“I’m Queer”: Grappling with Orthodoxy as an Asexual Muslim Woman

Laura P.

Laura P.

Recalcitrant. Disobedient. Deserving punishment. These words filled my mind one night in March 2014 as I bowed, and then dropped to the floor to prostrate before Allah.

Prayer before bed is usually my quiet time. Standing alone in a darkened apartment as the rest of the world goes to sleep, I often find stillness of mind. A renewed connection with Allah after a busy day.

Not always. Sometimes my mind is sticky, refusing to let go of a problem that frustrates me. Or a minor comment from the morning looms large. They’re wrong and this is why, I think. How dare they? Other times my thoughts, though still distracting, are more productive. The solution to a puzzle presents itself. Words form a lovely turn of phrase for an essay.

But that night my thoughts were darker. I’d been reading commentary on Qur’an 4:34. The verse reads in part:

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Faith, Marriage, and Scrabble

Author

My fiancé Ahmed came to the US from his native Turkey in part to escape from the societal pressures of his culture. This resonated with me, because I left small-town Oklahoma for a similar reason. We both wanted to make our way in the world unfettered by other people’s expectations.

But, when it came time for him to propose, he ran it by his family. Naturally, they asked if I was a Muslim. When he said no, they gave him the skeptical eye, which annoyed him to no end. But he loved them and wanted to explain his decision in a language they could appreciate.

“One Surah of the Quran,” he told them, “says that sometimes what seems good is actually bad, and what seems bad is actually good. Maybe you hate a thing and it is good for you, and perhaps you love a thing but it is bad for you. Only Allah knows.”

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Hey Autism, Verily with Difficulty There is Ease

Lil D-and-Dilshad-at-the-lake

Spring break on the beach: Are we a couple of free-wheeling college students on Daytona Beach? Nah. We’re a family of five (seven with my in-laws included) who decided to come to a beach in South Carolina because it seemed the only place that everyone, especially our eldest son, would have some fun.

The question asked by so many leading up to this trip was: What do you think will happen?

Meaning, our family’s life — in a way — has been held hostage the past several months by the extreme behavioral changes in Lil D. So, what will happen if we take our family out of our home and the home/school routine, which has been both a safe haven and a kind of prison for Lil D of late? How will we handle him in an unfamiliar environment?

It’s the beach, I told everyone. It’s the ocean. It’s the one thing that has made him happy in the past. So, it can’t be any worse than what’s been going on at home and school. It can only be the same, or better.

Would it be like the reunion of two old souls in some epic Hollywood love story? Their eyes meet. Would the love rekindle? Would the spark still be there?
 
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