Da sinistra: Sukina Douglas, Catherine Heseltine, Aqeela Lindsay Wheeler, Catherine Huntley and Joanne Bailey.
Sono tempi controversi per le donne inglesi che desiderano indossare l’hijab, il velo basico in Islam. Il mese scorso, il Belgio e’ stato il primo paese europeo a far passare la legge per bandire il burka (il piu’ coprente dei veli islamici), definendolo una “minaccia” alla dignita’ femminile, mentre la Francia sembra pronta a seguirne l’esempio. In Italia poco fa, una donna musulmana e’ stata multata di 500 euro (£430) per indossare tale tipo di velo fuori un ufficio postale.
Eppure mentre meno del 2% della popolazione partecipa settimanalmente alle funzioni religiose della Chiesa Anglicana, il numero delle donne che abbraccia la fede islamica e’ in continua crescita. Alla moschea centrale di Londra, di Regents’ park, le donne costituiscono approssimativamente i 2/3 dei “Nuovi Musulmani” che hanno pronunciato la dichiarazione di fede li’, e la maggior parte non raggiungono i 30 anni di eta’.
Le statistiche delle conversioni o ritorni sono sproporzionate in modo alquanto frustrante, difatti al tempo del censimento del 2001, risultavano come minimo 30.000 musulmani britannici convertiti nel Regno Unito. Stando a Kevin Brice, del Centre for Migration Policy Research, Swansea University, questo numero potrebbe aver raggiunto i 50.000, e la maggior parte di essi sono donne. Brice conferma: “Un’analisi basilare mostra che il numero crescente di donne giovani e con istruzione universitaria, si convertono all’Islam tra i 20 e i 30 anni d’eta’.”
“La societa’ del 21esimo secolo, e’ liberale e pluralista, in essa si puo’ liberamente scegliere la carriera che si vuole seguire, e l’ideologia politica, e si puo’ dunque scegliere cio’ che vogliamo essere spiritualmente” spiega Dr. Mohammad S. Seddon, lettore in Studi Islamici all’Universita’ di Chester. Oggigiorno esiste una sorta di “supermercato religioso” egli afferma.
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Joanne Bailey
Procuratore legale, 30, Bradford
“La prima volta che ho indossato il mio hijab in ufficio, ero molto tesa, rimasi fuori al telefono con un amico per lungo tempo: “Cosa potranno mai dire?” Quando mi decisi ad entrare, un paio di persone mi chiesero: ”Come mai stai indossando il velo? Non sapevo che tu fossi musulmana”.
Sono davvero l’ultima persona che ti saresti aspettata potesse convertirsi al’Islam: ero stata allevata in modo troppo protettivo, dalla classe media nel South Yorkshire. Non avevo quasi mai visto un musulmano prima di frequentare l’Universita’.
Nel mio primo lavoro in un ufficio di procuratori a Barnsley, ricordo di aver giocato il ruolo della donna single, giovane ed in carriera: ero ossessivamente a dieta, o a fare shopping e frequentare bar, ma non mi sentivo veramente a mio agio.
Poi un pomeriggio del 2004 tutto cambio’: stavo chiacchierando con un amico musulmano bevendo un caffe’, quando egli noto’ un piccolo crocifisso d’oro che portavo al collo. Mi chiese:”Credi in Dio allora?” Io lo indossavo per moda piuttosto che per motivi religiosi e gli rispossi:” No, non credo proprio” Ed egli inizio’ a parlarmi della sua fede.
Non ne tenni molto conto all’inizio, ma le sue parole mi rimasero impresse. Pochi giorni dopo, mi ritrovai ad ordinare una copia del Corano da internet.
Mi prese un bel po’ di tempo per trovare il coraggio e la forza di andare ad un evento sociale di donne gestito da un nuovo gruppo musulmano di Leeds. Mi ricordo che rimasi ad indugiare fuori la porta pensando:”Che cavolo ci faccio qui?”Mi immaginavo che sarebbero state vestite in abiti neri dalla testa ai piedi: “Cosa potevo avere in comune con loro, io: una venticinquenne inglese bionda?”
Ma quando entrai, nessuna di esse rispecchiava lo stereotipo della donna casalinga oppressa musulmana; erano tutti dottori, insegnanti e psichiatri. Fui colpita da quanto sembrassero soddisfatte e sicure.
Dopo quattro anni nel Marzo 2008, ho fatto la dichiarazione di fede in casa di amici. Al principio temevo di non aver fatto la cosa giusta, ben presto mi rilassai, e’ un po’ come iniziare un nuovo lavoro.
Pochi mesi dopo affrontai i miei genitori e gli dissi:”Ho qualcosa da dirvi” Ci fu silenzio e poi mia madre disse:”Sei diventata musulmana non e’ vero?” Ella scoppio’ in lacrime e continuo’ chiedendomi cose del tipo:”Cosa ti succedera’ quando ti sposerai? Dovrai coprirti? Cosa ne sara’ del tuo lavoro?”Cercai di rassicurarla che sarei sempre rimasta la stessa, ma ella sembrava troppo preoccupata del mio benessere.
Contrariamente a quello che la maggior parte della gente pensa, l’Islam non mi opprime; mi lascia essere la persona che sono sempre stata. Adesso sono molto piu’ riconoscente e soddisfatta delle cose che ho. Da pochi mesi, mi sono fidanzata con un procuratore musulmano che ho incontrato in un corso di formazione. Egli non contrario alla mia carriera, ma sono d’accordo con la prospettiva islamica sul ruolo tradizionale dell’uomo e della donna. Voglio badare a mio marito e ai miei figli, ma voglio anche la mia indipendenza. Sono fiera di essere inglese e sono fiera di essere musulmana, non vedo alcun conflitto tra queste due realta’.”
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Aqeela Lindsay Wheeler
Casalinga e madre, 26, Leicester
“Da adolescente pensavo che tutte le religioni fossero davvero patetiche. Solevo trascorrere i miei fine settimana ubriaca fuori al centro ricreativo, in sandali dal tacco a spillo e minigonna. Ecco come la pensavo: perche’ imporsi dei limiti? Si vive una volta sola.
All’universita’ , vivevo come tutte le studentesse, bevendo ed andando in discoteca, ma mi svegliavo sempre il giorno dopo coi postumi della sbornia pensando quale fosse il fine di tutto questo.
Durante il secondo anno incontrai Hussein. Sapevo che era musulmano, ma ci stavamo innamorando, dunque misi completamente da parte la questione religiosa. Ma sei mesi dopo l’inizio della nostra relazione, egli mi disse che continuare questa relazione era ‘contro la sua fede’.
