Τό γυναικεῖον τῆς Ὑπατίας - An Áit Bhanda na Hypatia - Hypatia's Gynaeceum

Misafirim bu dünyada,
misafir ve yabancıyım.

I am a traveler in this world,
a traveler and a stranger.
--Marian Kazi


I don't fit in with this world
I have never fit in anywhere.
That has fucked up things in my life
a lot.

My way, my hope, perhaps the excuse for my existence
has been to go through it graciously.

Giving thanks for all the blessings I've had...
flashes of deeper awareness, spirit rising in my chest, moments of inner peace
traveling alone on a dark and treacherous ridge toward an uncertain destiny...

Whatever; let me face it with good grace.
I guess good grace can be its own reward.

One day I will be finished and gone.
But if I manage to circulate some good grace while I'm alive...
it might keep on circulating?
Working hard here to find possibilities of hope rising above the heavy gloom.

Something in my spirit keeps rising.
Keeps getting up when it's been knocked down.
Something good at heart that just won't quit.

Something that didn't want me to end this text
until I'd worked it in.

When I think about how to understand my racial identity, it gets so complicated as to defy definition.

According to the U.S. Department of Labor, I'm classified as "white," because they define that category to include people from North Africa and the Middle East. As a Sicilian, I look to my North African Berber and Arab heritage as much as I do to the European side. My father's skin is so dark that I'm not sure how he passes as white. But he and the others in my family look unhappy when I point out to them their African ancestry. Like in Do the Right Thing or True Romance.

One hundred years ago, Sicilians in America were classified as nonwhite. At some point (probably after the United States allied with Italy in World War I) they decided to have us be white. I didn't get the memo.

My Afghan and Iranian friends (who are descended from the real Aryans) identify as "women of color." Their color is the same as mine. I'm not officially a woman of color, but in my de facto life experience, I don't pass perfectly as white. I mean white in terms of the social conventions around here.

On paper at the Department of Labor, Arabs are listed as "white." But to white Americans in real life, Arabs are The Other with menacing chords played every time they come on. Skin color has played no part in how Arab peoples have defined Arabness. The result is that the whole range of skin colors, in infinite gradations, from European white to African black, occurs among the Arab ethnic population. There is no one Arab skin color (though some shade of brown or olive is typical, especially in the Arab heartlands). The absence of a defining color bar must be upsetting to a racist society like white America, where the color bar was all-important in structuring American society.

With my swarthy Mediterranean olive complexion and my Arab-looking nose, people almost always assume I'm an immigrant from the Middle East. I've been asked if I speak English. I've been scolded by an angry bigot that "you people" are ruining everything, as he told me to go back to the Middle East where I came from.

It isn't so cut-and-dried that I'm automatically "white" in America. The default when it comes to beauty advice is blond-haired and blue-eyed. So I never thought makeup advice in general was very useful to me until I found the book Latina Beauty, which finally gave women of my color relevant information. One thing I learned from this book is a survey of makeup use showing that Latinas use more makeup than whites, blacks, or Asians. They could also count Middle Eastern women among the major makeup users. Something about the richness of our complexion allows for more makeup than is the norm for lighter complexions. The category white may be inclusive of my color in theory, but in white America's cultural setting the practical application of the concept white is skewed toward light complexions.

When I went grocery shopping the other day, this Arab guy started hitting on me. "'Scuse me, miss, where are you from? You look Arab."

I said over my shoulder while walking briskly away, نعم أنا عربية. He shouted after me, "عربية؟ السلام عليكم Let's get to know each other!" By that time I was out of there. It figures, why it's always the Arab guys sniffing after me like I'm a bitch in heat.

And of course I got the po pos called on me because I was sighted in a snooty neighborhood, and anyone who looks like me must be a terrorist.

I'm not a woman of color, but then white doesn't quite sit right with me either. I don't pass for "white." Maybe "white" is not the most accurate identity for me. But what that is, beats me. I always seem to fall into the cracks in between categories. And that's fine. I'm just me.

Syria and Greece, Italy and Spain, laid like pieces of a golden pavement into the sea-blue, chased, as we stoop nearer to them, with bossy beaten work of mountain chains, and glowing softly with terraced gardens, and flowers heavy with frankincense, mixed among masses of laurel, and orange, and plumy palm, that abate with their grey-green shadows the burning of the marble rocks, and of the ledges of porphyry sloping under lucent sand.
--John Ruskin

Dear sister,

Thank you so much for writing to me, it means a lot that you reach out, I'm here for you (I feel guilty saying that because I missed noticing your mail for a week, but I promise to watch out more carefully from now on). I know what you're going through-- we all go through this-- this is totally normal for gay people. It's painful and seems difficult or impossible to deal with, it wounds and scars people's souls, and there's no good reason for it. It just isn't fair that we get treated this way.

