Muslim History Month poster- artist Siddhesh Gautam

By Mariya Salim
DELHI, India, Mar 18 2026 (IPS)

In public discourse today, Muslims often appear as subjects of debate rather than authors of their own histories. Discussions about Muslim societies tend to revolve around geopolitics, security or conflict, leaving little space for the cultural, artistic and intellectual traditions that have shaped Muslim communities across centuries.

Reclaiming these narratives is therefore about reclaiming narrative authority. As a Muslim woman, I have often seen how Muslim voices are sidelined even when conversations centre on our own communities and pasts. It was within this context that I started Muslim History Month, together with my friend and colleague Ashwini KP, currently UN Special Rapporteur on Racism, in 2020, choosing to mark it during the month of Ramadan. Hosted on www.zariya.online, the initiative emerged from a simple conviction: communities must have the space to document and narrate their own histories.

Mariya Salim

They remind us that history is not only about remembering the past but also about challenging exclusion and reshaping how societies understand themselves. Muslim History Month builds on this legacy by creating a platform where Muslims, and others who are allies, themselves reflect on the diversity, complexity and richness of their historical and cultural experiences.

What began as a modest collaborative project has since developed into a global platform bringing together writers, scholars, artists and activists to explore overlooked dimensions of Muslim histories. Contributors have written from Egypt, the United States, Palestine, Nepal and Russia, among others, representing a range of communities including Pasmanda, Tsakhurs, Roma and Uyghur Muslims. This year alone there are contributors from over 6 countries, from Lebanon and Palestine to India, Egypt and Indonesia.

The urgency of documenting these histories is reflected in the commitment of the contributors themselves. Rima Barakat, an academic in Islamic Art History from the Lebanese American University (LAU), wrote her contribution this year from Beirut. Explaining why she chose to participate in our endeavour despite living amid ongoing conflict, she observed:

“War always incites me to act culturally and to contribute amidst political turmoil. Historically, during World War I and World War II, artists and writers produced prolifically and contributed to sustaining a cultural economy. That is what I do today and how survival is measured by cultural and artistic endurance.”

Mihrab at the Jami Masjid, 17th century, Bijapur, India. Photo- Author Rajarshi Sengupta

Her words capture something fundamental about the role of culture in difficult times. Artistic expression is often treated as secondary to more immediate political realities. Yet history repeatedly shows that culture can become one of the most powerful ways communities endure, remember and rebuild.

The first edition of Muslim History Month brought together writers from different parts of the world to document overlooked aspects of Muslim communities. Contributors wrote about subjects ranging from Sheedi Muslims in Pakistan to what Ramadan/Ramzaan means. The second edition shifted the focus toward Muslim women from across the world who are no longer with us, many of whose contributions have faded from historical memory, from architect Zaha Hadid to Indian Spy Noor Inayat Khan. By revisiting their lives and work, the edition sought to address the erasures that often shape how Muslim women’s life and experiences are recorded.

The third edition, launched this year, turns its attention to Muslim art and architecture. Rather than limiting the discussion to monumental structures or gallery-based art alone, the edition explores a wider spectrum of creative practices. Art and architecture here include performance traditions, Calligraphy and mosque architecture, craft practices like Rogan Art, cultural rituals like wearing Amulets and everyday acts of creativity through which communities’ express faith, identity and belonging.

One of the contributions by Kawther Alkholy Ramadan in Canada for instance reflects on the aftermath of the Afzaal family murders in London, Ontario. In 2021, the Afzaal family was deliberately targeted and killed in an act of anti-Muslim violence that deeply affected the local community. Rather than focusing solely on the violence of the attack, Ramadan’s piece examines how Muslim women responded through creative and cultural expression.

Stories such as these challenge conventional assumptions about what counts as art. They show how creativity often emerges most powerfully in moments of crisis, when communities search for ways to process trauma and reaffirm their presence.

Another contribution from Indonesia by Adzka Haniina Albarri, for instance explores the performative art known as Shalawat Musawa. Shalawat refers to devotional invocations offered by Muslims in honour of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) The article examines how Shalawat Musawa has become a space where discussions around gender equality can be articulated. By encouraging women’s participation in a devotional practice historically dominated by men, performers are using art to engage with evolving debates about gender and social justice.

Across the edition, similar stories emerge from different parts of the world. Some pieces engage with contemporary artists, including an interview with world renowned Tunisian calligrapher Karim Jabbari, articles by Palestinian jewellery designer Mai Zarkawi and Egyptian academic Balsam Abdul Rahman Saleh. Others explore artistic traditions shaped by migration, diaspora and local cultural histories.

Muslim History Month III highlights how artistic expression remains embedded in everyday life. From neighbourhood cultural initiatives, architectural marvels, discussions on the Bihari Script Quran in Dallas Museum, to devotional performances, these practices reveal how creativity continues to shape the social and spiritual landscapes of Muslim communities.

They also illustrate the diversity within Muslim cultural production. Muslim societies are far from monolithic, and neither are their artistic traditions.

At a time when public discourse frequently reduces Muslims to political headlines or security narratives, these stories offer an important counterpoint. They remind us that Muslim histories are also histories of creativity, scholarship, craftsperson-ship and cultural exchange.

Documenting these histories is itself an act of preservation. History, and for that matter the present that remains unwritten, are easily forgotten or misrepresented. When communities claim authority to narrate their own pasts and present, they challenge the structures that have historically excluded them from broader cultural narratives. Therefore, Muslim History Month, then, is not only about looking back. It is also about shaping how Muslim histories will be understood in the future.

As Rima Barakat’s reflection from Beirut reminds us, even in times marked by war and uncertainty, cultural production persists. For many communities, it is precisely through artistic endurance that survival itself is measured.

Beyond the stereotypes and headlines that dominate public discourse lies a far richer narrative, one shaped by art, architecture, memory and the collective imagination of communities determined to tell their own stories.

Mariya Salim is co-founder of Zariya. She is a Human Rights activist and an international SGBV expert based in Delhi India.
https://zariya.online/category/muslim-history-month-iii/

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Zakia Soman and Dr Noorjehan Safia Niaz are determined to ensure Muslim women take their rightful place in society.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Dec 10 2021 (IPS)

Discriminated in society and concerned about the discrimination of women in their homes, the two women who co-founded the Bhartiya Muslim Mahila Andolan (BMMA) started the movement to further Muslim women’s leadership and help them reclaim their rights.

In an exclusive interview with IPS, Dr Noorjehan Safia Niaz and Zakia Soman say they started the BMMA or the Indian Muslim Women’s Movement to address communal tensions and prejudice within India and the inherent patriarchal prejudices faced within their homes and beyond.

Both Niaz and Soman say the ‘communal’ tensions, parlance for prejudice and violence against the Muslim minority in India, shaped their understandings of gender and identity. This led them to stand firmly on principles of gender justice and reforms – leading to the formation of BMMA. Since 2007 this movement has grown to more than 50,000 women.

Soman says she became conscious of her Muslim identity while interacting with women survivors of the Gujarat riots in 2002 in Ahmedabad. During these riots, many Muslim women were singled out and subjected to sexual violence.

“Gujarat riots were preceded by 9/11 (the attack on the World Trade Centre in New York in 2001) and the so-called war on terror. I felt a huge burden of my identity. My Muslim name invoked curiosity wherever I went,” Soman says.

She realised she was not alone, and many Muslim women shared her feelings.

“On the one hand, there was communalism and communal violence coupled with state neglect. On the other hand, we faced discrimination at home and within the family, wrongly in the name of religion.”

Soman says she was in an “abusive relationship”, and she and other Muslim women “decided to join hands and take charge of our situation.”

BMMA members in a leadership training program. The organisation has grown to more than 50 000 women and they have achieved significant successes.

The BMMA was born out of these sentiments to change a communal, patriarchal world.

For Niaz, the journey began in 1992, just after Babri Masjid, a mosque in Ayodhya, was demolished. What followed was communal violence across the country. Eighteen Muslims were murdered in Ayodhya following the demolition and houses and shops torched. Across the country, including in Mumbai, around 2,000 people were killed.

This communal violence and insecurity were the reasons Muslim women emerged as community leaders, she said.

“By this time, there was also a deeper understanding of all issues, especially of the core basic need for education, livelihood, health, security,” Niaz says. “Additionally, we also had seen from close quarters the legal discrimination that Muslim women faced because of lack of a codified Muslim family law.”

This became the core demand of the  BMMA because “we knew that if we don’t demand it, nobody else will. ‘Our Struggle, Our Leadership’ became our slogan. Muslim women must lead based on the values of the Holy Quran and the Indian Constitution. (She must) demand her rights which emanate from her religion and her identity as a citizen of this country,” Niaz says in an exclusive interview with IPS.

