Avicenna -- The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs 9.1

fall 2018 vol 9 no 1

avicenna the stanford journal on muslim affairs

THE STANFORD JOURNAL ON MUSLIM AFFAIRS

avicenna THE STANFORD JOURNAL ON MUSLIM AFFAIRS

FALL 2018 VOL 9 NO 1

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Simar Malhotra’19 MANAGING EDITOR Alli Cruz’20 ASSOCIATE EDITORS Atussa Mohtasham’18 Kit Ramgopal’19 Eva Grant’19 DESIGNER Simar Malhotra’19

FINANCIAL OFFICER Pranav Padode’19

Avicenna - The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs is a student-run journal founded in 2011 at Stanford University. As a nonsectarian, independent publication, Avicenna exists to portray Muslims not as silent objects but as knowing subjects, from the inside rather than the outside. Published in print and online, it aims to maintain a brave and academic agora where members of diverse communities, from different cultures, beliefs and ethnicities, can critically examine issues related to the Muslim world.

To contact Avicenna Editorial Board or to send text or image submissions, please email at avicenna.stanford@gmail.com. Avicenna - The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs would like to thank the Associated Students of Stanford University (ASSU) for their support. Front cover image: Entrance Lotfollah, Iran. Photograph by Sam Jasmine Alavi ’18 Stanford University Back cover image: Isfahan, Iran. Photograph by Sam Jasmine Alavi ’18 Stanford University

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CONTENTS Editorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Note SIMAR MALHOTRA

The Utility of Sharia in Explanding Human Rights: A Multi-Case Examination

IBRAHIM BHARMAL

Till We Meet Again ARIN MANGO

Chasing the Childhood Fantasy REFIKA CELIK

Sohrab Sepehri's Poems SORAYA FEREYDOONI

Look at You Funny SIMAR MALHOTRA

Illusions of Naghsh e Jahan Square, Isfahan, Iran A Journey in Space and Sound SAHBA LA'AL

Ramadan OMAR AUF

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Editor’s Note Born and raised in India, I’ve been too well aware of the clash between Hindus and Muslims. The cultural fabric is so wrought with the constant reiteration of the differences concerning the two communal groups, that even after 70 years of the bloody partition, the foulness remains and continues to increase. Globally too, islamophobia is on the rise. As the world makes a shift towards nationalism from globalization and with more hate crimes than ever before in the US and the UK, it’s imperative, in this moment, to be taking steps to change mindsets regarding minorities. And education, art and media are the only ways in which this can occur organically. Avicenna – The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs, hopes to bring about this change of thought, by bringing to the forefront the culture and ideas from the Muslim world and breaking down pre-conceived notions and sectarianism. Publishing works from all across the world, the journal hopes to be a window into another world and way of life. This quarter’s issue focusses primarily on the interactions between the Islam and the West, how these interactions take both positive and negative forms. We open the Fall 2018 issue with Ibrahim Bharmal’s “The Utility of Sharia in Expanding Human Rights.” In this piece, Bharmal thoughtfully takes cases of Islam in practice and proves that Islam can be compatible with human rights and that more than often, the proclamations made by many Muslim countries that human rights as understood by the West are incompatible with Islam are not Islamic in the first place. Making a switch from the academic to the creative, Arin Mango’s poem “Till We Meet Again” takes one through war-torn Syria. In her nostalgic voice, one experiences the loss, the bloodshed, juxtaposed emotions of love and gruesome death. Mango’s work truly brings out the essence of the loss of a home which continues to reside in one’s heart forever. Then we have Refika Celik’s “Chasing the Childhood Fantasy” in which she chronicles her journey from the city of her birth and childhood, Istanbul, to the Unites States of America. From learning to adapt to a new country and culture to finding true herself, Celik’s prose is a heart-felt and accurate account of the struggles, anxieties and eventual coming-to-terms of the experience of an international in America. In my own piece of flash fiction, “Look at You Funny”, I talk about the 2010 burqa-ban in Paris and the abrasions, both physical and mental, a veiled woman experienced post the legislation. Short, as the genre demands, it attempts to showcase the pressures of fitting into a society, the different choices of portraying religiosity and the hypocrisy of equality. Following it, we have Sahba La’al’s “Illusions of Naghsh e Jahan Square, Isfahan, Iran: A Journey in Space and Sound”. In this she compiles her impressions of the exquisite Naghshe Jahan Square in Iran. An architect herself, La’al provides such a detailed account of the plaza along with images, one feels physically a part of that landscape. Along with beautiful prose and poetry, one of the highlights of this issue is the black and white illustrations of Sohrab Sepehri’s poems by Soraya Fereydooni. Using delightful black and white photography techniques, Fereydooni’s photos explore Sepehri’s idea of living to the fullest. Ending the issue, we have Omar Auf ’s poem “Ramadan”, first in Arabic and then the stanford journal on muslim affairs

translated into English. Addressed to Ramadan itself, the poem is reverent, with the speaker completely submitting himself to it. With visual art, creative prose and poetry, this issue has mainly concentrated on expressing ideas about the Muslim world and its interplay with the West through art. Yours truly, Simar Malhotra B.A. English Public Policy Minor Class of 2019 Editor-in-Chief

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The Utility of Sharia in Expanding Human Rights A Multi-Case Examination Ibrahim Bharmal B.A. International Relations, Comparative Literature ’18, Stanford University

