Threads Volume 20 Issue 2

threads volume XX | issue II

uc berkeley’s muslim student publication

welcome to threads, volume XX issue II

board

aamna abbasi editor-in-chief muzamil samimi managing editor

zahra ansari creative director javairia abbasi print editor

maryam awwal print editor sania elahi photo editor

aliza siddiqui web editor sara elzeiny web editor wissem bouali finance director

kizal butt marketing director rabeeah ali social media director

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table of contents 5 editor’s letter 6 design thinking

38 the wrong kind of muslim

18 my resistance is olive oil

42 confessions of a brown girl

22 slipping toward ethereality

48 december in andalusia

28 sexual harassment and the muslim community

56 land of the adhans

32 take a walk

60 #justmuslimgirlthings

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Readers,

This issue is dedicated to our collective struggles. To commemorate all we have been through. To celebrate where we are now. To be hopeful of where we will go.

Thank you, Aamna Abbasi

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design thinking words | alaa elshahawi, revati kapshikar

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he phrase “design thinking” is now ubiquitous, repeated as a mantra in fields traditionally thought to be far from the aesthetic origins of design. From the shape of sports cars to the layout of city streets, from the grip of the Hydroflask to the style of subway signs, we are finally beginning to accept that the look and feel of a product is not just an addition to, but an essential part of, its usability. Tim Brown of the IDEO school of design has put forth a definition that has been accepted as what this process encompasses: "Design thinking is a human-centered approach to innovation that draws from the designer’s toolkit to integrate the needs of people, the possibilities of technology, and the requirements for business success."

We write now to expand on this definition and use Don Norman’s principles from his book The Design of Everyday Things to evaluate how design thinking is being used today and what processes can be used to apply it in the lives that we live and the diverse careers that we enter.

To highlight the importance of design thinking, we discuss the consequences of its absence in two incidents cited in Norman’s book. In the first incident, Norman shuns criticizes the placement of the “return” and “enter” key for they both had opposite effects on the work that an analyst was entering into a software program. As a result, operators frequently deleted all the work that they intended to save. However, the problem was not diagnosed for months, as the users blamed themselves for their inability to follow what were, admittedly, the written directions. Though this was a human error, it occurred as a result of a design mistake and should thus be treated as such. In the second incident, pilots had an inertial navigation system (INS) on board that could only be programmed at the departure airport. If it was found to have an error in programming, pilots would have to return to this airport—they were also threatened with punishment if they returned. This resulted in many emergency landings, and instances of pilots knowingly flying with faulty navigational equipment.

The role of design thinking is thus to eradicate human error and mitigate the influences of social pressure that inadvertently lead to human error.

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judging a book by its cover Regarding the aforementioned incidents, it is natural to ask why the producers of the “return” and “enter” keys and the INS did not think their respective problems through.

Broadly speaking, you might (read should) be wondering why producers of products think they can avoid design thinking when developing their product. Dismal as it may be, the answer to this question is quite simple: consumers enable producers’ lack of design thinking. *** We are raised to never judge books by their cover. While this concept of sidestepping visual appeal to appreciate the core of a product, person, or ideology should still be championed, it has led to the employment of lazy and lackluster design by hegemonic products that exploit consumers. A hegemonic product is one whose utility is so great that its consumer demand with respect to design is almost perfectly inelastic (more on this concept later). Perhaps the most notable culprit of consumer exploitation in this regard is Craigslist.

“Never ever have I ever met someone who doesn’t use or know what Craigslist is.”

You don’t hear this statement while playing Never Ever Have I Ever for two reasons: 1. Just no.

2. It’s not true.

As the sixteenth most visited website in the US with 60 million monthly visitors, Craigslist is well-aware of its hegemony. A product created in an era with no heed to visual design with this much traffic (read demand) has no incentive to invest in good design. Is Craigslist’s design functional? Yes. Can it be better? Yes. Will it? Probably not (or at least it’s shown no indication of doing so). Why not? Because consumers continue to use Craigslist, evidenced by its traffic.

Consumers are responsible for holding companies accountable for their design practices. Having a good product is not sufficient—functional design must be accompanied with smart, appealing, innovative, and straightforward design. The employment of design thinking to produce a product with these design features should not be a luxury to be indulged in by the producer at will. It should be a necessity, just like any other core feature of a product.

Good design is necessary. Good design is necessary. Good design is necessary. We need to create environments that foster, promote, and require good design. Consequently, it is our duty to judge books by their cover.

On that note, we direct your attention to examples of good book cover designs with the intentions of illustrating the magnitude of the effects of good design, produced by design thinking. When judging a book (or anything) by its cover, it is first essential to

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establish standards. What makes a good cover design? To keep this piece below the word count limit, we boil down our standards to the following: a well-designed book cover is one that is smart and telling, all while maintaining just enough mystery about it to lure a reader into reading it. Now that we’ve established our standards, we may judge.

The above covers are both for the novel Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. The first time I crossed paths with this book (left) was for an assignment in high school.

I wasted a trip to my local Barnes and Noble where I decided I would not buy it, solely due to its cover.: drab, lacking, and unappealing. At the time, I instead opted for Sparknotes' clean interface to complete my assignment. The second time I crossed paths with this book (right) was while browsing Amazon. The cover looked promising: clean, sharp, and mysterious—everything a book cover ought to be. I ordered it, read it, and loved it even more after realizing that the cover design is a nod to the following line in the book: “The old wintry branches of chandeliers in the room where the mouldering table was spread, had been lighted while we were out, and Miss Havisham was in her chair and waiting for me.”

Publishers have created a catch-22 for readers: miss out on great content due to bad design or get over it and accept bad design. This puts readers in uncomfortable predicaments and it’s quite frankly nothing short of barbaric on the part of publishing houses. Publishing houses, along with other producers, get away with not incorporating design thinking in their product because consumers have demonstrated that they will turn the other cheek in the face of poor design.

A design revolution must ensue such that consumers are no longer taken advantage

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of in such an inhumane manner, and it all starts with the consumer. Consumers must practice maintaining high design standards and practice not blaming themselves for poor design implementations.

Below are other exemplary book covers. I will not waste words explaining why these covers are products of design thinking for their design is self-sufficient in doing so.

Correspondingly, we leave you with a general rule of thumb when it comes to setting standards. Note that, despite their excellent design, the cover designs did not surpass or exceed our standards. Setting standards that are exceedable is useless and may breed laziness, as previously discussed. Set standards such that they are only ever met, never exceeded.

designametrics Economics is less the study of the economy as much as it is the study of tools used to analyze the economy, and these tools can be applied to any field. Consequently, designametrics: the economics of design. A fundamental concept in economics is that of equilibrium, a unicorn state of the economy in which supply is equal to demand. Abstracting this concept, equilibrium is a point of balance in a model. Every field utilizes the concept of equilibrium. Architects build structures that are functional, well-built, aesthetically-pleasing, but within budgetary constraints—a four-dimensional equilibrium. Professors and teachers design lectures such that they convey the most amount of information within a time constraint, while retaining students’ attention. Etcetera.

Consider the following models, visualizing the relationship between consumer demand and producer supply with respect to design quality. The figure on the left models what the market of products should look like: products with bad design quality are met with no consumer demand; consumers only demand products with high design

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quality. Consequently, most producers produce at a high design quality level. However, the market actually looks like the figure on the right: most consumers settle for products with poor design quality resulting in few products of good design quality.

