Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women: Ethnicity, Identity and Belonging [1st ed.] 9783030493110, 9783030493127

Table of contents :
Front Matter ....Pages i-ix
Introduction (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 1-23
Conceptual Considerations (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 25-43
The Experiences of a British-Pakistani Muslim (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 45-78
A Mother’s Love (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 79-111
The Social Role of a Dutiful Daughter-in-Law (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 113-142
Performance of a British-Pakistani Identity (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 143-175
Class and Piety (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 177-207
Conclusion (Noreen Mirza)....Pages 209-217
Back Matter ....Pages 219-239

Citation preview

Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class BritishPakistani Women Ethnicity, Identity and Belonging Noreen Mirza

Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women

Noreen Mirza

Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women Ethnicity, Identity and Belonging

Noreen Mirza University of Manchester Manchester, UK

ISBN 978-3-030-49311-0 ISBN 978-3-030-49312-7 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

For Hafiza Rashid (1931–2020)–conquered with grace, courage and wit.

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I would like to thank the incredible women I base this research on. Thank you for sharing your experiences and giving me an insight into your lives. I am deeply grateful for your friendship, time, kindness and hospitality. I thank wholeheartedly the mothers for sharing their stories and welcoming me into their homes. A special thanks to my editors Mary Al-Sayed and Madison Allums for your help and assistance. I am much obliged to Angela Torresan and express my gratitude to Peter Wade and Katherine Smith for your help and advice which has been invaluable to me. To Sinead O’Sullivan, thank you for your friendship, kindness and inspiration. I am truly indebted for your countless support, advice, encouragement and feedback on endless drafts. I will look back at our times in Friska café fondly, where much of our time was spent discussing my project over coffee and cake. Without the help and encouragement of my family, this project would not have been possible. A heartfelt thanks and gratitude to my husband, Imtiaz and my sisters, Abeda and Selma for your endless support, love and patience. To my brother Haroon, thanks for keeping my family entertained with your stories and delicious sandwiches. To my children, Sophia and Sarim, thank you for your motivation, encouragement and for giving me an insight into your lives as third-generation British-Pakistanis. Finally, an honour to my mother, Hafiza. You had been an endless source of love, support, encouragement and inspiration. Thank you for holding my hand through this journey, I understand you had to let go

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before I reached my destination. Your absence is felt, but your presence never forgotten. You will never cease to inspire, and I will never cease to learn from you.

Contents

1

1

Introduction

2

Conceptual Considerations

25

3

The Experiences of a British-Pakistani Muslim

45

4

A Mother’s Love

79

5

The Social Role of a Dutiful Daughter-in-Law

113

6

Performance of a British-Pakistani Identity

143

7

Class and Piety

177

8

Conclusion

209

References

219

Index

235

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction

As a second-generation British-Pakistani and Muslim woman growing up in Manchester in a predominantly white neighbourhood, I remember the deep desire to be the same as the other children I played with in my neighbourhood and at school. I was aware of the difference in my skin colour, heritage and religious background, as all the children I played with were white British Christians. The yearning to be the same stayed with me into my teenage years. Having similar interests, participating in games with the children and being part of the neighbourhood enabled me to create a feeling of belonging in spite of our differences. My faith and cultural heritage were one of many facets of my identity but, more importantly, it was shared experiences and interests that brought me closer to white British people. Meeting people from diverse cultural, ethnic and religious backgrounds later, as an undergraduate at university, I came to realise that the differences I had so clearly marked were not so firm. What united me and other students was far greater than what separated us, such as our interests, aspirations and shared experiences of university life. By then I could sense that Muslim, Pakistani and British were not monolithic identities: rather there were different ways of being either or both, which people negotiated throughout their daily lives. Reflecting on my own upbringing and experiences of being a secondgeneration British-Pakistani Muslim prompted me to want to understand what was happening among other socially mobile British-Pakistani women © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_1

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in Manchester. More importantly, and like many other people, I was puzzled by the changes regarding the more public and evident expression of religious affiliation among British-Pakistani women, a practice that I will refer to here as ‘visual piety’. Being a Muslim, it was surprising to me that in the aftermath of 9/11 in New York and the 7/7 bombings in London, many middle-class British Muslims were choosing to publicly assert their religious identity while also trying to deal with an increasing wave of Islamophobia through being seen to be good British citizens. A motivating factor for basing my research on middle-class British-Pakistanis was my wish to understand what seemed to be a tension between the practice and desire of being a good Muslim and a good British citizen simultaneously, in the current widespread context of Islamophobia. Through my ethnographic research, I came to realise that while the need for belonging and acceptance is fundamental, the ways in which people are willing and able to belong are far more complex than I had envisaged while growing up. Acceptance (by oneself and others) and belonging (as a sense of attachment to a culture and a group of people) are both governed by the intersection of social positions and feelings that range from our status in terms of class, heritage and gender; our values and personal experiences, which we share with others; and the personal and emotional bonds we forge with people and places. I was interested in hearing the stories of the women I interviewed in the field and what they had to share with me regarding their experiences as middle-class British-Pakistani Muslim second-generation migrants in the context of prejudice and discrimination. How did they negotiate their sense of belonging as British-Pakistani women in England? Socioeconomic advantage and familiarity with the British way of life meant that the women in my study were armed with the tools to challenge prejudice against Muslims and British-Pakistanis. They were far from being passive victims of racial, religious or cultural discrimination. Challenges such as the experience of prejudice have not stopped my participants from accomplishing success in their careers or reaching a strong standing within their circle of family and friends. The women in my study were juggling identities, social positions and migration statuses that seemed contradictory at first, but which made perfect sense to them. This book is an ethnographic study of the identities of middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester, and the sense of belonging they create through recognition and social status. Class, ethnicity, nationality, generation, age, religion and gender influence the

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social status and recognition that the women in my study are trying to garner. They perform different and intersecting identities that have the potential for maximising their status and capital in any particular given social situation. I draw on theories of capital, the social field (Bourdieu 1984), and performance (Goffman 1959) to explore the many ways in which the women juggle with the various expectations others have of their lives and their own ability to gain power and autonomy in a highly competitive migratory social field. The ethnographic material that forms the basis of this book enabled me to grasp the complex status that middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester occupy. My interlocutors inhabited a unique social place, not quite identifying with white British people and neither fully identifying with, nor claiming to belong to, Pakistan in the same way as their parent’s generation. Consequently, they carved out a sense of belonging and identity that was neither white British nor Pakistani, instead creating their own understanding and expectations of what it meant to be a socially mobile British-Pakistani Muslim woman in Manchester. Being middle class and second generation meant that they were not presented with the challenges that working-class first-generation immigrants who came from the 1950s onwards faced. Their parents had to become fluent in another language and to adapt to a new culture, which in many ways was very different from the culture and values they had grown up with in Pakistan. Some of their parents had not been educated beyond secondary level, and initially struggled to improve their material position in Britain. On the other hand, the women in my study had to deal with Islamophobia as a growing global political phenomenon, and consequently the prejudice against Muslims and British-Pakistanis that has increased dramatically in their generation.

Why British-Pakistanis? My own understanding of being a British-Pakistani, which informs my interest in the subject matter of this book, stemmed from my early experiences and the influence of my parents. My parents have always showed an interest in different faiths and cultures, and they had told me that growing up and living side by side with people of different faiths had enabled them to be open minded, yet devout. Instead of focussing on differences, they sought out similarities across diverse faiths and cultures. To me, these were very important attributes, which I value and would like to pass down to my own children. My parents were among the

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many South Asians who had to cope with significant changes. Firstly, they witnessed the independence of India and the creation of Pakistan, during which millions of people had to abandon their homes and communities to make the perilous journey to a new homeland. Secondly, they migrated to Britain, where they faced discrimination while adapting to a life that was deeply unfamiliar to them. These challenging experiences were a test of their resilience and fighting spirit. My parents grew up in what was known then as British India, before Partition in 1947. In his early twenties, my father moved to the U.S for a few years, then for a short time returned to Pakistan before getting married and moving to Britain in the mid1950s with my mother. They briefly lived in Newcastle before moving to London for twelve years and then finally settled in Manchester. My parents were part of a large wave of migration from South Asia to Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. Pakistan was then a new country facing a lot of challenges, among which were the significant number of young Pakistani graduates who were moving to Britain to establish a better life for themselves. Kilic (2008: 435–436) and others have described how, after the Second World War, there was a large wave of immigration from the Indian subcontinent to Britain, to help reconstruct the British cities and industries that had been destroyed during the war. Migrants took on the worst and lowest paid jobs to make up for the labour shortage in Britain. Members of the Commonwealth countries were considered to be citizens of the British Commonwealth and were entitled to the same legal and civic rights as those born in Britain (Kilic 2008: 435–436). Not all were from poor backgrounds or came to fill low-paid jobs. A significant number of Pakistanis were from an established, middle-class urban background, these included civil servants and professionals such as teachers, accountants, social workers and doctors (Werbner 1990: 64). Werbner points out that although Muslims in Britain were considered as a comparatively deprived group, the Muslim community has achieved various degrees of socioeconomic mobility (2002: 100). Many first-generation Pakistanis who moved to Manchester and started life as factory workers eventually built small businesses and moved into the suburbs (Werbner 2002: 10). This was also true of my father and many of his friends who came to Britain at the same time. They worked their way up in their careers to establish themselves. Others achieved success in business and property development, making the most of the opportunities that Britain had to offer and reaping the benefits of their hard work.

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According to my parents, there were not many South Asians living near them at time of their arrival in Britain in the 1950s. They wanted to create a sense of familiarity by forging friendships with others who shared a similar cultural background and language, and who could relate to their daunting experience of leaving home and moving to a country that was alien to them. Therefore, they explained that friendships among South Asians across class, region of origin, and religious divide was common at that time in Britain. They shared the common goal of retaining their values and recreating aspects of the culture of their homeland in the host country. With the influx of more South Asians in the late 1950s and early 1960s, my parents and other South Asians started to establish more specific friendship groups with those who shared the same religion as well as culture, to create a sense of community that seemed more homogeneous to them. All these friendships offered my parents a sense of belonging that mitigated their earlier feeling of isolation. This familiarity also gave my parents the confidence to step out of their comfort zone—to get to know their English neighbours, the shopkeepers and people in the local area who made them feel that they were part of an inclusive local community and overarching nation state. Their efforts to integrate in this way enabled them to become more fluent in English and accustomed to the British way of life, and familiar with British culture, humour and food. Living among the English and people of other nationalities fed my parent’s curiosity about different cultures and backgrounds. More importantly, it allowed them to recognise that they had more in common than they had envisaged at first. They realised that many of their concerns, aspirations and values were almost universal, shared by others across the religious and cultural divides.1 I believe it was my upbringing and having parents who were curious about other faiths and cultures that influenced my desire to become an anthropologist. There have been many previous studies of Pakistanis in Britain, as they are a sizable minority in Britain, and their presence and influence in society has not been overlooked. The 2011 census showed that in the ten-year period from 2001 to 2011, there was a 73% rise in the number of Pakistanis living in Manchester, with a total of 42,904 people (Jivraj 2013: 1).2 The results of the 2011 census analysis for Manchester showed that Pakistanis are the largest ethnic minority group in Manchester, making up 9% of the population (Jivraj 2013: 1). Looking at the percentage of Pakistanis in other cities in England, a report in the Telegraph (20 November 2008) showed that Birmingham has one of the

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largest Pakistani population in the world outside of Pakistan, at 11% of its population. This report also states that Pakistanis make up 15.6% of the population of Bradford, showing that there is a greater proportion of Pakistanis in parts of Yorkshire in comparison to Manchester. I address ‘British-Pakistanis’ as opposed to ‘British Muslims’ for several reasons, namely the fact that there are not many comprehensive studies that explore contemporary issues or the growing number of upwardly mobile second-generation British-Pakistanis. I also argue that there is a gap in the research about the relationship between race and class in Islam. Furthermore, my contribution is in terms of a new understanding of British-Pakistani women in the context of belonging, identity and capital, focussing on everyday life. The intersection of ethnicity religion and culture is pivotal in my study. I use Wade’s definition of ethnicity referring to ‘cultural’ differences rather than the more controversial notion of phenotype and physical appearance, although it can also include the latter (Wade 2010: 16). Like race, ethnicity is a social construction. Both terms can refer to the collective understanding and acceptance of a common origin and therefore can also be used to distinguish racial and/or ethnic forms of sameness and difference (Wade 2010: 15–16). Among the women in my study, religion and culture are intertwined, which is why I look at religion in the context of national and ethnic identity. A sense of identity and belonging among the women in my study was affected by the media’s misrepresentation of Muslims and Pakistanis, terrorist attacks, disparities in the intergenerational interpretation of Islam, and negative images of British-Pakistanis in the eyes of affluent Pakistanis from Pakistan (Pakistani nationals). The women I interviewed wanted to subvert not only the stereotypes of British-Pakistanis created by the media, but also the reputation of the previous generation of Pakistanis in Britain as being poor, uneducated, devoid of agency, and locked in a patriarchal culture. The negative stereotypes of British-Pakistanis and Muslims in the media made it challenging for them to feel accepted and respected outside of their ethnic and religious group. In a world which felt increasingly hostile towards Muslims, many British-Pakistanis felt pushed closer to their faith and cultural heritage. Glick Schiller (2008: 3) emphasises the importance of acknowledging that ethnic groups are not bounded, but boundedness is itself created in response to different situations, creating the illusion that identities are fixed. Positive recognition and respect for their ethnic and religious identity was fundamental for their esteem and

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sense of self. These women were realising that they were in a unique position, in that their experiences were different to those of other middleclass migrants in Britain. They had to prove that they were worthy of their status, not just as middle-class women, but as British Muslims who deserved acknowledgment for upholding British values.3 I was interested in finding out how the experiences of the women in my study, juxtaposed with the values and experiences passed down by their parents, have defined what it means to them to be British-Pakistani. While it could be contested that there is plenty of research on BritishPakistanis, and on British Asians more generally, I argue there is still much to explore.4 Identities evolve from one generation to the next and subsequent generations face different challenges and encounter different experiences than those of their parents. For example, the nature of the prejudice that British–Pakistanis are subjected to has shifted from the racism predominately experienced by the first generation, to Islamophobia in more recent times. Therefore, this book contributes to the scholarly discussion of BritishPakistanis by examining the lives of middle-class British-Pakistani women in the context of prejudice (racial and religious) in the Western world. Among the women in my study, the rhetoric of Islamophobia was the impetus to challenge the negative stereotypes of Muslims and Muslim women as being submissive and devoid of agency. One of the main contributions of my work is to explore how my interlocutors wanted to show non-Muslims that Muslim and British values were the same. In their dayto-day lives they were demonstrating that it was possible to proud of being both British and Muslim, and that there is no tension between the two identities, contrary to what is depicted in the media. Even though this book explores how women have coped with Islamophobia, my main interest is to show the complex everyday negotiations they engage with in different contexts in order to create and maintain a sense of belonging as middle-class British-Pakistanis in Britain today. Within these negotiations they inevitably reacted to Islamophobia, but their lives and interests go beyond and are much richer than what their reactions to racism and prejudice could express. Despite the fact that middle-class experiences of prejudice among British-Pakistanis is a relatively recent topic of research, previous studies of British-Pakistanis provide an invaluable foundation for my research, notably the works of Werbner (1990, 2002) and Shaw (1988, 2000). These studies have shed light on the settlement of British-Pakistanis in

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Britain between 1950 and 1970. Werbner’s (1990, 2002) study of firstgeneration Pakistanis in Manchester and Shaw’s (1988, 2000) study of first-generation Pakistanis in Oxford has given me an understanding of the migration history and settlement of the first generation and also the ways in which the first generation attempted to replicate some of the rituals from their homeland and maintain their cultural and religious values. Even though the above literature touches upon the middle class and the second generation, the focus has been mainly on first-generation working-class Pakistanis, and second-generation youth from a workingclass background. Both Baumann (1996) and Ballard (1994) have based their studies on the working–class, mainly first-generation British South Asians which include British-Pakistanis. My ethnographic study focusses on issues of class and the building of capital (social, cultural, moral) in the experiences of and from the perspectives of the predominantly second-generation British-Pakistani women who have experienced upward social mobility. This ethnography gives insight into the everyday lives of middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester. A motivating factor for the women in my study to be so competitive was their awareness of the sacrifices their parents had made to create the conditions that would allow the family to move up socially and economically. Parents, especially mothers, were the driving force behind the women in my study. From a young age, mothers took an interest in their daughter’s academic progress, encouraging and supporting them to excel in their education. Their upbringing had a huge impact on their ambitions, values, and the way they raised their own children. For example, the value of education was pivotal for the women in my study, and they were competitive with other parents about their children’s academic and extra-curricular achievements. Maintaining and improving their status was a matter of great importance, and competition between the women regarding all aspects of their lives was an ever-present incentive, as I will show in the chapters that follow. Bhimji (2012) describes a recent study of a similar demographic. She worked with young British Asian Muslim women in Manchester and Preston, mostly university students and young professionals that she met at Islamic study centres and mosques. Bhimji’s study looks at the lives of British Asians from the standpoint of their Islamic identity and experiences of being British Muslim. Bhimji highlights how the women exploit Islamic rhetoric to challenge patriarchal expectations and other cultural constraints, and how Islam is used as a tool for empowerment (2012:

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23–28). Though my research covers similar ground, the emphasis of my study is on British-Pakistani identities, whereas Bhimji focusses on a more general British Asian Muslim experience. My study looks beyond the religious and cultural experience of middle-class British-Pakistani women and observes women’s everyday lives and the intersections between ethnicity, gender and class. What also differentiates my study from Bhimji’s is that I focus on middle-class British-Pakistani women from the perspective of their roles as mothers, aunts, daughters, sisters, daughters-in-law and friends. I explore what it means to be British-Pakistani and why this specific identity is important as a means of amassing capital and recognition, highlighting the multiple identities which intersect at different points in their lives. My study shows that the social milieu in which the women engage predicts their overriding identities—foregrounding the ones that would earn them the most capital. Furthermore, earlier research on British Asians (including Pakistanis) such as the work of Ballard (1994) has discussed the impact of prejudice on first-generation migrants and the ways in which they have dealt with it.5 Ballard focussed on the relationship of young second-generation British Asians with their parents’ culture and their British Asian identity (1994, 2008). Ballard (1994) analyses the settlement of South Asians in Britain and the strategies that they have adopted to deal with obstacles such as prejudice, cultural differences, and language barriers. Ballard coined the term ‘ethnic crystallisation’ (2008: 44) to describe the development of a support network and the pooling of resources among fellow migrants belonging to the same ethnic group, to help each other deal with unfamiliar surroundings and draw comfort and strength from one another, thus establishing a community in which they felt a sense of belonging and respect. Ballard’s concept of ‘ethnic crystallisation’ refers to an exclusive support network applying to those who belong within the same ethnic group. For example, Ballard describes how people employ these networks to find a job in order to help them settle in the host country (2008: 44). Although Ballard’s point is important in the context he observed, the idea of social cohesion has led some researchers to theorise ethnic groups as bounded categories. This theoretical approach could overlook the many other forms of interaction between people outside of their ethnic or religious group. Glick Schiller et al. (2006: 613) point out that the idea of an ethnic group as a unit of analysis has been taken for granted by researchers, and contest that it fails to account for non-ethnic forms of

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connections and multifaceted identities based on class, religion, occupation, and social position, thus creating an illusion of homogeneity. The significance of non-ethnic forms of migrant incorporation sheds light on relationships that go beyond shared culture and history, giving a more accurate depiction of the lives of migrants. Although one needs to be attentive to going beyond the ‘ethnic lenses’ framework (Glick Schiller et al. 2006: 613), what Ballard (2008: 44) is referring to with his idea of ethnic crystallisation is a form of social solidarity and a coping strategy among first-generation South Asians in response to prejudice and an unfamiliar way of life and surroundings in Britain. The women in my study simultaneously created a sense of ethnic cohesion while also establishing relationships with non-Pakistanis of other faiths, but they were still fighting against discrimination and prejudice in their daily lives. The difference between their and their parents’ generation has been the increasing public and global resonance and impact of Islamophobia.

Working as a Native Anthropologist Anthropologists have long discussed the position of native anthropologist (or insider anthropologist), and a few have argued against the formal dichotomy between inside/outside that the category implies (Chavez 2008; Messerschmidt 1981), maintaining that anthropologists’ identifications shift according to and alongside their relationships (Narayan 1993: 671–672). Without entering into the epistemological debate on this issue, I use the term here not simply because I share the same culture as my interlocutors, but also what Merton (1996) has called a ‘status set’ (Merton 1996: 113). That is, I share with most of the women in my study identifications of gender, class, marital status, education, migration and religious belief. I admit, however, that even as a native anthropologist I did not always identify with my research participants, and sometimes I felt very different from them. As I mentioned earlier, in recent years there has been an increasing trend among British Muslims, which includes British-Pakistani women, to assert their religiosity. Many women in Manchester were espousing a more conservative interpretation of Islam and wearing the headscarf, a visual and public representation of their faith. This tendency did not resonate with my own personal religious practice.

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My experiences as a native anthropologist showed me the diversity among people with whom I shared the same ethnic and religious background. I was constantly learning something new about the women, such as the multiple ways of expressing one’s faith and performing one’s cultural identity. Therefore, it was not surprising that at times during my fieldwork I felt like an outsider because of my own understanding of Islam, and my experiences of being a second-generation British-Pakistani in Manchester were different from those of many of the women with whom I spent time. This can be quite common among native anthropologists. Bhimji (2012: 20) describes how her secular beliefs, values and life experiences often made her feel like an outsider. However, a shared ethnic identity helped Bhimji to forge commonalities and to bridge the gap between her and her research participants. Like Bhimji, the research experience also made me feel simultaneously like an insider and outsider. I am what one can call a ‘native anthropologist’, and my story is at the same time both very specific to my own family and collectively shared. Nevertheless, many people I spoke to assumed that studying my own society would be an easy task because of my familiarity with it in terms of language, customs and values. They were also under the impression that participants would be more open and accommodating with me because of the presumption that people are more open to and trusting of those of a similar background. While perhaps the first contact with the women may have been easier, in occupying the position of native anthropologist (Narayan 1993) I had to comply with cultural obligations and sanctions that would probably not have been imposed on someone who was not seen as an insider like myself. Another disadvantage of being a native anthropologist was the likelihood of the participant being reticent or holding back information because of the fear of confidential information being leaked to others in the community: that is, the fear of gossip. Some participants feel they face being morally judged by the researcher who ascribes to the same cultural norms and values (Altorki 1989: 58). Embarking on my fieldwork, I was mindful of this and therefore I was very careful in how I broached certain questions and topics so not to overstep the mark. Saying that, as I got to know my participants well, I became adept at gauging how much I could push the boundaries. Over time, I gained their trust, allowing them to open up to me as they began to see me more as a friend than an interlocutor. The boundaries between us became blurred because we shared the same faith, ethnicity and social class. Regardless of

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the fact that I considered myself and was seen as a native anthropologist, I retained a sense of professionalism by being careful when expressing my own opinions on matters when these conflicted with those of my participants. The common assumption among my participants that, as a native anthropologist, I had an implicit understanding about our shared culture had other consequences. Sometimes, the women in my research were less likely to be explicit in answering questions because of their assumption that sharing the same culture and religion gives the researcher an ability to read between the lines (Altorki 1989: 59). This was a rather arduous task in my experience, because I did not want to risk misconstruing the information my participants gave me. Even if they felt that what they were discussing was obvious and self-explanatory, I still reiterated their statements or asked for an explanation. After a while my participants got used to this, realising that the aim of my research was to be as accurate as possible about the information they imparted, and came to appreciate my role as an anthropologist/researcher. A challenging factor in my role as a native anthropologist was the fact that I was supposed to understand, and respect boundaries associated with gender among British-Pakistani migrants. I believe that this hindered my access to men in a way that may not have happened for a non-South Asian female anthropologist, who would not have been expected to know certain gender codes of conduct. Attempting to interview men, such as the husbands of women I met in the field, would have been a somewhat controversial step in my case. The reason being that, in addition to expecting me to know the right way of conducting myself, the women did not know me well enough and therefore were not in a position to trust me to speak one-to-one with their spouses. At the root of this was the fear of gossip, because as a British-Pakistani woman it was not culturally appropriate for me to spend time with men I did not know, particularly married men, and even more particularly, their husbands. Therefore, I was faced with cultural restrictions, and challenging these gendered cultural norms could effectively jeopardise my relationships in the field. This is something that Altorki (1989) also encountered in her own study. Her position as a Saudi woman conducting fieldwork in Jeddah meant that immunity and certain freedoms were exclusively reserved for non-native anthropologists (1989: 58). Furthermore, on a practical note, the men may not have had the time to contribute to my research. Most of my participants worked

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flexible hours, part-time, or had taken career breaks, and this meant that they had the time to commit to my research. However, the women in my study often mentioned their husbands in conversation, and on this basis, I was able to construct a portrait of them. From what they told me, their husbands played a supportive role in their lives, not only financially but also domestically. Husbands helped with household chores, and often shared the school run and other commitments involving the children. An evening out with their husband at least once a week, leaving the children with close relatives, was a priority for most of the women I spoke to. The fact that they led very fulfilling lives doing what brought them satisfaction showed that their spouses were quite often very supportive. On several occasions, the women in my study mentioned that they wanted to look good to make their husband proud and keep their marriage alive. For the women, the sacrifices they made such as putting their career on hold to raise their family and the efforts they made to manage their appearance were also investments in their marriage. Their marriage was part of an investment in their own identities as wives, mothers, and dutiful daughters-in-law. In return, they not only expected love and trust in their marriage, but also support from their husband in the decisions they made and the lifestyle they led. Despite the fact that the women had strong marital relationships, they were not complacent about marriage, knowing that marriage was something that needed to be constantly worked at by both partners. Divorce was not a cultural taboo, and consequently the women I came across were aware that if marriage expectations were not met by either party, it could lead to breakdown. However, I did not delve into the intimacies of marriage as this was definitely the private domain, something that the women did not want to share with me. As an anthropologist it was my duty to know which boundaries could not be pushed.

Fieldwork and Participants I began fieldwork in October 2012 in South Manchester. My study involved following the lives of a core group of twelve women over a period of fourteen months. I interviewed approximately 80 women, including my core participants’ friends and families and other women who could not commit to participate for longer periods because of the time involved. The women who eventually became the core participants

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in my research were interested in it because it gave them an opportunity to express their views and concerns, and to share their experiences of being middle-class British-Pakistanis in Manchester. While some of the women in my study were friends or acquaintances, or their children went to the same school, not all my participants knew each other. They did not live in the same neighbourhood but were from different areas around South Manchester. Some ethnographies look into the lives of people living in a certain area or belonging to a particular place or community, and therefore, these people are addressed according to the group or area they identify with. My ethnographic research was not so clear cut as to allow me to slot my participants under an umbrella in terms of belonging to a place or community. I could not refer to them as women from a specific area or affiliated to a certain group, community or membership. Therefore, throughout the chapters, I refer to my core participants as ‘the women’. Through my observations and conversations, I discovered what was important to the women. They had different histories and were from diverse backgrounds. The experiences they shared with me are rich and unique contributions to my study. I used qualitative methods throughout my research, implementing structured and semi-structured interviews at the start, and then moving onto conversations, which I recorded with their permission. I opted for conversations on a one-to-one basis and carried out participant observation in group settings. I conducted further structured interviews with my core participants as fieldwork drew to an end, to recap and to make sure I had covered all the topics that I had intended to. As some of the women with were already friends, I often met a pair of friends together as well as meeting them individually. At other times, I met them in larger groups, usually when they invited me for lunch or to a restaurant with their friendship groups. Thus, most of my conversations and interviews took place with two women at one time. This worked well because I was able to listen into the conversation among two close friends sharing their thoughts, ideas and experiences, which allowed me a deep insight into their own theories about their lives. Amber was the only participant who I had already known well before I started the research, as we had been close friends for many years. Amber was a second-generation British-Pakistani, like most of the women in my study. She worked as a solicitor but had recently taken a career break to concentrate on her family. Our children attended the same primary school where she introduced me to her friends Syrah and Laila, who she had also

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met at the school. Syrah was a doctor in general medicine, before taking a career break to raise her family. Syrah was born and raised in Pakistan and moved to Manchester in 2002, after marrying a second-generation British-Pakistani man. Laila worked full time as a barrister. Although she is a British-Indian Muslim, I chose to interview Laila because she was married to a second-generation British-Pakistani and most of her friends were British-Pakistanis, and therefore she identified with BritishPakistanis. The fact that Laila has close affiliations to British-Pakistanis through marriage and friendships illustrates how ‘British-Pakistani’ is a category that can accommodate people who are close to it. Farah was another second-generation British-Pakistani I met at the primary school which both of our children attended. Farah worked parttime in human resources and volunteered at Riverside mosque one day a week, to help with the mosque’s mother and toddler group.6 She also knew Laila, Syrah and Amber very well because the women attended religious classes and social events at Riverside mosque. Riverside mosque was central to my research since many of the women were members of this mosque as it was either local to their home or to their children’s school. Farah introduced me to the mother and toddler’s group held at the mosque. I accompanied her to this group, which was held on Tuesday mornings from 10 a.m. till 12 p.m. I visited the group every week for a couple of months in search of potential participants. At the mother and toddler’s group Farah introduced me to Malia, a second-generation British-Pakistani. They had met through the mosque and were now very close friends. Malia had given up work as an accountant to raise her family but envisaged resuming her career once her children were older. At the mother and toddler’s group I also met Roshan. Before her second child was born, she had worked as a financial analyst and depended on her parents for childcare. Roshan felt that such a work-life balance would not be sustainable with two children, and this was the reason why she had decided to take a career break. Roshan introduced me to her friend Nadia, whom she had met at her children’s primary school. Both Roshan and Nadia were second-generation British-Pakistanis. Nadia was happy to engage in my study—she worked part-time as a pharmacist and enjoyed the balance of work and family life. Early in my fieldwork, I attended an Asian wedding show at the Midland Hotel in Manchester for the sole purpose of finding people for my study. There I met Ruby, who was promoting her wedding photography, video and bridal makeup business. After browsing through her very

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impressive portfolio of wedding photos, I explained that I was looking for potential participants for my research. Ruby was very interested in my project and volunteered to participate. Apart from Syrah, Ruby was the only other woman in my study who had been born and raised in Pakistan. Ruby and her husband had moved to Britain a year after getting married. Both Ruby and Syrah were from an affluent background, and their fathers were doctors in Pakistan. They had attended prestigious schools and universities in Pakistan and were accustomed to a privileged lifestyle and international travel growing up. Unlike the second-generation BritishPakistanis in my study, both women were not the first generation of their families to go to university or to have a professional career. Through conversations about their life in Pakistan and their visits to Pakistan, both Ruby and Syrah helped me to understand the place of contemporary Pakistan in the imaginary of second-generation British-Pakistani women. Hina was an acquaintance I ran into just before I started my fieldwork. We started talking and she was encouraging about my research and was happy to be part of it. Hina had a very demanding lifestyle, being divorced, and working full time as a dentist to provide for her three children over whom she had full custody. We managed to meet in the evenings, and she also introduced me to her close friend Serena who was also willing to help me with my research. Both Hina and Serena were second-generation British-Pakistani. Serena had worked as an actuary but had given up her job to devote more time to her elderly parents. She now worked part-time in her husband’s property business, which offered her the flexibility she needed to care for her parents. Another participant, Gazala, a second-generation British-Pakistani, was introduced to me through her sister Rania whom I had met at university during my masters. Gazala was a food nutritionist and a practitioner in holistic medicine. The last person I met was Anayah, the youngest of all the women I interviewed. The other women in my research were in their thirties and forties and had children. Anayah was twenty-four years old and had been in Britain for six months. She was a second-generation Pakistani from Sweden and had only recently moved to Manchester, after marrying a second-generation British-Pakistani. I met her at a dinner dance, which I was attending as part of my fieldwork. These women became my core participants through whom I met the others that I interviewed. They introduced me to their friends and family, and I accompanied them to different events and organisations where much of my observations took place. These observations gave me an

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insight into their lives. I look at their struggles as they balance their desires to advance in their careers and their duty to family, faith and cultural obligations. Being a native anthropologist, these findings were very enlightening to me. Even though I had a lot in common with the women in my study, at the same time my interests, experiences, and my religious understanding were in some ways different from theirs. This, I argue, encapsulates the importance of other identities and influences, apart from religious and cultural, that shape the person we become and the identities and values that we choose to embrace. Where we grow up, the family we belong to, the friends we make, and our life experiences shape us in stronger ways than any prescribed national, ethnic and religious identities.

