In very recent times it seems that news about violence against Muslim women is everywhere. I was recently directed to a Boston Globe article entitled The Islamist War on Muslim Women by Jeff Jacoby. He describes the many recent incidents of violence, leading to death, against Muslim women in Muslim countries as well as in the West. Reading through it my stomach started turning with disgust. Of course I was disgusted by all the acts of violence against Muslim women. How dare men think they can hurt or kill women? Those horrible Muslim men and those horrible Muslims for allowing it to happen!

But wait a minute! My dad is a Muslim man, my brother is a Muslim man, and hey, so are my grandfather and my uncles and they’ve NEVER laid a hand on a woman. And, oh my! I’m a Muslim woman and I’ve never felt threatened by a Muslim man. And so my anger started to grow. And as I re-read the article I began to dissect why I was feeling angry.

First let’s look at the title - The Islamist War on Muslim Women. At this point the (over)use of the word ‘war’ to describe antagonism is just plain auctorial laziness. This word has been used and re-used, and used yet again by writers of all kinds. The word's relation to the term terror (as in War on Terror) has already been linked to Muslims. Now by utilizing this word here it further creates an aura of fear and antagonism toward Muslims, especially Muslim men.

Jacoby asserts that "(b)y Western standards, the subjugation of women by Muslim fanatics, and the sometimes pathological Islamist obsession with female sexuality, are unthinkable." Unthinkable? Really? Has he watched any American porn lately? Subjugation galore. There may not be Muslim fanatics doing the subjugating in those movies but some man (men) is (are). And I think Maxim, Playboy, FHM, etc. and their popularity (to the point that I even know about them) demonstrate excellent examples of Western obsession with female sexuality. Subjugation of women and obsession with female sexuality is not exclusive to any one part of the world - every culture has some form of both.

Jacoby then continues to list examples of how such "subjugation of women by Muslim fanatics" and "Islamist obsession with female sexuality" have lead to violence and death of Muslim women. Again, no doubt they have. And I will be the first to admit that I hate the Muslim men who commit such acts against Muslim women and treat women as sexual beings. But belief in the subjugation of women and an oversexualizing of women is often related to violence against women in most cultures, including countries in which Muslims are not the majority. Rape has often been related to the images in porn in which women appear to be forced into having sex. Men who buy into this image are more likely to rape.

However, my biggest complaint is Jacoby's assumption that the global Muslim community is compliant and passive when it comes to violence against women.

In relation to recent internationally publicized cases Jacoby states that "(t)he sparing of these women was very welcome news, of course, and it was not coincidental that each case had triggered an international furor. But for every "Qatif girl" or Nazanin who is saved, there are far too many other Muslim girls and women for whom deliverance never comes." He further states "No international furor saved Aqsa Parvez, a Toronto teenager, whose father was charged on Dec. 11 with strangling her to death because she refused to wear a hijab. "

No doubt many Muslim women face violence and fear of death every day. I do not minimize this nor can I deny this. Yes, many Muslim women are beaten every day and many killed. And yes many of them are for issues that appear to be related to Islam, or some twisted interpretation. But this does not mean, as Jacoby seems to be implying, that unless international attention is given to victimized women these women are doomed. This implies that no Muslims are trying to help women in these countries. This implies that Muslims only work to help their women when the international community tells them to do so. After all, helping women could not come intuitively to Muslims. Not only does Jacoby paint the picture of the passive and helpless Muslim woman, but he paints a picture of a passive, helpless, and indeed indifferent global Muslim community. This is an insult to Muslims all over, especially those who have dedicated their lives to helping, saving, and empowering Muslim women in all parts of the world.

