember walking out of the Kings County Family Court with my client Sakina* and walking over to a food truck. Just a week earlier, she was in my office with a bruised face and a busted lip, recounting how her husband would brutally beat and rape her. He went as far as to tell her how she had no rights because she was not an American citizen.

Working as a social worker in a gender-based-violence (GBV) non-profit meant hearing these stories daily and more uniquely, how they found our services. Sakina shared that she had no idea that GBV organizations existed and that she was grateful that law enforcement connected her to us. Her husband had cut her off from her family and hid all of her documents. All she had was a flip phone, which she hid from him. She had no community in Brooklyn, and was about seven thousand miles away from her family in Bangladesh. 

Back at the food cart outside of the family court, Sakina had a surprisingly large smile across her face. It was time for us to order food and she insisted on paying for me. I refused and reiterated our policy about boundaries with clients and she stopped me by gently placing her hand on my shoulder. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “My family is so far away and you’re the closest person to family for me right now. If I was home with them, I would be buying food for my siblings. Please, let me feel like I have family right now.”

So I let her. 

I share this story because I’ve been thinking a lot about community and what community care looks like for those that are victims of violence and are doubly and triply isolated. To those whose community is now inaccessible because quarantine restrictions due to  COVID-19 has become a “new normal”. I’m thinking about how the smallest acts of care can make someone feel whole, and opens the door of the unique ways community care can be practiced. 

But what is community care and why does it matter?

Community care is the important work of taking care of our communal ecosystems, the people and places we are in community with. At HEART, we believe that communal care is a part of the essence and tradition of Islam, and at its very core, it is RAHMA (compassion). 

When thinking about victims and survivors of GBV in all its forms, it’s especially critical to consider the most marginalized. In a world where COVID-19 exposes how poverty exacerbates pre-existing societal, intergenerational, gender, race, class, and ableist inequities, it is also highlighting how each of these carry independent and interdependent  stigmas and shame. 

Additionally, for those that are now further  marginalized because of COVID-19, the echoes of a digital divide is palpable, especially for victims and survivors. Not only are we seeing the disparity of reliable health and safety resources and information about COVID-19, but also a limited access to community care that can cultivate a sense of safety for victims and survivors of violence. 

“A digital divide is the gap that exists between individuals who have access to modern information and communication technology and those who lack access.” One can even say that the virus reveals how structural and institutional violence has caused a digital divide, making the marginalized even more vulnerable and further isolated 

Last month, we shared the unique ways Muslims victims and survivors can be impacted during COVID-19, and we would be remiss if we also didn’t acknowledge that virtual resources that are meant to be accessible, inadvertently leaves out those who never had access to computers, phones, and internet to begin with. 

With social distancing in place, and knowing that this can lead to increased violence in the home, community care is that much more important for those who are impacted by the digital divide. It means, finding the ways to visibilize those that feel invisible and unheard. It also means being more creative with ways to connect them to not only resources but to the things that can make them feel a sense of healing and restoration. It means shifting the burden of action from the individual survivor/victim, to the collective community at large, and working to ensure that our communities are safe and cared for.

How do we reach the most marginalized victims and survivors and cultivate community care?

There isn’t just one way to reach the most marginalized, and we may not have all the answers on how to find solutions to support victims and survivors who are out of reach. But if there’s anything we can walk away with, it’s the idea that social change can only happen if we are willing to start a paradigm shift to dismantle structural powers that further marginalize those with the least power. 

How do we do this?

This means for those of us that have any iota of privilege, are we willing to risk it to give voice to those who don’t? Are we willing to risk our standing and our status? Are we willing to cultivate community and show up in the ways that mean letting go of what’s comfortable?

Sakina felt cared for by the community  – in this example, me – knowing that food and sharing a meal is what connected her to a sense of wholeness during crisis. She wanted to feel human and to feel like she had agency. Victims and survivors already feel like they are isolated and alone,, and this means losing community when it matters the most. 

A close friend of mine, a survivor of violence and someone who had very limited access to a phone and a laptop while in crisis, shared a few ways he hopes people can show up for victims and survivors who are the most marginalized:

Respond with RAHMA (compassion): With social distancing in effect, many people feel inhibited and no longer are able to check in on their loved ones who may be victims or survivors. This can become jarring especially in Muslim communities where there’s a culture of being tight-knit. 

  • Call To Action: The act of virtually (phone call, texting, video chats) connecting may reassure victims and survivors that they are not alone despite heightened environments of isolation not limited to COVID.

