Abida Mian's Blog

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Quora Question: What is it like to be raised by a Muslim?

I’m writing this in response to a gentleman that commented on one of my answers. I want to set the record straight, and talk candidly about why his perception of Muslim men doesn’t correlate with my own personal experiences with my father. I’m certain he’s not the only progressive moderate Muslim in the World.

Do I think Islamophobia exists? Yes.

Do I find extremism abhorrent? Yes.

#againstreligiousprejudice

Dear Anonymous,

Meet my parents.

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You:

“Rules to oppress and subjugate women, slaves and kafirs does not mean we have to believe that it is noble or good.”

I don’t disagree that there are extreme Muslims that treat women despicably. I condemn that wholeheartedly.

My father was born in India, his family were Muslim. Prior to the partition, his friends, the boys he grew up with were Hindus and Sikhs. The partition changed his perception of religion, as a young boy, he couldn’t reconcile in his mind why there were so many dead bodies along the path to the newly formed Pakistan. Abandoning the life he once knew, his friends, his home, all he wanted was for it to all end.

Later, my dad learnt that his childhood Sikh friend was killed by adult Muslims. He was horrified. “How can they say they know allah, when they can take an innocent boy’s life?,” he told me. My father still identified himself as a Muslim, but he didn’t feel the need to pray five times a day. It was how he lived his life that mattered.

My father never thought Islam was superior to any other religion. Always spoke highly of Hindus & Sikhs. He loved and respected Gandhi. He was to show me the film about his life as a young child, so that I learnt tolerance, forgiveness and empathy for others.

In contrast, I grew up in the Western world, but with no ethnic diversity. I was more interested in Mathematics than religion, it made more sense to me.

His philosophy was integration, that I was to respect the culture and traditions of the country I grew up in. Whilst other non Christian parents took their children out of school morning prayers, my father forbid it. He told me that the world didn’t revolve around me, that I needed to learn what’s important to others, and not feel like I’m different.

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My dad bought me this dress especially for my school Christmas party. Would it surprise you to learn that I’ve always celebrated Christmas? That every 25th of December we have traditional roast dinner, crackers, hats, and rubbish Tv? That my father made me address our White Christian & Jehovah Witness neighbours as Aunty and Uncle as a mark of respect? Surely not Muslims, they have no regard for other religions?

My dad’s answer on who he supported in the cricket showed his fairness. Me: “Dad, when India & Pakistan play against each other, you’d naturally support Pakistan right?” Him; “Why do I have to choose. Prior to the partition, I was a happy Indian boy, those fond memories I cannot erase from my heart. In the spirit of sportsmanship, whoever is the better team. There’s nothing better than watching cricket with a bottle of beer in your hand.” What a Muslim that drinks alcohol? He did go to university in the UK, so it wasn’t surprising. In fact, my mum would moan if he had too many beers, but he’d hide the bottles under the sofa and remove it later. It was clear my mum wore the trousers in our household 🙂

But this will shock you further. Until my dad’s funeral, I never read the Quran or stepped into a mosque. My father taught me Mathematics at a very early age, he was highly educated (PhD) and believed there should be more women in the physical sciences and engineering. He was a big advocator of every child whether rich or poor being educated. Throughout his lifetime, he sent money to his local rural village school in Pakistan, he also sent money (we still do after his death) to a poor woman who lost her husband and couldn’t afford Hepatitis medication. What? But Muslim men oppress and subjugate women, I hear you say.

When I went to university my life changed for the better. I became friends with people that were ethnically diverse. My best friends are Indian, Chinese, Arab, English, Ghanan. In a lot of respects they live their life differently to me, because most of them have their faith and I don’t.