Ero davvero sconvolta. Quella notte rimasi a leggere due libri sull’Islam che Hussein mi aveva dato. Mi ricordo di essere scoppiata in lacrime perche’ mi sentivo troppo travolta. Pensavo: “Questo potrebbe essere l’intero significato della vita” Ma avevo tante domande: perche’ dovrei coprirmi il capo? Perche’ non posso mangiare quello che voglio?
Iniziai a parlare con donne musulmane all’universita’ , le quali stravolsero completamente il mio punto di vista. Erano ben istruite, stimate e veramente trovavano il velo come liberatorio. Ero convinta, e tre settimane dopo mi convertii ufficialmente all’Islam.
Quando lo raccontai a mia madre poche settimane dopo, non credo che ella lo prese seriamente. Fece un po’ di commenti del tipo:”Perche’ vorresti indossare il velo? Hai dei capelli cosi’ belli” sembrava che non capisse quello che intendessi.
All’universita’ la mia migliore amica si rivolto’ completamente contro di me: non riusciva a capacitarsi di come fosse possible che una settimana prima andassi in discoteca e la settimane seguente avessi abbandonato tutto e mi fossi convertita all’Islam. Ella era molto vicina al mio vecchio modo di vivere, dunque non rimpiango troppo di non averla piu’ come amica.
Scelsi il nome di Aqeela perche’ significa “giudiziosa ed intelligente” ed era quello a cui aspiravo a diventare quando mi convertii all’Islam sei anni fa. Divenni una persona completamente diversa: ognicosa che aveva a che fare con Lindsay, l’avevo cancellato dalla memoria.
La cosa piu’ difficile fu cambiare il modo in cui mi vestivo perche’ avevo sempre seguito la moda. La prima volta che provai un hijab, ricordo di essermi seduta di fronte allo specchio, pensando:”Ma cosa ci faccio con un pezzo di stoffa sulla mia testa? Sembro folle!” Adesso mi sentirei nuda senza, e soltanto occasionalmente sogno ad occhi aperti il vento che mi soffia tra i capelli. Una volta o due, sono ritornata a casa scoppiando in lacrime perche’ mi sentivo scialba, ma era la mia vanita’.
E’ davvero un sollievo non sentire piu’ quella pressione. Indossare l’hijab mi ricorda che tutto cio’ che ho bisogno di fare e’ servire Dio ed essere umile. Ho anche attraversato delle fasi in cui mi sentivo di indossare il niqab perche’ sentivo che era molto piu’ appropriato ma puo’ anche causare qualche disagio.
Qaundo la gente nota che una ragazza bianca indossa il niqab, presume che si siano abbandonate le proprie radici “per seguire una branco di Asiatici”. Ho anche vissuto episodi di razzismo in cui ragazzi adolescenti mi urlavano in strada: “Togliti questo affare dalla testa, tu bianca b***”
Dopo gli episodi delgli attentati a Londra, avevo timore di camminare per la strada per paura di una ritorsione.
In linea generale, ho una vita molto felice. Ho sposato Hussein ed abbiamo un bambino di un anno, Zakir. Cerchiamo di seguire i ruoli tradizionali islamici: sono principalmente casalinga e madre, e lui va a lavoro. Sognavo una splendida carriera come psicologa, ma adesso non aspiro piu’ a questo.
Diventare una musulmana non e’ stato molto semplice. Questa vita puo’ qualche volta farti sentire come in prigione con molte regole e restrizioni, ma crediamo che saremo ricompensati nella vita oltre la morte.”
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Catherine Heseltine
Maestra materna, 31, Nord Londra
"Se mi aveste chiesto all’eta’ di 16 anni, se mi fossi mai interessato diventare musulmana, avrei risposto:”No, grazie” Ero troppo felice di bere, partecipare a festini varii ed avere i miei amici. Sono cresciuta nella Londra del Nord, non abbiamo mai praticato la religione a casa; ho sempre pensato fosse una cosa fuori moda e irrilevante. Ma quando incontrai quello che poi divenne il mio promesso, Syed, alla sesta classe, egli sfido’ tutti i miei preconcetti. Era giovane, musulmano, credente in Dio, eppure era normale. L’unica differenza era che egli, a differenza di tutti gli altri adolescenti, non beveva.
Un anno dopo, avevamo perso la testa l’uno per l’altra, ma ci chiedemmo subito: come avremmo potuto continuare a restare insieme se lui era musulmano ed io no?
Prima di incontrare Syed, non mi ero mai chiesta veramente in cosa credessi; mi definivo agnostica casuale per osmosi. Dunque iniziai a leggere alcuni libri sull’Islam giusto per curiosita’. All’inizio, il Corano mi prese a livello intellettuale; l’aspetto emotivo e spirituale non arrivo’ subito. Amavo le spiegazioni del mondo naturale e scopri’ che ben 1500 anni fa l’Islam sanciva diritti alle donne che quest’ultime non hanno conquistato nella societa’ occidentale fino a tempi recenti. Fu una rivelazione.
La religione non era esattamente una cosa “leggera” di cui parlare, dunque per tre anni tenni il mio interesse per l’Islam soltanto per me stessa.
Ma durante il mio primo anno di universita’, Syed ed io decidemmo di sposarci, dunque capii che era tempo di parlarne ai miei genitori. La reazione iniziale di mia madre fu:” Non potreste andare soltanto a vivere insieme all’inizio?” Ella era preoccupata che stessi affrettando il mio matrominio e di conseguenza precipitando verso il ruolo della donna nella famiglia musulmana; nessuno capi’ quanto seriamente stavo prendendo la mia conversione religiosa. Mi ricordo di uscire per cena con mio padre, che mi esortava:”Dai su, bevi un bicchiere di vino, non lo diro’ a Syed!” Molte persone davano per certo che mi stavo convertendo all’Islam per rendere la mia famiglia felice, non perche’ ci credessi.
Piu’ tardi nel corso dello stesso anno, festeggiammo con un bella cerimonia bengali, ed andammo a vivere in un appartamento insieme, ma non ero certo incatenata al lavandino della cucina. Non indossavo ancora l’hijab, indossavo una bandana oppure un cappelino per iniziare.
Ero solita attirare molto l’attenzione di ragazzi quando frequentavo discoteche, bar, dovetti lasciar andare. Gradualmente adottai la mentalita’ islamica, desideravo che la gente mi giudicasse per la mia intelligenza e il mio carattere, non per quelo che apparivo. Stavo diventando piu’ forte.
Non avevo mai fatto parte di una minoranza religiosa prima, dunque era un grande cambiameto, ma i miei amici erano molto comprensivi. Alcuni erano rimasti scioccati:”Che cosa? Niente bere, niente droghe, niente sesso? Io non ce la farei!” E ci volle un po’ di tempo per i miei amici maschietti all’universita’ di ricordarsi di non darmi il bacetto sulla guancia quando ci si incontrava. Dovevo dire:”Mi dispiace, e’ una regola musulmana”
Col tempo divenni piu’ praticante di mio marito. Iniziammo a dividerci anche in altri campi. Alla fine penso che la responsabilita’ del matrimonio era troppo per lui; divenne distante e disinteressato. Dopo sette anni insieme, decisi di divorziare.