“Zakia approached me with the idea of a national platform, and that is how it all began. We worked for two years on the vision, mission, objectives, values and principles that would govern the movement, with other women leaders,” she said.

After speaking to other Muslim women leaders in various states and after two years of deliberations, in 2007, BMMA was formally launched.

Since its formation, BMMA has been leading change from within on various fronts.

Soman and Niaz recall the various victories and associate these with the relentless struggle of the members who continued to fight for their rights despite little to no resources and often felt the community’s ire for “daring to demand their rights’.

One such victory was the Haji Ali judgement which reversed a prohibition of women’s entry into the sanctum sanctorum of the religious shrine, Dargah/Shrine. BMMA had filed the Public Interest Litigation or PIL to stop the discriminatory practice. It was a victory endorsed by the Supreme Court of India and paved the way for women from other communities to demand the end of discrimination at religious places.

Another significant achievement was the filing of a PIL against triple divorce, polygamy and halala. The BMMA was a significant group that had the practice of triple divorce, a method where Muslim men could divorce their wives by merely pronouncing the term ‘Talaaq’ or divorce, thrice to them, abolished in 2019.

Forming Darul-Uloom-e-Niswaan and training 20 women to become qazis or religious scholars is a first in India and considered by both as a major achievement.

“Some of the women whom we have trained have even performed Nikahs (religious weddings), challenging patriarchal norms,” adds Niaz.

Despite the resource crunch and criticism, the leaders in the states and members continue to work with the most marginalised women, addressing issues ranging from applying scholarship schemes for their children and training them in livelihood skills to empowering them with information on Constitutional and Quranic rights

Most of the leaders run centres from their homes, many in poor ghettos to reach those in most need.

The movement and its leaders have been criticised for addressing women’s rights when Islamophobia and communal violence are on the rise.

Change and reform are slow and require continuous efforts and support from the larger community and progressive forces, according to Soman.

“It is not easy to take on the patriarchal religious establishment that has ruled over the community mindsets for decades. Neither is it easy to fight a discriminatory communal order in the face of state apathy,” says Soman.

“I do not care about the opinions of vested interests. I am satisfied when I look at how dozens of the riot survivor women have turned out to be fiery activists in the last two decades,” Soman says. BMMA has created leaders across the country.

“These women were voiceless in the cacophony of conservative men of religion. (The leaders) have now shown the whole world that gender justice is intrinsic to Islam. They have changed the perception about their religion in the eyes of ordinary Indians,” she says.

The path chosen was never easy. They were asked why the State should be involved in matters of shariah. They were insulted and called stooges of the right-right-wing Hindutva. This criticism came from both religious groups and the so-called secular-liberal feminists

With the additional challenge of COVID-19, Niaz is confident that the path chosen is the right one.

“Amid the heightened Islamophobia, lynchings and open calls for annihilating the community by the state and state-backed Hindutva forces, how can BMMA continue to speak for family law reforms in favour of Muslim women,” they were asked

Niaz’s answer is emphatic.

“Because if we don’t continue to speak and highlight the issue, nobody else will.”

The two women and the leaders from the Indian states, bound by shared objectives of empowering and uplifting Muslim women, find strength in each other. Niaz reflects on this relationship.

“We bond with each other within BMMA. I would like to believe we are soul-mates born with a common divinely sanctioned purpose. Just being with each other, talking to each other gives us strength.”

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Sheeba Aslam Fehmi at an event organized by Dhanak, celebrating couples who married under the Special Marriage Act.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Sep 27 2021 (IPS)

When Ali (name changed) proposed to his best friend, little did he know that her parents would take six years to agree to their alliance because he was born into a Muslim family, and they were Hindus.

“Everything they had heard all their life pointed to Muslims being violent, conservative, forceful etc. The idea of me being Muslim and marrying their Hindu daughter was too much to fathom despite them thinking of me highly,” he said in an interview with IPS.

This story is one of the few where the end was ‘happy’, and the family did not bow to societal pressure. However, if one looks at recent propaganda and the increase of Islamophobia in India, one concept which has added fuel to this fire is the fictitious propaganda of ‘Love Jihad’.

Love Jihad is a term propagated by religious fundamentalist groups, alleging a conspiracy by Muslim men to convert non-Muslim girls in the guise of love.

The propagation of this concept is perhaps one reason why Ali had to struggle to convince his wife’s parents that his religion had nothing to do with his love for their daughter.

While it may be easy to counter such a narrative, socially, with more awareness, what has made this term popular and the hate associated with it resulting, in some cases, in violence is the support it has garnered from right-wing political parties and their success at turning such marriages into a criminal offence.

“Social media platforms, such as Facebook and Twitter, host hundreds of pages and handles which post unverified incidents as ‘real news’ of Hindu women being deceived by Muslim men into marrying them and ending up either dead or as captives forced to convert and live in the homes of their supposedly violent Muslim husbands,” says Ashwini KP, an academic and rights activist based in Bangalore.

Challenging the provisions of one such draconian state law passed in the state of Gujarat as Gujarat Freedom of Religion (Amendment) Act, 2021, Advocate Isa Hakim, one of the petitioners’ lawyers, argued: “Amendments (in the Act), read with the discourse around Love Jihad, it is clear that the impugned Act is enacted with nothing but a communal objective and is thereby opposed to the constitutional morality, basic features and fundamental rights guaranteed under Articles 14, 19, 21, 25, and 26 of the Constitution.”

The Gujarat High Court, through an order on August 19, 2021, put a stay on the operation of several sections of the Act, including a provision that termed interfaith marriages as a means for forceful conversion. The order, the court stated, was being passed “to protect the parties solemnising inter-faith marriage from being unnecessarily harassed”. The state government soon after decided to challenge this order in the Supreme Court of India.

Addressing a rally last year in Uttar Pradesh, the chief minister Yogi Adityanath openly proclaimed: “Govt will work to curb ‘Love-Jihad’, we’ll make a law. I warn all those who conceal their identities and play with the respect of our sisters if you do not mend your ways, your ‘Ram naam satya’ journey (a phase associated with people being taken to be cremated) will begin”. Therefore, it is not surprising that in a state whose chief minister makes such open threats, right-wing groups have used love Jihad to stoke communal tensions and rioting. A total of five states in India, where the BJP is in power, have laws based on the conspiracy theory of Love Jihad, without actually using the phrase.

“It is also to undermine the agency of 21st-century Hindu women. We are a society that is afraid of its own daughters, and to keep a check on them prohibiting them from making their own choices, they (current regime) have brought out very Islamophobic and communal legislation under the garb of a safety and security issue for ‘their’ women,” says Sheeba Aslam Fehmi, research scholar and journalist in an exclusive interview with IPS.

Fehmi, also the president of Dhanak, works to protect the couples’ right to choose marriage or relationship partners. The organisation supports couples in inter-faith and inter-caste marriages.

She told IPS they also try to assist interfaith couples with safe houses to ensure they do not become targets of right-wing attacks.

Popular Indian jewellery brand Tanishq withdrew this advert with a depiction of an inter-faith marriage. It said while the campaign was to celebrate diversity it had prompted reactions “contrary to its objective”.

It is perturbing that couples who want to marry under the ‘Special Marriage Act’ (an Act passed by the Indian Parliament allowing interfaith marriages without conversion) have a section, which is now being challenged, where a 30-day notice is publicly displayed, inviting objections, before the marriage is registered.

Shital (name changed), shared with IPS how she received threatening calls from some right-wing groups once she and her Muslim partner decided to register under the Act.

“My Aadhar card (national ID) details were made public on a Facebook group. My parents, who approved of our alliance, received calls where they were threatened with ‘dire consequences’ if they did not stop our marriage,” Shital said. She called the marriage off because of these security concerns.

Asif Iqbal, the co-founder of Dhanak, said in an exclusive interview to IPS that they started the organisation because there was no support system for interfaith couples trying to marry using the Special Marriage Act. The objective was to organise people against religious fanaticism.

“I was made to sit for six hours in a police station in Delhi. The investigating officer was trying to enquire about a possible conspiracy as I was the last person an interfaith couple spoke to before they eloped. The boy was Muslim, and the girl Hindu,” said Iqbal.

The fear of vigilante groups, in the online and in actual physical spaces, is so prevalent that even brands advertising using the idea of inter-faith marriages, particularly where the boy is Muslim, are targeted as promoters of Love Jihad. A recent example was a popular jewellery brand depicting a Hindu woman and a Muslim man getting married. The advert was trolled on social media, that the company removed the advertisement from all forums.

For couples looking to challenge the draconian laws, the only recourse is the courts. However, the worrying feature is that Love Jihad targets Muslims and criminalises its men in a society with frequent incidences of Islamophobia.