The thing is making generalisations about a group doesn’t work in the real world. Does inequality only exist in Islam? Let’s take a look shall we:

Homophobia:

My neighbour of many years, Paul, is openly Gay. My mother was born and brought up in Pakistan, so I was expecting her to feel uncomfortable around him. This shows I was prejudicial towards my mum, expecting her to react unfavourably. I was happy to be proven wrong, she thinks he’s lovely and chats to him when she comes to visit. On the other hand, my other neighbour was brought up in the West, is a devout Christian, said she’s against racism, but if she could be God she would not have gay people. Where’s the humanity? Let me tell you, that’s the last time I’ve spoken to her.

Gender:

Pope Francis:

“There is no problem for a woman — religious or lay — to preach in the Liturgy of the Word… But at the Eucharistic Celebration there is a liturgical-dogmatic problem, because it is one celebration — the Liturgy of the Word and the Eucharistic Liturgy, there is unity between them — and He Who presides is Jesus Christ. The priest or bishop who presides does so in the person of Jesus Christ. It is a theological-liturgical reality. In that situation, since women are not ordained, they cannot preside.”

So, I take it that a woman will never become a pope in the future?

Hierarchy:

My father brought me up to believe I was no better than a beggar on the street. That the colour of your skin doesn’t matter. There is only one race, the human race. So, why have some got a higher social standing than others? Why did Gandhi have to highlight the plight of the “untouchables”, and how come they still convert to Islam & Christianity to this day?

My point if it’s not bleeding obvious! There are “good” and “bad” people in every religion. Oppression of certain groups happens in all faiths. I have a lot of respect for my Christian, Muslim & Hindu friends, because I judge them by their moral compass and not stereotype them with every Tom, Dick & Harry that follow their religion, as you do.

Now on to the current issue of Islamophobia:

Islam faces many challenges. There has been a rise in anti-Muslim hate crimes, I’ve seen first-hand how vile people have been taunting and threatening women that were entering and leaving the mosque at my dad’s funeral.

I always think it’s important to be fair in life. There are women that are forced to wear the hijab and burka, but my friend Haleema isn’t, to her it’s part of her identity as a Muslim. Whatever your beliefs, no man should tell a woman what they can and cannot wear. I have no problem with a woman wearing one if its of her own volition.

In the States, women were punched in the face and their head scarves removed. Over here, a woman was kicked in the stomach, she lost her baby. Totally unprovoked attacks. Haleema doesn’t like it, but I tell her not to wear her hijab if she’s leaving her shift at the hospital late at night. She’s a paediatrician, helping save children’s lives irrespective of their faiths, yet all bigots care about is what’s she’s wearing, and not the person she is inside. Is that right?

This picture of a Muslim woman on a French beach. On one hand it’s a sensitive time and it’s best not to antagonise people, on the other, she is wearing a head scarf, her face is still visible. Elderly women wore head scarves in the old days. Would a nun be threatened with gas if she was there? Are we now dictating what women can wear? Are they hurting anyone? Behaving like this and trying to kid yourselves it’s right! A civilised nation?

Muslims are worried for their safety, as well as wanting to make others feel safe around them. How can they overcome this hurdle? Should they sacrifice their religious freedom because of prejudices of others?

It would be remiss of me if I weren’t to admit that l do make prejudicial judgements. I’m human like everybody else. We are not born prejudiced. We pick up prejudice from various sources during our life: newspapers, movies, politicians, social media, family and friends.

Your comment:

“There is no logical reason for Islam to even exist. Those people that follow the religion are all the same”

You’re entitled to your opinion, but your reasoning is illogical, the truth is that statement is false. Muslims differ based on how they were raised, their life experiences, their education, exposure to different cultural groups, their personality. You cannot judge a whole religion by judging small groups of people. There are many good people also who truly and in the right sense follow the religion.

Acknowledging that prejudice is part of our human nature, a way of us understanding the world, is the first step. We may not be able to change the inherent way others think, but we can challenge them to reduce their prejudice.

