Ramadan Sleepover

Growing up, I used to listen to my school friends tell me about how they spent their holidays in towns far from London (Leicester, Preston, Blackburn, Manchester) spending weeks with cousins, at family wedding, having sleepovers. I felt like I missed out because we had such little family here and none my age, being the oldest of my generation in the UK.

 

My oldest three were the first children grandchildren in my family, so also didn’t have peers, but had my sisters to treat them and take them places.

 

In contrast my youngest two (Darling 9 and Baby 7) find themselves with a squad of little cousins around the same age - all girls, all sassy attitude and all good friends (most of the time). I’ve treasured the fact that they are growing up with so many wonderful, shared memories like family trips, holidays and special occasions together and sleepovers.  

 

They have had a few sleepovers together and I have hosted once or twice, but not the whole squad of five girls. So when my sister Fashionista mentioned she was coming to stay at my (nearby) parents for Easter break, I thought it would be nice for her oldest girl to stay at mine. As Ramadan started at the beginning of the two week holidays, we hadn’t really had the chance to do much with the girls, so this was a chance for them to have some fun as the break drew to an end. I invited my brother’s daughter (aged 9) and my little cousin who is the same age too.  No one needed to be asked twice.

 

Various parents dropped their girls off through the day with growing chaos and excitement. Gorgeous (aged 15 and old enough to know better), decided that this was a good opportunity to cause mischief and teased the girls at every turn. By the time it was time to break our fasts, there had been various arguments and sulks and Darling had already thrown herself at me in the kitchen and declared she couldn’t cope with so many people in the house and that no one was listening to her. I explained she was the host and the girls were her guests so she had to look after them and listen to them too.

 

As soon as the dished were cleared, we got some of my husband’s sleeping bag collection out and started making up beds on the living room floor. It took me about two hours to get everyone to lie down and try and sleep. Ten minutes after I left them, they were all up again and complaining. Gorgeous had stuck his head in the corner and told them a story about a family that was apparently murdered in the house and that at night the ghosts would come out of the storage cupboard at one end of the living room and kill them all. What followed was half an hour of trying to find an acceptable order for everyone to lie down so that no one was nearest to the cupboard. In the end Little Lady had to come down and tell them off and make them lie down again.

 

Next morning, I woke them up early and got them all ready to leave the house. I figured, if I got them out, the rest of the household who were fasting could sleep a bit longer in peace. We headed to the park to meet with the gardening group I volunteer with on Saturday mornings. We gave them a tour of the spaces we had created, including a nature trail with bird feeders, a stag beetle and bug hotels the group had created. 

Then I equipped them with litter-pickers and I got them to pick rubbish across the park on their way to the playground. They seemed to really enjoy it. We filled a bag of rubbish, got lots of nice comments from park users and then had the park ranger come over to say thank you to the girls for helping to take care of the park. I was holding the rubbish bag open and I think I spent most of the time telling hem to point the pickers downwards and trying not to get hit in the face by one.

After a good play in the park and taking lots of pictures under the gorgeous blossom trees I took them home to rest, get cleaned up and get ready to go out again. We headed to one of my favourite places in my area – our local library.

 

They had a mini art exhibition that the girls enjoyed giving their opinions on – they thought the painting of the horse was particularly impressive.

I got them to pick books and let them read for a while, until one of the librarians invited them to join in a dinosaur hunt game which they loved. On completion they got stickers, activity sheets and a medal. So that just made everyone’s day.

 

After an hour in the library, I took them shopping and let them choose a jigsaw to so together and a toy each to take home. They were all fasting, so I let them choose some snacks for after iftar (fast breaking) as well. They were super excited by their toys and snacks and took lets of pictures posing with their toys.

 

By this point they were starting to tire, so we took the bus home and I encouraged them to rest. They decided to build a den to play their jigsaw in. How can I describe the number of arguments, sulks and tantrums that this led to – everyone was the expert in den making and wanted to do it their own way. After an hour of squabbling, I suggested they did some painting in the garden instead.