Outline of Chapters The chapters in this book engage with the question of identity and belonging in the context of middle-class second-generation migrants. Each chapter illustrates the ways in which women are exploring certain aspects of their identities for the purpose of garnering recognition among their families and network of friends. My findings illustrate that each relationship and social interaction that the women engaged in was meaningful in the sense that it earned them honour and respect through their personal relationships with family and friends. It is through the performance of the particular roles explored in each chapter that the women try to create their own sense of identity, while also establishing themselves as belonging to their closer social groups and their wider affiliation as British-Pakistani.

Chapter 2---Conceptual Considerations Although theoretical engagement critical to producing a deep analysis of the ethnography is present throughout each chapter, much of the conceptual framework and theoretical groundwork is laid out in this chapter. As well as defining the concepts salient to my study, in this chapter I also highlight the intersection of different identities such as ethnicity, religion, and class as ways of belonging and amassing power and capital, which is pivotal to my study.

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Chapter 3---The Experiences of a British-Pakistani Muslim This chapter looks at the relationship between class and minority status. I discuss the ways in which the women deal with discrimination and prejudice, and still manage to create a sense of belonging. The ways in which the women I worked with have carved a way of belonging in Britain where the climate has become increasingly more hostile towards Muslims and British-Pakistanis was very interesting to me. The women acknowledged the hostility towards their ethnic and religious group: thus familiarity, friends and family offered them a sense of belonging. I will look at forms of belonging using Yuval-Davis’s (2011: 10) understanding of the term, which relates to inclusion and attachment. Strong family ties and having British-Pakistanis as their closest friends with whom they shared similar values and experiences offered the women a sense of belonging and ‘rootedness’ in Manchester. Belonging and friendship along lines of ethnicity and religion was not a deliberate act of self-segregation but rather a consequence of a lack of acceptance, respect, value and recognition by white British people. Despite this, a number of women forged close friendships outside of their ethnic and religious group with people who were more inclusive. They often pointed out that the values and traits that amassed status and capital among middle-class British-Pakistanis had no bearing or recognition among the white British majority, which impacted their sense of belonging and identity as British. My research looks beyond the characteristics of middle-class status illustrated by authors who have used wealth, occupation, education, leisure activities, interests, lifestyle and where people live as a measure of middle-class status in their work on ethnic minorities (Raj 2003: 26; Block and Corona 2014: 34). Ethnicity, cultural and religious values play a pivotal role in defining middle-class identity among British-Pakistani women in my study, and the prejudice they faced seemed to be founded on these differences, and the failure of white British people to recognise similarities. Some women in my study made efforts to forge friendships outside of their ethnic and religious group but sensed a lack of reciprocation.

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Chapter 4---A Mother’s Love Throughout my fieldwork the women spoke a lot about their mothers and the close bond they shared with them. The relationship between mothers and daughters was critical in my study. Values, identities, belonging, and the desire for upward mobility are established in the home and particularly influenced by the mother. It is the relationship with their mothers that gives the women the emotional and moral strength to face a world of high competition and prejudice. It is the unconditional love and support that the women receive from their mothers that instils them with confidence and the drive to face challenges and to prove they are successful migrants worthy of respect and status, as highlighted in Chapter 3. The women were indebted to their mothers for their support and encouragement, which helped them to excel in their education and career. It is reassuring for them to know that if other relationships in their lives do not work out or their lives do not go according to plan, they will always have a place to fall back on, a place of solace, unconditional love and support: their parents’ home. Unlike other relationships, with parents they did not have to prove themselves or keep up appearances.

Chapter 5---The Social Role of Dutiful Daughter-in-Law The role of family, which includes blood relations and affine, has hugely impacted the sense of belonging and esteem for the women. An insight into these relationships is key to understanding the values the women hold close, and which also influence their national, religious and cultural identities, as discussed in this book. Notably, the role of and expectations on daughters–in-law was salient among the British-Pakistani women in my study. For that reason, I felt it was necessary to investigate in detail this relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, which is often complex. Even though the role of a daughter-in-law is to observe patriarchal customs, the women I spoke to have the agency to exploit their position as a daughter-in-law to their advantage, such as through the opportunity to earn capital and status.

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Chapter 6---Performance of a British-Pakistani Identity At a ‘women only’ dinner dance, organised by two second-generation British-Pakistani sisters and their British-Pakistani friend, I had the opportunity to observe the women’s multiple performances and celebrations of this hyphenated identity. The influence of wealthy Pakistani nationals who had recently settled in Britain had an impact on the second-generation British-Pakistanis.7 Along with them they had brought an image of Pakistani culture far removed from one that is portrayed in the British media. For the women I observed at this and similar events, the celebration of their cultural heritage was expressed through food, fashion, music, values and nostalgia.8 It was through a shared cultural background and interests that the women established belonging and recognition. Friendships among British-Pakistanis and participation and interest in Pakistani cultural events earned the women status and capital. Among second-generation British-Pakistanis, interest in their cultural heritage and affiliation with their cultural identity was initiated in the home through parental influence. Friendships with other British-Pakistanis strengthened this identity. It is through these friendships that women celebrate and share a British-Pakistani culture and negotiate values that earn them respect, power and status. The idea of their identity as a British-Pakistani identity was important for the women. It was an identity they could claim for themselves, one which was constructed from their experiences, upbringing, interests and surroundings.9

Chapter 7---Class and Piety The focus on faith seemed to be a growing trend among some of the British-Pakistani Muslims I met before and during my fieldwork. This chapter explores the role of religion and the relationship between class and piety through the understanding and practice of faith. Visual piety through the wearing of headscarves also seemed to be increasingly popular among many Muslims with whom I spoke. As I mentioned above, understanding this new religious leaning in women with whom I had so much in common was one of the motives that led me to embark on this research. Many of the women were becoming increasingly competitive in terms of their faith and, more specifically, the kind of knowledge

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they had acquired of Islam outside of the family. They explained to me that increasing their understanding and devotion to Islam was both a way to distinguish themselves from the kind of ‘blind’ ‘cultural’ compliance of low-income Pakistani migrants to Islam, as well as a reaction to the growing Islamophobia that their generation was experiencing.

Notes 1. My parents were experiencing integration with a difference, by finding similarities in values and lifestyle with non-Pakistanis and non-Muslims around them. Their understanding of integration coincided with ideas of multiculturalism. According to Baumann (1999: 85), multiculturalism is not about keeping fixed cultural differences apart, but rather it is about the recognition of overlapping similarities. Although my study does not address multiculturalism as a public policy in Britain, I acknowledge that my parents experienced being migrants at a time when the hegemonic discourse on migration was multiculturalism. In Britain, multicultural policies were deployed to help immigrants from post-colonial countries settle in and integrate into the host country. These policies were inspired by the policies implemented in the USA, Canada and Australia. The problem that multiculturalism has posed in these countries is an ongoing debate between those calling for assimilation and those calling for the preservation of the cultures of ethnic minorities (Yuval-Davis 1997: 197). Touraine argues that, in order for multiculturalism to work, social unity and cultural diversity need to go hand in hand, claiming that, ‘It is not the separation of cultures or the isolation of subcultures which makes a multicultural society, it is their intercommunication, hence the need for a common language which will allow coming to terms with each other while recognising differences’ (Touraine 1997, cited in Grillo 2005: 38). 2. Census 2011, Office of National Statistics. 3. According to the website gov.uk, guidance on promoting British values in schools published under the 2010–2015 Conservative and Liberal Democrat coalition defines British values as including respect and tolerance for different faiths and beliefs, promoting individual liberty, democracy and the law. The women in my study recognised this and alongside this definition they believed British values to include being kind, considerate and charitable, and being proactive in local causes their neighbourhood, work community, school community and the surrounding area. https://www.gov.uk/government/news/guidance-on-promoting-bri tish-values-in-schools-published.

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4. Ballard (1994) and Baumann (1996) are examples of some scholars who have studied first-generation British South Asians in general, from different religious and cultural backgrounds. 5. The category of ‘British Asian’ or ‘South Asian’ includes other South Asians, relating to both religious groups (such as Hindus, Sikhs, Christians and Buddhists) and also nationalities (for example Indians, Bangladeshis and Sri Lankans). 6. This was one of the two mosques in the leafy suburbs of South Manchester that the women in my study visited. The names of both mosques and the venues of social events have been changed for the purpose of anonymity. 7. By ‘Pakistani nationals’ I mean wealthy middle-class Pakistanis who have settled in Britain in recent years. 8. Nostalgia associated with visits to Pakistan, memories of gatherings they attended growing up with their parents, linking places, objects, smells, memories with cultural heritage. 9. Upbringing refers to the values passed down by parents.

References Altorki, S. (1989). At home in the field. In S. Altorki & C. Fawzi El-Solh (Eds.), Arab women in the field: Studying your own society (pp. 49–68). Cairo: American University in Cairo Press. Ballard, R. (1994). Desh pardesh: The South Asian presence in Britain. London: Hurst. Ballard, R. (2008). Inside and outside: Contrasting perspectives on the dynamics of kinship and marriage in contemporary South Asian transnational networks. In R. Grillo (Ed.), The family in question: Immigrant and ethnic minorities in multicultural Europe (pp. 37–70). Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Baumann, G. (1996). Contesting culture: Discourses of identity in multi-ethnic London. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baumann, G. (1999). The multicultural riddle: Rethinking, national, ethnic and religious identities. London: Routledge. Bhimji, F. (2012). British Asian Muslim women, multiple spatialities and cosmopolitanism. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Block, D., & Corona, V. (2014). Exploring class-based intersectionality. Language, Culture and Curriculum, 27 (1), 27–42. Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A social critique of the judgment of taste. London: Routledge. Chavez, C. (2008). Conceptualizing from the inside: Advantages, complications, and demands on insider positionality. The Qualitative Report, 13(3), 474–494. Glick Schiller, N. (2008). Beyond methodological ethnicity: Local and transnational pathways of immigrant incorporation (Willy Brandt Series of Working

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papers in International Migration and Ethnic Relations). Malmo: Malmö Institute for Studies of Migration, Diversity and Welfare (MIM) and Department of International Migration and Ethnic Relations (IMER) Malmö University. Glick Schiller, N., Çaˇglar, A., & Guldbrandsen, T. (2006). Beyond the ethnic lens: Locality, globality, and born-again incorporation. American Ethnologist, 33(4), 612–633. Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. London: Penguin. Grillo, R. (2005). Backlash against diversity? Identity and cultural politics in European cities (Centre on Migration, Policy and Society Working Paper No. 14). University of Oxford. Jivraj, S. (2013). Geographies of diversity in Manchester. Local dynamics of diversity: Evidence from the 2011 census. Report prepared by ESRC Centre on Dynamics of Ethnicity (CODE). Available at http://hummedia.manchester. ac.uk/institutes/code/briefings/localdynamicsofdiversity/geographies-of-div ersity-in-manchester.pdf. Kilic, S. (2008). The British veil wars. Social Politics, 15(4), 433–454. Merton, R. K. (1996). On social structure and science. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Messerschmidt, D. A. (1981). Anthropologists at home in North America: Methods and issues in the study of one’s own society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Narayan, K. (1993). How native is a ‘native’ anthropologist? American Anthropologist, 95(3), 671–686. Raj, D. (2003). Where are you from? Middle-class migrants in the modern world. London: University of California Press. Shaw, A. (1988). A Pakistani community in Britain. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Shaw, A. (2000). Kinship and continuity: Pakistani families in Britain. London: Routledge. Wade, P. (2010). Race and ethnicity in Latin America. London: Pluto Press. Werbner, P. (1990). The migration process: Capital, gifts and offerings among British Pakistanis. Oxford: Berg. Werbner, P. (2002). Imagined diasporas among Manchester Muslims: The public performance of Pakistani transnational identity politics. Oxford: James Currey. Yuval-Davis, N. (1997). Ethnicity, gender relations and multiculturalism. In P. Werbner & T. Modood (Eds.), Debating cultural hybridity: Multicultural identities and the politics of anti-racism (pp. 193–208). London: Zed Books. Yuval-Davis, N. (2011). The politics of belonging: Intersectional contestations. London: Sage.

CHAPTER 2

Conceptual Considerations

Middle-Class Identity Throughout this book I discuss how the women do not feel that their middle-class status is recognised among many white British people as a result of prejudice and the stereotypical images they hold of BritishPakistanis and Muslims. Several scholars on migration studies have pointed out a similar situation in their own work (Khattab et al. 2011; Anthias 2001; Raj 2003). Shahrokni’s (2015) study of social mobility among the children of North African immigrants in France shows the salience of the relationship between ethnicity, race and class. Goffman (1959) argues that an ‘Arab-looking’ phenotype works as ‘information carriers’ that attach minority status to low socio-economic background and limited knowledge of high culture (cited in Shahrokni 2015: 1057). According to Archer, professional people from an ethnic minority background consider middle-class ethnic identity to be an anomaly, a they associate middle-class status with whiteness (2012: 135). The women did not think that their middle-class position was an anomaly but believed that their class identity was not acknowledged by a lot of white British people because it was overshadowed by markers of differences such as skin colour, religious or cultural differences. Tyler points out people often identify others in terms of class and ethnicity, and this affects a person’s sense of self-worth and social capital. Therefore, class and ethnic identities influence how one relates to others on both a professional and personal © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_2

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level, governing our choice of friendships, partners and where we choose to live (2011: 525). Consequently, the women chose to celebrate their social positioning among those who acknowledged it. Chapter 6, which focusses on a women-only dinner dance celebrating British-Pakistani culture, illustrates the fact that middle-class status was negotiated among British-Pakistani women independently of whether or not this was recognised by the white British people around them. Many British-Pakistanis at this event, for instance, looked to affluent Pakistanis who had recently settled in Britain from Pakistan as a source of culture and social capital. This did not necessarily imply that second-generation British-Pakistanis who came from a wealthy background acquired greater capital, but that in some social situations, knowledge or participation in Pakistani high culture garnered recognition. Middle-class identity is very much enmeshed in personal appearance, femininity, knowledge of aspects of contemporary Pakistani culture such as dress and language (fluency in Urdu), acquired through transnational social fields: demonstrating how class, gender and ethnicity are exploited by the women as resources they can turn into capital. More importantly, class status was performed in overlapping social fields with different priorities, contenders and interests. This is also noted in Fathi’s study of Iranian migrants in the UK. Here, status is linked to lifestyle, cultural practices, dress, bodily dispositions, values and speech (2017: 24). All of the women were immensely competitive and sought acknowledgment for their attributes. Those who did not have access to transnational social fields sought alternative ways of seeking capital, such as through religious knowledge or other skills and qualities. For example, the academic progress of each other’s children seemed to be a popular topic of conversation at this and similar events. Information about schools, university league tables, teaching techniques and tutoring methods were shared among the women. The women placed a lot of emphasis on their children’s academic progress, which to them reflected good parenting, and granted them social capital among their friends and family. A certain type of parenting earned the women social capital and recognition, such as the religious and cultural upbringing of their children, as well as academic success.1 The importance of education and wealth is very much enmeshed in the migration history of South Asians. Raj argues that most South Asians who settled in Britain were largely from rural and working-class backgrounds. They saw themselves as successful migrants through their

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financial achievements, which promoted social mobility (2005: 36). While some of the women I spoke to stated that their parents were from a middle-class background in Pakistan, the majority were from a rural or working-class background, and gained middle-class status in Britain through business or professional careers. The women whose parents had started life in Britain as working class still spoke of being raised with middle-class aspirations, such as valuing the importance of education. The purpose of their migration to Britain was to provide a better life for their children and to elevate the socioeconomic status of their relatives in Pakistan through remittances to invest in education, property and business. Everyday the women were refuting negative images of BritishPakistanis through the performance of their social class position. Here, I do not discuss class as an organising principle as has been taken up by sociologists (Devine 2004; Bennett et al. 2009; Skeggs 2004) or through a focus on the working class. Instead, I define class as ethnographically emergent. Among the women in my study, ‘middle class’ is an idea: a performance of an identity, manifested in the desire to better themselves through speech, dress, interests, education and lifestyle, which they feel offers them a sense of worth. The women used the language of class to refer to a way of being rather than as an analytical concept. To overcome the negative image of British-Pakistanis, they selected those identities that earned them respectability and credibility among those from whom they sought recognition. Respectability meant status (cultural and social capital) and honour. They confronted the negative image of their cultural and religious identity in every realm of their life, through their interpretation of Islam, their definition of British identity, and their performance of ethnic identity, values, goals, interests and friendships. Therefore, while middle class as a social status required achievements that were recognised across ethnic and national borders, such as education, professional and economic standing, and consumption power (Devine 2004; Perrier 2012), its actual performance was very much rooted in social fields that involved specific groups of family and peers who approved of and gave credit to the women’s achievements. At the same time, while striving for class recognition, which they knew was circumscribed within these fields, the women ultimately wanted to create a good impression of British Pakistanis and British Muslims that went beyond their immediate social group. Attaining capital, status and a middle-class

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standing was not only important to their own positioning within their group, but also to their belonging to Britain as British-Pakistanis.

Prejudice One of the reasons why research into middle-class British-Pakistani women captured my interest was how they grappled with the notion of belonging. Like other non-white ethnic minorities, their skin colour was a marker of difference, but also being Muslim made them susceptible to religious prejudice and, based on actual evidence, they did not always feel accepted in Britain. Kundani (2007) notes that acceptance in Britain can be challenging for Muslims because being Muslim has become a symbol of difference, the antithesis of ‘whiteness’ or ‘Britishness’ (cited in Ahmad and Evergeti 2010: 1698). Likewise, the women were mindful of the fact that in public their skin colour and religious and cultural differences were disparities which overshadowed the similarities they shared with white British people such as socio-economic status, nationality and other interests. I discuss the experiences of prejudice and impact of Islamophobia on the women in greater detail in the following chapter.2 There have been a number of contributory factors resulting in increasing prejudice towards Muslims in Britain and in the West. First and foremost, some newspapers have played a significant role in inciting hatred towards Muslims by inculcating negative images and stereotypes of Muslims and British-Pakistanis in the minds of their readers. The marginalisation of British Muslims, particularly British Asian Muslims, was present long before the events of 9/11. While many British Asian Muslims were targets of racism and cultural and religious prejudice, those who were working-class also endured further prejudice as a result of their socioeconomic position. The Labour Force Survey, compiled during the 1980s, showed higher rates of unemployment among British-Pakistanis and British-Bangladeshis (Modood 2010: 14). This survey also showed that British-Pakistanis and British-Bangladeshis held the lowest level of education qualifications (Modood 2010: 14). This clearly shows that this minority group was already on the margins of society before the events of 9/11. Song (2004) argues that these socioeconomic issues, juxtaposed with the events of 9/11 and its aftermath, have earned British Asian Muslims a poor reputation.3 Several studies of British Asians have highlighted the negative reputation of British Asians who are Muslim. Maxwell (2006: 738), in his

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study of British Asian Muslims, describes how Bangladeshi and Pakistani immigrants who arrived in Britain during the 1950s had lower levels of education in comparison to those from the Caribbean and Indians who had settled in Britain a little earlier. Maxwell (2006: 737) discusses studies by Nanton (1999) and Heath and McMahan (2005) of migrants who came to Britain during the 1950s from former British colonies. Nanton (1999) states that people from the Caribbean generally struggled less with social integration because their faith and language meant that they were familiar with British culture, as they shared the language and religion of most white British people (cited in Maxwell 2006: 737). Heath and McMahan (2005) note that Bangladeshi and Pakistani immigrants remain the poorest minority group in Britain, whereas Indian immigrants achieved economic success because they were generally well educated and highly skilled before arriving in Britain (cited in Maxwell 2006: 737). Thus, it is not surprising that some British-Indians distance themselves from British-Pakistanis, as is highlighted in Raj’s (2003) study of middle-class Hindu Punjabis in Britain. This study shows that BritishPakistanis are looked down upon and branded as ‘bad migrants’ and ‘Muslim Others’ with whom middle-class Hindu Punjabis share nothing in common (Raj 2003: 61). Prejudice also stems from cultural differences, and scholars point out that many Muslim Asians are vulnerable to cultural racism because they are seen to be detached from mainstream society through dress, lifestyle, and cultural and religious practices (Song 2004: 865; Hussain and Bagguley 2013: 4). Hirsch (2019) argues that whitewashing one’s cultural identity and heritage as a means of gaining acceptance increases feelings of exclusion and marginalisation. The assimilationist view of expecting minorities to adopt the culture of the majority (which they think is superior) is in itself a racist opinion (Hirsch 2019). The fact that integration and assimilation had been an easier process for other ethnic minority groups has meant that Islam is seen as incompatible with British lifestyle and is another reason why Muslims in Britain face such hostility. Werbner (2004: 906) states that studies show that nonMuslim Asians have successfully integrated into the host society because they have espoused secularism and popular British culture such as drinking and clubbing, whereas many British Muslim Pakistani religious leaders harbour anti-Western sentiment and see British youth culture as hedonistic, immoral and incompatible with Muslims values. Many of these leaders have an influence over British Muslim youth who follow the

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trajectory of a literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures (Werbner 2004: 898). Prejudice and negative images affect the ways in which BritishPakistanis see themselves and develop a sense of belonging. Therefore, many British-Pakistanis have embraced a Muslim identity and prefer to socialise and identify with other British-Pakistanis and British Muslims. Belonging for them takes place through sameness and acceptance, and therefore embracing a British Muslim identity or socialising with other British-Pakistanis gives them recognition and earns them respect for their values, lifestyle, cultural and religious similarity and interests. In my study, the women lived within an intersection of different identities. In the section below I describe briefly how agency relates to the intersecting of a range of different identities.

Intersecting Identities The women ascribed importance to those aspects of their identity that were recognised as positive among the people with whom they interacted. They did not identify solely with their parents’ cultural tradition. They were grappling with values and identities which they had to navigate through, often finding themselves in different positions and ascribing to values and identities that were at times contradictory and opposing. They were trying to make sense for themselves of the ways of being which would grant them the most capital and power. Through the intersection of different identities, they were defining what it means to be a modern, middle-class British-Pakistani woman, an identity which earned them respectability and credibility. Similarly, Tyler (2011) in her study on class and ethnicity, notes the necessity of cultural and social capital in order to become respectable. The concepts of ‘capital’ and ‘social field’ that Bourdieu (1984) developed have helped me to analyse the complex ways in which the women dealt with challenges and competition, and shift between the many categories of identification that have been ascribed to them. Inscribing value to these categories was a form of empowerment for the women, enabling them to carve a favourable position for themselves within specific social fields. The women had agency to take categories applicable to them such as British, Pakistani, female, Muslim, or middle class, and to mobilise them into useful resources that would help them to create a valuable sense of themselves in competition with others. They achieved this by intersecting specific identities that not only earned them prestige and power, but also

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enabled them to identify with others with whom they wanted to belong. Thus, among the women, belonging implied the incorporation of identities based on ethnicity, religion, gender, class and generation in terms of migration. For example, generation in terms of migration determined belonging. Second-generation British-Pakistanis were socialised into a British way of life from a young age through school and this familiarity, interests, life experiences, and friends and family made them feel rooted and to have a sense of belonging in Britain. Weeks (1990: 88) notes that identity is about belonging: it underpins the differences as well as the commonalities that we share with others, offering a sense of personal location within a social, political, and cultural situation. Similarly, Parekh, in his work on multiculturalism, also points out that identity is about belonging and that belonging functions as a network of close relations and a support system, stemming from shared beliefs and interests (2006: 24). I argue that these shared values and beliefs were neither timeless nor fixed. More importantly, the women were in fact demonstrating the intersection of multiple identities and that being British, Muslim and Pakistani were not monolithic identities, but were contextual depending on the circumstances. Thus, different combinations of intersecting identities could be as broad or narrow as the women wished within the boundaries they constructed and those with which they had to manage. Therefore race, ethnicity, class, gender and religion were categories used to establish sameness and difference, and the connections between these categories were lived in complex ways. Racial and ethnic identities are partial, fragmented and contextual (Wade 2010: 13). It is crucial to take into account other factors of identity-making and how they impinge on the categories of race and ethnicity because classifications such as ‘black’ and ‘white’ are limiting if other factors have not been accounted for, such as gender, sexuality, age, class and wealth. According to Wade (2010: 12), the study of race is embedded in history, traced back to European colonialists who exploited phenotypical differences to highlight hierarchies that had no empirical or scientific evidence. Many biologists, geneticists and physical anthropologists today argue that, biologically speaking, race does not exist, making the notion of race nothing more than an idea (Wade 2010: 13), albeit an idea that has very material effects on people’s lives and social relationships. Even though race has no biological basis, facial features, skin colour and hair type have been and are still

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used to create racial distinctions that are understood as being transmitted ‘by blood’ through generations (Wade 2010: 14). Wade discusses how the term ‘ethnicity’ became more popular through its use in academic discourse. Ethnicity is derived from the Greek word ethnos meaning people or nation and has generally been applied to groups of people seen as minorities residing within larger national states. Porqueres i Gene (2007) highlights that ethnicity is about cultural geography, where the culture of a place is absorbed from those of previous generations who migrated from their homeland (cited in Wade 2010: 20). Therefore, as social constructs that refer to time (origin) and place, which is the way in which I understand both race and ethnicity here, these categories can be deployed by different people in different ways in various contexts. At times they will seem fixed and essential, especially when asymmetrically imposed on a specific group by those with more influence or who are in a position of power. Race and ethnicity can then enter the realm of hegemonic discourses, such as those encouraging Islamophobia. For instance, Kyriakides et al.4 use the concept of ‘ethnically fixed’, which refers to something that is created through the stigma of otherness. This means that religious practices ascribe people to an ethnic group which is then perceived to become their absolute identity (2009: 292). Werbner (1997: 228) refers to this as ‘essentialism’—the act of ascribing an identity or specific quality onto others, either a person or a group such as religious, ethnic or social groups. It creates the illusion that this ascribed identity is fixed, absolute and impervious to change. For example, the women in my study were ascribed a Pakistani identity by those who held fixed ideas about British-Pakistanis stemming from negative stereotypes often typified in the British media. ‘Asian’ denoted a more encompassing identity to include non-Pakistani Asian Muslims and non-Muslim Asians with whom they shared a similar cultural heritage. At other times people can mobilise race and ethnicity, while intersecting them with other identity categories, for their own use in everyday encounters. This book illustrates how the women have engaged in this process, while having to deal with hegemonic ideas of British-Pakistani Muslims circulating, especially, in the media. Therefore, the notion of agency is salient in my study. I use agency in a similar vein as Mahmood (2011), who has written extensively on the subject of agency, particularly from the viewpoint and understanding of women from the Middle East. In her study of Islamic revivalism in Egypt, Mahmood (2011: 6) argued for the need to look beyond the notion of submission and patriarchy

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to grasp the understanding of agency and gender in non-Western societies. The portrayal of Arab and Muslim women is often reduced to one of passiveness and submission, and those scholars who have done extensive work in this field highlight how Arab and Muslim women are active agents who do have a voice (Mahmood 2011: 6). According to Mahmood (2011: 8), agency is the ability to recognise women’s own interests against the pressure of religious and cultural influences. The women in my study were empowered through their education, skills and achievements, and had agency to make decisions and to lead the life they desired. Agency also allowed the women to select the identities that had a motive, agenda or positive recognition. The intersection of gender and socio-economic mobility enabled the women to access the agency to challenge stereotypes, acquire capital, and achieve their goal of being a positive representation of their faith and ethnic background. Juxtaposed with race, ethnicity, religion and class, gender plays a significant role in identity. Gender identity was prominent not only in the domestic sphere but was also very much enmeshed in class identity and the public image of themselves that the women wanted to portray. Mahmood described agency as containing two types of freedom: negative and positive. According to her description, negative freedom is the absence of barriers to choices, whereas positive freedom indicates the presence of certain obstacles in the way of choices, such as religious and cultural constraints. Positive freedom would then be the ability to manoeuver around these obstacles to make choices that serve one’s self interest (Mahmood 2011: 11). In my study, I understand agency as the ability to choose different possibilities that work to the advantage of the women within the various constraints and contexts in which they compete for status and/or autonomy, which is akin to Mahmood’s notion of positive freedom. Thus, the women had agency to espouse identities and cultural expectations that worked to their advantage. At the same time, and whenever possible, they overlooked customs and values, British or Pakistani, which hindered their own sense of themselves. At times this seemed contradictory because they upheld particular principles in certain contexts and on certain occasions, which at other times they chose to ignore. However, this juggling made sense to them. An example of positive freedom was the ability to exploit religious and cultural values that worked in their favour and earned them capital, recognition and power within their families and among their friends, while maintaining a sense of independence as professional women. Some women felt empowered

