Struggles of a Covered Girl

A discussion of race, religion and female bodies. nadirahangail.com, @nadirahangail

[strugglinghijabi]

We Root for T’Challa, But Killmonger is Us

Photo: Disney/Marvel Studios

Well, I guess now we know what happens to a dream deferred. It turns into an unbearably beautiful and raging Michael B. Jordan. And to answer Brother Hughes’ age-old question, yes, it does explode.

Black Panther doesn’t just tell the superhero tale every black person has longed to see. It tells the reimagined truth of who we are and what we could become.  And though the original Black Panther storyline was created by a white man, THIS telling of T’Challa, his homeland and his nemesis was borne, steeped and sifted through the particularities of the black American experience.

This story (of black excellence vs. black rage, both of which rightfully exist) could not have been told by anyone other than the displaced and misplaced descendants of stolen-away Africans. Because it perfectly melds the beauty of African pride with the harsh and violent sting of black American poverty. Poverty of wealth, poverty of culture and connection, poverty of the right and ability to know self. So much loss and trauma, yet so much power and potential still. That’s us, yall, through and through.

Think about it. The level of witnessed oppression that drove N’Jobu (Black Panther’s uncle) to defect, that is our every day. This man of royal blood and great power was broken down in a matter of years by the weight of a plight that we have carried for centuries. Despite our multilayered brokenness and destabilizing anger, our will and strength persist. To quote Mama Angelou, we are the dream and hope of the slave.

So even though we cheer heavy and root hard for our dear Black Panther, he is not us. He is but mere aspiration. The people of Wakanda, with their sparkling perfection, are what we look like in our dreams. They are the stuff of our fairy tales, the glossy posters on our walls, the come-to-life drawings we created as children. But be clear: Our reality, our closest mirror image on that screen, is the villain. Killmonger, with his angry fine self, more closely represents anything we could ever recognize in our lives. Because his rage, his “by any means necessary” ruthlessness, we know that. We know his loss, his abandonment, and that familiar sadness that pokes, jabs and slashes its way into rage.

But even with all their differences, with the dichotomy of good vs. bad, T’Challa and Killmonger are two sides of the same coin. As I watched the two of them fighting on the train tracks—cousins, both dressed as the Black Panther—I couldn’t help but notice the poetic completeness of it all. T’Challa represents self-actualization. He is the possibility of fullness. He is DuBois’s talented tenth, the realization of King’s dream and Malcolm’s fight.  To paraphrase Langston Hughes,

His land is a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real and life is free.

Verily, equality is in the air he breathes.

Oh, what a time to be alive… if you are T’Challa. But Killmonger is the other side of that coin. He is T’Challa without the support, without the intact family unit, without the resources, without the privilege of being raised in an environment that poured into him. On the contrary, Killmonger’s environment took from him. Took his father, took his childhood innocence, took his culture, hope and happiness. He even says in the movie, “The world took everything away from me, everything I ever loved.” So yes, he is mad and raging, but why wouldn’t he be? His life bears none of the peaceful marks of freedom. He’s divided by DuBois’ double consciousness and was raised in the shadows of Dunbar’s mask. He is Hughes’ darker brother who was sent to the kitchen to eat. He is dreams deferred, potential untapped, and as T’Challa declares, “a monster of our own making.” So there can be no indictment of Killmonger’s pathology without first taking ownership of the pathology that created him. Killmonger is that cousin, that brother, that friend we all have who had an aint-shit upbringing and grew into an aint-shit man. And even though we hate to watch his life choices, we know why he is the way he is, so we love him still… and make room for him at every family function.

In truth, there is no T’Challa without N’Jadaka, son of N’Jobu. The peace and tranquility of Wakanda hinges on the devastation of Oakland, of Baltimore, of Chicago, of Ferguson.  When King T’Chaka tells his son, “He [Killmonger] is the truth I chose to omit,” I read in that an admission of abandonment, not just of the young boy, but of everyone who could have benefited from their resources (i.e., us, black Americans). And so here we are in this gray space, rooting for ourselves and against ourselves at the same time. Wishing, hoping, imagining that we are the beautiful Wakandan Nakia, though if we are honest, we are much closer to Killmonger’s unnamed American mother. The illustrious James Baldwin said it best, “It comes as a great shock to discover that Gary Cooper killing off the Indians, when you were rooting for Gary Cooper, that the Indians were you.”

Sigh. So many levels in such a powerful film. The imagery, the history, the culture, the whole black aesthetic is something we’ve been aching for and I’m thankful to finally have it, but I can’t deny the parallels it forces us to face.

[strugglinghijabi]

For Je’Nan Hayes and Every Other Black Muslim Girl

photo credit: @glitterngoon, Instagram

I had the pleasure recently of being invited to speak on Al Jazeera’s The Stream. It was a panel discussion focused on the raw feelings and emotional responses of young believers grappling with recent deadly attacks against Muslims. As the crew had warned, the 30 minutes flew by and I felt I had so much more to say, especially to you, Je’Nan. 

You spoke about feeling as though you automatically had three strikes against you as a Black Muslim girl. I saw the hurt and frustration on your face and wanted so desperately to talk to you, just you. No cameras or lights. Just us having real talk about our experiences in these bodies, with this skin, with this way of life. 

Sis, I don’t know you, but I know that feeling, that space, that helplessness. I’ve been lost in it, smothered by it, trapped under it. And if it weren’t for my own body’s need to breathe and my soul’s attraction to light, I might never have moved. Thank God for the rights our bodies carry over us.

So, Je’Nan, sweetness, I invite you to step out in front of fear and never allow it or anyone to have you believe that being a Black Muslim girl is having three strikes against you. Oh, to the contrary, I invite you to create your own story about your intersecting identities and reject any and every supposition that doesn’t serve you.

See, me, when I think of what it means to be a Black Muslim woman, I don’t think of statistics and stereotypes. I think of so many amazing women, but most notably those in my own family. Like my mother, my very first role model who, regardless of every strike, carved out her life exactly as she pleased. She wanted to be a lawyer, so she became that and paid no never mind to the fact that she was entering into a predominantly White male space, or the fact that she had an infant son, two other school-age children and a whole husband to tend to.

Eid ul fitr 2017. My mother and me in the middle. My sisters-in-law on the outside. 

I think of my maternal grandmother who wasn’t even Muslim but loved God fiercely and kept “one of those holy chickens” in her freezer to cook for dinner. She was born in 1926 and faced challenges I can’t even imagine. Birthed 20 children and buried nearly half but was still, by far, one of the happiest and funniest people I ever met. And I think of my paternal grandmother, an army vet born in 1924. She buried 4 of her 8 children and didn’t meet her biological mom until her teen years. Life wasn’t easy, but she lived with as much vigor and purpose as anyone else. Nothing—and I mean nothing—stopped her from living and achieving. A lover of education, she worked as a teacher and earned a master’s degree in nutrition. She converted to the Nation of Islam around 1969 and held tight to her beliefs long past the point where they were no longer in vogue. Kind, devoted and wise, she would not be moved from what she believed to be true.

I think of my ancestors, your ancestors, who lived day to day in inhumane conditions and still somehow kept their hearts soft and their faith strong. It blows my mind to think of what enslaved Africans endured and still they could be trusted with such delicate and vulnerable tasks as preparing the food and raising the babies.

To quote poet Nayyirah Waheed,

people of color could burn the world down.

for what we have experienced.

are experiencing.

but we don’t.

how stunningly beautiful that our sacred respect

for the earth is deeper than our rage.