Introduction

La ikra’a fid deen - there is no compulsion in religion. Surah Al-Baqarah, Ayaat 256 (2:256) The Holy Qur’an” This particular verse from The Qur’an is the “go-to” for activists who vouch for the compatibility of Islam and human rights. La ikra’a fid deen suggests an Islam that is modest, restrained, and independent; a religion that is unconcerned with expanding its reach. As a Muslim student studying human rights, I find this suggestion assuring and true to the Islam I practice and have grown up with. However, this is not the Islam that many Muslim countries practice today. In preparing for this paper, I have pored over constitutions, state practices, and governments from several Muslim countries in the hopes of finding a “success story,” an of exemplar that might prove critics of Islam wrong. Unfortunately, such a clean, clear paragon is hard to come across. Of the Muslim countries of which this paper concerns itself, none have pristine human rights record, nor a government that systemically endorses the compatibility of Islam and human rights. Thus, the purpose of this paper is not to refute claims that cite Muslim country’s resistance to human rights. In fact I believe it is quite remarkable and worth noting how Muslim statesmen are able to so quickly cite Sharia, or Islamic law, to decline virtually

any invitation to international charters of human rights. In response to these actions, a substantial amount of literature regarding human rights apologetically focus on the religion rather than the state. Contrary to what these scholars have done, I will not cherry-pick verses from The Qur’an or doctrines of Islam. This is not a reactionary paper, and I trust in the scholars who have done this already. Rather, I intend for this paper to take these efforts a step further by presenting case studies of “Islam in practice”. To preface this paper, none of the examples provided are large, structural implementations of Islam from a government level. In fact, I was hard hard pressed to find a Muslim government that unrestrictedly embraces international charters of human rights. Rather, these examples come from civil society and Islamic courts that draw upon Islamic values to expand human rights ranging, from the abolition of polygamy to investigational reform to proceedings in rape cases. The paper proceeds as follows. In section one, I will define “human rights” for the purpose of this paper and discuss proclamations by several Muslim countries like Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Afghanistan that claim western notions of human rights are incompatible. I assert that these proclamations are hardly Islamic, do not thoughtfully engage with religion and rights, and thus should not be considered as representative of Islam. Section two contrasts these rejections of the stanford journal on muslim affairs

human rights with multiple Islamic court cases that use concepts like takhayir and ijtihad to expand human rights within their jurisdiction. These local level examples showcase how Islam is practiced “on the ground.” I conclude this paper by asserting that though I have not answered the question of “is Islam compatible with human rights,” I have shown that Islam can be compatible with human rights. Section 1: Sharia as a Political Guise This section defines human rights and Muslim countries for the bounds of this paper and offers an analysis of Muslim leaders’ decisions to not acknowledge or adhere to international human rights charters like the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), and the Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Defining Human Rights and Muslim Country Defining human rights is a difficult task. For simplicity, this paper does not extensively engage with the ambiguity of the term but focuses on two configurations of it. For this section in particular, I use international charters of human rights like the UDHR, CEDAW, and ICCPR as the main corpus for human rights. I show that Muslim countries’ tendency to cite Sharia is not indicative to their refusal to acknowledge these treaties because they are against human rights, but because these treaties threaten their political hold on their constituents. The remainder of the paper engages with human rights on a deeper level. By citing moments in which Islamic jurisprudence is used to expand individual rights like the right to marriage, divorce, and property ownership, human rights is equated to the aspirational desire to expand individual freedoms, a sentiment which is in line with the goals set out in the UDHR. Next, “Muslim countries” is easier to 8

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define. When I refer to Muslim countries, I refer to any country that formally recognizes Islam as an official religion in their government documents or draws upon Islamic principles in their states affairs. Of the 22 Muslim countries in the world, this paper gives particular attention to Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Morocco, and Pakistan. The Carelessness ofMuslim Statesmen It is of habitual practice of Muslim countries to cite Sharia as a justification for rejection or limited acceptance for international human rights instruments without specifying the Islamic norm that is in conflict. This places many actors, like treaty writers, multilateral institutions, and states, in a difficult position as regards engagement with an unspecified and broad subject. For example, with the ratification of the UDHR in 1948, Saudi Arabia was the only Muslim country member state to abstain from the vote – of which eight other Muslim states voted to approve including Afghanistan, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Pakistan, Syria, and Yemen 1. The Saudi ambassador to the United Nations, Al Barudi, objected particularly to Article 18, which includes the freedom of religion. Al Barudi claims that this would encourage missionary activity that would violate a statement in the Quran that forbids Muslims to change their faith2 . This idea has resonated in many attitudes across the Muslim world in ratifying specific international treaties. Michael Ignatieff summarizes this argument in his essay when he writes that Muslim statesmen believed that “the authors of the draft declaration had…taken into consideration only the standards recognized by Western civilization and had ignored more ancient civilizations which were past the experimental stage” particularly in 1 John Kelsay, “Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.” In Human Rights and the Conflict of Cultures: Western and Islamic Perspectives on Religious Liberty, University of South California Press, Columbia, 1988, pp. 4 2 John Kelsay, 1988, pp. 6