A Call for Old Devices: laptops, cellphones and tablets, that can be allocated to community members who do not have mediums to communicate.

  • Call to Action: If you know your friend/neighbor/family member lives in an abusive home, consider giving them an old cell phone/device their partner may not know of. This will allow them to contact you in case they need something. *We will be releasing a relief fund soon that will offer devices, money for emergency services, etc…

Increasing accessibility: Creating accessible language instructions for installing applications that can be used for communication that do not require subscription like: google voice, whatsapp, etc…

  • Call to Action: If you are providing a device, consider having these already installed with contacts pre-filled.

Community Organizing: Creating relay systems identifying neighbors or community members within the surrounding area of individuals most in need and in danger, who can be contacted in crisis/or who can simply check in. Especially those with visible and invisible disabilities. 

  • Call To Action: Pod mapping (originally developed by Mia Mingus for the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective) is a great way to identify who you can call on if violence, harm or abuse happened(s) to you; or the people that you can call on if you want support in taking accountability for violence, harm or abuse you’ve done; or if you witnessed violence or if someone you care about was being violent or being abused. 

Spontaneous social distancing visits. Remember that a little can go a long way in lifting the spirit of marginalized victims and survivors: clothing, games, teach-ins, a phone call, showing up to deliver something, sending food, etc…

  • Call To Action: This can look like a mail person, or a random relative/friend with a delivery to interrupt a person who harms from their abusive behavior.

In listening to my friend and thinking about Sakina, there was a recurring theme of wanting to feel like human beings that have agency, choice, and community. We are built and made for human connections and fostering a deep sense of belonging. 

Community care during COVID-19 for victims and survivors means that we must confront our systemic structures just as much as we continue to provide relief from immediate crises of the most marginalized. It requires us to build a community where we are in constant interaction with one another and mobilizing for those who lack access and power. 

If you’re reading this and know of anyone in your community that needs support, please reach out to them and let them know you’re there for them. Remind them that they are seen, believed, and heard.  

Outreach and Community Engagement Manager for HEART; Navila Rashid is a Bangladeshi-American forensic social worker, freelance educator & trainer, and consultant working with diverse clients.

National Hotlines for those that need immediate support

  • National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
  • National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-HOPE
  • Rape Crisis Hotline: 1-888-293-2080
  • AMALA Hopeline: 1-855-95-AMALA
  • National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
  • National Alliance on Mental Illness: 1-800-950-6264
  • National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-422-4453

Specialty Organizations that work with Muslim Communities

National Organizations for Educational Purposes

Impact of COVID-19: Violence in the Home

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A black and white photo of a thin branch with a small flower bloomed
Photo by Roman Kaiuk on Unsplash

*Part I of a series of post related to the impact of COVID-19

by Navila Rashid

Like ripples in water, the whole world is experiencing the waves of the COVID-19 pandemic. And with each wave, we are trying to find ways to cope with this “new normal”. Although some of the most well-known pandemics have come and gone, we continue to miss one pandemic that has been ongoing since the time power and control has existed: gender based violence. It would be a tragedy  not to acknowledge that we actually have two pandemics running parallel to one another, overlapping at the intersections of the most vulnerable. 

Before COVID-19, about 1 in 4 women and nearly 1 in 10 men have experienced sexual violence, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Also keep in mind that nearly 68% of these cases go unreported, and research shows that in communities of color, there is an even greater likelihood of not disclosing incidents. With COVID-19, these rates have been surging worldwide.

So what do the statistics above mean and what am I really saying when I mention, increased violence in the home?

Violence in the home or abuse is a pattern of behavior that one person uses to gain power and control over the other person. This can be categorized but not limited to as the following: physical, verbal, emotional, psychological, sexual, financial, digital, spiritual, forced pregnancy, constant surveillance, etc… 

While the CDC encourages “social distancing” –keeping space between yourself and other people, outside of your home– what can be seen is that COVID-19 not only exacerbates, but also uncovers how structural violence has been and continues to be a barrier for victims and survivors. Further, for the most marginalized, staying at home may also mean living with the person who harms them, increasing the chances of violence with limited access to resources and community,  that may have been somewhat available pre-COVID. 

What does this mean for Muslim victims and survivors?

“He told me that as long as I stay in a separate room, and pray to Allah (God), then I would be relieving  the sins of spreading this virus because I have been non-stop coughing. He said that I am at fault and I’m not allowed to leave the home.” -Anonymous 

COVID is already uniquely impacting victims and  survivors and we can also see this being further incensed for Muslim victims and survivors as well. 