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A girl from the Nat community performing – Credit: Department for Social Justice

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Jul 30 2021 (IPS)

Branded as being born ‘criminal’ 150 years ago under British colonial rule, De-Notified Tribes (DNTs) continue to bear the brunt of the various laws that stigmatised them since 1871.

Dakxin Chhara, the award-winning filmmaker and DNT activist, shared how the DNT community in India continues living an abysmal existence because of a centuries-old criminality stigma. Chhara calls his community an “invisible population” owing to their absence from government records, welfare schemes and a complete lack of political will to address their marginalisation.

“Even within a village in India, one can see the clear demarcation of localities based on caste, religion etc. One of the most marginalised, Dalits (former untouchables) also have an area where they stay, but for DNTs, there is no space within this structure,” Chhara said in an exclusive interview with IPS. “They are not considered worthy of being part of the village, and most end up living in jungles, moving from one place to another, isolated and stigmatised.”

Filmmaker and activist Dakxin Chhara. Credit: Handout

In 1871, nearly 150 tribes were notified to be criminals by the ‘Criminal Tribes Act’ passed by the British, meaning, just being born into one of these tribes made one a criminal. The absurdity of the rationale behind this discriminatory law, introduced in 1871 in India, a society largely based on caste and caste-based discrimination, can be seen in the British official’s introduction to the bill. He said: “People from time immemorial have been pursuing the caste system defined job-positions: weaving, carpentry and such were hereditary jobs. So, there must have been hereditary criminals also who pursued their forefathers’ profession.”

Academics say the creation of these criminal tribes was a “colonial stereotype”. It was to justify the British to discipline or control a section of the population who did not fit into the colonial power’s moral order they were trying to enforce on rural society. Among the worst victims were communities like the DNTs, who did not have a sedentary lifestyle. This made it more difficult to demand their subservience.

The Criminal Tribes Act, 1871, was repealed on August 31, 1952, resulting in the former criminal tribes ‘de-notified’ of this discriminatory tag. However, this was only on paper.

As in most groups, the women from these communities bear many layers of marginalisation. Sakila Khatoon from the north Indian state of Bihar belongs to the Nat community. Married off at a very early age, Sakila pursued her education and worked within the development sector on issues concerning her community. Most women she works with, however, have not had that opportunity, she told IPS.

Women from the Nat community face prejudice and stereotypes because of their involvement in sex work, and those who wish to explore other avenues of livelihood are discouraged and not treated with dignity. Sex workers from the community not only face stigmatisation but also are targets of police excesses. Khatoon shared how children of these women are often discouraged from pursuing higher education and are recipients of undignified comments from people who know that their parents are sex workers.

“Encouraging and supporting women from our communities to pursue higher education is the key to their upliftment,” Khatoon says.

Vijay (name changed) from the ‘Pardhi’ community in the state of Madhya Pradesh shared how harassment by police led to many people belonging to his community commit suicide and how the authorities continue to ostracise them. Youth are arbitrarily arrested on mere suspicion because they are seen as habitual offenders.

Over the years, there haven’t been any genuine attempts to address the plight of the DNT communities, and commissions aimed at improving their condition have failed.

Shiney Vashisht, a PhD research scholar at the Jamia Milia Islamia in New Delhi, who worked as a researcher at the National Commission for Denotified, Nomadic and Semi Nomadic tribes, confirms this.

“The National Commissions established and re-established over the years, have done nothing close to substantial for the DNTs except for half-heartedly recommending welfare steps, that are a mere compilation of suggestions from previous commission reports, based on population projections of decades-old data,” Vashisht says.

Based on her engagement with leaders from the community and field research, she argues that these communities deserve a designated commission, having a constitutional status on the lines of National Commissions for Backward Classes, Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes.

The commission should generate a database from a national survey of DNTs. The inquiries should have a strong mandate to recommend DNT specific welfare schemes.

Chhara adds that one of the demands of the DNT community is separate reservations. He gives the example of the state of Maharashtra, where within the OBC quota, there is a separate reservation for DNTs and says that a model similar to this should be applicable throughout the country.

Chhara remembers how as children, his sister eventually gave up going to school after the humiliation of being falsely called a thief in front of the entire class and teacher when a few marble balls went missing.

Years later, little has changed. Chhara had to remove his children from their school after the principal told him that because the school’s trustees belonged to the upper caste, the school had clear instructions of not admitting any children from communities that Chhara came from.

“It is not hard to guess that when something like this can happen to a man like me who has won national and international awards, what would the fate and plight of others belonging to our communities be.”

• Mariya Salim is a fellow of IPS UN Bureau

Rama Hansraj

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Jul 2 2021 (IPS)

Two Indian women, one Muslim and the other Dalit (former untouchables), separated by culture and geography, have found common ground in leading change in conflict-torn South Sudan.

Rama Hansraj, a Dalit, grew up in a humble railway colony in Secunderabad. Huma Khan, a Muslim, born and raised in the controversial north Indian city of Faizabad, now Ayodhya, home to the demolished Babri Masjid. Both agree their personal experiences of experiencing and seeing discrimination in India and the world led to their decisions to work in the international humanitarian field in conflict zones.

The women are activists and feminists who, through their experiences of struggle and years of work with India’s most marginalised, decided to work in geographies and contexts which ordinarily many would avoid.

“What else do you expect someone, who has grown up five kilometres (three miles) away from the disputed Babri Masjid site in an atmosphere of constant conflict and communal strife, to want to pursue?” says Khan in an exclusive interview with IPS. She was answering a question on why she chose to work in countries like Iraq and Afghanistan instead of choosing a more comfortable position.

In her last role in South Sudan, Khan was the senior women’s protection advisor, leading the section on conflict-related sexual violence at the United Nations mission in South Sudan (UNMISS). She is now a senior human rights adviser to the UN in Bangladesh.

Hansraj, country director of Save the Children in South Sudan, shared with IPS how her work on the ground in India and her interactions with the development sector motivated her to take up positions outside the country and institutions with decision-making powers.

“For us Dalits, access to basic facilities like education and land is a challenge. We face discrimination even in disasters,” she says while sharing her experience of working post-Tsunami in India.

Here she saw how Dalits, affected by the disaster, were not even allowed to stand in the same queue as others to receive basic aid.

“We started working on developing donor principles in disasters, highlighting the fact that they need to look at the vulnerabilities within the response and how the beneficiary selection needs to be more inclusive. That is when I saw that not working in these bigger organisations was not going to help us,” recalls Hansraj.

Khan spent many years in Gujarat as an independent activist living in resettlement colonies after the communal violence of 2002. There she worked to help rebuild communities and assist in the case of a gang rape survivor. Her lived experiences made her “unapologetically Muslim”.

She recalled how she refused to share the stage at an event organised by an international NGO where women were made to “unveil” as a symbol of freeing them.

Huma Khan

“It was a month after 9/11 that I had a study-cum-work trip planned to the US which I did not want to cancel,” Khan says. “I have had an object thrown at me and been called ‘Taliban’ while walking down a street in the US because I had covered my head to escape the cold.”

Hansraj has been part of anti-caste movements for as long as she can remember, and shared caste discrimination crosses borders and continents and is not only an “Indian problem”.

“Caste travels where Indians travel, and the international development sector is no exception. Indians abroad always assume I am upper caste, because otherwise how could I be in such high positions, being a Dalit,’ she says with sarcasm.

Both Hansraj and Khan were Ford Foundation fellows and got their initial international academic exposure with the fellowship.

One of the driving factors for both moving from India to take up challenging positions in countries like Yemen (for Hansraj) and Darfur and Afghanistan (for Huma) was their disappointment with the development sector in India and its treatment of Muslim and Dalit communities.

“Even if you’re working for a Dalit organisation, the funding decisions were still with those upper caste people sitting in the international NGOs, who basically made decisions for us,” says Hansraj.

“Even today, most positions of power in the development sector are occupied by upper caste individuals who decide what to fund and what not to, instead of letting us decide on our own issues.”

Khan, who co-founded the feminist rights and advocacy group AALI in India, also felt the space to grow, especially for a Muslim woman in the development sector in India, was shrinking, with those who occupied powerful positions continuing to do so for decades.

Both women worked in South Sudan for close to three years. When Khan left the country late last year, she became a senior human rights adviser to the UN in Bangladesh. Hansraj continues to head Save the Children in South Sudan.

South Sudan is the youngest country globally, gaining its independence from the Republic of Sudan in 2011. The country experiences constant instability and conflict since then.

Both Khan and Hansraj, in leading roles, have held interactions, negotiations and led advocacy and action-oriented processes with the leadership in the country, with tribal chiefs and community elders alike.

Constant armed rifts and coming face to face with former armed groups where negotiations were needed to either release abducted women or children, or both did not deter them.

