Ashara Mubaraka 1442 Reflections: on Rida
By: Umme Salama
Since my early teenage years as a tinkering ‘feminist’, I’ve always struggled with the act of covering in the Western world.
I spent most of my high school and early college in constant worry and self-doubt about what others would think of me. Would they think I’m oppressed? Would they wonder if I knew how to speak English properly? Or would they not consider me on par intellectually because I dressed conservatively?
To fight these obscure and made-up narratives about myself in my head, I fret and cried over how others seemingly treated me while the only person treating me as such was myself.
Tugging and tossing, I made it through high school and college, but the wavering intentions and doubts surrounding Rida easily crept up to me every so often, pushing me off track. I felt stuck in the constant cycle of guilt and shame around Ashara; made up for by renewed commitments and bold promises that only seemed to wither away soon after the 10th day of Muharram each year.
I became accustomed to these patterns very well and so did my family and friends, who knew the heightened sense of reflections, insights, and proposed changes in lifestyle were only to remain temporary. Although stories of the mistreatment of the Ahle Bait in Karbala during Ashara would fuel a burning sensation and hatred upon those who ensued it, I could barely seem to remember the essence of their hardships later on.
Every Ashara, I was not naive to the cycles of lost momentum, despite several of the same spiritual highs after the first 10 days of Muharram.
However, this year was different. This year IS different.
Anticipating the arrival of Ashara was unlike anything we’ve experienced in the past, as there were feelings of worry and uncertainty around how it would play out. But Alhumdullilah, as per the Raza and Dua Mubarak of Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin (TUS), Ashara this year filled mine (and others) hearts to the brim. Seeing the noorani faces of three Du’at Al Mutlaqeen and the seamless interconnectedness in their unified message truly struck a chord in me.
Whilst listening to the horrors of Karbala from all three Du’at, I was reminded again of the incredible persistence, strength, and bravery of Husain AS and his Ahle Bait.
The early women of Islam, Moulatena Khadija AS, Moulatena Fatima AS, and Moulatena Zainab AS all taught me what it means to be a woman of faith. They taught me what I now know to be the true meaning of pardah.
Moulatena Khadija AS was a powerful, well-educated, and successful merchant in Makkah/Syria who employed Rasullulah upon repeatedly hearing of his good conduct. Her trustworthy men spoke highly of him and his excellent and honest handling of trade, to which she later asked for his hand in marriage. During their time together, she acted as a constant beacon of strength and support for him, especially during his early prophetic revelations where he would faint at times, or retreat to the cave for days. She became the first women to enter Islam, and through him, Rasullulah SAW gained one of his most prized treasures, Fatima AS, the mother of the Ima’mein.
Moulatena Fatima AS taught me how to be a better Mumina, as she is the perfect embodiment of the multiple roles she played as a woman of Faith under the guidelines of Islam. Adorning the pardah with utmost grace and humility, Fatema fiercely cared for and protected her family while also looking after the needs of the people and women in her community.
The riwayats reveal that when Ali used to come home after a day’s work, Fatima would warmly welcome him home, take his shoes off, wash his hands, and offer him food while she sat with him as he consumed his meal. She did not instantly burden him with the worries of the day, but rather let him enjoy his meal and waited till he finished his food to voice any concerns.
And in times of utmost adversity, like when Awwal came to their house to take Ameerul Mumineen away, Fatima asked for his Raza, and opened the door, fearing he would burn the house down if she did not do so. Even after enduring zulm herself, she still rushed out to see where they had taken her qiblah-ga, Imam Ali AS. Soon after, in efforts to remind people of her father’s word, she performed khutbas, and it is said that when she walked, it was as if it were Rasullulah walking. She spoke with such grit and firmness that people could listen to her for hours on end.