This is the blood that runs through you, through us. I can think of no explanation other than that Allah’s (swt) mercy is real and He showers it upon those He loves.

If I could be born over and over again, wallahi I’d choose to be nothing other than what I already am. Indeed, Black Americans have suffered a great loss. Had our families, our identities, our entire lives stripped from us. But the silver lining of this incredibly dark cloud is that we descendants of those displaced Africans have the opportunity obligation to retrace, rediscover and reclaim our true selves, and what a blessed and beautiful journey that is! Just as our ancestor Bilal (ra) was lifted and chosen to call all believers to success. We, Black Muslim Women, must also stand in excellence and success. It is our birthright, our royal inheritance.

photo credit: @theloveproject_ig, Instagram

So, yes, I know Black women are constantly maligned as unattractive, unintelligent and harsh, and I know our Islam isn’t always seen as authentic, our very existence questioned and side-eyed. I know our style is siphoned off, sanitized and repacked for sale and cheap praise. I know our bodies are caricatured and mocked and treated as though they belong to everyone but us.

Yet and still, we bloom. Here’s why: When you are continually mistreated and undervalued, your very survival depends on your ability to value yourself…wholly… outside of and regardless of external approval. It forces you to become adept at celebrating yo’ damn self. That’s what #blackGirlMagic and #blackBoyJoy are, a perpetual affirmation of our excellence, of our resilience, of our refusal to lie down and die. This is where I am now, in an abundantly bright space where my self-concept is solid and impervious to the chatter. I invite you to join me. There is room for us all.

photo credit: @_mmoonay, Instagram

[strugglinghijabi]

If I am murdered, know this

If I am murdered, know I saw it coming. I suspected it, feared it, obsessed over it even. Never had the privilege of being oblivious and carefree. Sure, I could assume it’ll never be me, but my demographics don’t allow for such folly. I can’t sit here as a woman, a black woman, a black Muslim woman and never consider that I may find my way into someone’s crosshairs. Macabre, I know, but denying it wouldn’t make it any better. So know I was vigilant and aware, and that still wasn’t enough. Know I discussed it with friends, to buy a gun or not. “I’d have to keep it away from my kids. Would it even be worth it if I have to keep it so far away and locked up? Could I even get to it in time?“ These are the things we discuss. And pepper spray, we talk about that too. (FYI, it’s better to buy foam than traditional liquid. Foam won’t blow back into your face. A friend taught me that last night.) These are the things we discuss.

If I am murdered, know the person who did it couldn’t see me. Could only see hate and fear of his (or her) own weakness. Certainly, he wouldn’t know that I’m really funny and super chill. Wouldn’t know that I have a husband who adores me and kids who need my everything. Wouldn't know that between the two of us, I’m not the one who is the threat. All he’d know was that I’m one of “them,” different and therefore deserving of death.

If I am murdered, know that I never became numb. Every murder before mine was painful and real. Nabra Hassanen could have been my niece, Charleena Lyles could have been my sister, those killed and injured in the Finsbury Park Mosque attack could have been my friends. It’s never just a sad story. They’re all real, all of them: Ricky John Best, Taliesin Myrddin Namkai Meche, Azzeddine Soufiane, Mamadou Tanou Barry, Ibrahima Barry, Abdelkrim Hassane, Khaled Belkacemi, Aboubaker Thabti, Cynthia Marie Graham Hurd, Susie Jackson, Ethel Lee Lance, Depayne Middleton-Doctor, Clementa C. Pinckney, Tywanza Sanders, Daniel Simmons, Sharonda Coleman, Myra Thompson, Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, Rekia Boyd, Katherine Johnston, Deah Barakat, Yusor Abu-Salha, Razan Abu-Salha, Korryn Gaines, Sandra Bland, Mohamedtaha Omar, Adam Mekki, Muhannad Tairab, Ben Keita, the 49 killed at Pulse Night Club, Walter Scott, Tamir Rice, Sean Bell, Aiyana Jones, Eric Garner, and… and… and. I could never list them all. What a shame that I could never list them all.

If I am murdered, know that I didn’t let fear stop me. Cautious but undeterred, I walked this earth like I owned it (because I do). I walked this earth like I have great, great, great grands who took lashes for my freedom, who sneaked and planned and disobeyed and ran and risked and died for my freedom. I walked this earth like I owe something to those who lie beneath it. And most importantly, I walked this earth like I believe in the protection and qadr (decree) of Allah (swt). So as long as I am able, as long as I am alive and have no hashtags associated with my name, I will laugh and love, push and pursue, smile and sing as though my spirit is immortal.

[strugglinghijabi]

Hamza Yusuf and the Dangers of Black Pathology

Ya know, I’m not very familiar with Sheikh Hamza Yusuf. When I say “not very familiar,” I mean I used to think he was the guy who formerly went by the name Cat Stevens. (Embarrassing, I know.) So when it comes to his reputation and character, I think it better to suspend my initial impressions and rely on the Muslims I know (mostly black) who are acquainted with him. What I’ve gathered seems to boil down to three basic viewpoints:

Those who have followed him/known him for years and believe him to be good, kind and absolutely not racist.

Those who have followed him/known him for years and think he’s a decent Islamic teacher but have always felt uncomfortable about his commentary on race and politics.

Those who could never bring themselves to follow him because his commentary on race and politics always seemed racist and out of touch.

So what do I do with that? How do I reconcile the divergence? Well, it seems he’s probably not an avowed racist, but clearly his thinking is misguided and very much affected and infected by the mythology of black pathology. (Shout out to activist, scholar, artist Su’ad Abdul Khabeer for putting this on my mind.) White supremacy, which results in the othering/devaluing of blackness, is so pervasive that even the most well-intentioned people can suffer from it without even knowing. We can probably all think of racist things that have flown out of the mouths of people we generally love and agree with. In fact, we (black people) can probably think of some of our own statements that have been either tinged or deeply stained with this implanted self-hatred. I’m tryna tell you, it’s deep, son.

Sheikh Hamza Yusuf, speaker at RIS2016

As a cousin of mine so eloquently put it, our brainwashing has been complete. There is no part of our thinking or experience that has not been affected, influenced and tailored. So when a well-respected, well-loved scholar like Hamza Yusuf gets on a grand stage and tries to counter and discount black justice movements (BLM and the like) by citing the myth of black on black crime and then tops it off with a statement like, “It actually makes me a little sick to my stomach to see all these people rising up about… white privilege,” we see exactly what we’re dealing with and how no one, no matter how popular, is exempt from inheriting diseased thinking.

For those who Stan for Yusuf and cannot and will not accept these comments as anything more than the result of his intense fatigue, I (kinda) understand your pain. I say this because I know how hard it can be to swallow the idea that a person you have revered for years—a person whose teachings brought you deeper into the fold of Islam—can have racist views. I get that you experience it as a loss, and I get that there is a bit of grieving involved for the image you once held. But after the shock subsides, recognize and acknowledge the danger of black pathology and how it was wound all up and through Yusuf’s RIS 2016 rhetoric.

Black pathology is the idea that black people are—perhaps simply by virtue of being born black—steeped in pathology, unable to think and behave normally, healthily, sanely. Black pathology states that we are inherently flawed, not in a “all of mankind is flawed” sort of way, but in a “something is specifically wrong with those people” sort of way. So the many problems that have befallen black people have nothing to do with concerted efforts of concentrated racism and everything to do with our messed up wiring, which prevents us from pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps like so many others.  Yes, I know Yusuf never made such bold and direct claims, but there was definite danger in his words. 

