Day 22
Half the Sky
I have to be honest – growing up, I was not a fan of my mother because I didn’t know her. My ability to understand her and actually know her was compromised by misplaced anger and selfishness. Our relationship was strained as a result of outside pressures and demands and looking back, we were both quietly suffering internally from emotional upsets, unmet expectations for our lives and likely depression. The beauty of our hearts is what I read from TTG last night: our hearts are big enough to break many times, and then to mend, with scar tissue to make them bigger.
I have no doubt that the hearts beating inside of my parents are enormous – and my mother’s for certain, has a capacity for love that I cannot fathom.
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On Monday I read the title of a blog that got me excited! It was a letter from a Muslim brother to his mother, My dear Ramadan Stay-at-Home Mom, I Salute You. I thought it would be the perfect article to read after a bittersweet weekend where I could use some solid parent-affirming words of wisdom. And let me tell you how wrong I was! The article pissed me off. I found it condescending, sexist and reducing a mother’s role to simply child-rearing. If you would like to read it, please do and let me know what you think:http://muslimmatters.org/2012/07/27/my-dear-ramadan-stay-at-home-mom-i-salute-you/
And so, I have decided to write my own version of this letter to my mother and all of the other Muslim mothers out there:
My dear Ramadan observing mom.
My dear Ramadan observing working mother.
My dear Ramadan observing, busy, tired, God-loving teacher and mother.
My dear Ramadan observing, over exerting, in-demand and under appreciated mother.
My dear Ramadan observing, dynamic, beautiful mother, daughter, sister, friend and wife.
Dear Madar Jaan,
I only think I know how hard you work – and I say I think because there is no way for me to know because you do more than any of us will ever see.. because you are up before I am and I know your prayers on behalf to Allah continue after I fall asleep. Working hard to keep us comfortable, in this life and in the here after.
I can only imagine what it was like to send us off to school, not knowing if we would be proud of our faith or the bright orange on our hands on the days after Eid. You fought those battles, listening to the whining and took on the brunt of the ungrateful looks when you hauled us to the masjid on all those afternoons to learn how to pray the duas that prepare a spot in janaat for us.
For all that you juggle and more, I salute you and may Allah reward you.
Dear Muslim Mothers, you are the means by which Allah exercises His creation. You are the Prophet’s modern day vessel, interpreting hadiths in your lessons and warnings.
I want to tell you that…
… that you are part of the historic women in our faith. You are to me, among the ranks of the wives and daughters of the Prophet (pbuh). You are my mother, joining the foremothers – Aisha, Khadija, Zaynah, Fatimah and Maryam… even Eve. The pathmakers were not alone in their successes nor in their struggles and so I do not allow her to take the blame alone.
… I am sorry you have been relegated to Eid Salaat alone on the mornings that the men went to masjid. I know you wanted to go and the excuse was that you take too long. The truth is, his piety was an excuse for being too lazy to help you.
… I regret that the divine breath that created both my father and you, has been altered with excuses for your relegation and marginalization… from walls outside of the masjid to the musky basements within it’s four walls.
… I dare to say the azaan under my breath because I believe there ought to be room for us for taraweh. So that you can proudly bring your grandchildren into the masjid without shame, guilt or the need for curtains to separate them from their grandfather.
… Your womb, your uterus, your breasts, your hormones, my success, how much or little you cover do not make you or measure your piety – it is your imaan.
To my dear mother, my paradise, my heaven, lies at your feet.
Your #1 fan,
Wazina