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through religious practices, such as learning more about their faith or by the way the dressed, such as wearing a headscarf or abaya.5 Sharing religious knowledge with their friends and family earned these women status and respect: they could celebrate their faith and earn respect for their religious knowledge and observance. The important aspect here is that they were choosing to take on these roles with a good dose of critical self-awareness, rather than simply blindly surrendering themselves to prescribed patriarchal customs. Positive freedom added an element of challenge, because specific cultural expectations had to be fulfilled in order to achieve the status that the women strived for. Consequently, autonomy may be understood as the ability to ‘select’ one’s desire regardless of how illiberal such desires may seem (Mahmood 2011: 12). For example, the idea of being a ‘dutiful’ daughter-in-law and compliance to in-laws may seem oppressive to those who are not familiar with cultural expectations upheld by some Pakistanis and South Asians. Being a dutiful daughter-in-law was a way of gaining recognition and status. Not only would the women be acknowledged and respected among their in-laws, but they would be an inspiration and set an example to friends and family members, and at the same time make their own parents and husband proud of them. At the same time, the women exploited religious rhetoric to contest aspects of patriarchal culture that they did not benefit from. Agency enabled the women to assert aspects of their cultural, religious and national identity that they found useful: therefore, identities were in a constant state of flux and continuously intersecting to garner capital, status and power. Essentially, it is by playing with these specific gender roles and expectations that the women are empowered to assert themselves as autonomous agents in their family, which is so important to them. According to Foucault (1978, 1980), the definition of agency should not be limited to domination or sovereignty over others but should include a broader definition open to new possibilities (cited in Mahmood 2011: 17). Likewise, in my study, the women did not maintain all customs, values and expectations upheld by the previous generation. They upheld the customs that they valued, and which worked in their interest to empower them to maximise their status. The women also noticed that some customs and cultural conventions they regarded as important were being discarded by second-generation British-Pakistani women who were younger than them, because they sought alternative means of gaining capital and recognition. With each generation, expectations

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and values were changing, and women were seeking alternative ways to secure status and power. The interests and values of the women were different from those of first-generation Pakistanis and second-generation British-Pakistanis who were much younger. Therefore, age and migrantgeneration are equally as influential as gender, religion, ethnicity and class in maximising capital and status in order to belong. Among the women, there was very much an intersection of gender and class at play. Bourdieu highlighted the correlation between class and aesthetics, stating that confidence in appearance increases with social hierarchy: speech, deportment, mannerisms, posture and aesthetics such as makeup, clothing style, body shape and hairstyle were signifiers of social class (1984: 204). Bourdieu also describes eating habits as a signifier of class and that healthy, nutritious food choices were important among the middle class in France (1984: 188). Similarly, the women also selected foods that were wholesome, nutritious, and not laden with calories. A specific sense of femininity that was outwardly expressed was important among the women. They invested greatly in their appearance, not only in their clothes and accessories, but also in integrating a fitness and beauty regime into their busy schedule. The women selected gender roles that appealed to them. For instance, some of the traditional gender roles such as women being in charge of the domestic sphere worked in their favour, because having a privileged middle-class status meant that they could afford to take a career break and rely on their husband’s income yet still maintain a desired lifestyle. The women were not the main breadwinners in their families, and thus did not have to contribute much of their earnings towards living expenses. What the women earned was their own and they relied on their husband’s income to pay for their living expenses and lifestyle. The women had achieved their career goals before having children. The fact that they had a profession was still an important facet of their identity, and an achievement of which they were proud. Once their children were older and more independent, they planned to resume their professional lives. In the meantime, they devoted time to their families and enjoyed a career break or part-time work. This also allowed them to engage in other pursuits which would earn them capital within their social and family circles, such as increasing their religious knowledge, acquiring new skills and interests, participating in charity work, and intensifying their presence in the family. Typically, the women had agency to select particular identities that would earn them recognition at that specific moment. The value of

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certain identities was contextual and dependent on social situations. Werbner (2013), in her study of multiculturalism and intersection of identities among British-Pakistanis, looks at the contrast in the experiences and identities of first-generation Pakistanis and second-generation British-Pakistanis. Werbner asserts that Pakistani migrants hold three distinct identities: religious, South Asian and Pakistani. At times these three identities intersect and at other times they are separate. ‘South Asian’ encompasses aesthetics of fun, such as music and dance, whereas a Pakistani identity upholds loyalty to family, community and ancestral home, and a religious identity promotes an idealistic view of moral order (Werbner 2013: 410). This is precisely what I observed at the social and religious events I attended during my time in the field.

Theoretical Underpinnings In the section above, I demonstrated the salience of intersected identities for amassing power and recognition. Having discussed the dynamics of the intersecting of different identities for the women with whom I worked, it is important to look next at the relationship between capital (social and cultural) and identity. This is fundamental to my study because the women have a very strong and conscious notion of the effects of racial, religious and class-based identities in their own lives and to who they are. The ideas of ‘capital’ and ‘social field’ that Bourdieu (1984) developed have helped me to analyse the complex ways in which the women in my study try to make the most out of the demands in their lives, and juggle between the many categories of identification that have been ascribed to them. Inscribing value to these categories was a form of empowerment for the women, enabling them to carve a favourable position for themselves within specific social fields. Social identity theories and scholars (Ahmed 2005; Barth 1969; Choudhry 2010; Hall 1996) have highlighted that identities are contextual, and that the performance of particular identities has the purpose of manifesting positive recognition. Parekh describes how a sense of identity, self-respect and self-esteem are constructed within social relationships and therefore validated by others, and this is a reason why encounters of prejudice and marginalisation ebb one’s self-esteem (2008: 24, 50). Therefore, identity is about social relations, the values we share with others and our interactions with others, which offers us a sense of personal location and belonging (Weeks 1990: 88–89). It is precisely

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these values that, as I demonstrate through my research, garner capital among the women I observed. Throughout this book, I use Bourdieu’s understanding of capital as ‘accumulated labour in its materialised or embodied form’ (1986: 46) to explain the ways in which certain practices, objects, performances, relationship, are imbued with positive values that create a sense of self-worth. According to Bourdieu, culture and social relationships are a form of capital pivotal to class relationships (Bennet et al. 2009: 2). Capital is gained at the expense of those who do not possess it (Bourdieu 1984: 11): therefore, of those who do not belong. Among the women, social capital was achieved between those who shared the same values, expectations and interests. The value of capital that one possesses rests on the existence of a field, which Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992: 98) define as a place of play where conflict, competition and collaboration occur. The influence of capital is most effective within a social field because it is a space where capital can be exploited as a weapon, as something that people strive for. Among the women, their family and British Muslims, both Pakistani and non-Pakistani friends became competitors in the social field through which social capital and other forms of capital could produce its effects. Strictly speaking, social fields for the women included the institutions in which they participated such as the mosque, the workplace, and their children’s school where they participated in school fairs and other events. Furthermore, in the case of the women I was observing in social situations such as dinner parties, social gatherings and other social events, these served as arenas of competition and functioned in a similar way to a social field as described by Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992: 98–108). According to Goffman (1959: 44–45), within a social situation, groups or individuals put on a performance in front of others who become the audience: the situation becomes an arena where interaction occurs. This performance that takes place within a social situation generates competitiveness that adds to the notion of the field. This was precisely akin to what I was observing at dinner parties and other social events that I attended during my fieldwork. This is not to say that the women in my study were accomplished in every domain. In social situations, among friends and acquaintances, it was not expected of them to master all skills and possess all attributes that earned recognition among middle-class British-Pakistani women. They did not achieve success in every aspect of their social life—this would be an unrealistic expectation. There were

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multiple ways of acquiring capital, which I give examples of below. Therefore, women were interested in social situations where their strengths and expertise granted them status and acknowledgment. Taking the example of a daughter-in-law, the women were fulfilling the expectations of their in-laws of how to be a dutiful daughter-in-law. This worked to their advantage because the better they performed, the more autonomy they gained to control their own lives. Identities and values were contextual and constructed for the purpose of amassing capital, therefore the boundaries were redefined depending on their relative positions within the social field. On some occasions, the private and public domain overlapped, for example when women competed with friends as well as family members regarding parenting skills. Having well-mannered, disciplined children who not only excelled academically but also had a strong religious and cultural upbringing was a reflection on the mother’s parenting skills, and these skills earned them prestige not only among family members but also among friends. In many ways, what I was observing was akin to Barth’s study on ethnic groups and boundaries, as the women in my study were establishing collective values in the same way as Barth (1969): 14 describes the use of collective identities. Acceptance among family and within a social group was salient for the women. Therefore, as a strategy to elevate their esteem and gain recognition in some situations and among known audiences, they exploited the idea of collective values. Among family such as parents, siblings, in-laws and other relatives, they established this through shared cultural, social and moral values. Barth (1969: 14) worked with the idea of collective identities such as language, lifestyle, dress code, and the social and moral values that people use to categorise themselves. The women were exploiting collective values and expectations in their roles as mother, wife, daughter, sister, aunt and in-law to garner capital and recognition. Barth states that the boundaries between ethnic groups are constructed in the interaction between people who see themselves as different from others, and these boundaries modify over time (1969: 14). Barth’s concept of ethnic groups and their porous boundaries is extremely useful for the investigation of how people negotiate the criteria of their social identities contextually and in their interactions with others. Ethnic groups are not bounded homogeneous social units: ‘ethnic group’ is a concept that serves a purpose. It is essential to note that boundaries make it possible to create ethnic distinctions while still maintaining inter-ethnic

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social interaction, allowing the flow of people and information across these boundaries (Barth 1969: 9). The women were constantly revising and re-negotiating their roles and expectations, which were in a state of flux: fluid and contextual. Furthermore, the study of transnationalism within migration studies also pinpoints the salience of inter-ethnic social relationships, challenging the common idea in sociological studies of ethnic groups as real bounded units of analysis (Glick Schiller et al. 2006: 613). As mentioned above, ethnic groups are not intrinsically bounded: therefore, it is important not to impose boundaries on a group of people we study or on categories such as class, race and ethnicity. Instead, it is critical to observe how people themselves exploit these different identities such as religion, ethnicity, gender and class for sameness and difference to create boundaries, to distinguish themselves, and to carve out a social space for themselves within a society (Glick Schiller 2008: 9). The chapters in this book illustrate the diversity among BritishPakistanis women, showing that there are other identities important to them, besides religious and ethnic, which garner them status, empowerment and belonging in multiple ways. Taking Glick Schiller et al.’s (2006) criticism of the use of ethnic groups as an analytical tool and as a unit of analysis, in this book I will discuss how middle-class secondgeneration British-Pakistani women negotiate the porous boundaries of their multiple intersecting identities within competitive social fields, by playing with the resources they have at hand and transforming them into capital that they will use to strengthen their position in relation to each other and to wider society. It is in these daily negotiations that women develop a sense of belonging as British-Pakistani in the current political context of the UK.

Notes 1. I am not implying that these women are accomplished in every aspect of their lives. Nor are they a homogenous group, all sharing the same ambitions and interests. What the women do have in common are their overlapping interests and performances of multifaceted identities. Throughout this book, I explain the importance of social context which is why at times some of the values and identities the women espouse are contradictory or in flux. Furthermore, minority status (ethnic and religious) and similar upbringing is the reason why the women share much in common. Chapter 4 (on mothers and daughters) gives insight into why the women are so driven and why certain values are important to them.

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2.

3. 4. 5.

Some women were recognised for their style and others for their culinary and hosting skills. Some women were proud of what they had achieved in their career, and others recognised for instilling cultural and religious knowledge in their children or for being focussed on their children being academically driven. This idea of recognition was mostly a public performance to garner capital and status. Although the women did not share identical values, among friends what mattered was the overlapping of interests, values and experiences. There were women who genuinely did not want to be part of such social networks and preferred to socialise with a few close friends in order to avoid such competitiveness or for the sake of keeping up appearances, and more importantly to live by the values and expectations that they wanted to. López (2011: 556), in his paper on the definition of Islamophobia, notes that according to Allen (2006) the term ‘Islamophobia’ became common in the late 1980s to describe antipathy towards Muslims and discrimination against Muslims in the West. The Runnymede Trust’s Commission on British Muslims and Islamophobia (CBMI) defines Islamophobia as ‘an unfounded hostility towards Islam, and therefore fear or dislike of all or most Muslims’ (cited in Meer and Modood 2009: 691). The 2017 Runnymede Trust report Islamophobia: Still a Challenge for Us All, updated their original definition of Islamophobia: ‘to ‘anti-Muslim discrimination or racism’ (Elahi and Khan 2017: 7). ‘Asian’ is sometimes used instead of ‘Pakistani’ to specify all Muslims of South Asian descent, including Indians and Bangladeshis. Kyriakides et al. (2009) study on the relationship between racism and nationalism. An abaya is a long loose cloak worn over garments (Ahmad 2008).

References Ahmed, N. (2005). Women in between: The case of Bangladeshi women living in London. In M. Thapan (Ed.), Transnational migration and the politics of identity (pp. 99–129). New Delhi: Sage. Ahmad, S. (2008). Identity matters, culture wars: An account of Al-Huda (re)defining identity and reconfiguring culture in Pakistan. Culture and Religion: an Interdisciplinary Journal, 9(1), 63–80. Ahmad, W., & Evergeti, V. (2010). The making and representation of Muslim identity in Britain: Conversations with British Muslim ‘elites’. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 33(10), 1697–1717. Allen, C. (2006). Islamophobia: Contested concept in the public space (PhD Dissertation). Department of Theology, University of Birmingham, Birmingham.

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CHAPTER 3

The Experiences of a British-Pakistani Muslim

Among the women, being British-Pakistani and Muslim were facets of their many identities, and other positions they identified with (gender, class, professional or kinship related) equally influenced their sense of belonging in Britain. The women had common interests, a middle-class lifestyle, and shared similar experiences with each other such as having been to university, establishing a career, or juggling a work-life balance that identified them with other non-Muslim and non-Pakistani middleclass British people. They also shared similar experiences with other British minorities and had overlapping cultural heritage with British Hindus and Sikhs. This underscored their ability to harvest from a vast array of social positions to create sense of belonging in multiple ways, depending on the identities and interests they chose to assert at any specific moment (Weeks 1990: 88–89). However, being Muslim, British and Pakistani at times also included experiences of prejudice and marginalisation, such as coping with negative stereotypes of Pakistanis and Muslims. In this climate of heightened media prejudice, the women had to prove that they were worthy of their status, not just as middle-class women, but as British-Pakistani Muslims who deserved recognition for upholding British values. Family, British-Pakistani and British Muslim friends were pivotal in their lives in terms of belonging and acceptance—manifested through the recognition of sameness, such as shared experiences of minority status, upbringing and values. This was not an act © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_3

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of self-segregation but an outcome of feeling marginalised. The women were aware of being judged for their cultural and religious differences, which overshadowed what they felt that they shared or had in common with white British people. This chapter deals with the effects of prejudice and discrimination in their everyday lives and questions the compatibility of middle-class, British, Pakistani and Muslim identities and whether there is a tension that arises between these categories.

Acceptance and Belonging To the women, belonging meant an acceptance of their being BritishPakistani Muslim. They did not want to always have their guard up, being aware of scathing looks in the streets from passers-by because of the assumption that they are Muslim, due to their skin colour or the way they dress. It was upsetting for them to know that their children were frequently the targets of Islamophobia at school when other children make cruel jibes about Muslims, undermining them or excluding them due to their faith. Belonging, for the women, was about sharing common lived experiences and interests with others, feelings of familiarity and, most importantly, having people whom they felt close to. They established belonging through their family, friends, social networks, class position and institutions such as the mosque, the workplace and their children’s school. Many scholars define belonging as a need to feel close to and be accepted by others (Jaspal and Cinnirella 2013: 159). Weeks (1990: 88– 89) and Parekh (2006: 24) both note that belonging and identity are intertwined. Identities are about belonging to a collectivity, a place, a memory or hopes for the future. Yuval-Davis states that belonging is an emotional attachment: about ‘feeling at home’, and about the inclusion and exclusion of people, social categories and groups (2011: 10). Similarly, Weeks (1990: 88–89) states that the social relations we have, and our social interaction with others, impact on our sense of belonging and identity. Even though most of the women considered Britain to be their home, common experiences of discrimination and exposure to biased news in the media challenged their sense of ‘Britishness’. The impact of prejudice, and the ways in which the women attempted to overcome this and to establish a sense of belonging, are the overriding themes in this chapter. Distinguishing the different forms of discrimination faced by a

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lot of the women was not always clear-cut, as it could involve skin colour and other phenotypical features that were identified with race, as well as their cultural background and migration status. In addition to this, they were also subject to hostility due to their religious values and practices. I was interested in finding out how they managed to establish a sense of belonging in Britain, and more specifically in Manchester, and to create a positive self-image amidst growing enmity towards a wide spectrum of people who are lumped together under an essentialising and stereotypical umbrella-category of ‘Muslims’. A number of studies focus on the importance of belonging among ethnic minority groups who have been marginalised (Ryan 2011; Walton and Cohen 2007; and Ysseldyk et al. 2010). Howarth (2006) explains that collective belonging offers support, security and strength, and is often a response to stigmatisation (Ryan 2011: 1051). A commonly held belief system is essential for health and well-being because belonging to a group endorsing common beliefs and values bolsters the self-esteem of its members (Ysseldyk et al. 2010: 61).1 Feelings of social connectedness and support are necessary for mental and physical well-being, and members of socially stigmatised groups have greater awareness and desire for social belonging (Walton and Cohen 2007: 82).2 Thus, it is not surprising that forging close bonds with family and other British-Pakistanis and Muslims was important to the women. The significance of these relationships and identities are discussed in upcoming chapters. The women felt that Muslims and British-Pakistanis had become a stigmatised group after 9/11.3 Experiences of their everyday life such as at their children’s school, in the workplace, what they heard in the media and read in the newspapers confirmed this (which I come to later in the chapter). For them, this was evidence showing that Muslims are an undesirable minority group in Britain. Field’s research on Islamophobia in the UK noted that such feelings were not unfounded. Field (2007) examined 104 public opinion polls taken between 1988 and 2006, most of which were taken after 2001. Field concluded from these public opinion polls that 77% of the general British public regarded Muslims as ‘fanatical’, nearly 70% believed Islam is ‘a religion stuck in the Middle Ages’, and over 50% viewed Islam as a ‘misogynistic religion’ (Meer and Modood 2009: 349; Field 2007: 453). The public opinion polls also suggested that British Muslims had a reputation for being slow to integrate into mainstream British society. Further, these opinion polls suggested that many British Muslims were perceived as harbouring anti-western sentiment or

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were sympathisers for Islamic extremism (Field 2007: 462). Meer and Modood (2009: 337), in their research on Islamophobia in Britain, also argue that comparative studies by the Pew Global Attitude Project show that one in four British people feel antipathy towards Muslims. These statistics are unsurprising, as certain events in recent times have reinforced a generalised negative public image of Muslims. The Rushdie Affair (1989) earned British-Pakistanis and Muslims notoriety and highlighted the incompatibility of ‘Islamic’ values with ‘Western’ values, bringing Islam into the public domain (Marranci 2007: 821; Field 2007: 488). At the time, Muslims in Bradford engaged in violent protests, burning copies of Salman Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses in the streets, protesting that the novel was blasphemous against the prophet Muhammed. The aftermath of this incident leads to the radicalisation of many young British Muslims, and to Islamophobic rhetoric in some sections of the British media (Field 2007: 488). This was a turning point in the contemporary relationship between Muslims and Christians in Europe. The Affair brought attention to the position of Muslims in Europe, creating an image that Muslims embodied the antithesis of European values, and that their way of life was incompatible with a generic European identity (Rytter and Holm Pedersen 2014: 2309). Alongside the Rushdie Affair, other international events such as the Balkans war, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as the events of 9/11 and 7/7, have had a profound impact on Muslims in Britain. These events have convinced many British-Pakistanis that Muslims are facing persecution worldwide (Shah and Iqbal 2011: 766). Scholars have discussed the pariah status of Muslim migrants living not just in Britain, but also in Europe and in the United States, especially after 9/11. The events of 9/11 and 7/7 again reinforced the dichotomy between ‘British’ and ‘Muslim’, pushing British Muslims to the margins by questioning their loyalty to Britain and insinuating that they could not be both British and Muslim at the same time (Marranci 2007: 822–823). I argue that this marginalisation of Muslims exacerbates fear, ignorance and misunderstanding between Muslims and wider society. Experiences of everyday racism and challenging negative stereotypes of Muslims and Pakistanis in the media seemed to be a common experience among the women. Muslims and Pakistanis in Britain developed a negative reputation, and the effects of this were exasperating for the women because of the lack of acknowledgement that the majority of British-Pakistani Muslims are law-abiding citizens who make a positive

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contribution to society. These were distressing times for them, especially when most of the women were born and raised in Britain, and with rising tensions they no longer felt welcome or safe in a country they regarded as home. They believed Islam was now being used as a byword for terrorism. They were also tired of reading the tabloid press and comments on social media sites blaming British-Pakistanis for a lack of integration and stereotyping them as living off state benefits. The women claimed that this stigmatised image of Muslims and British-Pakistanis was far from the truth. This was one reason why the women were happy to participate in my research. It gave them an opportunity not only to air their grievances, but also to share in their own words what being British-Pakistani and Muslim means to them. Just when the women thought that the reputation of Muslims and British-Pakistanis could not sink further, news broke of an unprovoked attack in the name of Islam, on the 22 May 2013. Two British-Nigerian Muslim converts murdered an off-duty British soldier, Lee Rigby, in Woolwich in broad daylight (Dodd and Halliday 2013). The reaction among the women soon after this event was one of shock, horror and disgust. They expressed their anger that a cold-blooded murder had been committed in the name of Islam, and deep sadness for the victim and his family over this brutal killing. In the same year, the women faced another blow with the breaking news that Asian Muslim paedophile gangs in Lancashire and Oxford had been targeting vulnerable underage girls, many of whom lived in children’s homes. In 2013 it was reported that 1400 girls had been abused by Asian Muslim men in Rotherham (Pearson 2014). More than 350 children had been abused by a gang of men of ‘Pakistani and /or Muslim heritage’ men in Oxford (BBC News 2015). With these separate incidents monopolising the headlines, British-Pakistani Muslims were being depicted as degenerate. The women contested that non-Muslims were misguided about Islam, because what they heard in the media or read in the papers often misquoted or misinterpreted extracts from the Quran. They argued that hearsay and misinterpretation of Islam, and the construction of pernicious stereotypes by the media, were engendering enmity towards Muslims in general. The fact that British Muslims were making headline news reinforced the women’s beliefs that there was an agenda against British-Pakistanis and Muslims in the media. Here the women were not only facing discrimination against Muslims in general, but also prejudice towards British-Pakistanis more specifically. This was not unusual: meanings and

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experiences of ethnicity and religion are often intertwined.4 What it means to be a member of a certain ethnic minority group often overlaps with what it means to be a Muslim in the same way that categories such as class, ethnicity, race and gender do not exist in isolation but rely on one another for meaning (Verkuyten and Martinovic 2012: 1166).

Islamophobia and the Role of the Media Islamophobia has become a prominent discourse in the British media. Islamophobia itself is not a recent phenomenon, but one which is steeped in history. Halliday notes that during the time of the Crusades, Islam was the enemy of Christianity, but today it is not Islam itself that is being attacked: Muslims have become the enemy, in particular Muslims who are also immigrants (1999: 898). Prior to the current wave of Islamophobia, Said (1978) coined the term ‘orientalism’ to describe the pervasive negative stereotyping of the East. Orientalism is a western construct that asserts domination and power over the East and Muslims, portraying them as inferior and as ‘Other’ (Abbas 2011: 93). Therefore, the media can only be blamed for reinforcing an already deep-seated and historically entrenched hostility. The main problem here is that different governments have also encouraged such fears, especially with counter-terrorism legislation in the aftermath of 9/11. According to Rytter’s study of Pakistanis in Denmark, in the aftermath of 9/11 Muslims were no longer simply seen as ‘exotic Others’ but as ‘radical Others’, viewed with antipathy and contempt because they posed a threat to the Danish way of life (2013: 2). Meer and Modood affirm that the media has had a hand in peddling Islamophobia, promoting the dichotomy of ‘us’ and ‘them’ and rendering Muslims as the ‘Other’ (2009: 352). A lack of knowledge becomes fertile ground for establishing the ‘Other’, which relies on creating negative stereotypes (Malik 2013: 498). In the aftermath of terror attacks, this assumed distinction and difference creates pernicious stereotypes of Muslims, ultimately viewing them as a danger and a threat. Therefore, this is seen as justifying Islamophobic attacks since all Muslims are held liable for terror attacks (Allen 2014: 151). Abbas (2011: 95) also argues that the media is responsible for creating negative stereotypes of Muslims and for propaganda against Islam. This discourse of ‘Othering’, which is widespread in the media, creates binaries allowing for the negative construction of Muslims as primitive, uncivilised and barbaric.

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Within Western hegemony, the East is seen as backward and inferior to the West (Afshar 2008: 414). Sandikci and Ger (2010: 18), in their study of veiling, also highlight orientalism and its rhetoric depicting women as being submissive, oppressed and lacking in agency. Orientalist discourses are still very much present. For example, it is a commonly held belief that British Muslim women are depicted as not being integrated into mainstream society, as being passive and subservient to oppressive and dominant patriarchal family values (Ijaz and Abbas 2010: 313; Joly and Wadia 2017: 32). Meer et al. (2010: 100), in their study of nationhood among British Muslims, point out that the media reinforces a view of Muslims as responsible for their lack of integration. According to the Daily Mail, Muslim difference equates to non-integration. One example of such media portrayal was the Daily Mail ’s headline (21 June 2006), ‘Murdered for loving our values’, for the story of a British-Pakistani woman killed for refusing to marry the man her parents had chosen for her (Pearson 2006). This is a good example of one of the many news articles filled with negative stereotypes and unfounded statements about Pakistanis and Muslims designed to indoctrinate fear, loathing and suspicion into the minds of its readers. Bhimji (2012: 42) contests that this headline was deliberately worded to allude to the incompatibility of British and Asian values, instead of reporting it as a crime.5 Countless newspaper articles depict British Muslim s as being ‘alien Others’ through stories of honour killings and forced marriages making headline news, thus exacerbating the negative focus on Islam (Bolognani and Mellor 2012: 213). British Asian women are represented as victims of their cultural heritage, which does not acknowledge the empowerment of women, and therefore those with agency are seen as espousing British values (Bhimji 2012: 42). This image could not be further from the truth from my observations of British-Pakistani women in the field. This characterisation of Muslim women as being passive victims did not ring true with the women in my study: they had agency that enabled them to contest the negative stereotypes of Muslims and to challenge prejudice (discussed in greater detail later in this chapter). Alongside these authors, I argue that the media have played a significant role in exacerbating suspicion and animosity towards Muslim immigrants. The rhetoric of Islamophobia is contradictory to the values that are conventionally associated with Western liberal democracies, such as freedom of expression, tolerance, pluralism and equality. Authors who have worked with Muslim immigrants in Western countries (Bhimji 2012;

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Field 2011; Ghaffar-Kucher 2012; Meer and Modood 2009; Meer et al. 2010; Ryan 2011; Rytter 2013; Zahedi 2011) argue that it is precisely this relentless bombardment of negative propaganda against Muslims that has created antipathy and fear towards them in the hearts and minds of the general public. Islamophobia creates a skewed image, which becomes the popular image of Muslims in society (Afshar et al. 2006: 119–120). The media reinforces the disparities between Muslims and Western society by creating an ‘us’ and ‘them’ division, which leads to a view of Muslims as a threat, to be treated with suspicion and fear (Abbas 2011: 95). In the war against terror, global media images continue to demonise Muslims and Islam, and the fear of the ‘Other’ is created as a threat to the stability of the nation (Werbner 2005: 6). The interests of the media lie in generating sensational headlines that are attention grabbing. Informants in a number of studies on Islamophobia criticise popular Hollywood movies for demonising Muslims by portraying them as villains (Field 2011; Ghaffar-Kucher 2012; Meer and Modood 2009; Ryan 2011; Zahedi 2011). MPs have exploited the public’s fear of Muslims to gain popularity and power, such as focussing on the ‘war on terror’. This destructive and damning representation of Muslims in the media feeds into a racist discourse based on fear, threat and incompatibility. This new form of racism is different from the old in that it is indirect and implied (Abbas 2011: 105–106). Scholars such as Mirza et al. (2007) point out that prejudice against Muslims is not entirely a consequence of media stereotyping but is also institutionalised. Fundamentally, events such as 9/11 exacerbated the antipathy towards Muslims which was already present (Mythen et al. 2009: 739). Consequently, the women had reason to believe that prejudice against Pakistanis and Muslims in the West was deep-seated, and events making headline news were merely excuses and opportunities for the media to express a general animosity towards Muslims and Pakistanis. Even though the women used the term ‘Islamophobia’ to describe the hostility and negative propaganda against Muslims, they believed it was synonymous with racism. Many scholars on Islamophobia have also pointed this out. Werbner (2005: 6) states that according to Wieviorka (1995) the principles of racism are subordination and exclusion, or inferiorisation and differentiation. I argue that the principles of racism are evident in the Islamophobic rhetoric seen in the press and media. The examples given above show that the media aims to exclude, undermine and differentiate

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Muslims through biased reporting and pernicious stereotypes, to inculcate fear and animosity in the minds of its readers and audience. Werbner (2005: 6) goes on to argue that the message of Othering is one of control and domination through physical, economic, cultural and political means. The only difference is that Islamophobia presents a deceptive and indirect form of racism: it comes across as more acceptable, as less obvious and threatening, compared to straightforward racism. Modood reminds us of the distinction between biological and cultural racism. Biological racism manifests itself as a kind of animosity and unfair treatment of people based on their physical appearance. Cultural racism builds on biological racism, marginalising those who are already subject to biological racism and expecting them to assimilate. Differences in customs, identity, forms of socialisation and upbringing all become bases for discrimination (Modood 1997, 2005). According to Rana, Islam is a religion that is interpreted through cultural practices, arguing that the use of culture is pivotal to race and racism. Consequently, Islamophobia can be characterised as cultural racism, making both kinds of prejudice (Islamophobia and cultural racism) difficult to distinguish and separate. Islamophobia is not only a form of cultural racism, but also a discourse of biological racism (2007: 149), though this may be contested on the grounds that Muslims are not a single racial group but encompass people of different cultural, religious and national backgrounds who speak different languages. Anti-Muslim prejudice espouses the same principles and logic as anti-immigration racism (Rana 2007: 149). Both are founded on the characteristics of ‘foreignness’ and ‘otherness’, since the mere practice of racial profiling in the ‘war on terror’ confirms racism against Muslims, as such a practice requires the ability to define what a Muslim looks like through appearance, as well as cultural markers such as practice, clothing or language. This act of racial profiling racialises religion through claiming the ability to define what Muslims look like from their physical appearance and dress (Rana 2007: 149). More recently, the 2017 Runnymede Trust report Islamophobia: Still a Challenge for Us All updated their original definition of Islamophobia: to ‘anti-Muslim discrimination or racism’ (Elahi and Khan 2017: 7). Their original definition of Islamophobia was ‘dread or hatred of Islam’ (Allen 2010: 15). Elahi and Khan (2017) highlight in the Runnymede Trust report that Islamophobia is a form of racial discrimination because it is based on bigotry and misrepresentation. Also noted in this report is

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the fact that justifying discrimination or inequality based on the cultural practices of ethnic minorities constitutes racism and prejudice. (Elahi and Khan 2017: 7). More importantly, the 2017 publication of the Runnymede Trust report recognises that all forms of racism have a ‘cultural element’, and recently cultural racism has become more widespread than racism based on skin colour (Elahi and Khan 2017: 7). Participants in Mythen et al.’s (2009: 738) study of the impact of Islamophobia on young British-Pakistanis found that as a consequence of the actions of a few Muslim militants or terrorists, all Muslims have been maligned with the same reputation. Evidence suggests that racial prejudice continues to exist, albeit in different guises. For example, research conducted by sociologists and criminologists points out that black and Asian minorities have been treated as ‘Other’ within the criminal justice system and disproportionately subjected to police surveillance (Mythen et al. 2009: 739). In the aftermath of 7/7, the Guardian newspaper reported that people of Asian appearance were five times more likely to be stopped and searched by the police in comparison with white people, and that the stop-and-search of British Asians had risen by 700% (Dodd 2005). Crime statistics show that British Asians are more likely to be victims of serious crime (Mythen et al. 2009: 743). Alongside antiMuslim propaganda in the media, incidents of hate crimes towards British Muslims were also in the news. The Telegraph reported several counterattacks on Muslims and against mosques in Britain in response to the Woolwich attack (Carter 2013). The repercussions of these recent events made the women fear for their own safety and the safety and well-being of their loved ones. They recalled stories that they had read in the newspapers of the revenge attacks, such as graffiti being daubed outside a mosque, verbal attacks on Muslims in the street, and internet chatrooms spewing bile against Muslims. The women believed that there was increasing hostility towards BritishPakistanis and other ethnic minority groups who appeared to be Arab or Asian Muslim in the aftermath of a terror incident or attack. Most of the women I spoke to stated that terrorism was not a new phenomenon exclusive to Islam but was now associated only with Islam. They contested that similar crimes and misdemeanours perpetrated by white Christians did not create public outrage to the same effect. They pointed out that Christianity itself was never maligned during the height of unrest in Northern Ireland and the atrocities committed by the IRA, in the way that Islam was now being vilified for the actions of extremists whose beliefs they did

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not share. The women also mentioned that there were probably a greater number of white paedophile gangs than Pakistani ones, but this would not be reported with the same headlines. These biases confirmed to the women that the sentiments of the general public were racist, and these recent incidents were excuses that legitimised enmity towards Muslims and Pakistanis.