Here are some ways Muslim victims and survivors can be impacted at this time:

  • Victims and survivors may be experiencing increased surveillance from the person who is harming and further isolating them. 
  • Victims and survivors may not have access to essential items such as disinfectants, hand sanitizers, and masks, and may be receiving misinformation from the person who harms them.
  • Victims and survivors that are immigrants/immersed in immigrant communities may have limited access to the most updated local/national information regarding COVID-19 due to lack of language access, and watching predominantly international news.
  • Victims and survivors unable to access their place of worship which may have been a place of community or a safe haven from experiencing abuse/harm in the home. 
  • Victims and survivors can look like youth and children (under the age of 17) and can experience increased violence while in quarantine; especially if school has been closed for the rest of the year. 
    • Check out this resource for information specific to child abuse/sexual abuse and what you can do. 
    • Note: Please check and follow the rules/protocol regarding reporting child abuse/sexual abuse in your respective state. 
  • Victims and survivors who identify as LGBTQ+ may have loss of contact with community spaces, businesses, and/or members that may have provided support. 
  • Victims and survivors may experience an increase in spiritual abuse.

Spiritual abuse is the misuse of religious doctrine, religious authority and (most of the time) male privilege to gain power and control over an individual. This type of abuse exists within and outside of Muslim communities, and it is important to note that places of worship are sometimes accessed by victims and survivors as places of respite. We also acknowledge the conflicting reality that also exists: many mosques are not typically identified as model institutions when it comes to equity or addressing gender based violence; however, during times of COVID, it is imperative that religious institutions are even more intentional with working closely with direct service and prevention organizations already doing this work and are at the frontlines. The Muslim tradition is rooted in the concepts of justice, upholding the sacred inviolability of people, and commitment to addressing oppression. Gender-based violence in all its forms is antithetical to Islam and God’s commands. 

At HEART, we try to uncover the root of the problem and  move forward collectively to challenge the notion that violence can only end if the victim or survivor takes full responsibility. 

Here are some ways you can support someone:

  • Ask a question and Respond with RAHMA (compassion)
    • With social distancing in effect, many people feel inhibited and no longer are able to check in on their loved ones who may be victims or survivors. This can become jarring especially in Muslim communities where there’s a culture of being tight-knit. 
    • During this time, supporting someone can be as simple as reaching out, asking a question, and responding with RAHMA (compassion). 
    • The act of virtually (phone call, texting, video chats) connecting may reassure victims and survivors that they are not alone despite heightened environments of isolation not limited to COVID. 
  • Create a safety plan
    • You can do this virtually with someone, over the phone, or through a virtual meeting. This can include determining coded language for the victim to communicate when they are in danger and need help.
    • Code(d) language physically can mean different gestures to indicate the levels of safety a victim is currently in. On social media, code(d) language can be guised as asking simple non-invasive questions about topics not related to violence. 
  • Find ways to practice self-care and/or community care 
    • HEART has created a unique self-care manual, Sukoon (which is Urdu for peace, tranquility, and wholeness) to provide an accessible tool to find respite during these uncertain times.  
    • Sign-up for our newsletter to find out when we release a community care toolkit designed for everyone as we navigate times during COVID. 
  • Connect with our Virtual Peer Educators (VPEs)!
    • We know that safety can also look like anonymity, and our Virtual Peer Educators are here to create safe(r)/brave(r) spaces for you to ask for help and to direct you to resources. 
    • This service is confidential as we honor an individuals privacy since talking about any of these issues can be very difficult. 

Ending violence in the homes, and in the community is our amanah (trust). While victims and survivors may avoid infection outside the home during COVID, inside the home becomes an unavoidable danger. We have a responsibility to uphold the highest standards for not only ourselves, but also our community and ensure that we can cultivate a world where all people are free from violence and can thrive in the communities they live, work, and pray in. 

Program and Communications Manager for HEART; Navila Rashid is a Bangladeshi-American forensic social worker, freelance educator & trainer, and consultant working with diverse clients.