Why? Because he had an opportunity to educate a mass of mostly non-black Muslims on the oppression of their black brothers and sisters but instead spoke on black on black crime and how America’s anti-discrimination laws are top notch. Translation: “The problem is them.” To borrow a tweet from Su’ad Abdul Khabeer,

Black pathology is used to explain away structural racism by claims of "bad" behavior, culture, morals, etc #RIS2016

— Su'ad Abdul Khabeer (@DrSuad)

December 25, 2016

And then to add insult to injury, Yusuf brought up the racism “in our own communities” but only addressed anti-Jewish sentiment and Arab vs. non-Arab (i.e., South Asian) racism. He made no mention, not even in passing, of the very real and visible issue of anti-blackness in Muslim communities. Please tell me you see something wrong with that.

But that was late Friday night. He was tired and wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He had Saturday to clarify. However, what came Saturday night wasn’t much better. Though he apologized explicitly about his comments directed toward Sheikh Yasir Qadhi and the Muslim Brotherhood, he did not directly apologize about his comments on black people. Instead, he explained how he couldn’t possibly be racist because of his proximity to non-white people. Really, bro?

What’s crazy is that most people didn’t even expect him to come out and say, “I apologize for being a racist.” Brother, only you and Allah (SWT) know your heart. If you say with sincerity that you love all of humanity and are not racist, I’ll accept that you believe that, but know that having a Mexican wife and a mother in the Civil Rights Movement doesn’t excuse you from being held accountable when you say racist things. We all must accept correction. 

All that was required was a sincere apology, an admission of insensitivity, an acknowledgment of the fact that you don’t have the understanding or cultural sensibilities to speak to such issues.

But that’s not what happened. Instead, you crawled deeper into the cave of black pathology by saying the breakdown of the black family is the greatest issue facing black Americans, not racism. I must ask, how on earth can any person with any bit of black history under their belt discuss the tearing apart of black families, which is a real thing, WITHOUT centering the structural racism that was put in place specifically to do just that? There is no clear picture of one without the other.

Otherwise, you end up sending the message that black men and women are being incarcerated at alarming rates just because. That’s black pathology. You end up sending the message that black people are killed and mistreated (by others and themselves) just because. More black pathology. You end up sending the message that black people tend to be less financially stable just because. Another statement powered by black pathology. This type of thinking attaches itself to existing ideologies of racism and supports them as they grow, further blotting out black humanity. Ergo, it is a very big deal.

So if you are going to discuss such complex topics, be willing to make space at the table for all relevant aspects, including those that make you uncomfortable. And humble yourself enough to admit where you lack knowledge. If you cannot do that, silence is better.

[strugglinghijabi]

For the scared ones who know not what they do

Been thinking about fear, how toxic it can be. How it can rob us without us even knowing it. I pray my fear never overtakes my righteous mind. For myself and my children, I must always believe that Allah (swt) is greater. What I’ve written below is neither a justification or indictment. It is context. 

____

She beat her son.

Not because he was bad or disrespectful,

But because she knew they thought he would be.

And because she knew her fear was justified.

And she knew their fear was real.

Realer than baby kicks and labor pains. They were scared of her boy.

And their terror left no room for error,

No room for bad days,

No run and jump, no frolic or squirm. No freedom.

Only loving beatings and mental cages

That, perhaps, would keep him safe.

Perhaps.

She beat her daughter.

Not because she deserved it,

But because her mind was 12 and her body was 22.

And she knew, all too well, the fate of pretty black bodies.

She wanted something different for her daughter—

Like her mother wanted something different

Like her grandmother wanted something different

Like her great grand wanted something different.

All of whom were afflicted with daughters who were both 12 and 22.

And so, full of love and strategy, she shamed her. Called her “fast.”

Nitpicked her body until it wasn’t anything to feel good about.

Because maybe if she hated it, they would hate it too.

And her daughter would be saved.

Maybe.

Image credit: Frank Mckenna

[strugglinghijabi]

To Hillary Clinton and anyone else who wants to work with Muslim communities to get information

Hills—may I call you Hills?—I think it’s time we had a sit-down. No, not like that weird, SNL-skit of an interview/audition you did with Mary J. I mean a real conversation, with no singing or awkward hand holding. I know you’re a busy woman so I won’t take up too much of your time. I just need to ask you a question. In fact, let’s nix the sit-down and you can just drop your answer in the comments section below. So here goes (and please be honest): Do you think Muslims are super-predators?

(Mary clasps Clinton’s hand as she sings a song about being polite to police so they don’t kill you. Credit: Apple Music, Twitter)

I mean, I already know black young men are, but what about Muslims?  And if they are, then what about black Muslims? Are they, like, super super-predators? Gosh, I hope not. I’ve got two of those living in my house. Hope they don’t attack me. That wouldn’t be good.

But let me stay focused. I ask this question because it seems you have the idea that working with Muslims will get us to all of a sudden give up secret terrorist information we’ve been hiding. I’m not sure how you think that’ll work. Is your plan to give the kids Eid gifts, the women pashminas and the men beard oil? (Because I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ll definitely drop a dime for a new pashmina.) Or do you plan to just befriend us and make us think you like us so you can extract all this valuable data we secretly carry around, like names and numbers of future suicide bombers? If you’re planning on either of those, let me give you a bit of advice: don’t.

I’d hope you want to engage Muslim communities because they are a part of American society, particularly black Muslims, who have been here longer than you have. I’d hope you genuinely want to make relationships and get to know new people. But if all you want to do is use us, we’re not interested. And what type of people do you think we are that you’d actually believe we have such information and wouldn’t give it up? That would make us complicit and accountable. Understand this: Regarding anyone who calls themselves Muslim but engages in terrorism, we don’t claim them, don’t like them, don’t have anything to do with them. They clearly have a disease of the heart and don’t understand Islam. And you clearly don’t understand us if you think we’d aid and abet such individuals.  

This may come as a surprise, but most acts of terrorism are carried out by people who arent’ Muslim. Also, so-called Islamic extremists have killed more Muslims than they have anyone else. So the idea of Muslims knowing about these people and simply not say anything because we’re not friends with you is unconscionable. We’d have to be…well… super-predators to do such a thing, hence my original question. But since we aren’t super-predators, I’m sure you can see how ingratiating yourself into our communities would be a waste of time. And we can’t have you wasting time; you’ve got a White House to get into.

[strugglinghijabi]

Blue Ivy is still winning: Dismantling the tragic black woman myth

So I just heard that someone--a lot of someones--had the nerve to fix their lips to call baby Blue Ivy ugly. This has happened a few different times, unfortunately, but the impetus for this particular uprising of haters was her appearance at the 2016 MTV Video Music Awards. I didn't watch the live airing of the show, but my social media timelines were full of beautiful pictures of Blue in her gold high-low tutu. She looked stunning, and that her mother (or stylist) would pair such an extravagant dress with two simple cornrows is just...yaaaaasss! (There really are no other words to describe that.) As far as I was concerned, sweet baby Blue was winning at life and that was that. I mean, the child looked like a uber cute, magical, ethereal, melanated 2016 version of Cinderella's fairy godmother, and someone still had the nerve to be displeased? Dis tew much!

Blue Ivy and Beyonce at 2016 VMAs.

Kimberly Foster of the website For Harriet did a wonderful video on this topic. (Check that out here.) And since I'm a writer, my first reaction was to pen a heartfelt piece about battling the brainwashing and toxic beauty standards that leave black girls feeling unattractive and unworthy. But you know what I did with that piece? Deleted it. Straight up ctrl-A and backspace. I had to.

