On Being an American Muslim Woman...

One beautiful summer morning in Manhattan I walked into McNally Robinson Café to meet with an orthodox Jewish author who was writing a book about women who are unhappy with their religion. Why did she want to interview me, I thought to myself as I ordered a pot of tea? It turns out I had been recommended to her as someone who could provide a positive perspective on Islam. The interview progressed and throughout I noticed that the author seemed absolutely mystified by the Islam that I was speaking of. I suppose I should not have been surprised – all one has to do is turn on the television and at once you are bombarded by images of women covered in black burkas and angry bearded men burning flags. These emblematic images are representative of the Islam that many Americans see, a religion ruled by intolerance, polarity rather than pluralism, and oppression, especially of women. According to the mainstream media, Muslims are primarily angry, finger-shaking fanatic's intent on destroying all that the "west" stands for; technological progress, reason, capitalism and most of all, freedom for women.

Now Muslim insiders like the Somali political writer Ayan Hirsi Ali (who now works for the neo-conservative American Enterprise Institute) have joined the cacophony of voices on the dangers of Islam in the west. Many Muslims, such as Egyptian journalist Mona Eltahawy, suggests that the focus on the extremes of the religion is the unfortunate project of the western media, whether conscious or not, to substantiate rather than complicate powerful negative stereotypes.

Whatever the reason, the prevalent voice heard in the media today is that of militant and fundamentalist Islam and due to this fact, Muslims on the whole, whatever their ideology, suffer. No, I should not be surprised by my interviewer's confusion; the face of the "Muslim woman" is portrayed wrapped in a bleak, black burka peering out from behind what seem to be impenetrable cultural walls, veritable prisons. The words "pardah," "chador" and "FGM or female genital mutilation" have become part of our vocabulary and have filled the American imagination with a modern redux of the Orientalist fantasy of the subjugated woman. At a recent conference on Islamic Feminism at Boston University, one scholar remarked that it is a case of the old "white men saving brown women from brown men syndrome," that is behind much of the media's fascination with the plight of Muslim women. The story of the white, male liberator of Muslim women is one which has been repeated since its debut in English and French travel narratives of the late 18th and 19th centuries. Fantastical stories of vast harems of virgins and tyrannical sultans were exported as fast as spices and tea out of the Middle East, Near East and India. In contemporary times we no longer need these fairy tales to imagine the horrors of corrupt social systems which subjugate women throughout the Muslim world. We have heard first hand accounts from Muslim women about their experiences of oppression at the hands of various political regimes as well as politicized religious leaders, husbands, brothers and even sons. Given all of this, who exactly was I to speak well of Islam, and as a woman no less?

First, I must say that I could be classified as an American "convert" to Islam, although I personally do not like that title, since I see the Abrahamic traditions; Judaism, Christianity and Islam allied under one banner, tied together in one vast continuum, rather than divorced by political misunderstandings. Secondly, I was lucky enough, by a series of coincidences, to enter a Sufi tarikat or Islamic mystical order, the Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Order from Istanbul. This happy event occurred thanks to a dear friend whom I call my "Sufi mother," who introduced me first to the poetry of Rumi and Hafez and the delights of Persian classical music in my early twenties and later would lead me to my spiritual teacher. This introduction, coupled with major changes in my personal life and powerful synchronistic events led me to the Durgah al-Farah in November, 2002. Besides the fact that all I remember of that first night's visit was the prevalence of light which seemed to envelop the entire room contrasted against the rich dark red of the oriental carpets, I was hooked. From that day onwards I never missed a chance to sit at the side of my teacher, Sheikha Fariha Fatima al-Jerrahi to whom I officially committed myself in an ancient initiation ceremony. The "hand taking" ceremony, as it is known, replicates the historical pledge of the companions of the Prophet Muhammad who clasped his right hand marking an intensification of their commitment to the fledgling religion of Islam. In Sufi tradition it is maintained that over the right hand of the Spiritual teacher rests the hand of the Prophet and over his hand descends the mystic right hand of Divine Presence. This image of the layering of hands in the pledge of spiritual companionship illustrates an integral idea in Sufism; that the spiritual success of the seeker relies upon the guidance and power of fourteen centuries of spiritual teachers who have passed before, leading back to the Prophet Muhammad and ultimately upon the grace of God. This idea of God's grace and mercy, a central idea in Islam is one of the most fascinating elements of the religion for me. The idea that "God's mercy outweighs God's severity," is a tenet which is highlighted by the beginning sentence of every chapter of the Qur'an, "Bismillah ir rahman, ir rahim," or "In the name of God's Boundless Compassionate and infinite Mercy." The centrality of Mercy and Compassion to Sufism is what has captured my interest and provided for me a way out of the pitfalls of a troubled and loveless society.

Although my first years in the order were marked by a dizzying array of spiritual experiences during the day and dreams during the night, as well as a hunger to learn as much as I could about the Sufi path, I was eventually led question the relation between a religion which maintains that Divine Reality is only Absolute and all-encompassing Divine Love, and the terrors of political Islam which seemed to be the day-in and day-out preoccupation of the world around me. Finally, some five or so years after taking initiation into an Islamic Sufi order, I found myself grappling with issues that had before that moment seemed beside the point.

