Muslim Lifestyle

Just a Few Minor Conversions

Issue 5 May / Jun 2004

First featured in issue 5 - May/June 2004

Click here to go to the Issue 5 archives 

Words Isla Rosser-Owen

Photographs Claire Waffel 

I think as Western Muslims, we all take a little from many cultures. I believe and hope that a British Islam will eventually evolve, but the responsibility of bringing two cultures is huge, and a difficult one?

Although this is, to our knowledge, it is an untold story, it is by no means a new one. As Isla Rosser-Owen has been finding out, Britons have been converting to Islam since time immemorial.

While to a large degree that meant being subsumed into the Ottoman janissaries, or the Moroccan fleet, there is evidence that many Muslims settled in Britain very early on, and that they married and started families. And inevitably there have been similar conversion phenomena elsewhere. More recently, we have been able to put faces to these families. Photographs from the Islamic Review, published in Woking in the early Twentieth Century, show probably scores of children playing at the feet of their converted parents.

Today, we have the offspring of a new breed of converts to Islam entering British society and the size of the British Muslim community, now on the cusp of two million, means that isolation or a lack of confidence ought to be less of a problem. Moreover, with the cosmopolitan world that much of contemporary Britain has become, more and more are asserting themselves as committed Muslims, whether it be in their jobs, or among friends. A shift in emphasis has definitely taken place. However, does it necessarily hold that this new breed of second-generation Muslims will not still face problems of identity, and is this modern ‘tolerance’ of multiculturalism necessarily something that they can even be a part of? Do they still feel somewhat removed, a world apart?

Now that British Muslims, and specifically British Muslim youth, are hitting the headlines with issues of marginalisation, angst and, if the papers are to be believed, an irrational hatred of the West, I found myself travelling to meet a selection of some very fascinating people. Talking with Adam, Daoud, Hajar, Hanna, and Luqman about their childhoods, their aspirations, and their outlooks on life proved to be an enriching experience.

Do we define our Islam by our Britishness or our Britishness by our Islam? My five interviewees, despite varying levels of patriotism, are committed to developing Islam in Britain, and to developing a ‘British Islam’. Their joint vision of this British Islam is not just about halal roast beef and Yorkshire pud, or twin-set and pearls with a Liberty headscarf, but it is fundamentally focused on cross-cultural and cross-community interaction, education and specifically the acquisition of knowledge about Islam. It is not particularly radical or extreme, but nor is it apologetic. It recognises multiplicity, but also synthesis.

What has also emerged is the shifting in and out of different cultures that perhaps typifies the convert’s path. While this may illustrate a search for identity and belonging, it would be interesting to see if this also catches on as a general trend for all British Muslims, perhaps being one of the only truly multicultural communities in the UK, in the truest sense of the word.

Ultimately, what impact does the search for identity have on our lives? For some, it is not important, yet others spend a good deal of their lives on the quest. It is this search that has left some of the children of converts not wanting to have anything to do with Islam, much less Muslims; whereas others are struggling to find an expression of Islam that they are content with. Interestingly, very few have become in any way extreme or radicalised in their Islam.

How we define identity is perhaps also part of the problem. If people define themselves by the extent to which they ‘fit in’ with any given group then they are setting themselves up for one disappointment after another. On the other hand, a few trials and errors down the line, many people simply stop worrying about ‘belonging’. And, if what the government tells us is to be believed, we are living in an increasingly multicultural society, and so how one ‘belongs’ is increasingly difficult to identify.

While Islam would encourage integration, though not assimilation, we do have to wonder whether in the current political climate  Muslims aren’t increasingly being boxed into acorner where they are forced to choose between being Muslim and being British. Back to the ‘us’ and ‘them’ our forbears were probably exposed to at the turn of the Twentieth Century. The worrying side-effect of the government and media hype creating such an air of alienation from the rest of British society is that we may see individual groups retreating back into themselves, where previously they had begun to open up. “Psychological ghettoisation”, as my mother would call it. It is easier for those who aren’t visibly ‘foreign’ to be anonymous and on occasion the temptation may get the better of us.

It must be said that all of these issues and comments are by no means exclusive to this group of second-generation Muslims, I have heard them all many times before whether from someone of Nigerian, Punjabi or Arab origin. What does give us hope in this climate is the cross-cultural mixing and experimentation that many converts and their children involve themselves with. If this phenomenon that has been shared by all of our interviewees, becomes more common across the board, then I think we may well find that everyone, both Muslim and British society alike, will be pleasantly surprised by this ‘British Islam’. What I am confident about, however, is that although there have been one too many that have got away, the children of this generation of converts will maintain their Islamic identity as it has finally found a meaningful and realisable place in British society. Given the breathing space to develop – if that is not too much to wish for these days – it will continue to do so on many levels.

What has, fundamentally, emerged from my conversations with Adam, Daoud, Hajar, Hanna and Luqman, is the importance of community in the evolution of who we will become as individuals, and what roles we will play. What they have also convinced me of is that the most important thing is the extent of our involvement with each other, and, even after a few knock-backs, our willingness to keep going and to remain involved. That way, we can all go a great deal further.