Quando ritornai a vivere con i miei, la gente era molto stupita che io indossassi ancora l’hijab. Ma stavo rafforzando la mia fede: inizia ad acquisire un senso di me stessa come musulmana, indipendentemente da lui. L’Islam mi ha dato una guida ed un fine. Sono impegnata con la Commissione Musulmana degli Affari Pubblici, e conduco campagne contro l’islamofobia, e la discriminazione contro le donne nelle moschee, la poverta’ e la situazione in Palestina. Quando la gente ci definisce ”estremisti” o “la parte vulnerabile oscura della politica inglese” penso sia ridicolo. Ci sono tanti problemi nella comunita’ musulmana, ma quando la gente si sente sotto assedio, il progresso e’ ancora piu’ difficile.
Mi sento ancora di far parte della societa’ bianca inglese, ma sono anche musulmana. C’e’ voluto un po’ di tempo per far coesistere queste due identita’ , ma adesso mi sento molto piu’ sicura essendo chi sono. Faccio parte di entrambe queste realta’ e nessuno potra’ strapparmi questo senso di appartenenza."
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Sukina Douglas
Poetessa della lingua parlata, 28, Londra
"Prima di incontrare l’Islam, il mio sguardo era fisso sull’Africa. Ero stata allevata come una rastafariana e solevo portare folli lunghi treccine: meta’ bionde e meta’ nere. Poi nel 2005 il mio ex ragazzo ritorno’ da una viaggio in Africa e annuncio’ che aveva abbracciato l’Islam. Ero furiosa e gli dissi che “stava perdendo le sue radici africane”. Perche’ cercava di trasformarsi in Arabo? Era una realta’ cosi’ estranea rispetto al mio modo di vivere. Ogni volta che vedevo una donna musulmana nella strada pensavo:”Ma perche’ devono coprirsi in quel modo? Non hanno caldo?” Mi sembrava ingiusto, oppressivo.
L’Islam era gia’ nella mia coscienza , ma quando iniziai a leggere l’autobiografia di Malcolm X all’universita’, qualcosa si scosse dentro di me. Un giorno dissi alla mia migliore amica Munira:”Mi sto innamorando dell’Islam”. Ella rise e disse:”Calmati , Sukina!” Ella inizio’ ad esplorare la realta’ islamica soltanto per provarmi che stavo in errore, ma ben presto comincio’ a crederci anche lei.
Mi sono sempre battuta appassionatamente per i diritti delle donne; non c’era alcun modo che potessi credere in una religione che cercava di denigrarmi come tale. Ma le cose cambiarono quando mi ritrovai a leggere un libro di una femminista marocchina, che disfece tutte le mie opinioni negative: l’Islam non opprimeva le donne, era la gente a farlo.
Prima di abbracciare questa fede, feci un esperimento. Mi coprii abbigliandomi con una gonna stile zingaresco ed uscii. Ma non mi sentivo scialba; mi sentivo bellissima. Capii che non ero una sorta di comodita’ sessuale di cui gli uomini potessero avere desiderio; voglio essere giudicata per il mio contributo mentale.
Munira ed io recitammo la nostra shahada (dichiarazione di fede) insieme pochi mesi dopo, mi taglia le treccine per rinnovarmi: era l’inizio di una nuova vita. Tre settimane dopo la nostra conversione, ci furono gli attentati di Londra (7/7); improvvisamente diventammo le nemiche numero uno. Non avevo mai provato cosa fosse il razzismo a Londra prima, ma nelle settimane dopo gli attentati, la gente mi gettava uova contro dicendomi: “Ritorna al tuo paese” anche se questo e’ il mio paese.
Non sto cercando di scappare chi sono. Alcune persone si vestono in stile arabo o pakistanese, ma io sono inglese e caraibica, dunque il mio vestito nazionale e’ rappresentato Primark e Topshop, con strati di veli colorati comprati al charity shop. Sei mesi dopo il mio ritorno all’Islam, ritornai insieme al mio ex e ci sposammo. Le regole in casa nostra sono diverse, perche’ noi siamo diversi, ma mio marito non si sognerebbe mai di impartirmi ordini; non e’ il modo in cui sono stata allevata.
Prima di trovare l’Islam, ero una ribelle senza una causa, ma adesso ho un fine nella mia vita: posso indentificare i miei difetti e lavorarci sopra per diventare una persona migliore. Per me essere musulmana significa contribuire alla nostra societa’, non importa da dove vieni."
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Catherine Huntley
Assistente alle vendite al dettaglio, 21, Bournemouth
I miei genitori hanno sempre pensato che fossi anormale anche prima di abbracciare l’Islam. Nei primi anni dell’adolescenza mi trovarono a guardare la tv un venerdi sera e mi dissero:”Ma che fai a casa? Non hai amici con cui uscire?”
La verita’ era che io non amavo gli alcolici, non avevo mai fumato, non ero molto presa dai ragazzi. Voi pensate che sarebbero dovuti esserne contenti. Sono sempre stata una persona molto spirituale, dunque quando iniziai a studiare l’Islam nei primi anni delle superiori, qualcosa scatto’. Avrei trascorso tutta la pausa del pranzo al computer a leggere infomrazioni sull’Islam. Avevo pace nel cuore e niente altro importava. Era un’esperienza bizzarra, avrei ritrovato me stessa, e la persona che trovai era diversa da ogni altro che conoscevo.
Avevo raramente visto un musulmano prima, dunque non avevo alcun preconcetto, ma i miei genitori non avevano una mentalita’ cosi’ aperta. Nascosi i miei libri islamici e veli in un cassetto, perche’ avevo paura che mi scoprissero.
Quando decisi di parlarne ai miei genitori, erano inorriditi e dissero:”Ne riparleremo quando avrai diciotto anni.” Ma la mia passione per l’Islam diventava piu’ forte. Iniziai a vestirmi in modo piu’ modesto e digiunavo segretamente durante il Ramadhan. Diventai brava a condurre una doppia vita finche’ un giorno, quando avevo diciassette anni, non potetti piu’ aspettare.
Sgattaiolai fuori casa, misi il mio velo in una busta e presi il treno per Bournemouth. Sicuramente apparvi un po’ svitata quando sul vagone del treno tirai fuori il mio hijab e lo aggiustai usando il coperchio di un bidone dei rifiuti come specchio. Una coppia di persone anziane mi guardo’ in malo modo, ma non mi tocco’ affatto. Per la prima volta nella mia via, mi sentivo me stessa.