What is foreign to our own beliefs can often appear threatening at times. Despite not identifying with a particular faith and it’s rituals, I still celebrate Eid, Christmas & Diwali with my friends, tolerance is part of my nature, as it should be for anyone. There is no need to erase differences in perspectives, and we should not abuse or belittle people that try to find meaning in their life (provided they are peaceful) through faith. I sometimes ponder whether the mathematical beauty of nature is suggestive of a non-physical being of consciousness and intelligence or it’s just random coincidence, but in the meantime, I won’t lose sight of what’s important, my moral compass.

Kind regards,

Liberal minded woman who believes in equality for all regardless of gender/sexuality/status raised by a Muslim man. How the f*** did I turn out like this 😉 Sorry, to disprove your perception!

Comments:

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Quora Question: What do you fear the most? 

I imagine most people fear death – pain/suffering, non existence. It is human nature to want to understand and make sense of the world around us, but death can never be fully understood by anyone. It’s the greatest unknown.

But that’s not mine. There’s something worse than that:

“The fear of losing my mind is my greatest fear”

There was an elderly married couple I knew through work. They’d come and see me every month for the past eight years. She was from Belgium, him British. Always well dressed, old school money, lived in Knightsbridge. The wife wore the trousers, super smart (spoke several languages), meticulous, her memory was superb. Although we were from different worlds, she was never snooty. Refreshingly, very down to earth, direct at times, but I admired her head strong nature.

Over time we became close, she would always ask about my family, worry that I was looking too thin, and would tell me that I looked beautiful when I didn’t try too hard. I found her to be very caring. Despite her privileged life, there was great sadness in her heart. As her confidence in me grew, she told me that she had a son but they hadn’t spoken in years, he lived abroad with his wife and children. The quarrel was over money, he stole a substantial amount from them, and scarpered. She tried to reach out to him, but she felt that they were missing the mother-son relationship, because he was raised by a nanny.

The nicest thing she ever said to me was that she wished I was her daughter. A couple of months after my dad died, her husband died too. At the time, I was grieving, I didn’t see it, but in hindsight the signs were there, her mind was gradually deteriorating. Her behaviour was odd, she started to miss things that she would never have done before. She’d open her bag lots of times, take things out then put back in. There was a lot of cash in her bag, when I asked her why she carried thousands of pounds, her answer was that she lost trust in the bank. I feared her getting mugged.

At first, I assumed she had dementia, but it progressed to paranoia when she thought that everybody in her life was trying to kill her. That included her neighbours, her doctor, my colleagues, the only person she trusted bizarrely was me. I listened to her and became increasingly disturbed. How could someone who was one of the brightest women I’d ever met change so drastically?

Everyone dismissed her as a crazy woman, but I had known the ‘real’ her for years. I didn’t like her being referred to as such. Alarm bells rang when I could see bruises on her frail skeletal body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. After seeing her I had tears running down my cheeks, people told me to not get affected, because she was old (late 70’s) and it was just a part of life that she would die.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Her husband had gone, her son abandoned her, and she had no other family she spoke of. She was all alone. It played heavily on my conscience, how could I turn my back on her? Just because she was old didn’t mean she shouldn’t be allowed dignity and respect like everyone else. I took the next day off work, and went to see her. Her paranoia was so bad that she thought the people that were trying to kill her bugged her mobile & landline.

I waited for sometime before she eventually answered the door to me. Over the next couple of weeks, I would help with her shopping, take her for coffee. I was convinced if I tried hard enough, I could get through to her, somewhere deep down, she would talk to me in the way she once did. Sadly, she kept talking about things that made no sense. There was a brief moment when she recalled my nephew’s age. Her memory was still there locked away deep inside.

I pleaded with her to get a carer or go to a private care home, although she valued her independence, stubborningly so, it was clear she wasn’t well enough to look after herself. If she had an accident, I wasn’t there to check on her. The thought of her suffering in silence scared me. I was to betray her wishes, but it wasn’t as easy as I imagined it would be to get someone sectioned. I tried but to no avail.