I cannot contribute to the tragic black woman narrative. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the worst thing in the world to be is a black female. Because everyone hates us, and everything thinks we're ugly, and no one wants to marry us, and everyone thinks we're unprofessional and uncouth. That's the story that gets retold and recycled. And though misogynoir is realer than Chili's baby hairs, we still shine. We still walk and stride with the rooh (spirit) Allah (swt) has breathed into us. Remember, we are made in the best of molds. Those are our Creator's words (95:4), not mine. Let nothing overshadow that fact.  

So, yes, some ignorant, self-hating adults made disrespectful comments about a small child, but for every person calling her ugly, there are two more singing her praises. For every person acting as if it's a bad thing that she has her daddy's features, there are many others showing her picture to their daughters saying, "Look, honey, she looks like you."

The imagery of Blue Ivy, Quvenzhane Wallis, Skai Jackson, Riele Downs, Gabby Douglass, Simone Biles, Simone Manuel, Coco Jones and other unambiguous girls and young women will never be undone. People can say all they want and they can project their insecurities on others all they want--even defenseless four-year-olds--but no number of mean tweets or comments will erase anyone’s beauty or worth. That little girl, like every other little girl, is perfect in every way. THAT is what we must focus on. 

Know this, black woman: The world is full of people of every color and creed who appreciate your existence and are in awe of your beauty. Not in an over-sexualized, fetishized, I’m-gonna-steal-your-look sort of way, but in a I-love-my-brother/sister-as-I-love-myself sort of way. And not that we need anyone’s validation, but the whole world isn’t blind. Sometimes we can be so focused on those who disapprove that we look right past everyone who wants to love on us. 

When Brother Malcolm (el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz to put some respek on it) wrote his famous letter to Sister Betty from hajj, he spoke of a spirit of unity and brotherhood he felt with people of all colors. This experience didn’t erase anything that was going on back home. Racism was/is still very real. But in his own words, it “forced me to re-arrange much of my thought-patterns previously held, and to toss aside some of my previous conclusions.” 

I think we, too, need to do some rearranging and toss aside some previous conclusions. What he understood while on hajj is what we all must understand: Every soul is created with a good and pure nature. All of humanity is not against us. To be sure, there are many unhappy people whose only bit of joy comes from visiting their misery upon others. We can't change that, but we can protect our thinking from the idea that no one sees our greatness. Trust, everyone sees it. The recognition may not look like it should, but you can't blot out the sun or deny its warmth. So why worry? We will never be what they say we are. We will always be what we know ourselves to be.

[strugglinghijabi]

For everyone who doesn’t look like Teyana Taylor

First off, props to Mrs. Taylor for the snapback! The discipline and dedication it takes it get your body in such shape--right after having a baby--is amazing. She blew our collective mind when she appeared on the 2016 VMAs looking as chiseled as a sculpture. The internet is still recovering. But, ladies, please understand that you can be just as amazing without looking that way. 

photo: Tidal

There is nothing wrong with admiring another woman’s beauty. In fact, please do that. Please support your fellow sisters and speak words of kindness and affirmation, but don’t degrade yourself in the process. Don’t ever think that another woman’s excellence is the only type of excellence that exists. Lies!

Instagram is full of #bodygoals pictures featuring incredibly toned women with almost unbelievable bodies. And beneath those beautiful pictures are comments left by beautiful women who teeter on the edge of being encouraged and being destroyed, on the edge of admiration and self-hate, inspiration and despair. Encoded in their “oohhs” and “aahhs” are doubts and worries that they will never be so wanted and perfect. Because they do squats too. And they make a mean kale salad with homemade vinaigrette dressing, but they still don’t look that way. Legs not so smooth. Tummy not so flat. Butt not so hard. More like soft. More like warm and squeezable. More like a different kind of beauty that’s hardly celebrated and hashtagged. But it's real. More than a “before” body, nowhere near a punishment to be tolerated. It is yours--your home, your vessel, your gift through which you experience the abundance of this world. 

Just as we must reject narrow beauty standards that only praise whiteness and near-whiteness, we must reject body standards that suggest only the sculpted and svelte are fitting. And we must reject them even if we have been roped into perpetrating them. It is our right to choose differently. So if you want to chisel up, please do. But let it be because you’re into weights or because you want to improve your health or for some other reason that has personal meaning to you. But don’t do it to seek anyone’s validation. You are already valid just as you are.  

[strugglinghijabi]

Black Muslim women take on the #SoGoneChallenge

I’m not typically into challenges. In fact, I’m usually the one that’ll scroll smooth past all the tags urging me to join in. But that #SoGoneChallenge though.... I had to be down. I think it’s because there is a tiny rapper that lives inside of me and because my friends threatened me if I didn’t join in. So I did, and it was super fun! I’ll share my video last in the post, because this isn’t really about me. It’s about how my Muslim sisters continue to shine, thrive and just all around show out. I love that each of these ladies threw fear, caution and lack of experience (for most of them) to the wind and pretty much said, “Eff it. Let me just go out here and be great!” 

For a lot of us, this was totally different from what we normally do, so it gave people a chance to see us in a different light. It added a bit of personality, depth, culture and swag (lots of swag) to our virtual personas. But more importantly, it let others know, “Don’t put me in a box! I don’t belong there.” Muslim women are fun and intelligent and exciting and edgy and confident. So I’m always eager to share things that showcase that fact. I also love the variety, depth and thought here. Real issues being discussed. Everything from eating healthy and police brutality to dealing with death, the struggle for justice and teacher work conditions. It gets deep. I'm blown away by the fact that most of these women are not rappers and yet still managed to slay this track. It takes courage to do something you're not used to and then share it with the world.

I’m happy to say that most of these ladies are my friends and family. I guess I move in some amazing circles. Enjoy!

Angela and Zara

Zahara Lambert

Malikah Abeo

Asma Watts

The Jawn

Hashimah Watts

Hayyat Watts

Aliyah Hakim-El

Nurahjannah Abdulkareem

Sarah Cicero

Faheemah Salahud-din

Alia Sharrief

Whitney Sheritta

Anika Sabree

Verinique Cooper

Sajdah Habeeb

Mrs. Latifah Ali

Tiffany Habeebullah

Sade Rasheed-Abdulmateen

Nadirah Angail

[strugglinghijabi]

NYC Muslimahs, “The Love Project” wants you to rep your Crown

Understand, one thing I’m ALWAYS gon’ do is ride for my sisters and promote those who move and create with a beautiful purpose. I could easily get bogged down in everything that seeks to disqualify and erase the diversity of Muslim women, especially black Muslim women, but that’s not even my style. I’d much rather highlight those who are doing the work. 

Photo: Kamilah (left), Saida (right)

Enter Kamilah Shuaibe and Saida Denise Cotton--the amazing, super-bad sisters behind The Love Project. Simply put, “the purpose of The Love Project is to create & sustain a network of women committed to positive & empowering connections to inspire community building.” I took that directly from their Facebook page, so it’s official. But since I’ve had the privilege of getting to know Kamilah a bit over the last few months, I’ll add a smidgen more (unofficially). To me, The Love Project is about dismantling destructive, misogynistic tropes and replacing them with a nurturing, affirming environment that encourages women to wholeheartedly love themselves and others. It says to women, “Yes, we can get along. Yes, we can support each other. No, we don’t have to compete. Yes, there is enough love for us all.” It’s basically like a big hug from your grandmother, and I know every woman in this society needs a grandmother hug. So many messages tell us to be other than what we naturally are, to perform and stuff ourselves into ill-fitting molds that none of us made. Aint nobody got time for that. We out here shining!