Religious prohibitions on homosexuality are left over from ancient times when small communities needed all the reproduction they could get, and if someone didn't have a heterosexual relationship and make babies, from the community's point of view, it was seen as an evasion of people's duty to keep the population going. In the old days, a large proportion of children died before they grew up and needed to be replaced. It was a fear of communal annihilation staring everybody in the face, people lived in smaller communities back then and their survival wasn't guaranteed unless they kept popping out a lot of babies. That's what the homophobia is all about. Fear. A prehistoric fear whose origin has long since been forgotten.

Nowadays the world has an enormous population, and humans have become hugely successful at survival, what with much higher yields of agriculture and prevention of diseases. We don't need to force everybody to reproduce any more. But religion has a way of getting a grip on people, and it has a way of keeping old stuff like this fear going long after the original reason for it is obsolete.

The result is the fear and hatred that oppress us just for being the way Allah created us. It's senseless and unjust to do this harm to people who never did any harm to anyone. The guilt that gets pounded into us... honey, although I came out and became an activist for LGBT rights, I still have to deal with the guilt my family pounded into me. I got it growing up even when I didn't know what it was about, I had such fear since I was a girl that I hid it all from even myself. So when I came out, my whole family rejected me. It took me a long time and a lot of work to be able to let go of them, and although it's better now, I still have these issues to deal with. It helps talking to people who remind me that there is no reason for this guilt, that those who put this guilt on us are wrong.

They're just plain wrong. We can't let them do this to us. We have to be strong within ourselves. It helps to talk it over with others, because like you said, if you had a gay brother or sister you'd have no problem with them. You could even reassure them there's no reason for guilt. So it's really important for us to support one another. If it helps you any to talk with me or anyone, please pass it along and help other LGBT people you see suffering. Individually, it's so hard to stand up to all the pressure and hatred and guilt, it can crush us. But when we support one another, we become so much stronger.

Sister, believe me, it can get better for you, it will get better for you, no matter how dark and gloomy this time gets, the truth sets us free. What oppresses you and me is falsehood, and Allah says truth always smashes falsehood. Falsehood can look scary but it's weak. Truth may seem dim and far-off sometimes, but it's always the strongest thing there is. The truth is, you are innocent, you do not deserve this guilt. Visualize yourself shaking it off. It doesn't stick to you. It's a product of unreality. The reality is you're a beautiful, caring, loving sister who has so much to offer. Allah created you good with great potential to bring love into the world and help make it a better place. No one can take this gift away from you. You have the right to be who you are, because when you're true to yourself is how you can bring good into the world. If family or community tries to force you to be false to who you are, don't obey them, don't listen to them. This guilt is harmful and destroys lives. Don't let them do that to you. Allah created you for all the good in life. There is so much love and beauty and joy to be found when you're healthy and whole within yourself. Believe you have the power to be happy and healthy, you have the right to be the whole person who you are.

Those of us who come out maybe had to pay a price, the loss of family and community, but your true family is the people who care about you, you have a community of LGBT sisters and brothers to support you and care about you. Sister, what you get by being true to yourself is so much greater than what you give up. So much richer and rewarding. You can live a beautiful life and bring love and beauty to the world around you when you start by being true to yourself.

Please gather a support network around you. Please find LGBT support services in the area where you live, and make contact. That's one of the most beautiful things I've found, queer people understand one another and are great at supporting one another. Within the LGBT community there's so much love and caring to be found. And healing. We've all been wounded this way, so we understand how to help each other heal. Just like you reached out to me in e-mail, which is great that you did, please reach out to LGBT support groups near you. It makes such a huge difference in a person's life.

You're welcome to write to me any time, I'm here for you, but I'm just one woman, write to the other sisters in our Lesbian Muslims group too, we're all here to support each other. You don't have to go to really dark places in the group like you did with me privately, but just drop a line and say hey you know this is rough and I need some support. It's one thing our people do so well. :)

Let me know how you're doing, I see you strong, healed, and joyful in your life ahead of you. I'm holding you in the light.

Love,
Jannah

Bigotry.
Discrimination.
Lack of legal protection from discrimination.

Thanks for asking.

The Black Sheep
by Karen Finley

After a funeral someone said to me
You know I only see you at funerals
it's been three since June --
been five since June for me.
He said I've made a vow --
I only go to death parties if I know someone
before they were sick.
Why?
'cause -- 'cause -- 'cause I feel I feel so
sad 'cause I never knew their lives
and now I only know their deaths
And because we are members of the
Black Sheep family.