In the previous section, we proposed a solution for transforming the market to be less like the right and more like the left: consumers need to judge books by their covers and hold producers to a higher standard. In technical terms, consumer demand must be perfectly inelastic, or only present at a level of high design quality.

We now shift the perspective from that of the consumer to that of the producer. How is design thinking employed such that a product falls under the category of good design? The following should be kept in mind when design thinking: 1. Marginal improvement: A similar product already exists. Look to those products for inspiration. Study existing products' pros and cons and identify how to eradicate those cons via design thinking. If a product does not marginally improve upon another, it has little use value (we spare you a Marxist rant) and can spare the world its existence.

2. Usability: Design thinking is accommodating of all individuals, especially the busy and impatient. If it takes more than a few minutes to figure out how to use a produc, it is in need of improving.

3. HCD: Human centered design. Keep in mind the goal, not the product.

The goal is to make it easier for parents to keep track of their kids' after school activities, not to build an app; to make the road safer for drivers and pedestrians,

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not to build a self-driving vehicle. Identify who the product is being designed for and design around the subject. Design thinking for humans should be sophisticated, even if the end product is simple. This concept will be expanded upon in coming sections.

This list may certainly be expanded, but these are arguably the most important for they form the core of a product. toolkit Black Sharpie's and sticky notes are to designers what paint and brushes are to a painter. There's something about the sharp, bold, permanence of black Sharpie and mobility of a sticky note that helps bring ideas to life. The idea here is less the black Sharpie and sticky notes (alternatives are certainly usable) and more to document the process. Design thinking is interactive and the designer must engage with it; documenting the process forces such an interaction and initiates the design journey.

Designers block? Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, Behance­­—sources of inspiration are endless. Still stuck? Feedback is a designer's best friend. Learning to receive feedback well and grow from it, rather than receiving it as a personal attack, is an essential skill.

On that note, it is essential that designers also be able to debate in a logical manner.

Someone will always disagree. Being able to understand the difference in opinions, reconciling said difference, and moving forward with decision-making does not save designers from the often-frustrating ideas they are forced to implement by others with say in the design process. However, having these skills enables designers to articulate their position and help others understand their reasoning, which sometimes plays out in the designer's favor. Sometimes. kanye west With the basics of design thinking laid out, from the root of the problem, to what to keep in mind, to the necessary tools, we now direct your attention to the epitome of good design: Kanye West.

Kanye West is not the son of Dr. Donda and Ray West. Kanye West is not the husband of Kimberly Kardashian West. Kanye West is not the father of North and Saint West. Kanye West is not Jay-Z's "it's complicated." Kanye West is not a rapper.

Kanye West is a brand, a lifestyle.

Kanye West is a physical manifestation of good design—not just visually or acoustically, but in everything he does. When considering case studies of good design to derive inspiration from, look no further than Kanye West.

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Kanye West models his work around his life. It is not necessary to like his music or Kanye himself. But his strength of consistency across all aspects of his life make him an undeniable emblem of good design. What is visualized when listening to Kanye's music? His fashion line, Yeezy. What is heard when observing his fashion? His music.

It is difficult to explain in words how and why Kanye West is the epitome of good design. Partly because the word count limit is fast approaching. Mostly because Kanye West is meant to be experienced. Good design is not meant to be seen, or touched, or figured out. It's meant to be felt from the heart, and experienced by the body. Kanye West is not heard or seen. Kanye West is felt.

Dimitrios Kambouris

industry analysis + context We now introduce the a more technical elements design thinking, explored through case studies. Brilliant examples of holistic design thinking can be found in Silicon Valley—these firms make tradeoffs between technology possibilities, business strategy, and user needs and provide a dynamic sampling of strategies and results. robinhood We look first at Robinhood, the financial technology startup that is driving the digital investment revolution and the first financial application to win the prestigious Apple Design Award. Robinhood’s clean, content-centric application simplifies the complex process of navigating the financial markets. Their stated mission is to democratize access to the free market and this is done by removing commissions on trades. However, their intuitive design correctly suggests that information accessibility might be just as important as financial accessibility in encouraging millennial investors.

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We evaluate the design on the following criteria:

1. Form and color: The colors in the application are limited to white, black, green, and red, and each one conveys meaning. The background is white when the stock markets are open and black when they are closed. Stocks are green when you have positive returns, and red when you have negative returns. There are no scroll bars, pop out boxes, or visual separators—this keeps the layout clean. The typography is reminiscent of the iOS fonts and is clear and legible.

2. Navigability: Streamlining the visual design and experience helps to clarify the capabilities afforded by the application. The site map has only two layers— the initial portfolio view, and a company-specific view. You start out with a graph showing how your portfolio has performed, with daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly toggles. A search bar allows a search for companies that can then be added to your watch list. The company view has an identical graph to the portfolio, along with security statistics and links to news articles. The buy/sell action buttons are clearly marked and the flow to making a purchase is simple and thoughtfully executed.

3. Irreducible simplicity: Onboarding to the application takes less than five minutes, requiring you to just connect your bank account. Robinhood lets you execute your first market order without any forms or questions, so you see how easy it is to complete a transaction. The application asks for questions regarding finances and income that are pertinent to tax records only before the second transaction. This allows for a delightful onboarding experience that doesn’t intimidate the user -- only after the user has tried the functionality out and is excited about the simplicity does the application demand necessary informa-

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tion. The goal here is to simply buy and sell stock. Robinhood’s application does nothing more, but it also does nothing less. It doesn’t provide financial advice or strategy, but it delivers a strong, flexible interface for managing the transactions in a portfolio.

4. Business impact: Robinhood passed the 2 million user mark in April of this past year. As of June 2017, they are adding over 100,000 users per month and have saved users over $500M in fees. Most recently the company has closed a Series C round of funding valuing their company at $1.3 billion. This disruptive growth shows that the application addressed an unanswered business need and has also shown itself to have business value in the competitive fintech space.

There are two features I believe would add value to the application. One would be the option of seeing your portfolio graph as an overlay of independent portfolio member contributions. Sometimes when I open the application to have lost or gained a significant amount of money, I need to check the stocks in my portfolio one by one to identify the biggest loser or winner. At the very least, there should be a way to see the biggest contributors to the change in your portfolio. Another would be a native reader for the articles that are linked. Since Robinhood offers no financial advice of its own, there is no in-app content that needs to be surfaced. Whenever users are doing research from the application, the articles listed will open in the mobile browser, which becomes a jarring and unpleasant context switch. Robinhood developers should take care that future functionality doesn’t come at the expense of intuitive simplicity. human-centered security The security discipline has foiled the rise of human-centered design in software development. Even as we seek to make our user-experience flows and touchpoints delightful and perceptive, we expect human beings to generate and remember a different random sequence of arbitrary characters every time they access a new application or website. This goes against every aspect of memory retention that humans have been determined to have and results in bad passwords, reused passwords, no passwords, and passwords written out on Post-It notes stuck to the computer.

There has been a new emphasis on longer passphrases that are harder to guess and easier to remember and a rise of inexpensive two-factor authentication processes for every device. But we can definitely do better.

Next, we look at UnifyID, a self-styled human-centered security startup that has made its mark as the runner-up at TechCrunch Disrupt Battlefield 2016. UnifyID corroborates a username/password mechanism with other data that can be obtained from a phone to verify identity. A phone has firmware like an accelerometer and a GPS that can be used to determine what your typical behaviors are. The company then uses this data as input into an ML process that builds a profile of each individual in the system. UnifyID is available as an iOS application/Chrome extension that the company claims is accurate 99.99% of the time. The idea here is that you could

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walk up to a computer or pick up your phone and immediately start using it without any sort of sign in process, and walk away without logging out. You don’t need to notice or think about it, which is a hallmark of good security and good design. This is what security needs to look like to be used correctly by the general population.