considering marriage and religion3 . This clash of ideologies can be seen further in Muslim countries’ interaction with other human rights instruments like the ICCPR and CEDAW. Resistance and inconsistent reservations aimed towards the ICCPR and CEDAW suggests that inflexible attitudes towards human rights treaties were haphazard and do not indicate a thoughtful engagement with the compatibility of Islam and human rights instruments. In constructing the ICCPR, controversial Articles from the UDHR like Article 18 about the right to change one’s religion and Article 23 about the right to marry and found a family were removed to cater to religious objections 4 . Regardless of these changes, Al Barudi maintained his objections by vaguely saying, “it would raise doubts in the mind of ordinary people to whom their religion is a way to life”5 . This tactic seen being used again in Saudi unwillingness to sign CEDAW, claiming that the Kingdom is “not under obligation to observe the contradictory terms of the convention” in case of “contradiction…[to] the norms of Islamic law 6”. Saudi Arabia is not alone in this practice, as Egypt, Lebanon, Bahrain, and Morocco cite similar, blanket reasons to a nebulous concept of “Sharia” as objections to CEDAW7 . Beyond vague references to Sharia, Muslim countries also exhibit contradictory behavior by rejecting treaties for particular objections that they have already signed onto agreeing with in previous treaties. For example, Lebanon, Egypt, Bahrain, 3 Michael Ignatieff, “The Attack on Human Rights,” Foreign Affairs, November/December 2001, Vol 8, Number 6, pp. 103 4 James Piscatori, “Human Rights in Islamic Political Culture” in Moral Imperatives of Human Rights, 1980, pp. 151 5 Ibid, 1980, pp. 70 6 Nisrine Abiad, Sharia, Muslim States, and International Human Rights Treaty Obligations: A Comparative Study, British Institute of International and Comparative Law, 2008, pp. 70 7 Ibid, 2008, pp. 88

Tunisia, Pakistan and Morocco agree to protecting the rights of children - ensuring children are not discriminated against - by signing onto the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC). However by submitting reservations to Article 2 of CEDAW, which ensures the elimination of discrimination against women, the countries seem to propose that girls are protected against discrimination until the day they reach the legal age of maturity8 . Here, these countries agree to protecting children rights but then backtrack on this obligation by objecting to the sanctity of women’s rights. Furthermore, countries also withdraw Sharia-based reservations, like Egypt and Pakistan on Article 20 and 21 in the CRC9 . Although this change of direction is warmly accepted, it reflects the possibility that these Islamic based reservations were more of an excuse to perpetuate a rhetoric of East vs. West ideology to advance agendas that rely on a demonization of the West. This section offers examples of instances when Muslim countries reject international human rights treaties by clumsily citing blanket statements of Sharia or Islamic law. I acknowledge that signing onto a human rights treaty is not a definitive measure to the country’s human rights commitment. As Oona Hathaway writes, a country’s expression of commitment need not be consistent with the country’s actual course of action10 . However, the above instances portray how these treaties are not rejected because of Islam, but because of political aims. These rejections suggest that they may not relate to the actual issue of human rights, but rather an issue of ideological conflict. In these interactions, the treaties are seen as Western creations and their rejections are more indicative of distaste 8 Ibid, 2008, pp. 89 9 Ibid, 2008, pp. 91 10 Oona Hathaway, “Do Human Rights Treaties Make a Difference?” Yale Law School, 1998, pp. 67

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for Western hegemony of international norms rather than the norms themselves. This is clearly showcased in instances when Muslim statesmen lack specificity and portray inconsistent patterns of citing Sharia incompatibility with international law. Part 2: Islam and Human Rights in Action The paper now shifts its focus from the higher-level bureaucratic level to the onthe-ground implementation of human rights. I focus on Islamic courts in Muslim countries that rely on jurisprudence and the concepts of ijtihad and tukhayir. These courts showcase how Islamic doctrine can be flexibly used to reform austere measures that translate to unequal practices. Examples include cases of polygamy, land ownership, and marriage. The cases span across the Islamic world, proving Sharia is not as inflexible as its critics claim it to be, and include expanding individual rights through family law in the Moudawana in Morocco, women’s right to divorce in Egypt, the abolition of polygamy in Tunisia, and the reform of rape law in Pakistan. Islamic courts use a system called ijtihad, a system in which courts make decisions after independent interpretation of legal texts, the Qur’an, and the Sunnah (texts related to the Prophet and the actions of the Prophet)11. This process requires judges, or qadis, to make legal decisions on a case-by-case basis. Often, qadis ascribe to a certain school of Islamic jurisprudence, which varies in several ways, particularly to the extent they take Islamic texts literally or contextually. The four most widely cited Islamic schools of jurisprudence are the Hanafi, Maliki, Shafi’i, and Hanbali12. The following case studies in Morocco, Egypt, Tunisia, and Pakistan show how the framework of 11 http://www.oxfordislamicstudies.com/article/opr/t125/ e990 12 http://www.mei.edu/content/schools-thought-islam