Una settimana dopo la mia conversion, mia madre venne di filato nella mia stanza e disse:”Hai qualcosa da dirmi?”Ella tiro’ fuori dalla sua tasca il mio certificate di conversion. Penso che avrebbero preferito trovare qualsiasi altra cosa a questo punto, droghe, sigarette, preservative, perche’ al minimo avrebbero potuto illudersi che si trattava della tipica ribellione adolescenziale.
Riusci’ a scorgere la paura nei suoi occhi. Non riusciva a capire perche’ volessi rinunciare alla mia liberta’ per amore di una religione straniera. Perche’ volessi mai unirmi a tutti questi terroristi e suicidi?
Era difficile essere musulmani a casa dei miei genitori. Non dimentichero’ mai una sera, c’erano due donne in burka sulla prima pagina di un quotidiano, ed essi iniziarono a scherzare:”Catherine presto sara’ cosi’”
Neppure gli piaceva che pregassi cinque volte al giorno; pensavano fosse “un’ossessione”. Pregavo di fronte la porta della mia camera dunque mia madre poteva entrare, ma ella preferiva chiamarmi: “Catherine, vuoi una tazza di te?” soltanto per farmi interrompere.
Quattro anni dopo ancora mio nonno diceva cose del tipo: “Le donne musulmane devono camminare tre passi indietro ai loro mariti”. Mi faceva davvero arrabbiare, perche’ questo e’ un fatto culturale, non religioso. Il mio promesso sposo, che ho incontrato otto mesi fa, e’ dell’Afghanistan e crede che la donna musulmana sia come una perla e che suo marito sia la conchiglia che la protegge. Io apprezzo questo modo un po’ fuorimoda di vedere la vita: e sono contenta che una volta sposati sara’ lui a pagare i conti. Ho sempre desiderato diventare una casalinga.
Voler sposare un afgano ha rappresentato la ciliegina sulla torta per i miei genitori. Pensano che adesso io sia completamente andata fuori di testa. Il matrimonio sara’ celebrato in una moschea, dunque non credo parteciperanno. Mi fa un po’ male pensare che non indossero’ quel bellissimo abito nuziale da favola, circondata dalla mia famiglia. Ma spero che la mia nuova vita con mio marito sara’ molto piu’ felice. Creero’ quell’atmosfera a casa che ho sempre desiderato, senza sentire il dolore della gente che mi giudica.”
tradotto da cinzia amatullah
fonte: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/faith/article7135026.ece /faith/article7135026.ece
MY PROFILE From Times Online May 29, 2010
Young. British. Female. Muslim.
Thousands of young British women living in the UK decide to convert to Islam - here are some of their storiesSarah Harris It’s a controversial time for British women to be wearing the hijab, the basic Muslim headscarf. Last month, Belgium became the first European country to pass legislation to ban the burka (the most concealing of Islamic veils), calling it a “threat” to female dignity, while France looks poised to follow suit. In Italy earlier this month, a Muslim woman was fined €500 (£430) for wearing the Islamic veil outside a post office.
And yet, while less than 2 per cent of the population now attends a Church of England service every week, the number of female converts to Islam is on the rise. At the London Central Mosque in Regent’s Park, women account for roughly two thirds of the “New Muslims” who make their official declarations of faith there – and most of them are under the age of 30.
Conversion statistics are frustratingly patchy, but at the time of the 2001 Census, there were at least 30,000 British Muslim converts in the UK. According to Kevin Brice, of the Centre for Migration Policy Research, Swansea University, this number may now be closer to 50,000 – and the majority are women. “Basic analysis shows that increasing numbers of young, university-educated women in their twenties and thirties are converting to Islam,” confirms Brice.
“Our liberal, pluralistic 21st-century society means we can choose our careers, our politics – and we can pick and choose who we want to be spiritually,” explains Dr Mohammad S. Seddon, lecturer in Islamic Studies at the University of Chester. We’re in an era of the “religious supermarket”, he says.
Related Links
The niqab, fact v fiction
Joanne Bailey
Solicitor, 30, Bradford
“The first time I wore my hijab into the office, I was so nervous, I stood outside on the phone to my friend for ages going, ‘What on earth is everyone going to say?’ When I walked in, a couple of people asked, ‘Why are you wearing that scarf? I didn’t know you were a Muslim.’
“I’m the last person you’d expect to convert to Islam: I had a very sheltered, working-class upbringing in South Yorkshire. I’d hardly even seen a Muslim before I went to university.
“In my first job at a solicitor’s firm in Barnsley, I remember desperately trying to play the role of the young, single, career woman: obsessively dieting, shopping and going to bars – but I never felt truly comfortable.
“Then one afternoon in 2004 everything changed: I was chatting to a Muslim friend over coffee, when he noticed the little gold crucifix around my neck. He said, ‘Do you believe in God, then?’ I wore it more for fashion than religion and said, ‘No, I don’t think so,’ and he started talking about his faith.
“I brushed him off at first, but his words stuck in my mind. A few days later, I found myself ordering a copy of the Koran on the internet.
“It took me a while to work up the courage to go to a women’s social event run by the Leeds New Muslims group. I remember hovering outside the door thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ I imagined they would be dressed head-to-toe in black robes: what could I, a 25-year-old, blonde English girl, possibly have in common with them?
“But when I walked in, none of them fitted the stereotype of the oppressed Muslim housewife; they were all doctors, teachers and psychiatrists. I was struck by how content and secure they seemed. It was meeting these women, more than any of the books I read, that convinced me that I wanted to become a Muslim.
“After four years, in March 2008, I made the declaration of faith at a friend’s house. At first, I was anxious that I hadn’t done the right thing, but I soon relaxed into it – a bit like starting a new job.
“A few months later, I sat my parents down and said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’ There was a silence and my mum said, ‘You’re going to become Muslim, aren’t you?’ She burst into tears and kept asking things like, ‘What happens when you get married? Do you have to cover up? What about your job?’ I tried to reassure her that I’d still be me, but she was concerned for my welfare.
“Contrary to what most people think, Islam doesn’t oppress me; it lets me be the person that I was all along. Now I’m so much more content and grateful for the things I’ve got. A few months ago, I got engaged to a Muslim solicitor I met on a training course. He has absolutely no problem with my career, but I do agree with the Islamic perspective on the traditional roles for men and women. I want to look after my husband and children, but I also want my independence. I’m proud to be British and I’m proud to be Muslim – and I don’t see them as conflicting in any way.”
Aqeela Lindsay Wheeler
Housewife and mother, 26, Leicester
“As a teenager I thought all religion was pathetic. I used to spend every weekend getting drunk outside the leisure centre, in high-heeled sandals and miniskirts. My view was: what’s the point in putting restrictions on yourself? You only live once.
“At university, I lived the typical student existence, drinking and going clubbing, but I’d always wake up the next morning with a hangover and think, what’s the point?
