Tuesday, August 02, 2016

Unbreakable: The Spirit of Hajar

IN A BARREN desert, under a blistering sun, a woman leaned against the trunk of a twisted tree, cradling her infant and trying to shield him from the merciless elements. With only a small water-skin and a bag of dates that was already worrisomely light, she watched as her husband turned his back on her and walked away. As he drew further and further away, she couldn’t bear it anymore. “Are you leaving us?” she called out to him. She received no response; the only sound was that of his footsteps in the sand, leaving behind no footprints. “Are you leaving us in this valley, where there is no one and nothing?” she cried out again, looking down at her son’s tiny face. Her heart lurched with panic at the idea of being alone in this empty place, desolate as it was – and then, almost instantly, another thought occurred to her and her heart leapt instead with a sense of certainty. Intuitively, she knew that despite the circumstances, nothing would harm her or her son; something greater awaited her, though she had no idea what it was.
“Has Allah commanded you to do this?” she asked, her voice steady. The man paused, and nodded. “Then He will never neglect us,” she said quietly.
Unseen by Hâjar, her husband smiled sadly and then, when he was out of sight, raised his hands in supplication.
Our Lord, I have settled some of my descendants in an uncultivated valley near Your sacred House, our Lord, that they may establish prayer. So make hearts among the people incline toward them and provide for them from the fruits that they might be grateful. [Sûrat Ibrâhîm, 14:37]
Behind him, leaning against the tree, Hâjar (English: Hagar) prepared herself for a future which held far more than she could ever imagine. I am satisfied to be with Allah, she murmured, [i] and knew that no matter how empty the desert was around her, she would never be truly alone.
In that one moment, this woman’s intuition, and her trust and certainty in her Lord, made her one of the greatest individuals in all of history. Hâjar went from being an unknown slave woman in Egypt to a symbol of spiritual conviction, deep insight, and decisive action. Although she is best known as the wife of Prophet Ibrahim and the mother of Ismâᶜîl (English: Ishmael), she was recognized by Allah and His Messenger in her own right.
Her story is one of those which we repeat often, familiar to us all, and yet one which holds so much more for us than merely the rote lessons we have been taught. Her words, echoing in the desert, rang strong with tawakkul (reliance) upon Allah, but her words were far more than a hollow spiritual mantra.
Hâjar was a woman who did not allow her circumstances to overwhelm or control her; she was not content to simply declare faith in God while remaining passive. Instead, Hâjar exemplified what it meant to be pro-active and determined even in the face of obstacles seemingly impossible to overcome. Stranded in the desert, surrounded by sand and little else, with a child dependent upon her for survival, Hâjar was not content to remain idle or to surrender herself to the seemingly inevitable, or to await a miracle from the heavens to be handed to her. She seized control where there was little to be had.  Determined to find something to change her condition, she strode between Safa and Marwa, unrelenting in her persistence. She was acutely aware of the fact that her position was not an easy one, and that her son’s life was in jeopardy. No doubt, it would have been all too easy for her to break down into tears, to allow herself to be a victim of circumstances, or to be paralyzed by fear. However, Hâjar chose instead to place her trust in Allah and actively pursued a course of action which –though it may have seemed futile to anyone watching– exemplified her spirit of resilience and purposefulness.
Nor did she give up after one or two attempts, and accept failure as an option –or as the likely outcome. Seven times – in the blazing heat, her infant’s wails ringing in her ears even as the land around her remained deafeningly silent – seven times did Hâjar ascend the hillocks of Ṣafa and Marwa, seven times did she struggle to seek sustenance and aid for herself and her child, seven times did she push herself past the limits of her weariness and her worry… Then, and only then, once she had done everything she possibly could, did Allah send the angel Jibrîl (English: Gabriel) from the seven heavens to the earth, to dig his wingtip into the parched earth and release the flowing waters of Zamzam.
Yet even then, as the pure, crystalline liquid poured over her hands, Hâjar didn’t allow herself to get swept up in the moment. With brilliant foresight, she knelt down and formed the first boundaries of what will forever be known as the Well of Zamzam.
And even when Allah fulfilled the du¢â’ of Ibrahim by sending the tribe of Jurhum to settle in that once-barren land, Hâjar never let herself become complacent or naively think that all her problems were solved. “You may use the water,” she told the tribes people, “but it will always belong to me and my son.” Her words were a sign of her shrewd foresight; not only was she protecting herself and Ismâᶜîl, but she was preserving a miraculous legacy for all of humankind. The waters of Zamzam remain safeguarded and cherished as a reminder of Allah’s innumerable blessings even in times of severe tribulation.
May Allah have mercy on the mother of Ismâîl! The Prophet supplicated for her,  [ii]   and we too echo his words –for in Hâjar we have the most beautiful and enduring story of a believer’s test of faith in a hopeless time, a single parent’s struggle for survival against all odds.
Today, the Muslim Ummah has many others like Hâjar, single mothers and single fathers alike; those who have found themselves unexpectedly on their own, stranded by fate in circumstances beyond their choosing, and left with only their trust in Allah and their own indomitability to help them traverse this unforeseen destiny.
These women and men are an example for us all: like Hâjar, they do not let themselves be victims of circumstances, but are determined to find a solution regardless of how hopeless their plight may seem. They rely upon Allah, knowing that He is Al-Razzâq (the Provider), and knowing also that He will not change the situation of a person unless they change themselves.[iii]  In a world where it is increasingly difficult to raise a family, these single parents push themselves beyond what many of us could imagine –unfaltering in their belief in their Lord, their desire to raise their children to love Him and worship Him, and to protect them from the harsh realities of poverty, social injustice, and more.
Alas, many Muslims do not honor these heroes and heroines of our Ummah as they deserve to be honored. Far too many of us view single parents as somehow lacking, or less worthy of respect. We do not realize that the struggles they are experiencing are in fact the same ones that Hâjar went through herself –for which she was honored by the Lord of the Worlds, Who decreed that it was obligatory for every Muslim to follow in her footsteps between Ṣafa and Marwa during both Hajj and Umrah. How can we claim to fulfill the spirit of the pilgrimages if our feet travel between those two mountains, yet our hearts remain unmoved by the greatness of Hâjar, and all those who embody her spirit on a daily basis?
Hâjar is a woman whose story is an inspiration to us all, whether single parents or otherwise. She was an individual who refused to take on the identity of victimization, an attitude of helplessness, or acceptance of failure; she knew that while Allah would never abandon her, she could not abandon herself either. No matter what difficult straits we find ourselves in – financial, emotional, or otherwise – it is Hâjar whom we should remember when we are tempted to surrender ourselves to a sense of defeat. Her taqwa, her tawakkul, and her spirit of resilience was stronger than the landscape she traversed: a true heroine of Islam.
[iii] Sûrat Al-Ra¢d, 13:11

Sunday, July 31, 2016

They Call Us Weak...