She died not long after. It was heartbreaking to watch her decline into someone almost unrecognisable. I confided in no one that I went to check on her. I take some comfort in knowing that although she may have felt alone in her mind, there was someone that shed tears in her memory…

Love you Nella.

RIP

Abi xxx

You see without my mind, I have lost my self-identity, losing connection with everyone & everything around me. That for me means ‘Abi’ has already gone.

Quora: What is the nicest thing you, personally, have ever done for another person?

It was the week preceding Father’s Day. I usually find this a sad time reflecting on another year without mine.

The office cleaner is South American, and cannot speak much English. It was a Friday evening, and I was working late, it was about 8:30pm, and the cleaner arrived. He’s normally smiley, but he seemed off sorts. I was packing my stuff away, his phone vibrated with a message. He looked startled. I asked him what was wrong, and he showed me his mobile. His wife was in hospital, her waters broke, she was in labour.

Immediately, I told him to leave, but he said he can’t afford not to work. I asked if it was his last job, to which he said, “yes.” Me: “Throw me your gloves, I promise to clean the office, but please go be with your family (it was his first child).” Time was of the essence, so I used my account to get him an Uber to the hospital, a bus would have taken him ages.

By the time I finished cleaning, I got home around 10pm.

When people you love leave this earth, they take pieces of our heart and soul with them. Losing someone of such great importance, like a parent, changes us as a person. I’m a lot more humble. Although losing mine was painful for me, I recall the happy memories I had, and recognise the importance of those for others.

The next time I saw the cleaner he sat down with me and showed me pictures of his new born son. We didn’t need language to communicate, his face said it all. A proud father. I smiled intently at him, grateful that his son gets to make memories with the first man that has his heart. Priceless.

Somethings in life money can’t buy…

 

The most touching message I’ve ever received

Respecting the sender’s anonymity, I’ve edited out their name, but was genuinely taken aback by this young woman’s message to me:

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Quora Question: How can I make my boyfriend more classy and modern?

Her: My boyfriend of 6 mth. comes from a lower middle-class family, but for the past 2 years has been earning a huge package at a big firm. Still, he has some irritating habits: making small talk with rickshaw, taxiwallas and waiters; roadside chai; no knowledge of brands and being fine with any outfit.

My answer:

“He makes small talks with rickshaw, taxi wallers, even waiters, has roadside chai, has no knowledge of brands & is fine with any outfit”

Good grief woman, when I read your predicament with your boyfriend, within a fraction of a second there was only one conclusion I made:

He’s awesome, will he marry me!

You are a very lucky woman. He has it all, I would be proud to have such a grounded boyfriend. Good manners and respect for others is priceless, no amount of money can buy you that. He’s gold dust!

Being successful does not give you the right to degrade others you feel are ‘less worthy’ of his respect. These rickshaw drivers, taxi wallers, waiters are human beings who are hard-working, their success isn’t measured by how much money they earn.

One of my neighbours is worth £50 million, he doesn’t wear labels, and chats to everyone, I must feel privileged that he takes his time to talk to ‘poor neighbour’ me, and even God forbid the cleaner. Next time I see him, I will tell him not to talk to me, because otherwise that would mean he’s not classy. He suffers from the same ‘flaw’ as your boyfriend; both being genuinely authentic.

May I ask, what is it that you do? While he’s working his way up the ladder, one day, he may decide that he wants to ‘trade’ up to a more beautiful, successful, kinder woman, befitting to his ever burgeoning ‘classy’ status. How do you feel about that?

“he comes from a ‘lower’ middle class family”: this is another problem with your attitude right here. I think he’s a credit to his family. Unless you can appreciate him for the gem of a guy he is, then do him a favour, don’t turn him into a snob. He already exudes class. I can bet your bottom dollar, he won’t be single for long! 



Quora Question: What makes a person adorable?