National Hotlines for those that need immediate support

  • National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
  • National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-HOPE
  • Rape Crisis Hotline: 1-888-293-2080
  • AMALA Hopeline: 1-855-95-AMALA
  • National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
  • National Alliance on Mental Illness: 1-800-950-6264
  • National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-422-4453

Specialty Organizations that work with Muslim Communities

National Organizations for Educational Purposes

Victim-Centered Responses to Power-based Violence

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Too often, institutional responses to power-based violence fall short for numerous reasons. First, they may fall short because they were not addressed in a timely manner–either because leadership did not know, or more likely, because those who spoke up were silenced. Second, they may fall short because in the process of saving face and protecting the reputation of the institution or the person who has harmed, the needs of those who have been harmed come second.  It is no longer acceptable for institutions to protect their own reputations at the expense of those who’ve been harmed. As such, to combat that institutions can work to develop victim-centered responses. Victim-centered responses:  

  • Prioritize the needs of those who have been harmed.
  • Protect the confidentiality and privacy of those who have been harmed.
  • Offer multiple avenues towards justice and healing, including restorative justice. Punitive measures are not the only option. 
  • Do not speculate what *may* have occurred, but rather transparently address that there have been people harmed and the general categories of harm that occurred.
  • Require a deep humility on part of leadership–they must listen, they must hold trauma, anger, sadness, and they must not get defensive. 
  • Enable those who have been harmed to lead the accountability, justice, and healing processes at the pace they want to.

Responding to, Addressing, and Preventing Power-Based Violence in Muslim Communities

As such, in order to respond to and prevent power-based violence effectively, institutions need to work at every level –individual, community, and systemic–to create the change. Those who do harm must be addressed, and the people, structures, and systems that enable that harm must also be addressed. From one-on-one crisis intervention and community education, to institutional response and policy change, there is a critical role for every member of society. Moreover, it is crucial for leaders in institutions to understand why victims don’t report and the barriers to disclosure, to work towards making it easier for victims to come forward and seek safety.

We will not be able to eradicate power-based violence without everyone committing to play a role, and working to institutionalize the following norms into our culture:

Believe those who come forward 

Often, some of the first people survivors disclose to is someone they know: a neighbor, a family member, a friend, a teacher, an imam or someone else in leadership. Yet, too often these individuals are not equipped to respond to the disclosure. Instead of supporting them and offering resources, these “first responders” do not believe them, shame them and blame them for the harm they have experienced, and do not direct them to services that can help. The RAHMA principles, were developed by HEART initially to offer individuals an easy-to-implement framework for response to any sort of sensitive disclosure.

Everyone –including and especially institutional leadership–should know how to respond to a disclosure. The way one responds in the moment of disclosure can have a lifelong impact on the survivors ability to heal and seek help. The RAHMA principles offer a framework that individuals can follow to respond to a disclosure, in the moment of crisis, and independent of the accountability and justice process.

Institutions and leaders need more training & education

Another important step to culture change at the community and institutional level is for those in leadership positions to immerse themselves in ongoing education and training to develop a deep understanding of the spectrum of power-based violence. This includes engaging in comprehensive anti-racism, gender-equity, and anti-oppression trainings that explore how systems of oppression perpetuates power-based violence. It is crucial to reflect on how the staff and leadership at the institution are supporting the full diversity of their communities, and the ways in which they are not reaching marginalized identities. Marginalized identities face additional vulnerabilities, including a higher risk of being harmed and not disclosing. True culture shift and prevention cannot occur without a serious commitment to internal work.

Nurture intentional collaborations

Another step towards meeting the needs of those who have been harmed is to begin bridging the gap between professional expertise and services, and Muslim leadership. For several decades, Muslim women have been at the forefront of addressing power-based violence, including gender-based violence through their work in mainstream secular institutions, culturally-specific direct services organizations, community and youth development organizations, academic and Islamic scholarship, and education and prevention-based organizations. These women hold expertise in the fields of public health, social work, sex education, Islamic law, violence prevention, and community organizing. Despite this, religious leadership remains disconnected from those doing work on the ground and remain resistant to authentic partnership.   Increased collaboration and partnership between religious and community leaders and power-based violence experts is not only long overdue, but critical for the future health of our communities at large. 

In order to treat those who have been harmed with the compassion and justice they deserve, it is critical to place the onus on society and institutions to make reporting power-based violence, such as spiritual abuse, and seeking help more accessible and encompassing. Muslim survivors of spiritual abuse and power-based violence exist, and in a heightened environment of gendered Islamophobia, xenophobia, anti-blackness, and anti-Muslim sentiment, it is imperative that our communities do not fail those who have been harmed and further enable systems of racism, patriarchy, Islamophobia, and interconnected systems that enable violence towards Muslims. 