The painting and doing the jigsaw got us to almost the end of the day and iftar. With half an hour to go, I got them to help get the table spread ready and the sit down to make dua for their parents. They were flagging a little by this point as they were hungry and a little tired, so iftar time was very welcome. Of course, as soon as they had eaten and then attacked their snacks, they were full of energy again and ready for another sleepover. Maybe next holidays.

My Little Hijabi’s

A few month ago my second youngest child, Darling, aged 9, asked me if she could wear her hijab to school. I asked her if she was sure, and on hearing that she was, I said of course she could.

 

I can’t lie, I hesitated for a few moments. Not because I don’t love the hijab and am proud of her, but because I know that perhaps people might treat her differently because of it. They may see her as a Muslim before they see her as a child. Some will assume that I and her dad made her wear it.

 

Of course, I said yes and told her I was very proud of her. Of course, the first day she wore it to school, someone told her she “looked like an Indian” and of course it being Darling she happily told of them and had them missing playtime for a week, much to her glee.

 

She has taken it quite seriously, both making sure she wears it every day and making sure she matches it to her outfit. My youngest seems to have decided she likes the idea as well and asked if she can wear it too.  She has adopted it in her own wild and dishevelled way, in contrast to Darlings meticulous neatness. On more than one occasion she has gotten half way to school and realised she has forgotten it. Most days most of her hair is sticking out of the front and her little hijab is lopsided.

 

I think a big part of their decision to wear hijab is linked to their going back to the masjid for Quran classes after two years of online lessons. They are in a class for two hours every day with other little Muslimah’s and two lovely young teachers who have recently graduated as Islamic scholars. These two teachers have been phenomenal positive role models for them, bringing them closer to the faith and bringing it to life for them, complementing teaching with stories, time to play, crafts and little gifts for the girls.

 

I pray that they love wearing hijab as much as their mum does for the rest of their lives and that Allah (SWT) is pleased with them, their teachers and accepts it from them and us.

Darling as a Sufragette (school dress up)

The girls dressed up for World Book Day (as Cinderella and Enid, a character from The Worst Witch book series - yes thats an abaya)

My messy little one rocking her matching purple hijab and fave kitten socks 

Picture of the Day 18.06.19: Byootf or Uglee?

My youngest two (collectively known as the Babies), remind me so much of my youngest two sisters: fashionista and Harlequin.  Not only do they look like them, they play and fight exactly as I remember they used to (and sometimes till do).

When they are good together, they adore each other and play like friends.  When they are “having a moment” there is blame and there are tears.  One of their favourite tactics in recent times has been to write each others names somewhere that will get the other in trouble (on a wall, on a pillow and on the stool by my dressing table ☹ ). It doesn’t work because I recognise their writing and the trick of writing the others name is too obvious. 

My youngest made me this picture to tell me how she felt about her older sister in the moment.  I told her it was not very kind and not true either, but had to stop myself from laughing.  I loved how she drew them looking exactly the same. 

Picture of the Day 15.06.19: Growing Up

I spent an afternoon with my oldest in central London shopping, squabbling, disagreeing and trying to hold my tongue.  Her GCSE exams are finished now thankfully, and she is job hunting, I hope this is enough to keep her busy and out of mischief.

I have come to the conclusion that we have different values and such a different way of looking at things and I am trying to respect that.  It still pains me the influence of peers and popular culture and how quickly it seemed to erode everything we have tried to teach our children: respect, compassion, faith and community.  Yet the pull of a certain kind of materialistic culture seems to override everything (the one that has every foolish teen talking about their “best life” – usually referring to new trainers, make-up and being allowed to go to Westfield shopping centre on their own. I can’t tell you how much I have come to hate the term).

In any case, we seem to have come to a kind of truce, where she is allowed to go out unsupervised, but must tell me where she is and come home before six and I try not to stick my nose into her business too much. In return she will be polite to her grandparents and help in the house when asked.

I am so tired of fighting and trying to keep an eye on what is going on with her, I have four others to take care of alongside my in-laws at the moment.  I think this is the point where she has to take responsibility for her actions and start managing her time, money, worship and studies – she is the one who will have to live with the outcome. 