Prejudice Prejudice seemed to be a common occurrence in the lives of the majority of the women. The negative effects of large-scale Islamophobia trickled down to people’s everyday experiences in various situations, which were personally destabilising. The women saw the force of Islamophobia in their children’s schools and at work, making them feel excluded, no matter how hard their efforts to integrate and be part of the work or school community. The prejudice they faced was subtle, but enough to instil in them that they were different, and this difference meant that they did not belong. For instance, many women had told me when picking up their children, the English mothers were polite but not inclusive, showing more warmth and friendliness to other English mothers.6 Laila’s first-hand encounter of discrimination at school included English mothers blanking Asian mothers, while being very friendly with other English mothers.7 The primary reason why Syrah moved her children from their previous primary school to their current one was because of the everyday experience of exclusion faced by herself and her children. Syrah recalled an incident from her children’s previous school where she was snubbed several times by an English mother she passed in the corridor every day. The woman looked down every time to avoid making eye contact with Syrah. It was only when Syrah started to mirror the same apathetic response that the woman began to acknowledge her and attempt to make conversation. Syrah explained that her attitude towards the woman conveyed the message that “Muslims are not inferior, they have self-respect and dignity and will not tolerate second-class treatment”. The fact that the woman started to recognise Syrah was enough evidence for Syrah that perhaps the woman had come to realise that her behaviour had been discriminatory. What grieved Syrah and the other women was that they attributed this more subtle, indirect and hard-topin-down kind of discrimination in perfunctory routine encounters to the fact that it was carried out within the middle class, confirming tension

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between middle-class, British, Pakistani and Muslim identities. It was more often expressed by exclusion from playground activities, not being selected for school sports teams, major parts in school performances, or the lack of invitations to English children’s birthday parties. Syrah’s son told her that it was mostly English children who were selected for school sports teams and chosen for the main parts in school plays. Her children felt excluded in the playground from joining in with English children, and therefore played with non-white British children. They were rarely given invitations by English children to birthday parties or play dates. Syrah believed that these apathetic attitudes encountered by her children at school on a daily basis were damaging to their well-being by impacting their self-esteem, confidence and sense of belonging. Even though Syrah’s children also encountered discrimination from English children at their present school, there were enough children of an ethnic minority background with whom to form friendships. Syrah explained that she was certain that British people would always look at Pakistanis with suspicion because they were Muslim, and because skin colour was an obvious marker of difference. The other women were also aware that they could never assimilate because of visible markers of differences such as skin colour and clothing which made them and their family susceptible to discrimination, and their British identity not being recognised by those who associate Britishness with being white. Raj (2003) argues that these markers of difference were present in the seemingly simple question ‘where are you from?’ which assumed that people were not really from Britain.8 More notably, this question draws attention to the assumption that those asking were stating that those being asked can never be ‘English’. In a similar vein, despite her children being born in England, Syrah believed that the discrimination they suffered at school from other children was ultimately telling them they could not be fully English. Therefore, Syrah would argue that Pakistanis garner more respect and acceptance in their ancestral home. She imagined that many Pakistani migrants would eventually move back to Pakistan if Pakistan became more stable.9 Referring to Pakistan, she said: It’s your country, it’s who you are, and it’s your identity. Here you will always be an outsider, you look different, your values and interests are different. Muslims cannot be blamed for not socialising because people don’t want to speak to you because you are different and there is too

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much of a barrier. Being white you occupy a privileged position of not experiencing prejudice and cannot relate to experiences of prejudice. (May 2013)

What Syrah expressed was a common view among ethnic minorities who feel marginalised, which a number of scholars have also identified. Jasinskaja-Lahti et al. (2009) mention that increased affiliation with national identity is a direct outcome of equal treatment of a minority group, as well as openness and positive attitudes from the majority group (cited in Verkuyten and Martinovic 2012: 1168). For many British-Pakistanis, belonging and affiliation to Britain was eclipsed by Islamophobia and experiences of discrimination (Hussain and Bagguley 2005: 416).10 Consequently, Muslims felt less at home in their country of residence after 9/11 (Karlsen and Nazroo 2013: 693).11 At times, prejudice was more blatant and direct. For example, Farah mentioned that at school an English child approached her son and told him that all Muslims were terrorists. She was disturbed by this unprovoked incident and found it heart-breaking that her eleven-year-old son came home from school and asked his parents, “why do Muslims do bad things?” The way Farah dealt with this was to ensure that her children understood that terror attacks were condemned in Islam. She also wanted to make certain that her children were aware of Islamic values and knowledgeable about their religion, to give them the confidence to deal with further confrontations at school. Farah’s son’s Asian appearance prompted the English boy to assume he was Muslim, and to deploy an accusatory stereotype that associated Farah’s son with terrorism as potential conduct for all Muslims, thus exemplifying the link between racism and Islamophobia. The boy did not know Farah’s son was BritishPakistani specifically. Farah and the other women had told me that at times non-Muslim Indian children were often mistaken as being Muslim or British-Pakistani because the two are difficult to distinguish. The women explained that at times their children did not want incidents of prejudice to be reported to teachers, particularly at high school where their reputation among their peers was paramount. Reporting to teachers would make matters worse, because the perpetrators would either deny such a thing or worse, say it was a joke and label the victim as a telltale. Being called a tell-tale was humiliating, and would result in further bullying and intimidation, which is why parents seldom reported such

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incidents to the school. Laila argued that teachers could not fully comprehend the experience of ethnic minority children because empathy only existed through experience. She explained that teachers brought their experiences to their role, and if they were white, they did not recognise or look out for this form of racial prejudice through bullying. It was even more difficult for teachers to detect if the prejudice was nuanced. The women were clearly concerned for the future of their children in this climate of hostility towards Muslims. Hina shared with me her own fears about the future of Muslims in Britain, and also her experience of prejudice at work. She understood that her own children could be discriminated against later in life in the workplace, and that being Muslim may hold them back from moving forward in their careers. Hina believed that she had reason to have these concerns, as she had faced prejudice at work because she was a British-Pakistani Muslim and was certain such prejudice would only get worse over time. She told me that she was insulted by an inflammatory comment made by a colleague at work, who said that ‘Pakistanis are disgusting’, referring to the Pakistani paedophile gangs reported in the news. To Hina, this statement seemed like a personal attack as she was the only Pakistani and Muslim present. Although she believed that the paedophile gang should be held accountable for their crimes, their actions were not a reflection of Pakistanis in general. Hina was incensed by this sweeping and provocative statement, to which she retorted, ‘I know it’s disgusting, and it shouldn’t happen, but let me assure you it happens in every culture, it’s not just Pakistanis who do it’. Hina was proud of her response and told me, ‘that shut her up because she was really going in there for the kill about Pakistanis’. Most of the people she worked with were respectful towards Hina, and she was convinced it was because they were warier of her response if they were to make inflammatory remarks about her faith or ethnicity: ‘they know if we say anything to her we have to be ready for what she will have to say’. Her attitude towards her colleagues encapsulated how she was a force to be reckoned with and would not take kindly to those passing judgements on her faith or cultural heritage. This relentless animosity towards Muslims and British-Pakistanis made Hina wary of her work colleagues and she felt that she was only able to trust a couple of people at work. Among the women it was crucial to stand up to prejudice and discrimination and to convey a message of zero tolerance. Saying that, this was not always possible, particularly when it concerned their children when they encountered prejudice at school. At times, they were limited

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in what they could do for their children in case intervening made matters worse for their children. Their aim was to shatter negative stereotypes of British-Pakistani and Muslim women by demonstrating that BritishPakistani and Muslim women were assertive, autonomous and intelligent, and deserving of dignity, respect and equality. On one occasion when I met Nadia and Roshan, Nadia explained that she worked as a pharmacist in a predominantly white area and was taken aback by how little the people she worked with knew about British Asians, and the archaic stereotypes of Asians and Muslims they held. Having little or no interaction with Muslims and Asians affirmed their preconceived ideas, stereotypes and assumptions about the lack of integration among British-Pakistanis. For example, people at her workplace did not expect Nadia to converse in English with her children, assuming that she would speak to them in her parent’s vernacular. They were also surprised that she laughed and joked with her husband because of their image of an Asian wife as being ‘quiet and submissive’. Nadia had not encountered such levels of ignorance before, expecting people at her workplace to have some insight and understanding of other cultures as her English friends and neighbours had where she grew up in London. She felt that there was much less exposure to cultural diversity in Manchester in comparison to London, and she believed this was the reason why she experienced prejudice at work. In Nadia’s experience, exposure to diversity led to greater tolerance, owing to the greater understanding of difference. At university, Nadia had many non-Muslim and non-Asian friends, giving her insight into different cultural and religious backgrounds, and was saddened to realise this exposure to diversity which she believed led to tolerance was not the norm. Nadia spent much of her time at work giving advice to people over the phone regarding medication. They were friendly and attentive over the phone, but face-to-face they insisted on seeing the pharmacist. When Nadia explained that she was the pharmacist, they asked to speak to the ‘other one’, the English pharmacist that Nadia job-shared with. She pointed out that this behaviour was more apparent among the elderly customers. It took her a while to eventually gain their confidence and trust. She assumed that this lack of trust among the older generation stemmed from ignorance, their own experience of first-generation Pakistanis or not knowing British-Pakistanis, and also a result of negative propaganda about Muslims and immigrants in the press and media. Nadia standing her ground and serving the customers who preferred to

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be seen by the English pharmacist was her way of conveying the message that she was equally as worthy and as competent as the ‘other’ pharmacist. Nadia’s example also demonstrated how that prejudice could be overcome through familiarity and positive interaction. As time passed, Nadia’s work colleagues realised that she shared more in common with them than they had thought when she first started work. As the customers got to know Nadia, they came to value her opinions and advice. More importantly, the identities (religious and cultural) ascribed to Nadia by work colleagues, and also by some customers, became less significant over time. Similarly, Roshan also recounted how many of her work colleagues had preconceived ideas about Muslim women at the bank where she had done her work placement as an undergraduate. Some were surprised by Roshan’s assertive and vivacious personality, particularly in a maledominated workplace, because they were under the impression that Muslim women wearing the headscarf were oppressed and forbidden to talk to men. They made it known to Roshan that her behaviour did not fit their stereotype of Muslim women, to which her response was to become more assertive and competitive in the workplace in an attempt to challenge the stereotype her work colleagues had of Muslim women. She wanted to gain recognition for her attributes, not for the identities that they ascribed to her. Roshan recalled a racist incident at work. She took a call from a manager of another branch who ranted to her about Pakistani customers, referring to them as ‘Pakis’ and flagrantly stating that all Pakistanis were fraudulent, obviously not knowing that he was talking to a British-Pakistani. While she was perturbed by this unpleasant experience, she felt reassured when the manager in question was reprimanded and had to face disciplinary action. Roshan considered it was essential to report incidents of racism no matter how small, to stamp out prejudice in the workplace. She believed that racist language should not be tolerated, and those who did not report similar incidences were as culpable as those who used it, because ignoring it made such behaviour acceptable. Although the manager of the other branch unwittingly assumed the person on the other line was a non-Pakistani, it exposed the fact he was racist. Incidents like this confirmed to the women that racism was entrenched and institutionalised. They claimed that in private the use of racist language was prevalent, whereas in public, racism was expressed through Islamophobia. While prejudice seemed to be a common experience for the women, they refused to be marginalised because Britain was their home, the place

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where they belonged, as well as their national identity. Miller (2000) defines national identity as encompassing common history, language and culture (cited in Vasta 2013: 201), which resonated with the definition used by the women. Mastering the language, accent and mannerisms are ways in which people validate inclusion and belonging to a certain place (Kyriakides et al. 2009: 301). Being British, the women felt that they had the same right to belong as white British people. For most of the women, it was where they had been born and raised: a place of familiarity and attachment. Other studies corroborate with what I found in my research, for instance in Hussain and Bagguley’s study of British-Pakistanis, informants felt British because they were socialised in what they regarded as the dominant British culture from school from their peers and teachers, and in their preferences, such as traditional British food like fish and chips and the way they spoke, speaking English with a local accent (2013: 34). Werbner (2013: 407) also notes that second-generation migrants in Britain have been socialised by school and peers into a British way of life, enabling them to read and understand nuances such as the ability to respond correctly to gestures and facial expressions. Werbner refers to this ability to read and respond appropriately to these expressions as ‘everyday multiculturalism’, at which second-generation migrants are more adept, in comparison to the first generation (2013: 407). Language has given second-generation British-Pakistanis access to British identity and insight into social institutions that their parents lacked (Hussain and Bagguley 2005: 418). Furthermore, middle-class status offered the women cultural and social capital, which empowered them to challenge prejudice and discrimination.12 Cultural competence and socio-economic status enabled the women to become a positive representation of Islam through social interaction with non-Muslims at their children’s school, workplace and neighbourhood, and by making a positive contribution to society through fundraising. They believed that this way they would create a positive awareness about Islam, to counter-act media propaganda. However, this same nuanced ability to use the language, to assert their social and economic status and claim cultural competence was challenged in other ways, making the whole process of belonging in Britain more complicated. Farah, for instance, made it clear that dating and alcohol were aspects of British culture that were not compatible with Muslim and Pakistani culture, and these differences in values were making it difficult for British Muslim children to fit in and be accepted. For many

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young Muslims the choices they make, such as abstaining from alcohol, are governed by their faith (Mirza et al. 2007: 45). Modood (1997: 167) acknowledges that cultural differences can be the basis of unwitting discrimination and it is not surprising that many British Muslims who abstain from alcohol are susceptible to exclusion from everyday social occasions. For example, Muslims face exclusion in sports dominated by drinking culture. Fletcher and Spracklen (2013: 1) point out that alcohol plays a central role in socialisation in British culture and in sport and is a part of masculine identity.13 Drinking after a match is a key ritual and an inherent social practice for bonding, socialising and celebrating, and is a symbol of bringing people together (Fletcher and Spracklen 2013: 3). Most of the women also found that abstaining from alcohol held them back from forming close friendships with English people because drinking was integral to British culture. The question was not only about whether the women identified as British, but whether they were accepted as being British, especially by white Britons. This chapter reveals that prejudice was part of their everyday experience of being British-Pakistani Muslim. More importantly, the examples given demonstrate how Islamophobia is a façade for blatant racism: the intolerance of both racial and cultural difference. The women have responded to this by demonstrating that they have equal rights, and dignity, and cannot be brushed away by a parent or teacher at school, or a colleague or a customer at work. These experiences were the impetus for the women to create a better understanding of British-Pakistanis and Muslims, which I discuss below.

Shattering Negative Stereotypes The women routinely tried to break down barriers in an effort to tackle discrimination. They often used the expression ‘breaking down barriers’ to mean their conscious attempts to shatter negative stereotypes about Pakistanis and Muslims, and to show non-Pakistanis and non-Muslims that they shared common interests and concerns, and what united them was far greater than what divided them. The women were, in their own ways, confronting misconceptions about British-Pakistanis and Muslims to overcome prejudice. For Syrah and the others, it was a matter of building bridges through small talk, which would eventually lead to more meaningful conversations that could break down barriers. Syrah realised

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that both the English women and British-Pakistani women at her children’s school were reticent about making the first move because of the presumption that neither would be forthcoming nor interested in the other. In an attempt to become more inclusive of others, Syrah started to make a greater effort to talk to the English mothers at school and noticed that they were friendly in return and now smiled as a gesture of acknowledgement when they made eye contact. The unpleasant experience of her children’s previous school did not prevent her from making efforts with English parents at her children’s present school. Much to Syrah’s surprise, some of the English mothers that she thought were ‘snooty’ turned out to be very friendly once she got talking to them. This is what they meant by ‘breaking down barriers’: making the first move to establish some sort of friendly gesture, however small, that could lead to better mutual understanding. If you make an effort and smile at them and talk to them they will smile back and talk and be friendly”… “it is probably ‘us’ [Muslims/ BritishPakistanis] who feel like that [unapproachable] because of the fear of rejection which holds us back and they don’t know how to deal with us. (May 2013)

It made Syrah realise the need for Muslims to make an extra effort with English people to shatter negative stereotypes of Muslims reinforced by the media. She overcame her fear of rejection by going out of her way at her children’s school to engage in small talk with other women. Initially, Syrah believed the best response was to mirror the attitudes of women who were unfriendly towards her. It later dawned on her that it would be in her best interest to be open to dialogue with non-Muslims to dispel any misconceptions they had about Muslims. She explained, You can’t blame non-Muslims for having negative stereotypes about Muslims from what they read in the papers and see in the media. Newspapers run stories daily about Muslims, portraying them in a bad light, and a lot of middle-class people read these papers. (May 2013)

After hearing a comment made by another mother that women in headscarves at school sticking together was ‘an ugly sight’, Syrah was determined to change the perception of Muslim women wearing headscarves by demonstrating that Muslim women were open and friendly, and

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wished to be part of the school community. Integration had a purpose for Syrah. She believed it was her religious duty to dispel negative stereotypes of Muslim women and Muslims in general. According to Syrah, actions of piety should transcend worship and be at the forefront of consciousness, and influence people’s interaction with others. She emphasised, Worship is not just prayers, but how we conduct ourselves, our behaviour with others, how we treat the world, how we bring up or children, out conduct, how we treat others, humans, animals, how we eat. (May 2013)14

Although the women agreed with Syrah, Laila felt that Syrah’s approach to bringing down barriers was too simplistic. Laila believed that it was more complex than this, and argued that it was natural for people to gravitate towards people of a similar background, as she witnessed other ethnic minority groups doing the same, pointing out that this desire for sameness and familiarity should not be underestimated. She made the point that English people who had grown up in a predominantly white neighbourhood were less inclined to forge friendships with BritishPakistanis because the lack of familiarity resulted in a lack of confidence to overcome barriers. Laila had studied and worked in central London for several years before moving to Manchester. She found London to be more cosmopolitan, diverse, and therefore more accepting of ethnic minorities than Manchester and its surrounding areas such as Cheshire. It is not surprising that Laila found people in London more accepting of diversity than those living in Cheshire. Laila believed that many wealthy white British people lived in desirable areas in Cheshire and had acquired their wealth through inheritance or business. She also pointed out that most of these people had not moved far from where they grew up in predominantly white areas, and therefore had very little social interaction with non-white ethnic minorities. Goodhart (2004) argues that people have greater loyalty, affiliation and empathy with those with whom they share similar values and histories, alluding to the fact that most people prefer their own ethnic group (cited in Meer and Modood 2014: 8). However, Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992) explained that although the habitus is a product of early socialisation, it can change through new experiences that a person encounters in the outside world (Carol et al. 2018: 46). Laila stated; It is a catch 22 situation. If you get the unfriendly vibes you don’t want to make that effort and try, and you need to have the confidence to make the first move and break this cycle. It’s not just Muslims but the Indians

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at school are also cliquey and the thing is we are drawn to people that look like us, think like us, share similar values and lifestyle to us and dress like us, so it is a natural human trait.15 You cannot allocate the blame on all Pakistani parents because there is a clique of white mums who are the Cheshire set. These women don’t want their children to mix with others who are not from the same area or look different. It is not intentional because they are from an area in Cheshire where there weren’t any Asians, Muslims, and they are white adults who have only experienced mixing with other white adults. So, they would want the same thing for their children. (May 2013)

Laila believed that only meaningful relationships would allow people to overcome widespread prejudice, not simply fleeting encounters with the mothers at the school. Socialising with non-Muslim friends gave Laila the opportunity to answer their questions concerning Muslims and Islam. She valued their candidness and curiosity, as it gave her the chance to clarify her faith instead of her friends relying on unreliable sources such as the media. She went on to say, Non-Muslims should feel comfortable about asking Muslims about Islam and not feel they are perhaps going to offend by asking questions. The only way non-Muslims can truly know about Islam is by asking their Muslims friends whatever questions they have. This way, myths and misconceptions about Islam are dispelled and people will realise that what is in the media about Islam is not always accurate or fact for that matter. (May 2013)

Nadia aired similar concerns on one of the many occasions we met during my fieldwork. She felt that, in general, people concentrated on differences instead of similarities, which is why at school it was common to see British-Pakistani mothers talking among themselves and English mothers chatting to one another. This could explain why there was such polarisation at school among groups of Asians and English. Nadia sensed that the English probably harboured resentment because the area in which she lived used to be a white area, and in recent years there had been an influx of many Asians. She espoused a very pragmatic attitude towards prejudice and suggested that it stemmed from ignorance and a lack of knowledge, as opposed to hate. She also argued that British-Pakistanis were equally responsible for creating negative racial stereotypes, pointing out the fact that many British-Pakistanis did not make the effort to integrate.

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Nadia explained that her sister had moved her children from a school where the pupils were predominantly Asian because she wanted her children to socialise with non-Asian children, so they would be open minded to difference and have the confidence to socialise with people from diverse backgrounds. Growing up in a predominantly white neighbourhood not only gave her and her sister the confidence to interact with white British people, it also made them both realise that they shared a lot in common with them. As well as learning about other people’s cultures and religion, Nadia focussed on the importance of finding commonalities as being critical to breaking down barriers and creating tolerance and understanding between people of different backgrounds. It’s about opening ourselves to other people, making friends with people you would not normally be friends with, so that you can get that insight into other people’s culture and you will definitely learn something from them. On the same note, it is nice to have Asian friends who understand you, you have got to have a good mix of everybody. But then again, we have a lot in common with the white folk as well. A lot of the things we do are the same as our next-door neighbours, they have got two boys the same age and they do football lessons like our boys and they play on the street on their bikes, just mix easily together. (February 2013)

It was fundamental to the women to give their children the opportunity to mix in a culturally diverse environment, to enable them to develop a broader understanding of different cultures and religions. They consciously selected primary schools which had a mix of children from diverse cultural and religious backgrounds and wanted to avoid schools which were predominantly white or Asian. The idea of breaking down barriers in day-to-day routine encounters with non-Muslims, and especially white British non-Muslims, gave the women a sense of agency regarding the widespread problem of Islamophobia. Therefore, small talk with women at their children’s school, participating in social events at school, getting to know their neighbours and encouraging their children to play out with other children in their street, had greater significance beyond these specific encounters. They hoped that such measures would create a better understanding of Muslims and British-Pakistanis in general. Therefore, they would contribute not only to their own sense of wellbeing, while fulfilling their right to belong to Britain, but also to more harmonious inter-ethnic/inter-faith relationships.