For instance, the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA) has been working for Afghani women's right since 1977. Over the years they have been threatened and intimidated by various groups and governments and yet continued their brave work. Pakistan has many organizations and human rights workers aiming to help and empower women. One of the most prominent is human rights lawyer and activist Asma Jahangir. Living under constant death threats for angering some victimizer or other, this woman keeps fighting for the rights of not only Muslim women, but also minorities, children, and other marginalized people. She helped in the formation of the Women's Action Forum (WAF), one of many women's organizations in Pakistan which also include the Aurat Foundation, the War Against Rape (WAR) organization, Sahil (for abuse and exploitation of children), and Simorgh Women's Resource and Publication Centre. Finally, Women Living Under Muslim Laws (WLUML) was formed in 1984 and is "an international solidarity network that provides information, support and a collective space for women whose lives are shaped, conditioned or governed by laws and customs said to derive from Islam. " They recognize that not all Muslim women are the same nor are their needs the same. They hope to aid in the struggle many Muslim women face in trying to gain equality. They have offices in Senegal, Pakistan, and England. Besides these organizations, there are associations of Muslim women fighting for other Muslim women all over the Muslim world, located in Iran, Saudi Arabia, Europe, North America, etc.

Although sincere help from international organizations can prove to be very positive for many Muslim women, making the assertion that domestic attempts are not being made to help women living in Muslim countries is an insulting and patronizing assumption. Jacoby, as well as the many others who speak of the terrible conditions of Muslim women in Muslim countries (and even in the West), seem to believe that Muslim women are helpless and passive and Muslim men indifferent (note that WAR in Pakistan includes both men and women).

Mr. Jacoby may need to re-assess his assertions. By making the assumptions he does he clearly states that the West is superior and the Muslim world inferior. I thought we were past the days of such ethnocentric assertions.

This post continues my look at the portrayal of Muslim women in young adult fiction.

Marina Budhos is not a Muslim. She is not an immigrant. But the daughter of an Indo-Guyanese father and a Jewish-American mother, Budhos has had a strong interest in the stories of immigrant teenagers. Her book Ask Me No Questions: A Novel, published in 2006 by Atheneum, explores the story of Nadira, a 14-year-old Muslim girl who is an undocumented immigrant from Bangladesh.

The book is one in the recent trend of female Muslim characters as sympathetic protagonists, especially ones outside the Orientalist fantasy of what Muslim women and their families are like.

Nadira Hossein is 14 years old and the biggest problem of her life is that she and her family are in the United States illegally; the government has caught on, and they face possible deportation. The plot of the book is driven by politics, but it is clear that Nadira’s family faces increased problems because they are Muslim and from a Muslim country.

Budhos wrote the book not as a “problem novel,” she said in an interview on the podcast If You’re Just Joining Us, but instead as a work of “psychological depth.” Budhos sought to explore the different types of invisibility, including emotional invisibility that Nadira faces, not just as an undocumented immigrant, a Bangladeshi, or a Muslim but also as a younger sister outshone by her sister, Aisha.

Budhos’s characters are Muslim, but she is not. According to this transcript, her grandfather converted his Indian family to Christianity, and there’s no indication that Budhos is anything other than Christian and/or Jewish. This may be undesirable to some Muslim readers, but as a writer Budhos does not paint Islam with an Orientalist or negative tone. In describing the religious Ali-Uncle, Budhos writes, “Ma says Ali-Uncle is like a guardian angel. He watches over others and makes sure we are safe from harm” (33). In the podcast interview, Budhos noted that writing about a Bangladeshi family was not a stretch for her, being familiar with South Asia and having lived in neighboring West Bengal, but she checked with a Bangladeshi friend to confirm the cultural authenticity of the book.

The child of an immigrant father but herself American-born, Budhos has frequently written about immigrants. Her books include the nonfiction Remix: Conversations with Immigrants Teenagers (1999) and novels about the intersection of cultures. It is easy to fall into standard molds of what immigrants are like, but Budhos manages to avoid this. One of the archetypes of am immigrant family is conservative parents who battle with their children over limits. I’m not saying this doesn’t happen in immigrant or even non-immigrant families, but that’s not what this book is about. The mold-breaking characters are best shown in this passage:

“The first time Aisha came home crying from grade school because the kids were making fun of her head scarf, Ma said firmly, ‘Don’t wear it then.’ Ma got a lot of flak from her friends for that and for other choices she made with Aisha, like letting her go on an overnight trip to Washington, D.C. ‘Let them peck like old chickens,’ Abba laughed. ‘We know who we are.’” (109)