And Zainab, the granddaughter and daughter of two incredible women, protected and stood by the family and went to Karbala with Husain AS arming him with the strength to keep going, while also taking care of his legacy, and progeny. Moulatena Zainab AS is said to be so brave, that when the dushmano threatened to kill Imam Ali ZaenulAbideen, the next Imam, Zainab AS confronted them whilst standing in front of Imam Ali AS with such courage that led them to back off. She did not hesitate to put her own life in danger as she continued to do khidmat of Husain’s child and rightful successor. This is what makes Moulatena Zainab AS such a revered personality in History, kya bataye ke zainab ki kya shaan hei…
All three of these women withstood the injustices against them with nobility, and patience, but also fiercely comforted and protected their husbands, families, and kinship. When sought with extreme adversities and trials, they held their family unit together, and only turned to Allah for yaari and tau’feeq (assistance and enlightenment).
Thus, Islam has granted women a higher status than what was once allotted in pre-Islamic Arabia. Islam does not oppress women, but it is a society that portrays them as weak and sets barriers for them. In Islam, men have not ascribed dominance over women, but both their distinct roles and nature are designed in such a way that compliments their partnership, household duties, and parenthood. Islam follows closely to the natural, biological, spiritual, and psychological workings of the world which make the union of a man and woman a union of shared responsibilities.
However, when I hear the tales of how the dushmano circled the Sedaniyon around the bazaars of Shaam without pardah, sadness engulfs me. But what breaks my heart is when I see my Moula weep uncontrollably on this fact as he tries to paint a vivid picture of that scene in our minds. There is always a boundless uproar of noha and aweel in the masjid where Moula is present during this moment, and this year, the feelings were no different but rather presented themself in a new light.
When I hear the noha…
“…Ek chaadar ke mohtaj ham they…Karbala aa ke boli ye Zainab…”
It fills me with huzn and buka.
When I hear my Moula speak…
… of the Sedaniyon’s khula matha (barren heads) as they are forced to sit on camels as the qafila moves forward, his tears flow uncontainably. There are not enough words to fully describe the horrors inflicted upon them, but our Moula tries to make us feel a glimpse of the pain he is feeling and commands us to weep at the atrocities they faced after Imam Hussain AS’s death.
This makes me really think…
How can I cry when I too, choose to knowingly perpetuate the same zulms of bepardigi upon myself as a Mumina. What does it mean then, when I weep on their torture and hardships, but swiftly fail to realize the same realities in my world once the majalis are over?
Why did they go through so much torture for us?
From what I understand, it is for the cleansing and repentance of our sins of bepardigi till the day of judgement, so that we, the lucky ones, can go to heaven.
I am then reminded of the person my Moula wants to be. I realize I can no longer selectively hear what I want to hear about female empowerment and miss the picture on pardah. I can no longer reject what is blatantly made so clear in multiple waazes, riwayats, and nohas. I cannot sway from the truth.
But lucky for me, the women of Islam remind me time and time again through their lived examples of how I get to live my life according to Islam. I now see the pardah as a sign of nobility, respect, protection, and comfort. I no longer see it as a means of obstruction, but rather my Rida allows me to live in a modest fashion where I can focus on things that reach beyond physical appearances.
Also, my Moula has taught me the true meaning of “hijab”; one that is not just limited to covering the body but is a realization of my identity as a Mumina. Adorning the hijaab does not equate to silence or complacency in hard times, but is a reminder to always take a stand for the truth (haqq), as depicted by the women of Islam. Wearing the Rida does not only make me feel armoured but rather it serves its higher purpose modelling itself as an ideology and way of life. One, that when accepted wholeheartedly, has the potential to gradually transform and purify the mind, heart, and tongue. Of course, this only means something when it is done within the Raza and Khushi of Dai al-Asr.
So yes, Ashara this year was different, and as for keeping promises, my Moula Imam Husain AS has taught me the importance of keeping and fulfilling a promise, however big or small. There is no denying the spears thrown at us from this world, but by remaining steadfast on my faith and staying committed to this journey — I do niyyat of wearing Rida. And I pray that Khuda TA gives me the yaari to do so, and I long to always remain under the sa’yah of my Moula.