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The Role of the Mosque and Being British Muslim While it was important to the women to break down barriers to create a better understanding of Muslims, Riverside Mosque, the mosque attended by most of the women, also made ongoing efforts to overturn the poor image of Islam and Muslims. People were affiliated to the mosque through friendships, worship, use of amenities and participation in religious, social and charitable events. The message that the mosque wanted to publicise was a one of inclusion, integration and camaraderie among its members and the non-Muslim local community. There are many possibilities for intersecting identities that connect people to others if we look beyond ethnic and religious groups: such as local, national, gender, class and those based on interests. Glick Schiller (2008: 5), emphasises the significance of non-ethnic forms of migrant incorporation to give a more accurate depiction of the lives of migrants by shedding light on relationships that go beyond common culture and history. The women were partaking in many pathways, local and transnational, which involved friendships, charitable and religious networks, not necessarily bound by ethnicity.16 The women were mindful of the fact that in public they represented their faith and heritage, and therefore good conduct through manners and politeness was always imperative. They engaged in strategies not only to break down barriers between British Muslims and non-Muslims by bridging ties through their local mosque, but also to deal with Islamophobia. The problem for the women was that their religious and ethnic identity is one that suffers from the negative perceptions of the general public. Despite the fact that most were born and raised in Britain, this antipathy towards Muslims has made them question their sense of belonging. Here I use Putnam’s (2000: 22–24) notion of bridging and bonding ties to understand how people at Riverside Mosque were participating in projects of strengthening ties within the congregation (within the faith), and also creating connections with the local community (outside the faith). Putnam defines social capital as connections among individuals that result in trust and reciprocity, and distinguishes two forms of social capital, which are essential for establishing social networks and increasing the productivity of individuals and groups (2000: 22). These forms of social capital are ‘bridging’ and ‘bonding’. Bonding social capital strengthens and consolidates existing ties and is important in affirming exclusive identities. This type of solidarity within a group creates strong

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in-group loyalty and provides social and psychological support for less fortunate members of the community. Bridging social capital, on the other hand, is necessary for external contacts and gaining information, allowing people to move into different circles and to embrace more diverse identities (Putnam 2000: 23). The notion of bonding social capital is useful for defining the kind of community-building project I witnessed within the mosque, at religious and social events. At the mosque, bonding social capital among British Muslims was about emphasising values, creating learning opportunities and engaging in social activities in line with the Islamic teachings promoted by the mosque. The people affiliated to the mosque— the volunteers, the congregation, the teachers and organisers—were concerned about the threat of young British Muslims trading their religious values for discourses and values that prevailed in the West. Therefore, those affiliated to the mosque made efforts to maintain the interest of young Muslims through organising activities, clubs and social events. Riverside Mosque also ran a number of clubs and sports activities for women and children. It held holiday clubs for children, and activity weekends for youth, and also for families. The mosque’s football club and table tennis club were very popular with teenage boys. It catered to the needs of mothers with infants and young children through its mother and toddler group. Therefore, the purpose of Riverside Mosque went beyond worship, and was equally about sharing an Islamic identity and socialising among other Muslims. Some women attended these groups, events and activities organised through the mosque for social reasons. Their motivation to attend religious gatherings was to be among their friends. I found many similarities between the role of the mosque in my study and the role of the temple in Rayaprol’s (1997: 138) study of Indian migrants in Pittsburgh, which she describes as not only a place of worship, but also serving as a centre for social and cultural activities to create a close-knit community. Farah explained that this community-building approach that Riverside Mosque promoted made learning about Islam interesting for both children and adults. The teaching and the atmosphere that the mosque encouraged were far removed from the draconian image of Islam that prevailed in the West. The mosque was salient to the needs of many of the women, because they wanted their children to have a strong religious identity and to meet other Muslim children their own age. Through

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participating in learning and activities with other children, parents wanted their children to have a positive association with Islam and Muslims. This sense of camaraderie and the social aspect of the mosque were more important than ever for the women I worked with. Being a British Muslim was not just about their faith, but also about reclaiming the image of Muslims that had suffered through their portrayal in the media. While they could not change the image of Muslims in the media, they hoped to create a positive image of Muslims at a grassroots level through inter-faith and cross-cultural dialogue, and to make a positive contribution to their neighbourhood, school and work through community projects and charitable events, which is what the women understood as both British values and Muslim values. Therefore, social interaction and charity work among non-Muslims and non-Pakistanis was an opportunity to shatter negative stereotypes about Muslims and British-Pakistanis and to create positive images of Muslims and British-Pakistanis. They achieved this through interacting with people outside their religion and ethnic group, as well as people within their ethnic and religious group such as the worshippers at their local mosque and the people in their local community. This approach is what Glick Schiller et al. (2011: 400) describes as ‘cosmopolitan sociability’: the collaboration of people from diverse backgrounds promoting ‘social relations of inclusiveness’. Meanwhile, Riverside Mosque also liaised with Muslim and non-Muslim small businesses, retailers, residents and schools in the local area to support integration through common goals, values and interests, such as fundraising and social events to benefit the local community: all of which are examples of what Putnam (2000: 23) describes as bridging social capital. I attended several fundraising events, such as charity cake sales, organised by the women who were involved with Riverside mosque. They organised several cake sales a year to raise money for the school for those with special needs which was nearby, for cancer research, and for the local hospice. In addition to these local causes, they were also involved in fundraising for international humanitarian disasters through cakes sales, fun runs and sporting events. Cake sales usually took place at the mosque or a nearby church hall. Local fundraising events were advertised outside the mosque, in shop windows in the local area and the local newspaper. These events proved to be very popular with the local residents, mainly mothers with young children or elderly couples. The events were well organised, with volunteers allocated to serving teas and coffees and

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others running the stalls. Volunteers baked tray bakes, cupcakes, and a selection of different types of cookies, sandwich cakes, novelty cakes and different flavoured cheesecakes. Cake sales were also an opportunity for the women to demonstrate their creative and baking skills with their elaborate displays. Fundraising is not a new activity among British-Pakistanis, and Werbner’s study of Pakistanis living in Manchester describes fundraising events such as a charity gala for Imran Khan’s cancer hospital in Pakistan (2002: 211), and the Al-Masoom Foundation, a charity organisation established by a first-generation Pakistani husband-and-wife team to help disaster victims in Pakistan and Bangladesh (Werbner 2002: 203).17 However, my study sheds lights on how money was being raised for British charities and local charities, and not exclusively to help fellow Muslims or Pakistanis in need. Bridging social capital was critical to the reputation of BritishPakistanis because it was their way of asserting integration in a positive way, by contributing to the society in which they lived. Similarly, Hussain and Bagguley also emphasise that an important aspect of being British was being a good citizen, abiding by the laws of the country, and making a positive contribution to the community in which they lived (2013: 35).18 I visited the family Fun Day held at the Riverside Mosque in September 2013, which was a bi-annual event. The aim of this event was to bring people in the surrounding area together, and also to raise money for a local charity: in recent years the proceeds have gone to a local school for those with special needs. The mosque grounds were used for stalls and entertainment for the children. There was go-carting, face painting, balloons, bouncy castles and pony trekking. Friendly competitions were also organised at the Fun Day to encourage parents and children to participate, such as a tug-of-war, an obstacle race, and football matches. There was a large stall selling ‘halal’ sweets, and other stalls sold cupcakes, headscarves, stationery, costume jewellery, Islamic books and bags. I came across a stall selling Arabic calligraphy, where customers could have their name written in an Arabic calligraphy style on canvas. The barbeque was very popular, and there seemed to be an endless queue for halal hotdogs, burgers, chicken wings, chicken tikka and spicy kebabs. Next to the barbeque there were other food stalls selling Indonesian, Indian and Middle Eastern food, which were also popular. Amber and Syrah were volunteers at a stall selling refreshments. I also recognised other women from the mosque volunteering on the stalls. Chairs and benches were set out in the mosque grounds where people

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could sit and enjoy good food and company. Families had attended the fair for many years, and I met several people that I recognised from the mother and toddler group held at the mosque. The fair was an opportunity for them to catch up with friends and neighbours, and to enjoy the food and festivities. The children ran around entertaining themselves as the parents chatted. It was a safe environment as the mosque had been cordoned off and no cars could drive into the carpark, and there was security at the front gate letting people through. There were several groups of teenagers who had come with their friends. Most of the people who were attending were British-Pakistanis and Arabs, with some interracial couples and English families.19 The fair and other social activities open to the public were examples of ‘incorporation’, a term coined by Glick Schiller et al. (2006: 614) to describe a process of establishing networks of social relations that enable a deeper analysis of multiple ties within and across nation states. These are either created by individuals or organised groups that link to an institution. Here, the institution was the mosque, through which members engaged with other British Muslims from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, and also with non-Muslims to strengthen neighbourhood and community ties. While I observed very little inter-ethnic socialising taking place, this event promoted the gathering of people from different cultural and religious backgrounds in a convivial manner. What mattered more to the organisers of this event and to the women in my study was the impression they left on non-Muslims. Events like these were a platform for British Muslims to convey the message to non-Muslims that there was no shame in being a Muslim. This and many other events I observed during my fieldwork helped me to understand the relationship between being Muslim and British which, when I initially embarked on my fieldwork, had seemed like conflicting identities. At this event, the women were reaching out to non-Muslims through familiarity, common interests and concerns. It was important to the women and to the organisers that they achieved their objective of making a contribution to the local community through fundraising, showing a positive face of Islam, and bringing people in the local area together in a convivial manner.

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Conclusion I have chosen this as my first ethnographic chapter as it underscores why the topics discussed in subsequent chapters are central to the lives of the women. The challenges facing the women in their everyday lives such as prejudice and marginalisation have drawn them closer to family, British-Pakistani friends and their cultural and religious identities. It is these shared experiences that define what it means to be a middle-class British-Pakistani woman. The women recognise that the colour of their skin is a visible marker of difference which is why it is imperative to embrace these differences through the performance of cultural and religious identities. This is something that has been imparted to them in their upbringing and that they feel is important to pass on to their children. Therefore, family and British-Pakistani friends are not only salient for belonging, but also for instilling pride in their minority status. They feel that is it through shared religious and cultural identities that they can maximise their social capital and recognition. The experience of being a British-Pakistani for many women involves navigating through the challenges they face and finding empowerment and pride through the very identities that are marginalised in wider society. It seems that the women can only feel this sense of empowerment and fulfilment among those with whom they share the same ethnic, cultural and religious identities. The women also felt that their middle-class status went unrecognised because of their ethnic minority status. They expected a greater level of tolerance for diversity and difference among the middle-classes who they assumed would, like themselves, be broadminded because of their exposure to different cultures through education and travel. However, they were surprised that such bigotry and narrowmindedness still existed among many of the people they came across at their children’s schools and in their workplaces. Most of the women saw discrimination and prejudice as inherent to their experience of being British-Pakistani Muslims. Being British-Pakistani and Muslim has meant that they had to challenge negative stereotypes about Muslims, and to show strength and pride in being British, Pakistani and Muslim against a backdrop of discrimination. That being said, most of the women agreed that their positive experiences have outweighed their negative ones, making them proud to be British-Pakistani and Muslim. Recognising the benefits of living in Britain and mastering ways to challenge negative stereotypes have enabled British-Pakistani Muslims to carve a place in society.

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Notes 1. Tajfel and Turner (1979) cited in Ysseldyk et al.’s (2010: 61) research on social identity and religious beliefs. 2. Walton and Cohen (2007) in their study of social belonging in universities. 3. The Manchester Arena bombing happened a few years after my fieldwork, on 22nd May 2017, four years after the murder of Lee Rigby. On their websites, Riverside Mosque and Fairview Mosque vehemently condemned the Manchester Arena bombing and encouraged worshippers to attend the memorial site in Manchester’s St Ann’s Square as a mark of respect for the victims. 4. Verkuyten and Martinovic (2012), in their study of social identity among Muslim immigrants in the Netherlands. 5. Bhimji (2012) uses the term ‘Asian’ to refer to mainly South Asian Muslim culture, because her study was about the experiences of British South Asian Muslim women. 6. Throughout this book the women refer to white British as ‘English’. 7. For most of the women I spoke to, ‘Asian’ was synonymous with Pakistani and non-Pakistani Muslim South Asians, and at other times also included non-Muslim South Asians. These boundaries were not concrete but were contextual, relational and responsive. At times they ascribed to a single category and at other times multiple categories. Therefore, the variations in the combination of different categories that the women in my study ascribe to are multiple. 8. Raj’s (2003) study of British Punjabi Hindus. 9. Political stability, economic stability and security from terrorist attacks. 10. Hussain and Bagguley’s (2005) study of citizenship and identity among British Pakistanis in Bradford. 11. Karlsen and Nazroo’s (2013) study of Muslims in Britain, Germany and Spain. 12. I do not imply that working-class British-Pakistanis lack agency or the tools to challenge prejudice. Middle-class British-Pakistanis have the added advantage of greater social and cultural capital through their place of work, children’s school, neighbourhood and the mosque reaching out to the local community through social and charitable events. This is what Glick Schiller (2008: 4–5) refers to as ‘non-ethnic forms of interaction’ in migration. In this way, the women in my study were making a statement that they were integrating in a positive way by contributing to the society in which they lived, creating situations, motives and interests that draw people of different communities and backgrounds together. 13. Fletcher and Spracklen’s (2013) study of inclusion and exclusion among British-Pakistani Muslim cricketers.

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14. Second-generation Spanish-Moroccan women in Mendoza Carmona’s study also expressed that Islam was more than a religion, it was a way of life. Islam was reflected through behaviour, conduct and manners (2018: 48). 15. Indian here is used to mean non-Muslim British-Indians. The majority of British-Indians at the children’s primary school were Hindu. 16. People outside their religion and ethnic group such as work colleagues, neighbours, or the parents and teachers at their children’s school. 17. Imran Khan was a former cricket captain who played for Pakistan before entering politics in Pakistan. He is currently the Prime Minister of Pakistan. 18. Hussain and Bagguley’s (2013) study of British-Pakistanis in West Yorkshire. 19. The majority of Muslims settled in the UK are of South Asian decent (Joly and Wadia 2017: 32), therefore it is not surprising that British-Pakistanis made up the largest ethnic group at the Fun Day at Riverside Mosque.

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Carter, C. (2013). Woolwich attack: As it happened May 24. The Telegraph. Available at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/terrorism-in-the-uk/100 75134/Woolwich-attack-soldier-terror-live.html. Accessed 10 January 2017. Dodd, V., & Halliday, J. (2013, December 19). Lee Rigby murder: Michael Adebolajo and Michael Adebowale found guilty. The Guardian. Available at http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2013/dec/19/lee-rigby-murdermichael-adebolajo-adebowale-guilty. Accessed 23 October 2015. Dodd, V. (2005, August 17). Asian men targeted in stop and search. The Guardian. Available at https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2005/aug/17/ race.july7. Accessed 10 January 2017. Elahi, F., & Khan, O. (2017). Islamophobia: Still a challenge for us all. A 20th-anniversary Report. Runnymede: Intelligence for a Multi-ethnic Britain. Available at https://www.runnymedetrust.org/uploads/Islamophobia%20R eport%202018%20FINAL.pdf. Accessed 12 January 2019. Field, C. D. (2007). Islamophobia in contemporary Britain: The evidence of the opinion polls, 1988–2006. Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations, 18(4), 447–477. Field, C. D. (2011). Young British Muslims since 9/11: A composite attitudinal profile. Religion, State and Society, 39(2–3), 159–175. Fletcher, T., & Spracklen, K. (2013). Cricket, drinking and exclusion of British Pakistani Muslims? Ethnic and Racial Studies, 37, 1–19. Ghaffar-Kucher, A. (2012). The religification of Pakistani-American youth. American Educational Research Journal, 49(1), 30–52. Glick Schiller, N. (2008). Beyond methodological ethnicity: Local and transnational pathways of immigrant incorporation (Willy Brandt Series of Working papers in International Migration and Ethnic Relations). Malmo: Malmö Institute for Studies of Migration, Diversity and Welfare (MIM) and Department of International Migration and Ethnic Relations (IMER) Malmö University. Glick Schiller, N., Çaˇglar, A., & Guldbrandsen, T. (2006). Beyond the ethnic lens: Locality, globality, and born-again incorporation. American Ethnologist, 33(4), 612–633. Glick Schiller, N., Tsypylma, D., & Gruner-Domic, S. (2011). Defining cosmopolitan sociability in a transnational age. An introduction. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 34(3), 399–418. Goodhart, D. (2004, February). Too diverse? Prospect Magazine. Halliday, F. (1999). ‘Islamophobia’ reconsidered. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 22(5), 892–902. Howarth, C. (2006). Race as stigma: Positioning the stigmatized as agents, not objects. Journal of Community and Applied Social Psychology, 16(6), 442–451. Hussain, Y., & Bagguley, P. (2005). Citizenship, ethnicity and identity: British Pakistanis after the 2001 ‘riots’. Sociology, 39(3), 407–425.

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Hussain, Y., & Bagguley, P. (2013). Funny looks: British Pakistanis’ experiences after 7 July 2005. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 36(1), 28–46. Ijaz, A., & Abbas, T. (2010). The impact of inter-generational change on the attitudes of working-class South Asian Muslim parents on the education of their daughters. Gender and Education, 22(3), 313–326. Jasinskaja-Lahti, I., Liebkind, K., & Solheim, E. (2009). To identify or not to identify? National disidentification as an alternative reaction to perceived ethnic discrimination. Applied Psychology, 58(1), 105–128. Jaspal, R., & Cinnirella, M. (2013). The construction of British national identity among British South Asians. National Identities, 15(2), 157–175. Joly, D., & Wadia, K. (2017). Muslim women and power: Political and civic engagement in West European societies. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Karlsen, S., & Nazroo, J. (2013). Influences on forms of national identity and feeling ‘at home’ among Muslim groups in Britain Germany and Spain. Ethnicities, 13(6), 689–708. Kyriakides, C., Virdee, S., & Modood, T. (2009). Racism, Muslims and the national imagination. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 35(2), 289– 308. Malik, J. (2013). Integration of Muslim migrants and the politics of dialogue: The case of modern Germany. Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 33(4), 495–506. Marranci, G. (2007). Migration and the construction of Muslim women’s identity in Northern Ireland. In C. Aitchison, P. Hopkins, & M. Kwan (Eds.), Geographies of Muslim identities: Diaspora, gender and belonging (pp. 79–92). Aldershot: Ashgate. Meer, N., Dwyer, C., & Modood, T. (2010). Embodying nationhood? Conceptions of British national identity, citizenship, and gender in the ‘veil affair’. The Sociological Review, 58(1), 84–111. Meer, N., & Modood, T. (2009). Refutations of racism in the ‘Muslim question’. Patterns of Prejudice, 43(3–4), 335–354. Meer, N., & Modood, T. (2014). Cosmopolitanism and integrationism: Is British multiculturalism a ‘zombie category’? Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power, 21, 658–674. Mendoza Carmona, B. E. (2018). Transforming ‘everyday Islam’ through feminism and higher education: Second-generation Muslim women in Spain. Contemporary Levant, 3(1), 44–55. Miller, D. (2000). Citizenship and national identity. Cambridge: Polity Press. Mirza, M., Senthilkumaran, A., & Ja’far, Z. (2007). Living apart together: British Muslims and the paradox of multiculturalism. London: Policy Exchange. Modood, T. (1997). ‘Difference’, Cultural racism and anti-racism. In P. Werbner & T. Modood (Eds.), Debating cultural hybridity: Multi-cultural identities and the politics of anti-racism (pp. 154–172). London: Zed Books.

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Modood, T. (2005). Multicultural politics: Racism, ethnicity and Muslims in Britain. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Mythen, G., Walklate, S., & Khan, F. (2009). ‘I’m a Muslim, but not a terrorist’: Victimisation, risky identities and the performance of safety. British Journal of Criminology, 49, 736–754. Parekh, B. (2006). Rethinking multiculturalism: Cultural diversity and political theory. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Pearson, A. (2014). Rotherham: In the face of such evil, who is the racist now? The Telegraph. Available at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ukn ews/crime/11059138/Rotherham-In-the-face-of-such-evil-who-is-the-racistnow.html. Accessed 23 October 2015. Pearson, A. (2006). Murdered for loving our values. Daily Mail. Available at http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-391751/Murdered-lovingvalues.html. Accessed 23 October 2015. Putnam, R. D. (2000). Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of American community. London: Touchstone. Raj, D. (2003). Where are you from? Middle-class migrants in the modern world. London: University of California Press. Rana, J. (2007). The Story of Islamophobia. Souls, 9(2), 148–161. Rayaprol, A. (1997). Negotiating identities: Women in the diaspora. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ryan, L. (2011). Muslim women negotiating collective stigmatization: ‘We’re just normal people’. Sociology, 45(6), 1045–1060. Rytter, M. (2013). Family upheaval: Generation, mobility and relatedness among Pakistani migrants in Denmark. Oxford: Bergahn. Rytter, M., & Pedersen, M. H. (2014). A decade of suspicion: Islam and Muslims in Denmark after 9/11. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 37 (13), 2303–2321. Said, E. W. (1978). Orientalism: Western conceptions of the orient. New York: Pantheon Books. Sandikci, Ö., & Ger, G. (2010). Veiling in style: How does a stigmatized practice become fashionable? Journal of Consumer Research, 37 (1), 15–36. Shah, S., & Iqbal, M. (2011). Pakistani diaspora in Britain: Intersections of multilocationality and girls’ education. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 32(5), 763–783. Vasta, E. (2013). Do we need social cohesion in the 21st century? Multiple languages of belonging in the metropolis. Journal of Intercultural Studies, 34(2), 196–213. Verkuyten, M., & Martinovic, B. (2012). Social identity complexity and immigrants’ attitude toward the host nation: The intersection of ethnic and religious group identification. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 38(9), 1165–1177.

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CHAPTER 4

A Mother’s Love

During my time in the field, I came to realise that their mothers were central in the lives of the women in my study. I could not ignore this special relationship and bond between mother and daughter. The confidence bestowed by mothers gave the women a sense of self-esteem and the assertiveness to stand up to prejudice, as discussed in Chapter 3. The previous chapter highlighted the reasons as to why the women turned to family and British-Pakistani friends for belonging, and why acceptance through family is so important to them. It was through love, recognition and investment that the mothers established a strong bond with their daughters. This special bond between mother and daughter is critical, giving insight into the values and identities important to the women. It is in the home, particularly through the influence of the mother, that certain traits and identities such as belonging, recognition, empowerment, capital, competitiveness, and cultural and religious identities have been imparted and give meaning to middle-class British-Pakistani identity. Therefore, the influence of mothers in shaping the values of their daughters is critical for determining the cultural conventions that are passed down, which I discuss in greater depth in the upcoming chapters. Certain cultural conventions and traditions were transferred through love and nurture. Daughters reciprocated their mothers’ love and commitment through loyalty and by trying to live up to their parents’ expectations. Their own parenting skills were influenced by their © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_4

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upbringing. In the next chapter (which discusses the women’s relationship with their in-laws) I argue that their role as a daughter-in-law was shaped by the values and traditions that their mothers passed on to them. They considered their mothers to be their role models and inspiration in life, and still looked to their mothers for support and advice, even though they were successful and independent women. Scholars of migration studies note that migrant parents act as role models and play a significant part in socialising and influencing their children, through their own behaviour, attitudes and parenting style (Berrington 2018: 5). In my study, it was precisely this relationship between mother and daughter that determined their future, their success and achievements, the values they espoused, and the life choices they made. These not only included religious and cultural values: they also learned from their mothers the art of patience, resilience in times of adversity, determination, kindness and compassion. It was these traits that shaped their relationships in their personal and professional lives. The mothers wanted their daughters to be good wives, mothers, students, professionals, citizens and friends, and to earn the benefits from these relationships and roles. I was fortunate enough to be able to interview the mothers of most of the women in my study. The only mothers that I was unable to interview were those who did not live in Manchester. I was taken aback by the warmth and generosity of these mothers, as they invited me into their homes and welcomed me as a friend of their daughters. I had merely visited for the purpose of interviewing, not as a guest. I was mindful that time was precious for the mothers I was interviewing, as they led busy lives either working, taking care of family and grandchildren, attending religious classes, or other projects. Nonetheless, I was served lunch at each of the houses I visited: the mothers had gone to a lot of effort and I felt grateful for their time and hospitality. Every one of the mothers that I had the privilege of speaking to had an interesting life history, each one unique, deeply moving and incredibly inspirational. Much as I was fortunate to have met the mothers of most of the women, I have only included four case studies in this chapter. Thus, it was a very difficult task to decide which accounts to include and which ones to leave out. The mothers shared with me their experiences of moving to Britain from Pakistan. For some it was a lonely time, not knowing anybody in the new country and feeling isolated. They were not accustomed to the language, culture and way of life in Britain. Some of the women explained that household chores were laborious because in the early years of settling

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in Britain, many British-Pakistani families lived frugally and did not have amenities like washing machines, dishwashers and household appliances that cut time and effort. Cooking from scratch and handwashing clothes were time-consuming tasks. They worked at home in solitude, longing for the familiarity, friends and family they left behind, while their husbands worked long hours in manual labour jobs. The only control they had was in nurturing their children, and they measured their success on the contentment of their children. As their children grew up, mothers often turned to them as their confidants, someone to share their thoughts, experiences and problems with. Daughters recognised the hard work and sacrifices their mothers had made to provide the best for their children. Taking time out of their busy schedule to devote to their parents, whether it was to take them shopping, to hospital appointments or simply have a cup of tea with them was an important priority for the women I spoke to. This was their way of expressing gratitude to their parents for their love and support.1 Having spent time with the mothers, it became apparent to me to that they were incredibly driven. They were not submissive, but possessed tenacity, influence and dignity. They became strong and confident through their life experiences and the challenges they were faced with and passed this confidence and courage onto their daughters. From a young age the mothers had dreams and aspirations, but these had been curtailed by family and cultural obligations. They had ambitions to go to university and pursue a career instead of being tied down with the responsibility of marriage, in-laws and children at a young age. Growing up in Pakistan, they had looked to their female teachers, heroines in books and female doctors as role models, and explained that the society they belonged to expected women to obey cultural and family obligations. It was common practice for parents to accept a suitable spouse for their daughter early on, because delaying a proposal could mean that the prospective groom’s family would look elsewhere for a suitable bride for their son. The mothers I interviewed were in their sixties and early seventies. They were from conservative backgrounds in Pakistan. They told me that most women of their generation in Pakistan had been married between the ages of 17 and 22, and that women were seldom involved with their own marriage arrangements and proposals, which were generally controlled and organised by their parents. Arranged marriages were the norm among that generation, whether they were from an urban or

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rural background. Among many Pakistani families, in both Pakistan and Britain, marriage was considered to be an alliance between families rather than individuals (Werbner 1990: 233). Despite this, a small number of women of that generation had a say in their marriage, or even fell in love and married the person they wanted to, but this was atypical and was frowned upon among conservative families in Pakistan of that era. The mothers had moved to Britain as young brides with their husbands, and within the first year of their marriage most were expecting their first child.

Ambition I think it’s just a natural progression that is happening. We feel we want to give our kids better, than what we’ve got. Just like our parents gave us a good education and that was their priority, wasn’t it? The Asian parents wanted to give us the education that they didn’t get a chance to receive. So, they’ve achieved their goal in that way. But we want our kids to have a good education but also extra things like sports. People do all the extracurricular things as well. I think it’s just a progression. I think they will want even more for their own kids. (Nadia, January 2013) You have hit the nail on the head because [for] our parents their objective was to educate us and make something of ourselves here, and not have to struggle like they did when they first came here. (Roshan, January 2013)

One of the incentives for the first generation to move to Britain was to provide a better future for their children, and to achieve social mobility through their children’s achievements. Even more interesting for my own study has been understanding the pressure and expectations placed on second-generation women by their parents, to take advantage of opportunities that were unavailable to their parents in their homeland. Academic achievement by second-generation migrant women is enmeshed in the diaspora’s narrative fabric (Rajiva 2013: 24).2 According to Rytter (2013: 63), first-generation Pakistani migrants in Denmark make known to their children the sacrifices they have made to provide a better life for them, and that therefore it was their duty to take their education seriously and to study very hard. In this sense, children’s academic achievement is seen as a social venture, a means to bring power, wealth and honour to the whole family, and not an individual venture pursued for one’s own needs and interests (Tao and Hong 2014: 111).3

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The mothers embraced similar attitudes. Academic achievement of one child set an example for the rest to follow, elevating the social status of the next generation. Mothers were the impetus behind their daughters’ success. Daughters credited their mothers with their achievements in their education and careers. Even though most of the mothers I spoke to did had not had the opportunity to obtain a higher education, they relived their dreams through their daughters: supporting them, investing time in their daughters and making sure they achieved their goals. While there is a correlation between parental aspirations and the academic achievement and career prospects of their children (Teney et al. 2013: 586), most of the mothers had not themselves achieved a higher education. Despite this fact, they valued education and had high educational aspirations for their own children. Even though many of the mothers did not study beyond high school, their aspirations and the value they placed on education were sufficient for their daughters to succeed in their own education and careers.4 The mothers wanted their daughters to complete their education and to be on a career path before getting married. They encouraged their daughters to have a career which would offer them financial independence and security. This supports the work of many scholars focussing on education and success among South Asian Muslim women and other migrants. Scholars of first-generation migrants have shown a link between migration and social mobility through investment in children’s academic achievements and later professional careers (Fuligni et al. 1999; Modood 2004; Rytter 2013; Shah et al. 2010; Yoo and Kim 2010). A lot of pressure and high expectations are placed on the children’s performance at school. It is usually the mothers who encourage and enable their daughters to pursue higher education and live away from home to study (Joly and Wadia 2017: 164). Mothers transmit cultural capital by making sure that their daughters are high achievers and driven in their education and careers (Fathi 2017: 52). In addition to academic success, Muslim women are encouraged by their parents to pursue professional careers to gain financial independence (Ahmad 2001, 2012).5 Mothers push their daughters towards education because of their desire for their daughters to achieve an independent lifestyle, so they do not have to rely on or submit to a future husband or in-laws. Financial independence through a professional career provided, in the parents’ view, a form of security in the event of a marriage break down or financial difficulties in a marriage (Ahmad 2001:

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145). In other words, parents regarded education and a career as a form of ‘insurance policy’ for their daughters, something they could fall back on in times of difficulty. At the same time, mothers also wanted their daughters to excel in their education and career for personal fulfilment. The women told me that growing up, their parents measured their academic abilities against cousins and friends’ children and kept a close eye on their progress at school. The women’s parents had established tightknit ethnic networks by keeping in close contact with first-generation Pakistani friends and relatives who lived close by. These tightly knit ethnic networks created a closed structure for second-generation youth, making it possible to enforce cultural norms and expectations such as academic achievement (Shah et al. 2010: 1112; Zhou 2000, 2005; Zhou and Bankston 1994). Shah et al. mention that education mobilises into a form of capital for some ethnic minority groups (2010: 1112). Modood (2004) defines this emphasis on higher education and career aspirations for British-Pakistani children as ‘ethnic capital’ (Shah et al. 2010: 1113). Ethnic capital involves the transmission and enforcement of values and aspirations relating to education and is the reason why so many workingclass British-Pakistanis have entered higher education. Pakistani parents were mindful of the accessibility of education in Britain and seized the opportunity for their children, to enable them to be in a better position to achieve social mobility (Shah et al. 2010: 1112). The common threads between all the mothers I interviewed were resilience, patience and determination. Many mothers had lacked the opportunities to fulfil their own ambitions but made sure to impart these virtues and the drive for their daughters to pursue their dreams of a higher education and a successful career. Interviewing the mothers gave me an insight into their lives and as well as their life experiences. What they had learnt from their own experiences was precisely what they were passing on to their own daughters. Daughters were inspired by their mother’s courage in stepping out of their comfort zone to learn about British culture in order to understand their children’s world, which was so different from their own. When their children were young, mothers expressed their love through affection, nurture and food. As they grew older, mothers became ‘friends’ to their daughters: listening to them, taking an interest in their lives, instilling them with confidence, security and self-belief. Daughters expressed gratitude and love towards their mothers by upholding the religious and cultural values that were important to their family.

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Values and expectations are not only transferred through love but were also negotiated through love. Mothers understood that their daughters were growing up in a very different world than the one that they had grown up in. Over time, mothers were becoming aware of the dangers of oppression and dogma, and therefore they were becoming more accommodating to their children’s needs and desires. For instance, most of the women had dated their husbands before marriage, which was not the cultural norm among the previous generation. Even though many of the women had studied or worked away from home, it was not the societal norm in their parent’s generation for an unmarried woman to have such freedoms. Furthermore, the mothers were aware of the possibility that their daughters may not entirely abide by their rules. Many of the women visited clubs and pubs at university and bent certain rules. They saw these as minor indiscretions and a part of growing up, not worth disclosing to their parents. Overall, the women respected their parents and did not want to commit major transgressions, as with many young South Asians for whom honouring their family and elders is paramount. Teens in Shankar’s study of South Asians in Silicon Valley had close ties to their parents, relatives and community, and therefore keeping to certain values and traditions was important (2008: 56). Joly and Wadia also note that British Muslim Asian women tend to value their parents and have strong emotional ties to them (2017: 164). The was also true for the women when they were growing up. Now that they were mothers themselves, they wanted to give their children a similar upbringing as their own. They aimed to instil strong cultural and religious values, knowing that their children could never assimilate like other white ethnic minority groups (see Chapters 3 and 6, which discuss the importance of ethnic and religious identities).