At VITA you have training in all these different skills, and we study the philosophy behind the disciplines too. I’ve been influenced by a range of people, from Plato to Rumi to William Blake. My work is just an amalgamation of experiences and influences.

I seem to have plenty of commissions now and so I’ll probably set up a studio. I do quite a bit of teaching of crafts already, which I like to teach with an Islamic ethos. I have also designed a number of book covers, including some for the Islamic Texts Society. A lot of my commissions have come through architecture, making logos, signs, sculptures and plaques, including work for the Prince of Wales. I’ve just made a plaque that is now in the foyer of the Prince’s Foundation building. My father is a carpenter. He was living in Berkeley, south of San Francisco, when he converted to Islam. My mother is from Ireland, and converted when she was living with a community in Turkey. I didn’t have much of a connection with the extended family, especially on my mother’s side.

As we were growing up, we learnt certain fundamentals, but we weren’t forced to do anything. It was always all our own choice and slowly as I got older I started drifting away from it, naturally; but I think if my father had pressed me then I’d have never come back. I think it was a wise decision on his part.

Then a close friend of mine died and I started searching and studying all kinds of religions and that’s when I turned to Islam. There were certain things that I grew up with, but it could have just been mumbo-jumbo. The feeling was there, but I had to discover it for myself. This began through reading people like Attar, Rumi, and Hafez and I found something I felt completely in agreement with.

I had gone to a normal state school in Eastbourne. It was so easy to be a freak when you were at school, even if you wore the wrong tie! I kept Islam to myself, and I’ve always done that really because as soon as you put yourself under a certain umbrella, people feel they can type-cast you and point out your mistakes.

I don’t really feel part of the wider Muslim community, more a world community. I have certain friends that are Muslims, but as far as the Muslim world is concerned, you get a mixed bag of reactions. You can either be really accepted, or rejected. I found that quite hard because I’ve always believed Islam is for everyone, but some people believe it’s just a cultural right that we don’t have. The friends I’m mixing with now are not all necessarily Muslims and the non-Muslims are just as open to Islamic views. I do feel like an alien, but I don’t feel I’ve been in any way excluded from anything. Britain’s quite neutral really. It’s trying to understand Islam, but at the same time you can’t get away from the fact that you’re sometimes associated with the act of self-flagellation, or with a Malaysian terrorist, and so on. If Muslims are getting more integrated into British society, I guess that’s not a bad thing. It spreads the understanding. Islam can’t be watered down because the message is so true.

Hanna Sayyida Whiteman

I’m studying Arabic and Islamic Studies out in the Andalusian mountains, after completing my art foundation course at Norwich School of Art. I make jewellery, and am teaching myself silversmithing in my attic studio. I am going on to Cordoba and Barcelona to further my studies in this field before returning to the UK for an MA at VITA (the Prince of Wales’s institute for the study of Visual and Islamic Traditional Arts). I was brought up around art and music and have subsequently chosen art and design as a path of studies. I've found Islam to be a wonderful source of inspiration.

My parents both found Islam through the typical 70s 'search for something', my mother through Pir Vilayet Khan, and my father through a rock band, oddly enough. Some members of the band visited Morocco and, through the musical traditions there and the people that they met, became interested in Islam. He took it on himself after strange occurrences such as two volumes of the Qur'an falling on his head! My parents' families found their conversion difficult to accept at first, thinking it was just a strange 'phase'. Once they realised that the new life they were living was beneficial, they became more accepting. There were things like children's names and Christmas presents that were awkward, but a middle way was always found.

I went to a typical English, Middle-Class, white, state school. My sister and I were the only Muslims in the school, apart from a couple of Pakistani girls who weren't entirely convinced that we could be Muslims. One day a lady approached my mother in my school play- ground and said that if we didn't speak Urdu we couldn't possibly be Muslims! These things are funny of course, but really it just promotes a feeling of not belonging.

School certainly encouraged the feeling of a 'double life'. This dual life syndrome is common, and I suppose the intention is to eventually integrate the two lives so many of us lead.

We convert families really tend to stick together as we have similar experiences, or came to Islam together, and so therefore feel a close bond. I don't think this is a bad thing, if we sometimes feel like outsiders elsewhere. As a Muslim woman growing up in a Western society, I felt, and still feel, a pressure to fit in, especially aesthetically… the expected role as a ‘sex object’ makes it increasingly difficult to dress modestly, and be attractive.

Culturally, I am definitely a mix. I dress in a Western style, with scarves ranging from Malaysia, Zanzibar, and Tie Rack. I sometimes wear jelabas or saris when appropriate, but feel rather foolish. The only country I can really relate to is Britain, but I don’t have an overwhelming feeling of patriotism. I think as Western Muslims, we all take a little from many cultures. I believe and hope that a ‘British Islam’ will eventually evolve, but the responsibility of bridging two cultures is huge, and a difficult one.

