#mixed marriage in islam

[i-cant-sing]

TT AU PART 13

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Part 11 is here. Part 12 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"I cant do this."

He rolls his eyes. "Not with that attitude." He runs a hand through his hair before nodding at you to follow him. You both enter the dance studio that his grandfather built for his wife inside the house because he loved her and well, he had the money.

"Silas, no one can learn ballet in a month." You state again and he lets out an exhale while Cadbury is bringing in about a dozen of ballet flats. "Even if your grandmother were to try and teach me, I still wont be good enough to perform in front of the queen-"

"Your voice is shrill and piercing and thoroughly unpleasant."

You blink at him before scowling. "A simple "shut up" would suffice, you know."

Silas glances at you. "What is this really about? Are you pretending to have low self esteem so I could offer you sympathy?"

"Excuse me?" Your tone sharpened. "Not that I like to remind anyone of the favours I do, but maybe you have forgotten that I literally saved your social image and status from being tarnished yesterday? Or did you forget about our Nikkah?"

Silas suddenly leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. You backed away, and he tilted his head slightly. "And I'm eternally grateful for that, missus, but the Nikkah saved your image too. Must I remind you that I converted to Islam too?"

"Because it benefitted you, not me." You spat out, only to inhale sharply as he gripped your chin firmly.

"As is the stipend I've been paying you, yet you fail to write a single article on the murders."

He pouted, feigning hurt. "Besides, are you saying I am not a real Muslim? That I have malicious intentions? Doesnt that go against your teachings- what is it? Not to judge someone?"

"I dont need to judge when its all so apparent-"

"Ah, good to see the love birds again!" Sarah's voice made you two pull away from each other. She clasped her hands as she made her way towards you two.

"Nana." Silas greeted her and kissed her cheeks. "Thank God you're here. My sweetheart is so concerned over this performance, even though I've assured her many times that she will be learning from the best. There's just no way she would mess this up!"

Sarah laughed heartily. "Stop buttering me up! And she is right to be concerned. Anyone would be nervous to perform in front of an audience, especially the queen!"

Silas wrapped one arm each around your and Sarah's shoulders, pulling you two close to him. "I only see a queen and a princess here. There's no need to be nervous. Just have fun!"

Just have fun? What kind of bullshit motivation is that-

Sarah smiled and nodded. "He's right, Y/n. As long as you're having fun, you're going to be just fine darling!"

-

Colin never thought he'd have to resort to day drinking.

And yet here he is, adding whatever he could grab his hands on and fill the flask with and mixing it in his coffee.

I need this. He reasoned with himself. Its not that much, just small doses to keep me sane when Y/n comes.

And then you do, in your Sherlock Holmes disguise, cheerfully greeting him before going to Will's office to work on the murder story.

He takes another sip of his coffee as he tries to process... well, everything.

Why was I attracted to you? Why am I still attracted to you even though I acted as a witness to your wedding with that rich bastard-

Another sip. He scowled before adding some more liquour, then he sipped it. Better.

Whats the best way to get over a crush? Crush? Is that what you were? An infatuation, a passing by fancy? So, how do I get over-

Wait. He set his mug down. You know that he and the boys all know that your marriage to Silas is a sham. You never really hid the fact but now they had all witnessed that it was just a rushed, possibly contractual marriage that Silas wants to save his ass.

So the marriage is bound to end. He doesnt have to get over you. No, not really. If anything, I should be spending more time with you. Yes. Yes! This way, when you and Silas end things, Colin will be right there to comfort you and support you! He needs to be the first man there after you dump Silas, lest anyone else gets ideas and wants to marry you as well.

Colin got up and managed to make his way to his boss's office without bumping into anyone. He's going to ask to work on the murder story and then you two will spend time-

"No. Keep working on the asylum story. We have enough people on the murder case." His boss dismissed him.

Colin slumped in his desk as he looked at the coffee mug. Eh, what the hell? He took another sip and another solution popped in his head.

If he cant help you with the murder story, then perhaps you can help him with the asylum story!

-

Silas handed you the invite.

"How did you get it so fast?" You asked, examining the small paper with elegant writing. It was the invite to the Gentleman's club, the one Henry owns. You'd asked Silas to get you an invite to what was an exclusive, members only club (when you tried entering the club, the men at the front laughed you out.)

Silas looked at you unamused, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Must I remind you who I am?"

A pompous ass?

"Of course not, my duke." You said mockingly, before raising a brow at him. "I suppose it would make sense for you to get easy access to shady places like this. You might be their popular customer."

"Oh darling, I'm popular everywhere." Silas shot back before dismissing you with his hand. "You can go now."

"What? You arent going to ask me why I'm going there?" You asked him. "Maybe you dont care that I am going there, but arent you worried about Mrs Fitzgerald or Duchess Y/n being in a place like that?"

Silas shrugged nonchalantly. "No." He leaned back in his chair. "I trust you not to screw up or entangle yourself in scandals. But even if you do end up in trouble, I will stand by you."

"You will?" You couldn’t hide the disbelief in your tone.

He nodded. "Of course. Look, I know we are in this... unconventional relationship and it appears that I couldnt care less about your existence, but you still carry my surname next to yours. And I wont allow anyone to disrespect what or who is associated with me. So, rest assured-" He leans forward, resting his arms on the mahogany desk and clasped his hands. "you have my support in all your endeavours, Mrs Silas."

A small smile formed on your lips. Maybe he's not so bad.

"Thank you, Silas- oh, can you drop me off there?" You knew he was going to leave in the carriage soon.

"No, I dont want my beautiful, pure bred stallions to go through those dirty streets. You can walk."

Jerk.

You stomped out of his study, not noticing the butler going in after you with the dessert you'd made for yourself last night.

"And what's this?" Silas asked him as he took a bite of the decadent, gooey chocolatey dessert.

"Uh, the duchess called it "brown-ies", but I've never heard of it before." Cadburry watched Silas ate it and sighed dreamily. "Do you like it, sir?"

"No." Silas pushed the empty plate towards him. "But I'd rather not have grandmother eat her cooking and say something. Bring me the leftovers."

"Y/n- oh, are you going somewhere?" Sarah asked just as you were about to leave.

"Yes, um- I'm going to meet my friends." Its not like you could tell her that you worked in the paper disguised as a man.

"Male friends?" She asked.

"Yes. My old flatmates." You watched her smile falter. "What?"

"Nothing, dearie. Enjoy your time with them! I hope you'll join us for dinner." You nodded and left while Sarah looked for her grandson.

"Where's Silas? I must speak to him this instant." She asked the maid, who informed her that the duke had went to play tennis just moments ago.

"Tennis?"

The maid nodded. "Yes. With his uncles."

Sarah was a little surprised to hear that. Not the tennis part, no. Silas is extremely well at any sport he plays, but she knows her sons arent ones who are good at athletics, let alone at a sport as strenuous as tennis.

An idea popped in her head.

-

You stood outside the Gentleman's club, watching people go in. Smoothing your hands over your black velvet dress, you made your way to the door.

After handing them your invitation, they let you inside and you saw a waiter handing everyone masquerade masks from a silver tray. Perhaps it was the theme for the club tonight, or maybe the club just gave masks to everyone to conceal their identities.

You were given a black and gold mask that covered the upper half of your face. As you adjusted the mask over your face, you heard a familiar voice.

"I need to see her. Now." You looked over your shoulder and saw Benjamin harshly whisper to one of the waiters. "She told me to come and I'm late as it is. Dont make her wait any longer!" You turned your head away as the waiter lead Benjamin into the club, all while Benjamin yanked a mask off the tray and pulled it over his head.

What is Benny doing here?

You quickly followed him inside, lest you lost sight of him, which you did as soon as you stepped into the main hall and were immediately stunned to your place at the sight.

Loud jazz music played by a band live, smell of smoke and alcohol filled the air and people. There were so many people, despite the club being "exclusive". And as your eyes scanned them, trying to spot familiar faces, your heart dropped at the realisation of what they were doing.

This was... an adult club. That kind of adult club, the one where there are absolutely no limitations on who is doing what with whom, all drunk on pleasure and drugs of course, no inhibitions. You spotted men with men, women with men, and more than one person pleasing another man.

Thats why this is an exclusive club, why they gave everyone masks. Because if word got out that a someone was here doing.... something that was generally a taboo and even punishable by both God and the law, well it would put them in huge trouble. People came here to let loose, to give in to their darkest desires.

What the hell is Benny doing here?

Averting your eyes, you looked for Benjamin and spotted him from afar, going into a room.

Oh God, please dont let it be a- please dont let sweet Benny be a depraved creep.

You waited for him to come out and after about 20 minutes, the door finally opened.

Benny walked out first, adjusting his mask again and then leaving. You're about to follow him, perhaps even confront him for being here when someone else walks out of the room as well.

A tall woman wearing a bright red, backless dress and a golden mask concealing her identity. But what really stood out were two things- first, her fiery red-orange hair that was styled into voluminous Hollywood waves. And second was her figure, her athletic built, or more specifically her broad shoulders and muscled arms.

Everything about this woman screamed important. And if it werent for her looks that demanded attention, then it was certainly her aura. People parted the way when she walked past them, all looking at her as if she was their saviour, an angel or divinity among men, which is ironic considering where you were.

You jumped as you felt an arm snake around your waist.

"What the hell?!" You looked at the culprit, who turned out to be a blonde woman drunk off her head.

"Oh dont be like that! Come on, love, let me show you a good time-" She tried to touch you again but you backed away before she could.

"No, thank you." You dismissed her, going back to looking at the red head.

"Prude." The blonde muttered before following your gaze. "Oh so thats what you're into? Well, put me in a red wig and we can play like that!"

"No, thanks." You huffed, eyes still trained on the woman in red.

The blonde scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, its not like you'd be able to sleep with the club owner."

"She's the club owner? I thought Mr Blackwood owned this place."

"He does, but Lady Scarlett there runs this place, from entertainment to management. She does it all!"

Lady Scarlett? Fitting name.

Pushing away the blonde one more time, you looked for Lady Scarlett, except you lost sight of her now. You scanned the entire ballroom, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Shit." You mumbled, turning around only to stumble back as you came face-to-face with her, or well... face-to-chest. She towered over you.

Her bright red lips smiled knowingly at you. "Looking for me?" She asked in a sultry voice, stalking towards you until you were backed up against the wall.

"N-no-" You yelped as she suddenly grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head.

You stared at her wide eyed as she leaned down, hovering inches away from your face and thats when it hit you-

Lady Scarlett is a man.

Of course! The muscled arms, the manly built, and now on close inspection, you saw the clean shave under the makeup too.

"Y-you're a man." You stated in disbelief, hoping to catch her or him, off guard. What even is he? A drag queen? A trans? You dont know if they existed in victorian era.

Scarlett tilted her head. "So? Are you the only one who is allowed to cross dress as the other gender?"

What? No, no way she knows-

She leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. "Did I catch you off guard, Mr Holmes?"

She knows!

"How- how did you-"

She smirked. "I know everyone that is associated with Mr Blackwood." She brought a hand up to your face, and you noticed a golden ring on her ring finger. She cupped your face. "And I know for a fact Henry wouldnt like his latest infatuation snooping around in a place like this. So..." She leaned into you again, staring into your eyes. "Leave."

You didnt have to be told twice. Lady Scarlett, that cross dresser creeped you out, even more so when she already knew you.

Stumbling out of the club, you removed your mask, dropping it to the ground. The fresh night air filled your lungs and cleared out the smokey air from the club. It was quiet outside, considering it was way past midnight and everyone was home now.

And I have to walk all the way home. You huffed, rubbing your arms. Because my husband would rather I get hypothermia than let his precious ponies walk through these streets.

You turn around, walking away from the club to see if there was a carriage available at this time, when you hear a shrill scream from the alleyway you're walking past.

And there it is- a woman lying in a puddle of her own blood as huge, dark figure slashed her face over and over again. The moonlight hit the woman's face- a blonde woman-

-the blonde from the club.

Frozen in your place, the figure stood up and looked at you, not at all looking startled at being caught mutiliating someone. It was definitely a man, huge stature, and he stared at you, the dark night concealing his identity. He slowly bent down to pick something up, a top hat, dusting it off before placing it on his head.

And then he tipped his hat at you.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck-

It wasnt until he took a step towards you that you finally broke out of your trance and ran. You ran and ran, not even risking a look back, not realising where you were running off to until you burst through their door, out of breath and paler than white paint.

"Y/n?" Colin rushed towards you, the Shepherd and Liam rushing into the living room as Colin helped you inside. "What happened? What's wrong?" He feared, as did all the boys, that Silas had done something to you.

"I- I- I-" You shake your head, the image of the dark figure running through your mind, the hat, the long cloak, the knife- it finally pieced together.

"I think I saw Jack the Ripper."

-

You sat at the police station with Colin. After explaining everything, he'd convinced you to report the murder.

The detective lead you inside the interrogation room, motioning for you to sit down as you began giving your statement.

"And who did you think the murderer was?"

"Jack the Ripper." Your answer made him roll his eyes. "And who might that be, miss?"

"I dont know." The investigator shook his head exasperated. "Of course you dont." He muttered, then sighed.

"So, what were you doing at this club?"

"Me?" You didnt pause for long. "I was invited there. My- my husband wanted me to attend on his behalf."

"Your husband-" he paused, reading your surname on the paper. "Fitzgerald? Wait, you're Mrs Silas Fitzgerald?" You nodded, making him sigh. "Guess it makes sense for you to be there..."

Whats that supposed to mean?

"Did you see anyone familiar there?"

"No." You answered curtly, before adding another detail. "Everyone was wearing masks. Couldnt recognise anyone even if I wanted to."

What? I'm not gonna rat out Benjamin and make him the prime suspect without gathering all the facts before.

It's definitely not because I have a soft spot for him since he reminds me of Qasim so much. Nope.

The door suddenly swung open and in walked what you assumed was the detectives superior since the man got up.

"Is this the witness for club murder?" The higher up asked him.

"Yes sir, she was just giving her statement-"

"No need. Dismiss the witness and the case. It's been handled." He told the detective who only nodded.

"Handled by who? You can't just dismiss the case!" You exclaimed getting up. But before he could reply, someone walked in from behind him.

"You can go now, Smith. I'll see Miss Y/n gets home safely." Henry patted the higher ups shoulder who left with the detective.

"What are you doing, Henry?" You crossed your arms.

"I could ask you the same." He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as well.

"I'm reporting a murder that happened outside your club! I saw him-"

"Saw who? Jack the Ripper?" He scoffed. "You think you saw him, but all you really saw was a dark shadow."

You shake your head. "I did see him-!"

"And how do you know that he's Jack the Ripper?" He pushed himself off the door frame, walking closer to you. "How do you know that he's the Ripper when no one knows who the man is?!"

You pursed your lips. You could argue that the victim profile and post mortem show a matching pattern but you doubt Henry is going to listen to reason.

"Even so, you should still let me give my statement. Why are you adamant on me not giving one? A woman was murdered for God's sake!" You try to walk past him, but he grabs your arm and yanks you back, making your chest collide with his.

"She was my employee. She worked for the club. And you-" his face hardened. "-you are insulting her death by making it a public frenzy. By stating that some sick nobody, someone who was nicknamed by the papers just to strike fear in people's hearts, killed her. I will not let you use her death so that your paper could make a quick buck! Jack the Ripper is a nobody!"

-

"Why do you think Blackwood's trying to cover up the murder?" Colin asked you as you two made your way towards your next destination.

"I dont know." You huffed. "Maybe he knows who the murderer is? Maybe he's protecting his business? Surely, if people were to hear that a serial killer made an appearance near his club, he'd lose clients."

"Or maybe he's the killer." You stopped and looked at him. Colin looked at you knowingly. "It would make sense for him to be Jack the Ripper, or at least the man who murdered that woman. It is very suspicious of him to probably bribing the coppers to drop the case."

You shake your head. "Its too obvious."

He rolled his eyes. "What? So Henry cant be the murderer because its “too obvious?” People make mistakes-"

"Not Henry." You cut him off. "He's too smart, calculating. There's got to be another reason for him to be sweeping this all under the carpet."

Colin shakes his head in disbelief, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked ahead. "We're here."

You followed his gaze and saw the building. The sign on the gate read-

"Aveline's Asylum"

"Really? Right now?" You asked Colin, who just smiled cheekily.

"It'll take your mind off things. Just take a break and help me on this assignment and we can go back to speculating what Blackwood's motives are." He raised his brows. "Plus, I think you'll enjoy this one."

You followed him inside the asylum, walking through the lush green gardens and seeing the pristine white building ahead, you wondered how this would help Colin's "exposing horrendous hospital environments and patient care" article when all of this reall just screamed "rehab for the rich".

