(ANALYSIS) Sania Khan was murdered in Chicago by her ex-husband amid ongoing divorce proceedings on July 21, 2022. What was apparently a visit by her ex-partner Raheel to reconcile their relationship ended in a gruesome murder-suicide.

That same week, Alwiya Muhammad was also killed in what police believed to be a similar situation. The news hit me harder than I thought it would. As a woman, the ever-increasing stories of femicide not just in Pakistan but across the world over the last few years had led me to a sense of fatigue and emotional burnout.

As a Muslim-Pakistani woman who is also a journalist, I find myself unable to turn away from such news. In these cases, what set me off more is that, unlike previous instances of violence against women, where a certain amount of support and discussion helped me deal with the fear and anger that accompanies such news, Khan’s and Muhammad’s untimely deaths were met with silence. 

The exception was Muslim women scholars and organizations who took these horrific incidences as a reminder of the work that still needs to be done in Muslim communities to better protect women when they need it most.

These community leaders recognized that work needs to be done and that leaders should put out calls to action and counter harmful narratives in the community. This is a testament to how much work Muslim women scholars and community leaders are putting in day in and day out.

Khan’s story was particularly upsetting because Khan had worked up the courage to ask for help, only to be told her family members would kill themselves if she left her marriage. As news of the two women spread across the Muslim community, many women shared experiences of how religion was often used as a tool to silence them into “sabr” (patience), and yet the Female Scholar’s Network published a statement that demands the exact opposite — action.

The organization says that as Muslims, we have a spiritual responsibility to identify and counter abuse. More importantly, they value the experiences of Muslim women by delving deeper into matters of abuse beyond the physical aspect and attempt to understand the roots of the trauma that often alienates Muslim women from their own faith. Suppression of women across the world is a much more complex issue than just the act of violence itself, and for many Muslim women-led spaces, unpacking these experiences has become a key part of helping Muslim women engage with religious teachings. 

When Alizeh Omer first took a class at her local Madrasa in Lahore, Pakistan, many of her questions and concerns revolved around her own confusion at being unable to reconcile what she was taught under the guise of Islamic teachings and her own identity as a young woman in the 21st century with her social, political and financial freedoms.

“Most of us (in Pakistan) have had similar religious upbringings,” she shared. “In prominent Islamic institutes here, male voices are often the loudest, and that creates a distance between women and wanting to learn.” For many women like Omer, the emotional effort that comes with having to dig through interpretations of religion being weaponized against them can lead to spiritual burnout. 

On a more extreme note, this burnout is accompanied by a disconnect from faith, especially when abuse or trauma becomes connected to those experiences. In response to the protests in Iran, Shaykha Maryam Amir, a crucial voice within Islamic scholarship, posted about how justifying brutality and oppression against women in the name of Islam pushes people away from religion.

Women reciting the Quran

This isn’t the first time Amir has publicly commented on such issues. In fact, much of her public work revolves around engaging with issues of weaponizing Islam, engaging with social justice and reconciling current issues from an Islamic perspective. Amir is also the founder of the Qariah app, a platform that showcases female reciters of the Quran, many of whom have also learned the Quran by heart. The platform plays a key role in representation for Muslim women, who can now see other women like themselves having an active role in faith spaces. Amir has also shared another important motivation behind the platform. The scholar took to social media to point out how many women had approached her to tell her that as survivors of domestic and/or spiritual abuse, they are unable to listen to men reciting the Quran. Qariah provides an alternative to many of these women who otherwise may be unable to engage in a key act of worship. 

Aside from trauma, guilt and shame can also be accompanying factors to women’s journeys with Islam. Amina Ahmed’s interaction with Muslim women scholars started when she met Shaykha Leasha Prime at an NYU “Umrah” — a smaller pilgrimage to Mecca — trip in 2019. When speaking about her own experience with Islamic scholarship and spaces, Ahmed said, “Many of us give in to the shame and guilt and that prevents us from seeing the immense beauty, mercy and honor that Islam presents to women. We should never feel less than, so I think seeing more women in leadership roles in Islamic spaces can start the ball rolling to feeling like we matter,” adding specifically that the scholar changed how she felt about herself when she was menstruating and couldn’t pray. “She also spoke about how when women are menstruating, they are literally *worshipping* Allah by *not* praying salah. I was stunned at this statement and humbled by how harshly I had been treating myself feeling guilty for not praying during that time. She said that by following the command to avoid prayer, we are in a state of worship. This information opened a huge door of mercy for me in the kindness and careful thoughtfulness of Islam and of Allah.”

These interactions and subsequent exploration of gender issues in Islam have led Ahmed to be both inspired and disappointed by the state of her local community mosque, where she’s long been a member. They’ve also pushed her to learn Arabic so that she can feel empowered in learning more about parts of her own faith that are overlooked by male scholars. 

But not everyone knows about the existence of such spaces, and many are often surrounded by controversy as well. Many traditional Muslim women scholars find themselves caught between criticism from both Muslim feminists and traditional male-dominated spaces — and as a result, find themselves boxed in with little room to innovate or do more.

Sameera Qureshi, a sexual health educator and occupational therapist who runs Sexual Health For Muslims is no stranger to controversy simply because of the very essence of her work. Sexual health is a taboo topic in many Muslim communities, particularly when it comes to women’s sexuality and sexual health. As a professional working in the field of sexual health for over 12 years, Qureshi shared that starting this platform was a part of her own spiritual journey as a Muslim. 