Mini Eid Party for the Mini's

One of Darling’s friends invited her to an Eid party along with other girls from her class.  Her mum was kind enough to invite both of my little girls.  It’s quite something to watch the little girls in action, full of excitements and happiness at being together outside of class.  Darling’s friend circle and her class and friend politics are an ongoing source of entertainment in our home: who is friends with who, who they are not talking to and who is in and out of favour.

This is her bestie, the one she talks about every day and an absolute sweetheart of a little girl.  It was nice that she was invited as she is not Muslim – I believe in being inclusive and not leaving people out, especially children.  And it made Darling’s day.  They had had their first fight the day before and were never going to be friends again.  Someone forgot to remind her that this was the case when they met at the party (we all teased her that the world had turned upside down if she and her bestie were no longer friends, it was too strange to believe).

They had lots of games and seemed to spend most of them jumping up and down and squealing excitedly.  Midway through, they suddenly got distracted by the chickens making a racket in the neighbours garden – that’s not something you hear often in the city.

There was a lot of sparkle at this party:

The hostess put on a really nice little spread for the girls:

The strawberries were the first to go. What is it with little kids and strawberries?

It was a really nice idea to do something for the little kids, we don’t do birthdays, so this would be a nice little replacement and I liked how relaxed and simple it was. I might consider something like this for a future Eid or a summer party.

Happy Muslim Mama – GCSE’s, Fasting and Growing Up

Little Lady is currently in the middle of her GCSE exams and thankfully focused on her studies. As usual, she is being cool, collected and somewhat aloof in the face of my worrying.  As usual I am anxious and want to take away her tiredness and burden.  When I started blogging she was about 5 and my lovely, fierce little girl that I loved holding.  Along the way there have been some bumps, some tears and perhaps a reluctance on my part to let go and let her grow up.  The fact that she is now doing GCSE’s seems astonishing to me.  It also breaks my heart as a little reminder that she is 16, growing so fast and with so few years left under our roof until she sets out on her own life journey.  This is exactly the kind of thing that makes her roll her eyes at me…

I have stopped asking her to do her chores and I have been providing her with her favourite foods and sweet treats. She has been studying late into the night and then again after fajr (dawn prayers) for a while.  She has had about half of her exams and says she feels like they went okay.  I tell her she looks like she has lost weight and she rolls her eyes (I think she is secretly pleased). 

I am counting down the days (about three weeks) until she is done and can sleep, eat, rest and play without thought of studies for a few months and I can stop fretting.  Alhamdulillah I am so proud of her for taking her studies seriously and getting on with it and continuing fasting while she has exams.  Please remember her in your dua’s and may Allah (SWT) bless her and all the children sitting their exams absolute success insh’Allah.  May Allah (SWT) make them a source of joy and comfort for their parents and a source of benefit for their communities and this world insh’Allah. Ameen. 

I wanted to take a pic of her desk, but there was such a pile of food wrappers, clothes, makeup and stuff piled over her books, that I couldn’t find an angle that didn’t look like a junk pile, so this stock image will have to do – it’s exactly the kind of thing she would like.

Picture of the Day 05.05.19: Once Upon a Time at Valentines Mansion

We visited the Once Upon a Time event at valentines Mansion with the Babies and my little cousin yesterday.  The tickets were cheap and it gave the girls a chance to dress up in their costumes, so I thought why not?

There were lots of little details and touches from fairy takes and stories like Alice in Wonderland (I remember some of the props from a previous years Alice in Wonderland themed event).

There were quite a few activities including story times, a sing-along performance, big games for little children and a fairy trail hunt – much harder than you would expect, we didn’t find many of the items on the trail.

A nice, easy day out for the girls and not at all expensive.

A Few Quiet Days Off

I have taken a few days off this week and next week during the children’s Easter break from school. I had lots of annual leave and extra hours from work that I had to use up before the end of the financial year or lose them.  I was looking forward to a break from the overwhelm of work, spending time with the children and catching up with housework.

We had hoped the weather would improve and we could go away for a few days. Unfortunately, our family car was stolen and it’s still grey and raining. So, we are at home. I kind of don’t mind. I can’t remember the last time I had the luxury of doing things slowly, or even having some time free with nothing to do – just reading, blogging if I feel like it, or roaming around the house aimlessly.