"Shouldnt we go to an asylum that is in much worse conditions than this? Possibly next to a workhouse?" You asked him, but Colin just smiled. "Why did you choose this place, Colin?”

"You'll see." He says before whispering to you. "Remember your script. And... action!”

While pretending to be insane (which was easy because all you had to say was that you don’t think being a mom or stay-at-home wife is your life’s purpose), you saw a familiar figure there. And he saw you too.

“Y/n? Colin?” Benjamin looked surprised. “What are you two doing here?”

“Working on an article.” Colin replied, glancing at the way you’d gotten quiet, staring at Benjamin.

“Oh. Right, the horrible healthcare environment. But why this place? Its practically one of the finest asylums, housing mostly the wealthy of London.”

Colin nodded. “I know! But I have a hunch about this place-”

“What are you doing here?” You cut him off.

“Me? Oh, I’m here to give haircuts.” Ben chuckled nervously. “Its not a noble cause, but the wealthy unwell patients do pay a lot.”

“Mmhm, where’s your hair kit?” You remember distinctly that Ben was very particular about using his own scissors, so he often carried his own.

Ben looked caught off-guard by your question, but he quickly recovered. “The nurses provided me with their own. Cant carry scissors around an asylum now, can I?”

How convenient.

Colin continued to make small talk with Ben, while you studied him. Even if you didn’t tell anyone that you saw Ben at the club the night of the murder, doesn’t mean that you didn’t suspect him. For all you know, appearances can be deceiving and this sweet man may just be the infamous Jack the Ripper.

Blonde haired, the kindest eyes, the sweetest smile, a golden retriever in human form- could Benjamin really have killed all those women so brutally? Then again, Ted Bundy was also known for his good looks and superficial charm.

Am I really comparing Benny to Ted Bundy? God, I hope I’m wrong.

“I should go now. See you at home?” Ben asked you, hopeful.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, Ben’s smile faltering at your answer. He then raised his hand to shake Colin’s and thats when you noticed a distinctly familiar golden ring on his hand.

The same one you’d seen on Lady Scarlett’s hand.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

-

By the time you’d reached home, you’d pieced out the story. Ben being at the exclusive club and being discrete about it, seen in a room with Lady Scarlett, both wearing the same rings-

He’s in a relationship with her. Or him.

Thats why Ben was at that club! Homosexuality or anything else that isn’t heterosexuality was simply not accepted in Victorian England, and was possibly punishable by law! Just look at Oscar Wilde! Ben is dating Scarlett, keeping it discrete, he never committed any murders because he’s not Jack the Ripper. He’s just not straight!

Oh, I’m so glad you’re not the Ripper, Benny. I knew you weren’t capable of committing such heinous crimes.

As for why he was at the asylum, maybe he’s telling the truth. He did come to give the rich patients a haircut because he needs the money to maintain Scarlett’s lifestyle or maybe be rich enough to whisk her/him away from the club.

Benny is such a gentleman.

Now that Benny is no longer a suspect, that leaves Henry to be the main suspect. Maybe he’s not the one killed the woman, maybe he hired someone? Or maybe Henry’s not the killer either, its just too- obvious.

“Why do you think Henry stopped me from reporting the murder?” You asked Silas as you whisked the eggs before adding them to the pan. Silas had entered the kitchen the moment he heard you were cooking, though he did shoot you a weird look for making scrambled eggs at 11 pm. With you running around London all day, you hadn’t found time to eat until now, and you were just looking for a quick meal really.

“He probably doesn’t want you scaring off his customers. If word gets out that a murderer, or as you claim- “The Ripper” was seen near the club, then people wont be frequenting the place. Or perhaps he’s protecting the murderer?” Silas suggests, swallowing as the smell of butter wafts through the kitchen.

You add cubes of cold butter in, then look at him. “What? You don’t believe that I saw the Ripper?”

“I believe that if you really saw the Ripper, then you wouldn’t still be alive. He had the time and the opportunity to get rid of you.Why else would the notorious killer would let a witness get away?” Silas crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the kitchen counter near the stove.

“Maybe because he targets prostitutes? All of his previous victims match that profile.”

“Like he could tell a difference-”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?” You dished out the eggs. “No, you’re saying that. I’m saying that the man you saw kill that woman was just an amateur who was caught offguard by you, otherwise he would’ve attacked you too.” Silas states before grabbing the plate of buttery scrambled eggs on toast from your hands.

“Hey! Thats mine-” “My kitchen, my eggs.” He smirked before walking off. “You can make yourself more, I need to feed my dogs first.”

You glared at him until he left the kitchen, not knowing whether he really was going to feed it to the dogs or it was just a lie disguised as an insult so that he could eat it himself.

It was the latter. Always.

-

The next day, after you’d taken another ballet lesson from Sarah, you were about to go out to investigate the club again but Sarah had other plans for you.

“Y/n, I need you to stay at home today.”

“Oh, is everything alright?” You ask. She never made you stay home before. “Are we having company?”

“No. I think that you should play some sports to keep yourself fit. As a ballerina, it is important to keep both the mind and the body sound, and what better way to achieve that than by playing in the sun!” She lead you outside towards the tennis court, hidden by the huge bushes for privacy from outsiders.

“Tennis?” You ask her, and she confirms it. “Yes. Do you know how to play?”

Do I know how to- if I wasn’t so obsessed with history and sciences (and my mom scared that me wearing a skirt would attract predators), I had plans on playing professionally. Qasim and I used to play tennis at the club he’d won a membership in. We were both very competitive but he was just always a little better than me. He always knew my moves, he read me like an open book.

I was second only to Qasim though. Everyone else? They ate dust.

“Yes, I do.” You smiled at her. “Who am I playing with?”

“Me.” Silas spoke from behind you, dressed in all-white tennis wear. He looked at Sarah unamused. “Nana, I thought you said you had a worthy opponent for me.”

You shot him a glare, but Sarah came to your defense. “Now, now. You don’t know how capable your wife is. And I’m willing to bet that she’d make you run out of breath, Silas.”

You smiled cheekily as Silas scoffed. “We’ll see.” Sarah places a hand on your back. “Why don’t you go get changed, dear? I had the maids prepare an outfit for you.” When you left, Sarah looked at Silas. “Now Silas, I know you play exceptionally well but you must remember that this match is more of a way to spend time with your wife. Not a way to show off. So, be a gentleman, hm?”

You huffed as you returned to the tennis court. What the hell is this? Silas gets to wear a shirt and pants and I have to wear a full length dress with a corset and a hat?!

Mom would probably have let me gone pro if this was the official tennis wear for women.

Sarah sat on the side lines and watched you two play. Silas let you serve first and after a couple of back-and-forth, you won the first point. And then the next. And the next.

“Ah, you’re doing fantastic, Y/n!” Sarah cheered before standing up when the butler informed her that a guest has come to see her. “I’ll be back! You two keep playing!”

As Sarah left, you couldn’t help but tease Silas. What? He still makes you sleep on the floor! “So, how does it feel to lose to a girl?”

“I wouldn’t know.” And with that, Silas threw the ball in the air and served.

The ball shot past your head, just centimetres away from hitting you.

“What the hell? I wasn’t ready-”

“Lame excuses dont work on me.” He pulled out another ball and bounced it. “Are you ready now, duchess?”

You scowled at him before getting in position. “I’m ready, jerk.”

You lost two of the three matches. The first match you almost won was because Sarah was there and Silas was going easy on you, but when Sarah left, Silas regained all those points by serving topspin and slice serves. By the second match, you were finally able to return his fast serves, but now Silas used his speed and your lack of because of your heavy dress and made you run around all over the court trying to return his fast shots. By the third match, you were all out of breath but not out of determination. So, Silas decided that now would be the time to use your body as target practise and he hit the ball over your legs and arms, only stopping when one shot hit you in the head and made you fall on the ground.

“Are you okay?” He asked, barely suppressing the glee in his voice. He held out a hand to help you up, but you swatted it away and got up on your own.

“Finish the game.” You growled and he raised his hands in surrender before returning to his side of the court. For the rest of the third match, he missed all the shots you served and let you win. And he did it so openly, not even being courteous enough to hide his intentions.

Sarah watched you return inside the house, looking all sweaty and angry as you stomped unto your room. Silas trailed in behind, a satisfied grin on his face and Sarah shook her head at him disappointedly. “What did you do, Silas?”

“Nothing. I even let her win the last round, but she’s still angry.” Sarah looked at him admonishingly, making him sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll go talk to her. The things I do for you, Nana.”

“The things you do for love, Silas.” She corrected him.

Sure. Silas rolled his eyes mentally. I “love” Y/n.

Silas entered the bedroom and saw you had showered and changed into new clothes. “Going somewhere? Perhaps to get some handkerchiefs to wipe all the sweat and tears?” He watched you glare at him through the mirror and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. But seriously, where are you going? I could give you a ride.”

“I’m going to an asylum with Colin.” You huff, packing some things in your small purse. Silas nodded. “Good idea to get yourself finally checked-” He dodged the hairbrush you threw at his head, chuckling. “Now now, duchess. It isn’t exactly speaking much for your mental health for you to be chucking things at your dear husband.”

Ignoring his antics, you slipped on your shoes, walking out of the room. He trailed behind you. “Dont be mad. I’m just playing around. Come on, I’ll drop you off at Saint Peters asylum. Its on my way to work.”

“I’m not going to Saint Peters. I’m going to Aveline’s.” You stated, ready to walk off but he grabbed your arm.

“What?” You looked at his shocked face. “What?” You repeated his question. Why did he suddenly look so pale.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his grip tightening when you tried to move. “Which asylum?”

“Aveline’s.” You frowned, grabbing his hand and removing it from your arm. Silas expression paled further.

“Why?”

You shrugged. “Colin wants to do an article on horrible asylum conditions and treatment of patients-”

“Dont.” Silas ordered more than he suggested. “That place- don’t go there.”

“And why not?” You looked at him skeptically. “Colin wants to do a piece on the place-”

“Pick another asylum. I can get you access to any other.” Silas ignored your question, averting his eyes. “You will not go there, and you will not write a piece on that asylum.”

You grabbed his arm to make him look at you. “What are you hiding, Silas?”

Silas stared at you before yanking his arm out of your grasp. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just- do as I say.” He raised finger, wagging it at your warningly. “I’m telling you- you will not go there again, Y/n. And if I find out that you or Colin or anyone else tried to write about that place, I will shut down that paper and make sure none of them find a job ever.”

You watched Silas leave you there standing dumbfounded.

Did he really just threaten me?

This bitch.

-

Silas watched you leave from the window. He knows you wont listen to him, knows that its inevitable to try to stop you from going to Aveline, so he already sent someone to bribe the staff to not let you on the asylum premises. He’s not worried about who you’re meeting or where you’re going, just as long as its not Aveline.

No. He closed his eyes, painful memories flashing through his mind. You cant know. You cant know.

He sat down on his chair, trying to think of ways to divert your attention from the asylum. You’re as stubborn as a mule, you wont listen to him. So he has to create distractions for you.

Jack the Ripper!

Of course, the murder case!

“Cadburry!” He called his butler. “Arrange me an invite for the Gentleman’s club. Now.”

You were sitting in the boys apartment, Benjamin playing with your hair out of habit, braiding it, unbraiding it, then braiding it again. Colin sat confused. “Why cant we go to the asylum today?”

“I’m not in the mood to see depressing white halls today. Besides, I have an errand to run.” You lean your head further back for Benny.

“And what that might be?” Colin was intrigued.

“Girly errand. You wont understand.” You dismiss him. “But we’ll go to Aveline’s again, thats for sure.” You felt Benny tug your hair at that statement.

“Ow! Benny!” You glare at him. Ben shakes out of his daze, apologising profusely. “Sorry, sorry! I was just lost in my thoughts.”

A coy smile formed on your lips. Lost in thought? Oh, I know exactly what kind of thoughts you’re having, Benny.

Colin stood up with a sigh. “Alright then. I’ll go to office and start writing down a draft.” You nodded as he left you alone with Ben.

Once you heard the door click, you immediately turned around. “Hey, Benny.”

He gave you a gentle smile. “Hey, Y/n.”

“So…” you wiggled your brows at him. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hmm… nothing much really. I got a new customer who wanted a toupee. Apparently word got around that I’m a very skilled barber, no matter how much hair one has or lack of, I can make it work!”

“Yes, thats lovely Benny, but-” you cleared your throat. “I meant, whats going on with you, personally. You look happier, livelier these days.”

He shrugged, offering you another sweet smile. “I guess that’s just the effect you have on people around you.”

Ugh! Stop being so charming, Benny!

“Thanks, Benny. But… I don’t know, I feel like there’s something different about you.” You tried another approach. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I wont ever judge you or anything.”

Though he was smiling, you saw something flicker in his eyes. Doubt? Fear?

“What do you mean, Y/n?” He asked, his voice stable as usual.

Your eyes studied him.

“Did you meet someone new?”

There it is! That flicker in his eyes. His face didn’t let anything away but his eyes, you saw it.

“Yes.” Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “I met you.”

Stupid Benny. Annoying Benny.

Sighing, you realise that maybe he’s just not ready to come out yet. And that I shouldn’t take it personally because I am close with him and he could tell me anything, just like Qasim would. It would be unfair to force Ben to tell you about Lady Scarlett before he’s ready.

“Thanks, Benny.” You said, hiding your disappointment. “I have to go now. Have to go… run that errand.”

“Oh, need me to come?” He got up with you. You shake your head. “No, I’ll manage on my own.”

Why would I tell you when you wont tell me about your love?

-

You were now standing outside the club again. You had initially returned to the back alley to investigate the crime scene again but it had been scrubbed clean and Henry had somehow managed to get a permit to start construction to expand the club further.

He was erasing the crime scene. Henry was trying to hide something.

Speak of the devil, you saw Henry exit the club and get in his carriage. Once you were sure he’d left, you made your way towards the club entrance, still having the invite from last time, only for the guards to stop you.

“I’m sorry but Mr Blackwood has forbidden you from entering the club, Miss Y/n.” One guard said, holding a hand up to halt you.

“Mrs Fitzgerald.” You corrected him, hoping to use the name to get by. “I am the duchess of Westminster!”

“Forgives us, Miss Y/n, but Mr Blackwood specifically instructed us to not let you in and he also instructed us not to address you by anything but Miss Y/n or- um…” The other guard trailed off, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“Or?” You sneered at him to continue.

“Or… future-Mrs Blackwood.” He mumbled but you heard him loud and clear.

I’m going to kill him.

“Listen here and listen clear!” Your voice took a threatening tone, though you’re sure it would look comical to an outsider seeing a woman of your stature trying to intimidate men who were towering over you with their buff physiques.

“I am going to only be addressed as MRS FITZGERALD and you will let me in this club right now or I will have my husband, the duke of Westminster, shut this place down before your twat boss would dare to associate his name with me again!” You yelled with your nostrils flared. “Now, you will march in and inform Lady Scarlett that I’m here to see her. And if she says no, tell her I know about the rings!”

The guards shared a look, probably trying to communicate telepathically whether to let you in or not.

Fortunately for you, your huffing and puffing seemed to work and one of them walked in before returning moments later.

“Please wait for a short while Lady Scarlett entertains some guests.”

After about 20 long minutes, during which you were sure Henry would turn up and have you carried off the premises, the guards finally lead you inside.

“This way, future Mrs Blackwood.” You shot him a glare but didn’t say anything since you were inside the club anyways. They lead you up the stairs towards the room that you had seen Ben go into the last time you were here.

The door opened and you saw a large bed on one side, silk sheets and plush cushions adorning it, and a huge vanity in the other corner, full of makeup and expensive jewels, all arranged in an orderly manner. Then there was a table next to the vanity on which sat a variety of beautiful red haired wigs.

“They’re made from real hair.” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Lady Scarlett, wearing a maroon robe and a black mask covering her identity. Her trademark red hair, still styled as beautifully as the first time you saw it and that bright red lipstick on her lips. “Benjamin was sweet enough to get them for me.”

She walked past you and sat down on a couch next to the window that opened to the balcony outside, and then she lit up a cigarette, holding it in a vintage cigarette holder.

Not that I would ever condone a nasty habit such as smoking, but she looked absolutely badass in that moment.

“What do you want, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett let out a huge exhale of smoke.

“Fitzgerald. I know about the rings.” You state, watching her take another drag.

“What rings?” She asked, feigning innocence.

“The golden rings.” You narrow your eyes. “I saw it on your hand that night and I saw it on Benjamin’s hand as well. I know whats going on, and I’m here to talk about that.” Taking a deep breath, you blurted out your suspicions.

“I know you and Benjamin are in a relationship.”

She looked up at you expectedly, not at all alarmed at being caught. Then again, why would she be caught off guard? Considering the line of business she’s in, she probably has practiced her poker face.