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Sharia and ijtihad can be used to bring about legislative reform that include an implementation of international human rights standards. Reform within Morocco’s code of individual rights, the Moudawana, showcases how Sharia can be adapted to abolish outdated practices that violate international human rights standards. The Moudawana was created after Moroccan independence in 1958 and was prepared by a commission of Islamic jurists of the Maliki school13. The Moudawana was extremely problematic in relation to women’s rights and enforced a guardianship system to married women,. It also made divorce very difficult, and allowed men to unrestrictedly have polygamous marriage which resulted in severe abuse to wives. As a result, the 1980s and 1990s was met with fierce opposition women’s rights movements that prompted a commission of new Islamic jurists in 2003. This commission, which included three women, proposed reforms to the system that resulted in a new Moudawana. Then-king Muhammad VI emphasized that these reforms were in line with Islamic values, claiming that “it is necessary to be mindful of the tolerant aims of Islam…[to] draw up a modern Family Law which is consistent with the spirit of our glorious religion14”. The new Moudawana showcases how coordination with a country’s government and jurists can lead to human rights reform within the configuration of Sharia. Similarly, in Egypt the flexibility of ijtihad and Sharia is evident in its reform of family laws regarding divorce. Like the Moudawana, divorce laws in Egypt have expanded their rights for women over time. Though Egypt follows one of the stricter schools of Islamic jurisprudence, 13 Ann M. Eisenberg, “Lawon the Books vs. Law in Action: Under-Enforcement of Morocco’s Reformed 2004 Family Law, the Moudawana,” Cornell International Law Journal, 2012, pp. 703 14 Ibid, 2012, pp. 717

the Hanafi school, jurists used Islamic tools to amend two laws on divorce from 1920 and 1925 15. In this instance, Egyptian jurists took advantage of the concept of tukhayyur, which is the practice of selecting favorable interpretations from among the major schools of jurisprudence. The Hanafi school has particularly stringent regulations on marriage and divorce and jurists seeking to reform the laws in 1920 and 1925 drew upon the Maliki school. According to the old laws, women were unable to divorce their husbands without the husband’s consent16. This severely disempowered women and led to situations that prevented women from escaping domestic violence. In 2000 however, jurists used a Maliki hadith, or story from the Prophet, called the “Habiba Case” that gave an example of a woman who could claim divorce if she is mistreated and abused by her husband, even if she is unable to provide prooff17. In practice, this means the wife is not weighed down by the burden of proof, which is particularly significant if she is in a dangerous or life threatening situation. This expansion of women’s rights in the case of divorce is similar to the Moroccan case of Moudawana in that women were able to gain substantial rights after jurists revised certain interpretations of Sharia. The Egyptian case is particularly interesting because these expanded rights from differing schools of Islamic jurisprudence are stitched together to reflect the most ideal interpretation that fits the historical context. The issue of gender equality is seen further in Tunisian laws related to polygamy. Like the previous cases, Tunisian jurists take hold of the concept of tukhayyur as they diverge from the country’s predominant 15 Jasmine Moussa,“The Reform of Sharia-derived Divorce Legislation in Egypt: International Standards and the Cultural Debate,” University of Nottingham, Human Rights Law Commentary, Vol. 2 , 2006, pp. 12 16 Ibid, 2006, pp. 14 17 Ibid, 2006, pp. 18

adherence to the Hanbali school18. Notable about the Tunisian case is the leadership of the president Habib Bourguiba and his deep engagement with the texts. Unlike the previous cases, the state head had a substantial amount of influence in crafting new laws. Tunisian law uses Hanbali interpretation of the following verse to allow up to four wives according to verse in the Qur’an : “Marry such women as seem good to you, two, three, four; but if you fear you will not be equitable, then only one19”. Bourguiba was aware of the pervasive abuse and poverty among wives in Tunis and emphasized the second part of the verse that demanded treatment be equal among wives. With this emphasis, he demanded the abolition of the practice. Under Bourguiba’s leadership, jurists and scholars from Zaytuna University successfully abolished polygamy. The final case relates to rape law reform in Pakistan and reflects the previous practices of ijtihad. In Pakistan, rape cases were dealt with by the Zina Ordinance, which criminalized all forms of zina. Zina is defined as “willful sexual intercourse between a man and a woman, who are not validly married to each other” and includes zina-bil-jabr which is forced Zina, or rape20. The punishment for either range from public whipping to death by stoning21. In the case of rape, the Zina Ordinance has an unreasonable requirement of four male witnesses. Also, if women bring cases of rape with insufficient evidence, they selfincriminate themselves as guilty and are at the mercy of the deciding court. This has led to a disturbing amount of deaths across Pakistan and imprisonments: according to the a report conducted by the national 18 Rehman, Javaid, ‘The Sharia, Islamic Family Laws and International Human Rights Law; Examining the Theory and Practice of Polygamy and Talaq,’ International Journal of Law, Policy and the Family, Vol 21, 2007, pp. 107 19 Quran, IV, pp. 3 20 Niaz Shah, Women, ‘The Koran and International Human Rights Law: The Experience of Pakistan,’ Marinus Nijhoff Publishers, Netherlands 2008, pp. 128 21 Ibid, 2008, pp. 128