"Women were created weak and emotional and irrational and that is why they cannot do XYZ..."
Aasiyah ('alayhassalaam) endured the worst torture that Pharoah could dream up, and the last words to leave her lips were a supplication to Allah that was eternally recorded and recited in the Qur'an.
Khadijah (radhiAllahu 'anha) lost her societal standing, her wealth, was exiled into a barren desert and starved to death for the sake of Islam.
Haajar ('alayhassalaam) was left in an empty desert devoid of water and all sustenance, with an infant in her arms, and did not utter a word of complaint because of her belief in Allah.
Sumayyah bint Khayyat was raped with a foreign object until she died from it, maintaining her testimony of faith while her husband and son, who suffered torture that was nowhere near as fatal, wept because their tongues renounced Islam.
Al-Ghaamidiyyah returned to RasulAllah, her child in her arms, begging over and over that he purify her of the sin of zina by establishing the Hadd punishment, while Maa'ez ran away in fear.
Umm Habibah left her homeland, impoverished and a stranger to the language and customs and environment of Abyssinia, a political and spiritual refugee and member of a tiny minority - and then watched in horror as her husband, also a Muslim, became an alcoholic and then left Islam entirely before dying an ignominous death. Entirely alone, Umm Habibah refused to compromise on her faith.
Thousands of Muslim women today face abuse, rape, isolation, domestic violence, crippling poverty, are ostracized from their communities, are slandered and defamed... and yet hold to Islam with every fibre of their being, their hearts raw and yet fused with Tawheed, firm in their belief even when they find themselves faltering in every other way.
The strength of women from the dawn of time is more than any man can imagine, more powerful than they can fathom, and in their fear and their ignorance, they call us weak.
Allah, the Witness over all things, is a Witness to the strength of women, and it is His Strength we call upon when the cruelty of men seeks to render us weak.

Friday, July 01, 2016

These Are Our Men

Far too few of us appreciate the strength Muslim men have to hold their heads up with dignity when the world does its best to humiliate them. Even fewer of us understand the depth of love those men have for their families - for the ones whose sake, after Allah's, they endure all.
The ‪#‎TrueQawwam‬ amongst us are never given their due: men who prostrate in humility and in strength; men whose hearts break in silence; men whose love is never considered good enough; men whose struggles never end; men whose hearts give and give and give and receive little in return.
These are the men found in the houses of Allah, who rise with dignity, bow with honour, and prostrate in humility; these are the men whose love for their Lord and whose nobility of spirit do not allow them to forsake their families and their faith even when they feel their spines aching from the weight of their human weakness.
These are the men whose voices rise in takbeer while their hearts ache in the alcoves of the masaajid; whose calloused palms stroke their daughters' hair with a tenderness that cannot be hidden by their beards; whose sons see them as lions, fierce and playful, though they look in the mirror and see only their own weariness.
These are the men who will be raised on the Day of Judgment as greater than any mortal king, brighter than any dazzling star, whose beauty on that Day will be blinding to we who scorned their earthly visages.
These are our men: our fathers, our brothers, our husbands, our sons - and those who are none of those things to us, but are our men nonetheless.
These are our men.

Monday, June 06, 2016

Is Your Child Evil?

When parents make du'a for their children, many of us often beseech Allah to protect them from all harm and evil, from being afflicted or oppressed, from being hurt or experiencing pain... but how many of us make du'a to Allah that He keep our children from *being* of those who harm others, who are sources of pain and damage to those around them?
In Surah al-Kahf, al-Khidr ('alayhissalaam) killed a young boy who had done them no wrong. In horror, Musa ('alayhissalaam) exclaimed, "Have you killed an innocent person?!" Unperturbed, al-Khidr only answered, "Did I not tell you that you will not be patient with me?"
It is only at the end of their journey that Musa ('alayhissalaam) is told that the parents of this boy were true believers, and that the boy would have grown up to be a source of disbelief and transgression.
As parents, we want to believe only the best about our children (and ourselves) - that they are pure and innocent, that we are raising them to be kind, honest, good people. Every once in a while, we might see something not so sweet and kind from them, though... an incident of bullying at the park, perhaps; a schoolyard spat that turns into something nastier; a tendency to be harsh or cruel or malicious. It's all too easy to insist, "It wasn't my child's fault!"
But the thing is... maybe it was. Maybe it *was* our child who was the bully, who deliberately did something hurtful, who saw a moment of weakness in someone else and took advantage of it.
In these moments, we shouldn't let ourselves be the people who stick their heads in the sand and deny that our precious little angels are capable of anything more than cherubic mischief. We should be the parents who are keenly aware that every tyrant on this earth was once a child; every abuser, every oppressor, every less-than-decent individual was once young, and had parents who were responsible for their upbringing (usually, anyway).
As Muslims, we know that we already have something at our disposal that others don't: the power of a parent's du'a. All the parenting workshops in the world, all the heart-to-heart talks and attachment parenting, all the love in the world cannot actually guarantee that our children will be pious, righteous, upright, outstanding believers and human beings.
Only Allah can do that.
So know that our parenting skills will amount to nothing if we do not also turn to the Creator of ourselves and our children, the Turner of Hearts, and beg of Him to protect our offspring not only from experiencing harm, but of being the cause of harm to others.
Rabbanaa hab lanaa min azwaajinaa wa thurriyyaatinaa qurrata a'yun, waj'alnaa lil muttaqina imaamaa.
{Our Lord, grant us from among our wives and offspring comfort to our eyes and make us an example for the righteous.}

