BY: Usma Hosain, Senior at The Bryn Mawr School
The
latter half of 2014 was a busy time for global events and happenings. Not only
was the Gaza-Israel conflict appearing everywhere, but the execution videos released by ISIS were dominating headlines. Topping all of this off was the
coverage done on the behalf of media, tarnishing and slandering Islam as a
religion and muslims as a population.
In
late September, I was watching CNN, eager to hear about the conflicts filling
the world and praying it would have nothing to do with muslims. My heart
dropped, however, as I read the headline posted on the screen. “Does Islam
promote violence?” I felt tears fill my eyes and the lump in my throat made
itself known. The screen flashed and changed to two news anchors interviewing
one of my favorite authors and scholars of religion, Reza Aslan. As I listened
to Aslan critique the remarks of Bill Maher regarding muslims, one of the
anchors interrupted him and brought up an aspect of Islam I had never heard of;
the reason being that it doesn’t exist. She questioned why Islam is so
misogynistic towards women. I could hear my heart pounding and all of a sudden,
I couldn’t hear the interview anymore.
Thoughts were running through my
head faster than I could process. Words regarding muslims that I had heard
throughout the years flashed through my head. ISIS, Al-Qaeda, jihadist,
terrorist, monster, murderer, and more. I fixated on one, however: “jihadist.”
Alongside all these events, I had been writing college essays and I had used
jihad in one of them. I looked up the dictionary definition, wanting to verify
I was using it correctly in terms of how people hear it today. Yet again, I was
let down. The dictionary definition is as follows:
ji•had noun \ji-'häd, chiefly British, -'had\
"a war fought by muslims to defend or spread their
beliefs"
1. a holy war waged on behalf of Islam as a religious duty; also
a personal struggle in devotion to Islam especially involving spiritual
discipline
2. a crusade for a principle or a belief
The
definition provided by not only Merriam-Webster but also the Oxford English
Dictionary (slightly varied) puts muslims and Islam in a light that is less
than tasteful. Although the second definition is closest to the original,
deriving from Arabic, the former is less than accurate. I consulted my
Arabic-English dictionary that I had purchased for school. Among the hundreds
of definitions listed, ‘a holy war’ did appear, however, there was nothing to
suggest it had anything to do with Islam. In fact, in the Qu’ran, it is written
that those who wage war on behalf of Islam are not true muslims. After emailing
and exchanging several correspondences with the editors of Merriam-Webster, my
concerns with their inaccurate definition were politely dismissed. And so, I
set out to right the wrongs that I had seen. I started to write a petition to
have the definition changed.
I’m not sure what I expected to happen, nor am I sure I had any
expectations. I knew that if I could draw enough attention to the issue, even
in the case that it did not get changed, I would have done my part. Be it one
person or one hundred that read it, I would know that I tried, and I did change
the way some people viewed my religion and my culture. I did not, however,
expect that this project would take as long as it has.
More often than not, we are much too eager to put people into a
box based on what we can see. More often than not, we blindly follow and agree
with what the media says, not taking into account that the information they
provide may not be the full story. More often than not, we do nothing to speak
up, for it is easier to maintain silence than break it. Of course, as I grew
older, I came to understand this, but it was not until I began writing the
petition that my heart swelled with pride and I embraced my identity. Until
that moment, I had not found the courage to break the silence.
My
journey, however, does not end here. Over the months that I’ve been doing
research and emailing scholars of Islam, I have been envisioning my future. I
know that as a woman in politics, I will come to face many hurdles. There will
be days when I want to give up. There will be days when I feel my effort is
wasted and I am making no difference at all. I will, however, have days when I
take pride in having the courage to undertake such a huge project at the age of
17. I will have days when I know that I may be inspiring other people to speak
up for their beliefs. I will have days when I feel I have started a movement, for
a movement starts not with thousands of people but one person, courageous,
willing, and brave enough to begin.
They
say women in politics is a bad idea because we’re so hormonal. They say we’re
too emotional to make sound decisions and keep in mind what matters. They say
women can’t do it on account of their gender. I beg to differ. Women have been
the unsung heroes of the world for hundreds of years. In the absence of men,
instead of shying away, women stepped up to the plate, ready and willing to
help with anything and everything.
I
suppose my education at an all girls’ school for 13 years has shaped me into what
some would call a die-hard feminist. Some may say my views on women in politics
makes me a radical feminist. Some may say that my hopes, goals, and aspirations
for my petition are far too ambitious. I, however, refuse to back down. I
refuse to walk away from a cause I feel so passionately about. I refuse to
silence the voice I was given.
My
name is Usma Hosain. I’m a 17 year old first generation American from
Baltimore, MD. I am a feminist and I am an advocate for what is right. Above
all, I am and always will be proud to be a Muslim.
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