An Open Letter to Luqman

Luqman:

You might find it odd that I am writing to you on this platform in front of 100s of people from all over the world. For our purposes, may we consider this letter the equivalent of someone wanting to scream to the world they love someone. Don't worry, this isn't a letter where I profess my love and ask you to leave your husband for me. I am no home-wrecker, and I'd probably try it with Ryan Gosling first just in case. Be happy, you are second best choice! 

Don't worry I won't tell the world that we both adore Twilight secretly and sometimes have intense discussions to determine if Jacob's perfect abs can indeed make up for Edward's eternal romance? Or how we attempt to focus on our similarities rather than our differences (i.e. Adele). Let's not go there, shall we?

I am writing to you today because your interview here touched me so. I admire your faith, persistence and determination to find your Truth. As you shared, another human decided your interest in Islam was invalid due to your lifestyle. I know you might feel rejected by the Muslim community which you ever so wish to join.

It hurts to think that someone had the guts to speak on behalf of God and reject you. If I could return in time to undo these memories, I would. But here we are. 

God is beautiful. I know we discussed this privately, but I would like reiteriate: when we have that incessant urge to worship, to remember, to feel God, it's because He wants you. Call them hints, reminders or love nudges. 

I do think everything happens for a reason. I do agree with you that God put you in my path for a reason. Your strength; your beautiful relationship with your husband; and your open heart have inspired me to continue my own personal journey to the truth. 

I know you are forgoing Christmas presents this year to visit a sick friend after the holidays. So, with this letter, I would like to offer you a small early Christmas gift: 

Luqman, myself and the following Muslims below would like to welcome you to our faith with open arms IF your journey was to ever direct you back to us. We love and accept you for who you are and pray that God accepts us too. 

Peace and blessings,

Your Muslim Family (80 and counting) 


Cindy A. 
Yosra Said 
Urooba Jamal 
Ginger Davis
Mennah 
Nora E. 
Amirah Shourbaji 
Amber Majid
Khadeeja Afreen 
A'ishah Hils 
Rowan Y. 
Fatima Abbas 
Sara Mohamed 
Hamza Dawud Flanagan 
Noor N. 
Salman Merchant 
Yasmine Abdul 
Arabsest
Nader
AbdulRahman J.A. 
Karim A. 
Ahmed Samir  
Metis
Amie Bashir
Adam M.
Sara
Mohamed Kamel 
Aliaa Amer 
Reem
Pierina Rosa
Zainab Bint Younes 
Sara D. 
Ali Asim 
Angy E.
Aaliya K. 
Chris
Saif Quadri 
Nour_
Khadija 
Raquel E. Saraswati 
Khadijah Bassier
Nihad Niloufer
Nakia J.
Riven Vincent
Ayah M.
SafiyaOutlines 
Shawna Ayoub Ainslie 
Ibtisam
Adilah A.  
Mahmoud M. 
Youssef Abdelgawad 
Roberta D. 
Sara L. Horton 
K.A. 
Mohammed Irufan 
Rachid 

Shireen Somji 

Haris

Tim Swan

Katrina Daly Thompson

Fawzia Rouabhi 

T
Lubna A. 
Hibaq Osman
Safiyyah
Fatemah Fakhraie
Rechem
Leila l'Oranaise
Sabra B.
Vaness Fatima 
Sarah Al Kiyumi 
Mohammad Zaman 
Autumn M.
Hind Kasem
Farshiya Shafeeq 
Azlin 
Sabirah M.  

Nadiah Mohajir
Jennifer
Dina Ibrahim

**
Response from Imam Suhaib Webb:

(If you would like to sign this letter to welcome Luqman to the Muslim community, please use the comment section to sign your name and I'll reflect it on this letter).

Finding a Voice: LGBTIQ Muslims Speak (Part 1)

In the following page you will find 6 interviews with Muslims/potential Muslims who identify as homosexual/bisexual. Although traditionally - throughout Islamic history - Muslims with homoerotic desires and practices have had to keep a low profile or employ a "don't ask, don't tell" prerogative. Muslim homosexuals and bisexuals exist and have for centuries. There is also evidence of such relationships embedded within Islamic literature and poetry.

This post will not serve as justification for arguments either way. Although for many mainstream Muslims the argument is clear and there should be no further discussion, I believe it's important we note that not ALL Muslims feel the same way about the discourse around homosexuality and bisexuality in Islam.