To Be My Father's Daughter

One of the oddest, and best, things about growing up is developing my relationship with my father. I had started life as a daddy's girl and then, predictably as puberty hit, warred with him constantly about... well, everything, lol. (And didn't help that I shared his short temper, stubbornness, and refusal to admit to being wrong. Heh.)
It was only later - in fact, just a year or so before I got married and left home - that I found myself actually *wanting* to have conversations with him and spend time around him. Once I'd gotten over how (and finally understand why) we spent so many years seeing him for so little time due to his work as a grassroots imam, I started to notice so many other things about him. His killer sense of snide humour, his deadpan sarcasm at the most unexpected of moments (like in the middle of teaching 'Aqeedah or 'Umdatul Ahkaam), his eye for fashion (for a man who wears dishdasha and ghutra, and hasn't worn Western clothing in two decades, he knows an awful lot about men's clothing), his outdated Canadian slang ("why are you such a hoser, eh?")
It's funny, but I can honestly say that my father is probably most responsible for my evolution as a Salafi feminist.
He is a Salafi of the old school, who still gives side-eye to pants below the ankles and has an epic beard that gets more comments than his actual work. Thankfully, he has none of the takfeeri tendencies and worst character traits of our ideological tribe. (The word "bid'ah" remains a favourite, however - I would mimic his "wa kulla bid'atin dalaalah, wa kulla dalaatin fin-naar!" on the ride back from Jumu'ah with gusto.) I make fun of all his ‪#‎VintageSalafi‬ moments and troll his FB page gleefully because it's just too hard to pass up all the opportunities to point out how he lives in a little Salafi bubble in his head.
He also bought me my first (and currently, only) motorcycle - a battery-operated Fisher-Price Harley Davidson - and my first biker jacket. He took it as a given that I would study Islamic Studies (but forgot to tell me that the Islamic University of Medinah doesn't accept female students).
When I was a toddler, he used to take me with him to Masjid anNabawi, where he used to spend time with his friends and fellow students of the Islamic university; up until I hit 13, I used to accompany him everywhere - grocery shopping, Islamic classes, distributing sadaqah (charity) bags for the Muslim food bank he'd started. I listened to him, and watched him, and learned from him.
More than anything else, he ingrained in me the importance of grassroots da'wah: the importance of connecting to individuals and families, the power of a sincere smile and 'as-salaamu 'alaikum', the necessity of putting aside personal free time for the sake of Allah, the ability to develop a thick skin because in da'wah, appreciation is not something we should ever expect.
At the age of 14, I started writing articles for our local Muslim newspaper; I was outraged and offended when people would ask if there was a misprinting of names and if he were the actual author. I quickly realized that it was actually a compliment of sorts, if still offensive due to the sexist assumptions.
The more I learned about feminism and realized how strongly I identified with it, the more I spoke about it, and the more he would snort in annoyance and then say dumb things to make me mad. It took me a little too long to catch on and just roll my eyes at him. What he would never admit, though, is that occasionally I've managed to convince him of my own positions and prove that I'm right 
When I moved to Malaysia to live with my parents after my divorce, one of my first goals was to *finally* do Islamic Studies in some kind of formal capacity. My dad was the one who drove me for an hour to get to the Islamic center where Sh. Isam Rajab was teaching his first Diploma class, and drove back another hour to get home - 4 days a week, on top of his full-time job and his many other responsibilities.
During car rides, and before going to bed, I'd spend hours hanging out with my dad, making stupid jokes, showing him random stuff on the Internet, and talking about all the latest issues on the Muslim cyberscen and da'wah circles. I'd argue with him about women's issues, unsatisfied with the typical imam answers he'd give me; then he'd help me do the research for my next fiery Salafi feminist article and never admit that he was involved. (He'll forever deny that he has anything to do with my rants, but will tell me about how he has friends who read them.)
On road trips and visa runs to Thailand, Indonesia, and elsewhere, he and I would make a beeline for the malls and local markets, excited about all the fun stuff. My mom would trail behind us, complaining that she wanted to see nature, not do more shopping. Even now, he sends me pictures of all the things he knows I love and tell me that it's my mom who won't let him buy it for me.
Even during strained and tense moments - and there certainly been a fair amount of them - I find myself unable to stay furious at him.
Out of myself and my three younger brothers, we all know that I am the one most closely following in his footsteps (even if I don't have the male privilege he does when it comes to studying and opportunities lol). When he Skypes every day, sometimes twice a day, and says he really just called to speak to the Mouseling, she's the first one to point out that we're talking over her and not letting her speak. Oddly, I feel protective over him; I'd long ago developed a strong sense of gheerah for him, staring down women whom I felt were inappropriate in their interactions with him, and I have no problem sending a pointed FB message to anyone who takes their joking with him on his FB page a little too far.
I have been described as my father's daughter more than once - by masjid aunties pinching my cheeks; by my ex-husband, telling me that I'm a woman and can't get away with being as outspoken and stubborn.
Once, it used to bother me - I wanted an identity that was more than just "the shaykh's daughter" - but now, having established that individual identity of my own, I'm proud to hear those words. I know that I come nowhere close to him in the impact he has had on people's lives, that I know nothing in comparison to his Islamic knowledge, but I pray that one day, I can at least come close to it.
May Allah protect our fathers, increase them in good, forgive them their faults, and bring us all together in Jannah, ameen.

Just Enough

We are the daughters who spent our girlhoods watching our mothers teach us what it meant to be women:
Pretty (enough so that mothers-in-law can preen over their collection of aesthetically pleasing daghters-in-law; but not enough to be beautiful, lest she be accused of vanity)
Smart (enough to raise four children, to care for them and teach them, to learn the cruel lessons of the real world; but not enough to be educated, to ever have hope of sitting in a classroom and delight in debates on history and sociology and art and science)
Strong (enough to not cry when they left home for a new country of strangers; enough to give birth to one, two, three children alone; enough to not flinch at the casual callousness and unintentional cruelty of husbands; but not enough to say no, not enough to raise her voice, not enough to be her own champion)
Patient (enough to endure years of being taken for granted, enough to bear the burdens of everyone else around her; enough to be a loyal and faithful wife; but not enough to keep the taste of bitterness out of her tea and off her tongue, not enough to keep hope in herself alive, not enough to remember that patience doesn't always mean suffering)
We are the girls who watched our mothers and learned that to be a woman meant to be just pretty enough, just smart enough, just strong enough, just patient enough... but never more than that.
After all, a woman who is more than pretty and more than smart and more than strong and more than patient is no longer a woman - she is more than a woman, and for all that our mothers love us, they fear their daughters becoming more than the women they were themselves.
Remember, daughters: be just enough, and never more, lest you betray your mothers' sacrifices.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Speaking Truth to Power: The Eloquence of the Prophet's Granddaughter

AHL-BAYT – the family of Prophet Muhammad,–those bound to him by blood and by marriage, those whom he spoke of in his sermon at Khumm:
And the people of my household, I remind you of Allah with regard to the people of my household! I remind you of Allah with regard to the people of my household, I remind you of Allah with regard to the people of my household. (Muslim)
And how can we uphold the rights of Ahl Al-Bayt without knowing who they are? We commonly know about the wives of the Prophet and we know of his grandsons Al-Ḥassan and Al-Ḥussain, but many of us do not know about the one granddaughter of the Prophet who played an important role during a turbulent period of Islamic history.