“Is that so, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett’s lip’s curled up. “So what?”

So what?

“Look, I mean no harm, but I- I care about Benjamin a lot. He’s like family to me, and I know its not my place but I am very protective of him and I just… I’m just here to make sure that this is not some sort of game for you. I don’t want you playing with his feelings, so if you’re not serious about him then I suggest you end things with him now before it gets too messy.”

Scarlett looked at you before chuckling. “As you wish, Mrs Blackwood.” He stood up with a click of his tongue. “Now, is that all or do you have any more shocking news to pass on to me, Mrs Blackwood? I suggest you do it now because you wont be stepping a foot in this club again.”

“Its Mrs Fitzgerald. And I don’t plan on returning to this depraved scum either.”

“Depraved scum, huh?” Scarlett tilted her head slightly in a mocking manner. “Since you insist on calling yourself Mrs Fitzgerald so proudly, let me show you something as well.” He opened the door and lead you towards the top of the stairwell, from where you could see everyone and everything down below on the dance floor.

She nodded her head to the far right corner and your heart dropped for a second. Is that-

“Mr Fitzgerald seems to be enjoying himself. Though not all that much.” Scarlett said as your eyes remained focused on Silas who was sitting on a chair, looking uninterested by the different women who surrounded him. “Maybe he likes boys. I’ll send some his way-” You rushed out of the club, not able to hear another word or see Silas for another moment longer.

-

Its been a couple of days since you went to the club. Of course, when you arrived home and waited for Silas to return, who upon your questioning about his whereabouts claimed he was meeting a businessman.

He lied.

You tried to distract yourself by taking more ballet lessons from Sarah, but still your attention lingered on him.

Why was he there?

You then tried to divert your mind towards work, and then here you are, sitting on your desk with a blank paper, ready to be filled with words.

Why was he there?

Dropping your pen because you knew you weren’t going to be able to get anything done until you processed your feelings about this.

What feelings? Certainly not jealousy because I am far more mature than this. Its just-

I thought he had standards. Taste. Sure I might not be fine wine, but I’m certainly better than those skank-

Nope. I am a woman. I will not be bringing other women down because of a man.

But Silas… how dare he? Yes, how dare he?! I am not jealous, I am insulted! How dare he act like he’s a polished aristocrat and I’m just ditzy, poorer than a church mouse, a NOBODY, when he goes around prancing his repute and himself in the utter gutters of London?

Maybe he’s just hypersexual. Yes, he’s a depraved, disgusting individual and I married him. Great. So the first man I married, had a NIKKAH with, turned out to be lying, cheating, piece of-

Why did he lie?

Its not like he expects me to sleep with him. If he did, why would he still make me sleep on the floor?

Baldwin would’ve never made me sleep on the floor, always covered me with his cloak because he knew how much the cold bothered me.

And he’s always so rude to me! He beat me at tennis, quite literally!

Salauddin always lost to me in chess. And he let me rub my wins in his face too!

Not to mention, how uncaring he is to my feelings!

Ibrahim always put my happiness above everything. He chose to wait for me, until I was safe- felt safe.

And of all of them, I ended up marrying Silas.

How dare he?

Pushing yourself back into your desk, you began writing down furiously. Fuck Silas, fuck Henry, and fuck Lady Scarlett! I WILL go back to Aveline Asylum, I WILL expose the the Ripper and- if I have time, maybe find Benny a better significant other!

“Woah there- what are you writing?” Colin came up behind you, frowning at the title he read.

“The Ripper strikes again! Murder outside the exclusive club for the wealthy freaks!” Colin looked at you. “Have you gone bonkers?”

“Yes.” You snapped. “You cant talk me out of it, so why don’t you go and get us access into Aveline asylum again. Discreetly, this time.”

By the time everyone was going home, you had finished your article and dropped it on the editor’s desk just as he was about to leave.

“Read this. Trust me, its worth it.” You look over your shoulder. “And I have a witness ready to go public- Mrs Fitzgerald.” Of course, the editor wouldn’t ever figure out that you are Mrs Fitzgerald, not Mr Holmes.

-

However, you were a little surprised to see that he hadn’t published your article in the paper the next morning. Storming to work, you quickly made your way towards the editor’s office, barging in without knocking.

“Hello there, love.” He smiled cheekily. Instead of your editor, Henry Blackwood sat in his chair, his legs propped up on the desk. “I was waiting for you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“What? You can barge into my business, but I can’t swing by yours?” He asked, feigning hurt.

“No. Now leave.”

“Well then its a good thing that this is also my business now.” Henry grinned, removing his feet from the desk and replacing them with his arms, resting his head in his hand as he stared at your fuming self.

“What?”

“Oh love, you’re looking at your new boss. I just bought the paper this morning.” He winked, standing up and making his way to you. “See, I told you not to come by the club again, I told you to drop the Ripper case, and you didn’t listen either time. So, I’ve come here to tame you. Personally. Seems like you need my undivided attention, kitten-”

“I did drop the Ripper case. I didn’t give my statement to the police!” You exclaimed.

He tutted, wagging his finger at you. “No, but you did write an article. You’re lucky I was here before it got published.”

You frowned. “How- how did you know about the article? I wrote it yesterday, I gave it to the editor at the last moment-”

“I have eyes everywhere, Y/n.” He smirked, leaning down to whisper. “Especially on you, naughty kitten.”

Henry chuckled as he looked at your flushed face, mistaking your anger for bashfulness. He walked out of the door but not before passing another comment to tick you off.

“Nice moustache. Or shall I say… whiskers, kitten?”

-

For the next 3 days, you didn’t leave the house. You didn’t even leave your room. It seemed like all your previous pettiness-driven motivation had run out and dropped you into the well of depression. And here you wallowed in your sadness, taking Silas’s bed even when he was away and looking like a pitiful lump of sadness under the covers.

“What is wrong with you?” Silas asked, exasperated as he sat down on the bed to tie his shoes. “How long will this go on? You have missed your ballet classes and you are worrying grandmother.”

“I’m just sleepy, okay?” You mumbled from under the sheets. “Its not like sleeping on the cold, hard floor is helping me.”

“And it seems like sleeping in my bed hasn’t helped either.” He raised a brow. “Its been 3 days already. This has gone long enough. Now you can either tell me what is wrong or I will have Cadbury drag you out and hose you down in the gardens.”

You shoved the covers down to glare at him. Asshole. You don’t doubt that he would have his butler hose you down.

“I miss… I miss my brother.” You mumbled as you averted your eyes. “Qasim would fix everything for me. He always had a solution, always. And I- I need him right now. To guide me, to handle things for me.”

“So… why don’t you ask for his help?” Silas asked, fixing his tie.

You stared at his back before looking down at your lap. “We’re not on speaking terms… I’m mad at him.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “Well he’s your family, isn’t he? I’m sure you can still talk to him.”

“Cant.” You muttered gloomily, making Silas’s annoyance trigger off.

“And why the bloody hell not?” He turned to glare at you. “You cant get out of my bed! You cant attend work! You cant take your classes! You cant tell me what’s bothering you! And you cant talk to your own brother! Why!? Why?! WHY?!”

You flinched at his harsh town before tears filled your eyes.

“Because… he’s dead.”

Your statement rung in Silas’s ears like a daunting bell. Dead. Dead. Dead.

God, did he feel like shit now.

You threw the covers off you, getting out of bed as you fixed his sheets.

“Sorry for hogging your bed.” You sniffled, using your sleeve to wipe your tears as you walked past him, only for Silas to catch your wrist. With a gentle tug, he had you sitting back down on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sincerely. “I was just… frustrated due to things at work. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Its fine, whatever. You’re right, I’ll go to work and classes-” He tightened his grip on your wrist when you tried to leave.

“No.” He tilted your chin towards him. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. I may not be your brother, but I am your husband.”

You stared at him conflicted. Did he really mean it?

He answered your silent question with a gentle squeeze of your hand. “I will fix your problems, Y/n.” He offered a smile. “Your duke is at your service.”

-

After you told Silas your work situation with Henry and how he’s stopping you from writing anything about Jack the Ripper, how you cant get anything done with his shadow looming over you and monitoring everything you do, Silas explained that solution to it was all simple.

“I will buy the paper from Henry.” He stated nonchalantly, as if he was talking about buying eggs not a newspaper company.

“I dont think he will give you the company. He wont put it up for sale-”

“Everything is for sale, Y/n. You just need to find the right price.” He stood up, assuring you he will buy the company. “I’ll get the company, if you promise to put on a great show. You focus on the ballet classes. After all, the show is only a week from now.”

The following seven days were filled with you doing ballet for hours and hours, all with one motivation.

Not to let Silas down.

Because if I let him down, if I embarrass him, then he wont get the paper from Henry. And I wont be able to find Jack the Ripper or help Colin with the asylum! And Silas will lose trust in me and wont let me have my space at the Westminster palace or wherever so that I can work on my time machine-

Time machine! You face palmed. I’ve been so busy with the murders and shitty men that I forgot to build my machine! My way home!

No, after the show, I’m- I’m demanding- I’m moving out. I don’t care if I get the paper or not, I need to build my machine.

“Oh Y/n, what are you doing in the storage- honey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out! Cadbury! Hurry and open the windows!” Sarah guided you out of the dusty store to sit down, fanning you with her hands. “Oh dear, do you hate confined spaces like Silas too?”

You took deep breaths as fresh air flooded in through the windows, furrowing your brows. “What?”

“Nothing dear, I just thought you felt suffocated in closed spaces, like Silas!” She explained. “He cant stay in a room with closed windows for too long, you know.”

Now that she mentions it, she’s right. You don’t remember Silas being in a room without at least a window open, even as winter rolled around. Hell, he still opens the balcony windows in the bedroom as soon as he wakes up, but you thought that was because he hated your guts and wanted to give you an early wake up call by letting the cold air slap your face and rattle your bones.

“Why does he hate confined spaces?” You ask, letting her loosen your corset.

Sarah looked a little hesitant to tell you, but then relented when you asked her again. “He never told me the reason, but I figured it was the night when his mother passed away. Silas… he was just a young boy, he was hiding in his closet. He liked to scare his mother when she came to check on him, and so he often hid in the closet to give her a fright. He saw his mother get murdered while he was in the closet.” She looked down sadly. “Unfortunately, the killer’s identity was hidden by the dark night. Silas wasn’t able to identify who killed his mother, and I suppose he’s blamed himself a little for that incident.”

Damn. Thats… dark. And sad.

Maybe I can excuse Silas for being rude to me at times. Maybe. Just a tad.

The night of the ballet show rolled around quicker than you’d expected. And despite all the hours of practice and Sarah’s countless assurances that you’d be amazing, you knew the reality.

Your performance was barely passable.

From a young age, you were able to critique yourself very well. As Qasim said- “Only you know yourself the best!” And you knew right now, as you stood backstage, peeking through the curtains at the audience and spotting the queen and her family, you were utterly, truly set up for failure.

NO ONE CAN LEARN BALLET IN 2 MONTHS! AT LEAST NOT ENOUGH TO IMPRESS THE QUEEN!

Your stomach churned, you felt bile rise up your throat, your legs wobbled as you backed away from the curtain, stumbling away, right into Silas’s arms.

“Silas- Silas, I cant do this! I can’t! I can’t!” You cried out and Silas tightened his grip on your arms.

“Okay.”

Okay?

“What?”

“Okay. You cant do it.” He squeezes your shoulders. “I guess I’ll just tell everyone to go home. I’ll apologise to the queen and make up an excuse as to why she wont be seeing a performance by my wife tonight. But hey, she’s family. She’ll understand, right?”

You stared at him in confusion. Silas ran a hand through his fingers. “As for all the journalist who came here to write about you, and all the influential people I’ve invited over because this was your formal introduction into high society, I guess I’ll just have to make something up. But you-“ he gave you a warm smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “-you don’t worry your pretty little head over this. Its okay, I… well, if I’m being honest, I never really expected you to perform.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I knew you’d back out at the last second. Oh well, what can we do. Now-” he rubbed his chin in thought. “Should I tell the guests that you’ve broken your leg? Or perhaps you cant perform because you’re with child? If we go with the first excuse, people may call you a ditz, maybe unprofessional. And they might come to check on you. But if we go with the second excuse, people will talk about- well, it has been only a month into our marriage-”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Is he… did he set you up?

“You expected me to not perform?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, Y/n. I expected you to fail to deliver what I require of you. I expected you to perform in front of an audience, and that was all I asked. I didn’t ask you to become a prima donna, I just wanted you to be good enough. Which you are in my opinion. But your doubt in yourself right now is only because you clearly haven’t spent enough time practising because you were too busy running around town, going to clubs and asylums and chasing after a murderer when all of your attention should’ve been on becoming a competent wife!” Silas fumed, tightening his grip on your shoulders. “I asked you again and again to focus on the ballet lessons, and you ignored my advice repeatedly and for what? Because you wanted to prove yourself? Because you wanted to play detective and solve murders? When you cant even do a simple job as putting on a show? And I knew- I knew you would abandon me like this, so you know what, Y/n? While I keep my end of the bargain, while I invited Henry tonight to talk him into selling the paper to me, you continue to let me down. So go on stage or don’t, I really don’t give a shit now. I can’t take your word ever again.”

Silas stormed off, leaving you shell shocked backstage. You sat down on the steps, trying to control your breathing. How could he- how can he say all that to you?

Does he not understand the pressure you’re under? Does he not understand how hard all of this is for you?

You really thought that after you told him about Qasim, after he assured he that he would help you out, that he would fix your problems-

I thought he understood. I thought he had my back.

You let out a shaky exhale, rubbing your chest to ease your ache. Why is it so hard to breathe all of a second?

Tonight, you didn’t invite Colin or Benny or any of the boys, and it only hit you now how truly lonely you were. There’s no Colin. No Benny. No friends. No family. No Qasim. No… Silas.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you alright?” Cadbury looked alarmed as he spotted you looking shell shocked, struggling to breathe.

“I… I cant-” You couldn’t speak, and the butler quickly took your nervous, trembling form in and sprung into action.

“Here, duchess- ma’am, drink this.” He brought you a cup of tea. “It’ll calm the nerves, ma’am. Drink it.”

You let the bitter, warm liquid slide down your throat without a second thought.

“You’ll be alright now, ma’am. You’ll be all… right.” The butler assured you kindly, helping you stand up. In just a matter of seconds, your anxiety had melted away and was replaced with… unbridled confidence.

“What did I just drink?” The words slipped out as you felt your heart beat faster. Your eyes snapped towards Cadbury. “What did you give me?” The words came out quickly.

“Nothing special. Its just tea to calm you.” He said, ushering you up the steps towards the stage curtains. “Are you ready now, ma’am?”

Your eyes zeroed in on the white particles on his collar. Like powder.

“Is that snow?” If you weren’t so hyper focused on his collar, it would concern you how fast you were talking. “Is it snowing outside already?”

Cadbury looked down on his collar and suppressed a smile. “Yes, duchess. You could say that. Now- please return your attention to your performance. We are all rooting for you.”

“Not Silas.” You snapped again, your eyes looking at the dark curtains as you take your position. “Not that twat.”

Cadbury’s brows shot up in shock. “Ma’am-”

“I’ll show that twat.” And then the curtains opened.

-

Silas sat down in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Everything is going according to plan. You’re nervous and he just chewed you out so the stage will now be empty because you’ve ran off to cry a river, the royal family will once again be embarrassed as they happily welcomed Silas and his Muslim wife into the family (by making them the duke and duchess) and with all the journalists he invited, the news will now spread like wildfire that Silas rejected a princess, Queen Victoria’s daughter to marry an embarrasment.

The princess was one upped by a fool. A commoner. A failed ballerina.

Did Silas feel bad for you? Just a little, because he didnt like the way you looked at him, hoping for support, maybe even motivation, only for him to break your heart. Broken hearts can be mended, but broken reputations? Nope.

Besides, he’s sure that when he buys the company from Henry and give it to you, you’ll forget all about it! Everything will work out just as he’d planned-

What the hell?

The curtain opened and instead of being met with an empty stage like he’d planned, there you stood in your white tutu skirt, face completely devoid of any expression.

What are you doing?

The pianist began playing a tune he didn’t recognise. Sarah did tell him that of the three songs you had chosen, there was one she hadn’t heard ever before. You’d worked with the pianist to get the tune right, and at that time, he was impressed at how much work you were putting into this.

As the music played, you began dancing. From what his grandmother had told him, he was expecting soft, gentle, shy dance.

And yet you were doing anything but that. Your movements were strong, powerful, determined. You were nothing like the woman whose hope he’d crushed just moments ago. You were all alone on that big stage, but you practically leaped from one side of the stage to the other, your legs faster than lightening.