“I realized this work needed to be done within Islamic discourse, educating about sexual health from that perspective. My goal is online sexual health for Muslims, starting from our traditions,” she said, adding, “As Muslims there’s too much of a focus on trying to change systems and structures, and there needs to be an understanding that those systems and structures are made of people, so we need to fix ourselves first.” 

Qureshi’s realization that the work she was doing needed to be done from an Islamic perspective mirrored my own journey in many ways. Despite always being passionate about gender justice and incorporating that into my work and personal life to a large extent ever since I was a teenager, I never truly realized the extent to which I had alienated my own identity as a Muslim in this part of my work.

It wasn’t until I came across Shaykha Amir’s course on breaking down verses and beliefs in Islam weaponized against Muslims that I realized how much I had been holding back. In a conversation with her and my fellow students during one of the classes, when talking about how healing it was to hear a religious teacher tell us that we were important to Allah and that the Quran had placed immense value on a woman’s space in religion, I almost cried. I had hid away for so long because it was too confusing for me to be a good Muslim woman while also feeling like the Islam I was taught had no space. Suddenly, that feeling was released and a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I no longer felt like I needed to be two people or always be on the defensive when someone mentioned my stance on certain issues from an Islamic perspective — which happened a lot. As one of the only hijab-wearing women among my friends, I’d become the tokenistic defender of Islam. 

Amir’s course opened new doors for me in reconciling my path toward both gender justice and Islam. With me in Pakistan and her in the U.S., the only way this happened was because of how Muslim women scholars have been creating a growing presence online.

Self-care before it was cool?

Aysha Waz Waz, the founder of Gems Of Light, points out that at no point in time have knowledge and scholarship been as accessible as they are today, urging Muslims to seek scholarship and knowledge to empower themselves. While Waz Waz’s stance against feminist thought would be seen as controversial by many, she is unapologetic in her faith-based approach to women’s issues. Her approach to a woman’s role in Islam is one that helps women prioritize themselves — something many Muslim women struggle with. Speaking of the challenges women face and the influences she has battled, she said, “A lot of institutions were not created to deal with those challenges, and so as a woman, these things are always in our mind — “Will I be able to do this? How will I manage?” Her advice? “Do what you can within your capacity and ability.” It may seem simple, but in today’s world obsessed with hustle culture, Waz Waz has been promoting self care since before it was trending. 

Of course when scholars such as Waz Waz or Shaykha Amir or others address the issues of Western feminist movements, it creates some noise within women’s circles where feminist influences or movements have been the only route to gender justice, and exploring those narratives becomes equally crucial to moving past spiritual trauma.

Community activist and writer Zainab Bint Younus, who grew up surrounded by religious education on account of her father being a Shaykh, decided to counter this by creating a book club called Faith and Femininity.

Having seen the shortcomings in Muslim women’s education and awareness, yet not being able to find a space for her own religious beliefs amid progressive movements, Bint Younus created her own space that allows for critique of both traditional and progressive literature.

“Its a safe space for any Muslim woman who’s interested in examining these books from a critical lens. We are coming from an orthodox traditional Islamic perspective, but we will engage with everything,” she said. The writer and activist also adds that her target audience is Muslim women for a reason. “I’ve seen how many shortcomings there are in Muslim women’s education and awareness,” she said, adding, “It’s important we raise awareness of how skewed these narratives are in Muslim community. There’s very little focus on us as a Muslim woman outside of marriage and motherhood, very little discussion on women's contributions in Islamic history outside of that. There’s nothing wrong with marriage and motherhood, but Muslim women exist outside that — many women don’t choose to do that.” 

While advocacy among Muslim women isn’t uncommon, these spaces stand out because of the unique way in which they bring together advocacy and faith so that Muslim women no longer feel like they have to choose between the two.

Qureshi, who points out that she makes a conscious decision to position her faith first and advocacy second in her work, said that when she first started out she did the opposite. “I think in the past I approached my work in the opposite way, starting from issues to Islam,” she said, adding, “One of the dangers of doing that is our trauma and our thoughts can take over how we interpret and view Islam. And that’s happening in a lot of activist spaces where Muslim women have been dealing with trauma and they think the work they’re doing will heal them, but that’s not how healing works and their work becomes informed by their trauma.” 

Not one of these women will claim that the work they do is the solution to healing the trauma Muslim women go through on a daily basis from so many things — because there is no easy solution.

“Every person’s journey is different,” acknowledged Qureshi. “First of all, we have to acknowledge that trauma is complex, and it’s not just in the body but in the soul, and when people have had their way of life — Islam, used against them — that trauma runs deep.”

Bint Younus further added that finding faith to deal with trauma is far easier said than done. “It makes sense to be triggered by context and environment, but it’s super important to pursue therapy and counseling and see what's triggering,” she said. “Female spaces is a really powerful way of delving into Islam without having constant reminders of abuse.”

Even in her interactions with followers on Instagram, she often receives questions that she simply responds to by reminding the person asking that some questions cannot be answered on a simple Instagram story and encouraging them to seek professional help.

Alone, these spaces may not be enough, but together, they may just be what Muslim women need to empower themselves without having to rely on someone who wants them to change parts of their identity just to be accepted. 

Anmol is a Muslim Pakistani journalist and feminist. Her work aims to explore the intersections of climate, tech, media diversity and social justice in various arenas