Amongst the Women of Ahl Al-Bayt

This woman was Zaynab bint Ali ibn Abi Ṭâlib. Sadly, her name and personality are unfamiliar to many of us, though she was the granddaughter of the Prophet, the daughter of Fâṭimah bint Muhammad  and Ali ibn Abi Ṭâlib.
She was born in the year 5 AH, during the lifetime of the Prophet  and was in fact named by him, after his daughter and her aunt, Zaynab bint Muhammad . She was the third child of Fatimah—daughter of the Prophet —and Ali—nephew and son-in-law of the Prophet —born after her brothers Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein. Though the Prophet  died when she was about five years old, her love for him never waned.
As she grew older, many sought her hand in marriage, desiring to be joined with the family of the Messenger of Allah . However, her father waited until a man of equal standing came to propose: her cousin, Abdullâh ibn Ja'far ibn Abi Ṭâlib.
Though Abdullâh became a wealthy man, Zaynab herself was a woman who lived simply. With her husband’s support, she used her wealth to provide support for the vulnerable and the needy; it is said that she owned a house which she did not keep for herself to live in, but used as a shelter for vulnerable women, orphans, and the elderly.
In addition, she was a woman who memorized the Quran and was known for her knowledge of the dîn; she regularly held classes where she taught the women of Madinah—and later, Kûfa—though her knowledge was known even to the men. Ibn Abbas related aâdîth upon her authority.
Her nephew, Zayn Al-Âbidin, referred to her as, âlima ghayr mu'allama (‘she who has knowledge without being taught’). She was a woman of piety and had a deep love for worshipping Allah, spending her nights in prayer and her days fasting. People around her spoke of her as âbida (the worshiper), zâhida (the ascetic), faia (the skillfully fluent), and balîgha (intensely eloquent).
Thus, long before any of the troubling political incidents during her father’s khilâfa (caliphate, rule) and the subsequent years, Zaynab bint Ali ibn Abi Ṭâlib was a woman whose piety, good character, and knowledge were already known. She was a beloved wife who was supported by her husband; a sister whose older brothers consulted her for her wisdom in many matters.
However, the swiftly changing political landscape of the Islamic empire was inescapable, especially for Zaynab. Her father’s assassination and the death of her brother Al-Ḥassan came as devastating blows to herself and to the Ummah; Al-Ḥussain then gathered his family together, including his sister Zaynab and her children, and together they traveled from Madinah to Makkah. After the uneasy truce during the khilâfa of Mu'âwiyah ibn Abi Sufyân, the ascension of Yazîd ibn Mu'âwiyah as khalîfa (caliph) resulted in far more overt turmoil. Once again, Al-Ḥussain decided to travel, and his family refused to stay behind – the men, women, and children all formed a caravan and made their way to Iraq, where the people of Kûfa had promised their allegiance to the grandson of the Prophet.
Alas, once the members of Ahl Al-Bayt arrived, they found to their shock a completely different state of affairs than what they were expecting – rather than a loyal group of the twelve thousand people who had already sworn bay'â (oath of allegiance) to Al-Ḥussain, barely a hundred people remained at Al-Ḥussain’s side. Betrayed by the people of Kûfa, they found themselves driven towards Karbala, where every member of Al-Ḥussain’s household knew full well what stark reality awaited them.
Yazîd ibn Mu'âwiyah had dispatched an army of 4,000 soldiers under the command of Ibn Ziyad, a ruthless military general and politician. There, in the desolate plains of Karbala, Al-Ḥussain and Zaynab bint Abi Ṭâlib sat together in their tent, their children gathered around them, knowing full well that this night might be their last together as a family. Sorrowful yet firm in their faith in Allah, they knew that their qadar (destiny) could not be averted. Though tears fell from Zaynab’s eyes, she spent the night in prayer seeking the support of her Lord alone.
The next morning, on the 10th of Muḥarram –the day that Musa had been saved from Pharaoh—Allah gave Al-Ḥussain a victory of his own: shahada, martyrdom in the cause of justice against oppression. The death of Al-Ḥussain was, in and of itself, a lesson to the Ummah: to understand that though injustice and oppression may seem to be powerful today, just as they seemed powerful when Al-Ḥussain was killed, Allah alone is the Most Powerful. Victory in the sight of Allah does not always mean that the enemies of Islam are immediately destroyed with a miracle, but that their destruction in the Hereafter will be eternal and all the more painful.