By no means did you look like a mess, or that you didn’t know what your were doing. Your eyes were wide open, as if hyper aware of your surroundings and your audience. From beside him, Silas could hear his grandmother whispering the choreography.

“En pointe. En pointe. En pointe.” You were now dancing on the tip of your toes, and Silas could only imagine how painful, if not destructive this could be to your feet.

“Tendu. Chaine turn. Chaine turn. Pique manege.” Now, you were moving across the stage while making turns.

And finally, the big ending. “Pirouette. Pirouette. Keep spotting, Y/n. Pirouette.” Silas knew about the pirouettes. He watched you spin around your own axis, in a fixed position on a ground, your body moving first, your head later, your eyes focused on a spot in the dark so that you don’t lose your balance. You turned- 1,2,3, he lost count because you were turning too fast.

“34- was that 34 turns, Silas?”

Thirty four? Thirty four pirouettes?!

The performance ended with fouetté turns, which according to Sarah were about 28 and you exited the stage dancing en pointe, on the tip of your toes.

The ballet hall erupted in applause and cheers, and Silas stood up with everyone else to give a standing ovation to a now empty stage.

What the hell just happened?

-

Its hot. Its hot. I’m burning up!

As soon as you were off stage, of which you have no memory of your performance, you almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for strong arms catching you. And the moment your eyes caught sight of the broad shoulders, you instantly pushed yourself away, throwing yourself against the wall to support yourself.

“Careful there, love.” Henry grinned, clapping his hands in mocking manner. “That was quite the performance you gave, kitten. I’m very impressed.”

“What are you doing here?” You spat out, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. He tilted his head, amused at the sight of your flushed cheeks. “Silas invited me. He wanted to discuss business. I wonder if the little kitten went to her owner for help because she couldn’t scratch me with her tiny paws?”

“Owner?” You heaved a shaky breath. His smirk widened. “What else would you name it? He bought you to be his wife, because you know and I know that there isn’t and there never will be love between you two. He’s just using you. So drop the charade and come to me-” Henry caught your wrist before you could slap him, and while he may have stopped your physical assault, he wasn’t able to stop your verbal one.

“What would you know about love? You’re here, pursuing a married woman who has insulted you from the very first moment. Those skanks at your disgusting club have more self esteem than you do right now. You’re fucking pathetic and I’d rather eat a cactus and shit it out before I marry an entitled, emasculated prick like you. Fuck off!” You shoved him away and stormed out of there, unaware of just how much Henry wanted to wring your neck (just for a moment) and how a certain someone had overheard this little spat.

And he smiled proudly.

Good job, Y/n. He thought to himself.

-

“Fuck!” You screamed as you burst through the doors and landed out in the gardens, falling to the snowy ground, letting the ice cool your burning temperature.

How the hell am I burning up when its literally snowing?!

You grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it to your face, trying to cool down your body temperature. When that didnt work, you dove face first into the ground, before flipping on your back, letting the snow engulf your body from all sides. Your ballerina costume was thin and sheer as it could be, finally allowing the cold to creep into your skin and slowly into your bones.

Now that the adrenaline rush and whatever the hell was in that tea wore off, your body immediately went into fatigue and became aware of all the aches in your body, especially the pain in your feet. You tried to move, but your muscles didn’t budge. They were tired out, strained beyond their limits.

The cold suddenly became too unbearable and your teeth rattled. You tried to lift your head, tried to yell for help but it was like your mind had suddenly went autopilot and decided to shut down to let your body recover from its fatigue.

“No…” You whispered, as tears slipped out of your eyes. Everyone was inside, the party was loud, no one would even hear you scream for help even if you tried, no one would come to your aid. The realisation that you would freeze to death had you panicking, but alas, your brain refused to cooperate with you.

You heard the sound of footsteps and a glimmer of hope rose in you. Turning your head to the side took the last bit of energy, and your brain put you out of your misery when you saw the daunting shadowy figure that imprinted itself in your mind from the night of the murder.

The cloak, the top hat, a golden ring on his hand and the shiny glint of the knife.

The Ripper is here.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream before you blacked out.

So??? Thoughts??? Also nobody @ me for not putting a "keep reading" button because I had to edit 12k words TWICE on mobile, I have pulled an all nighters for yall. I have to go to clinic in loke 2 hours.

Yall better send comment and send ask.

[warningsine]

ISLAMABAD (AP) — Afghanistan’s Taliban rulers have issued a ban on women’s voices and bare faces in public under new laws approved by the supreme leader in efforts to combat vice and promote virtue.

The laws were issued Wednesday after they were approved by supreme leader Hibatullah Akhundzada, a government spokesman said. The Taliban had set up a ministry for the “propagation of virtue and the prevention of vice” after seizing power in 2021.

The ministry published its vice and virtue laws on Wednesday that cover aspects of everyday life like public transportation, music, shaving and celebrations.

They are set out in a 114-page, 35-article document seen by The Associated Press and are the first formal declaration of vice and virtue laws in Afghanistan since the takeover.

“Inshallah we assure you that this Islamic law will be of great help in the promotion of virtue and the elimination of vice,” said ministry spokesman Maulvi Abdul Ghafar Farooq on Thursday.

The laws empower the ministry to be at the frontline of regulating personal conduct, administering punishments like warnings or arrest if enforcers allege that Afghans have broken the laws.

Article 13 relates to women. It says it is mandatory for a woman to veil her body at all times in public and that a face covering is essential to avoid temptation and tempting others. Clothing should not be thin, tight or short.

Women should veil themselves in front of all male strangers, including Muslims, and in front of all non-Muslims to avoid being corrupted. A woman’s voice is deemed intimate and so should not be heard singing, reciting, or reading aloud in public. It is forbidden for women to look at men they are not related to by blood or marriage and vice versa.

Article 17 bans the publication of images of living beings, threatening an already fragile Afghan media landscape.

Article 19 bans the playing of music, the transportation of solo female travelers, and the mixing of men and women who are not related to each other. The law also obliges passengers and drivers to perform prayers at designated times.

According to the ministry website, the promotion of virtue includes prayer, aligning the character and behavior of Muslims with Islamic law, encouraging women to wear hijab, and inviting people to comply with the five pillars of Islam. It also says the elimination of vice involves prohibiting people from doing things forbidden by Islamic law.

Last month, a U.N. report said the ministry was contributing to a climate of fear and intimidation among Afghans through edicts and the methods used to enforce them.

It said the ministry’s role was expanding into other areas of public life, including media monitoring and eradicating drug addiction.

“Given the multiple issues outlined in the report, the position expressed by the de facto authorities that this oversight will be increasing and expanding gives cause for significant concern for all Afghans, especially women and girls,” said Fiona Frazer, the head of the human rights service at the U.N. mission in Afghanistan.

The Taliban rejected the U.N. report.

[newsfromstolenland]

What other disturbing things do interracial couples have to deal with in Canada? Those sound awful.

I mean. I'm not going to list everything but I'll tell you a bit about it. I'm not really interested in describing my extremely traumatic experiences in detail, but I'll give you general idea

I'm the product of an interracial marriage and am in an interracial relationship myself. canada is...sucks about this kind of thing.

despite the carefully cultivated image of "multiculturalism" that the colonial state maintains, canada is very racist

a significant aspect of racism is the simultaneous fetishization and rejection of interracial relationships

by fetishization, I mean the way white people think it's acceptable to objectify people of colour based on race. they can get off to porn of women of colour being abused, or that paints black men as violent and abusive, they can talk about asian and latin american making good "submissive" wives (which. lol. they clearly don't know much about us)

and as long as we're sexual objects, the broader white canadian society doesn't seem to object very much. but a happy healthy interracial relationship is met with disgust

my gf is mixed but very much white passing, and often white guys who mistake her for a fellow white guy will try to talk about how she bagged a (and this is a quote) "thick brown chick"

because this fantasy allows them to see me as her property, there is very little hesitation to talk about it- even to congratulate her on it

however, my parents (a brown muslim immigrant man and a white woman) are constantly met with disgust. them being married, in their 50s, and having multiple grown up children leaves little room for classic fetishization tropes. so instead, white people default to disgust.

I think of all the times I've witnessed my mom being asked if she "feels safe" with my dad, if he hits her, if he tries to make her convert Islam, if he tries to make her wear a hijab (we're Ismaili...)

a lifetime of micro-aggressions carries a heavy weight.

and then of course there are the systemic issues:

Until 1985, women with Indian status who married someone without status lost their status rights. Men, on the other hand, did not lose Indian status in the same way.

and the "Indian" status of Indigenous people's parents continues to impact their status and thus access to land claims

racial segregation in canada had a huge impact on people's ability to form interracial relationships. while not explicitly illegal, segregation made the expectations for relationships and marriages abundantly clear- and segregated schools existed in canada until the 1980s

^ this impacted black people specifically, and it was known that their safety was at risk should they go against the set expectations

[theupfish]

One of the world's oldest and most persecuted religions is making a comeback

If you live in "the West," you might not have heard much about the Zoroastrian religion, outside of that memorable monologue in the first "Austin Powers" movie. But as priceless as that speech is, the Zoroastrian religion deserves to be known for more than just shaving Dr. Evil's balls. Actually, if you follow any Abrahamic faith, your religion owes its existence in part to Zoroastrianism.

Originating in Iran, Zoroastrianism is one of the world's oldest monotheistic religions. It's founder Zarathustra, AKA Zoroaster, lived some time between 1,500-1,000 BCE. He was one of the first in his part of the world to preach the idea of a single, non-corporal deity, as well as the idea of an eternal battle between good and evil. Fire factors into many Zoroastrian rituals, but they don't literally worship it, which is a common misconception.

In Hebrew school, my teachers taught us that ours was the first monotheistic religion. In my Hebrew teachers' defense, it was the 90s, and information was nowhere near as easy to come by as it is now; plus, half of them were in still high school themselves (our synagogue was tiny). In any case, Judaism took inspiration from Zoroastrianism. Zoroastrianism is to Judaism as "Dune" is to "Star Wars." And by extention, Christianity, Islam, Baha'ism, and the Druze religion have a bit of Zoroastrianism in them.

Zoroastrianism uh, declined after Islam became the main religion of Iran. Some Zoroastrians chose to remain in their homeland despite persecution. Others emigrated, and moved throughout the Middle East and South Asia before finally finding refuge in India. This group is now known as the Parsi people.

Freddie Mercury of Queen was a Zoroastrian Parsi.

Zoroastrianism has remained a small religion in numbers, not only due to the persecution, but also because like Judaism, Zoroastrianism has red tape for converts, which it doesn't seek out, and sometimes the kids of mixed marriages aren't counted as members of the faith. (Link)

However, Zoroastrianism is now making a comeback in Iran. The Islamic Republic of Iran has backfired, causing many Iranians to secretly leave Islam for other faiths. Since apostasy is punishable by death in Iran, the exact numbers of those who do so are hard to pinpoint, since they won't exactly broadcast it. Zoroastrianism, Baha'ism and Christianity are all popular choices, while many others are simply Atheist or Agnostic.

Zoroastrianism growing particularly among Kurds rediscovering their roots, and who particularly tend to feel disillusioned with Islam, what with the oppression and genocide and all that.

Many Iranian Muslims have a positive view of Zoroastrianism, recognizing its influence on their culture. Some more fundamentalist individuals on the other hand deny the identity and authenticity of this indigenous faith (And if you're Jewish, you're now saying to yourself, "Woa, deja vu!") But there are also many Muslim leaders who defend Zoroastrians, and call for peaceful coexistence.

And peaceful coexistence should always be the goal.

[tamamita]

Is masterbation haram

Mixed among schools of Islam. The Shafi'i and Maliki schools of Sunni Islam prohibits it, the Hanafi and Hanbali schools are fine with it if one is in a state of extreme sexual desire. Some Salafist scholars consider it obligatory if one can't satiate their sexual desire. (Rare Salafism w)

Most Ja'afari (Shi'a) scholars are of the opinion that it's prohibited and that Mut'ah (temporary marriage) acts as a solution to that. Minority scholars say it's fine, while some say it's fine for women (go women, I guess).

[radykalny-feminizm]

hi dear! wanted to preface saying i’m sorry ppl are coming after you for what you said about islam.

i’m a woman of color (christian background but not religious) who lives in europe in a city that has become unbearable because of muslim men & i completely share what you say.

anyway i wanted to add that me & my bestie were talking about this & my bestie said something that stuck with me. basically she said that for most cultures & religions, areas who are richer & have lower crime rates also report lower rates of violence against women. this doesn’t mean that they are not sexist because all cultures are sexist but that by improving public security & economic conditions the women in these areas can live better.

this is something you see in every continent for example. russia has far more crime & is poorer than switzerland & it has more violence against women. cape verde has less violence against women than south africa bc is richer (well not exactly but is less unequal thus the average person is actually better) & has less crime & also less violence against women. mexico has more violence against women than chile & uruguay & it has more poverty & crime as a whole. this is basically true worldwide, at least for countries with a christian tradition.

now this is not to say that culture doesn’t have an influence bc it has & highest rates of violence against women are also influenced by culture (& religion given that christianity is sexist af). also even the “best” countries have a lot of misogyny. but we see in many countries that by implementing public security measures & bettering the economic conditions, women can live better (even if ofc the goal is liberation not simply *bettering* conditions).

but this is not true of muslim countries. very rich muslim countries like saudi arabia have among the most draconian laws against women & lgbt ppl. the rate of economic development of some muslim african countries had not reduced things like fgm. economic development correlates positively with women’s freedom in europe, latin america, non-muslim africa & asia but not in muslim countries. many muslim countries have also very low rates of crime bc drug dealers, robbers, etc. are punished very harshly but still they have incredibly high rates of violence against women. like in other places it’s a mix of culture, religion, crime & socioeconomic conditions, in muslim countries is 99% religion & culture. getting richer wouldn’t help much. the same discourse can be made regarding rights for lgbt ppl.

i don’t want to whitewash women’s oppression in non-muslim countries bc my own country (angola) is so fucking misogynistic. what i’m saying is that other places are at least beginning to show a minimum level of open-mindedness, especially in some parts of non-muslim asia & latam with things like gay marriage (like in japan!). while it seems to me that the muslim world is going in the opposite direction. tell me what do you think 🩵

Thank you for your message; it is truly insightful, and gives much food for thought. It's true that economic factors influence crime, including violence against women. I believe this stems from the fact that individuals suffering from poverty and failures feel they have nothing to lose and succumb to their worst instincts, disregarding social norms.

The fact that muslims resort to violence against women regardless of their level of wealth and comfort in life stems from the fact that, for them, this behavior kind of behavior is considered a social norm.

That's why this religion is so dangerous. It doesn't provide a moral internal barrier against violence and oppression of women. Instead, it normalizes and encourages it.

[docpiplup]

9th part of the bookscans of Al Andalus. Historical Figures, here's the previous part

Eulogio and Álvaro de Córdoba: pursuing martyrdom

Under the reign of Abd al-Rahman II the Mozarabs of Córdoba, that is, the Christians who lived in Muslim lands, specifically those who lived in the emiral city, enjoyed prosperity and the tolerance typical of this emir. Anywhere in al-Andalus, from Córdoba to Mérida, from Seville to Zaragoza, the Christian churches were open for worship. The clergy could exercise his ministry, quietly, as long as he did not proselytize among the Muslims. There were convents of monks and nuns who lived without being bothered The Christian religion in Moorish lands had certain limitations such as the external manifestations, carrying out processions or ringing the bells. The Christian and Muslim communities lived together, without further ado, without problems... The clerics of both religions ignored each other, sure as were, in each faction, to be the possessors of the absolute truth. Now well, belittling religion in public, blaspheming, questioning dogmas of faith or apostatizing, carried within the Muslim religion the penalty of death, which was applied equally, depending on what crime it was, whether if the person was Moor or Christian.

Having made this exposition, it is worth highlighting that the Mozarabs of Cordoba had adopted many ways and fashions of the Muslims. Young Christians learned Arabic, studied and wrote poetry, just like the Islamic youth. Mixed marriages were not uncommon, after one of the spouses, usually the woman, converts to the other religion and it was also common for Christians, and very Christians, to maintain their own harem... It could not be denied that the brilliant Muslim civilization was conquering the Mozarabs, to the great displeasure of the priesthood class and some Christian religious fanatics.

This "Islamization", even if it was superficial, of the Christians aroused the suspicions of the abundant Christian clerics and Orthodox laymen, of way that a, let's say, Mozarabic opposition party emerged in Córdoba, led by the priest Eulogio and his faithful friend and biographer, Álvaro. Eulogio belonged to a rich Mozarabic family and one of his brothers was official in the Umayyad administration; two others were merchants prosperous, and his sister Anulona had become a nun. Eulogius himself had been ordained a priest in Córdoba, without much problem, and had his charge of the parish of San Zoilo. He had met his soul friend, Alvaro in the courses taught by Abbot Spera-in-Deo. As we can see, It can be not said that Christians suffered type of coercion to practice their religion, but in all faiths there is always the seed of fanaticism. Furthermore, an unfortunate incident was going to cause a crisis of great proportions.

