Tag Archives: tony

Of Cricket and Rape

India_Gang_Rape_Protests_09fc9-6800

On the day that it was announced that Sachin Tendulkar had retired from one day international Cricket, a friend had the following as her facebook status –

I can’t believe it. This news presenter just said although everyone was saddened by the recent rape case in Delhi, that nothing could match the sadness people are feeling over Tendulkar’s retirement! Do these people not think before they speak???

It is not a matter of thinking before one speaks; it goes on to reflect the state of mind and the order of priorities of many people. It staggers me that a country such as India which shows such reverence to basic societal facets like motherhood can simultaneously treat women with such disdain. Perhaps what the news presenter allegedly said is sincere and genuine. If an Indian Cricketer died today would there be the same amount of emotions running raw in India as it does now? It is likely not to be for the emotions would be much higher, the news of the death of a celebrated Cricketer would sell much more than the death of a rape victim. Sadly, the Cricketer is seen as speaking for many whilst transcending gender boundaries and the rape victim dies relatively alone.

My facebook and twitter feeds have been dominated by news of the deaths of two individuals this morning. One is of the victim of the afore mentioned rape, the other is of English Cricketer turned commentator Tony Greig. Tony died of natural causes and I sincerely do grieve his death, for he amplified the little squeaks Sri Lankan Cricket was making as it began to come of age in the Benson and Hedges cup in Australia in 1995/96.

But here lies the problem, the media space given to the rape victim by one’s own initiative is marginal compared to what I see on Cricket related matters. Further, whilst the death of Tony Greig seems to have united the genders, the cause of the rape victim and that of rape rather regrettably seems to be espoused only by females. Though I am sure there are men who had expressed their sympathy, I am yet to see one.

I tread carefully here. What affects women, has an affect on men. As clichéd a statement as this may be, a woman is a mother, wife, sister or a friend of a man and the converse is true for women. But as the gulf between men and women increase and modern societal doctrine tends to empower any one gender without reference to the other without regulation, where mutuality and co-existence between genders is a thing of the past, then both genders will be in a race to be superior to the other and this is harmful to women as it is to men. As it stands, yes there is an imbalance in modern society and men largely consider their gender to be superior to that of women, and that is reflected in some of the ills in this world. I have no time for such men in the same way that I have no time for women who consider their gender to be superior to that of men.

It so happens that most evils committed today happen to be committed by men. Even though I partially agree with this post and the actions described, marginalising men as a whole is detrimental to the cause. I hate to revere Cricket by this analogy, but just like sub continental Cricket, issues of women (and men) are best resolved when it galvanises both genders, not just one.

Image from here.

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Tony Blair’s sister in law’s conversion to Islam. Now what?

Lauren Booth, Cherie Blair’s sister and Tony Blair’s sister in law converted to Islam a few days ago. Where I am concerned, it’s just one of the many thousands of transitions that take place every year. The significance of this is that the person in question is a well-known figure, and sister in law to a man oft repeated in political circles in the new millennium, Labour’s most successful leader and apart from the Iraq war and a few other mishaps a man who brought a lot of constructive changes to British society.

The Islamophobic right wing press and some feminists will have to eat their own words due to this rather unexpected phenomenon.

Cherie Blair herself has immediately changed her stance about Muslim women, as today’s Evening Standard reports here.

Lauren Booth has written a wonderful piece on the Guardian about her conversion, the press and stereotypes. I am copying it here.

The reader is neither obliged to agree or to disagree, but definitely well worth a read.

It is five years since my first visit to Palestine. And when I arrived in the region, to work alongside charities in Gaza and the West Bank, I took with me the swagger of condescension that all white middle-class women (secretly or outwardly) hold towards poor Muslim women, women I presumed would be little more than black-robed blobs, silent in my peripheral vision. As a western woman with all my freedoms, I expected to deal professionally with men alone. After all, that’s what the Muslim world is all about, right?

This week’s screams of faux horror from fellow columnists on hearing of my conversion to Islam prove that this remains the stereotypical view regarding half a billion women currently practising Islam.

On my first trip to Ramallah, and many subsequent visits to Palestine, Egypt, Jordan and Lebanon, I did indeed deal with men in power. And, dear reader, one or two of them even had those scary beards we see on news bulletins from far-flung places we’ve bombed to smithereens. Surprisingly (for me) I also began to deal with a lot of women of all ages, in all manner of head coverings, who also held positions of power. Believe it or not, Muslim women can be educated, work the same deadly hours we do, and even boss their husbands about in front of his friends until he leaves the room in a huff to go and finish making the dinner.

Is this patronising enough for you? I do hope so, because my conversion to Islam has been an excuse for sarcastic commentators to heap such patronising points of view on to Muslim women everywhere. So much so, that on my way to a meeting on the subject of Islamophobia in the media this week, I seriously considered buying myself a hook and posing as Abu Hamza. After all, judging by the reaction of many women columnists, I am now to women’s rights what the hooked one is to knife and fork sales.