“My team and I were able to facilitate the process of the release of women who were abducted, many as sexual slaves, in the Western Equatoria region of South Sudan. To deal with the leadership in the capital city of Juba was one thing, and to negotiate with the commanders on the ground had challenges of threat for us and especially for those women,” recalls Khan. The negotiation led to the release of dozens of women and children, many of whom were subjected to repeated rape, sexual slavery and forced marriage by members of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-in-Opposition (SPLM-IO).

“For me, my identity and my experiences as a marginalised person mean I can identify myself with conflict-affected communities and communities that have been deprived of their basic freedoms, like South Sudan, ” says Hansraj.

Hansraj shared how she lived in constant fear of being raped when she was in the country in 2015-2016, having witnessed compound break-ins and rampant sexual violence.

“Women and children are abducted in the process of cattle-raiding here. There is intercommunal violence. In India, women and children from Dalit communities were abducted and trafficked for centuries into forced labour and sex work,” she says.

Hansraj feels she imported herself into a context, which is so similar and heart wrenching that sometimes she finds herself caught between emotions and practicalities.

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

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Stop Islamophobia

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Jun 3 2021 (IPS)

A Muslim call centre operator at a COVID-19 ‘war room’, who once saw himself a COVID-warrior, is now unemployed after being falsely branded by a top politician as a key member of a bed-for-bribe scam. He is a victim of the rise in Islamophobia in India as the country grapples with the COVID-19 pandemic – with scant evidence of condemnation from the authorities, say activists.

Early in May, a member of Parliament for the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), Tejasvi Surya, stormed into a COVID-19 ‘war room’ ostensibly to expose an alleged bed-for-bribe scam.

In a video live streamed on his social media and later repeatedly shown by many media houses, he read out 16 names, cherry-picked out of the 205 municipal helpline operators. All the 16 names were Muslims.

In the video, BJP member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA) and Surya’s uncle, Ravi Subramanya, asks: “Have you appointed them to some sort of a madrasa (Islamic school) or a corporation?”.

The ‘war room’ is a Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (BBMP) South zone COVID-19 war room with 400 lines and receives about 3 000 calls from citizens across the city every day, according to reports.

What followed were WhatsApp texts with the names listed by Surya – with the named employees labelled as “terrorists”. The viral messages on social media claimed this “team of terrorists” were scamming patients by offering Intensive Care Unit (ICU) beds at exorbitant fees and even reserving those beds for those in the Muslim community.

According to reports, the 16 were fired. IPS reached out to one of the named call centre operators who spoke to us on condition of anonymity.

“In April this year, I would proudly call myself a ‘COVID warrior’, helping those who needed urgent information related to the disease,” Faiz Akhtar (name changed) said in an exclusive interview. “My heart sank when I saw the term ‘terrorist’ written next to my name in WhatsApp messages soon after the MP called my name out in public alleging corruption against me.”

He told IPS he was taken in a van, like a common criminal, to the police station and had his pictures taken as if he had committed a crime. “Having a Muslim name perhaps was my crime,” he said.

Faiz, who is the sole supporter of his family, said that despite there being no evidence against him and the other 16 people named, he is yet to be reinstated into his job. This despite assurances from the BBMP south zone management.

While India was (and is) reeling under the second wave of Covid-19, which at its height recorded more than 300 000 cases a day, the blatant Islamophobia around the pandemic and misinformation around Indian Muslims and their link to the virus continues.

The past year saw Muslims labelled as ‘corona spreaders’, and this trend has not stopped.

Dr Zafarul Islam Khan, Delhi Minorities Commission former chairperson, in an exclusive interview to IPS, said when the national lockdown was declared in India last year, the Tableeghi Jamaat people were removed from their centre by the police “like they were criminals”.

The Tableeghi Jamaat are an international group of Muslims who gather in Delhi each year for a religious congregation.

The eviction and arrests received significant live media coverage.

The group had already started its annual conference at its centre in the Nizamuddin area in Delhi before the official lockdown was announced.

“They were taken to various ‘quarantine centres’ across Delhi. But these ‘quarantine centres’ were like jails where they were locked up with little care, untimely food, no medicine or doctors,” Khan said.

As the Delhi Minorities Commission chairperson at the time, he relentlessly lobbied authorities in the Delhi government until the conditions of the inmates improved.

Reports indicate that the centre continued to be targeted by police after the COVID-19 emergency was declared.

Later the courts criticized the scapegoating of the congregation, many of whom were foreigners, for the pandemic.

“This was a golden opportunity for the godi (lapdog) media which started a narrative saying that Muslims were executing a heinous and planned conspiracy to spread the coronavirus in the country, and the term “Corona Jihad” was coined to describe this so-called conspiracy,” Khan added.

What aids and abets a stereotype is when it appears to get government sanction and when those seemingly liberal and anti-communal use their position of privilege to further the witch-hunt that a community is facing. There are significant indications that this is the case in India.

Surya’s open pronouncement of select Muslim employees allegedly involved in the bed scam in Bangalore and the Delhi State Government and the Central Government giving separate figures of Tablighi Jamaat related COVID-19 patients in their daily press briefings has made life very difficult for the Muslim minority in India.

Khan wrote a letter to the Health Minister of Delhi saying that it was unfair that the Jamaat cases were mentioned separately – when no other religious communities’ figures were singled out.

“The health minister conceded to my request, and two days later, separate mention of the Jamaat in daily briefings was stopped. A day later, the central government also stopped this questionable practice,” said Khan.

Prateek Sinha, one of the co-founders of a leading fact-checking platform called Altnews, told IPS how communal information had been the mainstay of the Indian misinformation scene right since they started their platform.

“We saw a deliberate attempt to show Muslims in a bad light, trying to ascribe blame for different things that are happening in the country to Muslims,” said Sinha.

During the pandemic, there had been misinformation of all kinds. However, the way Muslims have been made scapegoats by the media, by political parties and liberals alike had been a worrying trend.

From being called Corona Jihadi (a term used to falsely ascribe the spread of the disease by Muslims as a conspiracy to kill non-Muslims) to being singled out in alleged scams without any substantiated evidence, India’s largest minority continues to face a pandemic of discrimination and scapegoating, within the larger pandemic that the world is facing.

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

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Credit: Twitter @Dr_Aqsa_Shaikh

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, May 7 2021 (IPS)

When Dr Aqsa Sheikh Tweeted and asked if she was the only transgender person to head a vaccination centre, it seemed extraordinary that in a country with 1.3 billion people, that this could be true.

“Can I lay claim to be the only #Transgender person to head a #Covid #Vaccination Centre in India? Will be very happy to have company of other Trans Folks in this spot,” she wrote on March 3, 2021.

India had turned countless hospitals into COVID-19 vaccination centres – and Sheikh was, and still is, the only transwoman heading one.

Born and raised in Mumbai, Dr Aqsa Sheikh is a proud Muslim transwoman. She is presently living in Delhi and working as the Associate Professor of Community Medicine at Hamdard Institute of Medical Sciences and Research. She is the nodal officer of a COVID-19 Vaccination Center, involved in COVID-19 surveillance, and engaged in vaccine and transmission research. Despite her qualifications even in a pandemic, the idea of a trans-Muslim woman as a doctor defies stereotypes.

“I haven’t faced any active face-to-face discrimination. However, a lot of name-calling on social media is common. In my videos, I get comments of people asking whether I am a man or a woman or why is my voice so masculine,” Sheikh told Inter Press Service (IPS) in an exclusive interview.

“People call us ‘Madarsa chhaap’ (derogatorily referring to being from an Islamic School), ‘Hijras’ (a term sometimes used to refer to trans people in a derogatory manner) and so on.”

When asked how her gender identity affects her daily professional interactions, especially during the pandemic, Sheikh says that often “our stories and our identity travel to people before us”, so people look at her through many lenses.

The intersections of her identity are many, Muslim, transgender, woman, leader, health activist.

She credits two aspects of her life for saving her from stigmatisation often experienced in the trans community. Firstly, a lot of time has passed since she transitioned, and secondly, she is in a position of privilege where she is a provider rather than someone who is seeking the service. Both these make her less of a target for discrimination.

Coming out as a trans woman, however, has not been an easy task for Dr Sheikh.

When she broke the news to her family that she was a transwoman, there was anger, denial, and rebuttal.

She says she understands that for a family which has never had exposure to a transgender person, to accept that someone they have raised as a boy for 20 years now says and affirms that they are a woman was difficult to accept. The transition, which involved surgical and legal transitions, met with increased resistance because she came from a conservative Muslim background.

“While my mother stays with me, the rest of the family is not very comfortable affirming these familial bonds, but then you can’t get everything in life,” Sheikh says. “I am happy that I have been able to do what I wanted to do despite all the opposition from society, and that’s what matters at the end of the day.”

Sheikh also emphasises there is a lot of homophobia within the Muslim community, like most communities. Still, she believes that acceptance of trans and intersex people is a little better, especially for those who transition.