The clergyman Perfecto, from the Cordoban church of San Acisclo, one day began to argue with some Muslims about

of the goodness of Jesus Christ and Muhammad, about which of the two had more merits. At first the discussion was on friendly terms, but later tempers were heating up and it seems that the Christian ended up insulting Muhammad. Momentarily nothing happened but someone ended up reporting Perfecto to the the cadi who ordered him to be arrested and sentenced to death. On April 18, 850, day of great holiday in Islam because that year was the date of the Breaking of the Fast, it was beheaded before the plebs who always enjoyed these barbaric spectacles.

Eulogio and Álvaro already had a martyr for the faith and began their propaganda among the Mozarabs of Cordoba, telling them about the torture suffered by the clergyman executed, opposing the Umayyad regime, raising spirits in such a way that every day the number of discontented Christians inclined to the ideas of Álvaro and Eulogio. On the other hand, the Córdoba police were more active than never against the Mozarabs. And suddenly a wave of mysticism, unknown until moment, took over the Christians of Cordoba, eager to suffer the martyrdom and achieving sainthood in the quickest way possible, which was achieved easily insulting Allah, cursing Muhammad and reviling Islam. That madness seemed unstoppable...six monks from the Tábanos monastery, a priest named Sisnando, a certain Isaac, also from the Tábanos monastery, a guard palatine named Sancho, the monk Teodomiro, the deacon Pablo... they all went to insulting Muhammad before the qadi and even inside the main mosque. The madness of martyrdom had taken hold of them like a malignant fever that spread before the

amazed eyes of the Muslims. In less than two months they had been eleven Mozarabs executed. Even two nuns, Flora and María, were executed on November 24, 851, after the Muslim authorities tried to convince them to recant to avoid the death sentence, but there was no way to achieve it. In prison Eulogio found Flora and was fascinated. It seemed like a angel and, perhaps without reaching him, he fell in love with that woman. When knew that she had been beheaded, he celebrated her death with a greater passion typical of a lover than of a clergyman who was insistently seeking, the martyrdom.

Abd al-Rahman II could have drowned this revolt in Mozarabic blood, but, so different from his father, he preferred to tackle it by another sensiblebway. Not all the Mozarabs, both clerics and laymen of Córdoba and from other places in al-Andalus, agreed with the extremists led by Eulogio and Álvaro. They feared that, in the end, the emir's reaction or the town, ended up attacking all of them and, as in so many sometimes, the righteous paid for sinners. So they approached Abd al-Rahman and proposed holding a council, presided over by Recafredo, metropolitan of Seville. The emir accepted this council to which, in addition, the bishops of all the Andalusian dioceses attended, the Umayyad government itself being represented by a Christian official, Gómez.

The Council opened in the year 852. Gómez, the official representative of the Government, exposed the futility of that sacrifice of lives that occurred by the exalted, asking the ecclesiastical authorities to disavow that non-

sense. Saúl, bishop of Córdoba, was the only one who defended martyrdom and the martyrs that had already occurred. The rest closed ranks with Recafredo who ruled that, from now on, the Christians of al-Andalus were prohibited from voluntarily seek martyrdom. This was considered suicide and as such he would be condemned by the Church. The leaders of the Mozarabic opposition party were arrested, among them Eulogio and the bishop of Córdoba, and imprisoned. It seemed that the waters were returning to their channel, but there was still some irreducibles who continued uttering blasphemies against Islam in the mosques in order to ensure martyrdom, and there were new convicts who were executed in the month of September 852. Six days later the emir died, unexpectedly, and the Christian extremists considered that the death was due to divine punishment.

When Abd al-Rahman II's son, Muhammad, acceded to the throne, Eulogius was released and left Córdoba. He visited Pamplona and lived for some time in Toledo, always recounting the "sufferings" of his life and his fanatical theses. When he returned to Córdoba he was met with the bitter disappointment that, even his most fervent supporters had opted for the peaceful route or, for the most part, were willing to abandon that intransigence that had only caused inconvenience and death. That's not why Eulogio let himself be discouraged. Him and his friend Álvaro, they returned to their preachings and the Mozarabic spirits stirred again... but Muhammad was not like his father. Faced with this situation, he ordered the demolition of the Tábanos monastery, which he considered the center of all unrest and possibly it was like that. Furthermore, the matter was becoming complicated because the Toledoan

Mozarabs who had listened to the sermons of the fanatic Eulogio, were also beginning to appear agitated and restless, choosing Eulogio as metropolitan of the city. The emir, of course, did not ratified this election.

Between the years 853 and 858 there were at least fourteen other martyrs volunteers, but Eulogio couldn't get them to finish him off. For more abundance, in those days, two French monks arrived in Córdoba, Usuard and Odilard, from the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Près, to request the remains of the martyrs from the emir and take them with them to France.

These two monks, at first, came to Spain, by order of their superior, Hildouin II, to collect the remains of S. Vicente de Zaragoza, patron of his abbey, but, having arrived in Barcelona, they had news that the saint's body was no longer in Valencia, where it was led, and that the hopes of being able to find him were zero. However, if they wanted to take advantage of the trip, they could go to Córdoba, where they found the relics of the Mozarabic martyrs who had been executed only a few years ago. This is what our French monks did. They arrived in the Umayyad capital and lived there for about two months, taking steps to allow them to take the relics of Jorge, Aurelio and Natalia, who had achieved martyrdom in July 852, what they achieved after quite a bit of effort. They started the journey back with his goal almost accomplished. They did not have S. Vicente, but they did returned with the remains of three martyrs, but when they arrived in France they found themselves with the unpleasant surprise that their community was refugee in

Esmans, since Paris was occupied by the Normans. A few years later, the monk Usuard received the commission from the monarch Charles the Bald to prepare a martyrology, and in it he included some references to those Andalusian martyrs, so that the Spanish saints passed to the French saints.

Muhammad's patience was wearing thin. In 859 Eulogio was imprisoned, and if we follow the great Dozy, the event occurred in the following way.

In Córdoba there lived a young woman, Leocricia, daughter of Muslims, but through a nun in the family, had converted to Christianity. She ended up confessing it to his parents who tried to get her to return to the bosom of the Mohammedan religion, but since they could not obtain it, they began to mistreat her. Leocricia was afraid that in the end her conversion would become public and asked Eulogio and his sister Anulona for help. Maybe Eulogio saw in Leocricia many of the traits of the already martyred Flora, who had so much shocked in his heart, and he promised that he would be by his side unconditionally.

Leocricia pretended to return to the faith of her elders and her parents trusted again in it, so they found it natural that one day, it would come out richly dressed and jeweled to go, as she said, to a wedding. But where she went to Eulogio and Anulona's house so they could take her to the house of one of her coreligionists and hid her.

Seeing that she did not return, the parents and the Córdoba police began the search of the girl, but they could not find her. It was his friendship with Anulona that cause of her perdi-

tion because she spent a day with her, and the servant who was to pick her up to return to her hiding place, she did not arrive until dawn. Fearing to be recognized if she went out at that time, she decided to stay one more day with her friend, until nightfall. But a spy or simply someone who knew where the fugitive was, told the cadi who sent soldiers to arrest Leocricia and Eulogio, who at that time was reaching his sister's house.

Brought before the cadi, Eulogio declared that he had taken care of instruct the young woman in Christianity in the same way as he would with the Muslim leader if he asked. Leocricia, confessed of apostasy, was sentenced to death, but Eulogio was only sentenced to be whipped.

Perhaps out of pride, Eulogio did not settle for the punishment of whipping. Everyone died before him! All his life preaching martyrdom, martyrdom that many of his supporters had suffered with joy, and he I was going to be less holy than them! It was something he couldn't consent. He was taken to the council room where one of the dignitaries who knew him since he was young, he asked him why he had such a desire to die, if there was no something in his life worth keeping. If he retracted of his continued blasphemies against Muhammad and Islam, he would be forgiven immediately.

The cultured Muslim society felt more pity than hatred for the fanatics and they also felt that they had to proceed to shed blood with those who seemed to have gone crazy. But for Eulogio there was no longer a possible retreat. If he had retracted, the contempt of his people would be even worse than death. So he stood firm

and he bravely climbed into the scaffold, prayed briefly and placed his head on the slash that was severed with a well-aimed blow. It was March 11, 859. Four days later Leocricia suffered the same fate.

His death caused a great impact in Christian Spain and immediately, Eulogio became a saint, a multitude of miracles were attributed to him everywhere.

Some years later, Alfonso, king of León, in a truce signed between him and the emir Muhammad, stipulated that one of the conditions was that the remains of S. Leocricia and S. Eulogio would be handed over, something that Muslims gave them a thousand loves.

Deprived of their most fiery champion, the Mozarabs of Córdoba were calming down on their own. Practically all types of opposition ceased and only on rare occasions there was the case of a new martyrdom.

[djuvlipen]

This is the most palatable form of activism you could come up with yet it's the only one liberals can fathom. It's always the same: amplify voices, educate yourself, donate to liberal associations and/or NGOs.

Two problems:

- amplifying voices and educating yourselves both put the emphasis on the individual yet what Romnia need is an actual movement that highlights the struggles we face *collectively, as a group*, and not as mere, isolated individuals you can dissasociate from their mothers, sisters and friends.

- European NGOs have been undermining, isolating and crushing Romani grassroots movements precisely because the big Romani rights associations and NGOs want to push a neoliberal agenda that goes against the well being of the Romani working class, ie >80% of the global Romani population. In this context giving to NGOs harms Roma in the long run, although it can provide some relief in the short run.

When they say "give to (this or that) Romani creator", same problem: emphasis on the individual, not on Roma as a people facing a common struggle, with the added injury that those english-speaking self-employed Romani creators on the internet are more likely to be mixed with white and middle-class, and therefore privileged over the dark skin working class majority.

Of course they would rather say "donate to NGOs and educate yourself" (and don't watch Wandavision and don't say the g slur and what have you) because it would make them too uncomfortable and make them feel too threatened in their privileged, middle-class lifestyle to say that supporting Romani women actually means:

- dismantling the sex trade and abolishing prostitution (in a very white, very gentrified manner, several of the associations listed actually want to decriminalize raping Romani women for money)

- abolish sexist Romani cultural practices like the pañuelo, dowry and child marriages

- abolish religions, Christianity and Islam at the top of the list

- fund more shelters and clinics to actually help homeless women, alcoholic and drug addicted women

- stop pushing Romani neighbourhoods and building Romani designated areas in highly polluted sites

- condemn segregation and give proper formations to healthcare professionals, teachers and administrators when it comes to accompanying Romani women and children in hospitals, at school and with administrative papers

[hindulivesmatter]

You literally called "love jihad" a crime against Hindus. So, people electing to have interfaith marriages are somehow committing a crime against Hinduism by doing so. Muslim men who marry Hindu women are doing it to carry out some type of Great Replacement by converting them to Islam to make India more Muslim.

I wanted to put that plainly because you're clearly banking on that your non-Indian followers don't know what that means. You are saying that people choosing to marry who they love are somehow against Hinduism because those people are not Hindus. You are claiming that Muslim men who fall for Hindu women are actually part of some great conspiracy.

I want people to understand how crazy and conspiracist this logic is so they understand why to take every claim you have of "hindus are still oppressed in India" with a massive grain of salt. You are literally promoting the Hindu version of The Great Replacement Theory and of white people panicking over white women having mixed race babies.

You do not care about Muslims. It is a smokescreen. You think they are lesser and you support people oppressing them.

Yes, love jihad is extremely dangerous to Hindus. Luring a girl under false pretenses and then converting her without her consent is called love jihad. That is not the same as interfaith marriage.

Do you want me to deny the alarming number of cases of women being murdered by their Muslim partners? Or the fact that if a couple is entering an interfaith marriage, always have to convert to Islam. By that logic then, why can't the Muslim person convert to Hinduism?

I'm banking on my non-Indian followers? If they don't know what it means, they can either ask or do a Google search.

"You are saying that people choosing to marry who they love are somehow against Hinduism because those people are not Hindus."

When the fuck did I ever say that? Stop putting words in my mouth holy fucking shit.

"You are claiming that Muslim men who fall for Hindu women are actually part of some great conspiracy."

Again, NO. I am saying that there are cases of Muslim men, CHANGING THEIR NAMES TO HINDU NAMES, WEARING HINDU SYMBOLS, and courting Hindu women. They then reveal themselves after they are married. Do you even hear how insane you sound?

"I want people to understand how crazy and conspiracist this logic is so they understand why to take every claim you have of "Hindus are still oppressed in India" with a massive grain of salt. You are literally promoting the Hindu version of The Great Replacement Theory and of white people panicking over white women having mixed-race babies."

I'm sorry, I had to laugh here. What the fuck is wrong with you. Did you even go through my blog before sending me this? I literally reblog cases of actual Hinduphobia and violence against Hindus. That's literally it.

"You do not care about Muslims. It is a smokescreen. You think they are lesser and you support people oppressing them."

Bro. I'm sorry, so just speaking up about Hinduphobia means I do not care about Muslims? I promise it isn't that deep. We don't have an agenda like the one you've made up in your head. All we want is to co-exist in PEACE. I will never understand you people. Violence against Muslims is a real thing, and I 100% condemn it. You make up shit about us in your head, and pretend we're foaming at the mouth, ready to murder all the Muslims. You lunatic.

[sisterssafespace]

Assalam ‘alaykum sister…

First of all I want to thank you for this safe space you’ve created, I was looking for someone to advice me in real life but I couldn’t find anyone, alhamdulillah I remembered this blog.

In these past two months I’ve been getting to know a guy with marriage in mind.

It’s the first time he hadapproached a girl so he’s a bit clumsy but I feel like he tries his best.

Lately we were discussing about mixed friendship, mind you, we both live in Italy but I was born and rised here while he was rised in Egypt.

I lived my whole life in contact with the opposite gender so I kind of created my boundaries (religiously speaking) and found my balance.

During these discussions I brought how in the future InshAllah, if Allah grants me a family and a house I want it to be always full of friends (by friends I meant man and women) or how I like to play cards during breaks in uni with my male colleagues (I’m a stem major). He was quite bothered by this, he said that he knows himself and knows that these things will be a problem for him in the future.

He went on bringing up how in Islam it’s not permissible to have these kind of close interactions to the opposite gender, I know it shouldn’t have but it kind of irked me. We decided to genuinely look up these things and understand if we can arrive to an agreement

I have a really bubbly personality… I fear that if I was to compromise on this I’ll lose a part of me. But I don’t want to end things with him because I got attached (I know I shouldn’t…)

I’m 23 and I don’t know if I’m making the right choices, I fear I’m hurrying myself to get to know another person while I’m lost between uni and trying to form my own views about the world while trying my best to preserve my deen.

In your opinion, what’s the approach I should take? Which things should I keep in mind while getting to know another person?

May Allah grant you all that your heart desires and may He nourish your life. Allahumma amin

Assalamualaikum habibty, First of all, thank you for the sweet words at the beginning of your ask, may Allah swt use us for the benefit of our ummah and the women of our ummah ameen. I also want to express how impressed and proud I am of the way you speak, which can only reflect the growth, sophistication, and politeness you have; I really loved how you speak and voice your thoughts! May Allah swt bless you! If we were to know each other irl we would have absolutely been friends because you sound mature, calm, confident, warm, and especially elegant in the way you speak to others and very respectful, Allahuma berik laki I am totally inn love with your manners! And that is why I will allow myself to speak to you as your older sister if you accept that.