“It wasn’t until my second year that I met Hussein. I knew he was a Muslim, but we were falling in love, so I brushed the whole issue of religion under the carpet. But six months into our relationship, he told me that being with me was ‘against his faith’.
“I was so confused. That night I sat up all night reading two books on Islam that Hussein had given me. I remember bursting into tears because I was so overwhelmed. I thought, ‘This could be the whole meaning of life.’ But I had a lot of questions: why should I cover my head? Why can’t I eat what I like?
“I started talking to Muslim women at university and they completely changed my view. They were educated, successful – and actually found the headscarf liberating. I was convinced, and three weeks later officially converted to Islam.
“When I told my mum a few weeks later, I don’t think she took it seriously. She made a few comments like, ‘Why would you wear that scarf? You’ve got lovely hair,’ but she didn’t seem to understand what it meant.
“My best friend at university completely turned on me: she couldn’t understand how one week I was out clubbing, and the next I’d given everything up and converted to Islam. She was too close to my old life, so I don’t regret losing her as a friend.
“I chose the name Aqeela because it means ‘sensible and intelligent’ – and that’s what I was aspiring to become when I converted to Islam six years ago. I became a whole new person: everything to do with Lindsay, I’ve erased from my memory.
“The most difficult thing was changing the way I dressed, because I was always so fashion-conscious. The first time I tried on the hijab, I remember sitting in front of the mirror, thinking, ‘What am I doing putting a piece of cloth over my head? I look crazy!’ Now I’d feel naked without it and only occasionally daydream about feeling the wind blow through my hair. Once or twice, I’ve come home and burst into tears because of how frumpy I feel – but that’s just vanity.
“It’s a relief not to feel that pressure any more. Wearing the hijab reminds me that all I need to do is serve God and be humble. I’ve even gone through phases of wearing the niqab [face veil] because I felt it was more appropriate – but it can cause problems, too.
“When people see a white girl wearing a niqab they assume I’ve stuck my fingers up at my own culture to ‘follow a bunch of Asians’. I’ve even had teenage boys shout at me in the street, ‘Get that s*** off your head, you white bastard.’ After the London bombings, I was scared to walk about in the streets for fear of retaliation.
“For the most part, I have a very happy life. I married Hussein and now we have a one-year-old son, Zakir. We try to follow the traditional Muslim roles: I’m foremost a housewife and mother, while he goes out to work. I used to dream of having a successful career as a psychologist, but now it’s not something I desire.
“Becoming a Muslim certainly wasn’t an easy way out. This life can sometimes feel like a prison, with so many rules and restrictions, but we believe that we will be rewarded in the afterlife.”
Catherine Heseltine
Nursery school teacher, 31, North London
“If you’d asked me at the age of 16 if I’d like to become a Muslim, I would have said, ‘No thanks.’ I was quite happy drinking, partying and fitting in with my friends.
“Growing up in North London, we never practised religion at home; I always thought it was slightly old-fashioned and irrelevant. But when I met my future husband, Syed, in the sixth form, he challenged all my preconceptions. He was young, Muslim, believed in God – and yet he was normal. The only difference was that, unlike most teenage boys, he never drank.
“A year later, we were head over heels in love, but we quickly realised: how could we be together if he was a Muslim and I wasn’t?
“Before meeting Syed, I’d never actually questioned what I believed in; I’d just picked up my casual agnosticism through osmosis. So I started reading a few books on Islam out of curiosity.
“In the beginning, the Koran appealed to me on an intellectual level; the emotional and spiritual side didn’t come until later. I loved its explanations of the natural world and discovered that 1,500 years ago, Islam gave women rights that they didn’t have here in the West until relatively recently. It was a revelation.
“Religion wasn’t exactly a ‘cool’ thing to talk about, so for three years I kept my interest in Islam to myself. But in my first year at university, Syed and I decided to get married – and I knew it was time to tell my parents. My mum’s initial reaction was, ‘Couldn’t you just live together first?’ She had concerns about me rushing into marriage and the role of women in Muslim households – but no one realised how seriously I was taking my religious conversion. I remember going out for dinner with my dad and him saying, ‘Go on, have a glass of wine. I won’t tell Syed!’ A lot of people assumed I was only converting to Islam to keep his family happy, not because I believed in it.
“Later that year, we had an enormous Bengali wedding, and moved into a flat together – but I certainly wasn’t chained to the kitchen sink. I didn’t even wear the hijab at all to start with, and wore a bandana or a hat instead.
“I was used to getting a certain amount of attention from guys when I went out to clubs and bars, but I had to let that go. I gradually adopted the Islamic way of thinking: I wanted people to judge me for my intelligence and my character – not for the way I looked. It was empowering.
“I’d never been part of a religious minority before, so that was a big adjustment, but my friends were very accepting. Some of them were a bit shocked: ‘What, no drink, no drugs, no men? I couldn’t do that!’ And it took a while for my male friends at university to remember things like not kissing me hello on the cheek any more. I’d have to say, ‘Sorry, it’s a Muslim thing.’
“Over time, I actually became more religious than my husband. We started growing apart in other ways, too. In the end, I think the responsibility of marriage was too much for him; he became distant and disengaged. After seven years together, I decided to get a divorce.
“When I moved back in with my parents, people were surprised I was still wandering around in a headscarf. But if anything, being on my own strengthened my faith: I began to gain a sense of myself as a Muslim, independent of him.
“Islam has given me a sense of direction and purpose. I’m involved with the Muslim Public Affairs Committee, and lead campaigns against Islamophobia, discrimination against women in mosques, poverty and the situation in Palestine. When people call us ‘extremists’ or ‘the dark underbelly of British politics’, I just think it’s ridiculous. There are a lot of problems in the Muslim community, but when people feel under siege it makes progress even more difficult.
“I still feel very much part of white British society, but I am also a Muslim. It has taken a while to fit those two identities together, but now I feel very confident being who I am. I’m part of both worlds and no one can take that away from me.”
Sukina Douglas
Spoken-word poet, 28, London
“Before I found Islam, my gaze was firmly fixed on Africa. I was raised a Rastafarian and used to have crazy-long dreadlocks: one half blonde and the other half black.
“Then, in 2005, my ex-boyfriend came back from a trip to Africa and announced that he’d converted to Islam. I was furious and told him he was ‘losing his African roots’. Why was he trying to be an Arab? It was so foreign to how I lived my life. Every time I saw a Muslim woman in the street I thought, ‘Why do they have to cover up like that? Aren’t they hot?’ It looked oppressive to me.
“Islam was already in my consciousness, but when I started reading the autobiography of Malcolm X at university, something opened up inside me. One day I said to my best friend, Muneera, ‘I’m falling in love with Islam.’ She laughed and said, ‘Be quiet, Sukina!’ She only started exploring Islam to prove me wrong, but soon enough she started believing it, too.