The most important thing, according to Sheikh, is to be comfortable with oneself and be secure in the knowledge that she is not doing anything wrong.

“When I was confident that I was right, what I am doing is not wrong or anti-religion, then I was able to talk more about it, I was able to convince more people about it, I was able to break down more walls,” she says.

According to Sheikh, the intersectionality of identities at play and understanding them is also imperative.

“You are not just a Muslim person, or just a queer person, just a doctor. You are not just a woman or just an Indian. You are all of them together,” she says. “So, I, for example, do not only speak on the transgender issues, but I also speak on the different issues of the Muslim community. I speak on the issues faced by the Kashmiri Muslims, those faced by the patients while receiving healthcare irrespective of whether they are cis (assigned and identify with a gender given at birth) or trans.”

She feels once people see you as someone who understands intersectionality (the interconnectedness of aspects of race, class, gender, and religion), acceptance increases.

The transgender community is highly vulnerable, says Sheikh and accessing general, COVID-19, or transition-specific healthcare is challenging.

“With COVID-19 and then the subsequent national lockdowns, the number of service providers available for providing services to the trans persons saw a decrease,” Sheikh says. “During such times, the stigmatisation also always increases because one is looking for scapegoats.”

She says the blame for transmission is often placed on minority groups, like the Tablighi Jamaat or trans persons.

Mental health services, which are a privilege for any person in India to afford, became difficult to access during the pandemic.

“Especially (difficult) when it came to queer-affirmative mental healthcare and counselling. The pandemic has been a tough and challenging time for the trans community with so many losing their traditional livelihood measures,” Sheikh says.

With all the challenges that the present pandemic brings with it, she continues with her activism.

Apart from her professional medical engagements, she runs an NGO called Human Solidarity Foundation.

“We started a charitable clinic in Zakir Nagar this year. With the second wave of COVID-19, apart from distributing food kits and other work, we are doing a teleconsultation and also helping out people with COVID-19 resources,” she says.

Sheikh’s education was funded by Zakaat Funds (money to be compulsorily given by Muslims for charitable causes), and it’s her dream that the potential of children is not lost because of lack of resources. Eradication of hunger, health and education for all, sensitisation and awareness are her goals.

“I am not sure whether we can achieve these in my lifetime, but that’s what I really look forward to.”

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Nishat Hussain coordinating with local authorities in Rajasthan to ensure relief reaches those most affected by the lockdown.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Mar 1 2021 (IPS)

Women living in rural India and those belonging to marginalised communities faced an enormous burden during the COVID-19 pandemic shutdowns, including domestic violence, loss of financial assistance and income, says Rehana Adeeb, a grassroots Muslim woman leader and activist.

Adeeb leads Astitva, an NGO in western Uttar Pradesh working with women from Dalit and Muslim communities.

In an interview with IPS, she talked about the various kinds of violence that women, especially Dalit and Muslim women in rural India, had to face when the Government, without warning, announced a nationwide lockdown to contain the pandemic.

“With most menfolk migrating back to their villages from the cities where they had moved to earn a living, the women did not have access to any financial assistance from them which they would earlier use to pay for their children’s education and household expenses,” says Adeeb.

“Women who did home-based work, such as sewing, to make ends meet were also left with no additional source of income, with markets shut.”

“Forced marriages, child marriage and domestic violence were on the rise, and these were cases where we had to intervene immediately,” she said.

Rehana Adeeb, Activist and community organiser who leads the NGO Astitva in Western Uttar Pradesh.

The experiences of these women reflected and continues to reflect the situation elsewhere in the world, and while society was grappling a global pandemic, an unprecedented increase in various forms of violence against women and girls, was being witnessed worldwide.

The United Nations described the increased violence against women in India during the pandemic as a “shadow pandemic“.

The number of domestic violence complaints that the National Commission for Women in India received doubled from 123 distress calls to 239 domestic violence complaints, from March 23, 2020, to April 16, 2020, it was reported.

While women’s helplines across the country were inundated with domestic violence complaints, the violence faced by women belonging to the most marginalised sections of society needed and still needs urgent attention.

“Reports have shown that incidents of discrimination against women and girls have increased during the pandemic, in particular against women belonging to minority groups, especially those at the bottom of the economic ladder,” says UN Special Rapporteur on violence against women, Dubravka Simonovic, in an exclusive interview with IPS.

She stressed that with many countries reporting dramatic increases in domestic violence, including intimate partner violence and sexual abuse, as a result of complying with social confinement measures, the home had become a place of fear for many women and children. With restricted movement, financial constraints and uncertainty, perpetrators were emboldened, and the situation provided them with additional power and control.

In India, another factor that added to Muslim women’s plight was the rise in Islamophobia, which manifested itself in the online campaign known as the “Corona Jihad”. Muslims were falsely targeted and said to be spreading the virus with the malicious intention of infecting non-Muslims.

The courts dismissed this as being false but not before this dangerous narrative had led to an increase in the already prevalent discrimination against the community.

Media reports showed how women belonging to Muslim communities were denied services at hospitals. The reports gave details of campaigns and calls, at times from those in power, demanding an economic boycott of Muslim communities, which had ramifications for the women.

Nishat Hussain coordinating with local authorities in Rajasthan to ensure relief reaches those most affected by the lockdown.

Nishat Hussain, Rajasthan state convenor of the Bhartiya Muslim Mahila Andolan (Indian Muslim Women’s Movement) and the non-profit National Muslim Women Welfare Society led COVID relief activities throughout the state during the lockdown.

“One of the biggest problems that the women I work with faced was because of their identity as Muslim women,” Hussain said.

With the stereotypes and hate speech against the community, women had to fight their way, battling even the administration at times, to reach out for support.

Most of Hussain’s staff are Muslim women, who volunteered during this time to reach women in areas where basic necessities such as food were not reaching families.

“Access to health, medicines were very difficult, we tried to intervene and provided women and young girls with menstrual hygiene kits. Truckloads of food with the help of well-wishers and friends were distributed to all those in need, irrespective of their religion or identity,” she says.

Addressing violence within families during the pandemic has become vital, and there are many interventions by local and national organisations that are leading this effort.

Breakthrough India, for instance, designed a campaign along with the older adolescents in the field areas by the name of “dakhalandazi zaroori hai” (Intervention is a necessity), which later led to a larger campaign called “Dakhal Do” or “Intervene”.

“Adolescents developed posters against Domestic Violence and displayed them along with relevant phone numbers in prominent places in their villages.

Breakthrough also organised online training of District Legal Services Authorities as well as the Aanganwadi workers for effective response to victims,” said Nayana Chowdhury, who is the director of programs at Breakthrough India.

“Breakthrough also strengthened the skills of the Panchayati Raj Institution leaders to address the needs of the community in the time of the pandemic.

Simonovic stressed that the crisis highlighted and reinforced the gaps and shortcomings at the national, regional, and global levels in preventing and combating the pandemic of gender-based violence against women.

She wants to look at COVID-19 pandemic as an opportunity to bring about the much needed change to overcome the pandemic of violence against women, including women from marginalised and minority groups, by, “amending legislation and practice that reinforces gender stereotypes and prevents victims from accessing justice; changing policies that fail to offer victims adequate and timely services such as shelters, protection orders and help lines; addressing social and cultural beliefs that perpetuate myths that blame women for the violence they suffer”.

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

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Masooma Ranalvi is the founder of WeSpeakOut and has campaigned to end FGM/C.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Feb 6 2021 (IPS)

Survivors of female genital mutilation or cutting (FGM/C), are determined to share their stories to end this practice – even though they face ostracisation by their communities.

Masooma Ranalvi, an FGM/C survivor and founder of ‘WeSpeakOut’, an organisation committed to eliminating FGM/C or khafd/khafz/khatna explains that FGM/C is practised by various communities in India but is prominently practised among the Dawoodi Bohras.

However, speaking out against the harmful practice has not been easy for Ranalvi and the many others who have dared to relive their childhood memory of being ‘cut’ and share it with the world to end it some-day.

“There is a culture of fear around this issue, a culture of silence. Many do not speak out as there are social boycotts against who do – unofficially declared but carried out by the community,” says Ranalvi in an exclusive interview with IPS.

“Twenty years ago, even burial rights after death would be denied to those who dared to differ and economic sanctions against families who did not comply and spoke out,” says Ranalvi, who has been a leading voice in pushing for a legal and social end to FGM/C in India and across the globe.

According to a study conducted by ‘WeSpeakOut’, of the two million people who belong to India’s Bohra community and its diaspora, nearly 75%-80% of Bohra women are subject to FGM/C.

Ranalvi is also a petitioner in the legal action initiated in 2017 by lawyer Sunita Tiwari.

