"We have always been here, it's just that the world wasn't ready for us yet."

[mia_konsgen]

The non-binary person interviewed on the BBC discusses the weight of representation. They talk of manifold expectations: the expectations that are not met regarding how queer people present/are in opposition to expected normative ways of being and presenting; but also of the heavy burden of being expected to always have the patience, willingness and openness to educate others on the meanings of their queerness. Regarding the first expectation, they note that queer people have always existed and have always attempted to articulate their queerness in some way or other, which is an important remark. As for the second expectation, it seems to be an issue that affects any person that stands out, is different from the majority. This goes not only for queerness but also, though perhaps manifested in different ways, for ethnicity, culture, religion. The issue of intersectionality also comes up in the interview: the latter expectation in such cases becomes thus multiplied.

I really enjoyed reading the excerpts from both Habib’s and Abdulkarim’s memoirs, not least for their artistic quality. Habib explores the same problematics as the person interviewed by the BBC (didn’t catch their name), regarding the lack of representation and acceptance of, as well as community for, queer racialised muslims - but also their erasure even from existence in the popular imgaination of Muslims. The figure of Shireen - the skaterhijabi Iranian Muslim, wearing and short skirts and showing off hairy legs - becomes one representation of such intersectionality that most if not all queers likely do not have around when growing up. It really does seem that Shireen courageously and unapologetically “made a mission out of proving there was no one way to be Muslim” (Habib, 160). It’s really interesting the way Habib choses to look at the relationship that develops with Shireen, not simply in terms of age difference, but more specifically of providing queer nurturing and care to younger queers such as Shireen while also seeing one’s younger self in young queers. Habib discusses also the experiences of feeling shunned from Islam by their own family and broader Muslim community and the pain and longterm consequences on them. Habib also discusses feeling like “an outsider within the LGBTQ community” and in fact feeling even more invisble, isolated and marginalised (166). However Habib’s recounting of their experience of the queer Unity Mosque is a life-changing moment for them, enabling them to reconnect to their faith in a very liberating, boundless, and deeply personal/individual way, without judgement. What ultimately stands out of Habib’s text is the lessons they learned in their journey of queerness, perhaps always in process like most journeys, and the importance of finding your people, creating your community.

Abdulkarim’s memoir is much bleaker (explicitly at least) than the previous works discussed, due to complex webs of family relations and places in a story marked by manifold abuses enacted on the author himself as well as on and by fellow family members among others. To keep this last discussion post short (-ish), I won’t go into this text, also because I didn’t quite follow with all the unknown characters and various family relations.