So please connect with these sisters on Facebook and Instagram to see what they’re up to and learn how to join in on their monthly women-only conference calls. 

Also (and this is the real reason I’m writing all this), if you are a fly Muslim sister who lives in or will be in New York City on August 27th, show up and show out at the video shoot for the “Crown” music video. Kamilah and Saida are also recording artists, and they are shooting a video for “Crown,” an empowering song that recognizes the beauty of modesty, of wearing your crown with pride. 

They’re looking for sisters of all ages, sizes and shades, so if you’re full of life and nur, plan to be in the building! Check the link below to RSVP or click here to go directly to the Evite page. 

[strugglinghijabi]

For women who chose to love themselves when the crazy-making became too much

I was talking to some friends last night about our body issues, our struggles to not want to look the way we do, to want to be something different, to want to accept what is and overcome. It’s an intermittent, ongoing conversation that may have no real ending. Or maybe it does. Maybe the end comes when we love ourselves from that place on the inside that hears no suggestions and needs no validation. 

We cannot rely on what the world says. The world lost itself long ago. It will surely lose us too if we allow it. 

It says…

Women, you are ugly. Put on some makeup. But not too much. You’ll look like a skank. Use just enough so it looks like you aren’t wearing anything at all. That’s natural beauty.  

Also, you are fat. Lose weight. But don’t lose so much that you lose your breasts and butt. Keep those. Only lose it in the select places we tell you to.

Also, you are too skinny. Gain some weight. Real women have curves. But don’t become too curvy. Then you’ll just be fat. We already told you we don’t like fat.

Also, you are dumb. Read a book. Go to school. But don’t get so much education that you feel the need to speak your mind all the time. No one likes all that sass.

Also, you are lazy. Stop expecting a man to take care of you. Get a job. But don’t become so successful in that job that you begin to surpass men. That’s intimidating.

Also, you are selfish. Stop traipsing across the world and doing things you enjoy. Go home and focus on your kids. But don’t get so busy with your kids that you can’t make time for your man. You need to keep him happy.

Also, you are weak. Stop crying over stupid things. Toughen up. But don’t become so strong that you are not easy to dominate. That would make you a bitch.

Also, you are harsh. You have too many opinions and show hardly any emotion. Soften up. But don’t become so soft that you become emotional. Everyone hates an emotional woman.

Also, you are a slut. Stop dressing that way. Be modest. But don’t be so modest that men can no longer derive pleasure from looking at you.

Also, you are drab. Sex it up. Express your sexuality, but don’t do it in a way where men actually find you sexy. That’s slutty.

Also, you are a tease. Stop smiling and giggling in men’s faces. But don’t be mean either. Every man should feel he has access to you.  

Also, you are too independent. Stop trying to do everything by yourself. But don’t expect a man to do it either. This isn’t the 50s.

Also, you’re too passive. Speak up, especially in the boardroom. But don’t speak too loudly. Men can’t stand a mouthy woman.   

Also, you are picky. Stop passing up men who are interested in you.  Loosen up. But don't get too loose. That would make you a whore. 

Also you are self-critical. You don't even see how beautiful you are. Know you are beautiful. But don’t think you are too beautiful.  That's arrogant. 

Also, you are vain. You think you’re so cute. All those selfies. Be humble and forget about looks, but remember them enough to fix up a little. Men love a pretty face.

It’s not that hard, really. Just be everything we want of you and nothing we don’t. We built a beautiful box for you. Covered it in glitter. All you have to do is stand in it.

___

Reject every box. Stand where the light is. Better yet, be the light. 

photo: Eddy Lackmann

[strugglinghijabi]

Jesse Williams, Black authenticity and the complications of low melanin counts

See, growing up, blackness was simple. Went something like this: We black and black is good. That was that. No qualifiers, disclaimers, or breakdowns. But then I got older and discovered colorism, the idea that not everybody’s black is black, and some people’s black is too black. To have the color-struck masses tell it, blackness past a certain point is unfortunate, unattractive and a sign of everything unbecoming. But go too far in the other direction and it becomes inauthentic, insincere and self-satisfied. The perfect black shade rests somewhere on that thin sliver between the expanses of wannabee and jigaboos. I’m not sure who lives there. But for the hoards of us whose skin and features preclude us from fitting comfortably into that precious scrap of acceptability, blackness gets complicated. 

Because black skin, as mesmerizing and varied as it may be, does not exist in a vacuum. It sits under a historical context and a pervasive social structuring that attaches to every melanin count a story that may or may not fit. It attaches stories that benefit and hinder, stories that share and lie. It attaches stories that incite fear and jealousy and assumption. And in the midst of all this shadow and distortion, we live our lives. 

So when Jesse Williams took to the 2016 BET Awards stage and shook all of us awake with his unapologetic and loving speech, he didn’t stand there alone. He stood there inside his skin, which for some invalidates his genius. A popular critique was that he isn’t “really black” and that his words were only given credit because they were spoken by a man whose looks so closely approximate whiteness. Enter complexity and context. 

Williams exiting stage at 2016 BET Awards (Photo: Matt Sayles/Invision/AP)

Indeed, to look near white in a world that praises whiteness is bound to bring about complication, especially when you use every ounce of that near whiteness to affirm blackness. Perhaps in an alternate universe, all affirming voices are accepted and praised, but here in the land of black and white, the reception of such events is as diverse as blackness itself. So for those who have felt the particular sting of unattenuated racism on their bronzed backs, it can be hard to extend the mantle of blackness to their less melanated brothers and sisters. 

And that hesitation is real. It doesn’t come from a place of jealousy or resentment, but instead from the ugly reality of calculated oppression. Light skin privilege, a mere byproduct of white privilege, affords people of lighter hues certain social and very tangible benefits. This extends far beyond black communities and into the aesthetic standards of every cultural group affected by white supremacy (read: pretty much the whole world).The result is that light skinned people in many instances have been favored and effectively separated from their darker family, a divide-and-conquer technique that has been around for ages. Bringing attention to this phenomenon isn't bad. In fact, it should be discussed and critiqued, but we must do so in a way that doesn’t further divided an already divided people. 

The murky politics of the presentation of black bodies does not erase any amount of blackness in any person, nor does it invalidate their passion and vigor. There is no blackness threshold one must meet in order to prove authenticity. A person can be “completely” black, “half” black or any other combination of blackness and still have an overwhelming love and vision for the Diaspora. Authenticity lies not in the darkness of skin or the kink of hair, but in a shared history and recognition of Africa’s scattered peoples as powerful and deserving. So we can acknowledge Williams’ particular position as a light skinned man and still celebrate how he ethered the dissenters of black justice. 

Jesse Williams has a proven track record of standing for justice, and it is because of his parents (one of whom happens to be white). We cannot herald blackness and the purveyor of blackness, and then, in the same breath, discount the less melanated individuals in that group. Every black activist of today stands on the shoulders of Frederick Douglass, Josiah Henson and William Cooper Nell; on the shoulders of Harriet Tubman, Anna Julia Cooper and Maria W. Stewart; on the shoulders of Paul Robeson, Malcolm X and Huey Newton; on the shoulders of  Iba B. Wells, Fannie Lou Hamer and Angela Davis and many others. There is no one shade that characterizes these giants. They are bonded not in looks, but in love and action. If we are ever to be united in progress, let us study the beliefs and actions of those who fight for us, not the skin they happen to be wrapped in. 

