Micah's Wonder Shack

Last post I spoke about healing and socialising. In that post, I promised a follw-up on wearing my tunics, which are long t-shirt-like dresses that cover the body from the torso to above the heels. Personal benefits is that they cover the chest, butt, and crotch area which I would consider 'modest'. Qu'ranically Allah challenges us to be modest, cover our privates and breasts and to lower our gaze, especially for people who don't have the means to.

Since that post last month, I've continued to socalise and try to get out. But my enthusiasm has somewhat dissipated. This could be due in part to seasonal depression, however, spaces that I once considered home have now become alien to me.

In the book "Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny", Amartya Sen argues that when discussion people and their behaviours we must consider which identities are factoring into their descisions, and also which identities are being focused on by the media. When I am engaging with the world, there are two key identities in action at any given time; my Islamic identity and my trans identity. These two key identities factor into almost everything I do. From how I introduce myself, "Salaam I'm Micah and I use they/them pronouns", to what I buy when shopping. There are other identities which sometimes factor into my decision-making, such as my disability identity. We, as people, are fundementally made up of lots of small and big identities which form how we engage with the world.

However, since that post last month, I've become keenly aware of one important thing; these two vital identities are, culturally, at odds with one another. That's not to say people with Islamic identities are transphobic and those who have trans identities are Islamophobic. But something has significantly changed in queer spaces since I converted. Hence, this will be the focus of this entry.

LGBT people have had a fraught relationship with religious fundementalism and dogma which bigots use to justify their bigotry. By appealing to authority, these people can immediately 'claim' the moral high-ground and use ignorant interpretations of religious texts to justify those views. Only recently in the UK, a fundementalist Christian group has started courting politicians to vote against upcoming laws that would make conversion therapy illegal in all forms.

I grew up around queer spaces, since I was a teen in college and looking to explore myself. A LGBT social group in the town I grew up in was, in fact, the first place that I met a non-binary person. It was a fun time, and a fun relief from other troubles going on in my life at that time. Ever since then, I've basically never left queer spaces.

Except during the COVID lockdowns of 2019-2021. During these times, there was no queer spaces locally so I extended my reach to some online spaces. During this time, I also converted to Islam and became a Muslim, then I started to wear hijab and change how I presented myself. Finally, spaces started to re-open and I looked for some local places in the area I had moved to.

Here is where the issues started. Immediately, I started to get questions about my dress and my religion. This isn't bad in and of itself, curiosity is good and I can happily talk about Islam for a good while. However, it quickly became apparent to me how these questions weren't really curiousity per-say. They were more an interrogation of my character, and questioning my queerness.

In the media, Muslims are typically portrayed as homophobic, women's rights suppressing and violent people, whose women are secretly oppressed. There are some examples that run counter to this, such as the brilliant We Are Ladyparts, but typically this is the narrative media runs with. Within queer circles, it's not uncommon to find at least someone who has a religious relative who is openly queerphobic - in one way or another. Very little attention is paid to the plight of actual queer Muslims, when I have seen them come up in the mainstream discussion is only when their queer identity is caused them prosecution by Islamist fundementalists, such as in Afghanistan.

It seems, the Muslim identity and the queer identity cannot co-exist in mainstream thought, which includes queer thought. Which explains some of the most questionable things said to me thus far. Most troublesomely, something at a protest I attended against the BBC for its continued transphobic rhetoric. Afterwards, I went to get a bite to eat with some people who also attended. There was an issue with my order and my Muslim identiy became a subject for hot debate.

Mainly, justifying how queer people can exist under Islam. With someone who is not a Muslim leading the discussion and dismissing all I had to say on it. Fundementally, [queer] Muslims do not need non-Muslims weighing in on this. Muslims are capable of having this disussion by ourselves, and have been for some time. There exist a history of queer Muslims since the birth of Islam. However with the non-Muslim saviour trying to control the narrative, and repeating a lot of established queerphobic rhetoric in the process, this discussion cannot happen.

Currently, I find myself between cultures and communities. Both have significant problems. And both think the other is out to destroy them. There exists some connecting tissue between these polarized views, some queer Muslim spaces, though they are few and far between, usually being housed within feminist-led Muslim places. As for now, I struggle to find where I belong in these spaces and I have to explore at length, the shortcomings in spaces that I used to call home who are now wanting to distance themselves from me.