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commission on the Status of Women of Pakistan, in 2003 over 80% of women in jails were there because of Zina Ordinance related violations. It was not until the Protection of Women Act in 2006 that treatment of rape was altered in Pakistan22. By citing a verse in the Quran that instructs punishment to men who falsely accuse women who have been violated, jurists passed the law that removed the burden of proof and allowed for forms of evidence that were less testimonial23. The new law also abolished stoning as a penalty for those found guilty of zina due to lack of evidence of this practice in the Quran24. Part 3: Conclusion The human rights community often uses a state’s practices as a metric of its human rights capabilities. A state’s ability to implement and protect freedom of belief and equal opportunity are often cited as constituents to its “human rights grade.” Though valid for human rights evaluations, this method is not reliable in measuring how Islamic a country is. A government’s interpretation of Islam is not sufficient to reflect the overall attitude of the country’s practice of Islam. In other words, the case of religion suggests that state practice is not a sufficient metric for state religiosity. When one looks closer to the actual practice of Islam, as showcased in courts across the Islamic world, we are able to see a living and dynamic practice of Islam. It is Islam put into practice rather than bureaucratic declarations that state Sharia is incompatible with “western conventions” of human rights. This paper provided several case studies where Sharia and Islamic texts have been used to adopt human rights norms. Admittedly, these are practices that are taken for granted in countries like the United States, rights that Americans 22 Niaz Shah, Women, the Koran and International Human Rights Law: The Experience of Pakistan. Marinus Nijhoff Publishers, Netherlands 2008, pp. 128 23 Ibid, 2008, 198 24 Ibid, 2008, 128

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expect. At a first glance, they seem to achieve a bare minimum of human rights. Nonetheless, the case studies showcase the clear potential between Sharia and human rights. These studies further contrast blanket declarations from statesmen like Al Barudi who haphazardly reject international doctrines and highlight the particular importance of the judiciary. Indeed, when Islamic law is practiced, it is clear that it exists dynamically within the context of its time.

Khujand Bazaar

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Till We Meet Again Arin Mango M.A. French Language and Literature, University of Toledo, Ohio, Université de Montpellier, France Arin is an Arab-American freelance writer, editor and poet based in Palo Alto, CA. Your jasmine hedge summoned me to the fountain Where we parted. You were not through Sealing my heart with your yarn At the artery. Braids of light that stretched to a sun You promised would never set, On which you etched our names. Do you remember my name? Since your illness I see your pictures everywhere. They deemed your ailment contagious, They captured your bloodshot eyes, Which once turned pretty, anything they laid upon. Now they zoom in on your choppy seas, Bemoaning your chopping teeth. Beholding you again through their eyes Was a trance inside a nightmare inside a dream: Perplexing purifying poetizing, Absorbing your lone skinny figure Was at once foreign and totally familiar, Like coming through fire and water. Your heart ten thousand years bold — still beating, Charred to the bone behind closed doors By cannibals in the dining band wagon, Wiping their mouths with my mother’s scarf and yours. They announced your beauty is pain, Your extreme poise has to be tamed, By their mainstream firepower. Blood of your unborn children is sprouting new jasmines. 14 avicenna

They hymn your name and glorify your oneness. Do you hear your town crier announcing at dawn â&#x20AC;&#x153;All love atheists and mummers begoneâ&#x20AC;?? Some people dwell in a place to belong. You dwell in me wherever I go, The garden of you and I in my soul Keeps growing till I hold your face, The God kissed forehead, rose breath, Butterflies in stomach and all. I will join the spring dancing in your eyes, This time off the beat of their war drums, And rename our love story after you. Syria. On the sun that sets yet rises every tomorrow.

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Chasing the Childhood Fantasy Refika Celik B.A. Communications, Istanbul University, 2017 Refika Celik is a 22-year-old Sparks1 alumni of The Turkish Women’s Initiative (TWI)2. She first traveled to United States for an Internship in San Francisco. She has returned back to The States hoping to pursue her Master's in International Relations. She is currently studying at the San Francisco City College. This story has been translated from Turkish to English by Sonnur Babayigit Kara. Chasing the Childhood Fantasy Little kids dream of flying at least once in their lifetime. They wonder what is above the clouds and what the farthest point from Earth is. As a four-year-old, I was one of them. I imagined that the “far end” of the Earth was above the clouds. I often visualized lounging on top of them, watching the Earth beneath me. I would imagine hopping from one cloud to another while having a little picnic in the sky. Young generation of my time in Turkey, who identify with my childhood fantasies, know that the music and rise of science fiction nurtured these illusions. But those fantasies worried my parents, who often wondered: “Has something happened to this girl? Is that why she is trying to fly?’ Back then it was very difficult to leave Turkey and live overseas; let alone fly up a cloud. However, after few years of careful deliberation I became under the impression that the “far end” of the Earth is actually China, where there is a giant 1 Sparks is the (TWI) flagship program. 2 The Turkish Women’s Initiative (TWI) provides innovative, practical, and sustainable leadership programs for girls and women. The mission of TWI is to promote leadership, educational opportunities, economic independence and civic engagement of girls and women.

