It's Not About You: Identifying and Acknowledging Privilege (Without Getting Butthurt - Because It's Not About You)

So, I recently posted this on my Facebook and a friend of mine mentioned that this was 95% of American citizens. I corrected him that it was more like 95% of white men, to which he replied that I was being sexist and racist. It is so important to recognize one's privilege - I have my own. Most of us do. One of the things about privilege is that you don't even know you have it, and you all know that I love to educate people.

This is what I replied with, with his name removed:

Actually, men, it's pretty much fact. As a white, cisgendered (as in, your physical and mental genders match up), heterosexual man, you, my friend, have a TON of privilege that you don't even realize you have. IT DOES NOT MAKE YOU A BAD PERSON.

However. You don't have to worry about being sexually assaulted and blamed for it. You don't have to worry that the people catcalling you are going to follow you and get more and more aggressive, or that when you turn down someone's advances they're going to get violent. You don't have to worry that every time someone makes a rape joke, it's because they really DO think rape is funny and think that you really DO mean yes when you tell them no, even when you're screaming and crying.

You don't have to worry about getting pulled over or followed around a store simply because of your skin color. You don't have to worry about the government deporting you and your family. You don't have to worry about landing on the no-fly list simply because of your name or religion.

If you go to a mechanic or a doctor you can expect to be listened to and taken at your word - not second-guessed or talked down to like you don't know what you're talking about.

You don't have to worry about your relationships being legalized or accepted, because they already are. You don't have to worry about getting beaten or killed because of your sexual orientation, or for talking about it/holding hands with your girlfriend. You're not at risk of being fired from your job or denied housing because of it.

THAT is your privilege, gentlemen, and there's a lot more. It doesn't make you a bad person. It IS a part of your life.


But wait, there's more I have to say!

Hijab treats a symptom; it's not a cure

Note: I'm not a scholar. All of my opinions are gathered from reading, researching, and my own personal prayers and contemplations - commonly known as ijtihad. I'm not a scholar. I just think for myself. If there is any historical inaccuracy in my posts, please politely let me know and link me to reliable sources. Thank you.

So let's talk about hijab, because the world doesn't talk about it nearly enough. I, however, have Very Strong Opinions on this, and it's my blog, so I'll state my Very Strong Opinions if I want to.

What's so bad about being unashamedly yourself?

This blog post (trigger warning for eating disorders) about Luna Lovegood and how people who are just being themselves, unashamedly, are treated when they don't fall into a socially-constructed "norm" has me thinking.

"You laughed hysterically at one of Ron’s quips and didn’t stop to excuse yourself and feel ashamed when it became clear that everyone found you strange. ... [Y]ou carried your oddness like it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t market your oddness as your defining feature the way some insecure teenagers do, in guise of confidence and security. And nor were you oblivious to the awkward and uncomfortable feelings your oddness provoked in others. When, unable to comprehend how you wore your oddness so honestly and unashamedly, your peers reverted to mockery and bullying, you recognised this as a reflection of their own deep-seated insecurity and calmly let them carry on, quite above your head. You weren’t trying hard to present a certain aspect of yourself that would boldly identify you in the world. And that’s when it occurred to me how bizarre and positively ridiculous it was to apply the word “weird” to describe you, when you represented the most natural and unpretentious state possible to be; you were yourself."

Ramadan secrets

Before I begin, let me preface this post with this:

These are my thoughts and my feelings. I will not accept anyone delegitimizing or silencing them. I will not accept anyone telling me that I'm wrong, or I'm doing something wrong, or I just need to pray more/try harder/etc.

This blog is an honest look at the life of a convert in a Muslim-minority country. I post very blunt things here, in the knowledge that if I'm thinking and/or feeling them, then someone else is, too - and that someone, those someones, need to know that they're not alone.

You are not alone. Even when it feels that way. And if you feel the way that I do in this post, you are normal. There's no shame in what I'm about to post. There is shame in trying to shame people about it.

That said, I don't like Ramadan.

Advice for Converts (and Lax Muslims)

Someone on Jezebel messaged me because while they converted two years ago, they're not really practicing, and neither is their husband. They want to learn more, and asked me for advice. This is the novel I wrote in return.

Loving God and the Prophet

Gee, did I say I had a posting schedule? Oops. Sorry. About that.

Muslims are told to love Allah and love the Prophet, peace be with him, but we aren't given concrete ways to learn to have, to do, this love.

"Just love the Prophet, peace be with him."

"If you love God, you'll love the Prophet."

But how do you love God and the Prophet? How do you build that sort of relationship - any relationship?

The trials and tribulations of an American hijabi

My Jezebel friend Effie definitely helped me out with this one, so she gets co-server credit!

What, another post about Muslim women wearing hijab? I've already talked about it here, here, here, and most heart-wrenchingly (trust me, my heart was wrenched as I wrote it), here.

I've talked about my problems with loved ones not being able to come to terms with my hijab (which I believe has since happened, as there haven't been any more confrontations or talk about it from either of us), about how special and secure and comfortable hijab makes me feel, about how it's helped me to spread awareness about Islam, about how people automatically think I'm not American because of it, and about how I love that hijab makes me visibly Muslim.

But there's another side to this, a far more frustrating side, and that's what I want to discuss candidly here: how difficult it is to be a visibly Muslim woman in America.