Nadira’s parents seem relatively liberal with how they raise their daughter (in another example, her father shocks his friends by taking his daughter, then younger, to a public swimming pool to teach her to swim). At the same time, it does not feel like they are acting “Americanized.” The Bangladeshi component of Nadira’s culture is never forgotten. Rather, it seems that the idea “We know who we are” is ingrained in her parents. It’s refreshing to see characters who neither conform to stereotype of conservative, strict immigrants or that of immigrants who throw away their cultural identity to become American. And for the record, although no one is noted as wearing hijab, it is clear that Nadira, Aisha, and her mother do not.

One of the unfortunate aspects of the book is its cover. The original artwork (see first photo) shows the eye of a girl peering out through a quadrilateral-shaped opening in a blackness that fills the rest of the cover. Although it may have been intended to reflect the invisibility Nadira feels, it more easily resembles a niqab — a contradiction to the anti-Orientalist content of the book. Luckily, a newer edition of the book (shown left) shows a teenage girl with shoulder-length hair, dressed in a bluish-gray shirt.

It’s interesting how Budhos and her characters play off stereotypes of immigrant Muslim families. Nadira’s sister, Aisha, uses her “old-fashioned” parents who “don’t want [her] going out so much” as an excuse to quit the debate team. Nadira is horrified by “this big fat lie” (109). But the success of the lie points to the prevalence of this image of Asian families. In another example, Budhos contrasts the image of Muslim girls with the reality of Nadira and her sister. One of Aisha’s teachers says, “I’ve seen this happen before with the Muslim kids. I push those girls—they’re so bright. Then one day they come in with a head scarf, and they say their marriage has been arranged and they’re not going to college after all. Everything down the tubes, just like that” (112). This is not the story for Nadira and her sister. The biggest threats to their college education are their questionable immigration status and their lack of money to pay the high tuition costs. Never does sexism hold them back from education.

Throughout the book are strong female characters. Aisha is introduced already on the second page as confident and ambitious, with parents who are clearly proud of her:

“Aisha always knew that she wanted to a doctor going to Harvard Medical School. Even back in Dhaka she could ace her science and math exams, and when Abba was in Saudi Arabia working as a driver, he used to tape her reports to the windshield and boast about his daughter back home who could outdo all the boys.”

But Aisha isn’t the only strong female. Cousin Taslima is independent-minded and assertive. Even Nadira’s mother is noted for her “quick temper and high, wicked laugh” when Nadira’s father first falls in love with her. While the men are held in jail by the Immigration National Services, the women of the family run the household. This is not a book of quiet, submissive women who shuffle to meet their husband’s demands. Of course, defined gender roles exist, and some of the women and men are reprimanded for not following or enforcing them: “Daughters are not daughters, and wives don’t act like wives.” Patriarchy is inescapable, as it is in American culture. But women stand out as driving forces in the story. Although the men stand as heads of household, while they are detained it is the wives and daughters who must act to save their families.

Although this is Budhos’s first young adult book, she succeeds in the genre. Budhos uses clear, poetic prose that makes for a compelling read. The use of present tense and reference to current events (Homeland Security, Patriot Act, Code Orange) keep the story urgent, and at 159 pages in length the book never grows tiresome. Perhaps it’s because of Budhos’s choice to not dumb down her vocabulary or sentence structure for young adults, but narrator Nadira’s words hold a maturity beyond her 14 years:

“You have a family, and you go around thinking it’s always one way. Ever since I could remember, Aisha was the star we pinned our future on. It’s as if Ma and Abba were still in Bangladesh riding in a flat bottomed boat in the night, and Aisha was the magic girl who lived above the dark tree branches and lit the way, leading us down the complicated bends. Now all the stars are no more than rubber stickers pasted on a ceiling; they’ve come unfastened and they’re whirling around one another, not sure which will settle where.” (137)

Appropriately chosen by the American Library Association as one of the best books for young adults, Ask Me No Questions is a novel worth reading purely for literary merit. But it’s also notable for its inclusion of sympathetic Muslim characters who do not adhere to stereotypes.