I am having to fight the urge to do “things” and the anxiety that I am not being productive.  Now that I have had a few days to mull over it and sit with it, it’s making me realise how relentless I can be with myself an everyone around me.  We must be doing something all the time, anything, being productive, aiming for something.  It drives me up the wall to see people doing nothing when they could be cleaning, organising, working, studying, revising, something. Even holidays and rest time for me involve doing something.

It makes me wonder what drives me in this way, some insecurity? Some fear of not having enough, doing enough or being enough?  I will sit with this a bit longer, doing nothing and feeling uncomfortable and see where it takes me.

In other news, my house feels like a battlefield at the moment.  Both hubby and I have had enough of the teenagers angry and rude behaviour in the last few months and decided enough is enough. Little Lady is rude and likes to hide in her room. Little Man is angry and explodes at every turn picking on his younger siblings and shouting and swearing.

We have tried being patient, praising good behaviour, not forcing religion down their throats and listening to what they say. We have tried being gentle, kind and treating them like young adults.  But there is a limit to our endurance and the level of rudeness and disrespect we can tolerate.  So I have taken away their phones, no takeaway or junk food, or privileges and no fun during school holidays.  Little Lady has responded by disappearing into her room once more and being surly and painfully sarcastic.  Little Man is furious. He is adamant he will get worse and we haven’t seen anything yet. He is refusing to talk to me except to say vehemently that he doesn’t want to talk to me.

I have tried to talk them down (sometimes successfully), I have tried reasoning, I have tried encouraging them to talk to me about makes them angry, I have taken their side when they needed me to.  But I am so, very tired of it all.  I can’t tolerate both their Dad and I being spoken to with rudeness and contempt.  I wouldn’t tolerate it from work, my wider family or the world in general, so how can I accept it from the children I do everything for? Months, even years, of day in day out fighting with them has left me feeling bruised and battered.  I ask myself isn’t this what parents are supposed to do?   Absorb the anger and keep going, keep being there, keep loving unconditionally?

I have questioned everything with them – my parenting, my values, my way of living out my faith. I have lost sleep and cried myself to sleep. In the end my husband reminded me – we have to keep strong; we have to stay united, we have to be firm in our beliefs and in doing what feels like the right thing with our children.  In the end they will all go their own way and we will be left together. 

At the end, I don’t know what to do any more. Except to be quiet, to be firm in what feels right and to keep going. To act with love, kindness and patience. To listen, to pray and ask Allah (SWT) for help, trusting he is the one that answers out prayers.

image source

Loneliness and Motherhood: Parenting Muslim Teens

When we share out experience of motherhood we talk about the challenges such as exhaustion and losing ourselves and the exhilaration of love and satisfaction that being a mum can bring.  But it’s not so often we talk about loneliness.  Occasionally, the conversation is about how hard it can be to be the mother of a small child – the loss of social life or the shrinking of your world to where your pram can get to. 

I never experienced this loneliness as a mum, I had my family nearby, my grandmother lived with me and then my in-laws would stay for five months every year.  I would return to work after maternity leave, where I would have friends to go to lunch with.  Hubby was always my sounding board and my sisters are good to talk to too.  Perhaps I never had time to be lonely, if anything I was so rarely alone that I craved and savoured moments of isolation.

But then being surrounded by people, is not the same as not being lonely.  For the first time in my life I am getting first hand experience of what that means.

Parenting teens can be a lonely business.  Your little ones put you on a pedestal, you are the best mum in the whole world, the loveliest and the kindest.  As they approach their teens, their opinion changes and sometime it’s as if nothing you do seems right. 

You set boundaries, so restrict them from what they want.  We have had a tug of war over more freedom for my children that neither of us seem to be winning.  Everything you do or say leads to eye rolling and complaint.  All of the hard work you put in when they were small seems to have been ineffective and the kids are suddenly questioning your values about hijab, Quran study, music and all sorts of other things.