The Story of the 10th of Muharram

Zaynab bint Ali’s jihâd, however, did not end on the Day of Âshûra’. On that day, she lost her youngest son and her brother both; as though that were not enough grief to bear, she and her remaining family members were captured by Ibn Ziyâd and brought to him as prisoners of war.
Dignified even in seeming defeat, Zaynab’s demeanor irritated Ibn Ziyâd, who snapped, “Who is this woman?”
Her slave girl responded, “This is Zaynab, daughter of Fatimah, daughter of the Messenger of Allah .”
Sneering, Ibn Ziyâd said, “Praise be to Allah who humiliated and killed you all.”
Eyes flashing, Zaynab responded,
Rather, praise be to Allah Who honored us with His prophet and thoroughly purified us from filth! It is only the morally corrupt who are humiliated by Allah and the depraved who are disproven, and those are not us, O Ibn Ziyâd!
Angered, Ibn Ziyâd asked her, “How do you find what Allah has done with your family?”
Steadfast as ever, she replied:
They were appointed death and thus went forth to their resting places. Allah will gather [a gathering] between them and you, and you will dispute with each other before Him on Resurrection Day.
Discomfited and taken aback, Ibn Ziyâd turned his attention to Zaynab’s nephew, Zayn Al-Âbidîn ibn Al-Ḥussain, who had been severely injured during the battle. “Who are you?” Ibn Ziyâd demanded to know.
As dignified as his aunt, the young boy answered,
I am Ali ibn Al-Ḥussain.
“Didn’t Allah kill Ali ibn Al-Ḥussain?” Ibn Ziyâd retorted.
“I had an older brother named Ali [ibn Al-Ḥussain] whom your men killed,” Zayn Al-Âbidîn said calmly.
Ibn Ziyâd snapped, “Rather, Allah killed him!”
The boy recited Qur’anic verses in response:
Allah takes the souls at the time of their death. [Sûrat Al-Zumar, 39:42]
No soul can ever die except by Allah’s leave and at a term appointed. [Sûrat Âl Imrân, 3:145]
Furious, Ibn Ziyâd summoned his executioner and commanded that the boy be killed immediately. Zaynab immediately stepped forward and drew her nephew into her embrace, declaring for all to hear,
O Ibn Ziyâd, if this is the case, then kill me with him!
Knowing that to have a defenseless woman killed would be a mark against his own reputation, Ibn Ziyâd commented sourly, “What kind of kinship is this? I think that it is as if she wants me to kill her! Leave him be.”
After this altercation with Ibn Ziyâd, the household of Zaynab bint Ali was sent to Syria to face Yazîd ibn Mu'âwiyah himself. As they were brought forth to his court, a member of Yazîd’s entourage caught sight of Zaynab’s niece, Fâṭimah bint Al-Ḥussain—a beautiful young woman—and demanded that she be given to him as a gift.
Infuriated by this disregard for the dignity of her family—the family of the Prophet, Zaynab bint Ali once again strode forward and spoke fearlessly:
This is neither your right nor his!” she declared to Yazîd.
Angered in turn, Yazîd snarled, “You have lied. This is certainly my right, and if I wanted to [give her to him], I would.”
“No, by Allah!” Zaynab swore, “Allah did not permit you this unless she leaves our faith and practices another religion.”
“How dare you direct such speech toward me!” Yazîd exploded. “The only ones who left the religion are your father and brother!”
“It is through the religion of my father, brother, and grandfather that you, your father, and your grandfather were guided,” Zaynab parried. She paused, and then delivered the speech that became famed throughout history for its eloquence, its ferocity, and its passion.
The Speech Before the Khalifah
The granddaughter of Prophet Muhammad, had just spoken truth to power—in front of Yazîd ibn Mu'âwiyah, the khalîfa, the Umayyad ruler in Syria (Part 1). Zaynab bint Ali paused, and then delivered the speech that became famed throughout history for its eloquence, its ferocity, and its passion.
Allah and His Messenger have spoken the truth, O Yazîd!
Then evil was the consequence to those who dealt in evil, because they denied the revelations of Allah and made a mock of them. [Sûrat Al-Rûm, 30:10]
O Yazîd, did you really think that when we were shackled by the corners of the earth and the sky’s canopies—such that we were herded about as prisoners are herded—that we were humiliated with Allah while you held a position of honor, and that this is due to the greatness of your rank? You turn your nose up at others and look at yourself in exuberant exultation as you see the world lain out before you and your affairs proceeding harmoniously. What you have actually been given is respite and lavishness, but this is the statement of Allah (Glorified and Exalted):
Let not the Unbelievers think that Our respite to them is good for themselves: We grant them respite that they may grow in their iniquity; But they will have a shameful punishment.[Sûrat Âl Imrân, 3:178]
Is it just, O Son of Freedmen, that you keep your wives and female slaves in seclusion while you parade around the daughters of the Messenger of Allah having removed their protective layers and forcing them to raise their voices —depressed, scurried about on camels, enemies guiding them from place to place, unguarded and unsheltered, watched equally by strangers and familiar people, and without a guardian from among their men-folk? How would it even be possible for someone who looks toward us with insolence, hatred, grudges, and malevolence to slow down the pursuit of our abuse?
Did you actually say—without feeling guilty or deeming it significant— “If only lords of mine at Badr could see” while scraping Abu ‘Abdullah’s teeth with your walking stick? How could you be otherwise when you have scraped the scab off the wound and nipped us in the bud by spilling the blood of the progeny of the Messenger of Allah and the stars of the earth from the family of Abd Al-Muṭṭalib? Soon you will most certainly gather together with them before Allah, and you will most certainly wish that you had been blind, mute and did not say, “They’d cry repeatedly with joy.”
O Allah, take the matter of our rights into Your Hands and avenge us of those who have wronged us!
By Allah, you have not run away except within your own skin, and you have not cut anything other than your own flesh. You will come before the Messenger of Allah despite yourself while his flesh and blood are in the Divine Sanctuary on a day when they will be united after having been dispersed. For Allah (Glorified and Exalted) says,
Think not of those who are slain in God’s way as dead. Nay, they live, finding their sustenance in the presence of their Lord. [Sûrat Âl Imrân, 3:169]
Those who positioned and affirmed you in your authority over the lives of Believers will soon know—when Allah is the judge, Muhammad is the plaintiff, and your own wounds bear witness against you for (“evil is the exchange for the wrong-doers” and “who is worst in position and weakest in forces!”)
And even though I deem you to be of paltry worth and heinous anger, our eyes flow and our chests burn. This does not compensate or benefit us as al-Hussain has been killed. The Party of Satan has brought us before the Party of Fools in order to give them the property of Allah as payment for them violating matters made sacred by Allah. Such hands drip with our blood; such mouths nurse from our flesh; and such pure bodies are preyed upon at night by roaming wolves.
So if you take us as booty, you will be held liable when you find nothing other than your own actions before you, screaming, “O Ibn Marjânah[i],” just as he screams for you.  
By Allah, I am afraid of nothing other than Allah, nor do I complain to anyone other than Allah. So scheme away, sally forth, and exert your utmost effort. By Allah, nothing will ever wash away the shame of what you have done to us.
And all praise is due to Allah Who sealed the lives of the masters of the young men of the Gardens with felicity and forgiveness, thereby guaranteeing them Paradise. I ask Allah to raise their ranks and to guarantee them an increase from His largesse, for He is the Omnipotent Guarantor.”[ii]

The Response from the Khalîfa

The words of Zaynab bint ‘Ali echoed throughout the palace, and Yazîd ibn Mu'âwiyah remained silent. Such was the granddaughter of RasûlAllah: unafraid, even in a position of seeming defeat and humiliation, to speak words of truth to an individual who clearly had no hesitation in demanding the blood of his opponents. And such was the baraka (blessings) of her words that, rather than punishing her, Yazîd released her household and returned their wealth to them.
In fact, he was so moved by her words that as the people of Ahl Al-Bayt prepared for their next journey, Yazîd took Zaynab’s nephew Zayn Al-Âbidîn aside to express his remorse for the treatment of the Prophet’s family during the events of the 10th of Muharram and its aftermath.
May Allah curse Ibn Marjânah. Lo, by Allah! Had I been one of your father’s companions, he would never have asked me for anything except that I would have given it to him, and I would have protected him from death with everything I could, even if it meant that one of my sons had to perish. However, Allah decreed what you witnessed, my young son. Write to me from Madinah with all your needs.”
Zaynab and her family chose to go back to Madinah, but their stay was cut short. Alarmed by the reaction of the people of Madinah to Zaynab’s return, the governor Umar ibn Sa'îd wrote swiftly to Yazîd, saying:
The presence of Zaynab in Madinah arouses people’s emotions and roils their thoughts because she is eloquent and intelligent. When she talks, she grabs their undivided attention, and when she delivers a speech, she enchants their minds and hearts. It is possible that she will request justice for the spilling of Al-Hussein’s blood, which will have undesirable effects and ramifications that only Allah knows.
Finally, she retired to Egypt, where she devoted the last years of her life to worshiping Allah, embodying once more her title of âbida.