Ask Me No Questions is not an “Islamic book.” Before anything, Nadira is defined by her immigration status, not her religion. She notes that her parents do not pray every day, like their friend Uncle-Ali. They fast and observe Ramadan and other holidays. Some Muslims may not consider this Muslim enough and thus wonder if the book really is about American Muslims. It’s certainly not as overtly Muslim as Does My Head Look Big in This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah, which centers around the character’s Muslimness. However, Nadira and her family identify as Muslim, are viewed by the U.S. government as Muslim, and should be considered Muslim characters, even though they do not pray five times a day. I hope that this does not lessen their credibility as representatives of Islam but instead shows that diversity exists within the Muslim identity.

By now it seems there is no one who has not heard of Facebook. This ‘social utility’ as they call it has become so popular that people of all backgrounds are taking part, creating their profiles, adding lots and lots of friends, and joining various groups with others of similar interests. To me joining groups on Facebook has become a way to identify oneself; a way to tell people “Look, this is who I am. I’m a (Aquarius, woman, Muslim, etc, etc).” And it has become a safe way, or so we think, of voicing our opinions.

Since I've joined I've noticed many Muslim groups on Facebook. Just typing in a search for groups with the word Muslim in it comes up with over 500 groups. Type in 'Muslim women' and result is similar - over 500 groups. It seems many Muslim women are using Facebook to express themselves in many ways. There are groups for niqabis, for hijabis, for non-hijabis (shout out to my sistas), for Muslim feminists (another shout out), for Black Muslim women, for Turkish Muslim women, for Muslim women artists, sporty Muslim women, business Muslim women, for fighting violence against Muslim women, and on and on. There is even one for those who love bad Muslim women ('I Love Bad Muslim Girls') and one for hot Muslim women ('I Love Hot Muslim Girls !!!!' - exclamation marks theirs, not mine).

This is a medium in which Muslim women can control the way they are portrayed. They themselves can choose how they want the world to see them. Many are trying to debunk the stereotypes about Muslim women, stereotypes both outside and within the Muslim community.

There are numerous groups which defend the hijab and/or the niqab stating that it is their choice and that they are not oppressed. These groups create a safe space for women who wear the hijab and/or niqab (and others who support them) to share their experiences, connect with others like them, and mold their own image. They are taking control

The role of women in the Islamic World has and will continue to be percieved (sic) as a role where Muslim women are treated unfairly and are inferior to men. There are many reasons why many people around the world who may not be Muslim believe that women are inferior to men in Islam and are in many situations oppressed and unhappy with thier (sic) lives. This main objective of this group is to educate those who may not know much about the role of women in Islam. (from 'Islamic Women Are Respected, Not Oppressed')



Such groups seem to be working well to create unity among Muslim women. Personally, I have met some amazing Muslim women on Facebook who I never would have met otherwise. But the differences among Muslim women have also become very obvious as well. It seems as much as we have in common, we also have in difference. After all, there are over 500 groups for Muslim women.

Of course we could easily say that this is expected. After all, Muslim women are very diverse and a diversity of opinion is natural and to be expected. Being exposed to people of differing opinions has many advantages. So much can be learned and minds can be expanded when one listens to those with differing opinions than one's own. However, very often when it comes to Islam, differing opinions seem to lead to arguments, and sometimes irreconcilable disagreements. It may create a sense of dis-unity among Muslim women. And I suppose it would be naive to assume that all Muslim women feel a sisterhood with other Muslim women. But put Muslim women in an electronic forum where they feel safer, behind the 'veil' of the computer, voicing their opinions and you are bound to find disagreements, arguments, and perhaps even hostility. However, is it not just as important to know how and where people disagree with you as it is to have support in your opinion? By having others disagree, and by knowing how, why, and where they disagree, we have a lot to learn about our own positions. It forces us to educate ourselves on our own opinion.