It doesn’t happen often, but when I do stumble upon such a gem, I’m always taken by them.

One such person was a colleague of mine that I worked with for a few years. He was my adopted little brother, and I nicknamed him big baby. He was placid, always smiling, pleasant demeanour, thoughtful (always running across the road to get me food when I was stressed, and had no time to go out), kind, showed a willingness to help others, never judgemental, could always see two sides to an argument, appeared confident on the outside but was shy on the inside/a little insecure, never in a bad mood, family orientated, disappointed in himself when he messed up.

Everyone knows that I have a soft spot for him, and out of all those I’ve worked with in a professional capacity, he’s in a league of his own.

The most adorable thing of all was at our joint office Xmas & his leaving do. A couple of weeks after the event, my boss told me that big baby had asked him to look after me, as he could no longer given he was leaving.

If I’m ever lucky enough to have a son, then I hope he’d turn out to be as adorable as him.

Thanks for the A2A, Pradeepta.

Kind regards,

Abi

Quora Question: How can I learn to be more kind?

The first act of kindness was bestowed upon me when I was a small child. It was my first day at primary school. I vividly remember my mum holding my hand, passing these tall gates, then suddenly letting go and waving goodbye. I entered the playground, there was lots of noise from the children playing. All the good toys had been taken, there was nothing for me. I hid away in the corner feeling alone. A single tear drop falls down my face. Then from a distance I see a girl coming towards me, she smiles and pushes a pram with a doll inside to me, then she just walks away. That girl was called Jody and she became my childhood friend.

Then one day I got angry from one of my friends stealing my Barbie clothes from me. I ran to my dad who gets me to sit with him on the sofa and watch Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi. I see tears in his eyes. “Dad, why are you crying,” I said. He said, “Abida, I was a young child during the partition. I remember walking for days without food, seeing dead bodies along the way, and I had lost my parents. I didn’t know whether they were dead or alive. We went from having a good standard of living in India to having to start all over again in the newly formed Pakistan. I learnt the importance of education, I studied hard, swimming across the river each morning to get to my school. I gained the highest marks in Mathematics in the country, a scholarship to study in the UK, and became successful in my chosen field. I never forgot where I came from though. When you see someone that hasn’t got much, please help them, learn to share.” I later learnt after his death that my dad gave money to poor people in his childhood village (they’d contracted Hepatitis and needed money for medication).

Two years ago, I met a nurse. I was paralysed with fear, I couldn’t face watching my dad die. She tightly grabbed my hand and led the way into his room. I watched her chat to him (despite him being in a coma), massage his body with moisturiser, and shave his face. I was humbled by her kindness.

Then it was my turn. One Winter, on my morning walk to Pret, I happened to pass a homeless girl who was sitting on the floor begging for money. Some guy in a suit accidently kicked the hat which housed her change but he was too busy talking on his phone to notice. It was really cold, and the young homeless girl (she must have been in her mid-late teens) had no coat and was shivering and frantically trying to collect the tossed change together. As I walked into Pret, my heart sank (I remembered Jody, and what my dad told me); I got my usual hot chocolate and croissant and also got the girl the same. I stood in front of her and kneeled down and gave her my coat and food. The smile on her face was priceless, she looked up at me and mouthed ‘thank you’. I had such a warm feeling inside.

Whenever someone compliments me on being kind and grounded, I tell them that the real credit goes to people that have inspired me throughout my life. From Jody, my dad to the intensive care nurse. I’m sure there will be more to add to that list in time.

Kindness anyone can cultivate through choice. You can start by graciously acknowledging when someone has helped you, open doors, give up your seat to the elderly, taking flowers or wine when your friend invites you to dinner, help fellow colleagues out, keep in regular contact with friends, be there for people when they hit a rough patch, involve yourself in charity work. The list is endless!

I’ll always remember the times in my life when I’ve needed help. Kindness is an act of genuinely caring and wanting to help others, I never ask for anything in return…