“I was always passionate about women’s rights; there was no way I would have entered a religion that sought to degrade me. So when I came across a book by a Moroccan feminist, it unravelled all my negative opinions: Islam didn’t oppress women; people did.
“Before I converted, I conducted an experiment. I covered up in a long gypsy skirt and headscarf and went out. But I didn’t feel frumpy; I felt beautiful. I realised, I’m not a sexual commodity for men to lust after; I want to be judged for what I contribute mentally.
“Muneera and I took our shahada [declaration of faith] together a few months later, and I cut my dreadlocks off to represent renewal: it was the beginning of a new life.
“Just three weeks after our conversion, the 7/7 bombings happened; suddenly we were public enemy No 1. I’d never experienced racism in London before, but in the weeks after the bombs, people would throw eggs at me and say, ‘Go back to your own country,’ even though this was my country.
“I’m not trying to shy away from any aspect of who I am. Some people dress in Arabian or Pakistani styles, but I’m British and Caribbean, so my national dress is Primark and Topshop, layered with colourful charity-shop scarves.
“Six months after I converted, I got back together with my ex-boyfriend, and now we’re married. Our roles in the home are different, because we are different people, but he would never try to order me around; that’s not how I was raised.
“Before I found Islam, I was a rebel without a cause, but now I have a purpose in life: I can identify my flaws and work towards becoming a better person. To me, being a Muslim means contributing to your society, no matter where you come from.”
Catherine Huntley
Retail assistant, 21, Bournemouth
“My parents always thought I was abnormal, even before I became a Muslim. In my early teens, they’d find me watching TV on a Friday night and say, ‘What are you doing at home? Haven’t you got any friends to go out with?’
“The truth was: I didn’t like alcohol, I’ve never tried smoking and I wasn’t interested in boys. You’d think they’d have been pleased.
“I’ve always been quite a spiritual person, so when I started studying Islam in my first year of GCSEs, something just clicked. I would spend every lunchtime reading about Islam on the computer. I had peace in my heart and nothing else mattered any more. It was a weird experience – I’d found myself, but the person I found wasn’t like anyone else I knew.
“I’d hardly ever seen a Muslim before, so I didn’t have any preconceptions, but my parents weren’t so open-minded. I hid all my Muslim books and headscarves in a drawer, because I was so scared they’d find out.
“When I told my parents, they were horrified and said, ‘We’ll talk about it when you’re 18.’ But my passion for Islam just grew stronger. I started dressing more modestly and would secretly fast during Ramadan. I got very good at leading a double life until one day, when I was 17, I couldn’t wait any longer.
“I sneaked out of the house, put my hijab in a carrier bag and got on the train to Bournemouth. I must have looked completely crazy putting it on in the train carriage, using a wastebin lid as a mirror. When a couple of old people gave me dirty looks, I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like myself.
“A week after my conversion, my mum came marching into my room and said, ‘Have you got something to tell me?’ She pulled my certificate of conversion out of her pocket. I think they’d rather have found anything else at that point – drugs, cigarettes, condoms – because at least they could have put it down to teenage rebellion.
“I could see the fear in her eyes. She couldn’t comprehend why I’d want to give up my freedom for the sake of a foreign religion. Why would I want to join all those terrorists and suicide bombers?
“It was hard being a Muslim in my parents’ house. I’ll never forget one evening, there were two women in burkas on the front page of the newspaper, and they started joking, ‘That’ll be Catherine soon.’
“They didn’t like me praying five times a day either; they thought it was ‘obsessive’. I’d pray right in front of my bedroom door so my mum couldn’t walk in, but she would always call upstairs, ‘Catherine, do you want a cup of tea?’ just so I’d have to stop.
“Four years on, my grandad still says things like, ‘Muslim women have to walk three steps behind their husbands.’ It gets me really angry, because that’s the culture, not the religion. My fiancé, whom I met eight months ago, is from Afghanistan and he believes that a Muslim woman is a pearl and her husband is the shell that protects her. I value that old-fashioned way of life: I’m glad that when we get married he’ll take care of paying the bills. I always wanted to be a housewife anyway.
“Marrying an Afghan man was the cherry on the cake for my parents. They think I’m completely crazy now. He’s an accountant and actually speaks better English than I do, but they don’t care. The wedding will be in a mosque, so I don’t think they’ll come. It hurts to think I’ll never have that fairytale wedding, surrounded by my family. But I hope my new life with my husband will be a lot happier. I’ll create the home I’ve always wanted, without having to feel the pain of people judging me.”
MY PROFILE From Times Online May 29, 2010
Young. British. Female. Muslim.
Thousands of young British women living in the UK decide to convert to Islam - here are some of their storiesSarah Harris It’s a controversial time for British women to be wearing the hijab, the basic Muslim headscarf. Last month, Belgium became the first European country to pass legislation to ban the burka (the most concealing of Islamic veils), calling it a “threat” to female dignity, while France looks poised to follow suit. In Italy earlier this month, a Muslim woman was fined €500 (£430) for wearing the Islamic veil outside a post office.
And yet, while less than 2 per cent of the population now attends a Church of England service every week, the number of female converts to Islam is on the rise. At the London Central Mosque in Regent’s Park, women account for roughly two thirds of the “New Muslims” who make their official declarations of faith there – and most of them are under the age of 30.
Conversion statistics are frustratingly patchy, but at the time of the 2001 Census, there were at least 30,000 British Muslim converts in the UK. According to Kevin Brice, of the Centre for Migration Policy Research, Swansea University, this number may now be closer to 50,000 – and the majority are women. “Basic analysis shows that increasing numbers of young, university-educated women in their twenties and thirties are converting to Islam,” confirms Brice.
“Our liberal, pluralistic 21st-century society means we can choose our careers, our politics – and we can pick and choose who we want to be spiritually,” explains Dr Mohammad S. Seddon, lecturer in Islamic Studies at the University of Chester. We’re in an era of the “religious supermarket”, he says.
Related Links
The niqab, fact v fiction
Joanne Bailey
Solicitor, 30, Bradford
“The first time I wore my hijab into the office, I was so nervous, I stood outside on the phone to my friend for ages going, ‘What on earth is everyone going to say?’ When I walked in, a couple of people asked, ‘Why are you wearing that scarf? I didn’t know you were a Muslim.’
“I’m the last person you’d expect to convert to Islam: I had a very sheltered, working-class upbringing in South Yorkshire. I’d hardly even seen a Muslim before I went to university.
“In my first job at a solicitor’s firm in Barnsley, I remember desperately trying to play the role of the young, single, career woman: obsessively dieting, shopping and going to bars – but I never felt truly comfortable.