What We Owe to Ourselves

Thus was Zaynab bint Ali ibn Abi Ṭâlib: a woman in whose veins ran the blood of the Messenger of Allah, whose tongue recited the Words of Allah, whose life was marked by sorrow and grief without end – yet whose faith never wavered, whose courage never diminished, whose dignity never faded.
It is all too easy to end her story on such a note, to admire her as a heroine without peer, to place her upon a pedestal and leave her there. However, her life was much more than just a fascinating historical incident – rather, it is a sign for us to reflect upon, a lesson for us to learn from.
Ahl Al-Bayt. Karbala. Al-Ḥassan. Al-Ḥussain. Yazîd. These terms and names tend to make many of us feel uncomfortable, referencing incidents in the history of the Muslim Ummah both painful and polarizing. The aftereffects of those events continue to be felt today, and are considered to be one of the main reasons for the difference between Ahl Al-Sunnah wa Al-Jamâ'ah, and the Shî'a. Outside of academia, the topic usually arises in Muharram and the Day of Ashura’ – and even then, the focus for Ahl Al-Sunnah lies not in discussing what took place at Karbala, but on the Sunnah of fasting the 9th and 10th of Muarram.
However, it is time that we of Ahl Al-Sunnah question why we shy away from speaking aboutAhl Al-Bayt –the family of RasûlAllah including his grandchildren Al-Hassan, Al-Hussein, and Zaynab bint Ali–when we are the ones who should love them most. Their stories are our stories to know; their lives are examples for us to learn from.
Furthermore, we have spent far too long focusing on the Shî'vs. Sunni aspect of the events of Karbala without once stopping to think about what we have to learn from it about ourselves – about our tendency to deflect, to avoid acknowledging difficult realities in our Ummah, to avoid taking responsibility for ourselves and our own mistakes. We owe it to ourselves, to our Ummah, to come to terms with this sordid history—and actively to stop perpetuating its fallout. How?
Zaynab bint Ali was a powerful figure because she called out the brutality of Muslims towards other Muslims, towards the family of RasûlAllah himself. Today, we might not be harming Ahl Al-Bayt, personally, ourselves, but this Ummah is supposed to be one body, and we need look no further than our own masajid to see the pain we have wrought amongst ourselves.
The pulpits of our masâjid have become bastions of sectarian politics, where it is considered dangerous to make du'â’ for the Muslims oppressed by our own leaders, and where support for homicidal tyrants murdering their own people is not seen as a bizarre aberration. Sisi and Bashar Al-Assad are the names we speak today, but this is not a new phenomenon: Mu‘ammar Gaddafi, Husni Mubarak, Saddam Hussein, and so many more – uncountable names, for so many generations. Nay, we Muslims, we who claim to follow the Sunnah of RasûlAllah, are the ones who uphold oppression against each other out of petty worldly greed, preferring politics over piety.
Much of our reluctance to speak about the events of Karbala, to learn about the lives of Ahl Al-Bayt and what was done to them, is a reflection of our general weakness in being hesitant to admit that Muslims can and do turn on each other because of power and politics, and use din as a justification for dunyawi goals.
The story of Zaynab bint ‘Ali has very little to do with Shî'vs. Ahl Al-Sunnah, and everything to do with learning what it means to face the harsh realities of our Ummah. Her spirit and her words, her devotion to Allah and her refusal to accept quiet defeat, should inspire us to have the courage and determination to speak against the wrongdoing that we commit amongst ourselves.
We cannot claim to be obedient to Allah or to love His Messenger when we are the ones who abuse each other – politically or financially, within our homes and within our marriages. There is no outward enemy to blame for the Muslims in our own communities who are being beaten and abused by their own spouses because we are not providing them with the support they need; there is no one else to blame when we support political parties or individuals whose concern is not justice, but power over the masses.
Like Zaynab bint Ali, we must be ready to prove our sincerity of faith by being willing to experience hardship and difficulty for the sake of Allah – seeking His Pleasure alone, finding our honor not in trifling political tidbits or the advantages of financial gain, but in living His din and striving to fulfill what it means to be the khulafâ’ (guardians) of this earth.
We are currently the Ibn Ziyad’s of our Ummah, but we can also be its Zaynab’s… if only we have the courage to live like the forgotten heroes and heroines of our past.

Monday, May 16, 2016

My Khul', My Freedom

Almost three years ago today, I fought for my right to receive a khul’… and received it. It was painful and exhilarating all at once; I was twenty-two years old, I had been married for almost four and a half years, and I had a three-year-old daughter. I had asked for khul’ three times in the span of about a year, and each time I had been denied.

This last time, I stood my ground – and finally received what I knew to be my Shari’ah right.

The ‘iddah (or waiting period before being permitted to re-marry) of khul’ is only one menstrual cycle, unlike that of talaq or widowhood. Whereas a woman who has been given a talaq is obliged to stay within her husband’s home, I– being a woman who had chosen to leave the marriage– left my then-husband’s home as well, and spent that time with my family instead.

The night I received my khul’’, my tears were of relief, excitement, and joy. The next morning, as I sailed on the ferry that would take me back to my grandparents’ home, I buried my face in my best friend’s shoulder and wept for all that had passed.

My ‘iddah lasted all of two weeks, and it was a period of time marked by numerous emotions, a flash flood of exhilaration and anger, sorrow and jubilance, shattering uncertainty about the future, and a sense of renewal for my life. Every sajdah was filled with an overflowing sense of gratefulness that I had been given this opportunity that so many other women are denied; every rak’ah was performed with an aching heart and guilt at what I had chosen to do.

I wish I could say that I used my ‘iddah as a time of thoughtfulness and reflection, of heightened spirituality and increased maturity, but to be honest… to be honest, I was mostly just giddy with excitement. After four and a half years, it was a huge relief to be able to be myself again; to be able to laugh out loud, to wear a pair of shoes I liked, to be able to speak my own opinions without being censured or punished for being ‘a bad wife.’