What did the political arena have to do with me? I was only looking for a way to reach God. Who was I to grapple with the big issues? What I did not realize at the time was the extent to which the decision to enter an Islamic Sufi order would introduce me to a world so foreign to my own and the wide ranging implications this would have for my understanding of gender, patriarchy and religion, as well as the political situation in the world today. So, I was eventually lead to investigate and interrogate all the levels of Islam, historical, social and political; not satisfied solely by my ability to practice and pray as a white, western woman living in a Cosmopolitan city. I wondered about other women like me who also longed for religious freedom and knowledge. Would they too be able to learn from a living master? What did it really mean to be a Muslim woman today? Was there more or less opposition to women in Islam as compared to the other patriarchal religions, Christianity and Judaism? How was my experience different than that of a woman born into Islam because I lived and was educated in the west?

These questions kept their vigil in my head for many months and years until during my Graduate studies I began to investigate them in earnest. Most importantly, I began to ask different female spiritual leaders these questions and received astounding answers. One such woman was my Sufi master, Sheikha Fariha al-Jerrahi. I feel she is the case-perfect example of a woman who defies at once both the Islamophobes of the western media and the misogynist Imam's of the pulpits in her combination of perfect adherence to both the message of Islam and the openness of American mystical traditions. The depth of her understanding and knowledge cannot be disputed even though her authority as the first western female sheikh is sometimes challenged.

In 1980 Fariha Friedrich became the first western woman to receive the Taj or crown of a representative from Sheikh Muzaffer Ozak, who was then the spiritual head of the Halveti-Jerrahi Sufi Order located in Istanbul, Turkey. That day she was standing next to another western man, Lex Hixon, who became Sheikh Nur al-Jerrahi. Some may know Lex as the exuberant host of the WBAI radio show, "In the Spirit," which went off the air in 1984. Co-Founder of the DIA Art Foundation, Sheikha Fariha met Sheikh Muzaffer Ozak on his second trip to the United States in 1978. She later founded the Durgah-al-Farah in New York City which has served as the spiritual center of the Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Community of Dervishes since that time. After Sheikh Nur's death in 1995, Fariha became the spiritual head of the order, currently guiding spiritual circles of learning located throughout North America, Europe, Puerto Rico, Hawaii and Australia.

Over these past years under her tutelage I have learned not only about the religion of Islam and its mystical implications, i.e., Sufism, but also about the unique opportunity afforded by living and learning in the west. Not only do we have access to ancient systems of knowledge and self-transformation, such as Sufism, and many others including Kabbalah, Yoga, Hinduism and Buddhism we also have the ability to experience these traditions outside their native contexts and free of possible prejudices and limitations imposed by such contexts. Sheikha Fariha suggested in a recent interview, "We are really like children. It's like having 1400 yrs of Islamic history, of parents and grandparents and great-grandparents – ancestors whom we barely even know and we're just taking this chalice of Islam, this holy cup of Sufism. Sometimes we're not even grateful, because we don't even have the knowledge to be grateful for it."

I am grateful. As I have engaged with Sufism in its various forms in my travels; Turkey, India, Australia, North America and Mexico, I have realized just what freedoms and openings are afforded by the spiritual arena of the west. I have also realized the myriad ways that the social customs of the people and places where Sufism is taught and lived have influenced its character.

For instance, in Turkey women are kept primarily separate from men, are not allowed direct access to male spiritual guides nor are allowed to be formal spiritual guides themselves. In India where purdah (seclusion of women) is regularly practiced among Muslims and women in general are subject to intense cultural rules and taboos, women are also granted very limited access to Sufi shrines as well as religious knowledge. These two locations can be held in stark contrast to North and South American Sufi contexts which remain relatively free of religious, race or gender limitations and have proven to be very fruitful ground for women's spiritual lives and leadership.

Sheikha Fariha credits honorable and brave men for the openness of American Sufism. Where would we be if not for the path-makers and rule-breakers such as Hazret Inayat Khan, Irina Tweedie's anonymous teacher in India and Muzaffer Ozak in Turkey who opened the door for women and many others to enter Sufism? Even though there are few examples today, the path of women in Islam and Sufism is opening still. Sheikha Fariha credits 9/11 and the explosion of interest in Islam with initiating this process. Of course it would have been nicer if it could have been under amiable circumstances, but no one can dispute the surge of interest in Islam that has occurred in the last seven years. As for the future of Islam in America and the west, I quote Junayd al-Baghdadi (d.910 A.D.), the mystic from Iraq who said, "Islam is like clear water poured into different vessels, it takes the shape and color of each vessel it fills."

Sheikha Fariha explains this quote as it relates to the human experience of Sufism: "That phrase reveals the heart of Sufism, because the light of Islam is really the light of God, and it's the light of God as it radiates through the heart of the Prophet Muhammad, as a vast prism, offering light for humanity. It also points to the freedom that is at the core of Islam, the freedom of light. It is almost impossible to track light as light radiates. It goes everywhere; it isn't bound by anything; it takes on the nature and the color of everything it reflects upon. When Junayd speaks of water, he really speaks of light, perhaps a more embodied form of light, but it has that same fluidity, transparency and purity. The way of Islam is the way of the heart opening as the Truth, being revealed as the Truth and each soul will be a unique embodiment of that Truth, of that light, of that water."


For more information on Sheikha Fariha and the Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Order please visit their web-site: http://www.nurashkijerrahi.org.