Apple’s dual TouchID and FaceID are other excellent examples of moving away from the archaic password. Not only are these more secure than a four-digit pin on a cell phone, they require less user interaction in the trigger. Instead of an initial physical press to display the lock screen, followed by four different touches in four different places on the screen, TouchID requires one touch in one place with any one of my fingers. With FaceID, I can simply look at my phone to unlock it. Both these companies are using machine learning technology that takes advantage of high-quality firmware that is built into our machines to simultaneously make our devices more secure while decreasing the amount of thought and effort required. technology product management As a product manager, lack of a rigorous HCD approach can lead to the kinds of spectacular failures that the market has seen, such as Snapchat Spectacles and Google Wave. There are numerous frameworks that work -- I’ll present the British Design Council’s Double Diamond as an industry standard and then discuss how I’ve defined it to meet my own needs.

The Double Diamond is a structured design approach to tackle challenges in four phases: 1. Discover/Research—insight into the problem (diverging) 2. Define/Synthesis—the area to focus upon (converging) 3. Develop/Ideation—the potential solutions (diverging) 4. Deliver/Implementation—solutions that work (converging)

In the diverging phases, an open mind and a breadth of ideas is necessary. In the converging phases, ruthless prioritization and measurable specificity is required. This expansion and contraction can be repeatedly followed to make sure that the right problem and the best solution are being identified at every step of the way.

Using this as a guide, I’ve outlined in more specificity the steps I take when addressing feature development or improvement.

1. SWOT analysis: Take a broader look at the strengths and weaknesses of the product and the larger company, and the opportunities and threats that exist in the space. This sets us up on the right track for categorizing and classifying action later on.

2. Target personas: Identify the user that you are trying to optimize the experience for. While playing to a general audience may seem intuitive, Gartner’s Adoption Curve indicates that an optimized use case for a niche audience will lead to the early adoption that is necessary to achieve mainstream growth later on.

3. Current experience: Outline what the current experience is like for the persona that you have selected. What are their uses cases? What is the current flow from start to finish for the use cases that you identify?

4. Pain points: For each of the steps in the current experience, identify the bottlenecks and areas that could use improvement. A good place to start is with Don Norman’s seven stages of action. Pain points can arise at any step across these two bridges around how to execute an intended action or why the result was different was the intended result. User testing or data can also surface bottlenecks or dropoff points in a flow or process. Also establish a goal: what should a solution accomplish for the specific problem?

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5. Competitors: This is a point of discussion for many designers. Some find inspirational starting points in the work of their competitors. Others advocate a design approach that looks inward for core competency driven development and builds on a specific company’s differentiation factors. I feel that while you should always design for your strengths, it is important to keep your eyes open to how similar problems are being solved in your competitive space.

6. Ideation: Use the constraints, strengths, problem statement, and user goals to guide the ideation process. For each pain point, brainstorm design, business, and technology solutions.

7. Opportunity assessment: Compare the solutions and analyze the tradeoffs of each one. Evaluate based on appropriate axes -- a couple important ones include technical effort, cost, cannibalization of existing products, market size, impact, and appeal. How well will this solution address the goal you’ve outlined? Select the best option.

8. Metrics: An often-overlooked part of the design process is evaluating how well your design is doing in practice. Establish metrics before launching or testing to know what success looks like.

9. Prototype + launch Think carefully about what minimum functionality needs to exist to validate your design or hypothesis. Launch fast and start looking at data immediately.

10. Iterate: You might have selected the wrong problem or the wrong solutio You might have made an incorrect assumption about your target audience.

Look through the data and conduct user interviews to uncover these mistakes.

Iterate and relaunch.

— Revati Kapshikar is a graduating senior double majoring in EECS and Economics.

She will be at UBER as a product manager in the coming fall. Alaa Elshahawi is a graduating senior majoring in Economics. She will be at PwC as a data analyst in the coming fall. Revati and Alaa met in an econ history class where they both paid more attention to how poorly designed the course was than the actual content itself. After getting B+’s in “one of the easiest econ classes,” they remained friends and continued to take classes together while continuing their lackluster study habits. Throughout the course of their friendship, they projected their grievances to one another and came to the realization that everything they bitched about was due to bad design. Wanting to better the system for generations to come, they attempted to teach a DeCal addressing these issues, but the process of applying to teach a DeCal is also plagued by bad design. Consequently, this think piece was produced to raise awareness of the fallacies of bad design.

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words | anonymous photos | maysoon suleiman

my resistance is olive oil

My resistance is pure, rich olive oil.

My resistance is the hummus and zaatar (mix of Palestinian herbs) that I eat for breakfast. It is my tatrees (traditional Palestinian embroidered) dress and the Mahmoud Darweesh poetry that I use as a guideline to dictate my day-to-day life.

My being is a product of resistance—a struggle against attempts at ethnically cleansing and eliminating a people that refuses to surrender. A struggle against the ongoing colonization of Palestinian land and the elimination of Palestinian people.

A struggle against extremely violent and even more corrupt, non-physically violent tactics.

It is important for me to explain what no Palestinian (justifiably so) will—the idea of ‘Palestinian paranoia’.

‘Palestinian paranoia’ is the idea that merely existing as a Palestinian brings up its own unique array of struggles and fears. For example, as a Palestinian, you are often raised being told that you should avoid discussing politics or partaking in activism, because of the potential for Zionist threat to reveal your identity and put you on a blacklist.

Being Palestinian means that in job interviews, answering “where is your family from?” is not as simple as small talk. Instead, it is anxiety, worry, and your mind races as it ponders “Do I tell them? Should I lie? I wonder how they feel about Palestine. Is this worth risking an opportunity for an interview that I worked so hard to even be considered for?” Being Palestinian means that just stating your ethnic identity carries a label of “controversial” in the minds of many.

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It is hard for me to understand that proudly representing a Palestinian flag on my t-shirt has the potential to brand my name onto a list that will prohibit me from ever going back to the homeland that has defined my identity and brought me the greatest sense of freedom. There is a curious irony in the fact that an occupied territory invigorates me with a feeling of liberation far greater than the “Land of the Free� that I was born and raised in has ever made me feel.

This idea of self-silencing presents a more complex conflict in itself because being Palestinian often means something beyond systematic pain and hardship.

To me, and to many, being Palestinian also means having a sense of fight, perseverance and unfaltering resilience that is seemingly ingrained in my identity. So when I am raised witnessing that I represent a people that refuses to bow down to an authority that holds incomparably greater power, wealth, weaponry, resources, media presence, and political influence, then naturally, I will accept a similar defiance in my own beliefs and practices. I cannot hide my Palestinian-ness. I cannot submit to an Israeli presence that aims to suppress my existence. In fact, I want to proudly scream my Palestinian identity to the world!

I was lucky enough that my parents were able to avoid the war and conflict when they immigrated to the United States but had I not been so lucky, I would have been one of the many young individuals living under occupation.

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The citizens of Palestine live under physical occupation, where they are forced to encounter check points between each neighborhood, monitored by Israeli soldiers who may or may not feel like granting them passage that day. These checkpoints are a site for miscarriages, maternal and child deaths, and the active separation of families. These checkpoints are an explicit reminder that your voice holds no power and your hopes for freedom only exist in your dreams.

