In or out?

17 October 2004, 2 Ramadan 1425

The second fast, and the second iftaar that I have spent at home. That’s something of an achievement.

More than a week before Ramadan had begun, I had already received invitations for iftaar. I had even received two invitations from people who had insisted that I (and my kids) must go over for iftaar every day.

Now such invitations are very honouring and anyone would feel thrilled to know that s/he is loved and/or cared for that much. It’s great and I appreciate them very much. And I like taking up these invitations – sometimes. They are a good opportunity to socialise, they allow me to reciprocate and, of course, it means another day that I don’t have to rush around after work like a crazy person trying to get together an iftaar that my quite-fussy sons will be happy with.

But I do have two problems. One is a practical one: my anti-social sons don’t like to eat at (or even visit) other people’s homes. In Ramadan they accept it as part of the Ramadan spirit but still make it clear (to me only, thank Allah) that they would much rather eat at home.

My second problem is that I have this strange feeling that some of these invitations is by virtue of my being a single parent. But more, only by virtue of my being a single father. I have no empirical evidence to back up my suspicion, but I suspect that if I were a single mother I would not receive as many invitations.

Unfortunately, this is how it is in our world. Women, as we all know, are supposed to be good at this cooking-and-raising-children thing. So they don’t need any help. But men, poor men, they need all the help they can get. Of course, after this statement I could start whining about how we men are underestimated and stereotyped as incompetent care-givers and home- makers. But that would be foolish. This issue is not about men at all; it’s about women.

It’s about the notion that fulfilling these tasks is actually the woman’s job and, really, she should have learnt how to do it. (Or, even if she hasn’t learnt, she should just be able to do it. After all, Allah must have taught her, right?) She shouldn’t need anyone to help her. She was born a woman and that means having babies, raising them, cooking, cleaning house, etc. What’s wrong with her that we should invite her for iftaar every so often. Maybe once in a while – just to fulfil our neighbourly duties. But there’s no need for more than that, is there? Now a single father, on the other hand… Poor guy. He shouldn’t be expected to do women’s work. How does he manage? And it’s bad enough he has to do all this stuff the whole year round. But at least in Ramadan he deserves a break.

And this attitude affects not just whether and who gets invited for iftaar, but it affects much more profoundly how we live our lives. As I type these words I remember a quote that, for a long while, was appended to the end of posts to the Network of Progressive Muslims mailing list:

‘In order that we believing men and believing women, God-conscious men and God-conscious women, can reclaim our full humanity, reclaim our Islam, we need to revolutionise our categories of maleness and femaleness. We must reject the idea of uncontrollable male sexuality and evil women.’

It is these ‘categories of maleness and femaleness’ that are problematic. I recall how, in some communities in South Africa, after long battles ensured that there was space available for women at the ‘Id salah, many women refused to go. Not because they did not want to, they just couldn’t. They had to ensure that the ‘Id meal was ready for when ‘the men’ returned from salah. The only way to ensure that they would be able to attend the salah would be to ‘revolutionise’ our understanding of what it means to be a Muslim woman and what it means to be a Muslim man. The only way they would be able to attend is if the men also took responsibility for preparing the meal so that it was ready for when ‘the Muslims’ returned from salah.

Of course, my feeling of being privileged as a single (and widowed) man (as compared to a single and widowed woman) is not limited to issues of food and prayer but includes a whole range of other issues. But, those will have to be left for another time. It’s past midnight and I need to get my three- and-half hours of sleep before suhur, fajr, another media interview, meeting students, rushing off to meet officials from our Department of Foreign Affairs (trying to convince them to cancel Ehud Olmert’s trip), more students and preparing another iftaar (if, that is, I don’t get invited out).

ps: For all those who have invited me for iftaar or are planning to invite me: I love to have iftaar with you! Please don’t stop the invitations.

pps: The quote above, in case you are wondering: my wife, Shamima Shaikh. May she be basking in His Eternal Beauty.