So, I have a couple of points I want to tackle. Firstly, and most importantly I need you to be completely honest with yourself and with Allah swt. How so? Now in your ask you kept mentioning that you want to preserve your deen the best that you can, you struggled a bit and then you found your balance etc etc, and then you said that you don't want to lose a bit of your personality or a part of yourself by giving up these friendships for this guy. Let me tell you sweetie, you shouldn't! You shouldn't give up ANY part of you for any guy, but you HAVE TO give up whatever it takes FOR THE SAKE OF ALLAH SWT. What I mean is if you were to stop the free mixing (because playing cards with guys is free mixing, let's call a spade a spade and name things for what they really are) because a guy asked you to, it will not sit well with you if you are not convinced deep down that it is impermissible and plain wrong for Muslims to do so, and you will end up resenting the guy whether it is this potential suitor or the next guy or just your future husband, in general. The thing is, you remind so so so much of my old self, tbh the community I was raised in doesn't differ much from the Italian community and basically my whole life I was friends with guys and it came very naturally to me because that was the norm in my environment so I do know and I do understand very well your position right now; however, it is simply not permissible my dear, now that you have access to this piece of information you can't just overlook it - you can ask any Sheikh or Imam, in Islam we do interact with the opposite gender but with rules and restrictions, Allah swt instilled these conditions or boundaries to protect us, not to ruin our lives or make us less of who we really are. And let me tell you something that I have also experienced firsthand, whenever you give up something or a certain relationship in your life FOR THE SAKE OF ALLAH SWT, Allah WILL replace it with another relationship a billion times better; for me for example, when I decided to give up my mixed friendships, Allah swt made me meet the most amazing sisters who completely changed my life and continue to do so and to be there for me, to teach me and inspire me everyday! But I know it is not easy to give up your lifestyle and what you were used to, and basically, that's all you've known since forever, but honey, you have to always remember that Allah swt puts us to test, to check the level of honesty and sincerity when we say that we do believe. This is your test and you have to prove to Allah swt that you are sincere in your faith and obedience to your Creator. I just need to highlight that if you choose to do this and cut off your 'extracurricular' interactions with the opposite gender, you need to have the intention that you are doing so for the sake of Allah swt and not for the sake of this guy; which brings me to my second point:

YOU ARE STILL YOUNG! There is so much you need to learn and discover about your own self, your faith, and work to be the best version of yourself you can be. Personally, I don't approve of getting attached to a guy so soon and biding your life to his choices or decisions, especially that there is nothing serious between you two. You did say he approached you with the intention of marriage, well he might as well approach your family and make it halal, that's one - and two I honestly do not believe that a guy in Italy hasn't approached a girl for a serious talk before but idk, Allah knows best. So to wrap up, as an older sister, I advise you to take a step back and evaluate your life, and ask yourself " is it worth it?" these friendships and this 'fun' is it worth the moment where you're gonna stand up in front of Allah swt on judgment day and be asked about it? talking to this guy right now, is it worth it? Always consider the moment you're going to be asked about whatever you're doing in front of Allah swt and decide if it's worth carrying on.. P.s. About you always dreaming of having a house full of friends and hosting parties and having fun, I just want to say there is fun on the halal side of things, in shaa Allah one day when you have your own home and your own family, you can host your friends still and make a separate gathering, all the girls together all the guys together, you will meet a wonderful community and you will befriend a lot of amazing women and you can all be friends and it will be your social circle and you'll visit each other and your husbands will be friends and your kids will be like cousins and everything will be better than you could have ever imagined, only because it is a situation and a scene that pleases Allah swt so He swt will bless it :')

Work on yourself, on educating yourself religiously, on getting closer to Allah swt, on becoming a better version of yourself and you will see your life transforming to a level you wouldn't have ever dreamt of my dear! May Allah swt bless you immensely and help you see rightfulness and make the right decisions in life!

I hope to hear from you soon!

Fi Aman Allah,

A. Z.

[eaglesnick]

“Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by rulers as useful.”  Seneca the Younger

Nigel Farage is jetting off to the USA for a second time in a month. Pocketing  £12,000 for a speech at the “Keep Arizona Free Summit". it appears he is more interested in increasing his own personal wealth than serving the people of Clacton who elected him as their MP.

The “Keep Arizona Free” flier has this billing:

“Featuring Keynote Speaker Nigel Farage. Also known as “Mr Brexit", is a British politician, broadcaster and political analyst” (Keep Arizona Free Summit 2024)

Other speakers include the crusading Christian Brandon Tatum, a man who converted to Christianity in 2008 and now says he is working for the “Great Commission”. This means Tate is an evangelical Christian.

Unfortunately, Tate goes beyond simply preaching the word of God. Much like political Islam and Islamic extremists, Tate combines his faith with politics. He describes the Democratic Party in America as “the enemy".

“You cannot say that you are a Christian and you believe in Christian values and you turn around and vote for a party that believes in mutilating kids and gay marriage and all this other stuff,”  (Tate: 30/11/23)

I’m not sure how much child mutilation and “other stuff” happened under democrats Obama and Joe Biden but mixing politics and religion is a recipe for intolerance and dictatorship: just look to Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Mauritania and Yemen where Islamic theocratic governments rule with an iron fist. But don’t think a Christian theocratic dictatorship could not happen in the West.

“Jesus is their saviour, Trump is their candidate” was a recent headline in an apnews.com article.  And reiterating the hatred of liberal politicians, espoused by Nigel Farage’s fellow speaker Brandon Tate, Time Magazine said this:

“Trump has white evangelicals in his pocket. Whatever cognitive dissonance some devout Christians may feel for supporting a twice-impeached serial philandering liar who tried to stage a coup and threatens violence against political opponents is easily dismissed with the conviction that no Republican nominee, no matter how problematic, could be worse than losing to a Democrat.”

Another speaker sharing the Keep Arizona Free Summit platform with Nigel Farage is James T. Harris, another deeply religious man on the right of US politics, a man “committed to faith".

Farage will be in the company of like-minded people. Speaking of Britain, Farage said:

"We are a Christian country with a Christian constitution and a Christian monarch…I absolutely believe in Christian values that have made this country great." (Daily Mirror: 19/12/2015)

According to Evangelical Focus, only 6% of the UK population are practicing Christians, while 42% are non-practicing Christians. This presents Farage with a problem. Declaring his Christian believes will not bring him many votes, unlike in the USA where political evangelicalism thrives. But don’t believe for one minute right wing Christians don’t look to Farage as a UK saviour in the same way fundamentalist Christians in America look toward Trump.

This was a headline during the recent UK election campaigne:

“Reform UK: The Best Option for British Christians”. (Crisis Magazine: 01/07/24)

Fundamentalist Christians, like fundamentalist Islamist, are totally intolerant of people with values and believes that do not match their particulate brand of religious zealotry. 

Railing against the concept of social justice, Crisis said that Christians in the western world (do they mean white Christians?) were:

“..ignoring the voting recommendations of bishops wedded to a “social justice” ideology largely developed by the very same prelates, priests, thinkers, and activists who variously tolerate, implicitly accept, or actively favor sexual immorality, female ordination, liturgical abuses and numerous other evils—turning instead to such parties as the Brothers of Italy, Poland’s Law and Justice Party, and France’s National Rally.”

There you have it. GOOD Christians vote for the far-right. BAD Christians vote for liberal democracy, which brings us back to the “Keep Arizona Free Summit" and its guest speakers.

All three are regarded as “good Christians” hence their invitation to speak.

I am sure the people of Clacton, where over half of those over 16 are “economically inactive” will be cheering their support as Farage pockets his £12,000  fee as a “good Christian”. Maybe, he will ask his fellow speakers to pray for the one-in-three children in Clacton who are living in poverty? Maybe Farage, the highest paid MP in Parliament, will take heed of what Jesus said about riches.

 “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.” (Matthew 19:12)

Maybe, but I sincerely doubt it.

[ynx1]

Ten Types of Modesty حیا

Ibn-ul Qayyim (raḥimahullāh) mentioned in his book Madarij us Saalikeen Vol. 2 Pg. 267 “Al Hayaa’ (i.e. modesty) is categorized into ten types:

1. The modesty of Shame: This is similar to the modesty of Adam (Alaihis salam) when he fled in paradise after eating from the forbidden tree. Allah asked him “Are you fleeing form me O Adam because of your sin?” He said: “No my lord! Rather it is out of shame that I flee from you!”

2. The modesty that results in you realizing your shortcomings such as; the modesty of the angels, those who praise Allah day and night and never enervate. On the Day of Judgment they will say Subhanaka! (i.e. Glory be to You!) we did not worship You as You deserved to be worshiped.”

3. The modesty of Magnification: This modesty is a result of knowledge. The extent of knowledge the slave has of his Lord, will determine how modest or shy of Him he/she is.

4. The modesty of Generosity: This is similar to the modesty of the Prophet (Sallahu alaihi wa salam) with those people he invited to the walimah (i.e. marriage banquet) of Zaynab Bint Jahsh (Radiyallahu anha)and they stayed with him longer than necessary, so he stood up and walked away without saying to them “Leave!”.

5. The modesty of Embarrassment: This is similar to the modesty of Ali Ibn Talib (Radiyallahu anhu)when he was too embarrassed to ask the Prophet himself about the pre-seminal discharge he was experiencing, because he was married to his daughter.

6. The modesty of Low self-worth: This is similar to the modesty of the slave in front of his lord when he asks Him for his needs, knowing that he doesn’t deserve it. In a narration of Bani Israel Musa (Alaihis salam) said: “O lord, a need or desire of this life arises and I am too modest to ask You for it O lord!” So Allah responded to him by saying: “Ask me for what whatever you like, whether it is the salt for your dough or the fodder for your herd!” And it is possible that this is because of two things:

7. The modesty of Love: This is the modesty of the one who loves another, and when he thinks in his heart of the one he loves during his absence, his modesty for him is greater than what he feels for him in his presence and he doesn’t even know why. There is no doubt that the love of a person has a stronger and more magnificent authority over the individual than the authority of the one who conquers the body physically. And because of this, kings and elite authority wonder in amazement about creation and how they are conquered because of the love they have for someone greater than they are conquered by power and physical authority. We asked Sheikh ul Islam Ibn Taymiyah (Rahimahullah) about this issue, and I mentioned this to him and he just smiled and didn’t say anything.

8. The modesty of Servitude: This is the type of modesty that is mixed with love and fear while witnessing that there is no perfection in his worship or servitude to the One he worships. And the slave acknowledges that his Lord is greater and more opulent than what he is offering of worship, so his servitude to Allah causes him to be modest of Him, and there is no way around this.

9. The modesty of honor and dignity: The modesty of the noble and prestigious soul. if he does something that is beneath his caliber, either by exerting himself or doing some random act of good, he is modest despite what he has exerted of himself with a type of modesty that is honorable and dignified, and there are two reasons for this:

10. The modesty of an individual regarding himself: This is the modesty of the noble, honorable and dignified individual due to him being pleased with the fact that he has some shortcomings. He prostrates himself out of modesty as if he has two personalities. He is modest with one regarding the other and this is the most complete form of modesty. If the slave is modest regarding himself then he is more likely to be modest in front of others

[mithliya]

Here is a critique: Argue all you want with many feminist policies, but few quarrel with feminism’s core moral insight, which changed the lives (and minds) of women forever: that women are due the same rights and dignity as men. So, as news of the appalling miseries of women in the Islamic world has piled up, where are the feminists? Where’s the outrage? For a brief moment after September 11, when pictures of those blue alien-creaturely shapes in Afghanistan filled the papers, it seemed as if feminists were going to have their moment. And in fact the Feminist Majority, to its credit, had been publicizing since the mid-90s how Afghan girls were barred from school, how women were stoned for adultery or beaten for showing an ankle or wearing high-heeled shoes, how they were prohibited from leaving the house unless accompanied by a male relative, how they were denied medical help because the only doctors around were male.

But the rest is feminist silence. You haven’t heard a peep from feminists as it has grown clear that the Taliban were exceptional not in their extreme views about women but in their success at embodying those views in law and practice. In the United Arab Emirates, husbands have the right to beat their wives in order to discipline them—“provided that the beating is not so severe as to damage her bones or deform her body,” in the words of the Gulf News. In Saudi Arabia, women cannot vote, drive, or show their faces or talk with male non-relatives in public. (Evidently they can’t talk to men over the airwaves either; when Prince Abdullah went to President Bush’s ranch in Crawford last April, he insisted that no female air-traffic controllers handle his flight.) Yes, Saudi girls can go to school, and many even attend the university; but at the university, women must sit in segregated rooms and watch their professors on closed-circuit televisions. If they have a question, they push a button on their desk, which turns on a light at the professor’s lectern, from which he can answer the female without being in her dangerous presence. And in Saudi Arabia, education can be harmful to female health. Last spring in Mecca, members of the mutaween, the Commission for the Promotion of Virtue, pushed fleeing students back into their burning school because they were not properly covered in abaya. Fifteen girls died.

You didn’t hear much from feminists when in the northern Nigerian province of Katsina a Muslim court sentenced a woman to death by stoning for having a child outside of marriage. The case might not have earned much attention—stonings are common in parts of the Muslim world—except that the young woman, who had been married off at 14 to a husband who ultimately divorced her when she lost her virginal allure, was still nursing a baby at the time of sentencing. During her trial she had no lawyer, although the court did see fit to delay her execution until she weans her infant.

You didn’t hear much from feminists as it emerged that honor killings by relatives, often either ignored or only lightly punished by authorities, are also commonplace in the Muslim world. In September, Reuters reported the story of an Iranian man, “defending my honor, family, and dignity,” who cut off his seven-year-old daughter’s head after suspecting she had been raped by her uncle. The postmortem showed the girl to be a virgin. In another family mix-up, a Yemeni man shot his daughter to death on her wedding night when her husband claimed she was not a virgin. After a medical exam revealed that the husband was mistaken, officials concluded he was simply trying to protect himself from embarrassment about his own impotence. According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, every day two women are slain by male relatives seeking to avenge the family honor.

The savagery of some of these murders is worth a moment’s pause. In 2000, two Punjabi sisters, 20 and 21 years old, had their throats slit by their brother and cousin because the girls were seen talking to two boys to whom they were not related. In one especially notorious case, an Egyptian woman named Nora Marzouk Ahmed fell in love and eloped. When she went to make amends with her father, he cut off her head and paraded it down the street. Several years back, according to the Washington Post, the husband of Zahida Perveen, a 32-year-old pregnant Pakistani, gouged out her eyes and sliced off her earlobe and nose because he suspected her of having an affair.

In a related example widely covered last summer, a teenage girl in the Punjab was sentenced by a tribal council to rape by a gang that included one of the councilmen. After the hour-and-a-half ordeal, the girl was forced to walk home naked in front of scores of onlookers. She had been punished because her 11-year-old brother had compromised another girl by being been seen alone with her. But that charge turned out to be a ruse: it seems that three men of a neighboring tribe had sodomized the boy and accused him of illicit relations—an accusation leading to his sister’s barbaric punishment—as a way of covering up their crime.

Nor is such brutality limited to backward, out-of-the-way villages. Muddassir Rizvi, a Pakistani journalist, says that, though always common in rural areas, in recent years honor killings have become more prevalent in cities “among educated and liberal families.” In relatively modern Jordan, honor killings were all but exempt from punishment until the penal code was modified last year; unfortunately, a young Palestinian living in Jordan, who had recently stabbed his 19-year-old sister 40 times “to cleanse the family honor,” and another man from near Amman, who ran over his 23-year-old sister with his truck because of her “immoral behavior,” had not yet changed their ways. British psychiatrist Anthony Daniels reports that British Muslim men frequently spirit their young daughters back to their native Pakistan and force the girls to marry. Such fathers have been known to kill daughters who resist. In Sweden, in one highly publicized case, Fadima Sahindal, an assimilated 26-year-old of Kurdish origin, was murdered by her father after she began living with her Swedish boyfriend. “The whore is dead,” the family announced.

As you look at this inventory of brutality, the question bears repeating: Where are the demonstrations, the articles, the petitions, the resolutions, the vindications of the rights of Islamic women by American feminists? The weird fact is that, even after the excesses of the Taliban did more to forge an American consensus about women’s rights than 30 years of speeches by Gloria Steinem, feminists refused to touch this subject. They have averted their eyes from the harsh, blatant oppression of millions of women, even while they have continued to stare into the Western patriarchal abyss, indignant over female executives who cannot join an exclusive golf club and college women who do not have their own lacrosse teams.

But look more deeply into the matter, and you realize that the sound of feminist silence about the savage fundamentalist Muslim oppression of women has its own perverse logic. The silence is a direct outgrowth of the way feminist theory has developed in recent years. Now mired in self-righteous sentimentalism, multicultural nonjudgmentalism, and internationalist utopianism, feminism has lost the language to make the universalist moral claims of equal dignity and individual freedom that once rendered it so compelling. No wonder that most Americans, trying to deal with the realities of a post-9/11 world, are paying feminists no mind.

To understand the current sisterly silence about the sort of tyranny that the women’s movement came into existence to attack, it is helpful to think of feminisms plural rather than singular. Though not entirely discrete philosophies, each of three different feminisms has its own distinct reasons for causing activists to “lose their voice” in the face of women’s oppression.

The first variety—radical feminism (or gender feminism, in Christina Hoff Sommers’s term)—starts with the insight that men are, not to put too fine a point upon it, brutes. Radical feminists do not simply subscribe to the reasonable-enough notion that men are naturally more prone to aggression than women. They believe that maleness is a kind of original sin. Masculinity explains child abuse, marital strife, high defense spending, every war from Troy to Afghanistan, as well as Hitler, Franco, and Pinochet. As Gloria Steinem informed the audience at a Florida fundraiser last March: “The cult of masculinity is the basis for every violent, fascist regime.”