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black hole there, through which one could see outer space. It took me a while to come to terms with the reality – which I still grapple with: I cannot fly and neither is China the “farthest” place on our planet. It may sound humorous that the twentytwo-year-old me of today, still revisits these fantasies and keeps her head up to the sky with aspirations. Every one of these childhood clouds became a stepping stone in my life, from which I went further and higher. There have been three cathartic moments that significantly changed my life journey. It is strange how some decisions we make hastily, that might seem like little details in the beginning, would end up shaping the big picture of our lives-- just like musical notes that create a song. The first cathartic moment for me was my decision to move to Istanbul to attend college. Like most young Turkish girls, I wanted to leave home and study in a city where I could be independent and live on my own. My family resisted the idea in the beginning, but then ended up supporting me. I had no idea what moving to Istanbul would look like or what kind of hurdles I would face. From the moment I left my Mediterranean hometown of Mersin, I started dreaming about my future, my school and my social life. When I was a child, cinema and music made me believe that flying above the clouds was possible. This time they both gave me that very same feeling about my upcoming adventure in Istanbul. Istanbul was a city that made me feel like I could lose myself in it, any day. It also

made me feel like the next rock star. This is how much it was able to transform me, both personally and spiritually. Although I neither ended up a rock star nor got lost, this magnificent city grew me up a lot. Each moment it added something new to me setting me out on a journey of selfdiscovery. After living there, I realized that despite some of the most despairing moments, moving to Istanbul was the best choice I have ever made in my life. It was my new home where I experienced new things and met new people. I vividly recall the day I went for a scholarship interview, not knowing I was about to meet some of the most inspiring people on my journey so far. The Sparks Program. I was pleasantly surprised to be asked point blank: “Refika, would you like to join a program called Sparks?” I agreed instantly. Little did I know that the splitof-a-decision I made would be second cathartic moment of my life. What makes a place ‘home’ to me, is the existence of family. But when you leave your family you start looking for family in the faces of people you meet: the Turkish bagel salesman whom you see daily, your college professor, classmates, anybody! There is truth in the saying: “Friends are your chosen family”; the instant choice I made to join Sparks, I had a new family in Istanbul. Unlike my biological family, not everyone there had the same background or outlook on life. However, dedication and sincerity brought us all together. When that year came to an end, I was not completely satisfied; that part of me still wanted to fly over the clouds. It was a feeling shared by other fellow Sparks members as well. I still remember one of my friends’ words when she expressed her wish to obtain some superpower that lets her “know about everything in the world.”

After my graduation from college, I hushed all the inquiring voices in my head and decided to relax and take it slow. With an unexpectedly serene state of mind, I was quickly approaching a crossroad where I had to decide which direction my future was going to take. The clock was ticking, but I was just waiting as if I possessed a magic wand that was going to do the right thing at the last moment. While my classmates were making plans for life after college, I was getting more and more content in my comfort Zen zone. After four years of hard work in college I decided to grant myself a “grace period.” At the end it all paid off, my mind was clear and set: next spring I am going to Germany to get my Master’s degree. Since I had five months of free time before I start graduate school, the Sparks Program sent me to the United States of America. A land even further away from my home than China, which my childhood deemed the “far end.” America was actually beyond my wildest fantasies; maybe not the far end of the world, but unquestionably seemed like its center, its hub, and still, as it was in my childhood: difficult to reach. This trip came to be a paramount point in my life, much more than I initially projected. While I was traveling to the United States, I was under the impression that my experiences in life so far, gave me a clear idea of who I really am. I was selfassured about all the knowledge Sparks Istanbul equipped me with. How could I not know myself? For me that question was not only rhetorical, but lacking in logic as well. Now after I reached this major stepping stone on my journey, The United States, I Refika, solemnly declare that I didn't have much of a clue about myself all along. That, by itself, was another cathartic point in my life. the stanford journal on muslim affairs

San Francisco taught me a lot, but most important of all was how to keep myself company. I have always made sure to surround myself with friends during my college years in Istanbul. In this new city I knew one friend whom I could only see occasionally. Not only was I away from friends and family, but they were in a different time zone. Keeping the connection was challenging. Spending time with myself in a country where I did not know the language was an adventure for me. I was only exposed to American culture as a little girl through TV and movies. Now being part of it, I am not only watching but being part of it myself. I can never forget the day I went to the grocery store and called my mom to ask her about an item I was going to purchase. Soon I realized I could not reach her because it was late at night in Istanbulshe was fast asleep. Walking the streets of San Francisco everyday was fascinating to me. In my perspective, I am in America; the world is being ruled from here. When I visited the Silicon Valley I was riveted to see Apple, where technology evolution happens. While I was riding my bicycle around Google’s hip campus with my high heels, I admired how fun and success went hand in hand. After learning the inspiring story of creating the Silicon Valley, and visiting the Stanford University, I was joking to myself how the gray stones on the ground I am stepping on must be genius stones as well. Everything around me made me even more passionate about the future awaiting me. I knew deep in my heart that moving to this place would, undoubtedly, be the most logical step I take for my future. Adapting to my new circumstances, I learned more about myself and the people 18 avicenna

around me. Soon my English improved and expressing myself in a foreign language was no longer a nightmare. My selfconfidence grew. After Istanbul I declared my second home to be San Francisco. This city constantly reminded me to never give up and keep hoping, every step of the way. It showed me how different people from different walks of life, all come together to enjoy a cup of coffee, at the same café on the same street. I attended many exciting events and listened to inspiring people recount their life struggles. I had an encounter with my childhood role model, TV personality and writer: Birsen Birdir, and cooked for her Menemen (Turkishstyle scrambled eggs). I learned about the critical decisions she made in her life and realized I was not the only one who struggled with separation. If I hadn’t come to America I probably wouldn’t have heard all these inspirational stories; I wouldn’t have met Susan, the Afghani young girl who was out of school and desperate for education. It is in San Francisco where I wrote the stories of the young ladies of Sparks who were hanging on to their big dreams. All the people I met and the places I visited will be engraved in my heart, but what I most treasured was that I re-visited myself and found out that after all I could indeed move over the clouds. Now as my journey ends, I flash back to the city streets I walked with my earphones; to all the times I sat in the Golden Gate Park, pondering over my life and future plans; to the risks I had to take with the support of Sparks. I now realize that all the experiences and individuals that life brought to my life were, seamlessly and magically, preparing me for the second half of my twenties and the rest of my life. I am returning to Turkey

with all of them in my heart and soul. With its sunny memories shining forever in my heart, I bid the cloudy sky of San Francisco good bye for now. The young â&#x20AC;&#x153;Sparkâ&#x20AC;? who started her winding road with her head up towards the sky will continue her way up as fire.