Palestinians also live under a state of economic occupation, where the manufacturing of Palestinian-made goods is criminalized, and the purchasing of non-Israeli products is restricted—therefore leaving Palestinians with no option but to contribute to the same regime that actively seeks to eliminate their being.

Growing up, I never forgot that my parents were immigrants to this land. Because I served as a translator for my mother in every interaction she had with a potential employer, physician or Apple genius bar employee, I had an ongoing awareness that we were not welcome to plant our roots and flourish on American soil. However, this same repulsion and the “go back to where you came from”s are not one-sided.

My mother will tell you herself, as she has told me almost everyday as far back as I can remember, that she wishes she could go back to her home, too. She will grieve to you about the dreams she has of returning to the scents of fresh-baked pita bread and falafel. My mother yearns for the day where she could go back to a land where the Arabic dialect is a norm, as opposed to a misunderstood, stigmatized language that is all-too-often and ignorantly thrown into the same category as “terrorist.”

She will tell you about how strongly she holds onto memories of the Athan (Islamic call to prayer), permeating through the unpaved yet familiar roads.

You want to be proud of your Palestinian identity because being Palestinian is a beautiful thing, but then you're reminded of the need to silence expression of yourself. This paranoia and complex contradiction weighs heavily on the mind and heart.

My existence is resistance and I choose to thrive in the most profound existence, defining my own boundaries and limitations.

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‫ أن أكون كما ال يريدون لي أن أكون‬:‫حريتي‬ ‫محمود درويش‬

my freedom: is to be what they don't want me to be mahmoud darwish

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slipping toward ethereality words | aliza siddiqui photos | sania elahi, zahra ansari Dreams have always held a high level of seriousness for me; I give as much meaning and significance to them as I give to 9/11 and remember them as well as I remember 9/11. Despite having a poor imagination, I have always had creative, engaging, and—more often than I would like—disturbing dreams. In my case, the quality of dreams compensates for their infrequency; they’re so vivid and distinct that I remember them almost naturally—if they were still a part of my memory by the time I woke up.

One of my many dreamscape scenes has been one of helplessness disguised in the form of physical disability. In this droll dream, the focus was on color and symbolism. Every object, picture, and pigment was juxtaposed between the opposing colors of black and white. The walls, floors, ceilings, wallpapers, and backgrounds were all bleached white, but the clothing, hair, and even the sable chair I was glued to were all an inky, alarming black. Someone was ushering me through this school building as if I was on a personal tour, guiding me by the two cylindrical handles on my ebony wheelchair. I was familiar with the institution I was at—it was the American International School of Muscat or TAISM. In reality, I had ‘attended’ this school in the Sultanate of Oman for about four days - not consecutively, though for some reason my leaving certificate stated “two days.” Due to an extremely complicated personal situation relating to feminism, specifically the legal visa rights for women, I was forced to leave this school and return to California to attend my senior year of high school—in October. My recollection of this place when I had left—and returned—were filled with muddled, equivocal reactions of disappointment as well as relief. The person guiding my wheelchair had almond-shaped eyes, framed by coal-black, rimmed glasses with a maroon hue. The hallways I once walked through and the electric blue lockers I had

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gazed upon were lifelike in the dream; the only thing missing was the functioning of my own lifeless legs. The school was exactly as it had been when I was there: massively titanic in size, perceptibly exorbitant in price, and excitingly full of unimaginable opportunities—the hallucinatory equivalent of UC Berkeley’s Dwinelle Hall. What was most alarming in the fantasy was the binary contrast between black and white. At a school that lacked a universally instated uniform, how was it possible that every single high school student in the 12th grade still managed to don the exact same attire in the exact same dolorous shade of black? It was as if the dress code had been this version of yin and yang all along, or so it seemed.

Nevertheless, my wheelchair dream of immobilization did not match the eccentricity of my Halloween dream. It was one of

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my most atypical dreams, though the fact that something so ordinary as a mode of transportation could become important enough for my subconscious to actually dream about was not the reason why. The oddness had to do with the overall nature of the dream, not its subject. I had dreamt about other trains, airplanes, boats, cruises, and buses many-a-time long before.

But around the time of Halloween, the standard, slender, and smoky gray worn-out shape of the train that I so readily recognized appeared in the form of a mild nightmare. In the dream, it was seven in the morning; the sky was still shadowy and midnight blue and the birds had only just begun to chirrup their sweet dayspring tones. The only problem was, I was the only person on the entire platform. The train had already arrived, but I did not expect to go in; I didn’t want to, from what I saw. The doors to each individual car connecting the subway were wide open; in each car, there were children—ranging from young toddlers to innocent middle school children to confused teenagers, dressed in amusing Halloween costumes. The cars had no seats, so every child was standing, their blank expressions screaming of consternation and utter bewilderment. They all stared, their eyes focused directly on me, piercing though not petrifying. Quite frankly, I thought I was looking at the adolescent version of Sesame Street. It was, in one word, amusing.

However, the most unearthly and uncanny dream I have ever had was one of religious importance, one that I consider ‘ancient’—not only because it occurred to me in my “early youth years” of nine and ten, but because it featured inscriptions from the Quran, the religious book of Islam. I was in a place unknown, standing dumbfounded in a motionless world, where gravity had swallowed itself and where buoyancy governed the laws of being. In front of me were the divine Arabic words of the Islamic sacred book, magnified to be larger than life. There were no translations underneath the text—only the actual words—which contrasted with most of the Qurans I have seen and read from. Floating with me was my grandmother—or at least her voice was. I wanted to recite the Quran, and yet, I couldn’t hear myself. Was I only reading in my head? With this realization, I woke up, utterly baffled. It wasn’t a dream; it was an experience.

En masse, I think of my bizarre, idiosyncratic dreams as narratives soundly grounded in reality, most likely spurred by stress I—and many—feel on a constant basis at college.

Mental health initiatives, counseling, therapy, and awareness are all ubiquitously important at UC Berkeley and are growing

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increasingly impactful on campus, and yet these salient programs that seek to enhance the emotional—and thus, physical—well-being of students only help to create a pseudo-environment of normalcy. They envision a healthy environment of cheerful academic inquiry and research, despite the fact that, the more students learn about such efforts, the more explosions of anxiety and depression they face within the morose, atrabilious boundaries of their minds. The existential crises I have experienced since becoming a UC Berkeley student have played crucial roles in prompting my outré dreams.

Why doesn’t this traumatic feeling—this consciousness—of being trapped within an agonizing crucible become easier with time if the age-old adage of “time heals all” is genuinely true?

Why couldn’t flânerie and academic success go hand in hand?

Mais, c’est la vie, ma chérie. (But, such is life, my dear.)

Joan Didion, the author of Slouching Toward Bethlehem, a collection of essays about her time in California during a counterculture movement (which poses a provocative contrast to today’s rising counterculture, particularly exhibited the political climates at UC Berkeley), wrote in her preface: "I went to San Francisco because I had not been able to work in some months, had been paralyzed by the conviction that writing was an irrelevant act, that the world as I had understood it no longer existed. If I was to work again at all, it would be necessary for me to come to terms with disorder."