“Then one afternoon in 2004 everything changed: I was chatting to a Muslim friend over coffee, when he noticed the little gold crucifix around my neck. He said, ‘Do you believe in God, then?’ I wore it more for fashion than religion and said, ‘No, I don’t think so,’ and he started talking about his faith.
“I brushed him off at first, but his words stuck in my mind. A few days later, I found myself ordering a copy of the Koran on the internet.
“It took me a while to work up the courage to go to a women’s social event run by the Leeds New Muslims group. I remember hovering outside the door thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ I imagined they would be dressed head-to-toe in black robes: what could I, a 25-year-old, blonde English girl, possibly have in common with them?
“But when I walked in, none of them fitted the stereotype of the oppressed Muslim housewife; they were all doctors, teachers and psychiatrists. I was struck by how content and secure they seemed. It was meeting these women, more than any of the books I read, that convinced me that I wanted to become a Muslim.
“After four years, in March 2008, I made the declaration of faith at a friend’s house. At first, I was anxious that I hadn’t done the right thing, but I soon relaxed into it – a bit like starting a new job.
“A few months later, I sat my parents down and said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’ There was a silence and my mum said, ‘You’re going to become Muslim, aren’t you?’ She burst into tears and kept asking things like, ‘What happens when you get married? Do you have to cover up? What about your job?’ I tried to reassure her that I’d still be me, but she was concerned for my welfare.
“Contrary to what most people think, Islam doesn’t oppress me; it lets me be the person that I was all along. Now I’m so much more content and grateful for the things I’ve got. A few months ago, I got engaged to a Muslim solicitor I met on a training course. He has absolutely no problem with my career, but I do agree with the Islamic perspective on the traditional roles for men and women. I want to look after my husband and children, but I also want my independence. I’m proud to be British and I’m proud to be Muslim – and I don’t see them as conflicting in any way.”
Aqeela Lindsay Wheeler
Housewife and mother, 26, Leicester
“As a teenager I thought all religion was pathetic. I used to spend every weekend getting drunk outside the leisure centre, in high-heeled sandals and miniskirts. My view was: what’s the point in putting restrictions on yourself? You only live once.
“At university, I lived the typical student existence, drinking and going clubbing, but I’d always wake up the next morning with a hangover and think, what’s the point?
“It wasn’t until my second year that I met Hussein. I knew he was a Muslim, but we were falling in love, so I brushed the whole issue of religion under the carpet. But six months into our relationship, he told me that being with me was ‘against his faith’.
“I was so confused. That night I sat up all night reading two books on Islam that Hussein had given me. I remember bursting into tears because I was so overwhelmed. I thought, ‘This could be the whole meaning of life.’ But I had a lot of questions: why should I cover my head? Why can’t I eat what I like?
“I started talking to Muslim women at university and they completely changed my view. They were educated, successful – and actually found the headscarf liberating. I was convinced, and three weeks later officially converted to Islam.
“When I told my mum a few weeks later, I don’t think she took it seriously. She made a few comments like, ‘Why would you wear that scarf? You’ve got lovely hair,’ but she didn’t seem to understand what it meant.
“My best friend at university completely turned on me: she couldn’t understand how one week I was out clubbing, and the next I’d given everything up and converted to Islam. She was too close to my old life, so I don’t regret losing her as a friend.
“I chose the name Aqeela because it means ‘sensible and intelligent’ – and that’s what I was aspiring to become when I converted to Islam six years ago. I became a whole new person: everything to do with Lindsay, I’ve erased from my memory.
“The most difficult thing was changing the way I dressed, because I was always so fashion-conscious. The first time I tried on the hijab, I remember sitting in front of the mirror, thinking, ‘What am I doing putting a piece of cloth over my head? I look crazy!’ Now I’d feel naked without it and only occasionally daydream about feeling the wind blow through my hair. Once or twice, I’ve come home and burst into tears because of how frumpy I feel – but that’s just vanity.
“It’s a relief not to feel that pressure any more. Wearing the hijab reminds me that all I need to do is serve God and be humble. I’ve even gone through phases of wearing the niqab [face veil] because I felt it was more appropriate – but it can cause problems, too.
“When people see a white girl wearing a niqab they assume I’ve stuck my fingers up at my own culture to ‘follow a bunch of Asians’. I’ve even had teenage boys shout at me in the street, ‘Get that s*** off your head, you white bastard.’ After the London bombings, I was scared to walk about in the streets for fear of retaliation.
“For the most part, I have a very happy life. I married Hussein and now we have a one-year-old son, Zakir. We try to follow the traditional Muslim roles: I’m foremost a housewife and mother, while he goes out to work. I used to dream of having a successful career as a psychologist, but now it’s not something I desire.
“Becoming a Muslim certainly wasn’t an easy way out. This life can sometimes feel like a prison, with so many rules and restrictions, but we believe that we will be rewarded in the afterlife.”
Catherine Heseltine
Nursery school teacher, 31, North London
“If you’d asked me at the age of 16 if I’d like to become a Muslim, I would have said, ‘No thanks.’ I was quite happy drinking, partying and fitting in with my friends.
“Growing up in North London, we never practised religion at home; I always thought it was slightly old-fashioned and irrelevant. But when I met my future husband, Syed, in the sixth form, he challenged all my preconceptions. He was young, Muslim, believed in God – and yet he was normal. The only difference was that, unlike most teenage boys, he never drank.
“A year later, we were head over heels in love, but we quickly realised: how could we be together if he was a Muslim and I wasn’t?
“Before meeting Syed, I’d never actually questioned what I believed in; I’d just picked up my casual agnosticism through osmosis. So I started reading a few books on Islam out of curiosity.
“In the beginning, the Koran appealed to me on an intellectual level; the emotional and spiritual side didn’t come until later. I loved its explanations of the natural world and discovered that 1,500 years ago, Islam gave women rights that they didn’t have here in the West until relatively recently. It was a revelation.
“Religion wasn’t exactly a ‘cool’ thing to talk about, so for three years I kept my interest in Islam to myself. But in my first year at university, Syed and I decided to get married – and I knew it was time to tell my parents. My mum’s initial reaction was, ‘Couldn’t you just live together first?’ She had concerns about me rushing into marriage and the role of women in Muslim households – but no one realised how seriously I was taking my religious conversion. I remember going out for dinner with my dad and him saying, ‘Go on, have a glass of wine. I won’t tell Syed!’ A lot of people assumed I was only converting to Islam to keep his family happy, not because I believed in it.
“Later that year, we had an enormous Bengali wedding, and moved into a flat together – but I certainly wasn’t chained to the kitchen sink. I didn’t even wear the hijab at all to start with, and wore a bandana or a hat instead.
“I was used to getting a certain amount of attention from guys when I went out to clubs and bars, but I had to let that go. I gradually adopted the Islamic way of thinking: I wanted people to judge me for my intelligence and my character – not for the way I looked. It was empowering.