For those two weeks, though I chafed at being kept indoors by my family, I spent a significant portion of my time simply making lists of all the things I couldn’t wait to do as soon as my ‘iddah was over.

My ‘iddah was a time where I felt like I was able to rediscover myself: remembering the person I really was behind the layers of anxiety and depression and the innumerable restrictions that had been placed on my own personality. I was able to write freely again, as though someone had removed a muzzle from my heart and mind; I could speak with honesty, instead of choosing my words based on what a certain individual wanted to hear; I could finally make choices for myself again, as a grown woman, and not someone whose existence was tied to the demands of someone else.

My identity as a Muslim woman was no longer dependent on being someone’s obedient wife; my future in the Hereafter was not hinged on another human being’s mood swings. I was, for the first time in my life (or so it felt), a grown woman whose spiritual status was a matter solely between herself and her Lord.

It was divorce, not marriage, which brought me closer to Allah and filled me with a strength of sincerity that I had not experienced in a long, long time.

When my ‘iddah ended, the first thing I did was go for a walk, hand in hand with my three-year-old daughter, retracing the neighborhood steps of my childhood and adolescence. It was here that I felt my life had come almost full-circle; here was the place that I had always felt happiest, where I had anticipated my future with eagerness, where I had experienced the early, simple struggles of adolescence and felt myself growing into the type of person I hoped to be. Now, once again, I felt the same joy and excitement, the same growing pains and the sense of discomfort that accompanies true change.

I tipped my head back towards the sun, and smiled.

{So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?} (Qur’an 55:13)

Zainab Bint Younus (the Salafi Feminist) is a Canadian Muslim woman who tries to write thoughtfully about women of Islamic history and positive polygyny when not ranting against the patriarchy. Having sought divorce at the age of 22, she maintains that it was one of the best decisions of her life (tied with her choice to enter into polygyny and live happily ever after with her husband and best friend).

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Unveiling the Hoor al-'Ayn (Part 3)

Is Jannah Gender-Specific?

"Why does Jannah favor men?” Faced with the existence of the Ḥûr Al-În, there are many women who want to know why it is that Jannah seems so gender specific. “What about male ḥûr?”

The most common response tends to be “AstaghfirAllâh! How can a woman ask such a thing?” Alas, this simply goes to show the common attitude of many Muslims towards the idea of women having any kind of intimate needs, or being ‘forward’ in expressing those desires.

However, it is a valid question that remains, and one that many try to avoid answering directly. Some may try to be evasive and remind women that they can get jewelry, pearls, and palaces – which, while true (and equally applicable to men in many cases), still does not address the matter. Nor is the question one that has only come up recently as a result of women being ‘influenced by the kuffâr,’ as some try to insinuate.

In fact, there are three recorded incidents in which female Companions of the Prophet œ posed very similar questions to him directly. They too wondered why it seemed that the Quran addressed men so often and in detail, while leaving things vague when it comes to women.

On one occasion:

Umm Salamah (wife of the Prophet) said: “O Messenger of Allah! I did not hear a Verse in the Quran regarding the Hijra (migration with the Prophet) of women.”

Then was revealed the Verse: And their Lord has accepted of them, and answered them: Never will I suffer to be lost the work of any of you, be he male or female: ye are members, one of another: those who have left their homes, and were driven out therefrom, and suffered harm in My cause, and fought and were slain – Verily I will blot out from them their inequities, and admit them into gardens with rivers flowing beneath; … A reward from Allah, and from Allah is the best of rewards. [Sûrat Âl Imrân, 4:195] (Tirmidhi, # 3023)

Imam Aḥmad, Imam Al-Nasâ’i and Imam Ibn Jarîr recorded that Umm Salamah, may Allah be pleased with her, the wife of the Prophet said:

I said to the Prophet, `Why is it that we are not mentioned in the Quran as men are?’ Then one day without my realizing it, he was calling from the Minbar and I was combing my hair, so I tied my hair back then I went out to my chamber in my house, and I started listening out, and he was saying from the Minbar: “O people! Verily Allah says:

Indeed, the Muslim men and Muslim women, the believing men and believing women, the obedient men and obedient women, the truthful men and truthful women, the patient men and patient women, the humble men and humble women, the charitable men and charitable women, the fasting men and fasting women, the men who guard their private parts and the women who do so, and the men who remember Allah often and the women who do so – for them Allah has prepared forgiveness and a great reward. [Sûrat Al-Aḥzâb, 33:35]

Another female Companion, Umm Imârah, Nusaybah bint Ka'b, narrated:

I went to the Messenger of Allah  and said to him, “I feel that everything is for men. Women are not mentioned as having anything! Verse 35 of Sûrat Al-Ahzâb was then sent down. (Tirmidhi # 3211 & 2565)

Clearly, the women around the Messenger  did not simply sit by idle and unquestioning. Rather, they ensured that they approached him directly and sought clarification for their inquiries; in turn, Allah Himself reassured them with the promise of something far greater than they could have imagined for themselves.

Going back to the question of why Allah does not speak about certain specific rewards of Jannah for women (especially those of a sexual nature), some scholars have said that it is due to the shyness and modesty of the Prophet. This may or may not have some merit, as it is clear elsewhere in the Quran and Sunnah that Allah declares that He is not shy to speak of any matter. Others, however, have noted that when Allah mentions the greatest deeds that a believer can do, the rewards for those deeds are left mysteriously unmentioned:

Say, “O My servants who have believed, fear your Lord. For those who do good in this world is good, and the earth of Allah is spacious. Indeed, the patient will be given their reward without account.” [Sûrat Al-Zumar, 39:10]

Every action of the son of Adam is given manifold reward, each good deed receiving (a reward of) ten times its like, up to seven hundred times. Allah the Most High said, ‘…except for fasting, for it is for Me and I will give recompense for it; he leaves off his desires and his food for Me.’ (Bukhâri)

Most scholars explain this âyah and ḥadîth as referring to patience and fasting, and the reward for both is considered to be so magnificent and great that Allah has chosen not to describe it specifically so as to emphasize that the greatness of that reward cannot be imagined by the human mind. There is no evidence to say that this lack of description is restricted solely to the reward for fasting or patience, as we already know that Jannah is full of that which no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind can comprehend Jannah.

An Eternity of Experience

Before we go back to the specific issue of what women will receive in Jannah, there is something else we must first look at – what is Jannah, exactly, and is it really all that gender-specific?