Muslim women are as diverse a group as any. To deny that would be denying the obvious. Facebook has provided an opportunity to demonstrate this diversity. However, I really hope that the opportunity to expand our minds, learn about Muslim women from backgrounds, opinions, ideologies different than ours does not pass us by. Muslim women, in their own voices, are telling us about themselves. We should all listen to each other.

If you’re looking for Muslim teenagers in young adult fiction, you’ll be hard-pressed to find many good examples. There are plenty of Orientalist novels about exotic Muslim girls in distant lands. A standard example is the narrator of Shabanu: Daughter of the Wind (Suzanne Fisher Staples, 1991), who at age 13 is forced into marriage with a man over 50 who already has three wives. Western Muslim women don’t fare much better. Until recently, Jehran of Caroline B. Cooney’s The Terrorist (1999) represented the role of a Muslim woman in young adult fiction: the antagonist, who, abused by her family, is driven to murder.

Does My Head Look Big in This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah represents the new trend: Muslim protagonists who aren’t terrorists. Abdel-Fattah’s book has to be the most overtly Muslim book that exists in young adult fiction.

The book, published in 2005 by Scholastic, is the story of 16-year-old Amal, an Australian-Palestinian who struggles with standard high school drama, in the context of being a Muslim girl who has recently adopted the hijab. The original cover art shows the face of a girl in a maroon hijab. She is looking up with a slightly raised eyebrow. Instead of glamorizing her by turning her hijab into a niqab and adding dark eyeliner and eye shadow (as done to the protagonist of this book), the publisher chose a cute and friendly cover, scattered with brightly colored circles. It’s even reminiscent of the cover of this lighthearted read. Amal’s hijab isn’t played up to sell books.

So, before anything, masha’Allah! Muslim teenage girls are finally represented in young adult/teen fiction. Not as terrorists. Not as child brides. Instead, they’re average high school girls. Author Randa Abdel-Fattah takes this responsibility seriously and she tries to tackle every issue facing Muslim teen girls. That’s where she trips.

It’s understandable that Abdel-Fattah would have a lot to achieve in a book like this. She takes on the hijab (the decision to go from non-hijabi to full-time hijabi, the reactions, the consequences), the image of Islam in the context of modern-day terrorism, boys and dating, culture vs. Islam, sexism within the Muslim community, racism, Islamophobia, prayer and wudu, fasting, and being the lone Muslim in an upper-class Australian prep school. It’s a lot to cover, and Abdul-Fattah has 360 pages to do it, but often her attempts to address the topics come off rather heavy-handed. It’s that she has stereotypes to break, and she will break them, damn it.

The book is awash with spelled-out stereotype-breaking. It is stated repeatedly that Amal was not forced to wear the hijab. Her school principal, a rather two-dimensional character, even suggests her parents make her wear it, so that Amal can explicitly state, “No, I made this choice.” The idea of a Muslim woman as “oppressed” is repeatedly mocked. It’s clear that Abdel-Fattah set out with the goal of destroying Muslim stereotypes. The goal in and of itself isn’t a problem; it’s the way Abdel-Fattah achieves it that is.

Here’s a description of narrator Amal’s old (Islamic) school:

“Where they indoctrinate students and teach them how to form Muslim ghettos, where they train with Al-Qaeda for school camp and sing national anthems from the Middle East. NOT!” (12)

Simply describing how wonderful the school is, which Abdel-Fattah does, would be sufficient to get her point across, but she goes beyond this to describe the stereotypes and tack on “NOT.” This can interfere the readability of the story. In an other example, an awkwardly stilted dialogue ensues for the sole purpose of assuring readers that Amal does not wear her hijab in the shower (“Helps with the conditioning treatment” ([45]), when the explanation that she takes it off at home already suffices. A smaller attempt to break stereotypes is the author’s note that Amal has light hair and green eyes; Amal explains that people are surprised by her appearance once they know her name. It’s certainly valid for Abdel-Fattah to note that not all Muslims or Arabs are “swarthy and dark-eyed,” as stereotyped. Ironically, the cover shows Amal not with green eyes but dark brown. Clearly some stereotypes have yet to be broken.

