1 10 2 https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/62030/archive/files/cf81c593ec314dcd947de319f31b7a63.pdf?Expires=1787788800&Signature=CGZr2eNdZUv6j%7EydVqj8d%7EJ39NYncUVOOfNhVh2ubIx5BqWtOKFhaZnwBqeYb8DfScpMMQpsLvhmi1-ztBfgMRInjtyC3jkqIMmteplnKr8C7ErCrTG5vJkboZz%7EqZ0n%7El3pMRa%7E96SG6Tyt09YPtGEny4O%7EGVVex%7E%7ENoX%7ENkc5W7Roh4iLpGhBRlF8HeE3ntlYdRPSFE5mTGrq2sAk4zAoZ44UBX9zIimrRvHjIK9PX5osHevwi9kszyNsc-54VwK2VArmU-a0l7Tq4W2KKTBgdZY7vR8qBxWOLch9G%7EZNBpOOEYP7xbUZ8dLOscXXc9Si3n0doC3JiPLb9eP2Rtw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 9c13dbc239e591969ed073be0b41e266 PDF Text Text 16Commentary The McGill Daily, Thursday, April 1, 2010 HYDE PARK Looking for shelter Muslim students at McGill still don’t have a prayer space Salman Hafeez P rayer forms one of the five pillars of Islam: Muslims are required to pray five times a day. Prayer is a means of communication with Allah, and also one of the important means that Muslim students rely on to cope with the demands of an exhausting university life. As a Muslim student at McGill, I have always longed for a proper prayer space on campus. When I arrived in Canada three years ago from 10 time zones away, I was shocked and disappointed to learn that the Muslim Students’ Association (MSA) had recently been evicted from its former space. Among the reasons the administration gave for the eviction was the idea that McGill is a secular institution and therefore not obligated to provide prayer space for any particular group on campus. Presently, a portion of the MSA office within the Shatner Building serves as a “temporary prayer corner.” However, the maximum capacity of the room is around 20 people, and I often have to wait outside as long as 15 minutes to find a spot. Many times, additional prayer services need to be held in order to accommodate all students who want to attend. Moreover, the present prayer space within Shatner is not accessible for prayers when the building is closed. In such circumstances, like other Muslim students, I anxiously search for a spot around campus where I can offer my prayers and connect with my Creator. These spots include places underneath stairways; various locations within the libraries, such as desolate corners and areas between secluded bookshelves; the grounds of Lower Field, weather permitting; and the basements of the McConnell Engineering and Lorne Trottier buildings. However, at these various makeshift praying areas, I cannot offer prayers with any devotion. It is hard to concentrate when there are people walking on the stairs above me, or when someone wants to get a book off the shelf that I happen to be praying next to. Many times, these places are not very clean – and “cleanliness of the place” is one of the prerequisites for prayer in Islam. Prayer involves kneeling and prostration on the floor. Therefore, I always hurry, lest someone should trip over me. Therefore, I am unable to garner any of the spiritual or mental satisfaction that Muslims seek from their daily prayers. For me, praying in such conditions transforms the act of prayer into a mere series of mechanical operations, devoid of any real connection with Allah. Many times, I have delayed or even missed prayers as a result of not being able to find a suitable location. At the end of the day, I lose out on an important tool that would otherwise provide me the strength and courage to deal with various problems (financial, academic, personal, et cetera). Muslim students across the campus share the same experience. My friend Obei El-Kurdy, U2 Mechanical Engineering, pointed out to me, “Praying is really a simple and enriching experience for a Muslim…. However, we need a proper space, as the current one in the Shatner Building is by far inadequate to the Muslim students’ needs.” Omar Balaa, U3 Civil Engineering, another friend, also stresses the importance of having a proper praying space. “Apart from fulfilling my obligations toward my Creator, it would help me focus Sally Lin | The McGill Daily on my studies, enhance my undergraduate experience, and allow me to contribute to the community in a much better way. I would basically be freed from this constant, nagging worry of having to figure out the next praying spot.” In the end, I pray and hope that the administration wakes up and addresses Muslim students’ needs. Campuses across North America have provided accommodation for Muslim students, so I fail to understand why McGill, world-renowned for its rich cultural and ethnic diversity, has to be an exception. Salman Hafeez is a U2 Mechanical Engineering student. Write him at salman.hafeez@mail.mcgill.ca. Burqas, hijabs, niqabs, oh my! Law 94 is veiled identity politics Aristotle’s lackey Sana Saeed I suppose it’s time to address the rather large and noisy elephant floating between the margins of Aristotle’s lackey. Law 94. Just last week, the National Assembly passed a law banning the niqab from such critical public spaces as universities, government