It was narrated from Abû Hurayrah that the Prophet said:

Allah says: ‘I have prepared for My righteous slaves that which no eye has seen, no ear has heard and it has never crossed the mind of man. All of that is reserved, besides which all that you have known is as nothing.’ Then he recited: No person knows what is kept hidden for them of joy as a reward for what they used to do. [Sûrat Al-Sajdah, 32:17] (Bukhâri # 3072; Muslim #2824)

The Quran describes Paradise in numerous verses, mentioning both common rewards and specific features of the celestial plane:

Therein will be a running spring.

Therein will be thrones raised high.

And cups set at hand,

And cushions set in rows,

And rich carpets (all) spread out. [Sûrat Al-Ghâshiyah 88:12-16]

But for the one who fears the standing before their Lord, there will be two Gardens (i.e. in Paradise).

Then which of the Blessings of your Lord will you both (jinn and men) deny?

With spreading branches –

Then which of the Blessings of your Lord will you both (jinn and men) deny?

In them (both) will be two springs flowing (free) –

Then which of the Blessings of your Lord will you both (jinn and men) deny?

In them (both) will be every kind of fruit in pairs. [Sûrat Al-Raḥmân, 55:46-52]

So Allah will protect them from the evil of that Day and give them radiance and happiness:

And will reward them for what they patiently endured [with] a garden [in Paradise] and silk [garments].

[They will be] reclining therein on adorned couches. They will not see therein any [burning] sun or [freezing] cold.

And near above them are its shades, and its [fruit] to be picked will be lowered in compliance.

And there will be circulated among them vessels of silver and cups having been [created] clear [as glass],

Clear glasses [made] from silver of which they have determined the measure.

And they will be given to drink a cup [of wine] whose mixture is of ginger

[From] a fountain within Paradise named Salsabîl.

There will circulate among them young boys made eternal. When you see them, you would think them [as beautiful as] scattered pearls.

And when you look there [in Paradise], you will see pleasure and great dominion.

Upon the inhabitants will be green garments of fine silk and brocade. And they will be adorned with bracelets of silver, and their Lord will give them a purifying drink.

[And it will be said], “Indeed, this is for you a reward, and your effort has been appreciated.” [Sûrat Al-Insân, 76:11-22]

Almost every verse of the Quran that elaborates about Jannah, applies its rewards to men and women alike. In fact, there is a deliberate emphasis on men and women being rewarded with full justice in Paradise.

And their Lord responded to them, “Never will I allow to be lost the work of [any] worker among you, whether male or female; you are of one another. So those who emigrated or were evicted from their homes or were harmed in My cause or fought or were killed – I will surely remove from them their misdeeds, and I will surely admit them to gardens beneath which rivers flow as reward from Allah, and Allah has with Him the best reward.” [Sûrat Âl Imrân, 3:195]

Besides the Quran, we also learn from the Prophet about the many incredible things that will be available for believers.

The Messenger of Allah said:

In Jannah there is a market to which the people will come every Friday. The northern wind will blow and shower fragrance on their faces and clothes and, consequently, it will enhance their beauty and loveliness. They will then return to their spouses who will also have increased in their beauty and loveliness, and their families will say to them: ‘We swear by Allah that you have been increased in beauty and loveliness since leaving us.’ Thereupon they will reply: ‘We swear by Allah that you have also been increased in beauty and loveliness since we left you.’ (Muslim)

Indeed, in Paradise there is a market in which there is no buying nor selling- except for images of men and women. So whenever someone desires an image, they enter it. (Tirmidhi)

Sa'îd bin Al-Musayyab said, Abû Hurairah said:

I supplicate Allah to bring you and me together in the marketplace of Paradise,” Sa'îd said: “Is there a marketplace there?” He said: “Yes. The Messenger of Allah told me that when the people of Paradise enter it, they will take their places according to their deeds, and they will be given permission for a length of time equivalent to Friday on earth, when they will visit Allah.

His Throne will be shown to them and He will appear to them in one of the gardens of Paradise. Chairs of light and chairs of pearls and chairs of rubies and chairs of chrysotile and chairs of gold and chairs of silver will be placed for them. Those who are of a lower status than them –and none of them will be regarded as insignificant– will sit on sand hills of musk and camphor, and they will not feel that those who are sitting on chairs are seated better than them.”

Abû Hurairah said: “I said: ‘O Messenger of Allah, will we see our Lord?’

He said: ‘Yes. Do you dispute that you see the sun and the moon on the night when it is full?’ We said: ‘No.’ He said: ‘Likewise, you will not dispute that you see your Lord, the Glorified. There will be no one left in that gathering with whom Allah does not speak face to face, until He will say to a man among you: “Do you not remember, O so-and-so, the day you did such and such?” And He will remind him of some of his sins in this world. He will say: “O Lord, have You not forgiven me?” He will say: “Yes, it is by the vastness of My forgiveness that You have reached the position you are in.” While they are like that, a cloud will cover them from above and will rain down on them perfume the like of whose fragrance they have never smelled before. Then He will say: “Get up and go to the honor that has been prepared for you, and take whatever you desire.”

So we will go to a marketplace surrounded by the angels, in which there will be such things as eyes have never seen, ears have never heard and it has not entered the heart of man. Whatever we desire will be carried for us. Nothing will be bought or sold therein. In that marketplace the people of Paradise will meet one another. A man of elevated status will meet those who are of lower status than him, but none shall be regarded as insignificant, and he will be dazzled by the clothes that he sees on him. He will not finish the last of his conversation before better clothes appear on him. That is because no one should be sad there.’” “He said: ‘Then we will go back to our homes where we will be met by our spouses, and they will say: ‘Welcome. You have come looking more handsome and with a better fragrance than when you left us.’ And we will say: ‘Today we sat with our Lord, the Compeller, the Glorified, and we deserve to come back as we have come back.’” (Ibn Mâjah)

It is clear, therefore, that the default state of rewards in Jannah is not gender-specific, but are of a huge variety that will be shared amongst men and women alike. Jannah is, essentially, an eternity of experience – not only what has been mentioned, but so much more of what hasn’t. The believers will not only be able to enjoy incredible foods and drinks, live in amazing palaces, visit each other and interact with fascinating individuals who lived long before and long after their own period of time on earth – they will also be able to see Allah Himself, which is truly the greatest reward of all.

And yet… the question still stands: If men get the Hûr Al-În in Jannah, what do women get that is just as special to them? Part 4 will discuss this in greater detail, inshâ’Allah.