Where you were celebrated, now you are the focus of all complaints and you feel as if everything you do is wrong.  I remind myself that some of this because I am my children’s safest space to vent and dump their frustrations, sometimes they just need reassurance or a little kindness and attention.  It still doesn’t make it easy and sometimes I find myself veering between questioning everything I do and steeling myself against criticism enforcing the boundaries in what feels like a heartless way.

The loneliness is not just inwards, but outwards too.  When your little ones are tiny, everyone shares the pain.  People know about the discomfort of pregnancy and childbirth, followed by the sleepless nights, nursing and all that goes with a small baby then a toddler (potty training anyone?).  If they don’t know, you are happy to share it with people and there is always another new mum who you can share stories with.

But people are not so quick to talk about their teens. Not when things are not peachy perfect.  Who admits if kids aren’t doing well at school, or when they suddenly go from cute to gangly, spotty, funny looking things.  My oldest won’t let me take pics of her anymore and certainly I wouldn’t dare share them with anyone, she would see that as a breach of trust.  No one wants to admit that their daughter is being flooded with hormones and a superficial culture that is making her question wearing hijab so young or boys that just can’t see why they can’t play on the streets or go to the park alone like their friends.

More and more I cans see that they are testing their boundaries and questioning everything in a way that is normal for their age.  I am sure they are not the only ones.  But when people ask how they are, you say fine, all good and smile.  They do the same and no-one admits that their teens are anything less than perfect because if they are not amazing by this point, it is clearly too late and you are a loser who could not bring their children up properly.  So you continue to deal with the battles alone – feeling vilified and questioning all that you have done.

Family is not much better - your other half is just confused and annoyed about what happened to your previously lovely children, your in-laws offer unsolicited advise that feels judgemental and makes you feel a failure and your parents still think their grand kids are perfect and you must be doing something wrong.  Although my mum occasionally reminds me wryly what I was like as a teenager.  My siblings all have small children who have a long way to  their teen years (although we occasionally call the little girls three-nagers because of their diva attitudes).

For those of you who are in the same position, there are a few things that help me:

Remembering my own teenage years – I remember being irritated by my mum as a teen and not agreeing with her about anything.  I think I am slowly turning into her now and I love her like crazy and feel very protective about her now.

Trust in Allah and your own hard work – all those dua’s, those salah’s and supplications.  All the effort and self-sacrifice.  When you do it for Allah (SWT), I know He doesn’t waste a single word or deed or second of pain or discomfort that you have said or done out of His fear or love.  I trust that my kids will come out of their teen years and what we taught them will make itself apparent in their lives and behaviour.  I do believe they will be good people one day insh’Allah.  No I believe they are now.

Remembering the vulnerable little ones they were – When Little Lady makes me want to shout, I remember the time I brought her home for the first time from the hospital.  I used to try and make her smile every day. so I can take a picture.  How much I loved holding her.  I remember being confused at how funny she looked when she was born and promising I would love her anyway.  She is still the same and I still love her the same.  The other day I was tiding her room and found an old doll she had since she was tiny tucked in a corner of her bed.  I laughed out loud, despite her old soul she does still have some of that messy, playful little girl in her.

Thinking of the reward – nothing good comes easily or without sacrifice.  And what is as great as the reward promised to a mother:

The Prophet Muhammad said, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him: Your Heaven lies under the feet of your mother (Ahmad, Nasai).

I would love to hear from mothers going through this or who have come out the other side and learn from them.

She-Hulk and the Teen Button-Presser

There was a time when I was known for my temper.  I could erupt quickly and nastily and no one near me was safe.  I thought that time was long behind me.  But as my children move into their teenage years, I find my oldest at 15, has found some buttons that can switch the rage back on.  I thought those buttons had been lost in the mists of time, or at least buried so deep in the recesses of my mind that I would never see them again.  But she has deftly and easily uncovered them again, pressing them with abundance and setting off the fury, turning me into someone I am ashamed of.

I grew up in a household where my mum was very free with the use of her fists and various kitchen implements.  She was young, frustrated and perhaps traumatized from a lack of love and a mother in her own life.  In turn, it made me quick with my insults and my own hands, as my poor siblings will attest to. 

