'Speed-dating' with a twist: got questions for Muslim women? Here's where to go
Melissa Davey
The Guardian
Hana Assafiri knows how to harness the power of women. When she opened the now renowned Moroccan Soup Bar in Melbourne’s North Fitzroy more than 15 years ago, she employed impoverished women struggling to break free from a cycle of poverty and domestic violence, teaching them the skills to provide affordable and nourishing food to their communities.
Having recently opened an off-shoot of the vegetarian restaurant in Brunswick East, called Moroccan Deli-Cacy, Assafiri has once again surrounded herself with women, this time in a bid to dispel myths around Muslims and to create a more cohesive society, one conversation at a time.
Every fortnight at 3pm on a Sunday, Muslim women gather at the restaurant while Assafiri brings out plates of her famous Arabic pastries and cups of tea. But the people arriving are not just here to eat. They’re about to embark on a round of “Muslim speed-dating”, an event dreamed up by Assafiri to provide members of the community an opportunity to “ask a Muslim anything”.
Assafiri addresses the group of about 30 men and women who are gathered around the tables and perched on stools, with Muslim women dotted between them.
“Nothing is off the table, and your questions can absolutely be frank and candid,” Assafiri says.
“The only requirement is that we are all respectful. Respectfully, we can ask why people wear the hijab, do they sleep in it, do they shower in it. The point of this exercise is to break down the divisions that exist in this simplistic environment that only seeks to demonise and further marginalise Muslim women.”
She makes it clear that each woman is offering her own point of view only, and is not speaking for Islam or Muslim people as a whole. Finally, Assafiri says: “There is nothing sacred about the abuse of women within Islam.
“If anybody puts forward a view that accepts the oppression, violation or subjugation of women, then that needs to be interrogated and rejected.”
The conversations start at Muslim speed-dating in Moroccan Deli-cacy, in Brunswick East. Photograph: Melissa Davey for the Guardian
Here in Brunswick East, she says, is a chance to “set the agenda for the rest of the country on how to create a cohesive community and have respectful conversations”.
There is applause, and the restaurant quickly fills with conversation and laughter. Unlike conventional speed-dating, where men rotate around the room and approach a different woman every few minutes when a timer goes off, Assafiri’s Muslim speed dating is a more informal affair.
Over the course of an hour, men and women drift between tables and in and out of conversations with the Muslim women. At one table, people are contemplating whether an atrocity like the Cronulla riots could ever happen in Melbourne. No one really has an answer, but seem to agree that tensions today are different, involving an added layer of religious intolerance on top of racial tensions.
I wondered whether Muslim women wearing a hijab … compromised feminism. And what I’ve learned is of course it doesn’t
Maria Dimopoulos
At another table, a Muslim woman, Toltu Tufa, is being asked her thoughts on WikiLeaks and Julian Assange.
But the conversations are also intensely personal. Husna Pasha, an Indian Australian and Muslim, holds a table rapt by her story of arranging her own marriage to a devout and conservative Indian Muslim man at the age of 20. She thought by marrying her parents’ version of the ideal man, they would be proud of her.
Pasha said her “bright, bubbly, personality” was swallowed by the devout world she had entered, and which didn’t fit with her much more open view of being a Muslim.
About two years into her marriage, she broke down in front of her dad, and confessed that she wasn’t happy.
“Dad said to me, ‘Did you think this is what we wanted for you? What would have made me proud is for you to be happy. We’ve made a really big mistake here. We’ve done the wrong thing by you. You may become the first divorcee in our family, but you need to get the hell out.’
“When he said that, it was like being reborn.”
The experience led her to create The Talk Show Series, a collection of seminars and videos to teach women confidence and self-esteem.
Maria Dimopoulos, a diversity and gender equality consultant, is attending Muslim speed-dating for the second time. After her first time, she recalls a man saying to her as he was leaving, “I will never look at Muslim women in the same way again.”
“He had thought they couldn’t think for themselves and all just obeyed their husbands. He was proven so wrong.”
Dimopoulos says she had her own questions for the women.
“I had wondered whether Muslim women wearing a hijab in some way compromised feminism,” she says. “And what I’ve learned is, of course it doesn’t. It adds another dimension to feminism, it can be empowering.”
Dimopoulos is at a table speaking with Hanifa Deen, a Muslim, author and editor of Sultana’s Dream, an online magazine written and produced by Muslim women.
Deen doesn’t wear a burqa, the one-piece veil that covers the face and body, or a hijab, the scarf that covers only the hair and neck.
“But if women want to wear it, that’s their choice,” she says.
“There’s nothing I understand in the Qur’an that calls for a hijab, it only calls for modest dressing. People might quote Hadiths [a collection of traditions containing sayings of the prophet Muhammad] and say the Hadiths call for it. But Hadiths were written only by men. I do not agree with the Hadiths either.”
Deen says one of the most frustrating aspects of the way issues relating to Islam play out in the media is that men are primarily quoted as though they speak for all Muslims.
“The media automatically goes to the men for comment, they ask the imams to talk about Muslim issues,” she says.
“People don’t ask women. We need to bring out the Muslim women.”
Assafiri agrees. It’s partly the reason she has so far only invited Muslim women to be asked questions by diners. She is aware that a minority of people interpret Islamic law in a way that discriminates against women and regards them as subordinate. She told the diners earlier in the night such views should always be challenged and were not welcome in her restaurant.
“People say; ‘Why not men?’” she says.
“For me, I work well with women, because I don’t have to start from the position of challenging male ideology and conceptions of Islam. We start from a different premise.
Founder of Muslim speed dating, Hana Assafiri (left) with Toltu Tufa. Photograph: Melissa Davey for the Guardian
“A lot of the Muslim women here I’ve known for years and years and they are generous and brilliant, and sadly they haven’t been in the limelight. I want to give these women in our communities a platform.”
Still, she knows that she might struggle to change the hearts and minds of fringe groups who protest against the building of mosques, or of people who abuse and assault Muslim people in the streets. Those who attend Muslim speed-dating are largely those who already have open minds. They come because they want to celebrate multiculturalism and learn more about the diversity in their neighbourhood.
Nearly every Muslim woman here has a story of being verbally or physically abused on the street. One, Sareh Salarzadeh, a school principal, says she had a beer can thrown at her car window while driving. Another time, a motorist tried to ram her off the road. Compared to experiences like those, facing questions from genuinely curious and receptive diners is easy.
“We can’t wait for a Martin Luther King or a Gandhi to address the divisions in our society,” Assafiri says.
“We must address it at the micro-level and take personal responsibility. Maybe we’re not reaching the anti-Bendigo mosque types, but we’re creating a model of starting genuine conversations that can be taken around Australia. We’re creative and we’re brave and we’re trying.
“And people can always learn more, can always be more sincere and more authentic.”
Source: www.theguardian.com