One of my future goals is to informally research the history of homosexuality in Islam. In the time being, here are the resources I would use when I begin my research:

• Homosexuality in Islam by Scott Kugle
• Sexual Ethics and Islam by Kecia Ali (Chapter 5)
• Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World 1500-1800 by Khaled El-Rouahyeb
• Imaan LGBTIQ Muslim Support Group (London)
• Islamic Homosexualities: Culture, History and Literature by Will Roscoe and Stephen Murray
• Homosexuality and Islam by Hephaestus Books
• Short documentary on LGBT Iraqis, Gay MiddleEast Project
• Coming Out Twice: Sexuality and Gender in Islam 
• Daayiee Abdullah: Being Out And Being Muslim 
• Islam and Homosexuality by Samar Habib
• Allah, Liberty and Love by Irshad Manji 
• Gay Muslim Scholar Shunned by the Faithful 
• Female Homosexuality in the Middle East by Samar Habib 
• A Jihad for Love: First lengthy Documentary to explore Islam and homosexuality in 12 different countries by Parvez Sharma 
• Arabo-Islamic Text on Female Homosexuality (850-1780 AD) by Samar Habib
• Top Secret: Sexual Guidance for Married Couples by Wedad Lootah 
• Eye on Gay Muslims
• Resources for LGBTIQ Muslims and Allies 
• Battling for Gay Rights, in Allah's Name by Karl Huus
• LGBT Muslim Retreat (scheduled for summer 2012) 
• Muslim LGBT Inclusion Project, a report by Intersections International
• Pink Crescents: Being Gay and Muslim 
• Eid: Being LGBT and Muslim by El-Farouk Khaki 
• Salaam Queer Muslim Community 
• Al-Fatiha Foundation 
• Youtube Diaries of a Gay Pakistani Shia Muslim 
• A Gay Marriage in Ireland Causes a Stir 

The purpose of this post is as follows:

1) Humanize Muslim LGBTIQ 

2) Refute claims they don't exist

3) Demonstrate that LGBTIQ Muslims are INDEED Muslim and there are no contradictions [sexual orientation doesn't affect one's religious identity]

4) Support Muslims confused about their sexual orientation and offer them resources and a safe online community for support.

*Comments are moderated for this post. The author of this blog reserves the right to delete comments that are derogatory, threatening or offensive in nature. 
*The content of the interviews do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the author of this blog 


Interviews can be found here. 

The Angelic Curse: Marital Rape

A true story. 

Her husband went to bed, yet she lay awake trying hard not to think of what just happened. What he did - or rather didn't. She wondered how many Angels cursed her as she hugged herself feeling like she had no one but God on her side. Yet, was He? After all, she was a bad wife for rejecting her husband's sexual advances. 

Tonight her husband, her abuser, her so-called protector had changed the meaning of intimacy forever. It was a God-given right; it was her obligation even if she didn't consent. She was sleeping soundly when she felt his weight on her. He refused to listen to her pleads. Her cries for him to stop. He repeated: "You are mine, you are mine."

She laid in bed all alone. Used. Would crying undo what it was done? Her husband patted her arm and told her to go to sleep. He collapsed next to her with exhaustion. 

She held her breath. She wished she could have the courage to hold it forever. She silently cried in the dark. Taking deep and silent breaths so her rapist wouldn't wake up to her desperate cries. 

Tonight he forced himself on her. She had to oblige or the Angels would have cursed her. She cried the entire time, he ignored her or did he laugh? It was all about him tonight - the all powerful man. 

Her life felt like death, was this her eternal punishment?

As she covered her exposed flesh she thought of every Angel that cursed at her and wished she had the power to curse them back.

**

Marital rape is real. 

Innocence Stolen: A Young Woman's Story

I pulled up to the dark grey building and waited for her to appear. They didn't give me a name or the reason we were making the trip. My job today was to deliver her safely to the address provided no questions asked.

She startled me. A beautiful young girl - no older than eighteen - appeared at my window. She wasn't smiling; she looked rather tense. I sensed her hesitation to enter my car so I assured her that I was a friend of her "contact." She was safe to ride with me. To break the ice I complimented her beautiful traditional dress; she shyly looked away and stared out the window. This was an assignment from the women's organization I volunteered for.

The car ride to our destination was quiet. It didn't help that we didn't have a language in common. We did however laugh at my horrible parallel parking skills. It's tough to find good parking in the city.

As I will learn, our destination was the county hospital.

I wasn't sure why I was chosen for this assignment. I couldn't be her interpreter, I was useless. But I trusted my coordinator's decision and went with it. As we approached the receptionist we were ushered to the special 6th floor. The nurse greeted us warmly. We waited in silence and I avoided looking in her direction.

And finally the doctor called us in. I gestured that I would wait for her outside and will be here when she's done. She shook her head and protested "Noooooo!"

She took me by my hand and insisted I stay. I had no choice, so I obliged. We entered into the examining room where there were an unusual number of staff members present. I became suspicious. Why are all these people here? Why am I here?

There was an interpreter present in the room with us. The doctor spoke to the young girl slowly and softly. And the interpreter delivered what he said word for word.

Doctor: "We reviewed your lab work, and you are not HIV positive. The results came negative."

The interpreter and the girl started hugging and jumping with joy. The young girl ran up to me and embraced me so hard. I was still recovering from the shock. My body shivered. I had no idea.