Amber’s Mother Jamila Amber had a very close relationship with her parents, particularly her mother. She was one of four children, and the only daughter. Jamila was in her mid-sixties. She was an elegant lady and looked much younger than her years. I met with Jamila at her house. She and her husband lived in a spacious bungalow in a tranquil and leafy part of Cheshire, in the family home where Amber had grown up. I accompanied Amber to her mother’s house. Jamila greeted me warmly and led me to the sitting room. It was immaculate, uncluttered and tastefully furnished, giving it a relaxing

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and inviting feel. Like her daughter, she was slim, petite and took pride in her appearance. The subtlety of her dress and surroundings added to her ethereal quality. She was graceful and very softly spoken, which made me feel at ease in her company. We sat on the sofa sipping tea, overlooking the landscaped garden and the open fields beyond. Soon after getting married at the age of eighteen, Jamila had moved to Bradford with her husband. She explained that many young Pakistanis at the time were migrating for a better life, saying that Pakistan was a relatively new country and job opportunities there were scarce. Meanwhile, there was a shortage of labour in Britain, which is why so many Pakistanis moved to Britain. This demand was filled by migrants from the Commonwealth countries such as the Caribbean and South Asia, who mainly came to work in the textile and transport industries (Werbner 1990: 5–6).6 Amber’s father’s older brother had migrated to Britain a few years before them. He had established his family in Bradford, worked on the railway, and asked Amber’s parents to join him. The prospect of moving to a foreign country was daunting for Jamila, and at the tender age of eighteen she did not feel she was ready to part from her own family, friends and familiar surroundings. Jamila had been a model student and received a prize at high school for obtaining the top grades in her year in the A-level equivalent exams in Pakistan. At the request of her parents, she was married as soon as she had completed high school, leaving her ambitions to go to university unfulfilled. Academic achievement was a rewarding experience for Jamila and the other mothers I interviewed, because they valued learning, and acquiring knowledge elevated their self-esteem. Jamila followed her ambitious husband to Bradford and moved into a large Victorian semidetached house that they shared with her brother-in-law and his family. Before long, they were joined by her husband’s sisters and their families. Jamila’s parents-in-law remained in Pakistan: it was only their children who emigrated to carve out a future for themselves in Britain. Amber’s father was thus indebted to his older brother, who had given him financial support and found him employment. Jamila explained that it was common among Pakistanis for an older brother to settle in Britain, before calling his younger siblings to join him. The mothers I spoke to told me that siblings were usually part of the chain migration, and that parents were usually left behind in Pakistan while their children started a new life in Britain and sent remittances to improve the socio-economic status of their family they left behind in Pakistan.7 Under this system, the

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older brother usually took his younger siblings under his care by providing them with a home, employment, financial support and meeting their needs. Younger siblings were under an obligation to their older brother, and they were dutiful and loyal and lived by the rules and expectations of their older brother. This was a very hierarchical relationship, as younger siblings were under the shadow of the older brother who made family decisions and controlled the family. This position came with responsibility. According to mothers, this idea of hierarchy was important because it ensured structure and discipline within a family. Living among in-laws in a foreign country was challenging for Jamila. Being the youngest adult in the extended family, she was taken advantage of by the other women she was sharing the house with. She was made to do the lion’s share of the housework and was often scrutinised and intimidated by the older women. It was a difficult and lonely time because her husband worked long hours on the railways in Bradford and came home tired. She did not want to burden him with her problems and put on a brave face instead of confiding in him. Inside she was lonely and sad, longing for the familiarity and love of her own family that she had left behind. Jamila explained that her first few years in Britain taught her about the importance of resilience, patience and forbearance. She knew that she was in a vulnerable position because her husband had very little time for her in the early years of marriage, due to the long hours he worked. Jamila explained to me that in her case, this arrangement worked because her brother-in-law had her family’s best interests at heart, and he was a kind and fair man with good intentions. Unbeknownst to her at the time, her older brother-in-law kept a watchful eye over her and when she was not around, he reprimanded the other women for their unfair treatment towards her. Realising that Jamila was being unfairly treated, he favoured her over the other family members. Jamila expressed to Amber that her patience was not in vain, and had she made a fuss that her in-laws were unfair to her, it would have created problems in the family. Eventually, Jamila’s husband was grateful for her efforts to keep his family together while he was working long hours in the early years of settling in Britain. Her in-laws also changed their attitude towards her and started giving her the respect she deserved. By keeping the family together, Jamila made the point that her children could continue to enjoy the company of aunts, uncles and cousins, which was very important to her. She would

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never have severed ties with her in-laws because she did not want to deny her children a sense of family and belonging. This impacted Amber in her own life, regarding her relationship with her own in-laws. At the start of her marriage, relations with her in-laws were fraught. Instead of making an issue out of this situation, Amber followed her mother’s example and persevered with her in-laws. Eventually she won them over and gained their trust and affection and became a valued member of the family. She told me that the first few years were difficult, but her mother taught her to have forbearance, not to lose dignity over family politics, and always to remember the importance of family. Like she had, Amber’s children enjoyed the company of cousins, aunts and uncles from both sides of the family. When Jamila finally moved into her own house, she was encouraged by her husband to take driving lessons, and he also supported her decision to take English classes at college. She mentioned that not many Pakistani women in Bradford were fluent in English or could drive, and was thus grateful that her husband wanted her to be independent, to be able to meet friends, do the school run and go shopping whenever she liked without having to rely on public transport or her husband. As her family expanded, she turned her attention to her children, cooking meals that her family enjoyed, reading to her children and helping them with homework. Despite enjoying her independence—living in a nuclear family, and the privacy that came with not having other family members interfering in her day-to-day life—she also appreciated having family living close by which were company for her, and also for her children. When Amber was living in Bradford, the motivation and support she received at home, along with the recognition she received from her teachers, enabled her to excel at school. Tramonte and Willms, note that experiences at home are pivotal in helping children to adapt at school and to succeed academically, highlighting the importance of ‘relational cultural capital’, which they define as investment in an ongoing relationship between parent and child that goes beyond economic capital (2010: 1).8 Relational cultural capital entails the engagement and promotion of cultural interests. Academic achievement and career aspirations are not only governed by teaching practices, but also influenced by practices in the home (Tramonte and Willms 2010: 3). Jamila passed on her love of learning to her daughter and, looking back, Amber realised that her mother’s efforts had shaped her future. Amber cherished the fond memories of her primary school when she lived in Bradford. Jamila was known

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to Amber’s teachers for taking a keen interest in her school life, attending parents’ evenings, sports days, open days, school performances and other school events. Amber felt that her teachers at her primary school had favoured her over other British-Pakistani children because she stood out, being smartly dressed and a good student. At the school gates Jamila was immaculately dressed, taking pride in her appearance and keeping her hair in the current fashion. Amber said that her family were not the same as other British-Pakistani families in Bradford because of their attitude to education, integration and differences in lifestyle. The other British-Pakistanis she came across in Bradford were more conservative and less inclined to relinquish the values and traditions they were raised with in Pakistan. The majority of Pakistanis in Bradford are a conservative community originating from the Mirpur district of Pakistan (Bolognani 2007: 60) and are known as Mirpuris. Most Mirpuris in the UK still continue the tradition of marriage to first cousins and have strong transnational ties to family back in Mirpur, thus creating a very bounded community, resistant to change in traditions, values and expectations (Shackle 2010).9 Amber’s family were one of the few Pakistanis families in Bradford who did not originate from Mirpur. The fact that Amber’s mother took a keen interest in her education, dressed well following both Pakistani and European fashion, and made sure that Amber always looked smart had bolstered her confidence. The love of fashion and style was an interest that both mother and daughter could bond over, particularly when Amber entered adolescence. They spent their leisure time shopping together and looking through style magazines. For Jamila, having a shared interest with her daughter was an investment in establishing a close and loving relationship. There was no school uniform at Amber’s primary school and unlike Amber, the other British-Pakistani children at her primary school were dressed in traditional Pakistani dress and their parents were less involved in their school life. In contrast to Amber’s family, many of the Pakistanis in Bradford were from a rural background in Pakistan. Amber’s family were urban, albeit also from a working-class background, and in Pakistan they were accustomed to a metropolitan lifestyle. This meant that in Pakistan Jamila and her family did not live in social isolation: they interacted with middleclass people daily, at school, in their neighbourhood, at work and socially. This is how Jamila and her family had become familiar with and begun to espouse middle-class traits such as placing importance on the value of education, speech, deportment, dress, aspirations and lifestyle. The fact

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that Amber’s family had been working-class in Pakistan was their drive: their aspirations and ambition enabled her family and relatives in both Britain and Pakistan to achieve socio-economic mobility. Amber’s parents’ generation in Britain and Pakistan had achieved financial success through business, bringing them up to middle-class status. They then made sure that their children maintained this status through education. While living in Bradford, the other British-Pakistani children at school played among themselves, but Amber played with other English children. She was the only British-Pakistani at her school to have birthday parties similar to those of her English friends, with party food such as sandwiches, crisps, cupcakes and a birthday cake, and children’s party games like ‘musical statues’ and ‘pass the parcel’. She was also the only BritishPakistani at school to be invited on play dates and to parties by the English children. Jamila felt that she was reaching out of her comfort zone to understand and engage with the world that her children lived in. Unlike the other women in Bradford, Jamila and the other mothers in my study expressed their love for their children by opening themselves to the world in which their children lived. Adopting certain British customs such as food, clothes and lifestyle was not only beneficial for the children’s wellbeing and belonging, but also impacted their self-esteem, giving them the confidence to set themselves high achievement goals. After a few years in Bradford, Amber’s father and his older brother had amassed enough capital to start their own business. They open a shop in Bradford selling Pakistani artefacts and books, some on Islam and written mainly in Urdu, but also some in English. With the success of this business in Bradford, Amber’s father decided to go solo and to open another branch in Manchester, and to move his family to Manchester. In spite of missing her family in Bradford, the move to Manchester gave Jamila greater access to social capital. There were more progressive and upwardly mobile Pakistanis to meet there than in Bradford, which expanded her social circle. Amber was twelve when her family moved to Manchester. She benefitted from this move because at her new school in Manchester, she made many British-Pakistani friends, due to similar values and lifestyle, unlike in Bradford. The British-Pakistani friends that Amber made at high school in Manchester were ambitious, and their parents also took a keen interest in their academic progress. As a teenager growing up in Manchester, Amber said that she was given more autonomy than the other British-Pakistani girls she knew. Being the only daughter, she was also doted upon by her father. Her father bought

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her a car when she passed her driving test at the age of 18, enabling her to meet up with friends in the evenings and weekends. The fact that her parents placed so much trust in her made her not want to abuse the freedom she was granted. The term ‘freedom’ came up many times in conversation with the women in my study and their mothers, in terms of their desire for freedom. Freedom meant autonomy and independence, and not everyone in the same family had access to it in the same way. Amber lived away from university at a time when it was not common for British-Pakistani girls to live away from home. It was common among first-generation Pakistanis to impose strict rules on their daughters because the fear of gossip was rife among that generation. Parents were fearful that their daughters being out at night might be a cause for gossip among people in their community and neighbourhood, as many lived in close proximity to other Pakistani families. For some, holding onto cultural identity such as dress codes and expectations equated to morality, and Westernisation, such as in dress and attitude, was frowned upon. Many scholars have observed that the function of gossip among British-Pakistani groups was to curb unapproved behaviour, particularly among young women, because they embody the family honour (Bolognani 2009: 156; Dwyer 2000: 478). These studies show that gossip and moral panic function as tools of social control, a pivotal means of monitoring the behaviour of young women (Dwyer 2000: 478). Gossip had a similar impact on the women in my study and functioned as a deterrent to curb certain behaviours and encourage the women to be discrete about their actions when they were growing up. Jamila claimed that a solid religious and cultural grounding from an early age meant that children would be less likely to abuse the freedoms they were given. This was common rhetoric among the women in my study. All the mothers I interviewed believed that the way to foster a close relationship with their children was through love, attention, and meeting their needs, and that chastising them only had negative consequences. Amber’s parents aimed to invest in their children emotionally and financially, which would in turn ensure their children’s loyalty to their family, culture and religion. Jamila felt that children who were estranged from their cultural and religious heritage and family were those whose parents were strict and had failed to understand the challenges that British-Pakistani children faced in trying to conflate two very different cultural conventions. Amber’s parents wanted to make this an easier task for their children, so they would not forgo their religious and cultural

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commitments under the pressure they faced. Also, by investing in the needs of their children, they knew that in return their children would be close to them and acknowledge the sacrifices their parents made to provide a better life for them. Jamila saw how the other Pakistani women in Bradford had not been ambitious and therefore did not pass on this zeal for learning and achievement to their children. She could not socialise with many Pakistani women in Bradford because they clung onto the values and ideas from the society they had left behind in Pakistan and did not think it was possible to conflate modernity with culture and religion. Jamila wanted her children to have the self-esteem and confidence to be contenders in British society and not to be marginalised through a lack of integration. She believed that it was possible to conflate Muslim, Pakistani and British customs. These were the ways that Jamila found to distance herself and her family from their working-class Pakistani neighbours in Bradford, and her aspirations had a direct impact on Amber. Amber credited her mother with her success and achievements in life. She stated that she would not have accomplished such success in her career as a solicitor if it not for her mother’s support and encouragement to do well at school. The fact that Jamila took a keen interest in her education helped her to excel at school and at university. Amber said that her mother placed importance on appearance in dress, career and independence to empower her daughter and to enable her to access social and cultural capital.

Gazala’s Mother Naheed Like Jamila, Naheed was poised, warm and welcoming. I sensed she was quiet by nature, but she opened up to me and was happy to share her life story. She saw me as a friend of her daughter’s and wanted to help in my research. I was taken aback by her kindness and generosity. We sat in the sitting room at the back of the house, which was neat and cosy with framed family photos and ornaments dotted around the room. Naheed served me lunch as soon as I arrived with Gazala. She had cooked chicken noodles and spring rolls from scratch. Gazala had told me that her mother enjoyed cooking for her family and her children’s friends. We chatted over lunch: Naheed was soft and deliberating in her speech as she unveiled her life story. Naheed and her husband had moved to Britain with their two infant sons in the late 1960s. They had moved for the same reasons as

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Amber’s parents, to take advantage of the job opportunities to pursue socio-economic mobility, and were also from an urban working-class background, like Amber’s family. They wanted to provide a stable future for their children, knowing that Britain had an excellent education system and that by exploiting this, their children would have a better chance to secure a good career. Unlike Amber’s parents, they were not part of a chain migration, and had no other relatives in Britain. Like many other Pakistanis couples who moved to Britain, her parents sent remittances to family back home to help improve their standard of living. Naheed was overwhelmed by loneliness and cultural difference in Britain. The only way she could cope with this was to focus her attention on her young family. Not having any other relatives in Britain, she devoted her time to her children and kept them close, to give them a sense of belonging in a country which was so unfamiliar to her. She invested time in her children, knowing that love and nurture would give them a solid grounding and strengthen their bond. Commitment to family was paramount to Naheed: Motherhood is like a full-time job. On a job, you cannot lapse or take breaks when you like. Same with raising children: you do it wholeheartedly with attention and dedication. If you don’t invest love, time and dedication, they will not be close to you or respect you. You have to look after them properly and care for them. Make sure their emotional needs are also met and sacrifice your own desires and feelings to keep your family close. (Interview, December 2013)

She dedicated her life to raising her six children and bestowed upon them the love and attention that she had craved as a child, because she had lost her mother at the tender age of six. While Naheed was loved and cared for by her maternal grandmother, it had not filled the void of losing her mother. When the children reached school age, Naheed learned to cook and bake the foods the children ate at school, and also learned to host children’s birthday parties like the other children at school had. Naheed told me that she expressed love and comfort through food: a common phenomenon as highlighted by D’Sylva and Beagan (2011: 286).10 Their study found that mothers expressed love to their children through food, which became a form of power to bring family together, to communicate and more importantly, to connect with loved ones (2011: 285–286).

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Naheed said that she became skilled in making dishes that she had never cooked or eaten before moving to Britain. From recipe books and experimenting with different recipes, she learned to cook pizza, pies, pasta, noodles and cakes. She explained to me that the experience of raising children grants mothers the skills of a chef and the knowledge of a doctor. Stepping out of their comfort zone by trying to understand their children’s world and experiences was a way for mothers to invest in their children, so that in return children would show love and loyalty to parents, and also respect their values. Naheed placed importance on emotional investment in children as a way to impart values, espousing a close relationship by listening to them and meeting their needs. She went on to say: The way you behave with children from a young age impacts their relationship with you when they are adults. You reap what you sow and if you invest love, affection, time, and patience in your children from a young age, they will reciprocate this love, trust and respect. Be a friend to your child, be close so they are able to talk to you and confide in you without feeling embarrassed or having the fear of consequences. (December 2013)

Being the eldest daughter, Gazala occupied a privileged position where she shared a relationship with her mother that was more akin to that of a friend and soul mate. This emotional bond created a strong relationship of love and devotion between mother and daughter. If Naheed needed advice she turned to Gazala, and also shared her inner thoughts, apprehensions and experiences with her. In cases where the needs of women who are the primary caregivers to young children are not met, because they are caring for others, they often project their lack of agency onto their young daughters, which enables their children, as they are growing up, to learn to understand the needs of others (Rastogi and Wampler 1999: 328).11 Gazala reflected on the period when she lived with her parents with great fondness. Mother and daughter looked forward to spending time in each other’s company, which they did by sharing household chores and interests such as baking and sewing, which also deepened the bond between mother and daughter. This enabled Gazala to get to know her mother as a person, beyond the maternal figure, which she was to her younger children. She also turned to her mother for advice and support, particularly now that her own children were entering adulthood. She appreciated the comfort and support she had received throughout

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her life from Naheed, who listened patiently when she needed someone to just listen to her. She was mindful of the fact that she could turn to her mother at any time for help and advice, and that her mother still looked out for the well-being of all her children, though they were adults and led independent lives. Gazala’s emotional needs were met by her mother, which gave her self-esteem and added to her well-being. However, Gazala had a lot less freedom to go out and socialise than her siblings. Older daughters lacked the freedom that their younger siblings enjoyed. This lack of freedom for older siblings equated to not being allowed to study or work away from home, being expected to agree to an arranged marriage, or having a curfew when they went out. She was the first-born daughter after two sons, and she also had two younger sisters and a younger brother. Gazala had declined an offer to study at university in London, knowing that her parents would not approve of her living away from home. This was a real concern for parents, as many studies have shown that while Muslim parents encourage their daughter’s education, they are also worried about the threat of external influences from the host country, such as pre-marital sex, drugs and alcohol, which they think is a preoccupation in British society (Shah and Iqbal 2011: 773–774). Shaw points out that parents were extremely worried about Western influences upon their children. Many Pakistanis look down on Western society because they think that sexual morality is lacking in the West. There is an assumption that women in the West dress provocatively to entice men, leaving them under the impression that Britain is a society of low moral standards from which they ought to protect their children (2000: 155). Ghaffar-Kucher’s research on Pakistani-American youth suggests that parents view Islam as a superior culture to ‘Americanisation’, which they see as spiritually and morally corrupt, and religion serves as a moral compass for everyday life. Instead of encouraging assimilation, they tried to recreate the homeland in the host country through imagined nostalgia (2014: 2–3). Even to compromise on these values seemed a threat and added to the fear that the cultural values they were raised with would become diluted, and eventually dissipate within a few generations. Gazala’s parents were still finding their way, living in Britain and trying to integrate without losing their values. Her older brothers were given more independence than her, and could go to concerts and parties, and stay out late. I discussed this with Naheed and she explained that cultural expectations were the reason why Gazala was given a lot less freedom

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than her brothers. Gender double standards in relation to boys and girls are commonplace among South Asian immigrants, and the behaviour of daughters is closely guarded by parents and the people they know within the ethnic community to which they belong (Nesteruk and Gramescu 2012: 42).12 Many authors have also noted that women are regarded as ‘keepers of culture’ in South Asian immigrant families. Gender double standards in relation to boys and girls seem to be the norm, and the reputation of the family rests on the behaviour of female family members. Patriarchal family traditions become a tool to construct gender hierarchy within the home and to establish boundaries to normalise women’s behaviour (Hennink et al. 1999; Malik 2009; Nesteruk and Gramescu 2012; Rajiva 2013). Rayaprol’s (2005: 138) study of Indian migrants in the United States showed that the pressure to conform to cultural traditions was placed on girls, whereas boys did not face such pressures. Similarly, in Dwyer’s study of diaspora identities among young British South Asian women, British-Pakistanis of Mirpuri decent were aware of gender roles and parents relied upon them to be the guardians of culture and religion (2000: 477). Even though my participants’ heritage was not from Mirpur, they nonetheless shared a similar viewpoint. The mothers I spoke to felt that there was a real threat of losing their cultural values in the host country, which is why gender expectations and pressure on women to conform to cultural traditions were so important to the first generation. Many of the mothers in my study imposed so many restrictions upon their elder daughters because they lacked experience of life in Britain and feared the unknown. Although Malik (2009) worked with the Pakistani diaspora in Australia, his work resonates with my own findings because both studies show that Pakistanis become more protective of their values in host countries. Malik notes that a concern shared by Pakistani migrants is that the norms and values that prevail in the West, such as blurred gender roles and sexuality, are antithetical and a threat to Pakistani patriarchal family values (2009: 174). Over time, familiarity with life in Britain eventually removed the threat that the unknown posed. In addition, having a network of Pakistanis around them, such as family and friends, had given parents the confidence to impose fewer restrictions on their children. As time went on, parents realised that being overly strict with their children would alienate them, which would have more serious consequences. For instance, overbearing behaviour, dominance and pressure from parents to force their children to espouse their cultural values created

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resentment, causing children to rebel and eschew their cultural heritage and ethnic identity (Su and Costigan 2009: 659).13 The mothers of the women had to tread that fine line and create a balance between the two tasks of keeping traditional values alive and trying to accommodate the new. Naheed gave into her youngest daughter by allowing her to move to London to work. She also realised that British-Pakistani women’s attitudes towards marriage were also changing, and that she could not expect her two younger daughters to have an arranged marriage or to look after their in-laws, knowing that her daughters were too independent to conform to certain cultural conventions, and that any pressure to do so would push them away from her. However, the fact that the attitudes of other British-Pakistani families around her were also rapidly changing gave her reassurance that she was not alone. She mentioned that her daughters’ ideas and values were shaped through the experiences they gained and the people they met at university and at work, which made it unrealistic and unfair to impose her values on them. Rytter notes that it becomes a problem when the generation gap between parents and their secondgeneration children widens as a result of their children’s academic and career achievements, and their lifestyles and ideas become very different from those of their parents as a consequence of social mobility (2013: 64). Naheed understood that it was better for British-Pakistani parents to grant their daughters more freedom to prevent the threat of alienating them. Gazala explained: Our generation has slowly influenced our parents: we are changing and influencing our parents’ views. And when we feedback to our parents our views, slowly it changes their views and sometimes it antagonises them. My mum was worried about my sisters - that they were not married yet. I told my mum, you never know it can still happen, it may not happen in the traditional way. Maybe the way you wanted my sisters to get married, they would have had to have a similar lifestyle to me, like having to deal with in-laws and the expectations, and maybe they couldn’t deal with that. The interesting thing that my mum said was that she had been thinking the same thing, and maybe they could not have handled the expectations that would have been there if they went down the route of traditional marriage. They had more freedom of thought and they had seen a lot of marriages, and they probably thought they did not want that for themselves. (December 2013)

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Gazala had a lot of respect and gratitude towards her mother for accepting the changes that were taking place around her, and for supporting her children in the decisions they made. Gazala realised that this was very difficult for her mother, particularly as her background and life experiences had been so different from those of her children. Firstly, Naheed had to step out of her comfort zone to recreate the food her children enjoyed at school and to host birthday parties for her children like those of their English school friends. Secondly, Naheed had to give in to the pressures of the society in which her children belonged, and to accept the life choices and decisions they made. Saying that, it was through patience and love that Naheed was also able to establish the values that were important to her and to keep her family close. She was able to strike a fine balance of maintaining certain values and expectations while compromising others, for the happiness of her children. Essentially, the mothers were negotiating values. To avoid the possibility of alienating their children through unrealistic and strict norms, the mothers kept the boundaries flexible. They were aware that their children were going to be influenced by the society they lived in, and in order to fit in, they had to adapt to some of the changes and norms of that society. Giving in to their children was not a failure on the part of the parents. Rather, they saw this as a form of negotiation: as a way of maintaining certain values and keeping the family close. Children expressed love towards their parents by showing them respect and having a close relationship with them. As the expectations of parents gradually changed, children tried to live up to those expectations and to stay within the boundaries, even if these boundaries were widening and changing over time.

Hina’s Mother Misbah Gazala was not only the person I spoke to who had been denied the independence that her other siblings had enjoyed. Hina’s upbringing was very similar to that of Gazala. Hina was the eldest in her family, and like Gazala she was given a position of respect and authority over her younger brothers and sister. The age gap between Hina and her siblings was small, but they still had to show her the utmost respect. For example, Hina stated that being the eldest, she was addressed as baji by her younger brothers and sister as a form of respect. Having this position of being called baji gave Hina authority over her siblings.14 Hina appreciated the position of authority her parents gave her. Both her parents listened to

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her opinions and sought advice from her. Hina played an active role in both her brothers’ weddings, not only in approving the bride but also in choosing the venue, guest list, menu, and other wedding and pre-wedding arrangements. I have mentioned that the mothers I spoke to were born and raised in Pakistan and came to Britain after getting married: Hina’s mother Misbah was the only exception. Misbah’s father was one of the first Pakistanis to settle in Manchester in the 1940s. Through chain migration more relatives came and settled in Manchester. Misbah was born in Manchester and grew up there for most of her childhood, spending a few years in Pakistan during her adolescence before returning. I was intrigued, because technically Misbah was second-generation British-Pakistani, but she was sheltered from Western influences growing up, and her values and upbringing were more akin to that of her contemporaries born and raised in Pakistan. For example, she was expected to stay at home after school and at the weekends, to socialise with family and to help with household chores instead of going out with friends. Misbah had not felt that she needed to be like her English peers at school who were going out, partying and dating, because she enjoyed her home life among siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, and embraced the values she was raised with. Misbah was ambitious and hard working at school and wanted to become a doctor but was unable to fulfil her ambition as she was married at her father’s request at the age of sixteen, after completing her O-levels. Sadly, her mother died when Misbah was an infant, and she was raised by her father and stepmother. Her father thought it was in her best interest to get her married as soon as possible, as she did not have a natural mother. He believed that his daughter would be fulfilled through her role as a wife and mother, instead of having to help raise her half-siblings who were a lot younger than her. Her father arranged her marriage with his close friend’s son who had moved from Pakistan to join the rest of his family in Manchester. Misbah’s husband had moved to England through chain migration to help in his older brother’s textile manufacturing business in Manchester. Misbah spoke about how the void created by the loss of her mother was filled through the love she received from her husband and children. But family life did not quench her thirst for knowledge. Instead, she was very involved in her children’s education as they grew up, reading to them and helping them with homework. She encouraged her children to work hard at school, particularly her two daughters, so that they would be financially independent, and also

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fulfil their ambitions through having a career which would open other opportunities to them. Although Misbah had a sheltered upbringing and was obedient to the elders in her family, she struck me as a vivacious and independent woman. She explained that now her children were all grown up, she looked forward to a life of travelling and fulfilling her dreams and ambitions. Misbah had a zest for life and felt her life was starting now, and even contemplated going back to further education. Misbah was 60 but felt and looked younger than her years. In the past, both Hina’s parents were influenced by the elders in Hina’s father’s family, particularly Hina’s eldest paternal uncle who lived close by and was the head of the family in Manchester, responsible for all the family’s decisions. Due to pressure from her eldest paternal uncle, Hina did not have the family’s permission to live away while at university. Her family expected her to get married as soon as she graduated in Chemistry from the University of Manchester. Misbah’s in-laws were very over-powering because her brother-in-law was not only the eldest in the family, but also wielded power through his wealth. He had set-up Hina’s father in Manchester, which meant that Hina’s parents felt a sense of obligation towards him. The family elders also included Hina’s grandparents in Pakistan. Asking for their approval and advice on family matters such as marriage was a sign of respect, and to reassure them of the continuation of family expectations such as hierarchy. Some of the mothers explained to me that their generation revered the elders in their family, as well as their older siblings. The elders were their parents, grandparents and uncles and aunts. Elders were very important among the first generation as they were the guardians of culture. Despite being in Pakistan, the women still sought their advice and did not make important family decisions without consulting them. Hina married her eldest paternal uncle’s son after graduating from university. Her paternal relatives made this decision because they thought it was a good marriage proposal, assuring Hina’s parents that their daughter would be well looked after, financially and emotionally, by her husband and in-laws. Hina’s parents went along with the decision, believing it would be in the best interest of their daughter, and as it was a decision made by the elders in the family whose opinion and approval mattered to them. A few years into her marriage, Hina realised it would never work because of irrevocable differences. Hina did not want to delve into the details of her marriage, as it was still upsetting to her even after so many years. It was only after Hina expressed her unhappiness

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in her marriage that her mother’s attitude changed dramatically. Misbah finally stood her ground and broke away from the control that her in-laws exerted over her. She could no longer fulfil the expectations of family and please them at the expense of her children. Hina explained that her mother’s change in attitude also influenced her father. Even though divorce was not taken lightly in Hina’s family, her parents were very supportive of her decision. It dawned on Misbah that although she was a devoted mother who spent her time nurturing her children, she had neglected their need for greater autonomy, and that the strict rules imposed by family were not working in her children’s best interests. Misbah felt a sense of relief and a new lease of life now that she was no longer blindsided by her in-laws and had the courage and autonomy to put the interests of her children above everything else. After the divorce, Hina moved back in with her parents for a few years, and her mother concentrated on helping Hina. During that period, Hina’s parents took responsibility for their three grandsons so that she could go back to university full-time to train to be a dentist. Even after Hina moved into her own home, her mother continued to support her with childcare and other domestic chores. Consequently, Hina’s younger sister, who was only a few years younger, was given considerably more freedom than Hina had been, because her parents had realised that the happiness of their children superseded expectations from family and society. They learnt from their experiences that certain expectations were unrealistic in the society they lived in and imposing such values could possibly alienate their children or have a negative impact on their wellbeing. Therefore, they granted their younger daughter permission to live an independent life in the United States. Hina’s younger sister was not put under pressure to get married, but her mother encouraged her to marry anyone for love, as long as they converted to Islam. Although I agree with Rytter (2012: 576), who argues that among Pakistani migrants, marriage is still considered family-centred and is a union of two families rather than the union of the bride and groom, most women in my study were moving away from this idea and expected their children to find their own marriage partner. Attitudes towards marriage had changed dramatically for the different generations in the women’s circle. Exposure to Western culture and society influenced the values of immigrant parents, and over time they became more accepting of Western dating and marriage traditions, enabling the second generation to choose potential marriage partners for themselves (Nesteruk and Gramescu 2012: 43).