Echoing Joan Didion’s powerful sentiments, I appreciate dreams because they allow me to escape the dreadful, harrowing veil of reality, add endurance to my life through their eldritch yet mirthful qualities, and transform existing meanings to novel implications that yield more acceptability. If I had the choice to dream at all, to pick and select the exact nature of my dreams, it would be necessary for me to come to terms with the thought-provoking traits that they often hallmark as trademarks, and to give up my free will in the decision-making process, because I would not wish any facet of my Seussian dreams to be any less uncanny, inquisitive or inspiring than what they already are.

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sexual harassment and the muslim community words | hana qwfan

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hen you first hear someone say the words “sexual harassment”, you probably think of the harassment girls face on a college campus or at frat parties. But how many of us think of it happening somewhere bigger than that? Closer than that? Instead of the predator being in some dark alley near a nightclub late at night, he might be someone the victim once considered a friend. Instead of the victim always being “too talkative” or “leading others on”, they might be fully clothed and concealed by the crowd. You’ve probably already heard of the stories in Hollywood, from Harvey Weinstein to a multitude of others. Some of you may have even read Mayim Bialik’s oped in the New York Times on the Weinstein accusations—which mirrors the false reality the Muslim community has constructed on sexual harassment.

It’s easy to reduce sexual harassment to only sexual desires and attraction. Yet in reality, sexual harassment stems from the subconscious upper hand men share in the gender power struggle.

In pre-Islamic Arabia, the way a woman dressed was different among various families and tribes. Women of lower status, such as servants, were not allowed to veil. Similarly, women of higher status from respected family tribes were required to wear it1. This division of status, visible by appearance alone, was one of the contributing factors for sexual harassment and rape during this time. Although it is recorded that all “respectable women” were seen as property, the tribal protection these women had within society gave them the power compared to unveiled, lower-status women.

Yet the women who didn’t veil were not considered victims due to their “lack of modesty”. Rather, they were subject to this mistreatment because of their low status and lack of power. Samina Ali—a prominent author, activist, and contributor to HuffPost—mentions in her Ted Talk the many objections to servants wearing the veil once the hijab was brought down to be worn by all women during the rise of Islam2. She argues that the hijab is meant to fit the woman’s function or occupation, as well as the overarching standard for her society. If we look at where Islam originated, in the Middle East, it can be said that the hijab was brought down to protect all women; not to hide their sexuality but rather to make the slaves and upper-class indistinguishable.

So how is this relevant, especially if most of us can agree that pre-Islamic Arabia was barbaric compared to the standards we have today? As a prac-

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ticing Muslim, I do believe that Islam solved some of these issues, and has the potential to solve all of them—if implemented correctly. The Middle East, as well as the United States and the majority of the world, are still in the loop of patriarchal society. Some of the human rights we fight for today can still be considered “barbaric”. When we criticize the way women are treated for wanting to go to school, or wanting to drive, we should also criticize the casting couch in Hollywood, or the way women are catcalled as they walk across the street. Is it really any different? Or is it only different because we’ve found new excuses for it?

Patriarchal society is not a product of religion. It is a force so old and entrenched that many of us don’t think about in our everyday lives. But it is also reformed, though it seems to be only an inch of pushback by the decade. Patriarchy influences the way power is distributed, and in this case, the power is given to men— some who never asked for it, and some who are willing to abuse it.

Whether it is North America or Asia, the Middle East or Africa, the one common misconception about sexual harassment follows where patriarchy sets, and that is believing that sexual harassment stems from sexuality. If that were the case, then why is it that men can also be victims to sexual harassment, when expressing their sexuality is encouraged? This even includes Muslim majority countries, where predators might be Muslim by name rather than action. The truth is, society continues to reinforce this power dynamic by favoring men over women and white over black. And unless we work to change it—unless there is a consensus regarding the root of the problem, this power imbalance will only grow stronger.

So who makes up the predators? Who exactly has the power? Well, it can vary depending on the relationship. It can be a work colleague, a religious leader, a family friend, or even a family member. We have to understand that they can be anyone, and that their power and close ties to the victim can no longer be an excuse. And when there is stability in their position of power, they find no discomfort in mistreating and abusing others.

Our victims were not harmed because of what they didn’t wear (that would supposedly protect them). Our victims were harmed because a lot of us assumed that victims can only fit one mold - and as a result, we failed in protecting the rest. Whether it is Bialik or those who agree with her, it is much easier to assume that good looks and open skin are the spark to the fire around us. It’s easier to tell someone to put something on, than to address the inequality across all boards.

By the time you all read this, we may have forgotten about

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the sexual harassment stories arising in Hollywood. The media buzz will have died down, compared to when I started writing this in October. But these issues will not be anywhere near resolved. They might seem distant, but chances are that many people in your life have dealt with this—as in suffered, but buried the pain. It’s easy to dissociate and think of what goes on in Hollywood as some foreign part of a world outside our own. It’s easy to use our religion or the hijab as a security blanket. But that only keeps our secret hidden for a little longer. Our Ummah shouldn’t suffer in silence and be forced to bury the pain.

The longer we continue to push this false sense of security, the harder it will be for victims within our community to speak out. The fear of a smeared reputation stems from the rumors and gossip we allow to change the victim’s story. Part of this is due to the lack of research and evidence on the number of Muslims who face sexual harassment and abuse. The other part is due to the taboo on talking about sex (including what constitutes as consent and what doesn’t). The most prevalent part I’ve personally noticed is the fear of being blamed. Whether in western culture or the Muslim community, victim-blaming seems to be easier to embed when the other option is directed towards those in power.

As an Ummah, I don’t know what exactly we can do to resolve this issue. But I do believe that there is a direction that God has paved for us. And as college students who search for knowledge, I think it is important for us to be fearless and dedicated to making a difference within our community. A good start would be to do more research. For those of you in the social sciences, such as psychology or sociology, I hope that we can study our community in order to address sexual harassment and abuse. The best way for us to learn and start a dialogue is through people inside of the Ummah.

For those of you who have faced abuse and harassment, suffered and concealed the pain, I hope that we can all learn from your stories. And even if you don’t share them, I hope that we, as an Ummah, can redeem ourselves in order to help each other back up. And if I’ve said anything wrong to appear disingenuous, please excuse my ignorance. I still have a lot to learn myself.

— I would like to thank Mahreen Alam, a representative at Heart Women and Girls, an organization that educates and supports women and girls on a variety of issues, including sexual violence and reproductive health, for being a source of information and for agreeing to an interview3. Her insight and advice is invaluable.

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Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam: Historical Roots of a Modern Debate (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), 14.

Samina Ali, “What Does the Quran Really Say about a Muslim Woman's Hijab?” (Nevada: University of Nevada, 2017), www.youtube. com/watch?v=_J5bDhMP9lQ. 3 Mahreen Alam was interviewed by Hana Qwafan. A full transcript of the interview may be found at threadsatcal.org 1 2

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take a walk

photos | sania elahi

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t’s easy to overlook the charm of our everyday surroundings. In my walks through downtown Davis, several sights stand out to me -- but I don’t always stop to appreciate them. One day, I retraced my steps to capture details that I usually miss. This is a collection of those sights.