Amal describes her reaction to the terrorist bombings in Bali as a combination of horrified sadness for the victims and outrage that would be associated with her religion, her faith, her God. Amal says, “These people are aliens to my faith” (250). I’d say most Muslims can agree with this statement and relate to her reaction, whether in terms of the Bali incident, September 11th, the Sudanese teddy bear incident, or Aqsa Parvez’s murder. The visibility of Islam is so frequently so negative that it forces Muslims into the awkward position of having to explain themselves, simply for being Muslim, every time.

Unfortunately, Abdel-Fattah’s view of what is a Muslim is strictly defined. First of all, there’s the huge emphasis on the hijab. Half of the plot focuses on Amal’s decision to wear the hijab, the reactions she receives, and how it changes her behavior. Granted, the hijab is a large part of many Muslim women’s lives and all the issues Amal raises (“What will my classmates think?” “Dare I go on the subway alone?”) are realistic and specific, but the author spends less time on Amal’s reasons for wearing hijab. In fact, Amal spells it out like this: “I’m doing it because it’s my duty and defines me as Muslim female” (52). Exactly why this is a “duty” is never explored. Amal explains it as “modesty” and falls to the clichéd dichotomy of hijab or scanty clothing. Modesty is an odd way to explain the hijab when Amal focuses so much time on makeup and new clothes in order to impress boys. The irony is never questioned. She does have a close Muslim friend, Yasmeen, who doesn’t wear the hijab, but any reader unfamiliar with the hijab debate within the Muslim community could easily assume that Amal’s viewpoint — that the hijab is the initiation into “universal sisterhood” (28) — is the last word on hijab. This is rather off-putting to those of us who consider ourselves members of the sisterhood of Islam — without covering our heads.

I’ve browsed commentary on the book at sites such as Amazon and LibraryThing. The majoity of the response indicates that the novel’s main readers are non-Muslim, although the book has been read by Muslim women seeking to find a portrayal of their experiences growing up the West. In the novel, Amal rants about being seen as the “walking ambassador” of Islam because she is the only Muslim at her school (156). Ironically, outside the book the character carries this same responsibility, because she is the most visibly Muslim narrator of any young adult novel. Abdel-Fattah wittingly or unwittingly defines through Amal what it means to be Muslim. For Amal, Islam involves wearing hijab and abstaining from romantic relationships until marriage. Anything less is presented as against her beliefs. These are pretty mainstream Islamic ideas, but they may leave the non-Muslim reader with the firm belief that no “real” Muslim ever considers dating or sees hijab as not obligatory.

Nevertheless, Amal does break other stereotypes. She’s a Muslim teenager and she watches Sex in the City. She has a mad crush on her classmate Adam, showing that Muslims are in fact not asexual! It’s interesting to see how Abdel-Fattah handles the conflicting forces within Amal: she is intensely attracted to Adam (from forearm lust to his personality), but she does not believe any romantic relationship is appropriate outside marriage.

For a book that’s a “journey of faith” as the dust jacket advertises, there’s a lack of clear spirituality. Amal goes through the actions of religion; she prays, she fasts, she wears hijab, and she doesn’t shy from explaining her beliefs to her classmates. But it’s hard to see her spiritual connection with God, to understand her actions as anything more meaningful than rote motions. The most helpful moment is when Amal explains to her crush Adam that praying is like taking a timeout in soccer. Nowhere else does Amal hint at what prayer or faith actually mean to her. Sport analogies, though, fall short of spiritual significance. Perhaps it’s just not for this genre. The prose is hardly poetic, and one of the most vivid descriptions is of Adam’s bulging forearm. As put by one Amazon reviewer, “For the Muslim reader looking for an ‘emaan lifter’, look elsewhere.” Islam is described in terms of daily actions, but there’s nothing inspiring about it.

Littered with painfully stilted dialogue, far too many references to shallow materialism (Amal learns that color-coordinating her hijab with her shoes and bag is essential), and moments when the book plods on without a plot, Does My Head Look Big in This? is no literary gem. The writing is too immature for a typical teenage audience. Especially in the first half it easily passes as mediocre fluff reading — “chick lit” if you like.