Resources on Power-Based Violence 

Trained experts on violence, oppression, trauma, Islamic law and mental health 

Hotlines & Mandated reporting: 

Working Toward Community Accountability

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by Nadiah Mohajir

Imagine that there is someone you deeply love and respect. Maybe they’re a celebrity. Maybe they’re a religious leader or your spiritual teacher. Maybe you know them. Maybe you studied with them, learned from them, were in company with them. Maybe you are the person you are today, because of them. 

Now imagine you hear this person has done harm. Maybe they said something racist or were hateful toward women. Or worse, maybe they abused someone, emotionally, physically, spiritually, or sexually. Your world is shattered because this is not the person you know and it is certainly not the experience you have of them. 

So you do what instinctively many of us would do. You defend them. You share your stories of this person doing good, of being kind, loving, and compassionate. Of all the times this person wasn’t racist or misogynist. Or abusive. You share stories of being healed by this person, of your life being changed by this person.

All of this may be true. And it may also be true that this person did the harm they are being called out for. While it is difficult and hurtful to hear about a loved one doing harm, and that it is in conflict with what you know of them, it does not mean it didn’t happen or could not have happened. In fact, it may even be likely it did. As I have been exploring harm, systems of oppression, and community accountability, I’ve learned that that these conversations can, and usually do, go very wrong. The key to changing how these conversations can happen begins first with deep self reflection and understanding of the following lessons from those working in the field of community accountability: 

  1. We all have internalized systemic oppression to some degree. White supremacy is real. Patriarchy is real. Misogyny is real. Racism is real. In fact, more than it being real, it is ingrained. In all of us. Every.single.one.of.us. It’s how we’ve been socialized to see and interact with the world. And it requires active practice to first become aware of how we’ve internalized these oppressions and they manifest in our every day lives, our interactions, our leadership. Second, we have to learn how to then actively interrupt and disrupt when those internalized habits show up. It is an active practice. One that can be exhausting. One where you will make mistakes. Over and over and over again. But one that we all need to commit to.
  2. People who do good can also do harm. We live in a world that is not black and white, but rather is complex and the reality is that most people who do harm, also do good. In fact, in the case of many abusers, doing good is often their disguise, so that they can continue to do harm. Of course, the magnitude of the harm differs with each individual, and the impact of harm is on a spectrum. Because we live in a culture that is quick to shame, it is easier to create a world of binaries: heroes and monsters, good guys vs bad guys, us vs them. This can blur the spectrum and makes is harder to have difficult conversations that hold people accountable in a way that is fair and just.
  3. Violence and oppression are on a spectrum. While rape is not the same as catcalling, and accountability looks different for both, the practice of catcalling contributes to a larger system of culture and attitudes that perpetuate sexual violence to occur. This is especially salient when thinking about prevention and working toward addressing the root causes that lead to sexual violence. 
  4. Always center those who have been harmed. When you hear a story of said harm, listen to those being harmed. No matter how upset or uncomfortable it makes you, listen to the stories of those whose experience of this person is different than yours. Don’t shame them. Don’t get angry at them. Just. Listen. Most of all, don’t tell them they are wrong or lying.  In fact, it is likely they are telling the truth, especially if they are speaking of sexual harm. And, then, don’t insist on telling your story of how this person has helped you or changed your life. That is adding to the harm they’ve already experienced. It can be re-traumatizing. It can be isolating. It is one of the reasons why many leave the communities they once were a part of. 
  5. Call out culture is not effective and we need to hold those in positions of leadership accountable for the harm they commit. Call out culture does not change behavior. It creates divisiveness, and a binary as mentioned above, and in the case of an abuser, only strengthens their resolve to double down on their words or their actions. That being said, it’s important to hold those in positions of leadership and celebrity accountable for the harms they commit. Because of their status, position in the communities they are leading, and their ability to influence attitudes and culture, we cannot let the harm they do slide. Brilliant minds like Mariame Kaba, Shira Hassan, and Adrienne Maree Brown have been exploring what community accountability can look like without having to rely on call out culture or law enforcement for decades now, and it is our responsibility to learn from that work. It involves messy, complicated, difficult, uncomfortable conversations that can take months, or even years, to facilitate. But the results are there. Behaviors and attitudes can change, relationships may be repaired, trust can be deepened, and most importantly, future harm can be prevented.

Sitting with the reality that those who we love can also do harm is both uncomfortable and unnerving. It can challenge people to question whether their experience of this person was true in the first place, or it can compel people to defend their loved ones in ignorance and further perpetuate harm. These are hard truths to face, but if we want to build communities that are transparent, safe, accountable, and compassionate, we must do the self work and reflection needed to engage in addressing these truths head on.