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i float past you at Jummah and my salaams fall onto deaf ears on wednesday you ask me if i was even there because you swear you could not find me afterwards and i smile, make a joke, and reassure you but one week later i stop going and that is the week that you stopped asking me how i was doing the next week my scarf falls away and you notice that i dyed my hair maroon and ma’shallah how the color catches the sunlight and how you love the hair style and ohmygod you have to go pray

the wrong kind of muslim

words | kaylee hunt

i try to move my lips, to speak to say that i too am a muslim to invite myself to join you but you are five strides ahead of me and i could never catch up the next week i stop wearing my misbaha on my wrist you never knew why i always had them so close

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but it was because there were times when i had to pray for strength but more simply to hide the scars on my wrists from years of hollowness part of my identity that i never discussed with you because muslims don’t try to kill themselves but i had i had killed myself for 93 seconds but i had i had swallowed pills -- counting and crying -because the world would be so much better without me part of my identity that i never discussed with you because you didn’t want to hear it one week i stop waking up for fajr i have grown tired from the anxiety of someone discovering me tired of falling into a routine so that i can continue to pass as a muslim but my heart is empty and -every movement is so heavy and every whispered prayer sounds empty to me so i lay in my bed and dream of not having to hide these pieces of myself of letting the world see, my friends and family see the mosaic of my existence but all anyone sees is

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that i am muslim and a muslim cannot be queer a muslim cannot be pansexual so i must just be confused or going through a phase one week i stop saying salaam to every sister i see because it is not fair to assume that because she was born a womxn that she is a sister, what if what if she is referred to as they what if they are referred to as sibling what if i am limiting their existence why do we only say brother and sister but i realize that i am projecting and i would rather not have another man call me sister or have another aunty whisper when i try to explain gender, identity, and living non-binary finally i just stop i spend nights laying in bed and questioning why i chose this path when i could have continued to live easily never having to explain why i am anxious and depressed am queer and non-binary am unapologetic i chose this because i once felt free but i never realized that i was offering myself to the scrutiny of so many eyes to the judgement of the endless

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Ar Rahman, the Most Gracious Ar Raheem, the Most Merciful Al Ghaffaar, the Ever-Forgiving Al Fattaah, the Ultimate Judge

Al Latif, the Kind Al Khabir, the All-Aware

Al Wadud, the Loving, the Kind One Al Wali, the Protecting Friend

Al Waahid, the All Inclusive Al Ahad, the Indivisible

As Samad, the Eternal Refuge Al Barr, the Most Kind and Righteous

At Tawwaab, the Ever-Pardoning An Nur, the Light

Al Hadi, the Guide Al Saboor, the Forbearing, the Patient

but apparently i am the wrong kind of muslim

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confessions of a brown girl words | nilab habib photos | zahra ansari, sania elahi

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t is likely that you have only met a couple of people from North Dakota in your life, if any at all. It is significantly less likely that they are people of color. I lived in North Dakota for ten years of my life. How did my family and I, people of Afghan descent, end up in a midwestern, minimally diverse state like North Dakota?

My story begins in Mazar-E-Sharif, Afghanistan where I was born in 1997, only a year after the Taliban came into power and started ruling my country. About a year and a half later, my parents managed to escape, taking my older brother and I to Pakistan. Afghanistan was in the middle of a dangerous war, not an environment that anyone should be in. The Taliban were wreaking havoc all over my country and my parents knew we had to get out. Even going to school was a life and death situation - my parents could no longer take the risk, especially with two very young children. If we had stayed in Afghanistan, I doubt that I would even be here today, writing this piece.

I lived in Pakistan until I was about 4 years old. During our time there, my parents had begun the process of trying to move to the United States through a sponsorship program, which happened to be located in North Dakota. My parents knew that our opportunities were limited in Pakistan; they believed we deserved a much better life than the one offered to us there, and decided that we would move to America. My entire family was elated when they found out that a family had decided to sponsor us in North Dakota - and just six months prior to moving, my baby sister was born. Looking forward to a fresh start, the five of us officially moved to the US on September 1st, 2002.

Life in North Dakota was truly so simple, at least for my family and I. We lived a very comfortable and calm life for the simple reason that there was absolutely nothing for us do. My parents went to work and my siblings and I went to school.

There were about three other Afghan families there that we knew and we would occasionally get together, but most of the time everyone was busy with work or school. My siblings and I were the only brown kids we knew. It seemed like every other brown kid was way older than us or still just a baby, so we really didn’t have a lot of friends from the same ethnic background to hang out with. When I say “brown” I am referring to those who identify as brown and Muslim and in this case referring to other Afghans, Pakistanis, Palestinians, etc. North Dakota’s demographics were very limited; it was mostly white people with a few refugees here and there such as my family and I. And there were even fewer Muslims. Growing up, the only friends I had were white kids, and that was all that I knew. I was

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"What I like about being brown, besides our history and culture, is our struggle within it. Our parents’ and grandparents’ traumatic experiences has made our generation authentically determined and motivated, especially in regards to education and our careers. Their struggles and even our own, as inheritors of their trauma, pushes us to set and reach aspirations they may have never envisioned. I believe those struggles have already created fighters out of generations of Afghans who have yet to be born."

Mariam Ali, Senior

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never really around “brown culture”, which took a toll on my religious and cultural identity as a kid living in North Dakota. I never went to traditional weddings or cultural events because there were none. They just didn't exist. Due to the limited exposure, I was never able to appreciate my culture or religion. I think I was always embarrassed about who I was. I never told anyone I was from Afghanistan because “Afghanistan” was synonymous with “war” and I never told anyone I was Muslim because seeing that combination, people would have thought I was a terrorist -- at least according to the analytical thinking of my younger self. I had absolutely no concept of racism and discrimination other than this, and when my parents would mention being “discriminated against” at work or facing prejudice from people, I would just pass this off as them overreacting and being overly sensitive to the things their white co-workers might have said to them. In fact, every time my parents would mention discrimination in the workforce, I would disregard it because I subconsciously placed white people on a pedestal, thinking they were the best and could do no wrong, and it was my parents’ fault. It’s only now that I realize what a detrimental mindset I used to have.

Because of the lack of cultural identity North Dakota instilled in me, I was shocked, heartbroken, and extremely scared when my parents decided that we were moving to California in 2012. California has always been portrayed as this magical place filled with beautiful men and women wherever you go, and the high schools in the movies were always shown as the epitome of scariness, awkwardness, and intimidation. And because I was about to head into my freshman year of high school, all these fears of being unable to fit in and make friends were amplified. Convincing me to move to California was not an easy task for my parents, but culturally, I didn’t really have a say in where we got to move anyways -- and that’s how I ended up living in California after being in North Dakota for 10 years.

There were definitely more brown people in California than I had ever encountered in my 10 years in North Dakota, and I didn’t really knew how to feel about that; it took me by surprise. Beginning high school was not easy, but it wasn’t as difficult as I had imagined it to be. My primary fear was that I would not make any friends. I expected the school to be mostly white kids and I imagined becoming friends with them would not be too easy, being a brown kid from North Dakota. But it wasn’t as difficult as I had expected. Once again, my high school consisted of mostly white students, but there was definitely more diversity than I had ever had at my other schools - for once, I didn’t automatically feel the subconscious alienation I grew up with. For the first time in a while, I didn’t feel alone. I made friends pretty quickly, and it was easy to acclimate, which was shocking to me. Even at this point in my life, I was obsessed with fitting in with white people and trying to make sure that I would be accepted by them, a painful thing for me to admit today. Painful because I tried so hard to forget who I was as an individual, and when I was trying to acclimate, I was simultaneously trying to erase my culture and religion -- the essence of who I am. Even at this point I was still relatively oblivious to the realities of life and exactly what was going on around the world; issues involving immigration, gay rights, abortion, war. Maybe I chose to ignore it, I don’t really know. I was just so focused on my own life and the things that were happening with just me

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"Culture roots me wherever I go. I may be an Afghan living in America, but my culture makes me feel home. The socially motivated behaviors of my people being present in a place like America helps the whole process of growing up different. Thankfully my culture is portrayed through the most savory dishes and generous behaviors; I couldn't be more proud."