Tiwari filed a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) in the Supreme Court of India seeking a ban on FGM/C among the Dawoodi Bohra Muslim Community. This practice, which has been the community’s best-kept secret and practised by many others worldwide, is increasingly being spoken about, especially by the survivors.

Mariya Taher is the co-founder of Sahiyo an organisation aimed at ending FGM/C across the globe.

FGM/C involves the partial or total removal of external female genitalia or other injuries to the female genital organs for non-medical reasons. Religion, culture, and tradition are often cited as motives for those practising it. There are about 92 countries where FGM/C is practised out of which 51 countries have expressly prohibited it under their national laws in some form or another.

In Asia, however, there is not a single country which has a law enacted to prohibit the harmful practice.

Based in the United States, Mariya Taher has co-founded Sahiyo, a non-profit working to end the practice globally and among the Bohra Community. She is a survivor and has been active passing state-level legislation in Massachusetts against it.

“It took five years to do so, but this past August 2020, we were able to pass a law. I am currently working with a group in Connecticut to pass a state law there. In the U.S., while we have a federal law, we also need state legislation, only 39 states have laws against FGM/C at this point,” Taher told IPS.

Aarefa Johari, journalist and co-founder of Sahiyo, adds that “enacting legislation against FGM/C has to be preceded by, accompanied and after that followed by intense and robust community activism at the grassroots level. It needs education, awareness and dialogue.”

Aarefa Johari is a journalist and co-founder of Sahiyo

A survivor, she believes that though “a law against FGM/C is vital as a deterrent and as a means of making the State’s stance on the practice clear, laws alone cannot bring an end to deep-rooted social norms.” This would require a long-term commitment and legal intervention to change the community’s mindset, Johari says.

Since many within the various communities use religion to justify the practice, it is important to note that there has been extensive research and writing around the issue by Islamic scholars and others, based on Quranic texts and Hadith (a collection of traditions containing sayings and actions of Prophet Muhammad) which discredit the practice as Un-Islamic.

Karamah, Muslim Women Lawyers for Human Rights, in a study published on FGM/C, concludes that FGM/C is a harmful practice that lacks religious mandate.

“The Qur’an does not provide a single verse or instance in which female khitan (FGM/C) is mentioned as obligatory or desirable. Furthermore, contrary to general belief, there is no single authentic hadith of the Prophet that requires female khitan.”

Ten-year-old Munira’s (name changed) aunt held her hand and took her to the basement of her empty house one Sunday evening promising to play a game with her. Little did Munira know the prize of this game, where she was asked to lie on a table with her underpants down and her lips sealed by her aunt to prevent her screams being heard, would end in her being scarred for life. She was ‘cut’ by a member of her family. This memory resonates with most survivors of the practice.

“It is never easy for anyone who has experienced some form of gender-based violence to share their story … My process took years, and it involved me first learning about it, then writing about it. The first thing I ever wrote was for the imagining equality project,” Taher says.

“It took many years after that project for me to get comfortable to share it on camera or to be interviewed by the media about my experience. But even as I grew comfortable, I experienced multiple forms of backlash.”

The impact on her immediate community meant that some of her relatives stopped speaking to her.

“Our movement (to end FGM/C) itself has faced backlash both publicly and privately from the community – we are trolled a lot online, there are attempts to constantly discredit the stories of survivors and silence those who speak up,” says Johari.

The trolling has not stopped the campaign to end FGM/C.

“It is important to emphasise that this is a sign of the importance of our work, and we get as much (or more) positive support from community members as we get negative brickbats,” Johari adds.

Many women and some community members against FGM/C sadly choose to remain silent in the interest of the ‘larger cause’, given the Islamophobic climate that exists.

Taher says that it is difficult not to see the intersection of oppressions when working on FGM/C, Islamophobia, unfortunately, being one of them.

“Particularly with the false assumption that only Muslims practice FGM/C. FGM/C is global … occurs in every continent in the world except Antarctica. And where FGM/C does occur in Islamic communities, it is a very small minority,” Taher says.

“The truth is FGM/C is a social norm justified in all sorts of ways – religion, health, social status, marriageability, tradition, culture, etc. This social norm was started before the advent of Islam and Christianity – meaning it pre-dates those religions. Yet, in doing this work today, speaking out against Islamophobia as well as xenophobia is vital when working on FGM/C.”

Ranalvi said the decision to turn to legal action only happened when all else had failed.

“We knocked at the doors of the courts when all attempts at dialogue with the clergy and leadership within the community failed. The support of enacted laws and of institutional bodies to give power to our resistance and enable us to take control over our bodies and help end this violation, is imperative,” adds Ranalvi.

As the International Day of Zero Tolerance for Female Genital Mutilation on February 6th nears, it can only be hoped that FGM/C, a widely prevalent but dark secret that violates women’s human rights and practised by various communities across the world, ends.

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Excerpt:

Masooma Ranalvi is the founder of WeSpeakOut and has campaigned to end FGM/C.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Jan 28 2021 (IPS)

Survivors of female genital mutilation or cutting (FGM/C), are determined to share their stories to end this practice – even though they face ostracisation by their communities.

Masooma Ranalvi, an FGM/C survivor and founder of ‘WeSpeakOut’, an organisation committed to eliminating FGM/C or khafd/khafz/khatna explains that FGM/C is practised by various communities in India but is prominently practised among the Dawoodi Bohras.

However, speaking out against the harmful practice has not been easy for Ranalvi and the many others who have dared to relive their childhood memory of being ‘cut’ and share it with the world to end it some-day.

“There is a culture of fear around this issue, a culture of silence. Many do not speak out as there are social boycotts against who do – unofficially declared but carried out by the community,” says Ranalvi in an exclusive interview with IPS.

“Twenty years ago, even burial rights after death would be denied to those who dared to differ and economic sanctions against families who did not comply and spoke out,” says Ranalvi, who has been a leading voice in pushing for a legal and social end to FGM/C in India and across the globe.

According to a study conducted by ‘WeSpeakOut’, of the two million people who belong to India’s Bohra community and its diaspora, nearly 75%-80% of Bohra women are subject to FGM/C.

Ranalvi is also a petitioner in the legal action initiated in 2017 by lawyer Sunita Tiwari.

Tiwari filed a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) in the Supreme Court of India seeking a ban on FGM/C among the Dawoodi Bohra Muslim Community. This practice, which has been the community’s best-kept secret and practised by many others worldwide, is increasingly being spoken about, especially by the survivors.

Mariya Taher is the co-founder of Sahiyo an organisation aimed at ending FGM/C across the globe.

In Asia, however, there is not a single country which has a law enacted to prohibit the harmful practice.

Based in the United States, Mariya Taher has co-founded Sahiyo, a non-profit working to end the practice globally and among the Bohra Community. She is a survivor and has been active passing state-level legislation in Massachusetts against it.

“It took five years to do so, but this past August 2020, we were able to pass a law. I am currently working with a group in Connecticut to pass a state law there. In the U.S., while we have a federal law, we also need state legislation, only 39 states have laws against FGM/C at this point,” Taher told IPS.

Aarefa Johari, journalist and co-founder of Sahiyo, adds that “enacting legislation against FGM/C has to be preceded by, accompanied and after that followed by intense and robust community activism at the grassroots level. It needs education, awareness and dialogue.”

Aarefa Johari is a journalist and co-founder of Sahiyo

Since many within the various communities use religion to justify the practice, it is important to note that there has been extensive research and writing around the issue by Islamic scholars and others, based on Quranic texts and Hadith (a collection of traditions containing sayings and actions of Prophet Muhammad) which discredit the practice as Un-Islamic.

Karamah, Muslim Women Lawyers for Human Rights, in a study published on FGM/C, concludes that FGM/C is a harmful practice that lacks religious mandate.

“The Qur’an does not provide a single verse or instance in which female khitan (FGM/C) is mentioned as obligatory or desirable. Furthermore, contrary to general belief, there is no single authentic hadith of the Prophet that requires female khitan.”

Ten-year-old Munira’s (name changed) aunt held her hand and took her to the basement of her empty house one Sunday evening promising to play a game with her. Little did Munira know the prize of this game, where she was asked to lie on a table with her underpants down and her lips sealed by her aunt to prevent her screams being heard, would end in her being scarred for life. She was ‘cut’ by a member of her family. This memory resonates with most survivors of the practice.

“It is never easy for anyone who has experienced some form of gender-based violence to share their story … My process took years, and it involved me first learning about it, then writing about it. The first thing I ever wrote was for the imagining equality project,” Taher says.

“It took many years after that project for me to get comfortable to share it on camera or to be interviewed by the media about my experience. But even as I grew comfortable, I experienced multiple forms of backlash.”

The impact on her immediate community meant that some of her relatives stopped speaking to her.