I felt privileged she trusted me to hear her verdict, her fate.

I would learn later that I was chosen because I came from a different ethnic background. Women who sought assistance with the organization didn't want to be identified and shamed within their own communities. The young teen was raped by a close relative in her country. When she came to America, she was urged to get checked, but she surely couldn't do it with the knowledge of her family who deny that the assault ever took place.

The brave young girl contacted our organization for help. If word went out to her community that she got tested for HIV, she would be an outcast never allowed to marry or live a normal life.

I can still remember her face when I dropped her off at her house. She was beaming with light. It was almost like a rebirth, a second chance to live. I never saw her again, but the memory of her and her experience are engraved within. I pray that every victim will have the courage to fight back and strip themselves of the title: victim.

A True Story, 2006. 

Date Rape: A Victim's Story

Below is an account of a traumatic event that occurred to friend. Let's put an end to violence against women by speaking up without shame! I want to thank my friend for her beautiful courage for coming forward. Peace. 

**

by Anonymous. 

My freshman year wa­­s by far­ a challenging one: I was date raped by a very close friend of mine. 

In September, I met Yusuf in class. He was a great friend and we would hang out and laugh a lot. He had had a great soul and cared about the world. We had our philosophical conversations about life, religion, politics, and the world for hours at a time. One day in April, Yusuf asked if I would have lunch with him. Our date was casual; afterwards he asked if I wanted to go to his place. I didn’t think too much of it, I had been to his apartment before and it had been completely innocent. He lived alone. I should have seen the signs. In retrospect it’s all so clear. But I was blinded by my trust in him.

Instead of protecting myself, I walked into the lion’s den. Vulnerable. He got onto his bed, and I distanced myself sitting at his chair. Our friendship was strictly platonic so I didn’t think too much of it. After a while, he asked me to join him on the bed. Because I trusted him, I got on his bed, and we talked for a long time. And then he was kissing me. I told him I was not comfortable kissing him. “Relax Fatima, we’re just having fun,” he repeated, on and on. Kissing him was already pushing my boundaries; I wasn’t okay with it. Then he started groping me, and touching me, and I was so uncomfortable.

Before I knew what was happening, both our pants were off.

I tried to talk him out of it, told him I wasn’t comfortable, told him I wasn’t ready for sex with him and all the consequences it would bring. He told me that it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just fun, but I kept repeating, “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. No. No. No. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t”. But instead of hearing my pleading, he pressed himself into me. I whispered, “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” Then I just shut down, completely blocked out the world. My response to this traumatic, terrible thing was to turn myself off instead of fighting or fleeing.

I stared at the flag of Saudi Arabia the entire duration of it, at the shahada, the foundation of Islam, There is no God but God and Muhammad (saw) is the last Prophet.

Afterwards, he asked if I was okay, and I said, “Yusuf, did I ever say yes to you?” His response I will never forget. “No, but you silently consented”. I wasn’t okay with that answer. I looked at him and shrugged. He said, “Do you really think I raped you? How could you ever think I would do that to you?” I didn’t have words. I was confused. Was I just imaging it? Making a big deal of a casual college sexual experience?

Nothing made any sense after that. I went home and lay in bed feeling dirty and confused. I felt so alone. I kept the TV on – blaring -the silence was too loud. I took close to 40 showers in two days. I just never felt clean enough. I began telling close friends, a few didn’t believe me because they knew him, and didn’t think he was capable of such an atrocious act. I felt like my life had fallen apart, almost as if someone had unraveled the thread of my sanity. The rest of the semester went by in a haze. I’m not sure how I woke up each day, how I got ready, how I went about the most basic things.

That summer went by and each day I couldn’t force myself out of bed. I would sleep all day, and genuinely considered suicide. But I realized that I had too much to live for. This couldn’t be the darkest point of my life, and if it was, there was only one place to go from there: up. In the fall, I surrounded myself with amazing people at my new job. One of my advisors changed my life. She gave me the reigns to my life back; she helped me realize that it wasn’t my fault, and that I would be okay again. My biggest hurt was that it was a betrayal from such a good friend. He was kind, and genuine. He helped orphans, graduated Cum Laude. He wanted to change the world. He wanted to make a difference.

It’s been a year and a half and I still see him from time to time, and I feel like everything I’ve worked so hard to be, comes tumbling down around me again when I do. I had to start over from scratch because of this. I had to rebuild my life and my foundations. I lost my sanity, stability, and I had to fight to regain it. I never took legal action and I don’t regret that decision, but I know that karma overcomes all. I’ve thought time and time again what I would say to him if I was given an honest chance, but in some ways, it’s okay that it happened. If it had to happen, I’m grateful that it did the way it did. I love the person I am now, I have so much strength of character, I’m passionate and I’m courageous. Everything I’m not made me everything I am.

**

Disclaimer: the author of the blog reserves the right to delete comments that are demeaning or offensive in nature.