Barry Jahid, Sophmore

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that I didn’t take the time to understand life outside of me, or the injustices faced by my community and people of color in general. I don’t think it was until about junior year of high school that I really started becoming aware of life around me; I became “woke”. I am not embarrassed to admit this, but it was the Twitterverse that sparked my dedication and passion for social issues. It was gradual - I started becoming aware of the political climate and social challenges we all faced. I even started appreciating my culture and ethnicity more and was much more comfortable in expressing to others who I was and where I came from. But it wasn’t until I started college that my perspective on the world and how I fit into it changed.

I want to start off by saying that I will forever be grateful to my parents for forcing me to move to California. Not only have I been offered the most incredible and humbling experiences and opportunities since moving here, but I have become a better, more compassionate, and more aware human being because of it. Since I came to Berkeley, I have truly developed a passion for my culture and traditions and become an active member of our community. Like I said, I was never raised around brown culture, so when I came to Berkeley, even though the demographics were very disparate, the small communities of brown people made it feel like this is exactly where I belong. I am constantly surrounded by incredible and inspiring students who give me a lot of hope. There are so many incredible cultural associations on my campus that promote love of oneself and one’s identity and I am so blessed to be a part of one. I have never connected to my community in such a personal and meaningful way before. I believe that what sparked this connection was my intense dedication to learning about social issues. Connecting with my community and my brothers and sisters of color was not easy and it was not quick. It took me a while to understand exactly what communities of color face in this country and it took even longer to understand the struggles of Muslims, here and around the world.

To be in an environment where there are people like yourself makes the entire experience better. It gives you motivation, confidence, and encouragement and makes you feel like you actually belong and deserve to be there -- at least for me.

There is always this sense of family and belonging whenever I am with my brown community. That is what culture is to me. It is a sense of belonging, a community.

It is where you feel comfortable. It is the clothes you wear and the food you eat, yes, but it is also about the people you are surrounded by and the wholesomeness of that environment. I love everyone and will continue to love everyone but I have to admit, having people in your life that can relate to your daily struggles regarding your identity is something completely different. They understand you on a deeper level, making your connection to them much stronger, and there is nothing I would trade for that unique, irreplaceable relationship.

The person I am today was not the person I was five years ago. I used to be embarrassed about who I was and where I came from, but today I have such an intense appreciation for what I am and what I represent for my community. I just hope that I am able to continue to build on the connections that I have already made, as I get to learn more about who I am and the community that I proudly represent.

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"Being a person of color defines my identity and where I come from. It represents my Egyptian roots, allowing me to identify with other people of color and giving me a community to belong to."

Mohamed Sayed, Junior

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december in andalusia photos | zahra ansari

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ast December, I had the privilege of visiting Andalusia, the largest Andalusia is a region in south Spain that was once home to a prosperous province in southern Spain. Andalusia comes from the Arabic Muslim community during the Nasrid Dynasty. Its combination of Moorish word Al-Andalus, which refers to Muslim Spain, a region where Musand Spanish architecture, quaint balconies, cobblestone steps, and numerous lims ruled for over 700 years. Known as a center of learning and coopcats serve as a testament to the region’s charming nature, as well as a window eration between Muslims, Christians and Jews, at its peak Al-Andalus into its medieval, Moorish past. Last December, I had the opportunity to travel comprised most of Spain and Portugal. to various cities in Andalusia with my family. This is a collection of some of my favorite photographs I took from that trip.

Over 500 years after the fall of Granada, Andalusia still remains nothing short of captivating with its vibrant history, Moorish architecture, and numerous cats. This is a collection of some of my favorite photos I took from that trip.

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lands of the adhans

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photos | sania elahi words | adnan perwez

he world outside is orange.

As I step onto the balcony, I find my feet glowing softly in the dwindling light. Far above, the heavy Indian sun begins its slow descent. In its immense wake, the sky itself—thick with streaks of dying sunlight and deafening black swarms of crows heading desperately home—seems to quietly burn.

I walk to the railing and wait.

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The adhan of the East is not like the adhan of the West. Here in the West, our adhans have become personal, intimate, linked; they rise and fall according to the smartphone’s smooth, endlessly clockwork rhythm, issuing their calls from solitary speakers as soon as the internal watch turns (and yet—as the moderately embarrassed student in Chemistry class, or employee in the quarterly meeting can attest to—still somehow managing to catch us by surprise).

In contrast, in the ancient heartlands of the East, the only rhythm present is the tapping of your fingers as you wait for the first call to break forth. In your mind’s eye you can lightly sketch the scenes that must be playing behind the walls of the masajid—the old men rushing up the stairs of the minarets, the sparsely bearded young clipping on their microphones, the uncle by the side furiously pushing through the crowd as he demands to know where exactly the megaphone went.

Here, then, the adhan is communal, and so quintessentially human; with dozens of masjids packed together and no central core, no one knows when the first voice will rise, and yet all wait with that full certainty, even as the world seems to lay pregnant with expectation: for what has always been done, for what is inevitable, and so for what must come— Allahu’ Akbar, Allahu’ Akbar: Allahu’ Akbar, Allahu’ Akbar God is Greater. God is Greater: God is Greater, God is Greater!

The call has begun. For that second, when the first voice is still sudden and hanging in the sky and alone, a certain calmness settles over the town. Then, one by one as each masjid opens its speakers, the familiar rhythm begins to set in— Ashhadu an-La’ilaha il’ Allah: Ashhadu an-La’ilaha il’Allah, I bear oath that there is no god but God: I bear oath that there is no god but God, Now the first voice trembles and begins to fade and then is wholly lost, as two, then three, then seven, then fifteen others flood in from all sides. From each third or fourth building a different voice seems to issue forth—gruff or lilting, heavily accented or crisp, speaking the sacred words with sadness or beauty or simple unremarkable plainness. The God is Greater mix with the I bear oath, and the more cynical side of my mind whispers the sharp, wicked irony behind a statement attesting to the ultimate Unique being voiced with such difference and in such chaos— Ashhadu an-Muhammad-an’ Rasul-ul-Allah: Ashhadu an-Muhammad-an’ Rasul-ul-Allah, I bear oath that Muhammad is the messenger of God: I bear oath that Muhammad is the messenger of God, I’m straining to try and find the first voice I had heard, hopelessly lost as he is in this writhing sea of voices, when another call breaks forth. I swing my head towards it; it rises somewhere from the west, from a place just beyond my straining sight. The voice is delicate and sweeter and I register surprise that I’ve never heard

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it before—and though he is still at God is Greater, I’m closing my eyes and letting the rest of Muhammad is the messenger of God wash over me. It occurs to me the strange beauty behind a human’s name being chosen to be placed here, nestled with such finality in this Divinely-inspired call that reverberates ceaselessly from one side of the world to the other; that has been uttered incessantly, from one millennia to the next— Hayya ‘ala as-Salah: Hayya ‘ala as-Salah, Rise and come for prayer: rise and come for prayer, My eyes still closed, an image takes hold of me. I’m standing on the front lawn at home, feet on cold, wet grass, fingers stiff in icy air. The world is a deep dark blue— the predawn light of the Californian sun still far too faint to break night or cast warmth. Staring into that frozen, silent sky the realization that I will never hear the adhan at home is sudden and piercing: the understanding that the words of the call would not inspire hope but fear, here in this place of my childhood; that the desire to have the ancient voices settle over me, in their own unique American rhythm, is simply another token of the inescapable feeling of loneliness that so defines our lives as the children, the inheritors, of two worlds as different as these— Hayya ‘ala al-Falah: Hayya ‘ala al-Falah, Rise and come for success: rise and come for success, My heart aches with homesickness. I open my eyes to the dimming sky. The lamps of the masajid and houses, so unneeded a handful of hours ago, are rapidly becoming the only source of illumination. Set against the coming darkness, their light can—they must—only grow ever brighter and clearer—

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Allahu’ Akbar: Allahu’Akbar!

