Photography and interview by Samra Habib
Who: Samira, Toronto
I was born in Tehran, Iran. I have very faint memories from that time, some I would like to erase and some are irretrievable. I can tell you however that there were always people over at our house and there were always lively debates happening, usually centred around world affairs and politics. My parents ingrained in me a deep appreciation for social and political justice; from a very young age.
My parents' relationship with Islam is tainted and tumultuous; revolution and the establishment of an Islamic republic in Iran has coloured their lens when they see Islam, and all religions. For them Islam is coupled with hangings, executions, fascism, misogyny and political power. For them, Islam does not mean peace. But that was not always their relationship with the religion.
My last name is Mohyeddin, which means revivifier of religion and I am trying to live up to my last name but I am on my own revivification quest which is intertwined very much with carving a place for the queer community, not just in Islam but in my native Iran where homosexuality is still punishable by death.
Islam has always been at the centre of my life but not as a worshipper or someone who submits to anything or anyone else’s will. I am aware of how it has affected my life, both mentally and geographically. The Islamic revolution in Iran resulted in my leaving the country; the subsequent taking of American hostages by Iranians resulted in me being taken hostage by my class mates; the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, resulted in me having extra security measures in place when travelling to the United States. Again, all these things have happened to me as a result of other people’s perceptions of Muslims. Perhaps that is why I was so determined to not hide my sexuality and to live my life out loud; I want to smash peoples perceptions. For most people, I am not Muslim enough or at all and for others, I am not queer enough, whatever that even is.
I think that a lot of challenges queer Muslims face are also the same challenges Muslims face in general and a lot of that comes from other people's perceptions. Becoming a face or spokesperson for something is a challenge. There is not just one type of Islam yet the community is often painted with the same brush. I think the queer Muslim community needs to avoid falling into the trap of having to provide answers to questions that supply a unifying message. Diversity is our strength and we should nurture that.