Displaced on Jum'uah in Glasgow

After my Photography class at the Glasgow School of Art, I went to hunt down the masjid I had looked up on Google maps. It was closest to the City Center. Got lost a couple of times when I got on the wrong streets and finally when pedestrians were not helpful either, I decided to study the map and find my way around. I knew I was late for jum'uah but still wanted to go ahead because I wanted to benefit from the barakah (blessing) of a masjid. As I moved closer, I saw brothers trickling from a street and knew that I was in the right direction. I was already catching unwanted attention looks because a Muslim woman on a bike did not quite go together. Hence, to avoid more attention, I got off it and walked in the direction of the masjid.

As I stood across from the main entrance, there flood of Muslim men outpoured the masjid but to my astonishment, not a single woman was in sight. I was confused. I went up and asked a middle-aged "uncle" whether there was a place for women in there. He told me there wasn't but he would still go inside to make sure.

I began, "Oh leave it! I don't want to go inside amidst so many brothers anyways..." and before I could finish my sentence, he disappeared in the crowd. I uneasily waited there, wanting to run away since I was the only woman (an odd and misplaced piece of a puzzle not to mention a hijabi with a bicycle) among more than a couple of hundred men.

He returned after a while and apologized that there was no space for me to pray inside. He handed me me a small pieces of paper which said Muslim House 16. He told me it was really close and despite my refusal, convinced me to walk with him to the Muslim House. Apparently it was a musalla at someone's home but when no one answered, he told me about an Islamic school where they had a place for the sisters. I obviously looked very annoyed!

He stopped in his footsteps and turned towards me, and said, "You know a lot of jurists believe that women don't need to have a space for jum'uah?"
"In America almost all masajid have a place for women...."
He looked me in the eye and asked, "Where are you from?"
"Pakistan. But I live in the US."
"Well. A lot of Pakistanis believe that women don't need to be in the masjid for jum'uah."
"I agree that it's not obligatory for women to pray in the masjid but at least they should have the option to pray (especially in the West)."

I was dejected but we both couldn't make ourselves continue the conversation anymore. He was determined to walk me to the Islamic school and while we J-walked the streets like we would have if I was still in Pakistan, I realized I had to stay with him if I wanted to pray dhuhr on time. I followed him along with my bike and we finally arrived to a building that had posters of women plastered at its main entrance. SubhanAllah! It looked more like a beauty parlor from Pakistan and NOT an Islamic school. He walked me through a narrow door that led to a flight of stairs. I locked my bike to one of the railings at the bottom of the staircase and followed him along upstairs.

As soon as I entered the musalla, and the jama'a (congregational prayer) literally ended at that very moment. The sisters and brothers soon vacated the area and while I prayed dhuhr, I could hear the faint humming of a brother's recitation from the men's side.

While I stood up to offer my two sunnahs, a brother walked in and inquired if I was done. I told him I wasn't but would leave if he had to close the place. He shook his head and instead told me that someone outside wanted to see me. I walked outside the prayer space with my arms folded on my chest (my belt strapped top was not really appropriate for a masjid setting) and saw the uncle who had walked me to the school. He handed me a small piece of paper with the address of the school and told me that I was free to come there and pray jum'uah whenever I wanted to. I nodded my head in acknowledgement and as I turned to go back and finish my prayer, I asked him for a copy of the Qur'an. He rushed inside a room and brought me back a copy. He flipped through the pages and asked me if it was one I was comfortable and and without even bothering to look inside, I thanked him and went back to my recluse of prayer.

Once I was finished, I had an unexpected emotional outburst. After I finished reciting Surah Al-Kahf,  I immensely began missing Imam Basyouni's recitation and beat myself for not taking out to hear him over Christmas while I was back in Boston. I recalled the night of  27th of Ramadan when thousands of Muslims sobbed with him while he made the Dua Khatm-al-Quran (prayer upon finishing the Quran) even though 80% of us at the masjid probably not even understand a word. However, ALL OF US, literally ALL OF US sobbed together in unison while Imam Basyouni prayed.

After collecting myself, I packed my stuff and on my way out handed the Quran back to the brother who had first fetched me from the prayer area. He smiled and told me that I should come back again. I told him I appreciated that and while I was about to walk out of the exit, I started fumbling through the leaflets and brochures lying at one of the side tables. Most of them were not interesting but one poster of on the wall particularly caught my my attention. 

It was an excerpt of Shaykh Hamza Yusuf's words about his story of becoming Muslim. To my surprise, I realized that I had actually never dug his journey into Islam. It was inspiration to finally find out that he had first discovered a a lone copy of Quran lying at the bottom of the shelf in a local bookstore. He picked it up thinking that Islam was one religion he knew nothing about and after reading Surah Maryam he entered Islam within a week! His narration of his trip to a Moroccan desert and the woman's dream of seeing a white man with a black turban the night before she met him brought tears to my eyes and I walked out of the masjid in pure awe how God guides people in the most unexpected ways. As I biked back, I had the opportunity to gather my thoughts which I can finally share in the above mentioned context.

I understand that it's recommended for men to pray in the masajid and they have anobligation to pray in them on jum'uah and women don't, but the Muslim community cannot keep its eyes shut from the fact that there are Muslim women who are studying and working along with men. The same way as men have the obligation to establish their five daily prayers, we have the same obligation too. Yes, according to some I am even "sinful" by stepping out of our confinements of my home (I am probably the worst example by being in a foreign country without a mahram) but this is our reality NOW. When Muslim men are OK with studying alongside women in educational institutes or working with them in shared workspaces, then why are they not OK with praying with us at the masajid? They don't have to share the floor with us; a separate space would still be something!

Hailing from Pakistan, a Muslim country, I recognize how tough a job it is for women to make their salah on time if they are outdoors. Men can always walk in a masjid and pray while we women are left at the mercy of random placed like shop basements and pavements with that constant fear of being harassed lurking at them. I appreciate the interpretations of the Hanafi madhab follow some of its fiqh regulations personally, but some ijtihad and ijmaa are desperately needed in our communities ESPECIALLY in the West where our only support system and solid foundations are the Houses of God.

We, the Muslim women, need a share of the Islamic community and the suhba (company) of the righteous too. Maybe you won't understand brothers, but it's actually harder being a Muslim woman in the West than you can probably imagine.