Some people get obsessed with the idea of identity and Islam, but Islam grants us the unique possibility to be individual and yet participate in a much wider arena. It's tough to be such a bizarre mix but also such a special opportunity. We have a foot in two very important doors, and it's up to us to try and link the two worlds together and show how possible it is for them to coexist. Our responsibility is to make a firm and comfortable foundation of Islam in the West for many generations to come.

The first time I really felt part of a Muslim community was at my first university. There was a really strong sense of brotherhood there and I made some really good friends. I do truly believe that amongst real Muslims, race isn’t an issue and I feel that much more strongly at university than anywhere else, as the community is so diverse. It was in my first year that I really discovered Islam for myself. It was like a realisation that just because my parents chose it, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong! And it took me a long time to realise that.

I don’t have many non-Muslim friends now, and I find it quite an effort to be around them. I do try and make that effort though, as I believe I have a special chance to explain to them about Islam. I definitely feel a responsibility to express this beautiful religion to non-Muslims, as culturally I am from them.

Islam and the West are highly compatible. I don’t think you would have so many people converting to Islam otherwise. I think Islam appeals to the common sense of the English people, and its foundation on knowledge, logic and a scientific approach to religion would make it particularly appealing.

I definitely feel British in terms of food, dress, and so on, but still there are certain things such as the pub culture that are considered ‘British’ that I definitely don’t associate myself with. On the other hand, there are many things in British culture, such as politeness, hospitality, and a sense of equality and justice that are engrained, and that are very compatible with Islam. It is these things that we need to bring out and emphasise in our dealings with non-Muslims, in order to show how ‘British’ Islam can be! I don’t think I have a confused identity. I want to be part of forming a British Muslim identity, and I think this is an exciting time for British Muslims.

I think things are definitely improving for the Muslim community in Britain. Most of my friends are from the second generation of Muslims from other countries. I guess there are some fundamental differences in expectations and things, but in terms of how we’ll raise our children I don’t think there’ll be very much difference. The next generation that is educated, and has rediscovered Islam, has a real  chance to change things for the better for all the communities.

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Luqman Ali, 34, Director of Khayaal Theatre

Company, Luton

The idea of producing plays inspired by Islamic texts initially came to me while working with Muslim youth in the UK during the late 80s. It then really germinated in a material sense whilst I was studying Farsi in Iran shortly thereafter. When later I married an actress, who had friends who acted and directed, a team coalesced and we co-founded Khayaal.

We basically take the material from classical sources and adapt it for the stage. We staged as our debut a large-scale epic adaptation of “Conference of the Birds”, and since then many showcases consisting of collections of short plays. We’ll be performing “Tales from the Muslim World” at the Globe as part of a yearlong Shakespeare and Islam Season during Islam Awareness Week in November. We’re constantly involved in education and advocacy as a means of generating an appreciation of the potential of the Arts as a medium of intercultural dialogue and as a way of developing a British Muslim culture.

My father became Muslim in his late teens through the Nation of Islam. He left around the time of Malcolm X’s return from Hajj, when he  realised that Islam was much more broad andinclusive than he had been led to believe. He then joined the Darul Islam Movement, and then became a founding member of the Islamic Party. My mother was studying at Howard University, and he managed to distract her from her education and introduce her to Islam. Both my parents are African-American, although my mother’s side has a lot of Native American blood. The conversion of African- Americans to Islam is the result of many factors, principle amongst which is the search for identity and dignity, along with a need for spiritual nourishment that does not require obeisance to ‘superior men’. Many who have explored their roots have discovered the likelihood that their ancestors were Muslims.

My mother’s family was not antagonistic. Now they are very happy that she made that choice because they’ve seen the children of our extended family and what happened to them, and they see that we have become normal human beings and have not been completely consumed by inner city ghettoes. My grandmother really is a Muslim; Islam is where her loyalties lie. I also have a cousin who is Muslim. So, generally, their reaction to Islam has been nothing but positive and enriching.

The most I can remember from my childhood,

from those early years, is a really high enthusiasm for embracing this new way of life, to the extent that it was all-consuming. My father would travel a lot to other communities to learn what other Muslims were doing, and many times he’d take me with him. I spent a lot of time on the highways of the Eastern Seaboard! I was not conventionally educated. I was largely educated at home, and when I was about 10 I went to Pakistan and lived there for a year, primarily memorising the Qur’an. I learnt to speak Urdu and I studied Arabic. I was also working for a charity and had to live at a very subsistence level of life. I spent a lot of time travelling on my own. I think all of those things were quite formative for me.

I wouldn’t say that the issue of identity is completely absent from my life. You still have this problem of are you “Eastern” or are you “Western”, but if anything I have chosen to make it an advantage. Having learned a language like Urdu, if I went to a Pakistani, Indian, or even Bangladeshi community, I could feel at home, and in most cases I don’t feel alienated if I go to the mosque.

I think for second-generation Muslims like myself, one of the greatest advantages is having minimal cultural or national baggage. I think it is in the West that we have the opportunities to realise living Islam for so many reasons, and so I think the responsibility is greater on us. We’re living in a time at the moment for Muslims in the West where we have a window of opportunity of great magnitude.

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Hajar Javaheri, 18, A-Level student