I never thought much of my temper and never cared much about the effect on other people.  That was until I married the kindest, most loving and most patient man.  They say that “Love brings up everything unlike itself for the purpose of healing and release.” (A Course in Miracles by Helen Schucman).  I can attest to the truth of this in my marriage, my husband’s love and patience meant that I began to release some of the anger, much of it in his direction in the beginning.  I began to see the harm it could cause.  Certainly, once I had my daughter, my precious first-born, I realised that I couldn’t carry on as I once had.

I left Little Lady when she was two and Little Man at eleven months old to go for Hajj with my husband.  As the multitudes circles the Kabah and asked Allah (SWT) for what they needed, I asked for one thing.  I begged Allah (SWT) to help me control my temper, to be kind and gentle and to not hurt those I loved the most and who deserved it the least: my husband and child. 

I didn’t feel the affect immediately.  But over the following years, I felt myself mellow and become calmer.  I found options to manage my emotions, children and life that didn’t involve hitting, shouting and blowing my top (the shouting did still happen sometimes). 

I thought I had cracked it, I thought I had a good relationship with my children and I enjoyed being their mum. But life has a way of humbling you and giving you reasons to crawl back to Allah (SWT) on your knees and beg for help.

Perhaps this is that time.  The buttons get pressed and the she-hulk comes out again leaving me a mess and asking myself how I could have coped with this situation differently.  How do I support my child, how do I listen properly?  When do I Iet go and say I have done my best and when do I straighten my back and say I deserve better, I won’t be spoken to like that?  Where do I hold my tongue for the sake of nurturing this relationship and where do I speak up to guide my loved one away from what’s wrong?

Today I was tired and anxious and craving some quit time, and the she-hulk came out a little too quick.  I sent everyone to bed in a harsh way when perhaps I should have gathered them close and loved them until I felt soothed and they had had their hearts fill and gone to bed themselves.  I don’t know, but I suspect it would have been better than sitting on my own feeling guilty and ashamed and thinking about what damage I might have caused.  If there is anything good to come out of it, it gave me time to pause and reflect.

In the end I called LL in and sat with her in a while, I asked her what she needed for me and what I could do to help her.  Now I am going to see if anyone is awake that needs hugs.

image source

I saw this and literally laughed out loud, Little Lady couldn’t see why it was funny.

Picture of the Day 08.07.18: Sugar Frenzy

Fashionista was visiting London for the weekend with my sweetheart of a niece, so we decided to take my mum and the kids out for ice cream.  It’s an interesting effect on kids whose parents try to limit sugar intake, the subsequent effect of liberal consumption of sugary foods.  I don’t recall eating sugar as a kid and my behaviour changing, but I suspect there was always so much in my blood stream that I was permanently a bit hyper.

The youngest three of the group (my lovely niece, Darling and Baby) are firm friends (along with my brother’s cheeky daughter and my little girl cousin – a group of five diva’s).  They held hands on the walk there, all had the same dessert (in different flavours) and held hands on the way home.  Except on the way there they were fairly sane. In the dessert place, once they had had some ice cream, they were zooming around the shop and cackling like little lunatics.  The played up on the way home and my two got home only to start jumping off furniture, my uncle came to visit and baby threw herself at him and hugged him enthusiastically much to his surprise and laughter.  I could almost have timed it: the sugar wore off, there was a slightly stunned look about Darling for a little while before she dozed off.  Baby doesn’t do subtle or slow, so she went straight from hugging my uncle to putting her head on a cushion and falling flat asleep.

Which was all nice for some peaceful time for me to chat to my uncle about grown up things (politics, local and Pakistani) and get my chores done, but now I am starting to feel stunned and zoned out.

Picture of the Day 01.07.18: Learning to Skate

Hubby's job as a removal man means he comes home with all sorts of things; some valuable, beautiful or useful and others random junk I have to decide what to do with or lug down to the charity shop.