[strugglinghijabi]

He shook up the world: Reflections on Muhammad Ali’s janazah

I’m a G and all, but the older I get, the easier it is for me to cry. So I wasn’t surprised when I absolutely balled through yesterday’s janazah (funeral) for our beloved brother. It wasn’t that we were laying to rest our champion—though that stung too—it was the sheer magnitude and momentum of the moment. For something that beautiful to happen publically, right in the midst of such hatred and judgment toward Muslims, was nothing more than a shower of mercy from Allah (swt). Truly, our magnificent Creator was showing Himself to us, and I must say, I wasn’t ready.

Ali’s coffin being guarded, Reuters.

I felt overwhelmed and in awe of how special it all was, how every second was dripping with meaning and symbolism. In that one hour, the world shifted and I couldn't help but think of the Quranic verse, “ Allah is the protector of those who have faith: from the depths of darkness, He will lead them forth into light” (2:257). As I watched on my small computer screen, I was awash in that light and blinded by its beauty. Was this not a sign that Allah (swt) is with us?

In his traditional selfless way, Ali used his death, his own soul’s transition, to create an international platform for us, from which not to shine and boast, but simply to be--in our purest and most vulnerable form. It was almost too much to bear because I felt and saw just how much control Allah (swt) wields over our worldly affairs. 

Ali full janazah (funeral). (Yes, I know this is FOX.)

There they stood, Muslims, rows and rows of them, openly declaring, “La ilaha illAllah” and “Allahuakbar,” flanked by police officers and other security officials whose only job was to make sure we were safe as we cried out to our Lord in prayer and pain. Just thinking of it brings me chills. People who had only heard these phrases uttered by fictional terrorists in Hollywood films and TV shows were given a different and better context. They were shown something simple and plain and powerful and necessary. They were introduced to undoctored, untampered-with images of Muslims being Muslim--a novel idea in today’s cultural and political climate. And all this facilitated by a black man born in Lousiville, KY, 1942. I’ll say it again: Allah (swt) is in control. 

So even though Muslims are unjustly removed from planes, our children placed on no-fly lists, our brothers and sisters viciously slain; even though black people are brutalized, murdered and denied basic rights, Allah (swt) is in control. He holds us and preserves us and loans us beautiful, shining leaders who show us how to be ourselves. Through them, we gain the strength to stand firm in our authenticity, the strength to boldly be our hair-covering, thobe-wearing, five-prayer-praying, Quran-reciting selves. No fear. Just submission. What a beautiful way to live. 

As Dr. Sherman Jackson so eloquently stated, “The key to dominating a people is not simply to subject them to unjust laws.... The key is to get them to accept this as normal, as just the way things are.... It is to get them to internalize the sense that their roll in life is simply to live as others tell them to live.... Once this happens, a people can never just be themselves. They must always perform according to what you say is normal... Ali took a wrecking ball to all of this.” 

Indeed, Ali tore down the mentral structures that had been put in place to stop him, stop us. He spoke big and bold, not out of arrogance, but as a purposeful affornt to tyranny and injustice. He changed the culture with his words and his ways, and spoke truth to power in such a mesmerizing and undeniable way that the world had no choice but to adopt him as their champion. 

As he stood in strength and light, he graciously pulled humanity in with him. In death just as in life, he shook up the world, and I must say, I wasn’t ready. 

~Like SH on Facebook!

[strugglinghijabi]

What you won’t do to Muhammad Ali’s memory

Our dear brother Muhammad Ali just passed and already the vultures are circling, waiting to pick apart the biggest and boldest pieces of him—just like they did with King.

They’ll pick his tamest and most palatable quotes to represent his legacy. They’ll say his greatness lies in his “mass appeal,” his ability to “crossover,” his dedication to “humanity” and “diversity.” They’ll act as though he didn’t risk life and limb, didn’t lose money and medals, in the name of his beliefs, his very Muslim and very black beliefs.

Let’s be clear. Muhammad Ali’s artistry was for the world. The beauty and theatrics of his fluttering and shuffling was for every mesmerized eye that dared look upon it. He gladly made public his strength and physical skill, unabashed and free in his performances of excellence. But that heart though, that was as black and Muslim as bean pies and bow ties. So if you want to herald our brother, feel free, but don’t soften or dilute his message. He wasn’t on that watered-down, kumbaya, can’t-we-all-just-get-along tip. He was distinctly and wholly for his people. Remember that.

Ali was for blackness, various shades of hued skin. He was for kinky hair that curves and bends. For big bright smiles on beautiful brown faces. Ali was for Islam. For precious heads pressed to floorboards and knees bent in prayer. His love for all of humanity, which he certainly did have, did not diminish his particular and fervent allegiance to outing, addressing and ending the oppression of colonized people. Every chance he got, he addressed black self-love, racism, white supremacy, the beauty of Islam, and his anti-war politics. He changed his name in recognition of his beliefs and to step away from a label that had been saddled upon his ancestors. He was willingly jailed and stripped of his mighty title because of his refusal to join the draft. In his own words, 

“My conscious won’t let me go shoot my brother, or some darker people, or some poor, hungry people in the mud for big powerful America. Shoot them for what? They never called me nigger. They never lynched me. They didn’t put no dogs on me. They didn’t rob me of my nationality, rape and kill my mother and father. Shoot them for what?... How can I shoot them poor people? Just take me to jail.” This is who he was. Remember that.

Ali never cowered and quaked at the threat of backlash and reprisal. He stood up to those who challenged his views and never softened his tone in response. Full of grace and vigor, beauty and grit, he looked hatred and unwarranted power in the face and laughed. Snatched the crown off its head and placed it back atop his own. Called himself the greatest, and that’s exactly why he was. Why he Is. Our king. Our brother. Our nur upon nur. 

It was his undeniable brilliance, his boundless confidence and magnetic energy that gained him that mass appeal, which he wasn’t even looking for. Ali refused to be contained, refused to shave off any parts of himself that didn’t fit into a pocketable box. Our brother Ali was not here for boxes or confines or anything that imposes limits. He was here for freedom.  Remember that.

So please continue to love on him. But do it right, or don’t do it at all.

~Like SH on Facebook!

[strugglinghijabi]

Why I’m Unbothered by Larry Wilmore’s Use of Nigga

When you’re invited to speak at the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner, you're allowed to throw a few jabs. A few easily digested soft blows here and there are applauded, even expected. But you don’t call the president your nigga. You just don’t. But Larry Wilmore did it anyway, and to that I say, respeck. And I say this as a person who doesn’t even use the word. It’s found no place in my vocabulary and I don’t imagine it ever will, but I accept that we all have different relationships with it and process its sordid history in different ways. So I don’t have to use it to understand why others do. 

In my mind, Larry Wilmore called Obama his nigga for the same reason Kendrick did the hood pose in the White House foyer. It was an homage to the unpretty streets that grew so many of us. It was a recognition of the roses that break up through concrete and bright eyes in dim alleyways. It was a way of saying that even in the midst of such opulence and formality, even with all of America’s eyes on us, we remember what made us--the good and the bad of it, the pleasant and the uncomfortable, the joy and the pain. We stand whole in the complexity of our making. We blot out nothing. 

Even as they wore their finest and sat under tiered chandeliers, Wilmore chose to speak in the language of the streets, not to be funny or irreverent, but to be received and perfectly understood. And for those who didn't understand it or who felt ashamed and offended, he wasn’t talking to you. If you could hear my voice, you’d know there is no attitude in that statement. I’m not here to “read,” but to explain. 