Helpful Websites:

Transform Harm: A virtual resource of articles, talks, and other helpful information where you can learn more about topics such as community accountability, transformative justice, and supporting survivors.

Move to End Violence Racial Equity & Liberation Webinar Series: A webinar series to begin learning how to integrate liberation and equity into personal and organizational leadership practices.

Adrienne Maree Brown: A blog by the author of Emergent Strategy, that explores topics on liberation and equity, community accountability, and transformative justice.

Want to host a conversation on abortion in Islam? Here are some guidelines

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At HEART, we are committed  to ensuring that our Muslim communities have access to trauma-informed and accurate information regarding reproductive health and rights. Moreover, we also are committed to prioritizing the safety of those who may potentially be triggered by community events and conversations that are intending to address the timely topic of abortion.

In prefacing any conversation about pregnancy termination or abortion, we must acknowledge the following truths:

  1. The abortion debate in the United States has historically been, and continues to be, rooted in gender oppression, and mostly led by white men in powerful government positions
  2. The abortion debate in our Muslim communities in the United States has historically been, and continues to be, centered in male leadership and scholarship.
  3. Recent legislation banning abortion will have the greatest impact on communities of color, including Muslim communities. Specifically, the laws regarding abortion have more to do with criminalizing black and brown women than with morality and have tremendous implications on the future of mass incarceration.
  4. A person’s decision about abortion is deeply private and personal. The decision should remain exclusively between her and a healthcare provider. Her partner, and/or a spiritual guide, may also be involved, if she wishes.

By  continuing to center male authority on this matter, those directly impacted in our communities – Muslim women – remain dependent on men, reinforcing the vulnerabilities of unequal power dynamics. The hardest part in uplifting the voices of the directly impacted is that it challenges the essence of male privilege and leadership in our communities.

The conversation on abortion is long overdue in our communities; in fact, it is critical for our communities to engage in open and honest conversation as pregnancy loss, termination and abortion is a daily lived reality for many Muslims. However, in order to ensure the safety, mental and spiritual well-being of those who are directly impacted, it is crucial to commit to having these conversations in a thoughtful, responsible manner.  Because of the uptick in community conversations on abortion, we’d like to offer a guide for Muslim institutions and community members leading these conversations, to do so mindfully with the following recommendations:

  1. Reconsider hosting events about issues that predominantly impact women without several, diverse female voices. This is to promote the basic premise that women should not be absent on panels or events, especially concerning topics that pertain to them and their bodies.
  2. Remember that hosting conversations and events about issues that require expertise – must include an expert. For example, an event regarding abortion must include a clinician who can speak  directly to the issue based on work experience.
  3. Acknowledge that Muslim leaders and scholars are not experts on everything and therefore are not trained to discuss just any topic. It is CRUCIAL to partner with local institutions that already have done the groundwork, and have a framework to address these topics in a way that is accurate and trauma-informed.
  4. Trust women to be the experts on their bodies and experiences. Trust women to be the experts on their bodies and experiences.
  5. Replace shame and stigma pertaining to pregnancy loss, termination, and abortion with compassion, healing, and support.
  6. Be mindful in who you invite to speak on the topic. Selecting an appropriate scholar means that an institution is choosing someone who is qualified to speak about the subject matter, has shown extensive history and knowledge regarding the subject matter, and is not being selected for merely being religiously trained as a scholar or identifying as a woman.
  7. Be committed to hosting programs that are trauma-informed. At any given point, we may not know the negative impact that participants/attendees are experiencing  regarding topics presented. Cultivating a space that fits their needs emotionally and psychologically fosters safety, trust, and openness in engaging with information. For example:
  • A trigger/content warning must be provided if images/photos are to be shown.
  • Always speak as if there are survivors of abortion and/or pregnancy termination in the space.
  • Practice RAHMA principles and responding with compassion and mercy.
  • When possible – provide a trained trauma informed clinician/counselor who can offer support for individuals who may be triggered during the event.

It is imperative that those that are directly impacted have ways in which they can access services holistically. If we want to be at the forefront of honoring our religious commitment to compassion as well as our duties to gender rights and humanity, we have to have these difficult conversations. The only way to do this is to center the voices of the directly impacted.  

Faith and Reproductive Choice: The Abortion Debate

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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.

ACOG

The Messy and Hard Work of Being an Ally

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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.

An image of a list of good vs. poor ally responses

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.

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