This week he came home with an ironing board, a TV stand, a big bag full of really lovely baby toys and some new roller skates.  All of the other items went to neighbours who had either asked for them or were happy to take something for free.  Darling got the roller skates.  Being the biggest chicken ever, she isn’t one to fall over and try again, so her dad helped her practice:

It wasn’t long before Baby wanted her turn and being a daredevil spent the whole time falling over and trying to get up again with Darling’s help.

Teen Muslimah and Body Consciousness

I remember being a teen and sometimes getting unwanted attention, probably at a younger age than was appropriate.  I remember being a teen and being aware of my many perceived flaws alongside a cocky arrogance about my youth and how skinny I was.  Despite these things, I would rather have been a teen then than now any day.

I see the pressures that my oldest daughter faces at aged 15 - academic, social, from peers, physically and I lament the loss of childhood so soon.  I also resent the culture we live in that focusses on every inch of a women’s body from the crown of her head to her toes.  A focus that is hyper-critical, merciless, unrealistic and punishing.  Full lips, nose contoured to a perfect point, chin shaped to a point and cheekbones you can slice bread with.  Enormous breasts, tiny waist and killer curves. Salon perfect nails and perfect mermaid waves in your hair. Slim ankles and perfect toes, feet with a high instep and every inch of the body hairless, silky smooth and free of pigmentation, scar or stretch mark.  That’s before you even get started on clothing and a studio-full of makeup layered on faces over and over again until you can hide the face Allah (SWT) gave you with a mask you like better.

The cultural pressures and standards around beauty are part of our culture and I have tried over the years to teach my children that they are as Allah (SWT) wishes them to be, that Allah (SWT) made them beautiful as they are.  I try to teach them to be grateful for all that Allah (SWT) has blessed them with and finally when all else fails to “work what your mama gave you”.

I reject the unrealistic standards of beauty that change each generation so that there are always losers as we chose one ideal of beauty over all the others and fail to appreciate the diversity of beauty.  Whether gaunt “heroin chic” when I was a teen in the 90’s or surgically enhanced curves today, in choosing either you fail to see the different types of beauty around us: willowy, slender women, toned athletic women, petite curvy women, luxuriously full-figured women.

Even moreso, I reject the cruel beauty standards of my own South Asian culture: an obsession with fair skin and weight – always too fat or too slim, but never right.  On top of that the lack of manners or perhaps thoughtlessness of sisters who feel the need to comment on those around them.

I have spent years hearing family members and acquaintances commenting on my weight and colour, but more recently on my children’s colouring.  People will say that Little Lady was “so much fairer when she was a child, what happened?”  When Little Man was very small people would say he is dark with distaste – I loved has glowing, healthy dark Mediterranean colouring.  People would comment on his big lips, ten years later his big lips are in fashion.  Darling is often complimented on her fair skin, but this is no better than people saying negative things about my other children, because I would rather she does not become fixated on something as superficial as colouring.

This week I heard three comments from friends over two days.  I attended a sisters halaqa where a sister asked why Little Lady tans so quickly.  I replied because I do and we all catch the sun quickly.  The next day I met a friend while out shopping with my daughter and she asked me why Little Lady was so skinny.  I was surprised because LL had gone from skinny kid to plump teen almost overnight and then managed to bring her weight down through healthy eating and discipline.  I said that she was a healthy weight and left it that.  This after being told in her early teens that she was fat, including by both of her grandmothers.  I can tell you they got an earful from me and didn’t mention her weight again.

The some evening a neighbour popped by to ask for help in filling out a form.  LL happened to be trying on a new dress that Harlequin Sister gifted her and came to show me.  My neighbour complimented her and commented on how much she has changed from a short, skinny little kid to a beautiful young woman in a few short years.  I took the compliment for what it was, and I think LL enjoyed it anyway.

It has made me think though about how much scrutiny young women come under. How easily we expose them to our throw-away comments and how people seem to feel comfortable criticising and judging things that are not of their choice but from Allah (SWT).  I think as my girls get older I will make it my business not just to educate them about the blessings of Allah (SWT) but to educate those careless people around them too.  It’s one thing to have a thick skin and to make your children resilient, but there is something to be said about making people think twice before they open their mouth to say something unkind to a young woman when she is at her most impressionable.

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