“Our movement (to end FGM/C) itself has faced backlash both publicly and privately from the community – we are trolled a lot online, there are attempts to constantly discredit the stories of survivors and silence those who speak up,” says Johari.

The trolling has not stopped the campaign to end FGM/C.

“It is important to emphasise that this is a sign of the importance of our work, and we get as much (or more) positive support from community members as we get negative brickbats,” Johari adds.

Many women and some community members against FGM/C sadly choose to remain silent in the interest of the ‘larger cause’, given the Islamophobic climate that exists.

Taher says that it is difficult not to see the intersection of oppressions when working on FGM/C, Islamophobia, unfortunately, being one of them.

“Particularly with the false assumption that only Muslims practice FGM/C. FGM/C is global … occurs in every continent in the world except Antarctica. And where FGM/C does occur in Islamic communities, it is a very small minority,” Taher says.

“The truth is FGM/C is a social norm justified in all sorts of ways – religion, health, social status, marriageability, tradition, culture, etc. This social norm was started before the advent of Islam and Christianity – meaning it pre-dates those religions. Yet, in doing this work today, speaking out against Islamophobia as well as xenophobia is vital when working on FGM/C.”

Ranalvi said the decision to turn to legal action only happened when all else had failed.

“We knocked at the doors of the courts when all attempts at dialogue with the clergy and leadership within the community failed. The support of enacted laws and of institutional bodies to give power to our resistance and enable us to take control over our bodies and help end this violation, is imperative,” adds Ranalvi.

As the International Day of Zero Tolerance for Female Genital Mutilation on February 6th nears, it can only be hoped that FGM/C, a widely prevalent but dark secret that violates women’s human rights and practised by various communities across the world, ends.

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

The court victory to allow women into the inner sanctum of a Sufi shrine in Mumbai was a significant victory for a secular rights-based movement led by Muslim women. However, there is a fear the political climate in India regarding Muslims, could put the women’s rights agenda on the back foot.

Zakia Soman speaks about how the Sufi shrine victory was deeply personal.

“Most of our members have an intimate devotion to Sufism. We cannot allow a bunch of conservative men to take it away from us. We are equal humans, equal Muslims, and equal citizens in a democracy,” she says.

“When they refused to listen to us and continued to bar us from entering the shrine, we unanimously decided to take them to court.”

The BMMA in 2016 filed Public Interest Litigation when after years of unfettered access to a Sufi shrine, the Haji Ali Dargah, a sudden restriction was placed on women entering the inner sanctum of the shrine.

The submissions made by the organisation to the High Court questioned this prohibition both based on constitutional guarantees as well as women’s rights in Islam. The verdict was in their favour and in 2016 the High court held that ‘Women must be permitted to enter the sanctum sanctorum on a par with men’.

Soman says the Haji Ali victory was personally a tribute to her maternal grandmother who was a devout Sufi.

Another achievement for the BMMA has been the slow acceptance of Female Qazi’s performing the ‘Nikah’ or marriage for Muslim couples. A domain which has exclusively remained with men, despite there being nothing in the religion that prohibits a woman from solemnising a Nikah.

However, the BMMA has been at the receiving end of criticism for their fight to codify Family laws in India. Many believe the anti-Muslim communal climate in the country calls for other issues to take the lead.

“Today Indian Muslims are facing tremendous onslaught in the form of lynching, discriminatory laws citizenship laws and the looming National Registry of Citizens, so-called love jihad laws etc.,” says Soman.

“There is a direct onslaught that puts a question mark on the citizenship and patriotism of Muslims. I am not sure how many women would come forward to fight for rights in the family when faced with such huge political dangers.”

She recognises the need to keep fighting for gender-just reforms in family laws from within.

BMMA and many other Muslim women’s movements across the globe question the patriarchal interpretations of religious texts which treat women as unequal. As Islamic Feminists, they believe that their religion believes that they are equal to their male counterparts.

Zainah Anwar says engaging on women’s rights is an article of faith.

“If justice is intrinsic to Islam, then how could injustice and discrimination result from the codification and implementation of laws and policies made in the name of Islam,” she asks in an exclusive interview with IPS, questioning the patriarchal family laws implemented in the name of religion.

Historian and academic Dr Margot Badran defines ‘Islamic feminists’ and says that they draw on the ‘Quranic concept of equality of all human beings’ and thereby insist on applying this concept to everyday life. Defining ‘Islamic feminism’ she says that it “explicates the idea of gender equality as part and parcel of the Qur’anic notion of equality of all insan (human beings) and calls for the implementation of gender equality in the state, civil institutions, and everyday life.”

Throughout the world, Muslim men have been at the realm of interpreting Quranic texts, and these interpretations have been mostly patriarchal. Islamic feminists, however, are changing the contours of these debates.

The movement has a long history and in March 2005, Amina Wadud, an Islamic scholar, and feminist was at the centre of the debate, criticism, and discussion. Dr Wadud accepted the invitation to lead a mixed prayer, and led it, in the Synod House, New York. At the receiving end of death threats and criticism from those who believed that Islam prohibits the act, the former Islamic studies professor at Virginia University said in many media interviews that followed, that, “There is nothing in the Qur’an or the hadith that forbids me from doing this.”

Post the Shah Bano judgment in India and the passage of the Muslim Women’s bill in 1986, and amidst a communally polarised atmosphere, Muslim women who developed a feminist consciousness tried to address gender injustice in the Muslim personal law being followed at the time by invoking and relying on Islamic reinterpretations of sacred texts.

As in Muslim societies at the time, in India as well, in this period, women were perceived as symbols of religious tradition with any dissent on their part being construed as a betrayal to community identity.

This paradox, however, came to a halt in Muslim societies, as the twentieth century drew to a close. Like their counterparts in the Muslim majority states, conservative (mostly Ashraf or higher caste) male clergy in India started laying greater emphasis on patriarchal gender notions which in turn provoked many women to take up activism to counter these claims.

These women saw no inherent connection between patriarchy and Islam. By the end of the 1980’s there was an emergence of a movement which was ‘feminist in its aspirations and demands yet Islamic in its language and sources of legitimacy, one version of this new discourse is Islamic feminism’.¹

In recent times, there have been several efforts in various parts of the country for Muslim women to enter the religious realm interpreting the Quran and Shariat from a women’s perspective. They have worked towards reclaiming spaces using constitutional means and the law of the land as well, that have been increasingly taken away from them.

Questioning status quo, however, is not easy and Muslim women across the world challenging patriarchal norms have faced resistance from within and outside their communities. Anwar tells IPS: “We are often accused of being westernised elites, anti-Islam, anti-Shari’ah, women who have deviated from our faith and have weak Iman (faith). Reports are made against us to the police, to the religious authorities to take action against us, to silence us, to charge us for insulting Islam, to ban our groups.”

“We cannot be told that Islam is a way of life … and then confer on Muslim men the sole authority to decide what Islam is and what it’s not. That’s despotism. As we can see from Muslim women leading movements all over the world for reform and rights – we will not be silenced and intimidated,” says Anwar.

¹ Ziba Mir‐Hosseini, ‘Muslim Women’s Quest for Equality: Between Islamic Law and Feminism’ (The university of Chicago Press 2006) 32 (4) Critical Inquiry 629

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

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Wai Wai Nu continues her activism Rohingya, women and human rights.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Nov 23 2020 (IPS)

Instead of being cowed by her seven-year imprisonment, Wai Wai Nu, emerged stronger and more determined to fight for the rights of all people, including the Rohingya in her native Myanmar.

In an exclusive interview with IPS, Wai Wai says her prison experience made her all the more aware of the need for human rights activism. What kept her going during her prison years was the desire to help other women inmates to ‘have a dream’.

“I feel I was privileged when I compare myself to the other young girls and women that I interacted with while I was in prison,” Wai Wai says.

“Most of them were unaware of how corrupt the political system was. I had a dream, a vision, whether or not I could achieve it because of my imprisonment was secondary. I felt I could help them have a dream.”

The youngest of three siblings, Wai Wai (33), spent seven years as a political prisoner with her family. Imprisoned at only 18, she was forced to give up her education, her everyday life. Still, she came out of prison undeterred and today is an inspiration to many women and activists fighting for human rights and dignity of their communities and beyond.

Her family is Rohingya, a Muslim minority in Myanmar which has been facing continued persecution and marginalisation by state and non-state actors alike.

It was her father’s activism that led to her imprisonment. Her father, who was elected to parliament in 1990, received a 47-year prison sentence, which was politically motivated. The family was released in 2012.

Wai Wai has received many awards for her activism including the N-Peace award in 2014. She was named as one of the Top 100 women by BBC the same year and the Time magazine named her one of the Next Generation Leaders in 2017.

However, she considers her most outstanding achievement to be the ability to emerge as a woman leader from her community and inspire many like her to be changemakers.