offices, daycares, and hospitals receiving government funding. The support for the ban has been strong throughout Canada, with an 80 per cent approval rating according to a survey conducted by Angus Reid. Criticisms have been sparse, coming primarily from an unsure Muslim community, various lawyers, scattered academics, and select university papers. But the general discussion on this matter has just been a mess, with a near complete avoidance of the question of the role of identity in English-speaking Canada. Because this legislation is provin- cial, however, I will limit my discussion to the situation in Quebec. As mentioned briefly in an article last month by Sheetal Pathak (“Muslim women don’t need saving from themselves,” Commentary, March 18), the Canadian Muslim community is itself divided on this issue. Unlike the hijab, there’s no real consensus on the status of the niqab. A small minority see it as an obligation – or at the very least, the superior form of the modesty principle prescribed by Islam. While this debate is legitimate, it’s irrelevant to the issue at hand – the discussion on the matter within the Muslim community needs to move beyond the question of necessity. If there are women who believe it is their religious obligation to wear the niqab while living in North America, then that choice must be respected. The current brouhaha, framed by a reductionist debate on “choice,” grossly undermines women’s agency and completely overlooks the greater context of Law 94 and the persistence of a discourse ultimately not about gender equality, secularism, integration, or identification. It is about identity. And just as identity politics create a limiting framework for political discourse, identity politics can and often do create limiting platforms for legislation and issues regarding minority populations. In Politics of the Veil, Joan Wallach Scott provides a rather thorough survey of the 2004 French ban of “ostentatious” religious symbols – including the hijab – in public spaces. She emphasizes the relationship between France as a former colonial power and its current minority populations, and the consequences of this relationship for the 2004 ban. Scott argues that while France maintained colonial presence in Algeria, the veil came to signify both cultural and violent resistance against imperialism. France’s laïcité (roughly equivalent to secularism) and resistance to accepting the country’s changing reality allow for the unacknowledged persistence of the belief that the veil remains a symbol of cultural and violent resistance to assimilation. Quebec is not France. But like French identity, Quebec identity is built upon a shared linguistic and ethnic heritage as embodied by the historical interactions between church and state. This includes the near-total rejection of Catholicism during the Quiet Revolution. And like France, Quebec has seen a surge in its immigrant population, which challenges a system long sustained by the province’s homogeneity. It is without a doubt understandable that the majority of Quebeckers – outside Montreal especially – would fear the erosion of an identity with a tumultuous past. While this fear is comprehensible, it is not justified, and it certainly should not be the source for any law. With only a few dozen women in the province actually wearing the niqab, how much of a problem does the covering actually cause? France’s proposed ban on the burqa, recently judged unconstitutional by an advisory board, affected only 367 women out of five million Muslims. How necessary is a law for an exception – especially at the expense of appearing hostile to a significant and growing minority? What’s more, where exactly is the line drawn? There remains a strong movement in Quebec, which has at least some minimal support, to ban the adornment of any religious symbols – from kippas to hijabs – in public spaces. When does “reasonable” accommodation become “unreasonable”? Can there be an unreasonable demand if it’s made in the name of identity and ideology? All that being said, there is an often understated obligation upon the Muslim community itself, as with any other ethno-religious group, to sincerely engage with such issues and ask itself what is a “reasonable accommodation” to ask of the state. But this question and its implications are to be addressed and dealt with by the Muslim community itself, as with any other minority group. For many, a law that discriminates against an exception may not be really consequential to the “big picture” in a negative or a positive way. It is, however, crucial that we consider the sort of framework this persistent debate and this particular legislation create for future discussions on matters concerning minorities. But until we get to future debates, I’ll keep rocking the flashy and colourful scarves that my students seem to love. Sana Saeed will write once more in this space before disappearing. Get in touch: aristotles.lackey@ mcgilldaily.com. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Coverage from The McGill Daily Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data PDF Volume 99 Issue 42 Page Number(s) 16 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Burqas, hijabs, niqabs, oh my! Description An account of the resource An article about Bill 94, which banned the niqab from some public spaces in Quebec. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Sana Saeed Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The McGill Daily Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2010/04/01 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Language A language of the resource English Canadian Government colonialism Islam Islamaphobia racism sexism https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/62030/archive/files/7fc258533647a2add19b015c2e6a28ee.pdf?Expires=1787788800&Signature=vsDh%7EgH6FuSeDRWwUXykgRv2-vme7JXgcFRFcOM2QFgGYS7bvAFysNySqbyWxkg7UxG916nrY2M-J9B6LI5-ERAbSuZAbO9IjwyL0AEumj4SLbPIB6s%7E7Ad31CQuDgqei9KL7sFsK27NNGjT7ggfxX56Jp%7E0ID1GJxFecGADWMq%7E00Ja4J%7EnAVV3kEesqIKV3YqbiE5Gm8vZL1C2jzkbtcGeLYSg87zROz7KAyCOauDnZGmk3R%7EO%7EU2eT9AW3Y%7EX92BOdrzjoWPg5-EsZCVSbTqT6R35Zqt7QyeUqgd%7EEGNRluwLXs0ZNhyvjqDEPcrOLXJ3CrqRho%7EaYUoGnNMuhw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 681ebd67e89f70fdafd7c0ff8f8cd9b3 PDF Text Text Commentary The McGill Daily, Thursday, January 14, 2010 7 Bad romance Feminism and women of colour make an unhappy pair Aristotle’s lackey Sana Saeed I nfluenced by seventies empowerment classics, the Spice Girls, and my own experience as a veiled teenager vacillating between homogenous and diverse ethnic communities, the word “Woman” became a defining characteristic of my identity during my middle and high school years. While unaware of all the word’s connotations, I knew from a very young age that to be a woman is beyond breasts, Aunt Flows, and unmentionable monologues. Struggle is inherent to every woman’s life, regardless of her appearance, her location, her age, her past. I believed that to be a woman was not only to experience this struggle, but also to realize it, to embrace it, to fight. To never succumb. The realization of the struggle(s) inherent to my womanhood helped me better formulate a worldview that would eventually bring me to peace with several things that had haunted my thoughts for years. Vanity, glass ceilings, career, ambition, opinions, unorthodox language and choices, and unattainable expectations had all carved out comfortable abodes in my head and I was constantly forced to deal with the issues that arose from their sometimes unwanted and sometimes desired presence. I picked up my first piece of feminist literature at the age of 16. It was your basic introductory work, providing a detailed discussion and analysis of various forms of feminism – as an ideology and as an academic discipline – ranging from radical to ecological. The academic foundation of the activist movement attracted me and eventually led me to take a feminist theory class during my first undergraduate semester. A mixture of an activist fetish, first-year depression, and general intellectual curiosity gently coaxed me into joining a collective of sorts and really exploring the McGill feminist landscape. It was angry, fun, filled with ambiguities. I liked it. It terrified me at times, overwhelmed me, but it was something. Alas, somewhere along the way, the relationship went sour. The passion left. The tensions had always been there, but were ignored for the sake of solidarity. Though always aware of my womanhood, I had never been as sensitive to my ethnic and religious identity as much as I was forced to be upon entering university. New ideas regarding power relations, history, politics, gender, and ethnicity were thrust into my adorable 18-year-old face. I embarked on the sort of spiritual and cultural rejuvenation that seems to come with age and paying tuition. I began to re-explore my Islamic identity while also looking into my heritage, beyond the date of my parents’ migration to North America. And as my awareness of racism and ethnic power dynamics’ pervasive nature increased, the paradox involved in maintaining a capital-F feminist self also increased. I became more and more uncomfortable being associated with Feminism – a feeling fueled largely by how mainstream strands of feminism (including the ever-dominant Radical branch) would treat ethnic identities. Generally speaking, feminism, as a socio-political and intellectual movement, has been dominated by white women, along with a select few white transgendered individuals and white homosexual men. Think that’s a gross exaggeration? Send a letter. There has been very little input in the initial and primary construction of feminist discourse by those outside the aforementioned groups. The “white” history and experience – the meaning and implications of which exceed the scope of this column’s word count – defined, created, and have sustained what we understand feminism to be