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Hina realised that life had not been easy for her mother, bringing up children while living up to the demands and expectations of her in-laws. Hina became even closer to her mother after her own marriage broke down. The fact that Misbah stood up to her in-laws, whose shadow she had lived under for many years, was a testimony of her love and sacrifice to Hina. Hina’s unhappiness in her marriage was a turning point for Misbah, a realisation that she had to forgo certain traditions for the well-being of her children. Without Misbah’s physical and emotional support, Hina knew she would not have achieved her qualifications and success in her career. To Hina, her mother was her best friend, someone she confided in, who understood her, and was a source of support and strength. Misbah’s patience, resilience, sincerity and devotion solidified this mother–daughter bond.

Farah’s Mother Khalida I was eager to meet Khalida as I had heard so much about her, and I knew she was pivotal in Farah’s life. Khalida had been widowed for over 10 years. The death of her husband was a devastating blow to the family: it had been unexpected as he was young and healthy. Soon after the tragic loss of her beloved husband, she had suffered a major stroke that left her severely disabled and dependent on care. Khalida lived in an apartment in central Manchester which she shared with her son, and his wife and children. I accompanied Farah to visit her mother, and we received a warm welcome at the door from her brother and his wife. The apartment was a new-build and open plan, and the narrow hallway led to the bedrooms and living area. We were led into the living room, which opened up into the dining area and kitchen. Khalida was sitting in her wheelchair watching old family videos on the large-screen plasma TV attached to the wall. Despite being infirm, she still took pride in her appearance. She wore a black chiffon blouse and comfortable black trousers, her hair was tied neatly in a bun and her nails were manicured and varnished. Farah leant over to greet her mother and kissed her on her cheek. Khalida then stretched out her arm to greet me. She seemed very happy to see Farah and I. Farah’s mother was as warm and welcoming as I expected, and she was looking forward to contributing towards my research. Amber’s family knew Farah’s family and her in-laws very well, and Amber had told me that Farah’s parents were very well known among British-Pakistanis in Manchester. Her parents had been very sociable and

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were part of an extensive social circle in Manchester. Through her parents’ connections, Farah and her sister knew many British-Pakistani families and had established close friendships with other British-Pakistanis. Khalida was a vivacious woman, just as I had envisaged. Khalida and her husband came from a privileged background: her father was a successful judge and was well known in Lahore. Growing up, her parents constantly entertained guests, and she enjoyed being around people and the glamour of dressing up for parties. Farah’s parents moved to Britain in the late 1960s, just after getting married. Her father came as a postgraduate student, as did many of their close friends and family who migrated during the same period in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Farah’s parents wanted to recreate the atmosphere of back home. At that time, the Pakistani community in Manchester was small, and news soon spread among those who had already settled that a new couple had arrived. Very quickly, they got to know several Pakistani families, and at the weekends they hosted dinner parties for their new friends and their relatives who had accompanied them from Pakistan. Farah’s parents became well known for their hospitality and were soon very popular among British-Pakistanis in Manchester. Farah’s father also liked to socialise and entertain, enjoying the excitement of having people around. Their weekends were busy, as they were either invited to dinner parties or hosting dinner parties themselves. Through food, music, clothes and company they were re-creating a little of what they had left behind in Pakistan. Khalida did not experience the loneliness and isolation expressed by the other women I spoke to. Farah drew my attention to a home video of one of her parties when she was a teenager. I had heard from Amber that Farah and her sister Zara were very popular among British-Pakistanis in Manchester when they were young and were known to host the best parties. Watching the video evoked poignant memories, overcoming Farah and her mother with emotion. Farah’s brother’s wife, who was preparing lunch, joined us. She told me that her mother-in-law enjoyed watching home videos, particularly the ones of Farah and her sister Zara’s parties. Khalida explained that she watched the videos to relive the time when she was independent and able-bodied, the matriarch of the house caring for her children and husband, and she sighed and lamented that she missed that period in her life terribly. In the video, Farah, Zara and their British-Pakistani friends were all dressed in their finest shalwar kameez, looking glamorous with hair and makeup done for the party. The video showed the sisters and their friends

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dancing to Asian pop music. These parties were an opportunity for Farah and Zara to get together with their friends, dress up and have fun, and more importantly to engage in and celebrate their cultural heritage in an exciting way through food, music and clothes. Khalida explained that it was critical to make culture appealing, and it was not fair to deprive British-Pakistani youth of fun, otherwise they would resent their cultural and religious upbringing and yearn to engage in the same activities as their English friends, which conflicted with their cultural and religious values. Essentially, Khalida had created a social space which Werbner describes as ‘diasporic spaces of identity’, thus focussing on the shared celebrations and communal values which unite British-Pakistanis (Werbner 2013: 411). According to Khalida, hosting these parties when her children were young was a very important way of belonging in Britain, and a way to connect with their cultural heritage. Socialising among British-Pakistani friends meant that Farah and her sister did not feel the pressure to conflate two often conflicting and contradictory identities. Khalida pointed at the screen as the camera was on the food. She proudly said that she had prepared all the food on the table: the roast chicken, samosas, assortments of kebabs, pasta, selection of salads and several desserts such as trifle, cheesecake and chocolate cake. Food for the women in my study was an expression of love, a way of bringing family and friends together, and a marker of cultural heritage. Culture is created, perpetuated and endorsed by women and transmitted through food, stories and networks within the domestic sphere: therefore it was not surprising that Khalida wanted to show us the food she had made.15 South Asian identities were celebrated among friends, as illustrated in the video we were watching. Cultural and religious values were also paramount for Khalida. Not living among other Pakistanis was the impetus for Farah’s parents to try to expose their children to Pakistani culture and, more importantly, to instil a strong Pakistani and Muslim identity. Khalida and her family lived far away from their friends, and there were no other Asian families living nearby. Farah and her siblings had been the only Asian children at their primary and secondary schools. The fact that they lived in a predominantly white neighbourhood meant that it was important to Khalida to make sure that her family socialised with other Pakistanis on a regular basis. Khalida inculcated her children with cultural and religious values from a very young age, so that they would embrace this identity and not be confused or abandon the values instilled at home. Her children learned

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to read the Quran in Arabic, and the obligatory Islamic prayers from their paternal grandmother who had lived with them when they were young. Khalida spoke to her children in Urdu and constantly reminded them of their cultural and religious expectations. She regularly took her daughters to khatham Quran at friends’ houses, as a way of passing cultural and religious knowledge on to her daughters.16 Farah and her siblings were required to fulfil certain obligations, such as accompanying their parents every weekend to visit their parents’ Pakistani friends. Khalida explained: It is important to be in tune with children when they are growing up and be aware of the challenges they face. As a mother, it is important to be quick thinking, use your brain and show empathy, and put yourself in their shoes to understand what they are feeling. If culture and identity is strong in the home, there is no threat: the children will be fine in the outside world and will have the confidence to overcome challenges. It is important to assess each child’s personality, look at them as individuals, and bring them up according to their personality and needs. (November 2013)

This approach of instilling obligation to family aims to keep children close within the fold of the family, and to slow down the process of acculturation (Su and Costigan 2009: 655). As well as instilling a strong religious and cultural identity in her children, Khalida was mindful that her children were interested in popular British culture, and she did not want to deny them this. Like the other mothers I interviewed, she was able to pass on the values and expectations important to her through love and investing time in her children. Farah’s parents had taken their children once a week to the cinema and to a restaurant of their choice. This was their way of engaging with their children’s interests and creating close bonds and trust through investing time in their children. Farah told me that she felt very lucky to have an open relationship with her mother, and that she could approach her mother to seek advice on any topic. She was proud that her mother had stepped out of her comfort zone to understand the world that Farah and her siblings lived in. Khalida invested in Farah and her other children by devoting time to them, asking them about their day when they came home from school, and taking an interest in popular culture to feel connected to her children. Farah enjoyed her mother’s company, her vivaciousness and zest for life. She looked up to her mother as an example of how to balance a work/home

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life: working in retail customer services, she had maintained her children as her priority. Khalida maintained a happy and nurturing environment at home, which Farah appreciated. I watched Farah speak lovingly and gently to her mother. She held Khalida’s hand tenderly, and softly asked her about her appointments that she needed to take her to. I was moved watching Farah speaking to her mother with such patience, love and affection. Farah found it painful to imagine what her mother would be like if she had not had the stroke and was living a full and independent life: working, socialising and taking care of her grandchildren. As we left the apartment, Farah said that it made Khalida very happy that I had come, because she looked forward to having guests. She explained that the disability had made her mother very isolated and lonely, particularly when prior to the stroke she had been very independent, having a career and a busy social life. Now friends seldom visited, and she had become dependent on others. Farah explained that she wanted to bring her children up exactly in the same way as her parents had. She was inspired by her mother’s ability to conflate religious values, culture and worldly interests, illustrating to Farah that she did not have to sacrifice her religious and cultural values in order to have fun and to integrate into British society. Khalida was her role model, and Farah realised that her parents had devoted their life to their children: her mother had taken the time and effort to establish a family life that would bring her children happiness and security. Gratitude was also expressed through loyalty and commitment to faith and cultural heritage, which was fundamental to the first-generation Pakistani migrants. On becoming parents themselves, the women realised the salience of cultural and religious values and the desire to pass these on to their children, recognising the threat of these values being eroded by the conflicting values and behaviour prevalent in the West.

Conclusion The love and sacrifice from the mothers led to their daughters being able to improve their chances and further their social, cultural and economic capital. Therefore, even if the mothers felt that they had not fulfilled their own ambitions for higher education, their love of learning was not in vain as it enabled them to take an interest and be involved in their children’s education. The support given by the mothers instilled their children with the self-belief and confidence to fulfil their own ambitions and career

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goals. This was a family project on the part of the parents, providing opportunities for their children that they themselves had never had. For the mothers, their daughters acquiring socio-economic mobility through education and career would be a positive reflection on the family and set a precedent for other siblings to reach their potential. Financial independence from their husband’s family gave them the autonomy to live a life they chose, and to only carry out the social obligations that they wanted to. Financial independence gave the women the power to make choices and select the cultural conventions that earned them capital, and to overlook those that were constraining. The following chapter investigates the social role of a dutiful daughterin-law. As mentioned in this chapter, mothers have imparted certain values onto their daughters to make sure not only that their daughters are successful and independent women in their own right through their personal achievements and career, but also represent their family positively through their behaviour and conduct with others. For the women, status and recognition among in-laws was a direct reflection of their upbringing. Therefore, it was critical for the women to behave in a manner that would be a positive reflection of their upbringing, through the values and expectations passed down by their own mothers.

Notes 1. There were parallels between my own study and that of Yoo and Kim (2010: 170), who studied second-generation Korean immigrants in America. Second-generation Korean immigrants in their study cared for their aged parents out of a sense of duty and gratitude for the sacrifice and hardship that their parents had endured to provide a better life for their children. 2. Rajiva’s (2013) study of diasporic family life among second-generation South Asian women in Canada. 3. Tao and Hong’s (2014) study of Chinese-American students. 4. Teney, Devleeshouwer and Hanquinet’s studies of educational aspirations among ethnic minority groups in Brussels show that the children of mothers with high levels of education have higher educational aspirations than those whose mothers are less educated (2013: 594), however my findings went against this. 5. Ahmad’s (2001, 2012) study of academic achievement among British South Asian women.

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6. Werbner’s study of British-Pakistanis in Manchester notes that there was a demand for cheap unskilled labour in the aftermath of the Second World War to help rebuild the British industries (1990: 5–6). 7. Chain migration refers to a process whereby a migrant already working and settled in Britain sponsors a relative to emigrate to Britain. Once the relative has settled and found work, they can also sponsor other relatives (Shaw 1988: 22). 8. Tramonte and Willms’ (2010) study on the effects of cultural capital in education. 9. Mirpur is a rural area and relied on subsistence farming. Many Mirpuris emigrated to Britain in the 1960s, settling mainly in Northern towns in England. It is the least developed area in Pakistan, and was the last to be connected to the electricity network (Shackle 2010). 10. D’Sylva and Beagan’s (2011) study of Goan immigrants in Canada. 11. According to Eichenbaum and Orbach (1988) in Rastogi and Wampler’s (1999: 328) comparative study of adult daughters’ relationships with their mothers among South Asians and Mexicans in the USA. 12. Nesteruk and Gramescu’s (2012) study on dating and the selection of potential marriage partners among ethnic minority groups in the United States. 13. Cheng and Kuo’s (2000) study of Chinese immigrants in the United States (Su and Costigan 2009: 659). 14. The Bedouins in Abu-Lughod’s (2000: 80) study also espouse hierarchical relationships such as older siblings having precedence over younger ones. 15. Afshar, Aiken and Franks note that among first-generation Pakistani women, hospitality and food were an integral part of their culture and networking (2006: 175). 16. Khatham Quran means the completion of the Quran. This religious ritual involves the host inviting female guests to her house, to read a chapter each form the Quran, completing the full recitation of the Quran in one sitting. After the Quran is completed, food is served to the guests (Werbner 1990: 256). Khatham Quran is held as a thanksgiving and to reap blessings for hosting the event, and also for reading the Quran (Werbner 1990: 258).

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Teney, C., Devleeshouwer, P., & Hanquinet, L. (2013). Educational aspirations among ethnic minority youth in Brussels: Does the perception of ethnic discrimination in the labour market matter? A mixed-method approach. Ethnicities, 13(5), 584–606. Tramonte, L., & Willms, D. (2010). Cultural capital and its effects on education outcomes. Economics Education Review, 29, 200–213. Werbner, P. (1990). The migration process: Capital, gifts and offerings among British Pakistanis. Oxford: Berg. Werbner, P. (2013). Everyday multiculturalism: Theorising the difference between ‘intersectionality’ and ‘multiple identities’. Ethnicities, 13(4), 401– 419. Yoo, G. J., & Kim, B. W. (2010). Remembering sacrifices: Attitude and beliefs among second-generation Korean Americans regarding family support. Journal of Cross-Cultural Gerontology, 25, 165–181. Zhou, M. (2000). Social capital in Chinatown: The role of communitybased organisations and families in adaptation of the younger generation. In M. Zhou & J. V. Gatewood (Eds.), Contemporary Asian America: A multidisciplinary reader (pp. 315–335). New York: New York University Press. Zhou, M. (2005). Ethnicity as social capital: Community-based institutions and embedded networks of social relations. In G. Loury, T. Modood, & S. Teles (Eds.), Ethnicity, social mobility and public policy: Comparing USA and UK (pp. 131–159). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zhou, M., & Bankston, C. L. (1994). Social capital and the adaptation of the second-generation: The Vietnamese youth in New Orleans. International Migration Review, 28(4), 821–845.

CHAPTER 5

The Social Role of a Dutiful Daughter-in-Law

Each relationship serves a purpose for the women. Their relationship with in-laws was a topic that seemed to crop up in conversation most of the time. This relationship was an important part of the women’s life whether it was their own in-laws, themselves contemplating becoming in-laws in the future, or their own parents’ role as in-laws to others. Family meant a closeness that was established through obligation and love, not only between kin but also between affine. In the previous chapter and in this chapter, I focus on the pivotal role of family not only as a means of belonging, but also as a way to amass moral capital and agency. Here I investigate the social role of a daughter-in-law, which works in favour of the women. Playing the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law earned them status, recognition and belonging. Furthermore, as mentioned in the previous chapter, family is critical for instilling their values and prevailing identities, which will also be discussed in the following chapters. Early on in their marriage, most of the women had carried out the obligation of establishing a relationship with their in-laws. Some of the women still lived with in-laws, while others had lived with their in-laws for the first few years of marriage or had been expected to live under the authority of their in-laws early on in their marriage. Even if they now lived with their own nuclear family, they were not absolved from obligations to their in-laws. This meant that they observed the pattern of family hierarchy whereby the mother-in-law had significant influence over © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_5

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the decision-making and life of the daughter-in-law. According to the women, putting the needs of their in-laws above their own and of their parents and siblings was crucial in the early years of marriage. During this period, they had to invest a lot in building relations with in-laws and to work very hard to earn their respect. The husband also expected his wife to be respectful and obedient to his parents, as his loyalty lay with his family and not with his wife’s, so building ties with in-laws was imperative for establishing a strong marital relationship. Looking back, the women had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, they harboured resentment towards their in-laws because it made what was supposed to be a blissful period of one’s life, the early years of marriage, quite stressful; they were hampered by having to observe this cultural obligation and constantly having their behaviour judged. On the other hand, they argued that with hindsight this was a tradition that they would like to pass down to the next generation because it instilled certain values such as respect for elders, respect for family and the importance of a close-knit family.

Family Hierarchies This chapter highlights the specific relationship that women developed with their in-laws, underpinning the relationship between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law and the significance of the role of a ‘dutiful daughter-in-law’ in Pakistani culture. Marriage expectations among Pakistanis are very different in comparison to the idea of marriage that prevails in most Western cultures. Unlike marriages in Western societies where spouses are meant to take care of each other and their children, marriage in Pakistani culture involves a chain of caring and responsibility, firstly between the son and his parents, and in turn between daughters-in-law and parents-in-law. Therefore, it is critical in Pakistani culture for a son to marry a woman who will be a good daughter-in-law to his parents (Jibeen and Hynie 2012; Rytter 2010; Werbner 1990). Women are socialised from a young age to adapt to their husband’s households (Charsley 2005: 85). Traditionally, South Asian women are expected to integrate into their husband’s family, take care of household chores, and care for elderly relatives (Joly and Wadia 2017: 170, 171–172). Shaw (2000) looks in great detail at the role of and expectations on daughters-in-law in her study of British-Pakistanis living in Oxford.

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Although her research took place over 30 years ago, with predominantly working-class first-generation Pakistanis, some of the issues that Shaw raises in her study resonate with my own research. Shaw (2000: 94) draws attention to the fact that British-Pakistani women seldom have a choice in their roles as a daughter, daughter-in-law, mother and motherin-law. Each member of the family has a designated role, which is strongly defined by gender and age. In their study of Canadian-Pakistanis, Jibeen and Hynie (2012) show that the family structure obeys a hierarchy in which older members have power over younger women: for example a new bride is usually under the authority of her mother-in-law and must also be subservient to her father-in-law, older brothers-in-law and their wives, and also to older sisters-in-law. Even if at times some obligations to her in-laws are resented by the bride, these obligations must take precedence because they garner respect and recognition from elders, which is why it is not worth the risk of neglecting the expectations of a dutiful daughter-in-law, and being dishonoured as a consequence. Being a young daughter-in-law, the women emphasised, requires patience and perseverance. Similar to my own findings, Song and Zhang’s (2012) study of in-laws in China shows that in Chinese culture, older family members such as the mother-in-law amass greater status and power than younger family members such as the daughter-in-law. The duty of the daughter-in-law is to be obedient and respectful to elders. Senior members of the family who have lived up to their duties, responsibilities and the expectations upon them are able to garner power and recognition (Song and Zhang 2012: 59). Similarly, Rytter (2013: 94) notes that within a patrilocal system, newly married couples reside with the groom’s parents. A patrilocal system promotes family hierarchies and establishes the daughter-in-law as subservient to her mother-in-law until she obtains power upon reaching the status of a mother-in-law herself, allowing her to assert authority over her own daughter-in-law. The success of this system rests on the fact that women are aware that the sacrifices they make are not in vain, as they come to fruition once they themselves become a mother-in-law and hence acquire a position of respect, power and authority (Rytter 2010: 55). However, the difference was that in my study, the subservient status of daughters-in-law was temporary. The women pointed out that in-laws espoused a laid-back attitude once they got to know their daughter-inlaw, and trust had been established. The women did not have to wait until becoming a mother-in-law themselves: power was earned gradually

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through gaining the trust, respect and recognition of their in-laws, as they got to know one another. Over the years, daughters-in-law gradually garner autonomy and authority, such as having a greater role in managing the household she shares with her in-laws and in decisionmaking involving family matters (Shaw 2000: 95). This was clear in my study and the research conducted by other scholars in recent years on Pakistani migrants (Jibeen and Hynie 2012; Rytter 2010, 2012, 2013; Shaw 2000; Werbner 1990). The obligation to provide financially for parents and to take care of them is incumbent upon the son, whereas the responsibility for day-to-day care falls on the daughter-in-law. Among Pakistani migrants, marriage is still recognised as family- centred (Rytter 2012: 576). Pakistani migrants place value on this cultural expectation that endorses marriage as the union of two families rather than the union of the bride and groom. More importantly, the behaviour of women towards their in-laws has ramifications for close family. For instance, mothers set an example for their children, and the way that women behave towards their in-laws sends messages to their children about respect, belonging and how to behave with family (Rytter 2010: 55). According to Werbner (1990: 233), alliances between families overrule individual alliances, such as the relationship between husband and wife.

Dutiful Daughters-in-Law Living with in-laws meant sharing domestic chores such as cooking and housekeeping, socialising with in-laws and hosting family dinners. Those who did not have to adhere to a patrilocal system of living with their in-laws were still obliged to fulfil certain expectations, such as having to devout their leisure time to their in-laws, particularly in the first few years of marriage: having family dinners with in-laws at the weekend, and entertaining the friends and relatives of in-laws. The women explained that while these expectations diminished over time, it was still the responsibility of daughters-in-law to accompany ill or elderly in-laws to hospital or GP appointments and to take care of in-laws if they were ill. It was also incumbent upon daughters-in-law to take an active role on important occasions and rites of passage such as religious celebrations, weddings, funerals and mourning rituals. While the women’s views regarding their obligations to their in-laws was beginning to change, the second-generation women in my study were still very much involved

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with the family relationships and expectations implied in their role as daughters-in-law. On one occasion while chatting with Serena, she explained that it disappointed her that the younger generation failed to appreciate having a close bond with their in-laws. She pointed out that this was very much a ‘generation thing’: I have a friend who’s been married for over 20 years and has been very good to her in-laws, being very dutiful and accommodating her in-laws, and now she feels she has earned her place in her in-laws. We agreed upon this that there is a new generation coming up now who haven’t got a clue, and actually, they don’t care. They don’t care about pleasing their in-laws and making a name for themselves in the family. It is a generation thing. Making a name means that for example when I joined Nadeem’s [Serena’s husband] family, I knew there was a certain role for me: I was the new daughter-in-law. I was expected to help round the house when I visited, expected to be available if in-laws needed to go to appointments. I was expected to behave as a daughter-in-law would: hold their respect when meeting other members of the family, and I knew that there was certain role and I needed to show Nadeem’s mum and dad that I was a really good wife and I am working really hard looking after their son, and I am there for them. In our generation, we were brought up to please other people around us, please our parents, please our in-laws, and please everyone around us. Certain roles became second nature to us. This generation now don’t please their own parents, they are too busy doing what they think is right for them: they are definitely not going to please the in-laws! For in-laws, now to think a new daughter in-law is going to come in and bend over backwards like we did for ours, I think we are in cloud cuckoo land if we think that is going to happen! (November 2012)

Serena was alluding to the fact that ‘making a name’ was key: a position that had to be cultivated and required being under the intense scrutiny of in-laws and their close friends and relatives. She mentioned that the actions of the daughter-in-law reflected heavily on their upbringing, and a good reputation among her in-laws made parents proud that their daughter had brought them honour. By doing this, the daughter-in-law was gaining a positive reputation not only among her affine and blood relatives, and but also among the community or social circle her family or affine associated with, which earned the daughter-in-law social capital. Social capital in this situation could be construed as moral capital because one of the rewards of being a dutiful daughter-in-law was a revered status,

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one which not only earned respect and recognition, but one which also served as an example for and role model to other women. This moral capital enabled women to cast judgement on other women in their role as daughters-in-law. Thus, after many years of marriage, the fear that coerced women into playing the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law was no longer there. Instead, ‘making a name’ and with it, moral capital, becomes a strategy to appropriate power and control, as there is much to gain from harnessing this position. According to the women, the daughter-in-law’s good reputation reflected on the mother-in-law, showing her to be a good judge of character in choosing a ‘good wife’ for her son, or in raising a son who has the ability to recognise a woman of good character who would not only be an asset to him, but also to his family.1 Serena brought my attention to how the roles of mother-in-law and daughter-in-law transcended social class within Pakistani culture. Serena knew many British-Pakistanis from different class backgrounds who shared similar cultural values and expectations of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. Her parents and in-laws were of different class backgrounds but held very similar values when it came to marriage. These cultural values and expectations were embodied, socialised and learned in the home from an early age, therefore seeing them slowly dying out was akin to mourning a loss because these values were inherent to their Pakistani identity, morality and upbringing. Talking to Amber about her husband’s sister-in-law, it became apparent that Pakistani identity was not exclusively associated with the idea of an ethnic group but was more about the values that one espoused. Diane was married to Amber’s husband’s older brother, and the fact that she was white British did not mean that she could not earn the position of a dutiful daughter-in-law. The rules that applied to Pakistani daughtersin-law also applied to non-Pakistani women who married Pakistani men. Therefore, just as the other daughters-in-law had done, Diane was expected to live with her in-laws, which she did for several years. While she lived with them, she took on the responsibility of accompanying them to hospital and to GP appointments. During that time, she also adopted the cultural practices of her in-laws and participated in religious and cultural rituals, as well as learning to speak Urdu. The fact that Diane was English and willing to embrace the values of her in-laws earned her social capital among her in-laws. Social capital enabled the women not only to garner agency, but also to establish close bonds with their in-laws, which also

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meant that in-laws in turn felt loyalty and affection towards a dutiful daughter-in-law, looking upon her favourably, and overlooking flaws or misdemeanours. This also exemplified the fluidity of Pakistani identity, and more importantly, it was not restricted to the concept of an ethnic group or one’s heritage. Identity is porous, thus allowing someone from a ‘different racial category’ to belong. Belonging in this case was essentially about values: an ongoing process about maintaining relationships. Behaving in a certain way, the desire to belong in a particular way, and espousing specific values all contribute to an exclusive identity—here a Pakistani identity. Although Diane was of English heritage, being a dutiful daughter-in-law and adhering to the cultural expectations of a British-Pakistani daughter-inlaw meant that she was seen as a Pakistani. Being a dutiful daughter-in-law was very much a cultural expectation among South Asians, therefore subservience, obedience and respect to one’s in-laws earned moral and social capital and were virtues within Pakistani culture that were given value and passed down through the generations. Diane’s heritage was not important because she not only fulfilled the religious and cultural obligations of a British-Pakistani woman, but exceeded these expectations by being a dutiful daughter-in-law, which made her an indispensable member of the family. Earning herself a good reputation among her in-laws and their friends was more important than her ethnic background because, in this case, being Pakistani was not about race but about upholding certain values and attributes. Amber explained that her husband was the youngest child, making her the youngest daughter-in-law among her affine. The bar was set high for Amber, as the other daughters-in-law were dutiful towards the inlaws, keeping the family close—which earned them respect. Within the family hierarchy, she had to show the utmost respect and obedience to her husband’s older sisters. For Amber, being British-Pakistani, having been socialised into Pakistani culture from birth, her in-laws expected her to put their interests above her own and to live with them, and to devote her leisure time to them at the expense of her friends and family: I was in a cocoon of being with in-laws and couldn’t see life beyond that bubble. I was consumed by it, completely consumed by his family. (April 2013)

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Amber found these obligations towards her in-laws in the first few years of marriage challenging, and sometimes overwhelming. At the start of her marriage, her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law conditioned her to feel guilty when visiting her own parents, by being cold and aloof every time she returned from visiting her family. They resented Amber devoting time to her parents instead of them, but as they got to know and trust Amber, their demands and expectations eventually receded completely, and they became accommodating and empathetic towards her. More importantly, the fact that she invested time in her in-laws by participating in their lives and treated them with respect gained her acceptance. After some years of marriage, Amber and the other women developed genuine affection towards their in-laws and reached a positive mutual understanding. Unlike Amber, despite forging bonds with in-laws some of the women were still not as relaxed among affine as they were with their own parents and siblings. They felt that they had to keep up certain appearances that complied with this model of a good daughter-in-law. Their presence among their in-laws was more akin to a performance that could translate at times to a lack of comfort. This façade was engendered in the early stages of marriage as a response to the probing eyes and scrutiny of in-laws, which was intimidating, and it eventually became a habit that was difficult to break. By behaving too casually or being caught off guard in the presence of their in-laws, the women did not want to risk shattering the image of a dutiful daughter-in-law that they had worked so hard to create. At the beginning of her marriage Farah, for example, helped her mother-in-law host dinner parties for friends and family. She was a good host to relatives who came from abroad to stay with her in-laws, and she also socialised with her husband’s relatives who lived close by. She explained how, at the start of her marriage, things had not been easy between her and her in-laws: You try and live a double life when you first get married and live with in-laws. You’re trying to explain yourself and trying to justify yourself all the time. You always want to impress them and do things right in front of them and I don’t know why. And it does annoy you if they make a comment about what you are doing with your children, but it’s OK if your mum says the same thing. It takes time to get used to in-laws, and eventually me and my mother-in-law met halfway. It took a good few years for her to have the confidence in me. I wouldn’t want my daughter to live

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with in- laws. But I would not say that to her, and I would make sure she held the highest respect for her in-laws. (October 2012)

Amber mentioned that Farah had faced a great deal of responsibility because not only did she live with her in-laws, but her in-laws belonged to a very close-knit family who lived on the same street. Amber knew a lot about Farah’s life, as her parents were acquainted with Farah’s inlaws and mother. Farah had also told me that she faced competition from her husband’s female relatives, because the presence of so many women resulted in the women competing for greater success in personal style, cooking and hosting. Amber claimed that living in a close-knit family, this kind of pressure was unavoidable. Saying that, most of the women I spoke to welcomed a degree of competitiveness, as it was an opportunity to demonstrate their skills while also garnering moral capital within the family. Farah explained that her in-laws showed appreciation and had genuine affection towards her, and this was expressed in small gestures such as giving Farah privacy when her friends visited. While she was happy for her in-laws to be present, they insisted on retreating to their bedroom when she invited guests over, to give her space. There were other benefits to forging a positive relationship with one’s in-laws. It enabled Farah to socialise in the evening with friends because her in-laws took care of her children while she was out. Therefore, she has established a relationship of mutual respect with her in-laws, where they were also happy to make small sacrifices to accommodate Farah and to consider her wellbeing and happiness. Arguably, living together allows people to negotiate rules, which also becomes easier as trust develops, and bonds are solidified with newcomers into the family. For most of the women, belonging with in-laws was not only about obligations, but about love, care and moral capital. Unlike kin, love among in-laws was gradual—it had to be earned. It was a process that was painstaking in the early years of marriage. Love was the result of a struggle on the part of the women and judgement on the part of their in-laws. The goal was not simply the achievement of capital (moral or cultural), but rather a loving relationship that allowed the women to feel that they belonged to the in-law extended family and to profit from the benefits that come with it. Albeit difficult at times, this relationship, and the context that surrounded it (the extended family ruled by a patriarchal system/culture), is not only about obligations and fixed expectations, but also about creating a sense of belonging through mutual love and caring.