Yes, he said it on national television, but that wasn’t for public consumption, and it especially wasn’t for “Why can’t we say it?” whites or blacks on respectability patrol. He was talking directly to Barry, a man who’s spent a great deal of time community organizing in the streets of Southside Chicago, a man who worked directly with the people to encourage things like voter registration, college prep and job training. That’s why Wilmore said what he did. He knew Obama’s experiences have primed him to receive and appreciate that particular message, delivered that particular way. And he knew there was nothing about the presidency that stripped him of that ability.  

[strugglinghijabi]

Twas the Night Before Eid: A Muslim Children’s Tale

Unnecessary disclaimer: This story is just for fun. I’m not at all suggesting you tell your kids this is true, so don’t come for me! (Yall know how believers get.) 

I’m not sure which one of my cousins came up with the Eid-i-claus character, but I remember talking about him as a child. We knew he wasn’t real, but it cracked us up to image how he’d look. So out of those childhood memories came this fun little story. I hope your kids enjoy! 

Image credit: Samira Ali

Twas the night before Eid, and all through the house, 

Not a believer was stirring, not even a mouse.

The bean pie was baked and smelling all good,

In hopes that Eid-i-Claus would roll through our hood.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,

While visions of Eid gifts danced in their heads.

And mama in her hijab and I in my kufi,

Had just settled down to watch a PBS special on Sufis.

Then, from out on the lawn, we heard such a noise.

So I picked up a bat and went to wake my boys.

Over to the window we flew like a flash.

‘Cause it was our holiday and it was NOT about to be crashed.

The crescent moon was a’shining, a sign for all believers.

My youngest son, scared, stood clutching a meat cleaver.

We looked and we looked, until it was all we could handle.

Then, suddenly, from out of nowhere, appeared eight flying camels!

With a suave and cool driver that we definitely recognized.

So we ran outside and gave him hi-fives.

As he stepped off his flying prayer rug, we gave him applause.

We were no longer fearful. After all, it was Eid-i-Claus!

More rapid than eagles, his camels they came.

And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name:

“On, Bilal! On, Ali! On, Ibrahim and Riyad!

On, Tarek! On Mikel. On Haleem! and Jihad!

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

The children ran into the house to get him a slice of the pie.

And we could tell that he loved it from the twinkle in his eye.

He ate a whole lot, almost until he was full.

But he left 1/3 space for air, in accordance with the Muslim rule.

Then up to the house top the camels they flew.

With a rug full of toys and Eid-i-Claus, too.

We couldn’t see them anymore, so we went back in

and waited eagerly until we saw Eid-i-Clause again.

We sat quietly in the house and stared at the chimney.

We figured he would come down, all sooty but still friendly.

But what to our surprise, he came up through the basement.

So we spun around quickly so that we could face him.

We asked him why he hadn’t come as we expected.

He let out a hardy laugh, then spoke in a voice that projected.

He said he heard that some other guy had been using the chimney for over a century,

So he figured he would try something new and different with his entry.

He was dressed in a magnificent jalabiya and a kufi trimmed with gold.

He said his umi made it for him when he was just three years old.

He had a huge bag that was flung over his back.

When they saw it, the children got so excited they nearly had a heart attack.

Because they knew the big bag was full of goodies and toys,

But they didn’t know that the goodies were for some other girls and boys.

He said, “I’m not here to bring you gifts. That’s what you’re parents do.

I collect gifts for the homeless, so they can celebrate Eid too!

So if you have some nice toys you don’t use anymore,

Just slip them in this bag and I’ll deliver them to the poor.”

He smelled of musk and had teeth that shone so white.

I could tell that he had a mishwak and that he used it every night.

His beard was so thick but looked soft to the touch.

I use shea butter every night, but mine still won’t grow that much.

He wasn’t chubby or plump, but lean and fit.

In fact, looking at his physique made me jealous a little bit.

But I put jealously out of my mind because I know it’s an ugly sin.

So instead I just decided to renew my membership to the gym.

He looked at all the toys and from them selected the best.

Then prayed two sunnah rakats on his rug before he left.

Then he turned to my children and thanked them for their kindness.

He told them he loved their spirit and felt they were some of the finest.

He turned to my wife and gave the humble greeting.

Then, last, gave me a hug, and grabbed more pie before leaving.

We watched as he boarded his rug and put the bag on the back.

Then he whistled for his camels, and they came running in no time flat.

They took off into the air and began to glide away.

The children were left sad because they wanted him to stay.

Then we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,

“EID MUBARAK TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOODNIGHT!” 

[strugglinghijabi]

Last-minute Eid Shopping? Check Out These 25 Muslimah Entrepreneurs!

I have to say, I’m truly blown away by the level of talent out there! These ladies are insanely creative and skilled, and I’m so happy to showcase their work. If I could go back in time, I’d do this post at the beginning of Ramadan. But here we are in the last two weeks and I’m just now getting myself together. Shame on me. But better late than never, right? So here I am, showing love to some super cool Muslimah-owned businesses. I appreciate everyone who sent in their information. I was pressed for time, so I couldn’t include everyone. But in sha Allah there will be plenty of opportunities in the future to highlight more amazing ladies!  

Get your debit cards ready. Tons of nice items for the whole family, but don’t be afraid to buy yourself a little something! (If anybody tries to guilt trip you, tell them I said it was ok. Hmph!)

1. GENUINE ARTICLES

What they sell: Quarterly subscription boxes that include 5 unique, handmade items from Muslim-owned small businesses. Items are a surprise each quarter but typically include jewelry, home decor, artwork, bath and body products and more. 

What I love about this business: These sisters made a Muslim business out of promoting other Muslim businesses. Talk about going meta. What a great way to recycle Muslim dollars!

How to buy: Visit genuinearticles.com to signup. Use code EID2015 to get 15% off your order! Follow them on Instagram

2. ROYAL BY NATURE

What they sell:  They offer everything from hair products, body products, baby products, nail polish, fragrant candles and even a lil’ something for the brothers too. You know your husband/brother/father/son/friend/nephew needs some handcrafted beard oil!

Why I love this business: If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, then you know I’m into natural living--organic food, clean products, alla’dat. So when I saw this sister making her own beauty products, I got really excited. What stands out about Royal by Nature is how thorough the lines are. They’ve got so much, and the ingredients are top notch. She really knows her stuff. And last but not least, I’m a sucker for presentation. Her website is so inviting!

How to buy: Visit royalbynature.com. Follow on Facebook at Royal by Nature and on Instagram.

3. VENUS VISUALS

What they sell: Handcrafted jewelry--earrings, bracelets, ankles, body chains, rings

What I like about this business: One word: fierce. That’s what I think when I see this sister’s pieces. They truly are pieces of art. The type of stuff that’ll get you stopped on the street, like, “Where’s did you get that from?!” Oh, and whoever her photographer is, three snaps in Z formation! The photos are gorgeous.

How to buy: Visit venusvisualsonline.com. Follow them on Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr and Twitter @venusvisuals

4. PURPLE IMPRESSION

What they sell: Hand embroidered tunics, scarves and dresses. 

What I love about this business: Most Muslimah businesses have a greater purpose behind them. This one works with female artisans in Pakistan to help them earn a living wage (read: no sweatshops). Beyond that, I live for a loose, flowy tunic. Add some colorful embroidery and I’m good to go!

How to buy: Visit purpleimpression.com. Follow them on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest,  and Twitter.

5. EYESEYE CREATIONS

What they sell: body oils, loc/hair adornments, knit and crochet items, handbags, hats, jewelry, baby and men’s crochet items.

