Eid ul Adha, the Feast of the Sacrifice, was celebrated on Friday, November 27th. It is a time to reflect on the willingness to give up what we prize the most. It is also a wonderful opportunity to come together with Muslims at the special prayer, or it should be. Eid was wonderful but the prayer experience was not. Once again, I found myself in the basement. While I will no longer attend jummahs in segregated environments, the Eid prayers continue to hold a special place in my heart. Feeling this way, I once again set off with some wonderful friends for the prayer. I was surprised how much I was affected by the segregation. In short, it hurt to be sitting in a basement trying to follow the prayer by watching a grainy picture of the Imam in the main/male hall. It felt as if I was not included in the "real" prayer. My presence was not important and certainly not worthy of celebration.
I believe, I witnessed again the price of segregation. This masjid had been built new, but the architecture showed that women were an afterthought. We enter from the back.
Recently, I listened while someone assured a brother that segregation of the sexes did not imply subordination or discrimination against women. I laughed and thought that's how a moderate segregationist would have responded to questions about separate drinking fountains and public accommodations--it's not an indication that we feel blacks are inferior to whites, it's tradition.
I can't imagine trying to connect to something very important to my heart from a location I didn't want to be. I just imagined what it be like to stay in the front office of the yoga studio by the shoes and watch the person who leads my meditation group from a monitor. I'm not familiar with the reasons for wanting to keep men and women separate, but isn't there a way to honor this with some compromise?
ReplyDeleteIn my perfect problem-solving world, I would either transform the mosque so everyone would have somewhere nice to be, or I would have a rotating schedule. Every other week, men are in the basement and the women are upstairs.
As a woman of color, I am used to people telling me (overtly or not) what I can't or shouldn't have. Getting this treatment from the community in which I'm supposed to seek refuge would break my heart (not to mention piss me off).
I applaud you for being vocal about this. I hope it results in some change.