The more I interact with other women from different backgrounds, the more I realise women are as diverse as the colours of a rainbow. We need to be allowed the freedom to choose what we are comfortable doing and wearing and there must be acceptance of our choice, even if it might be something different to what is expected of us.
As a Muslim woman, I straddle a social Pangea, quickly dissipating in separate directions. On one side are the values that I choose to live by, and the other is trying to (relentlessly) fit in so that they deem my values acceptable, which I do to feel whole and part of a greater reality. The drain of having to constantly explain myself is an emotional plughole.
As a woman who covers, I am the ‘good’ and de facto representative of the ‘bad and ugly’ and it falls upon me to prove the worthy side of my faith. The responsibility sits like an indigestible samosa poking its way down my pipes.
The Mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, has recently announced a £7 million ‘Let do London – Late’ drive to increase tourism and traffic to hospitality which urges businesses to promote after-work socials with highlighted activities including late-night jazz and cabaret in the crypts of St Martins in the Field, and a collaboration between the National Opera and the Fabric nightclub.
As much as I want to be part of the national fabric of society and do my part in rebuilding London businesses, campaigns such as this, leave me feeling like a girl stuck out in the cold, with no desire to partake in the highlighted activities because I am not comfortable socialising in those settings, and I cannot be the only one in a city of 9 million people.
The expectation of what women ought to enjoy seems to be narrowly defined – by patriarchal ideas – and I as a woman of colour and faith, do not have a say in the definition of the expectation. What if I don’t want to go to a club, not because I don’t want to contribute, but because the action does not align with the values that I choose to live by. Am I a second-class citizen because of that choice?
My viewpoint has not been considered or possibly sidelined in the corridors of power, and the realisation irks me. How are we, as Muslim women, going to get our voice heard not only for our own but for every woman (and man) who might choose to socialise in a different setting? We need to find ways of articulating our beliefs and what we wish to see without alienating our fellows outside of our faith.
As with so many things in life, I find myself being pigeonholed – not because of my inabilities – but because of an external projected expectation (of me) that I do not have a say in. For a city that prides its diversity, surely it can come up with socially inclusive activities that reflect the array of people that call London home. Rock climbing after maghrib anyone?
Aasiya I Versi