God is Greater: God is Greater!

Some of the voices are now coming to a sort of collective fade, with the callers that had begun earlier now falling silent. I’m still following the chant of that far-off caller with the curiously distinct, soft voice. As he pauses to catch his breath, I instead find myself quietly whispering the final words: the well-worn, familiar phrase at the core, the heart, of all that we are and are to be.

La ‘ilaha il ‘Allah.

There is no god but God. If there is a loneliness that comes after we truly utter these lines, then there is also a fierce freedom; if living by these words turns us into strangers in the world of men, it also reminds us of our belonging in a world beyond. In this sense it belongs neither to the East nor the West; and perhaps that then speaks to the true essence of our faith—the promise that it will burn brightly wherever the hearts, as long as there are hearts to be found.

There is no perfect ending; even as my call comes to a close, another still continues in its own flow and pace. The world is yet twilight, in all its endless, intertwining melding of darkness and light.

Above, the sky is empty—the sun has at last fallen from sight.

The crows, as always, have found their way back home.

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#justmuslimgirlproblems words | samiha uddin photos | zahra ansari

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justmuslimgirlproblems. This was the caption of my first instagram post, wearing the infamous dress, leggings, and cardigan getup.

When I first went dress shopping with my mom, I was not prepared for the battle I would have to fight. Every dress I picked up was either too tight, too short, or too skimpy. After an unsuccessful shopping trip, I did not know if I should be angry at my mom for enforcing a modest dress code , at my religion for giving her this idea, or at society for making mainstream trends so revealing. This is a struggle that every Muslim girl faces at some point in her life. Naturally, there is a huge spectrum in the interpretation of modesty, and different women prioritize different aspects of their faith. But, across all interpretations of modesty, maintaining a covered wardrobe in the west can be difficult. Halalifying is the act of adding certain components to revealing, mainstream clothing in order to make it accessible to Muslims. Whether it is a daily practice or a specific adjustment for going to the masjid, “halalifying� is a unique skill.

The selective display and advertisement of revealing trends at malls make a Muslim woman’s life complicated. Fortunately, mainstream fashion marketers have lately been acknowledging the growing demand for modest trends. Long trench coats, maxi dresses, and full-sleeve jumpsuits are becoming increasingly common on runways. Brands such as Mango, DKNY, and Dolce & Gabbana all recently launched Ramadan collections with seasonal abayas and other Muslim-friendly clothing. With this new audience, companies are trying to diversify their ad campaigns. H&M was the first brand to feature a hijab-wearing model in a campaign, and American Eagle and Nike soon followed. By doing this, these brands send a clear signal that modest fashion is important, and Muslim women are an audience worth catering to.

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"The key to expressing yourself is the word self; it's fine if you formulate self expression from outside influences but at the end of the day it should be something you are comfortable with and love. I formulate the way I dress around a certain system of values that comes from my personal life and religion.

When it comes to picking outfits I'm trying to evoke a certain feeling. I dress in a way that's really personal because I might be the only person that understands the thought process behind the way I dress."

Sarah Bellal, Junior

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Every day I try to conceptualize an outfit in my head.

I can go edgy, classy, chique, boho-- clothes are a way to have fun. I match my mood with my clothes and go wherever the wind takes me. But thank god now it’s so much easier to dress modestly. In 2010-2011 it was much harder to find long sleeve, loose fitted and booty covering shirts. But these past couple of years, I haven't had as much trouble finding hijabi friendly trends-heck I buy my hijabs from Target! My favorite way of halalifying would have to be wearing cocktail dresses under short shirts and dresses, it completely changes the look and sufficiently covers everything I need it to.

Rawan Khalili, Freshman

" I believe the way you present yourself can be shown through the way you dress. The more confident you’re in it, the more beautiful you feel! And don’t get me wrong, I have my sweats days, but the fun in dressing up with style, elegance and comfort always puts me in the mood.

And of course, always be bold."

Sumbal Ghafoor, Freshman

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Creative and outspoken Muslim women in the fashion industry are also making revolutionary changes of their own. In 2016, 20-year-old Halima Aden made history as the first contestant to wear hijab and burkini at the Miss Minnesota USA pageant. Born in a refugee camp in Kenya and having moved to the US at 7 years old, she quickly became famous after becoming a semi-finalist in the Miss Minnesota beauty pageant.

Aden soon after gained worldwide attention by becoming the first hijabi model to sign with the international modeling agency IMG Models. Numerous Muslim women from around the world are following Aden's path by challenging the stereotypes surrounding dressing modestly right from home.

Muslim public figures are using platforms such as Youtube and Instagram in innovative ways to break stereotypes about faith and dressing modestly. Noor Tagouri became the first Muslim woman to model for Playboy. Hijabi vlogger Nour Kaiss runs Souqina, an online Islamic marketplace which gives Muslim women a platform to explore, sell and trade modest fashion essentials. US Olympian Athlete Ibtihaj Muhammad created “Louella�, a fashion line that brings a vibrant new meaning to Islamic attire.

Traditionally, modest fashion has been deemed incompatible with western fashion. However, these Muslim women are inspirational, in that they empower their audience to use fashion as a means of self expression while still retaining their personal values. These woman at the forefront of the modest fashion movement teach us that modest fashion, and Muslim fashion in particular isn't just an assortment of loose and dreary abayas. It is vibrant, complex, and important.

Despite my first failed dress shopping experience, I no longer feel the need to blame society and Islamic guidelines as the reasons behind my limited wardrobe. Rather, I have come to love the challenge of constructing the perfect outfit that is trendy, but still showcases my personality and values.Every Muslim woman has a different way of navigating her identity through what she wears. Fortunately, the new abundance of sleeves and flowy skirts in fashion headlines indicates the beginning of a new age of female pluri-empowerment, in which a greater spectrum of styles are valued.

Muslim women play a pivotal role in the fashion industry.

They embrace what makes them different and inspire others to do the same. #justmuslimgirlproblems may not be so much of a problem, but rather the beginning of a revolution in the modest fashion movement.

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" Choosing an outfit that I feel confident in is the best way to start any day. I typically dress up by wearing a nice sweater or top depending on the occasion, a pair of black jeans, and a pop of color on the lips.

My favorite look would be an oversized cardigan, a few gold rings, a watch, curled hair, and a pair of my favorite jeans with boots or flats.

It’s simple yet classy, and suits multiple occasions."

Aleeza Sheikh, Senior

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"I don’t follow trends, not a fan of that. Trends come and go but my style stays consistent. My friends say my style looks kind of like the kids from the Avancemos Spanish textbooks because of my big jackets and block colors. Also shoes. Shoes make or break an outfit.

But whatever you do, don’t compromise your values. Your values shouldn’t change, but you can always change your style."

Nayaab Ahsan, Junior

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