In the second half more serious themes are addressed. Amal’s friend Leila faces unfair treatment at home. Her mother, clinging to tradition she learned growing up in a village in Turkey, criticizes Leila for focusing on school. Leila is introduced to man after man, all in her mother’s attempt to marry her off at age 16. While Leila is told off for being a “bad girl” for studying and not doing enough housework, her brother entertains scantily-clad girlfriends, goes to bars, and returns home intoxicated on alcohol and marijuana. Unlike Leila, he is not forbidden from going out at night or even punished for his behavior.

It’s commendable of Abdel-Fattah to bring up issues such as this, instead of painting the entire Muslim community as as progressive as Amal’s parents. Here Amal faces the same issue covered in a recent post; how can she help her friend without making Islam into the culprit? She hesitates over telling her non-Muslim friend about the situation: “I’m worried that she’ll think, Oh, typical Muslim nutjobs. Locking their girls up in the house” (297). Her clarification that culture is not Islam (“And they don’t tell me it’s a Muslim story. They don’t tell me it’s a Turkish story. They understand it is a Leila story” (301) and “she’s following her village’s culture, not Islam” (89)) is again a bit heavy-handed; it’s too clear that Abdel-Fattah wants to make the distinction. I appreciate that Abdel-Fattah doesn’t ignore sexism and oppression within the Muslim community. This is even more relevant with the recent story of Aqsa Parvez.

If there were a hundred books about Muslim teenagers, Does My Head Look Big in This? would not be the one book I’d recommend. Abdel-Fattah’s writing could do with serious editing for length and quality. She lacks the skill of subtlety: messages like “Show kindness even to the grouchy old lady next door” hit the reader with the subtlety of a sledgehammer and the predictable storyline makes foreshadowing useless. The fluffiness can grow tiresome. And there’s the fact Amal defines her understanding of Islam in black and white terms.

Unfortunately, the hundred books about Muslim teenagers do not exist. Does My Head Look Big in This? is what we have, the only book to cover so many issues of Western Muslim teenagers. And, despite its flaws, the book succeeds in one of its very important goals: normalizing Muslim girls. Here is Amal. She’s not a “fanatic,” she’s not a terrorist, and she doesn’t lead a life of misery and abuse. She’s just a teenage girl, dealing with standard high school problems — but she navigates them her own Islamic way.

(Note: Randa Abdel-Fattah has come out with a second book featuring a Muslim teenager, Ten Things I Hate About Me (2006). Not yet available in the United States, this novel focuses on the protagonist’s identity as a Lebanese-Australian.)

This past week the death of Pakistani-Canadian teen, Aqsa Parvez, has been in the news in Canada. This terrible tragedy has made headlines because of the nature of her death – she was strangled to death by her own father in their Mississauga, Ontario home. Before I say anymore I would like to pray that God bless her soul and grant her paradise. Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon (meaning: Verily we belong to Allah, and to Allah we return). I would also like to join the many other voices out there that have absolutely, under no uncertain terms, condemned this horrific murder. May she rest in peace.

Aqsa, a Muslim girl of 16, was said to have had trouble with her family. The reports from her friends demonstrate that there was a large rift between herself and her parents. According to news reports, her parents wanted her to dress in what they felt was proper Islamic attire, whereas she wanted to wear more Western style clothing and integrate with her non-Pakistani, non-Muslim friends. It appears that her family had a great deal of trouble with this and the result was the tragedy of her murder.

When we speak of Islamic dress the piece of clothing which gets the most attention is the hijab. Many have reported that the arguments between Aqsa and her family were often about the hijab as Aqsa, who at one point wore the hijab, had decided to remove it. Her family wanted her to wear it.