“I’d never been part of a religious minority before, so that was a big adjustment, but my friends were very accepting. Some of them were a bit shocked: ‘What, no drink, no drugs, no men? I couldn’t do that!’ And it took a while for my male friends at university to remember things like not kissing me hello on the cheek any more. I’d have to say, ‘Sorry, it’s a Muslim thing.’
“Over time, I actually became more religious than my husband. We started growing apart in other ways, too. In the end, I think the responsibility of marriage was too much for him; he became distant and disengaged. After seven years together, I decided to get a divorce.
“When I moved back in with my parents, people were surprised I was still wandering around in a headscarf. But if anything, being on my own strengthened my faith: I began to gain a sense of myself as a Muslim, independent of him.
“Islam has given me a sense of direction and purpose. I’m involved with the Muslim Public Affairs Committee, and lead campaigns against Islamophobia, discrimination against women in mosques, poverty and the situation in Palestine. When people call us ‘extremists’ or ‘the dark underbelly of British politics’, I just think it’s ridiculous. There are a lot of problems in the Muslim community, but when people feel under siege it makes progress even more difficult.
“I still feel very much part of white British society, but I am also a Muslim. It has taken a while to fit those two identities together, but now I feel very confident being who I am. I’m part of both worlds and no one can take that away from me.”
Sukina Douglas
Spoken-word poet, 28, London
“Before I found Islam, my gaze was firmly fixed on Africa. I was raised a Rastafarian and used to have crazy-long dreadlocks: one half blonde and the other half black.
“Then, in 2005, my ex-boyfriend came back from a trip to Africa and announced that he’d converted to Islam. I was furious and told him he was ‘losing his African roots’. Why was he trying to be an Arab? It was so foreign to how I lived my life. Every time I saw a Muslim woman in the street I thought, ‘Why do they have to cover up like that? Aren’t they hot?’ It looked oppressive to me.
“Islam was already in my consciousness, but when I started reading the autobiography of Malcolm X at university, something opened up inside me. One day I said to my best friend, Muneera, ‘I’m falling in love with Islam.’ She laughed and said, ‘Be quiet, Sukina!’ She only started exploring Islam to prove me wrong, but soon enough she started believing it, too.
“I was always passionate about women’s rights; there was no way I would have entered a religion that sought to degrade me. So when I came across a book by a Moroccan feminist, it unravelled all my negative opinions: Islam didn’t oppress women; people did.
“Before I converted, I conducted an experiment. I covered up in a long gypsy skirt and headscarf and went out. But I didn’t feel frumpy; I felt beautiful. I realised, I’m not a sexual commodity for men to lust after; I want to be judged for what I contribute mentally.
“Muneera and I took our shahada [declaration of faith] together a few months later, and I cut my dreadlocks off to represent renewal: it was the beginning of a new life.
“Just three weeks after our conversion, the 7/7 bombings happened; suddenly we were public enemy No 1. I’d never experienced racism in London before, but in the weeks after the bombs, people would throw eggs at me and say, ‘Go back to your own country,’ even though this was my country.
“I’m not trying to shy away from any aspect of who I am. Some people dress in Arabian or Pakistani styles, but I’m British and Caribbean, so my national dress is Primark and Topshop, layered with colourful charity-shop scarves.
“Six months after I converted, I got back together with my ex-boyfriend, and now we’re married. Our roles in the home are different, because we are different people, but he would never try to order me around; that’s not how I was raised.
“Before I found Islam, I was a rebel without a cause, but now I have a purpose in life: I can identify my flaws and work towards becoming a better person. To me, being a Muslim means contributing to your society, no matter where you come from.”
Catherine Huntley
Retail assistant, 21, Bournemouth
“My parents always thought I was abnormal, even before I became a Muslim. In my early teens, they’d find me watching TV on a Friday night and say, ‘What are you doing at home? Haven’t you got any friends to go out with?’
“The truth was: I didn’t like alcohol, I’ve never tried smoking and I wasn’t interested in boys. You’d think they’d have been pleased.
“I’ve always been quite a spiritual person, so when I started studying Islam in my first year of GCSEs, something just clicked. I would spend every lunchtime reading about Islam on the computer. I had peace in my heart and nothing else mattered any more. It was a weird experience – I’d found myself, but the person I found wasn’t like anyone else I knew.
“I’d hardly ever seen a Muslim before, so I didn’t have any preconceptions, but my parents weren’t so open-minded. I hid all my Muslim books and headscarves in a drawer, because I was so scared they’d find out.
“When I told my parents, they were horrified and said, ‘We’ll talk about it when you’re 18.’ But my passion for Islam just grew stronger. I started dressing more modestly and would secretly fast during Ramadan. I got very good at leading a double life until one day, when I was 17, I couldn’t wait any longer.
“I sneaked out of the house, put my hijab in a carrier bag and got on the train to Bournemouth. I must have looked completely crazy putting it on in the train carriage, using a wastebin lid as a mirror. When a couple of old people gave me dirty looks, I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like myself.
“A week after my conversion, my mum came marching into my room and said, ‘Have you got something to tell me?’ She pulled my certificate of conversion out of her pocket. I think they’d rather have found anything else at that point – drugs, cigarettes, condoms – because at least they could have put it down to teenage rebellion.
“I could see the fear in her eyes. She couldn’t comprehend why I’d want to give up my freedom for the sake of a foreign religion. Why would I want to join all those terrorists and suicide bombers?
“It was hard being a Muslim in my parents’ house. I’ll never forget one evening, there were two women in burkas on the front page of the newspaper, and they started joking, ‘That’ll be Catherine soon.’
“They didn’t like me praying five times a day either; they thought it was ‘obsessive’. I’d pray right in front of my bedroom door so my mum couldn’t walk in, but she would always call upstairs, ‘Catherine, do you want a cup of tea?’ just so I’d have to stop.
“Four years on, my grandad still says things like, ‘Muslim women have to walk three steps behind their husbands.’ It gets me really angry, because that’s the culture, not the religion. My fiancé, whom I met eight months ago, is from Afghanistan and he believes that a Muslim woman is a pearl and her husband is the shell that protects her. I value that old-fashioned way of life: I’m glad that when we get married he’ll take care of paying the bills. I always wanted to be a housewife anyway.
“Marrying an Afghan man was the cherry on the cake for my parents. They think I’m completely crazy now. He’s an accountant and actually speaks better English than I do, but they don’t care. The wedding will be in a mosque, so I don’t think they’ll come. It hurts to think I’ll never have that fairytale wedding, surrounded by my family. But I hope my new life with my husband will be a lot happier. I’ll create the home I’ve always wanted, without having to feel the pain of people judging me.”
alhamdullillah fratello! più siamo e meglio è!
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