Gender feminists are little interested in fine distinctions between radical Muslim men who slam commercial airliners into office buildings and soldiers who want to stop radical Muslim men from slamming commercial airliners into office buildings. They are both examples of generic male violence—and specifically, male violence against women. “Terrorism is on a continuum that starts with violence within the family, battery against women, violence against women in the society, all the way up to organized militaries that are supported by taxpayer money,” according to Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, who teaches “The Sexuality of Terrorism” at California State University in Hayward. Violence is so intertwined with male sexuality that, she tells us, military pilots watch porn movies before they go out on sorties. The war in Afghanistan could not possibly offer a chance to liberate women from their oppressors, since it would simply expose women to yet another set of oppressors, in the gender feminists’ view. As Sharon Lerner asserted bizarrely in the Village Voice, feminists’ “discomfort” with the Afghanistan bombing was “deepened by the knowledge that more women than men die as a result of most wars.”

If guys are brutes, girls are their opposite: peace-loving, tolerant, conciliatory, and reasonable—“Antiwar and Pro-Feminist,” as the popular peace-rally sign goes. Feminists long ago banished tough-as-nails women like Margaret Thatcher and Jeanne Kirkpatrick (and these days, one would guess, even the fetching Condoleezza Rice) to the ranks of the imperfectly female. Real women, they believe, would never justify war. “Most women, Western and Muslim, are opposed to war regardless of its reasons and objectives,” wrote the Jordanian feminist Fadia Faqir on OpenDemocracy.net. “They are concerned with emancipation, freedom (personal and civic), human rights, power sharing, integrity, dignity, equality, autonomy, power-sharing [sic], liberation, and pluralism.”

Sara Ruddick, author of Maternal Thinking, is perhaps one of the most influential spokeswomen for the position that women are instinctually peaceful. According to Ruddick (who clearly didn’t have Joan Crawford in mind), that’s because a good deal of mothering is naturally governed by the Gandhian principles of nonviolence such as “renunciation,” “resistance to injustice,” and “reconciliation.” The novelist Barbara Kingsolver was one of the first to demonstrate the subtleties of such universal maternal thinking after the United States invaded Afghanistan. “I feel like I’m standing on a playground where the little boys are all screaming ‘He started it!’ and throwing rocks,” she wrote in the Los Angeles Times. “I keep looking for somebody’s mother to come on the scene saying, ‘Boys! Boys!’ ”

Gender feminism’s tendency to reduce foreign affairs to a Lifetime Channel movie may make it seem too silly to bear mentioning, but its kitschy naiveté hasn’t stopped it from being widespread among elites. You see it in widely read writers like Kingsolver, Maureen Dowd, and Alice Walker. It turns up in our most elite institutions. Swanee Hunt, head of the Women in Public Policy Program at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government wrote, with Cristina Posa in Foreign Policy: “The key reason behind women’s marginalization may be that everyone recognizes just how good women are at forging peace.” Even female elected officials are on board. “The women of all these countries should go on strike, they should all sit down and refuse to do anything until their men agree to talk peace,” urged Ohio representative Marcy Kaptur to the Arab News last spring, echoing an idea that Aristophanes, a dead white male, proposed as a joke 2,400 years ago. And President Clinton is an advocate of maternal thinking, too. “If we’d had women at Camp David,” he said in July 2000, “we’d have an agreement.”

Major foundations too seem to take gender feminism seriously enough to promote it as an answer to world problems. Last December, the Ford Foundation and the Soros Open Society Foundation helped fund the Afghan Women’s Summit in Brussels to develop ideas for a new government in Afghanistan. As Vagina Monologues author Eve Ensler described it on her website, the summit was made up of “meetings and meals, canvassing, workshops, tears, and dancing.” “Defense was mentioned nowhere in the document,” Ensler wrote proudly of the summit’s concluding proclamation—despite the continuing threat in Afghanistan of warlords, bandits, and lingering al-Qaida operatives. “[B]uilding weapons or instruments of retaliation was not called for in any category,” Ensler cooed. “Instead [the women] wanted education, health care, and the protection of refugees, culture, and human rights.”

Too busy celebrating their own virtue and contemplating their own victimhood, gender feminists cannot address the suffering of their Muslim sisters realistically, as light years worse than their own petulant grievances. They are too intent on hating war to ask if unleashing its horrors might be worth it to overturn a brutal tyranny that, among its manifold inhumanities, treats women like animals. After all, hating war and machismo is evidence of the moral superiority that comes with being born female.

Yet the gender feminist idea of superior feminine virtue is becoming an increasingly tough sell for anyone actually keeping up with world events. Kipling once wrote of the fierceness of Afghan women: “When you’re wounded and left on the Afghan plains/And the women come out to cut up your remains/Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains.” Now it’s clearer than ever that the dream of worldwide sisterhood is no more realistic than worldwide brotherhood; culture trumps gender any day. Mothers all over the Muslim world are naming their babies Usama or praising Allah for their sons’ efforts to kill crusading infidels. Last February, 28-year-old Wafa Idris became the first female Palestinian suicide bomber to strike in Israel, killing an elderly man and wounding scores of women and children. And in April, Israeli soldiers discovered under the maternity clothes of 26-year-old Shifa Adnan Kodsi a bomb rather than a baby. Maternal thinking, indeed.

The second variety of feminism, seemingly more sophisticated and especially prevalent on college campuses, is multiculturalism and its twin, postcolonialism. The postcolonial feminist has even more reason to shy away from the predicament of women under radical Islam than her maternally thinking sister. She believes that the Western world is so sullied by its legacy of imperialism that no Westerner, man or woman, can utter a word of judgment against former colonial peoples. Worse, she is not so sure that radical Islam isn’t an authentic, indigenous—and therefore appropriate—expression of Arab and Middle Eastern identity.

The postmodern philosopher Michel Foucault, one of the intellectual godfathers of multiculturalism and postcolonialism, first set the tone in 1978 when an Italian newspaper sent him to Teheran to cover the Iranian revolution. As his biographer James Miller tells it, Foucault looked in the face of Islamic fundamentalism and saw . . . an awe-inspiring revolt against “global hegemony.” He was mesmerized by this new form of “political spirituality” that, in a phrase whose dark prescience he could not have grasped, portended the “transfiguration of the world.” Even after the Ayatollah Khomeini came to power and reintroduced polygamy and divorce on the husband’s demand with automatic custody to fathers, reduced the official female age of marriage from 18 to 13, fired all female judges, and ordered compulsory veiling, whose transgression was to be punished by public flogging, Foucault saw no reason to temper his enthusiasm. What was a small matter like women’s basic rights, when a struggle against “the planetary system” was at hand?

Postcolonialists, then, have their own binary system, somewhat at odds with gender feminism—not to mention with women’s rights. It is not men who are the sinners; it is the West. It is not women who are victimized innocents; it is the people who suffered under Western colonialism, or the descendants of those people, to be more exact. Caught between the rock of patriarchy and the hard place of imperialism, the postcolonial feminist scholar gingerly tiptoes her way around the subject of Islamic fundamentalism and does the only thing she can do: she focuses her ire on Western men.

The most impressive signs of an indigenous female revolt against the fundamentalist order are in Iran. Over the past ten years or so, Iran has seen the publication of a slew of serious journals dedicated to the social and political predicament of Islamic women, the most well known being the Teheran-based Zonan and Zan, published by Faezah Hashemi, a well-known member of parliament and the daughter of former president Rafsanjani. Believing that Western feminism has promoted hostility between the sexes, confused sex roles, and the sexual objectification of women, a number of writers have proposed an Islamic-style feminism that would stress “gender complementarity” rather than equality and that would pay full respect to housewifery and motherhood while also giving women access to education and jobs.

Attacking from the religious front, a number of “Islamic feminists” are challenging the reigning fundamentalist reading of the Qur’an. These scholars insist that the founding principles of Islam, which they believe were long ago corrupted by pre-Islamic Arab, Persian, and North African customs, are if anything more egalitarian than those of Western religions; the Qur’an explicitly describes women as the moral and spiritual equals of men and allows them to inherit and pass down property. The power of misogynistic mullahs has grown in recent decades, feminists continue, because Muslim men have felt threatened by modernity’s challenge to traditional arrangements between the sexes.

What makes Islamic feminism really worth watching is that it has the potential to play a profoundly important role in the future of the Islamic world—and not just because it could improve the lot of women. By insisting that it is true to Islam—in fact, truer than the creed espoused by the entrenched religious elite—Islamic feminism can affirm the dignity of Islam while at the same time bringing it more in line with modernity. In doing this, feminists can help lay the philosophical groundwork for democracy. In the West, feminism lagged behind religious reformation and political democratization by centuries; in the East, feminism could help lead the charge.

At the same time, though, the issue of women’s rights highlights two reasons for caution about the Islamic future. For one thing, no matter how much feminists might wish otherwise, polygamy and male domination of the family are not merely a fact of local traditions; they are written into the Qur’an itself. This in and of itself would not prove to be such an impediment—the Old Testament is filled with laws antithetical to women’s equality—except for the second problem: more than other religions, Islam is unfriendly to the notion of the separation of church and state. If history is any guide, there’s the rub. The ultimate guarantor of the rights of all citizens, whether Islamic or not, can only be a fully secular state.

To this end, the postcolonialist eagerly dips into the inkwell of gender feminism. She ties colonialist exploitation and domination to maleness; she might refer to Israel’s “masculinist military culture”—Israel being white and Western—though she would never dream of pointing out the “masculinist military culture” of the jihadi. And she expends a good deal of energy condemning Western men for wanting to improve the lives of Eastern women. At the turn of the twentieth century Lord Cromer, the British vice consul of Egypt and a pet target of postcolonial feminists, argued that the “degradation” of women under Islam had a harmful effect on society. Rubbish, according to the postcolonialist feminist. His words are simply part of “the Western narrative of the quintessential otherness and inferiority of Islam,” as Harvard professor Leila Ahmed puts it in Women and Gender in Islam. The same goes for American concern about Afghan women; it is merely a “device for ranking the ‘other’ men as inferior or as ‘uncivilized,’ ” according to Nira Yuval-Davis, professor of gender and ethnic studies at the University of Greenwich, England. These are all examples of what renowned Columbia professor Gayatri Spivak called “white men saving brown women from brown men.”

Spivak’s phrase, a great favorite on campus, points to the postcolonial notion that brown men, having been victimized by the West, can never be oppressors in their own right. If they give the appearance of treating women badly, the oppression they have suffered at the hands of Western colonial masters is to blame. In fact, the worse they treat women, the more they are expressing their own justifiable outrage. “When men are traumatized [by colonial rule], they tend to traumatize their own women,” Miriam Cooke, a Duke professor and head of the Association for Middle East Women’s Studies, told me. And today, Cooke asserts, brown men are subjected to a new form of imperialism. “Now there is a return of colonialism that we saw in the nineteenth century in the context of globalization,” she says. “What is driving Islamist men is globalization.”

It would be difficult to exaggerate the through-the-looking-glass quality of postcolonialist theory when it comes to the subject of women. Female suicide bombers are a good thing, because they are strong women demonstrating “agency” against colonial powers. Polygamy too must be shown due consideration. “Polygamy can be liberating and empowering,” Cooke answered sunnily when I asked her about it. “Our norm is the Western, heterosexual, single couple. If we can imagine different forms that would allow us to be something other than a heterosexual couple, we might imagine polygamy working,” she explained murkily. Some women, she continued, are relieved when their husbands take a new wife: they won’t have to service him so often. Or they might find they now have the freedom to take a lover. But, I ask, wouldn’t that be dangerous in places where adulteresses can be stoned to death? At any rate, how common is that? “I don’t know,” Cooke answers, “I’m interested in discourse.” The irony couldn’t be darker: the very people protesting the imperialist exploitation of the “Other” endorse that Other’s repressive customs as a means of promoting their own uniquely Western agenda—subverting the heterosexual patriarchy.

The final category in the feminist taxonomy, which might be called the world-government utopian strain, is in many respects closest to classical liberal feminism. Dedicated to full female dignity and equality, it generally eschews both the biological determinism of the gender feminist and the cultural relativism of the multiculti postcolonialist. Stanford political science professor Susan Moller Okin, an influential, subtle, and intelligent spokeswoman for this approach, created a stir among feminists in 1997 when she forthrightly attacked multiculturalists for valuing “group rights for minority cultures” over the well-being of individual women. Okin admirably minced no words attacking arranged marriage, female circumcision, and polygamy, which she believed women experienced as a “barely tolerable institution.” Some women, she went so far as to declare, “might be better off if the culture into which they were born were either to become extinct . . . or preferably, to be encouraged to alter itself so as to reinforce the equality of women.”

But though Okin is less shy than other feminists about discussing the plight of women under Islamic fundamentalism, the typical U.N. utopian has her own reasons for keeping quiet as that plight fills Western headlines. For one thing, the utopian is also a bean-counting absolutist, seeking a pure, numerical equality between men and women in all departments of life. She greets Western, and particularly American, claims to have achieved freedom for women with skepticism. The motto of the 2002 International Women’s Day—“Afghanistan Is Everywhere”—was in part a reproach to the West about its superior airs. Women in Afghanistan might have to wear burqas, but don’t women in the West parade around in bikinis? “It’s equally disrespectful and abusive to have women prancing around a stage in bathing suits for cash or walking the streets shrouded in burqas in order to survive,” columnist Jill Nelson wrote on the MSNBC website about the murderously fanatical riots that attended the Miss World pageant in Nigeria.

As Nelson’s statement hints, the utopian is less interested in freeing women to make their own choices than in engineering and imposing her own elite vision of a perfect society. Indeed, she is under no illusions that, left to their own democratic devices, women would freely choose the utopia she has in mind. She would not be surprised by recent Pakistani elections, where a number of the women who won parliamentary seats were Islamist. But it doesn’t really matter what women want. The universalist has a comprehensive vision of “women’s human rights,” meaning not simply women’s civil and political rights but “economic rights” and “socioeconomic justice.” Cynical about free markets and globalization, the U.N. utopian is also unimpressed by the liberal democratic nation-state “as an emancipatory institution,” in the dismissive words of J. Ann Tickner, director for international studies at the University of Southern California. Such nation-states are “unresponsive to the needs of [their] most vulnerable members” and seeped in “nationalist ideologies” as well as in patriarchal assumptions about autonomy. In fact, like the (usually) unacknowledged socialist that she is, the U.N. utopian eagerly awaits the withering of the nation-state, a political arrangement that she sees as tied to imperialism, war, and masculinity. During war, in particular, nations “depend on ideas about masculinized dignity and feminized sacrifice to sustain the sense of autonomous nationhood,” writes Cynthia Enloe, professor of government at Clark University.

Having rejected the patriarchal liberal nation-state, with all the democratic machinery of self-government that goes along with it, the utopian concludes that there is only one way to achieve her goals: to impose them through international government. Utopian feminists fill the halls of the United Nations, where they examine everything through the lens of the “gender perspective” in study after unreadable study. (My personal favorites: “Gender Perspectives on Landmines” and “Gender Perspectives on Weapons of Mass Destruction,” whose conclusion is that landmines and WMDs are bad for women.)

The 1979 U.N. Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), perhaps the first and most important document of feminist utopianism, gives the best sense of the sweeping nature of the movement’s ambitions. CEDAW demands many measures that anyone committed to democratic liberal values would applaud, including women’s right to vote and protection against honor killings and forced marriage. Would that the document stopped there. Instead it sets out to impose a utopian order that would erase all distinctions between men and women, a kind of revolution of the sexes from above, requiring nations to “take all appropriate measures to modify the social and cultural patterns of conduct of men and women” and to eliminate “stereotyped roles” to accomplish this legislative abolition of biology. The document calls for paid maternity leave, nonsexist school curricula, and government-supported child care. The treaty’s 23-member enforcement committee hectors nations that do not adequately grasp that, as Enloe puts it, “the personal is international.” The committee has cited Belarus for celebrating Mother’s Day, China for failing to legalize prostitution, and Libya for not interpreting the Qur’an in accordance with “committee guidelines.”

Confusing “women’s participation” with self-determination, and numerical equivalence with equality, CEDAW utopians try to orchestrate their perfect society through quotas and affirmative-action plans. Their bean-counting mentality cares about whether women participate equally, without asking what it is that they are participating in or whether their participation is anything more than ceremonial. Thus at the recent Women’s Summit in Jordan, Rima Khalaf suggested that governments be required to use quotas in elections “to leapfrog women to power.” Khalaf, like so many illiberal feminist utopians, has no hesitation in forcing society to be free. As is often the case when elites decide they have discovered the route to human perfection, the utopian urge is not simply antidemocratic but verges on the totalitarian.