The media of course has been all over this case and all over the hijab. I cannot blame them though. Anytime a parent kills their child it does tend to make the news. However, the hyper focus on the hijab has been frustrating. Just some of the articles include Girl, 16, dies after hijab dispute with father, Father says killed daughter in hijab case , Dad charged after daughter killed in clash over hijab. This is especially frustrating as at this point we are not clear on the motive. Disagreements on Islamic clothing as motive are only speculations based on accounts by Aqsa’s friends. However, most media stories have appeared to focus mainly on the Islamic clothing, namely hijab, issue. One article in The National Post even has as, its picture, the eyes of a niqabi woman, even though the niqab has not once been mentioned in this whole tragedy. Not to mention that this particular story is entitled The deadly face of Muslim extremism. The content of the article focuses on the messages being given to Muslims about the proper attire for a Muslim woman, and although they make some relevant points, the argument is lacking and the title inaccurate. Such titles only work to further reinforce a fear of those "crazy Muslims." The article furthers this fear by stating that the messages in mosques are the cause of such acts. Although one may say that the messages about proper female attire may be questionable, I think insinuating that mosques condone killing one's children if they do not conform is a dangerous and inaccurate accusation.

From the news reports it would appear that the main reason Aqsa was killed and the main reason there was a clash between her and her family was that she did not dress Islamically enough for her family. Obviously, as this is the only lead the media has, they are taking it and running with it. And I have no doubts that this indeed was a point of argument in her home. However, this, to me, seems to be an insufficient and shallow explanation. Additionally, this focus may take away from another problem which may be more relevant and which the media has shed some light on - that of cultural integration of immigrant parents and their children and cultural clashes which result.

Television commercials and print ads have fascinated me for some time as these messages are not there to entertain or teach, but to manipulate the people into mass consumerism. As someone who is being schooled to analyze all messages critically, I find myself hyper-aware of the messages we receive through advertisements. In order to be successful, however, the messages must resonate with the masses, reflecting what they feel, desire, and crave, bringing them into the message, as if they themselves were driving the car or eating the burger.
I realize there is a definite lack of Muslim women in advertisements in the West. Heck, there is a definite lack of Muslims in general. As the oh-so-funny Iranian-American comedian Maz Jobrani says: "You'll never see me saying 'Come fly the friendly skies'."

However, there is one venue for commercials with Muslims in them - the ethnic slots on local channels. In Canada, very often on the weekends, one can catch a variety of ethnic programs, including ones for Muslim audiences, whether those be of a religious nature or a cultural one. I remember one particular commercial which erked me long before I was conscious of the messages these images send. This particular commercial was one for halal meat products. It depicted a very happy Muslim family, at home, having a halal meal consisting mainly of products from the company for who the commercial was made. This seems fairly benign. A Muslim family, eating and enjoying each others company in the comfort and privacy of their own homes. However, one unusual thing jumped out at me about this family. Something didn't fit. It was the hijab on the mother's head! I couldn't understand why she was wearing a hijab. I mean, she was at home with her husband and children. Only her husband and children. If one believes that the hijab is obligatory one surely knows it is not needed in the presence of one’s husband and children! Why was she wearing the hijab???

The message to me was clear – a Muslim woman must cover her head even if she is playing a mother in her home alone with her children and husband. This to me was similar to the criticisms I heard of the Little Mosque on the Prairie husband and wife characters Yaser and Sarah when they were portrayed showing affection toward one another in public. “How dare she touch her husband’s ass in public? If Muslims are being depicted on television, they damn well better be behaving like ‘good,’ ‘pure,’ and ‘proper’ Muslims.” A bit preachy if you ask me – and not to mention unrealistic!

In my opinion, depicting Muslims engaging in lusty or affectionate behaviour, or depicting Muslim women, heads uncovered, in the privacy of their homes, aides in the process of ‘normalizing’ us. After all, is this not how we behave? Do Muslim couples not show affection toward each other in public? Can our heads not be left uncovered in our homes even?* Or must we portray this façade of ‘virginal purity’ and display our modesty (or at least one version of it) at all times? Muslim women do show their hair with reckless abandon. Even those who wear the hijab have their hijab-less moments in the privacy of their homes. Why must we shove morality, or at least one particular version of it, in everyone’s faces?

*To clarify, I am of the belief that our heads can be left uncovered anywhere, anytime.