We are sheep with no shepherd
We are sheep with no straight and narrow
We are sheep with no meadow
We are sheep who take the dangerous pathway through
the mountain range
to get to the other side of our soul.
We are the black sheep of the family
called Black Sheep folk.
We always speak our mind
appreciate differences in culture
believe in sexual preferences
believe in no racism
no sexism
no religionism
and we fight for what we believe but
usually we're pagans.
There's always one in every family.
Even when we're surrounded by bodies
we're always alone.
You're born alone
and you die alone --
written by a black sheep.
You can't take it with you --
written by a former black sheep.

Black Sheep folk look different from their families --
It's the way we look at the world.
We're a quirk of nature --
We're a quirk of fate.
Usually our family, our city,
our country never understands us --
We knew this from when we were very young
that we weren't meant to be understood.
That's right, that's our job.
Usually we're not appreciated until the next generation.
That's our life, that's our story.
Usually we're outcasts, outsiders in our own family.
Don't worry -- get used to it.
My sister says -- I don't understand you!
But I have many sisters with me here tonight.
My brother says -- I don't want you!
But I have many brothers with me here tonight!
My mother says -- I don't know how to love
someone like you!
You're so different from the rest!
But I have many mamas with me here tonight!
My father says -- I don't know how to hold you!
But I have many many daddies with me here tonight!
We're related to people we love who can't say
I love you Black sheep daughter
I love you Black sheep son
I love you outcast, I love you outsider.
But tonight we love each other
That's why we're here --
to be around others like ourselves --
So it doesn't hurt quite so much.
In our world, our temple of difference
I am at my loneliest when I have something to celebrate
and try to share it with those I love
but who don't love me back.
There's always silence at the end of the phone.
There's always silence at the end of the phone.

Sister -- congratulate me!
NO I CAN'T YOU'RE TOO LOUD.
Grandma -- love me!
NO I DON'T KNOW HOW TO LOVE
SOMEONE LIKE YOU.
Sometimes the Black Sheep is a soothsayer,
a psychic, a magician of sorts.
Black sheep see the invisible --
We know each other's thoughts --
We feel fear and hatred.
Sometimes some sheep are chosen to be sick
to finally have average, flat, boring people say
I love you.
Sometimes Black sheep are chosen to be sick
so families can finally come together and say
I love you.
Sometimes some Black Sheep are chosen to die
so loved ones and families can finally say --
Your life was worth living
Your life meant something to me!
Black Sheeps' destinies are not necessarily in having
families, having prescribed existences --
like the American Dream.

Black Sheeps' destinies are to give meaning in life
to be angels
to be conscience
to be nightmares
to be actors in dreams.

Black Sheep can be family to strangers
We can love each other like MOTHER
FATHER SISTER BROTHER CHILD
We understand universal love
We understand unconditional love
We feel a unique responsibility, a human responsibility
for feelings of others.
We can be all things to all people
We are there at 3:30 AM when you call
We are here tonight 'cause I just can't go to sleep.
I have nowhere to go.
I'm a creature of the night --
I travel in your dreams --
I feel your nightmares --

We are your holding hand
We are your pillow, your receiver
your cuddly toy.
I feel your pain
I wish I could relieve you of your suffering.
I wish I could relieve you of your pain.
I wish I could relieve you of your destiny.
I wish I could relieve you of your fate.
I wish I could relieve you of your illness.
I wish I could relieve you of your life.
I wish I could relieve you of your death.
But it's always
Silence at the end of the phone.
Silence at the end of the phone.
Silence at the end of the phone.

I know what it's like to be the weird one in the family. I'm notorious. However, my gay cousin is absolutely normal...

I used to have a theory that I'm some sort of mutant because I was born in the late 1950s, right after there had been aboveground nuclear bomb tests, and radioactive fallout circled the globe.

I am constantly accused of being a sexist man-hater every time I try to discuss my difficulties with masculinity. I swear I am not out to bash men, and my ability to relate to men has improved a lot since I've been working on this. But if I can't find a way to discuss my problems with masculinity openly and respectfully, how am I supposed to work through the problems? Are we supposed to pretend that relations between the genders are problem free? Or there would be no problems if it weren't for those damn "feminazis"?

It has taken 33 years before I could deal with the fact that I was raped repeatedly when I was 13, immediately went into denial about it, and did not even realize I was in denial about it for over 30 years. This must have influenced how I relate with males, I don't like to imagine what resentment must have festered in the darkness for all that time, and now I want to be free of whatever negative effects this had. I have to bring it to the light to detox it, sorry it ain't pretty.

I was always bullied and beaten up for being gender-nonconformist from childhood in a cultural environment that heavily enforced stereotypical gender roles (Catholic Ohio 40 years ago). If today I'm a defiantly liberated lipstick feminist getting up people's noses, well pardon my issues.

I'm always caught between the Scylla of strong women who speak out against injustice and the Charybdis of a discourse that doesn't want uppity women to have a voice. Let alone mutant freaks like me.



om krim Kaliye namah