Mohja Kahf and Asifa Qureishi's stay in the house this weekend has inspired a lot of meaningful discussion. Some reflections.
I felt uneasy listening to Mohja Kahf's more sexually graphic poetry Friday evening. I left the room and sat in the hallway, so that I would at least be out of sight. It feels immodest to sit and discuss sensual pleasures in a mixed, public setting. (Note: the 'mixed' and 'public' aspects are the root of my uneasiness, not necessarily (for now) the content of the poetry). I've asked Mohja about how she justifies what I feel is stepping over boundaries. For fear of misrepresenting her views, I won't put her response here. Instead, some questions for myself as I try to parse out where I stand in all of this:
What is the root of my feeling uncomfortable? Is my feeling uneasy about this (arguably) gratuitous sexual narrative rooted in an Islamic principle? Is the "boundary" I feel that her writing crosses rooted in Islam or in some construct separate from Islam?
Are there things that are haraam to actually speak about? I'm pretty sure certain ways of speaking about God are haraam. What are the clearly-defined boundaries?
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Dearest Sara, assalamu alaiki,
I genuinely appreciate your beautiful reflective spirit.
The first full-length hadith I ever memorized by heart, at around age eleven, was the one that begins "innamal a'malu bi'(l) niyat."
All I ask is that you and others take my work in that context.
This hadith indicates that there is very little in the way of a blanket standard by which most human actions can be externally judged, as comforting as it would be to have such an absolute yardstick. They are judged (by God) in the context of that person's nia, rather than on the face value. On a case by case basis, in other words. The hadith goes on to tell us that the same act, performed by different people with different nias, has different meanings. The fullness of its meaning is visible only to the One with knowledge of the nia.
Although I've done my best, in this case, to make my nia transparent to you, all you dear radiant youths in the MSN house(s)!
Also, another way to figure it out is not to take one piece of a person's work in isolation from the rest. See how one piece of writing modifies the other. These provide clues to the nia and wholeness of meaning.
If one poem I read, for example, tries to imagine what a bitter soul screaming in pain at God sounds like, the next poem I read expresses the beauty and grace that happens when that same person learns the insight that came only through the pain (Iqbal calls his version of this journey through two types ofconsciousness "Shakva" & "Jawab Shakva"). They balance each other. One is not meant to be taken alone. Take the whole.
Nia, and wholeness.
With love,
"Aunty" :) Mohja
ps Re the 2-3 love poems, I very much appreciate empathetically the feelings you describe having during that brief part of my reading. They are feelings suited to your stage of life. I'd like to invite you, and the others, to come attend a reading of mine after many years of marriage, in another phase of your lives, inshallah, and compare notes on your reactions then and now! :)
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