Why I love this business: This sister has a beautiful and peaceful spirit that shines through all her Youtube videos (which you should check out when you get a chance.) I had the privilege of receiving one of her crocheted baby blankets when my son was born, so I can vouch for the quality of her items. He’s 4 and we still have that soft, cuddly blanket! She also has some gorgeous African-inspired jewelry that I really need in my life. 

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop, Eyeseyecreations. Follow her on Facebook and Youtube or check out her main website. 

6. LARITA JANAE’S ART

What they sell: Painted artwork and screen printed t-shirts featuring hijabi art.

Why I love this business:  This sister has some bold and funky paintings I could totally see on the walls in my daughter’s room. Her t-shirts are colorful, artsy and full of personality--a wonderful combination. At only $15, you can’t beat that!

How to buy: Visit her Storenvy shop and follow her on Instagram.

7. THREE KINGS AND A QUEEN

What they sell: Cute and empowering t-shirts and bags for babies, kids, and women.

Why I love this business: This sister has four young children, two of which are twins, and she’s still on her grind. I love that her business is inspired by and named after her children. What a way to set an example for your children AND make money on your own terms. Respect!

How to buy: Visit her on Facebook and Instagram. 

8. ANKARA KOUTURE

What they sell: Handmade modern jewelry with African prints, body jewelry, belly chains, loc/hair jewelry

Why I love this business: This is another sister who stays on the grind. She has young children and still churns out beautiful body art in bold and refreshing styles. A lot of head-turners in her collection. And to make sure it gets their by Eid, she offers a rush delivery option. 

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow on Instagram

9. CREATIVE MOTIVATIONS

What they sell: Islamic and homeschooling learning aids, organizational charts

Why I love this business: This sister has thought of a chart or learning aid for everything! Her products are just right for anyone looking to get more order in their home and/or in their Islamic educational activities. She’s also got some cool free printables!

How to buy: Visit her on her website and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

10. YARN COTURE

What they sell: Handmade crochet items, hats, gloves, hand towels, earrings, scarves and more

Why I love this business: I love details, and you can really see the time she puts into her pieces. All the little fancy designs on the edges, I love that! I also love that she offers nontraditional crochet items like dish cloths, facial towels, and shower puffs. Her barefoot sandals are to die for, and I’m a sucker for a nice knit cap. 

How to buy: Visit her on Etsy and follow her on Instagram. 

11. EGGS BY WARDAH

What they sell: Hand painted eggs for home decor 

Why I love this business: I can honestly say that I’ve never wanted a hand painted ostrich egg until now. What I would do with such a thing, I’m not even sure, but I’ll figure that out once I get one! They are absolutely gorgeous. Look at the detail. Amazing!

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow her on Instagram. 

12. IMAGINAIRY ART

What they sell: Eid and Ramadan cards and posters.

Why I love this business: I love the color and whimsy of the designs. They’re a little Dr. Seuss-ish, and I mean that in the best possible way!

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow her on Instagram.

13. LITTLE WINGS GALLERY

What they sell: Contemporary Islamic art prints and designs.

Why I love this business: Im certain if Martha Stewart were Muslims, this is what her products would look like. The designs are so clean and fresh. Simple but not at all plain. Many of her designs are printable, so all you need is a quality printer and you’re good to go! Last but not least, she donates $1 from every sale to charity.

How to buy: Visit her Etsy store and follow her on Instagram.

14. AR-RAWDAH JEWELS

What they sell: Handmade hand chains, head chains, hijab pins and earrings.

Why I love this business: The hand chains are my favorite. I love how delicate and feminine they are. I also love the hijab pin cushions. Practical and cute!

How to buy: Visit their Etsy shop and follow them on Instagram. 

15. FATIMA FASIH WATERCOLORS

What they sell: Handmade watercolor paintings and Arabic calligraphy.

Why I love this business: .There is something special about watercolors. They’re so light and airy. These paintings are not only beautiful, but they are also storied. They give voice to the subjects. It is clear she has a connection to the things she paints. 

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow her on Facebook and Instagram. 

16. HUEZ UNLIMITED

What they sell: Handmade paper cutout Arabic calligraphy home decor and bookmarks.

Why I love this business: What’s not to love? These breathtaking, delicate designs are hand cut. Unbelievable! They are also customizable. A great wedding/anniversary gift. I’d love to put these in my children’s room.

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow her on Instagram and Facebook.

17. ILM KIDS PLACE

What they sell: Homeschooling Islamic studies activities and crafts.  

Why I love this business: It’s Islamic education in a box! Convenient and educational. I know my children would love this. She has Ramadan-themed boxes, Eid-themed boxes, Prophet Muhammad-themed boxes and more. She also offers a subscription service for those who want the boxes delivered regularly. 

How to buy: Visit her website and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

18. EMAN EFFECTS

What they sell: Artistic Arabic calligraphy prints and cards. 

Why I love this business: I’m a huge fan of Arabic calligraphy in general, but she takes it to the next level with her artwork. The world map design is giving me life in a major way! When you spend $25, use coupon code EID10 for 10% off!

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow her on Facebook. 

19. NUAFRICA GREETINGS

What they sell: Greeting cards, t-shirts and totes with New African flair. 

Why I love this business: This sister creates images that speak directly to me and my experience as a Black American Muslim woman. I can see myself and my daughter in her work. What more could I ask for?

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop, her website, and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

20. LIZA GARZA

What they sell: Statement-piece jewelry--earrings, bracelets, necklaces and more.

Why I love this business: I have followed this sister’s poetry for years but only recently became aware of her jewelry. It is just as expressive and creative as her spoken word. I love the bold imagery. A pair of earrings with grenades on them? Yes, please! 

How to buy: Visit her website and follow her on Instagram and Facebook. 

21. OLIVE TREE SOAP CO.

What they sell: Handcrafted artisan soaps, natural deodorant, lip balm, body butters and more.

Why I love this business:  These products look like they smell heavenly, and the presentation is calling my name. She’s got some hair and beard wash for the brothers and some natural deodorant I can’t wait to try!

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and her website, and follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. 

22. BOABW HOUSE

What they sell: Hand painted earrings

Why I love this business: These earrings have beautiful messages of self-love and are definitely for those who want to stand out in a crowd! Use coupon code INFINITY to get 17% off purchase.

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and her website, and follow her on Facebook.

23. THE REMINDER SERIES

What they sell: Handmade Islamic canvases, calligraphy art, cards, journals, prints, candles and other sweet nothings. 

Why I love this business: Aside from being beautiful, her pieces carry reminders of the mercy and splendor of Allah (swt). Who doesn’t need that in their life?

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and her website, and follow her on Facebook. 

24. WITH A SPIN

What they sell: Islamic-themed cookie cutters.

Why I love this business: I can only imagine how excited my children would be to make cookies in these Muslimy shapes. I know I would feel so accomplished. I would be flexing on Instagram so hard. 

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and her Amazon page. Check out her website. 

25. NOOR SEW MODEST

What they sell: Handmade Muslim dolls, toys, and clothes. .

Why I love this business: I love that these dolls are so wholesome and cute. They look like they stepped out of Little House on the Prairie. Have something specific in mind? She’ll make a custom doll for your little one  Use coupon code RAMADAN15 to get 15% off your purchase. 

How to buy: Visit her Etsy shop and follow her on Facebook. 

I hope you found some nice things on this list. Didn’t see your favorite store? No worries. Send me their info so we can include them in the next one!