Of Middle Eastern appearance - Page 2
From Griffith REVIEW Edition 15: Divided Nation
© Copyright Griffith University & the author.
Written by Randa Abdel-Fattah
IT IS ISLAM AND MUSLIMS WHO HAVE THE PUBLIC FASCINATED and on edge. Perhaps it is because of the increasing size of the Australian Muslim population. Do we accept people as Australians as long as we can manage the size of their minority status? The less noticeable they are, the more acceptable they become?
Time and time again, the values debate has centred on the role of women in Islam (perceived as oppressed) and the role of women in the West (championed as liberated). In the recent past, Prime Minister John Howard has called for "some Muslim migrants to learn English and treat women better in order to fit in with Australian values". He later defended himself, saying he was referring to a small section of the Muslim population.
The qualification was laughable. If the Prime Minister was so genuinely concerned about women's rights in religion, he should not have stopped at Muslims. What of Orthodox Jewish men who each day say, "Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who hast not made me a woman"? No headlines about that. And is Christianity so innocent? According to Ecclesiastics 25:19, 24: "No wickedness comes anywhere near the wickedness of a woman ... Sin began with a woman and thanks to her we all must die." Women are still struggling to be ordained in Australia's supposed utopia of female liberation. Our society is palpably silent on the exploitation of other religions to deny women their rights. And yet, when a Muslim displays a patriarchal, misogynist attitude, the public and our politicians are outraged, as though – God forbid – there are no sexist, chauvinistic non-Muslim men.
That our sports heroes have been embroiled in shocking scandals involving the degradation (and alleged rape and sexual assault) of women is forgotten. That there have been gang rapes perpetrated by Anglo-Australians (whose ethnic identity is never revealed) is ignored. That there have been reports of date-rape drugs being administered on cruise ships is met with silence.
The hypocritical way in which the Sheikh Hilali affair unfolded is a case in point, for whilst the Sheikh's comments were undoubtedly appalling, the reaction of the Prime Minister, politicians and the media exposed a superiority complex on the part of those who raise Western standards of masculinity as the model yardstick. The "us and them" card was whipped out. We respect women. We believe in equality. We stand for liberation.
They believe differently. Was the ferocity of public indignation elicited by the words in the sermon, or by the fact that the person giving the sermon was Muslim? After all, comments that imply that women invite rape by the way they dress have been made by members of the judiciary. Barristers routinely seek to tender evidence as to the way a rape victim was dressed in order to impugn her credibility. No public or political frenzy there.
The impact this marginalisation has on Australian Muslims frightens me. It is simply naïve to think that the political discourse and Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi! rhetoric is aimed at empowering Muslims – migrants and the Australian-born – or inspiring a sense of citizenship in them. It is no stretch of my cynicism to see the rhetoric and puffed up chests of "our values or go home" as an appalling vote-grabbing exercise. Stir up the politics of resentment under the pretence of a celebration of Aussie pride. The result is alienation, defensiveness and, amongst young Australian Muslims, confusion about one's identity and place in the only country one knows as home.
I KNOW OF MUCH CONFUSION BECAUSE I HAVE FELT IT it many times. The kind of identity politics that has been thrown up by the pressure to define Australian values and identity hit me straight in the eye on my trip to Sweden last year. I was invited as one of the authors to speak at the Gothenburg Book Festival in September 2006, and it was there that I befriended a Swedish journalist and rap artist who was raised in Sweden but born in Lebanon to a Kurdish mother and Lebanese father.
While we interacted with other international guests, one person asked Nabila: "Do you feel Swedish?"
"Yes," she replied. "Until you asked me."
When we reflected on her response later that day, I asked her: "What about your Kurdish and Lebanese background? How does it impact on your identity?" She gave me a nonchalant smile and then shrugged. "To be honest, I'm tired of defining myself. Am I Swedish? Am I Kurdish? Am I Lebanese? I'm all of these things, and none. Sometimes I'm more Swedish than Kurdish, sometimes I'm more Lebanese than Swedish. In the end I'm just me."
Her answer resonated with me. It so perfectly encapsulated an ideal space within which to position one's sense of self. As idealistic and naïve as her expression of self-definition was, I longed for the freedom to detach myself from hyphens and labels and the need to prove loyalty to one part of my identity at the expense of the other – something that seemed to underpin the values debate back home. At times I felt intensely Australian, my chest swelling with pride at the sound of an Australian accent in the streets of Gothenburg. Listening to Suad Amiry talk about her marvellous book, Sharon and My Mother-in-Law (Granta, 2005), I felt intensely Palestinian and craved to walk the streets of Jerusalem again. Eating at an Egyptian restaurant in Stockholm, I instantly connected with the owner and reminisced with him about the chaos and magic of Cairo.
The inconsistency in my emotions and devotions used to faze me. It used to arouse in me a sense of disloyalty and insincerity. But Nabila showed me that there is no weakness in loving many things with equal strength. I returned to Australia conscious, for the first time, of the utter fluidity of my identity. I don't need to feel "fully Aussie". Not because I am not of Anglo background (I don't believe Anglo equals Australian), but because it is an impossible demand of a country founded on immigration to expect a pure demarcation between citizenship and heritage. One's past, whether ancestral or as a migrant, necessarily shapes one's present. The issue is the place of this construction of self in Australia's future. ♦