That this combination of sentimental victimhood, postcolonial relativism, and utopian overreaching has caused feminism to suffer so profound a loss of moral and political imagination that it cannot speak against the brutalization of Islamic women is an incalculable loss to women and to men. The great contribution of Western feminism was to expand the definition of human dignity and freedom. It insisted that all human beings were worthy of liberty. Feminists now have the opportunity to make that claim on behalf of women who in their oppression have not so much as imagined that its promise could include them, too. At its best, feminism has stood for a rich idea of personal choice in shaping a meaningful life, one that respects not only the woman who wants to crash through glass ceilings but also the one who wants to stay home with her children and bake cookies or to wear a veil and fast on Ramadan. Why shouldn’t feminists want to shout out their own profound discovery for the world to hear?

Perhaps, finally, because to do so would be to acknowledge the freedom they themselves enjoy, thanks to Western ideals and institutions. Not only would such an admission force them to give up their own simmering resentments; it would be bad for business.

The truth is that the free institutions—an independent judiciary, a free press, open elections—that protect the rights of women are the same ones that protect the rights of men. The separation of church and state that would allow women to escape the burqa would also free men from having their hands amputated for theft. The education system that would teach girls to read would also empower millions of illiterate boys. The capitalist economies that bring clean water, cheap clothes, and washing machines that change the lives of women are the same ones that lead to healthier, freer men. In other words, to address the problems of Muslim women honestly, feminists would have to recognize that free men and women need the same things—and that those are things that they themselves already have. And recognizing that would mean an end to feminism as we know it.

There are signs that, outside the academy, middlebrow literary circles, and the United Nations, feminism has indeed met its Waterloo. Most Americans seem to realize that September 11 turned self-indulgent sentimental illusions, including those about the sexes, into an unaffordable luxury. Consider, for instance, women’s attitudes toward war, a topic on which politicians have learned to take for granted a gender gap. But according to the Pew Research Center, in January 2002, 57 percent of women versus 46 percent of men cited national security as the country’s top priority. There has been a “seismic gender shift on matters of war,” according to pollster Kellyanne Conway. In 1991, 45 percent of U.S. women supported the use of ground troops in the Gulf War, a substantially smaller number than the 67 percent of men. But as of November, a CNN survey found women were more likely than men to support the use of ground troops against Iraq, 58 percent to 56 percent. The numbers for younger women were especially dramatic. Sixty-five percent of women between 18 and 49 support ground troops, as opposed to 48 percent of women 50 and over. Women are also changing their attitudes toward military spending: before September 11, only 24 percent of women supported increased funds; after the attacks, that number climbed to 47 percent. An evolutionary psychologist might speculate that, if females tend to be less aggressively territorial than males, there’s little to compare to the ferocity of the lioness when she believes her young are threatened.

Even among some who consider themselves feminists, there is some grudging recognition that Western, and specifically American, men are sometimes a force for the good. The Feminist Majority is sending around urgent messages asking for President Bush to increase American security forces in Afghanistan. The influential left-wing British columnist Polly Toynbee, who just 18 months ago coined the phrase “America the Horrible,” went to Afghanistan to figure out whether the war “was worth it.” Her answer was not what she might have expected. Though she found nine out of ten women still wearing burqas, partly out of fear of lingering fundamentalist hostility, she was convinced their lives had greatly improved. Women say they can go out alone now.

As we sink more deeply into what is likely to be a protracted struggle with radical Islam, American feminists have a moral responsibility to give up their resentments and speak up for women who actually need their support. Feminists have the moral authority to say that their call for the rights of women is a universal demand—that the rights of women are the Rights of Man.

my god this dude wrote the world’s worst thesis and sent it to the worst candidate possible (a muslim-born woman from the middle east that regularly talks about the issues feminists apparently never talk about)

[lgbtqiamuslimpedia]

A Jihad for Love (2008)

Director - Parvez Sharma

Producer - Sandi Simcha Dubowski

Cinematography - Parvez Sharma, Berke Baş,David W. Leitner

Writer - Javed Haider Zaidi

Cast - Imam Muhsin Hendricks,Arsham Parsi,Maryam,Abdellah,Mazen,Ferda,Qasim,Ahsan,Amir,Mojtaba,Kiymet,Sana,Maha,Pedram Abdi (Payam)

Languages - Arabic,Farsi,Urdu,Bengali, Hindi,English,French,German,English,Turkish,etc

Genre - •LGBTQ •Islam •Documentary

Year of Release - 21 May,2008

Box office - $105,651

Awards - •Best Documentary Award,MIX BRASIL •Best Documentary, Image+Nation Film Festival •Best Documentary,The Tri-Continental Film Festival,India • GLAAD Media Award •Teddy Award,etc

A Jihad for Love (preceded by a short film called In the Name of Allah) is an award-winning international documentary on Homosexuality & Islam.It took total six years to make this groundbreaking documentary.Parvez Sharma took the risk to film this documentary in most dangerous country (like Islamic Republic of Iran,Iraq, Saudi Arabia,Pakistan,Egypt).Homosexuality is a punishable crime in most Muslim World.

The work that Sharma started with this film has become a staple in many books on Islam and at U.S. University libraries.The website Faith in Equality put it at number 9 in a list of LGBT films about faith.IMDb rates the film at 13 on its list of 58 titles under the category of "Best documentaries on religion, spirituality & cults".The film first premiered at the TIFF in 2007, and has been screened to great acclaim at several film festivals around the world.The film went on to win 15 other international awards.

Plot

At starting it shows a glimpse of Islam across the globe.The film first featured Hendrick Muhsin, a South African,Pakistani Gay & Muslim.He is also the first Out Gay Imam of Africa.Filmmaker Parvez got into the deep of Hendicks's personal life struggles,his understanding of Islam & reconciliation of intersecting identities.

Mazen, an Egyptian effeminate muslim was arrested in 2001, in a gay nightclub named Queen Boat.He was beaten,forced to stand trial twice on "debauchery" charges & sentenced to a total of 4 years in prison, where he was raped.He eventually moved to Paris.Mazen also has left his families & friends in Egypt.

Sana is a Black Lesbian refugee, & a victim of FGM.She has a deeper understanding of Islam & told Parvez that Queerness is not against Islam.Sana didn't have any kind of sexual relation with any women.But she had intimate loving relations with women.Like others, she came to France as a refugee.Sana befriend with Maryam & Mazen.

Maryam is Moroccan-born queer womxn who lives in Paris.Her girlfriend Maha lives in Egypt.Both lovers met each other on Bint-al Nas - a meeting site for Arab LBTQ womxn.Maryam still believes that she deserves punishment for her lesbian sexual relationship.Both have survived abusive marriages and can only share their love for each other in private.Maryam & Maha go on a shared journey of search and discovery of female homosexuality.In Al-Azhar, they discover an old bookstore where they find a copy of the Fiqh al-Sunnah(The Laws of the Prophet).In the heart of an ancient mosque in the Citadel,they discover beautiful Islamic calligraphy as they declare their impossible love for each other.

Amir, an Iranian gay shia who has respect for Imam Hosseini.He sacrificed his life for Allah & reconciling his muslim faith.While in Iran, he was persecuted under the charges of illicit sexual conduct,illicit mannerism & received 100 lashes.After being brutally beaten and tortured in the police custody.The judge also threatened Amir that he should be punished by stoning.However he was sentenced to flogging.He told Sharma that Allah helped him to escape this traumatic situation.He fled to Turkey as soon as well.There he met 3 gay refugees - Arsham,Payam,Mojtaba.Mojtaba, another (Persian) gay muslim who ran away from Iran,due to his same sex marriage ceremony in 2005.

Ferda & Kiymet are a happy couple in Turkiye.Kiymet belongs from a conservative family.In her early Kiymet's marriage was fixed with a man.Kiymet's marriage ended up at divorce.Then she found Ferda, her soulmate.Ferda's mom is very supportive & tolerant of sexuality.Ferda is a devout sufi queer muslim, who honors Rumi - a prominent sufi icon for both LGBTQ+ & Straight Muslims.

Ahsan & Qasim are queer platonic friends.Ahsan is a Sunni Muslim & Qasim is a Shia Muslim.Both men, belongs from poor backgrounds do not adopt the western peronae of ‘gay’ and instead rely on vernacular terms.Ahsan & Qasim are part of transvestite,transgender community called Zenana,Kothi in Northern India.Most of these community hide themselves from public.Ahsan,Qasim find a safe space in his community.While Qasim is struggling with his sexuality in heteronormative society.

The filmmaker also documented the diverse tolerance of sexuality in sufi traditions (Pakistan,India & Turkey).

Is it the first film on Islam & Homosexuality?

''A Jihad for Love'' is called world's 1st film on Islam & Homosexuality.A Jihad for Love would be an international feature documentary film rather than world's first film on LGBT muslims.However there are several films that focused on LGBTQ muslim or Queerness in Islam.For Example:

Road to Love (2001)

Act of Faith (2002)

Haremde dört kadin (1965)

Hammam al-Malatily (1973)

Köçek (1975)

Ihtiras Firtinasi (1984)

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985)

Marcides (1993)

Istanbul Beneath My Wings (1996)

Hamam (1997)

Lola & Billy the Kid (1999)

Production

Bismillah (In the name of Allah) was considered as an early working title for this documentary.Among muslims,the word Bismillah is very auspicious & used before beginning actions,speech,writing.But the tittle was not considered as the final title of this film due to controversy.

A Jihad for Love is produced by Halal Films, in association with the Sundance Documentary Film Fund,Channel 4 (UK),ZDF (Germany),Arte (France-Germany),Logo (US) & SBS Australia.The director & producer Parvez Sharma & co-producer Sandi Dubowski raised more than a million dollars over a 6 years period to make the film.

In an interview with The NY Times,Parvez Sharma said that he "would shoot touristy footage on the first 15 minutes & the last 15 minutes of a tape", with interviews for documentary in between, to avoid having his footage seized at customs.He compiled 400 hours of footage from a dozen countries ranging from Iraq to Pakistan to the UK.The nature of the work placed him at considerable personal risk.He adopted hardcore guerrilla film-making tactics,pretending to be a tourist in one country,a worker for an AIDS charity in another country.Wherever he went,he asked his queer friends to keep copies of footage and destroy the tapes once he had successfully smuggled the masters out of the country.

During his filmmaking Parvez traveled several countries including Pakistan, Iraq, India, Bangladesh, Egypt, USA, UK, Turkey, France, Saudi Arabia, South Africa,[...].

Interviews

In an interview with NY Times magazine,Parvez Sharma said,"Being gay and Muslim myself,I knew that this film had to be about us all coming out— as Muslims. It's about claiming the Islam that has been denied to us." With a target audience of "faithful Muslims," he undertook a variety of outreach tactics, including leafleting mosques,blanketing MySpace,screening in Astoria for 15 key progressive Muslim leaders.In an interview to Der Spiegel, Sharma explained the significance of the title: "I'm not looking at jihad as battle.I'm looking at the greater jihad in Islam, which is the jihad as the struggle with the self.I also thought it was really compelling to take a word that only has one connotation for most -- to take that, reclaim it and put it in the same phrase as love,which is universal.I really think it explains it very well.

Film Screening

A Jihad for Love first premiered in Toronto International Film Festival(TIFF) in September 2007.At its premier,the director was given a security guard for safety reasons.After this film festival A Jihad for Love got huge applaud internationally.A Jihad for Love film premiered as the opening film of Panorama Documente of the Berlin Film Festival in February 2008.

The film was screened in The Rio Film Festival,Brazil on September 2007,Morelia Film Festival,Mexico, on October 2007,The Sheffield DocFest on November 2007,London Gay & Lesbian Film Festival on March 2008,Melbourne International Film Festival on July 2008,Thessaloniki Documentary Film Festival on March 2008,etc.A Jihad for Love's first premier in African continent was The Out in Africa Film Festival in Johannesburg and Cape Town,November 2007. On April,2008 A Jihad for Love film was successfully screened at Istanbul International Film Festival.It was the first time that the film allowed to screen in a muslim-majority country.Film also screened in Q! Film Festival of Indonesia.Although singapore banned the film from festival in 2008 due to its sensitive subject.

Popularity

A Jihad for Love film's sale and broadcast on NDTV, South Asia's largest network in 2008 would have a "remarkable" impact on this LGBTQ cause. "NDTV's broadcast has in effect made the film available to over one billion viewers in India,Bangladesh,Pakistan, & large portions of the Middle East and Africa.The various distributors and their Total Rating Points in European television, the Indian/South-Asian sale with its claimed footprint of 15 billion viewers, the theatrical release & the purportedly large numbers of Netflix viewers made the filmmakers and the TRP experts arrive at a number of 8 million total viewers calculated over a period of four years for this documentary.

International Muslim Dialogue Project

Immediately after the film's theatrical launch around the USA,Parvez & Sandi launched the International Muslim Dialogue Project on 2008.The aim of the project was to organize screenings of the film in Muslim Capitals.Sharma called it the "Underground Network Model" of film distribution.He invented this model sending unmarked DVD's of the film with friends & colleagues to Muslim capitals across the world with full permission to sell pirated copies.Some of the boldest were Beirut,Cairo,Karachi,eight cities in Indonesia & Kuala Lumpur

The film was screened privately screened in Iran,Palestine,Bangladesh and Somalia.

[geyikligece]

thanks for answering my question! i genuinely don't think something can be a sin without it being clearly stated as a sin, so all the so called analogies between "homosexuality" and "zina" doesn't exist in the Quran, therefore invalid. i struggle to understand why would God condemn love? why would it only be okay for heterosexual to be in a relationship and have sex, but not homosexuals? are we less than them? but he created us this way. so "just don't act upon it" is illogical to me. we would surely know if the Prophet punished anyone as well, since the homophobes would surely not miss that!! 😊 love is the most beautiful thing and it is given to us by Allah, so it cannot be a sin. i also don't really see the connection between zina and homosexuality. sex before marriage is haram so that lineages don't mix and people have a clear relationship between each other. with that being said, this could mean homosexuals do not need to get married, and they can have sex with content. or if their country legalized same sex marriage they would first get married. i have also read about how there were cases that allowed same sex intercourses within the islamic law in the past. since Quran talks about heterosexual relationships because they are the majority, we cannot really know what to do. but all we know that something cannot be a sin without being mentioned as a sin and that we are not condemned, despite what people think. honestly i am so tired :( i spend my entire time trying to justify my existence to other people and to myself, it is mentally exhausting and leading me to stray away from religion. i have even accepted that even if it is a sin, i would do more good deeds to be forgiven but i cannot be deprived from the comfort of love. i would love to hear if you have any advice for me. i don't mean to randomly vent but i genuinely cannot take it anymore and i don't have anyone around me to talk to. i just want to feel validated to be in a relationship, get married later and have sex :( once again, thank you and i'm sending my love! so hard to even simply exist in this toxic environment.

as a person who understands, and as a psychologist too, i must say, your feelings are valid, your struggles are valid, your questions are also valid. and you're not alone. it's just that as queer muslims we always face ostracization and criticism, so as you said even simpy existing is really difficult. both in muslim contexts and in queer contexts, we cannot find a proper place, both groups do not accept us wholeheartedly. the thing that helps me the most is to have queer muslim people around me. just like my best friend @aheartandashirt ♡ because queer people do not understand my religious identity. and muslim people do not accept my queer identity. but queer muslim people will understand the most. having that safe space is truly healing.

why i'm studying this subject academically is also because of that. i'm interviewing with turkish queer muslim women and i'm seeing that we are not alone. hopefully this study can be something empowering that helps individuals like us to feel less lonely and more resilient. if you wanna talk, i'm always here. my message box is always open. i'm sending lots of love and virtual hugs 🫂 take care ♡

[magnoliamyrrh]

the thing is to be very clear too i don't mean this in any sort of "islam is the only religion or culture or etc which has some sort of particular issue with this" way. at all

the very very very old ancestors of my people came to the balkans from most likely central asia and mixed with the indigenous population. they were patriatchal, and practiced polygamy, and the idea was that powerful men needed like at least ten wives to be satisfied. this is as far back as my peoples history can be traced, and women were still treated like property of men and sex-things. and after that? well, centuries on end of women and girls being seen as property to be traded and sold, sex slaves, bridal kidnapping, child marriages, domestic abuse and rape being common, etc. christianity brought its own flavour. islam broutht its own flavour. but. like. there are parts of the world which can, because they werent patriarchies. but i really can't blame either christianity or islam for the patriarchal system my people have held and the endless crap endured

like. its often painted as this so thats why im saying it. islam isnt some sort of unique thing in its history twoards these sort of things. men taking girls as child brides and sex slaves and everything else that surrounds this, is very much a cross-cultural, historical, very widespread issue among humans