the stanford journal on muslim affairs

Sohrab Sepehri's Poems Soraya Fereydooni B.S. Biology 2020

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the stanford journal on muslim affairs

Look at You Funny Simar Malhotra B.A. English ’19, Stanford University

It is 2007. The day you turn 18 you decide what you decide to do. You decide despite your mother and father. Despite your brother who gapes in astonishment and calls it “dumb suicide.” Despite your friends and neighbors and cab drivers and canteen servers and mailmen and pharmacists. Your mother says you don’t have to do what you told her you wanted to do. That it isn’t necessary. That it is unnecessary. Your father said this is why I got you all here so that you don’t have to do what you are going to do. Allah doesn’t care, he says. People will watch, people will stare. People will do more than just that. You don’t heed his advice. You don’t care about other people. From TV footages and films, weekly classes with the maulvi, you know Allah wants you to do what you want to do. You feel it. You know you want this more than anything. Your brother starts looking at you funny. He always skipped the maulvi’s classes. But the maulvi’s class made you feel different, made you matter. And you wanted to matter. So you decide what you decide and go to the quartier close to your house to buy the black cloak. Your mother looks at you funny. Your father hates it. You know you can’t wear it inside school so you decide to wear it on the way. Your girlfriend who walked with you to school looks at you funny. She decides not to walk with you from then on. People on the way look at you funny. You don’t care because your girlfriend or people on the way matter less to you now. If they don’t respect your respect for Allah, then they aren’t people 28 avicenna

whose opinions deserve your respect. It’s been two years since you adopted the veil. You think your life has changed in ways you didn’t think it would. Not everyone who used to know you knows you now. Fewer guests come home. But those who do are understanding of your relation with Allah. Your parents don’t cringe as much before going out with you. Your brother doesn’t go out with you at all. It’s 2010 and everyone talks about banning the face veil because they think it is oppressive. Your father’s clinic has started receiving a lesser number of patients. He has removed the family photograph of the four of you taken last year by the London Eye. You don’t go out as much anymore after that one time someone hurled a stone at you. Then, just like that, they pass it. The bill. Now you are stripped of your right to wear what you wish to wear. Now you’re no more a person, but a black thing that is condemned and criminalized. Now your peers showing their cleavage are respected, but your attempt to hide yours for the same reasons of choice and willingness is no. Because, in their eyes, only the niqab, not any other type of clothing, could objectify women. Now the state decides your relationship with God. In your father’s country you would have been forced to put it on. In your country you’re forced to take if off. You wonder if there is anywhere where the forcing stops, and you can exist in the

way that you like. They think they’re saving you from the man who compelled you into wearing the veil. But the man doesn’t exist. They think they’re uplifting you and allowing you freedom and choice, but you chose the niqab and they took that away from you so where is that freedom, that choice. They think they’re advancing you but they’re unclothing you. They’re stripping you of your faith, your dignity.

the stanford journal on muslim affairs

Illusions of Naghsh e Jahan Square, Isfahan, Iran A Journey in Space and Sound Sahba La’al M.A. Architecture ‘84, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor Sahba La’al is an architect and artist based in Ann Arbor, Michigan. This short essay compiles my impressions, perhaps illusions, upon entering Naghshe Jahan Square and finding my way to the Royal Mosque, the Masjid e Shah, recently renamed Masjid e Imam. The history of the square (meydan) can be traced back to Sassanid Dynasty (224-651 AD) and possibly earlier. The two mosques (masjids) and the palace in the meydan were built during the Safavid era (15981629 AD). The entire site is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Photo taken by Sabha La’al Fig.1. General arrangement of buildings in Naghsh e Jahan. 1. Masjid e Shah, 2. Masjid e Sheikh Lotfolla, 3. Entrance to the Main Bazaar, 4. Palace of Aali Qapu, 5. Meydan e Naghshe Jahan I entered the meydan on foot from one of the westerly entrances (Fig. 1) along the market (bazaar), which surrounds the meydan. The bazaar is a flowing 30 avicenna

river, with its wave-like repetition of brick arches on two, continuous levels all around the meydan. As I look up and around the meydan, the unifying order of the surrounding bazaar walls frames my visual experience of the space through the rhythm of the openings and the pattern of recessed volumes. This flowing rhythm is punctuated by the porticos (iwans) to the Masjid e Sheikh Lotfolla on the east (2), to the bazaar on the north (3), and to the Masjid e Shah on the south (1). Photo taken by Sabha La’al

Fig.2. Masjid e Sheikh Lotfolla as it plugs in the flowing form and unifying order of the Bazaar. The structural framing of the entire meydan is expressed in the two-layered repetition of curvilinear shapes and shadow-line of the grid, emphasizing the flowing waveform of the bazaar. Its architectural elements are predominantly golden ochre with occasional blue-patterned, ceramic panels. The iwans and their enclosures at the masjids are mostly blue and, because

of it, the space feels as if it is submerged in water, connoting the ocean or perhaps suggesting that the blue of the sky has been absorbed into the walls (Fig.2).

two at the courtyard (sahn) are like arms announcing the presence of Masjid e Shah four times. Notice the mountains in the immediate distance. The sides are beveled at forty-five-degrees, precisely the angle of the direction of Mecca to Meydan, yet the iwan is oriented north to south in the direction of the Meydan. There are no indications that the visitor has to turn in a forty-five-degree angle.