“I started my activism when I was 25-years-old. Apart from the many challenges, I was faced with patriarchy from within my community initially as there were close no women in leadership roles. Now I see an acceptance from the same community, and I am proud to have been able to break this stereotype”.

An achievement that Wai Wai sees as imperative though not tangible is being able to bridge the gap between the Rohingya in Myanmar, who are extremely marginalised and isolated from mainstream Myanmar, and the rest of Myanmar and society at large.

“I speak Burmese fluently, I grew up in the city, and I think, through my activism, I have been able to break the stereotypes created in part by the media and address the Islamophobia around my community, which is seen by so many as alien,” Wai Wai says.

“We (Rohingya) have played an important role in Burmese history, in its independence, and I want to remind the world of this too. Today a lot of young people see me as someone who did not give up and tell me how my story inspires them to continue to achieve. I value this more than any achievement or award that I have ever received.”

Wai Wai recalls that she realised she needed to help women prisoners because of the stigma they faced during and after their incarceration.

She says she needed to help these women because they suffered a double burden: they faced the direct consequences of being imprisoned, and beyond the prison walls, their suffering continued.

Once they had finished serving their prison time, most were not accepted back into their families, those married were abandoned by their husbands and had to start their lives all over again.

The fact that most came from impoverished economic backgrounds only worsened their situation.

“I felt I could help fix this.”’

Wai Wai founded the Women’s Peace Network in 2012.

She says her father continues to fight for human rights and draws inspiration from religion despite suffering and facing the consequences of his activism, Wai Wai says he feels “he has the duty towards helping those who need support.” He told her that he would have to face Allah when he dies and wants to walk on the path of justice “I draw inspiration from his strength and beliefs in justice and equality,” she says.

Wai Wai has been an open advocate for democracy and human rights for all.

While referring to Myanmar’s transition to democracy, she says that it concerns her that the world celebrates a flawed democracy like Myanmar for its own geopolitical or economic gains. Here millions of people still live in a Genocide-like situation, and the effect is to legitimise a flawed democracy and help prolong atrocities and crimes against the most marginalised in the country.

“When we talk of democracy, we need to ensure that human rights of all are protected, that there is political participation by all, freedom of expression and assembly are upheld,” Wai Wai says.

“When a state has marginalised an entire community and made them outsiders … Where the military has used this transition to democracy as a means to maintain its power: To accept and celebrate this as a successful transition to democracy is like rewarding a State that has not even met the benchmark of basic democratic criterion.”

Of the many challenges that Wai Wai has faced, one that she has to continue to fight is that of others stereotyping her and manipulating her into limiting her work and her activism.

‘There are many who only want me to talk about the human rights of my community and want to limit my ability to contribute to other issues. Yes, I have the responsibility towards my community and my people, but that does not stop me from advocating for universal principles like democracy, empowerment of youth and justice and peace in society.”

Wai Wai Nu is the founder and director of Women’s Peace Network and is currently serving as a fellow at the centre for the prevention of Genocide, US Holocaust Museum.

Mariya Salim is a fellow at IPS UN Bureau

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Indian member of parliament and actor, Nusrat Jahan has also been targeted.

By Mariya Salim
NEW DELHI, India, Oct 23 2020 (IPS)

When a minority woman with an opinion doesn’t comply with stereotypes, she is targeted with online hate, says award-winning journalist and senior editor at The Wire, Arfa Khanum Sherwani in an exclusive interview with Inter Press Service.

Sherwani has been at the receiving end of online violence and hate, including rape and death threats, like her other women journalist counterparts, because she questions policies and performance of the present Indian government. What makes her experience of facing gendered and sexist online abuse different is the added layer of her identity: that of being a Muslim.

“The right-wing in India, like everywhere else in the world, likes to put certain communities in boxes. Muslim women are supposed to dress a certain way, speak a certain language or perhaps not speak at all. As a Muslim woman, with an opinion who does not fit their imaginary stereotypes, they use violence against me online,” Sherwani says. “When the trolls question my journalism, they make sure to question my religion and make the majority community look at my work through the lens of my religion alone to discredit my work.”

Arfa Khanum Sherwani, award-winning journalist and editor, finds her religion highlighted in online hate campaigns.

India has an ever-growing percentage of internet users and the various social media platforms act as a window for India’s marginalised communities to be able to express their opinions, seek an audience and build community.

Where on the one hand the internet has enabled participation in the public sphere with greater ease for marginalised groups, the increasing amount of online hate and violence, especially against women from these communities, has left them feeling vulnerable and, in many situations, threatened with physical harm.

The violence exacerbates when those with an opinion online identify themselves as women from a religious, racial or ethnic minority, or the LGBTQIA community.

In India, the increasing Islamophobia and violence against its largest religious minority, Muslims, is mirrored in the virtual spaces as well. Women from the Muslim community are targeted explicitly with slurs and sexist abuse, directed towards their religious identity.

Nabiya Khan, a 24-year-old Muslim poet and activist, is threatened online for her headscarf and Muslim identity than for her activism.

Nabiya Khan, a 24-year-old Muslim poet and activist, endured threats online.

“Some call me Jahil Jihadan (meaning illiterate terrorist, with the word terrorist here having an Islamic connotation), others ask me to remove my headscarf and then speak up against any kind of social injustice. I am often asked to go to Pakistan accompanied by rape threats of the most vile kind.”

It is not only those who are on the platforms who are targets. The spreading of false news narratives against minorities, mostly religious and caste oppressed minorities like Muslims, Christians and Dalits has often led to women from these communities, even if far removed from these platforms, at the receiving end of real-life harm.

Sexual violence against women is a tool to humiliate and punish the broader community and strip it of its honour and integrity.

In 2013, for instance, a fake video depicting Hindu boys being brutally killed by a Muslim mob, posted on the Facebook page of a Minister from a right-wing party, went viral. The post led to massive communal riots in Muzaffarnagar, in Uttar Pradesh during which scores of women from the Muslim community were raped.

Seven years later there has not been a single conviction in any of the reported cases.

The video was removed. However, it had stayed on the platform long enough for Muslim women in a village in rural India to experience irreparable harm.

A post written by Nabiya after she received rape and death threats on Facebook.

International human rights organisations, like the United Nations, have also taken cognisance of the growing vitriol online, with the office of the Special Rapporteur on Minority Issues, Dr Fernand de Varennes having made “hate speech, social media and minorities” a thematic priority at the start of his mandate.

De Varennes, in an interview with IPS, was particularly concerned about the effect of hate speech on minority women.

“To reduce what is occurring online as strictly only a matter of gender, exacerbated and normalised by hate speech in social media, is to hide the significant role of religion and caste which contribute to the specific continuing and even increasing stigmatisation of minority women,” he said.

He added that raising awareness of the extent to which hate speech had become a mainly minority issue had become one of his main tasks for this year.

The “disease of the mind”, he says, that constitutes hate speech may pile up, with misogynist attacks against minority women finding fertile grounds to propagate, since it becomes “more acceptable” for some to spew hatred against women who belong to supposedly “despised minorities”.

The intersectionality of online violence against women needs, therefore, to be acknowledged.

Nusrat Jehan, an actor and Indian Member of Parliament, has received online threats and violence for her career and personal choices both from within and outside the community.

“I keep on getting judgements, fatwas, death threats, etc. from religious extremist groups,” says Nusrat, a public representative. She had to seek additional personal security while in the UK after receiving online threats for posing as a Hindu Goddess on her Instagram page in September this year.

“I do not pay heed to the trolls and their judgments. Yes, there need to be stricter laws for account creation etc. on these platforms, but whatever be the rules and laws, things won’t change until mindsets change,” she adds.

Social media companies need to take the violence faced by women on their platforms more seriously and proactively block and take down harmful content.

Reports by some CSOs have brought to light how “Facebook lacks clear user hate speech reporting mechanisms for Indian caste-oppressed minorities” and how despite a year-long advocacy with the company, nothing changed at their front.

The experience of many women, from marginalised communities, concerning the reporting of hate online on these platforms, whether Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, has been far from satisfactory. Many of the women have had their accounts taken down for revealing the identities of their abusers.

India does not have laws specifically dedicated to dealing with online violence against women, let alone those that are specific to women from religious and caste oppressed minorities.

Experts point out that what is needed is the implementation of existing cyber laws in India rather than the introduction of new ones.

Khanum points out that she has little trust in the law enforcement mechanisms and therefore refrains from reporting it to the authorities. One of the factors of this mistrust is her fear that, because she is Muslim, her concerns will not be treated seriously. What concerns her is the impunity – where a great deal of hate directed towards her comes from the verified social media handles of people in positions of power, political and otherwise.

YouTube Link: https://youtu.be/jdMNT5pqrHc

The writer is a Fellow at IPS UN Bureau

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