today, specifically the Liberal and Radical strands. Now many will respond that several types of feminism today have evolved into more inclusive movements that take into consideration that so-called “women of colour” have different experiences than white women as women. And that’s precisely where the problem lies: women of colour. “Women of colour” beautifully illustrates the exact problem I discovered with feminism, as a woman who did not fit the mainstream criteria for being just a Woman. As a “woman of colour,” I am not just a Woman. I am a woman with a little something extra; there is a difference struck between women like me and white women. There is no Woman. There are no Women. There are two groups: women and “women of colour.” This tidily, and unfortunately, translates into the “us” and “them” categorization. Because this distinction is made and has been proudly appropriated by “women of colour” without much criticism, this presumption that the white woman’s identity is a sort of “foundational” identity for all women is prevalent within feminism. As mentioned earlier, feminism was created and has been sustained on a very white – and North American – experience and history. This experience and this history have created the framework within which decades of feminist theory and thought have been constructed. This paradigm was most aptly demonstrated when nonwhite feminists began to critique the very real ethnic power imbalances that existed in the discourse during the sixties and seventies. “Ethnicity,” including also faith and culture, was more or less fitted into the existing framework: the framework that was built on the white woman’s experience with and understanding of patriarchy. There was no real attempt to rethink the intellectual and historical foundations of the movement. Those thinkers, like Angela Y. Davis and bell hooks, who did attempt that reconceptualization, have gone into the shadows of academia, existing as mere footnotes at the end of feminist class syllabuses. So, is the white woman the palette upon which the “colours” of all other women can be found and mixed, used interchangeably to create a beautiful “inclusive” portrait of something which is, in many respects, ugly? If we are all equal, why are some “of colour” while others have the privilege of a much shorter identity label? I strongly believe that much of the feminist analysis on sex, sexual identities, capitalism, beauty, and genil y der deconstruction coma D ill prises a powerful tool, buildcG M he ing ideas that require our con/T r se sideration if we want to change s e M a i our status-quo condition. I am not, v i Ol however, foolish enough to believe in the universal applicability of these ideas here in North America (forget the rest of the world). There is a real void within mainstream feminist discourse that has marginalized the very women whom it has allegedly sought to empower and “save.” Feminism is still very much a white woman’s movement and discipline; it has tokenized women it sees as “of colour” in its attempt to be more inclusive and universal. This is not progress: this is not equality. This is a kinder racism: unintentional, and really a part of an institutionalized mentality and epistemic history, but racism nevertheless. What is required for feminism’s return to relevance is a complete reconsideration and questioning of the foundation it was built upon, one sustained by the white woman’s narrative on patriarchy. This reevaluation can potentially lead toward a more holistic feminism – hopefully rebranded as something for all men, women, and everyone beyond – that is based on an understanding that the experiences of all women with patriarchy vary. All women view and interact with “patriarchy” in different ways and more than lip-service recognition of this fact is required to transform feminism. There should be no saving involved. There should be no brackets. There should not be two categories of women, if it is women about whom we speak. There should be realization, embracement, and battle. There should be real inclusivity – of cultures and ideas. Nothing fitted neatly into the existing crevices and cracks. And there should be just Women. Period. Sana Saeed writes in this space every week. Embrace her at aristotleslackey@mcgilldaily.com. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Coverage from The McGill Daily Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data PDF Volume 99 Issue 25 Page Number(s) 7 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Bad romance Description An account of the resource Article about the relationship between feminism and women of colour. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Sana Saeed Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The McGill Daily Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2010/01/14 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Language A language of the resource English feminism Islamaphobia race racism Sex sexism Student Organizations