Plan taken from The Sense of Unity Fig.3 Plan of my path, entering the Meydan Naghsh e Jahan, passing through the iwan and Gate to the Courtyard of Masjid e Shah, shown with red lines and arrows. I crossed the meydan along a reflective pool facing Masjid e Sheikh Lotfollah with its blue portico. The tightly-stretched blue surface of paint seems to hold together all the ceramic patterns, decorative paneling and architectural elements against the brick, supporting walls. I turned south, right, and came to the entry iwan to the Masjid e Shah. This iwan is flanked with the ends of the bazaar spilling into its blue space, which has beveled, forty-five-degree sides and lead to a gate (darvaze) with two minarets (menaar) on each side, then to an arcade that connects to the courtyard (sahn), which faces the Masjid e Shah.

Merchants are soliciting for attention just around the corner, seeing no conflict between commerce and spirituality. After all, the bazaar is the river that connects building spaces in the Meydan. The bazaar surrounds and contains the Meydan, much like the geological topography that surrounds Isfahan. I think the metaphor of local geology can be broadened to the buildings in the Meydan, as they resemble the isolated rocky outcrops in the immediate natural landscape visible from the Meydan. Furthermore, in earlier periods the bazaar may have extended to the south to meet its natural counterpart, Zayande Rud, the largest river in the Iranian Plateau.

Photo taken by Sabha Laal Photo taken by Sabha Laal

Fig.5. Close-up of courtyard wall.

Fig.4. Two minarets at the entry gate and

Colorful tile patterns and polished stone the stanford journal on muslim affairs

veneer cover all surfaces of walls and openings surrounding the entry, with two minarets aligning with the courtyard. As I get closer to the walls, the geometric shapes of polygons next to floral and plant forms reveal themselves. They are often unrelated and contrasting, always organized within or around a framed panel (Fig.5 and 6). The colors, shapes and patterns contrast and complement each other and begin to vibrate within and out of the walls. These patterns are beyond decoration and beyond the symbolic meaning so frequently advertised by tour guides as the “hidden meaning” of the walls. The synergy of the patterns all around tend to mimic music and create a sense of musical space. With the patterns, shapes, colors echoing each other through opposing walls and openings, the space itself generates and induces musical thought, the kind of thought that remains with a person after listening to music, a musical afterimage. As light changes, the shadows create within the mind a multi-faceted musical composition. Quoting Goethe,” Architecture is frozen music.” To me, the experience of moving through Naghshe Jahan and getting to the Masjid e Shah is a manifestation of that quote. Namely, the musical sensation of this space is that of joy, exhilaration and ecstasy.

Photo taken by Sabha Laal Fig.6. A corner of Entry Portico to Masjid 32 avicenna

e Sheikh Lotfolla, vibrating with colors, shapes and patterns. Sadness has no place here in the Meydan or the masjids and Aali Qapu. I could not go through the gate with minarets because of a short wall that blocked the passage. I was naturally directed walk at forty-five-degrees as I moved through the space. This angular shift breaks the entire symmetry of the meydan’s architectural space and buildings. Shattering symmetry emphasizes the dynamic nature of the composition and the shifting of spatial weight in the overall balance of the meydan, a variegated, pulsating architectural symphony.

Photo taken by Sabha Laal Fig.7.Close-up look through one of the side arcades of the Masjid e Shah Sahn. A multi-faceted, echoing, musical space. All the walls and the vaulted ceilings were covered with a tightly-stretched, colored and tiled surface. Here, the tone of the patterns and the music of the space heightened, as the tile panels were closer to the me as I walked, and the proportions of the space were reduced. Yellow and green were more frequently used and other starkly contrasting patterns. The vibrational echoes from the adjacent and opposing walls, with their many contrasting colors moving in all directions, were dizzying and created a psychedelic

atmosphere. The architecture of Naghsh e Jahan composes a symphony of colors, shapes, textures and forms in an interplay and dance with Life itself. Just as everyone sees color differently, everyone senses their own music walking among the walls of Naghsh e Jahan.

the stanford journal on muslim affairs

Ramadan Omar Auf B.A. Economics and Society '20, Sciences Po, Paris, Menton Campus

We miss you, O Ramadan, We would like to ask for peace, O Allah, guide us to Ramadan, And place us behind the imam, Distance us from evil, And bring good to the forefront, Expel from us wickedness, And let benevolence steer the way, So bring serenity to the heart, In our lives and in our sleep, And forgive us even if (for our shortcomings) we are to blame, Because we are small, and you, You are Great, you are Peace.

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