So let’s all just take a deep breath and I’ll give you a glimpse into the other world of Islam in the 21st century. Of course, we cannot discount the appalling way women are mistreated by men in many cities and cultures, both with and without an Islamic population. Women who are being abused by male relatives are being abused by men, not God. Much of the practices and laws in “Islamic” countries have deviated from (or are totally unrelated) to the origins of Islam. Instead practices are based on cultural or traditional (and yes, male-orientated) customs that have been injected into these societies. For example, in Saudi Arabia, women are not allowed to drive by law. This rule is an invention of the Saudi monarchy, our government’s close ally in the arms and oil trade. The fight for women’s rights must sadly adjust to our own government’s needs.

My own path to Islam began with an awakening to the gap between what had been drip-fed to me about all Muslim life – and the reality.

I began to wonder about the calmness exuded by so many of the “sisters” and “brothers”. Not all; these are human beings we’re talking about. But many. And on my visit to Iran this September, the washing, kneeling, chanting recitations of the prayers at the mosques I visited reminded me of the west’s view of an entirely different religion; one that is known for eschewing violence and embracing peace and love through quiet meditation. A religion trendy with movie stars such as Richard Gere, and one that would have been much easier to admit to following in public – Buddhism. Indeed, the bending, kneeling and submission of Muslim prayers resound with words of peace and contentment. Each one begins, “Bismillahir rahmaneer Raheem” – “In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate” – and ends with the phrase “Assalamu Alaykhum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh” – Peace be upon you all and God’s mercy and blessing.

Almost unnoticed to me, when praying for the last year or so, I had been saying “Dear Allah” instead of “Dear God”. They both mean the same thing, of course, but for the convert to Islam the very alien nature of the language of the holy prayers and the holy book can be a stumbling block. I had skipped that hurdle without noticing. Then came the pull: a sort of emotional ebb and flow that responds to the company of other Muslims with a heightened feeling of openness and warmth. Well, that’s how it was for me, anyway.

How hard and callous non-Muslim friends and colleagues began to seem. Why can’t we cry in public, hug one another more, say “I love you” to a new friend, without facing suspicion or ridicule? I would watch emotions being shared in households along with trays of honeyed sweets and wondered, if Allah’s law is simply based on fear why did the friends I loved and respected not turn their backs on their practices and start to drink, to have real “fun” as we in the west do? And we do, don’t we? Don’t we?

Finally, I felt what Muslims feel when they are in true prayer: a bolt of sweet harmony, a shudder of joy in which I was grateful for everything I have (my children) and secure in the certainty that I need nothing more (along with prayer) to be utterly content. I prayed in the Mesumeh shrine in Iran after ritually cleansing my forearms, face, head and feet with water. And nothing could be the same again. It was as simple as that.

The sheikh who finally converted me at a mosque in London a few weeks ago told me: “Don’t hurry, Lauren. Just take it easy. Allah is waiting for you. Ignore those who tell you: you must do this, wear that, have your hair like this. Follow your instincts, follow the Holy Qur’an- and let Allah guide you.”

And so I now live in a reality that is not unlike that of Jim Carey’s character in the Truman Show. I have glimpsed the great lie that is the facade of our modern lives; that materialism, consumerism, sex and drugs will give us lasting happiness. But I have also peeked behind the screens and seen an enchanting, enriched existence of love, peace and hope. In the meantime, I carry on with daily life, cooking dinners, making TV programmes about Palestine and yes, praying for around half an hour a day.

Now, my morning starts with dawn prayers at around 6am, I pray again at 1.30pm, then finally at 10.30pm. My steady progress with the Qur’an has been mocked in some quarters (for the record, I’m now around 200 pages in). I’ve been seeking advice from Ayatollahs, imams and sheikhs, and every one has said that each individual’s journey to Islam is their own. Some do commit the entire text to memory before conversion; for me reading the holy book will be done slowly and at my own pace.

In the past my attempts to give up alcohol have come to nothing; since my conversion I can’t even imagine drinking again. I have no doubt that this is for life: there is so much in Islam to learn and enjoy and admire; I’m overcome with the wonder of it. In the last few days I’ve heard from other women converts, and they have told me that this is just the start, that they are still loving it 10 or 20 years on.

On a final note I’d like to offer a quick translation between Muslim culture and media culture that may help take the sting of shock out of my change of life for some of you.

When Muslims on the BBC News are shown shouting “Allahu Akhbar!” at some clear, Middle Eastern sky, we westerners have been trained to hear: “We hate you all in your British sitting rooms, and are on our way to blow ourselves up in Lidl when you are buying your weekly groceries.”

In fact, what we Muslims are saying is “God is Great!”, and we’re taking comfort in our grief after non-Muslim nations have attacked our villages. Normally, this phrase proclaims our wish to live in peace with our neighbours, our God, our fellow humans, both Muslim and non-Muslim. Or, failing that, in the current climate, just to be left to live in peace would be nice.

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