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Altruism and Antagonism While the attitudes of the mothers-in-law towards the women had improved considerably over the years, the women still found it difficult to overcome the discrimination they had faced from their in-laws early on in their marriage. I accompanied Syrah, Amber, Laila, and their friend Natasha to lunch hosted by their friend Iman, who had also invited me.2 I knew Iman independently from the rest of the women, we had become friends through meeting at our children’s primary school. As we chatted over lunch at Iman’s house, Laila recalled the early days of her marriage when she went on umrah with her in-laws, and how they created a fuss at the hotel where they stayed because Laila and her husband had decided to have breakfast alone instead of joining her husband’s parents and his siblings.3 It had annoyed Laila that her in-laws had failed to take into consideration the needs of the newlyweds to want privacy and not to be overwhelmed by family. The other women listened with interest as it evoked their own grievances with their in-laws. They made the point that if mothers-in-law treated their daughters-in-law with consideration from the start, they would have earned a lot more respect and loyalty from their daughters-in-law. The women agreed among themselves that they were not going to be as short-sighted as their own in-laws and would not have unreasonable expectations and demands. They understood that the next generation of British-Pakistanis would be reluctant to uphold patrilocal values, and therefore they could not expect that they would be taken care of by their son’s wives in old age. The rules on how to behave as a dutiful daughter-in-law were never fixed and could be interpreted in different ways. Even though the women have all been married for many years and have overcome the difficulty of the early years, they still grappled with different aspects of the relationship. Therefore, they often shared their problems and sought advice from friends during social gatherings such as lunches and coffee mornings. One’s in-laws seemed to be a popular topic of conversation on these occasions. During lunch at Iman’s house, Syrah told them how her mother-in-law had recently been widowed and had moved in with her. Despite the benefits of additional help with childcare, cooking and the school run, having her mother-in-law living under the same roof posed unexpected dilemmas. Syrah was in the process of booking her first family holiday since her mother-in-law had moved in with her and was not sure whether to invite her mother-in-law and asked her friends

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for their opinion. Syrah did not want to risk damaging relations with her in-laws by not inviting her mother-in-law, particularly if her mother-inlaw was expecting an invitation. The women discussed how they seldom faced such pressures among close kin such as parents, because misunderstandings were quickly resolved and, in their experience, bonds with affine were not as resilient as those of kinship. The women sensed that the unconditional love of parents meant that not only were parents more understanding, but with parents they felt more confident about disclosing their true feelings without the fear of causing offense or resentment. Among affine, relations were not so straightforward in comparison to kin. While the women were aware of their responsibilities towards inlaws, such as sharing domestic chores and cooking, there were other areas where they were uncertain as to what was expected from them. At times, they felt unsure and uneasy that their actions could unwittingly cause hurt or offence to their in-laws. Therefore, at times it was still a complex relationship where they had to tread carefully, no longer out of duress, but the fear of upsetting people they genuinely cared for. Syrah was clear that she wanted to make a fair decision, despite the fact that she looked forward to the prospect of a holiday with just her husband and children. Syrah expressed how this holiday was a much-anticipated break, as it was an opportunity to unwind after a difficult period in her life. Recent events she had to deal with including the loss of her fatherin-law, and at the same time renovating and moving to a new house, had taken a toll on her. Although she explained to the others that her mother-in-law was a fair and reasonable person and would understand not being invited, it did not prevent her from feeling overwhelmed with guilt. Laila, Amber, Natasha and Iman tried to convince Syrah that her feelings of guilt were irrational. Laila said that Syrah deserved a wellearned break without her mother-in-law, because it had been a difficult year and holidays were a time for her to bond with her husband and children. Natasha even argued that, contrary to popular belief among many British-Pakistanis, in Islam it was the children’s duty to take responsibility for their parents, and the onus was not on the daughter-in-law, which was instead a cultural interpretation. Natasha suggested that Haris (Syrah’s husband) should ask his siblings to take care of his mother while they were away. She emphasised that, in reminding his siblings of their duty to their mother, Haris was doing them a favour because on the Day of Judgement they shouldn’t regret not sharing the burden and responsibility of caring for their mother. Natasha pointed out that her own husband regularly

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reminded his siblings that taking care of their elderly parents was a shared responsibility of all the siblings, and this burden should not be on one child. The others nodded their heads in agreement. Amber argued that living with in-laws was a cultural obligation, and in Islam daughters-in-law were not obliged to live with in-laws. The popularity of Islamic feminism as a tool for challenging patriarchal customs is discussed in greater depth in Chapter 7. Although Bolognani and Mellor (2012: 213) argue that British Muslim women exploit religious narratives to challenge patrilocal norms, and Brown (2006) discusses how British Muslim women use Islam to separate culture from religion, among the women it was not about challenging norms or exercising rights through religious rhetoric. At the most, their suggestions were merely thought-provoking and inspirational for subsequent generations to make changes. For these women, it was about exploiting the religious narrative in a way that worked for them, justifying their actions and decision-making to relieve guilt concerning in-laws and other relationships. Here Amber was using religion to justify her decision not to live with her in-laws and, in the same way, Natasha was exploiting religion to stop Syrah from feeling guilty for wanting a holiday without her mother-in-law. They were aware that defiance could not be justified by religious rhetoric, particularly when they had been inculcated from an early age to show respect and obedience to parents, elders and future inlaws. More importantly, the women recognised the benefits of being a daughter-in-law, and it had taken them many years to cultivate a position of moral capital and respect among their in-laws, and through it, among their social group, which they were not willing to lose. They were more confident in fulfilling the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law than treading the unchartered territory that conflicted with these cultural norms. Listening to the experiences of the women, it seemed to me that they saw their role among in-laws as altruistic: to help and support them. They expected the same commitment and devotion from their brother’s wives as daughters-in-law to their parents. The relationships between them and their brother’s wives became antagonistic when certain expectations from the women in my study were not met. It was interesting to see how the women maintained a sense of duty and close ties to in-laws, particularly when they themselves found it overwhelming at times. They wanted their own parents to be treated with respect and affection by their daughters-inlaw, and if these expectations were not met it created antipathy between the women and their sisters-in-law.

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For instance, relations soured between Roshan and her older brother’s wife after she refused to live with her in-laws. Roshan argued that she had fulfilled her the duties to her in-laws, and believed it was incumbent on all daughters-in-law to do so, which is why she was disappointed by her older brother’s wife’s lack of commitment to Roshan’s parents. Since Roshan’s mother-in-law was also her paternal aunt, her status changed after marriage from that of niece to daughter-in-law.4 For example, Roshan’s status as an in-law meant that it was her responsibility to organise her sisters-in-law (Roshan’s husband’s sisters) weddings, which took place in Pakistan. Roshan told me that it had been a stressful period in her life because despite having an infant and a toddler, she was expected to shop for both sisters-in-law’s trousseaux and gifts, and to help with the wedding arrangements in Pakistan. Roshan’s in-laws demanded many gifts from her because products from the West such as beauty products, lingerie, electrical goods, shoes, handbags and household items were popular and sought after in Pakistan. Furthermore, Roshan’s husband was the eldest son and a doctor, and was expected to support his family in Pakistan by sending remittances and paying for the wedding expenses of each of his siblings. She was under immense pressure while catering to the demands of her in-laws with a toddler and a baby in tow. Her sistersin-law requested furniture from the UK to furnish their homes, which Roshan and her husband had to provide. Her husband felt obliged and indebted to his mother because she was recently widowed, and his parents had invested a lot in his education to be able to send him to medical school. Roshan’s experience was not uncommon.5 Typically, widowed mothers would visit their children in Britain and stay for several months with their married son and his family (Shaw 2000: 98). Even when Roshan’s in-laws stayed with her for long periods of time, they behaved as guests: expecting to be waited upon, chauffeured and entertained by Roshan. Serena’s relationship with her brother’s wife was also strained because she felt that she did not live up to the expectations of being a good daughter-in-law to Serena’s parents. She believed that her brother had been influenced by his wife, whose aim was to distance him from his parents. Serena explained that her brother’s wife had not made an effort with Serena’s parents from the start, and had always showed antipathy, rarely visiting them and not reciprocating their warmth and kindness

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towards her. Even though Serena’s parents were now elderly and vulnerable, her brother’s wife still lacked concern and compassion towards them. The women clarified that their duties and commitments to their inlaws justified certain roles and commitments from their brother’s wives. Serena stated that she never overlooked her obligations to her in-laws, and that her mother encouraged her to be kind and compassionate towards them. She cherished fond memories of her in-laws who had passed away, mentioning that she had kept in close contact with them despite them living in different cities. She would often go and stay with them and accompany them to hospital and GP appointments. Serena said that she earned her mother-in-law’s affection through showing utmost respect and commitment to her in-laws. Her mother-in-law had a close relationship with Serena and cooked her favourite dishes every time she visited as a gesture of love and happiness at seeing her daughter-in-law. Her only expectation was that the same level of respect be shown towards her own parents from their daughters-in-law. Respect towards in-laws and parents was paramount to Serena, and she expected her own daughter to be a devoted daughter-in-law when she got married in the future. It was interesting to see how some of the women in my study expected the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law to be fulfilled by the next generation.

The Merits of In-Laws As mentioned, early in their marriage the women faced many challenges in being accepted as a valued member of the family among their in-laws. Over time, they moved from the periphery to a position as a valued and important family member with their in-laws. Here, I look beyond the idea of mere recognition and status. As someone from outside the family, they were not entitled to belong among their in-laws, it had to be earned. It was through their commitment to their in-laws and their role as a dutiful daughter-in-law that the women became entitled to belong. Their role was similar to that of the Hindu women in Reddy and Hanna’s (1998) study, where the role and expectation of Hindu women was to be an ideal wife and daughter-in-law, one who is obedient to her inlaws and husband, and places the needs of her husband, children and in-laws above her own (Raval 2009: 492). Abu-Lughod (2000: 63) notes that bonds such as unity and support are consolidated through obligations of living together, arguing that those who live together are regarded

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as kin, because the bonds in this relationship are created through closeness. The rights and obligations among those living together are similar to those of kinship because they are bound by strong sentiment. Living together makes strangers familiar, and it is this familiarity that engenders attachment and a sense of belonging akin to family (Abu-Lughod 2000: 64–65). Fondness and compassion consolidate bonds that lead to a close relationship, whereas negative emotions such as suspicion and resentment create barriers (Butcher 2009: 1355).6 Therefore, belonging is about establishing these bonds of affiliation and love through commitment, trust and respect. In my study, even for the women who did not live with their in-laws, having parents or in-laws living close by was welcomed. Those who did not have parents or in-laws nearby missed the presence of family which they thought was good for their children’s upbringing and, more importantly, they valued belonging through family because it offered comfort and support. McCarthy highlights the importance of family in people’s everyday lives: belonging through family offers a sense of security (2012: 74). The women preferred to share responsibilities and were in favour of a set-up which was less individualistic and more about putting the needs of others first, placing an emphasis on the value of the rights of the collective and hierarchies of power within the family.7 Grandparents helped with childcare, and children were responsible for the care and wellbeing of elderly parents. South Asian immigrants endorse strict gender roles, expectations and well-being of the wider family group as opposed to the well-being of individuals, nuclear family unity and family dependency (Jibeen and Hynie 2012: 2; Joly and Wadia 2017: 172). This set-up worked in the favour of the women because their in-laws took responsibility for childcare and shared domestic duties, enabling them to pursue their career, interests and ambitions. Therefore, the relationship between the women and their in-laws was one of reciprocity and was mutually beneficial. The relationship of the women with their in-laws became a symbiotic one; one which involved mutual love and support. Parents-in-law were, in most cases, an asset to the daughter-in-law, and they could be relied upon for childcare. Women also took advantage of the fact that grandparents took on the responsibility for being the transmitters of cultural and religious values.8 The importance of family is critical among South Asians: grandparents have a higher status in the family and are taken care of by family members and are also very involved in the upbringing of their

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grandchildren (Mathews 2000: 102).9 The women depended on their inlaws and their parents to pass down religious values and Pakistani customs to their children. Those of the women who lived with their in-laws said that it took the pressure off them having to be the sole bearers of their cultural and religious norms, because their children’s grandparents took it upon themselves to impart these values to their grandchildren. Similarly, Shankar’s (2008: 107) study of South Asian Americans notes that children raised with the help of grandparents were more fluent in their parent’s mother tongue. Farah mentioned that her in-laws involved her children in religious rituals and prayers, and was grateful to her in-laws, and her own family, for fostering good manners in her children. Scholars have also pointed out the importance of family in engendering certain beliefs and curbing certain behaviours. This is prevalent among many ethnic minority groups, not just among the British-Pakistanis I came across in my study. For example, there were many parallels in the roles and influences on family between the women in my study and the literature on ethnic minorities living in North America and Europe, such as the important role that family plays in belonging. Studies on Arab-American migrants (Ajrouch 1999; Seikaly 1999) illustrates that extended family, which consists of parents, children, grandparents, uncles and aunts living together, is greatly valued and has its benefits because affiliation through family offers people a sense of security and a strong network of solidarity. Tradition is used as a defence against conflicting values and behaviour prevalent in their host society. Family and home become the bastion of culture, and female family members are recognised as having a special role as ‘cultural guardians’, responsible for passing on cultural and religious values, investing in the next generation the upholding of cultural values and religious beliefs. Thus, family serves to uphold certain ideals and expectations upheld by people of ethnic minority status (Seikaly 1999: 33). Silverstein’s research on the influence of in-laws on marriage shows that in-laws can be an asset through their positive contributions, such as offering support and guidance, as well as friendship (1990: 400). The women mentioned that before returning to their careers, they had invested a lot in their relationships with their in-laws. In return, their in-laws took upon themselves the responsibility for childcare and housework when the women went back to work. Help and support no longer stemmed out of duty, but out of appreciation of a valued member of the family.

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As mentioned, most of the women appreciated the help and support they received from their in-laws and in return were happy to care for them. In between work and family commitments, Nadia took time out to meet with me. Nadia highlighted the benefits of having her mother-in-law living close by, saying She expects us to look after her and give her a roof over her head, but then she helps us as well. We are happy to do that. She helps out with the children, baby sitting and picking them up from school - that’s a big help. (May 2013)

The support and help from in-laws enabled the women to continue with their careers because grandparents took responsibility for the school run and cooking the evening meal, which absolved them of a lot of the responsibility and pressure of childcare and domestic chores. Furthermore, they did not have to think twice about having an evening out with their husband or their friends, because the grandparents would care for the children. Grandparents and other family members living in the same house or close by bestowed love and attention on the children and took an active role in their care and well-being. Therefore, the patrilocal system of living with in-laws had its advantages, and the sacrifices the women in my study made for their in-laws paid off later in their marriage. There was a genuine sense of belonging, loyalty and affiliation within this relationship, where in-laws could count on their daughter-in-law for support, advice and company, and the daughter-in-law could do the same without hesitation and without feeling it was a burden on her in-laws. It was this affection between the women in my study and their in-laws that brought the family together.

Changes in Expectations At the same time, the women were noticing changes between their own experiences and those of women who were newly married. They mentioned that the British-Pakistani women who were getting married now seemed less involved with their in-laws and did not live up to the traditional role of a dutiful daughter-in-law. Rytter (2010) argues that these changes are already taking place. Daughters-in-law were not as willing to make compromises as the women of the previous generation and were less likely to live with in-laws. Consequently, mothers-in-law

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were finding it difficult to accept such assertiveness from their new daughters-in-law, because a woman marrying their son was an opportunity to finally enjoy the status and benefits of being a mother-in-law, just like their mothers-in-law before them. More importantly, they had looked forward to having a dutiful and submissive daughter-in-law, as they had once been (Rytter 2010: 56–57). The women did not need to challenge their own mothers-in-law in the same way because, having been married for several years, they had already established positive relations with their in-laws, and had achieved more autonomy and were no longer constrained to the will of their mothers-in-law. However, they were also noticing a significant change in the expectations of mothers-in-law and attitudes of daughters-in-law from the time they got married, and these changes occurred over a very short space of time. Changes in lifestyle, priorities and external influences such as religion, globalisation and wider society impacted the expectations that mothersin-law had of their daughters-in-law.10 These factors were also shaping the attitudes and expectations that the younger generation had towards marriage and their role as a daughter-in-law. Bhachu notes that these changes were occurring because the culture of country of origin is modified as it interacts with the cultures of the host county (1993 cited in Thapan 2005: 34). This is particularly true in the case of immigrants who want to challenge gendered discourses from their home country (Thapan 2005: 34). Second-generation migrants espouse an identity that is fluid and in flux, and which promotes cultural hybridity through galvanising elements of both the majority and minority culture, involving both assimilation and the continuation of cultural traditions, and engendering new identities through this process of cultural hybridity (Thapan 2005: 36). Rytter also points out the unique position of first-generation migrants. In the diaspora, the first- and second-generation migrants are not only generations living in a different time, but also in different places. Generations are intertwined with experiences of living in different places governed by the local and the global (2013: 6). Problems arise among second-generation South Asian women living in the West because they are presented with the conflicting values discussed above. These women have been socialised within the home from a young age with one set of values, which can be incompatible with the set of values that they have been influenced by outside the home. Hence the second generation must face the challenge of conflating these different and often conflicting norms and values with which they are presented (Jibeen and

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Hynie 2012: 3). According to the women, these disparities were more noticeable among British-Pakistani women of a younger generation who were now getting married, whereas the women felt, at least at the start of their marriage, that they were dutiful to their in-laws because these values and expectations were inherent to their upbringing. This is not to say that the women were immune to the conflicting norms and values of their surroundings. While their expectations of daughters-in-law were different from those of British-Pakistani women who were younger, their expectations were also different from those of the previous generation. Each generation had different expectations, and their outlook, values and priorities were influenced by the ever-changing society in which they lived. Therefore, the mothers-in-law of the women were also realising that to make the relationship with their daughtersin-law work, they also had to make compromises and to modify their expectations. They could not hold on to the same expectations as their own in-laws had of them in Pakistan. The image of a daughter-in-law that they left behind in Pakistan could not be reconstructed in Britain.11 Once they moved to Britain, first-generation British-Pakistani women were finding ways of adapting to their new life through negotiating and renegotiating values, changes and expectations of family life in Britain. As for the women in my study, global, local and religious influences played an important role in their understanding as to what they could expect from the next generation. According to Farah, her generation of British-Pakistani women went into marriage intending to be obedient to their in-laws, in order to earn their respect and acceptance. She said that ‘we have still got a lot of culture in us’. Farah recalled that she had recently gone to pay her respects at the passing of a very close friend of her father-in-law. She was surprised to witness that during the period of mourning, the new daughter-in-law did not take an active role in the family, such as seeing to her grieving in-laws and tending to the mourners, and had continued going to work instead of taking leave. Farah stated that had she been in the same situation, she would have put her work and life on hold out of respect and duty to her in-laws, and thought it was important to continue and observe these ‘Asian ways’. She was disappointed that the younger generation were engrossed in their own lives instead of putting family first. Farah and the other women were aware of their role as the dutiful daughter-in-law, and the need to integrate into their husband’s family. While this was a challenging and unwelcome situation, the women in my

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study were mindful that the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law paid dividends. It not only earned them moral capital among their in-laws, but also autonomy and the love and trust of their in-laws. In spite of the fact they see this as a challenging relationship, and understand why, they also believe that the relationship between in-laws carries with it a set of cultural and moral values that are important to pass on to the next generation, even if they are going to do things differently. Farah and the other women felt that these changes in behaviour of daughters-in-law were occurring sooner than they had envisaged. They welcomed changes to ease the burden on daughters-in-law, but surprisingly, when they witnessed changes, they did not want to let go of the traditional values as they were not ready to embrace such changes so soon. More importantly for those who had children in their late teens or early twenties, the prospect of becoming a mother-in-law was in the not-too-distant future. Realising that they had to come to terms with such rapid changes in the behaviour of daughters-in-law, and being the recipient of these changes, the women were unlikely to benefit from a dutiful daughter-in-law in the future. Nadia gave the example of her husband’s younger brother’s wife Shirin, to illustrate how attitudes have changed so dramatically in a short space of time. Nadia had lived under a patrilocal system for several years, before moving out when her brother-in-law and his wife moved in. Shirin was in her mid-twenties, several years younger than Nadia, and though she was a second-generation British-Pakistani from a similar class background, her attitude to her in-laws was very different from Nadia’s. Even though Shirin now lived with her mother-in-law, unlike Nadia who used to share the domestic chores such as cooking and cleaning, Shirin was unable to take on such responsibilities because she did not possess those skills. Nadia drew attention to the fact that her generation of British-Pakistani women were skilled in cooking, and said, In my generation mothers have instilled in their daughters that cooking was a vital skill and something you should be accomplished in, because you have to cook yourself when you leave home and fend for yourself. (May 2013)

These changes in expectations were also a shock to Nadia. It surprised Nadia that the younger generation were so relaxed in their attitudes towards domesticity, whereas her generation took pride in cooking and

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housekeeping, and did not let their career become an excuse for incompetence or espousing a lax attitude. Nadia was taught by her mother that the inability to cook was a bad reflection on her upbringing, and especially embarrassing for the mother, because she had failed to equip her daughter with important life skills. Teaching her daughters how to cook and other domestic skills had been a priority for Nadia’s mother, as she wanted to ensure that her daughters were competent in these skills so that their inlaws would be proud of her daughter’s domestic achievements and would also benefit from them. Mothers of women of her generation would have been appalled to have their sons marry women who were incompetent in the domestic sphere, regardless of their academic achievements or professional status. Apart from it being a reflection of a good upbringing, having a professional career and possessing the skills of an accomplished homemaker were desirable attributes sought after in a daughter-in-law. This was also common among other women I spoke to. Nadia explained that among Shirin’s contemporaries, most were inexperienced in housekeeping and cooking. The priorities and attitudes of British-Pakistani women had changed considerably and, therefore, the expectations of mothers-in-law towards them were gradually changing too. Nadia was pleased that her mother-in-law’s attitudes towards daughters-in-law were also moving with the times, making it easier for Shirin to live with her. She also acknowledged that the priorities of mothers were changing too, and mothers were placing more emphasis on their daughters having a career rather than their ability to cook. Nadia pointed out that Shirin had many other qualities and was an asset to her in-laws as she was polite, respectful and forthcoming, and the fact that Shirin lived with her mother-in-law was more than could be expected from British-Pakistani women now-a-days. Nadia, like many other women I spoke to, drew attention to the fact that women of her generation were taught by their own mothers to be more aware of the needs of in-laws and, when they got married, they took pride in supporting their in-laws and sometimes appreciated the support they received from in-laws. While Nadia no longer lived with her motherin-law, their lives were still very much enmeshed. Commitment to family was an integral part of her cultural and religious upbringing, and she felt pity towards her mother-in-law for being widowed and lonely. During the period they lived together, Nadia would take her mother-in-law to coffee mornings at the local mosque, to encourage her to socialise with other British-Pakistani women her own age who lived locally. Even after

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moving out, Nadia took meals round to her mother-in-law when she was unwell, out of genuine concern.

The Changing Attitudes of Third-Generation British-Pakistanis Gazala had similar views about family and in-laws as Farah and Nadia, as described above. She espoused cultural expectations and upheld certain traditions passed down by her mother. Like many of the other women I spoke to, she agreed that the younger generation were lacking in empathy and commitment to family, and duty to their in-laws. Unlike her generation, they did not put the needs of elders before their own, or place emphasis on the importance of filial duty and a sense of obligation to family. Gazala emphasised the importance of duty and obedience to elders, but at the same time, she admired how the younger generation did things out of sincerity rather than obligation. Their actions did not stem from coercion or guilt, but instead from genuine love and care: Our generation has had that traditional influence, and they have seen it within their own family, and their parents do it. It may continue if the next generation see their parents doing it, but if they haven’t or if they don’t like the family thing then it won’t. Our generation do things out of obligation for our parents and elders, out of respect, even if we really don’t want to, whereas my children’s generation - if they don’t want to do something they are honest and say they don’t want to do it. In one way, I like that honesty because at least they do things because they want to, but at the same time it’s also a bit selfish, because life isn’t always you get to do everything you like. Sometimes you do have to do things to please someone else out of respect. Our generation has definitely got that respect and obligation embedded in us. (June 2013)

It was interesting to note the differences in attitudes and expectations between Gazala’s generation and her children’s generation. Secondgeneration British-Pakistanis saw the importance of maintaining certain expectations, such as respect for elders and keeping the family together, to please their parents and in-laws. The women were noticing that their own children were not taking such a burden of responsibility upon themselves. Unlike their parents, they were not placing importance on duty to family and elders, but instead they were dutiful out of choice rather than obligation. While among the second-generation duty was done out

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of obligation, over time duty transformed into an expression of gratitude and affection towards a loved one, a bond that developed over time through living together and sharing experiences. Gazala explained that her mother had advised her to put her in-laws above the needs of her own parents, so that she would earn their love and respect. Her mother recommended that engaging in chores and experiences with her in-laws would strengthen bonds. After her mother-in-law passed away, Gazala’s father-in-law moved into live with her and her family. Gazala worked as a nutritionist and holistic therapist and, even though she was busy juggling a career and family, she dedicated time to her father-in-law every day. They would often chat or do chores together, such as gardening and cooking. Gazala’s in-laws expressed positive sentiments and goodwill towards her and regarded her as a valued member of the family. Being the wife of the eldest son, Gazala was expected by her inlaws to initiate family dinners, host Eid dinner and keep the family together. She was also responsible for the well-being of her husband’s nieces and nephews who had moved to Manchester to study. She would often cook meals for them and wash their laundry when they visited from university. She enjoyed this nurturing but demanding role, which earned her respect and recognition among her in-laws, and the satisfaction of caring for others. Reciprocity, and sharing life and chores strengthened bonds between women and their in-laws. The women took pride in their nurturing roles, not only as mothers, but as an elder in the family, caring for younger family members.12 Among the women, their husband’s closeness to his parents and siblings was expressed through their wife’s devotion to her in-laws. The closeness to and responsibility for parents and siblings was instilled in the men by their families from a young age. Therefore, it was important to them to marry a woman who would espouse similar values and expect to be dutiful to his family. Although most of the women did not have an arranged marriage, they were aware of their role to become a dutiful daughter-in-law because of their upbringing: it was something that their husband, parents and in-laws expected from them. Gazala’s husband was very appreciative of the way she cared for his father, and the time Gazala had devoted to his mother when she was alive. For the women, the relationship between a daughter-in-law and her in-laws was the glue that kept the family together, bridging the generations and maintaining

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stability, but there are also practical and economic considerations, and Gazala explains: We still have duties to in-laws: my father-in-law lives with us. I said to my daughter the other day, when we become pensioners, we won’t be able to afford to live on our pension on our own, we will need support like your granddad lives with us. We support him and his pension is his pocket money, and he doesn’t have to worry about heating bills, and he is close to his family. (June 2013)

Gazala was candid about the financial aspect of a patrilocal system, particularly the importance of elderly people enjoying disposable income in retirement while still maintaining the level of material comfort which they had grown accustomed to, instead of having to worry about lowering their standard of living. Furthermore, by taking care of her father-in-law, Gazala had also demonstrated to her children that elderly people have the right to enjoy a good quality of life, mentally and financially, and that they need to be looked after because it relieves them of anxieties associated with old age such as limited resources, isolation and loneliness. While Gazala did not hold on to the idea that her children would live with her and her husband when they reached old age, she thought it was necessary to set an example to her children and to show them the benefits of living together and taking care of family, by practicing what she preached. Many of the values that Gazala espoused were those she was socialised with growing up, and in the same way she wanted her children to pick up these values from the home. Gazala did not expect her son to take sole responsibility for her and her husband in old age but hoped that her daughter would also share this responsibility. In this way, she was challenging patriarchal values by instilling the importance of filial duty in her daughter, making it an equal responsibility for both the son and daughter to take care of their parents. Likewise, many of the women did not expect their sons and future daughters-in-law to live with them but lived in anticipation that in old age all their children would have a sense of duty towards them. This would only be possible, however, if their own daughters were relieved from the role of being dutiful daughters-in-law. Looking into the future, the women contemplated their relationship with their sons when they got married. Roshan reflected on her

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husband’s obligations to his parents and how she would not have the same expectations for her sons: …He is the eldest - he’s had having to support all his family. His parents concentrated on him and made him the doctor. Now he feels he must help all his family out, which is fine. That is the only way they could have done it at the time. But the way I think for my children … I want them to be able to live their lives and when they get their education and get their career they can go on and live their life and have a comfortable life without having to worry about us. (May 2013)

Nadia explained: My husband’s mother is a widow and we do look after her because she is a widow. It is expected for her sons to look after her, and anything she needs they should provide for her. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, I think it’s a good thing. Although we wouldn’t expect the same from my sons. I would like my sons to visit me when they are older and not cut themselves off me, but I don’t want them to live with me because I have done that myself and it’s difficult. I wouldn’t want them to feel the pressure of having a wife and mother in the same house. I don’t think it works with anyone, no matter how nice the wife or mother is. I think every woman needs her own space and her own home. But I don’t want the boys to feel they can’t even talk to me about things, I always want to be there for them. I want them to open up to me if they need any advice or if they want to let off any steam. If I fell ill, I would never want them to look after me or nurse me. I would never put that on them or expect that from them. (May 2013)

Neither Roshan nor Nadia wanted to become an overbearing or demanding mother to their sons in old age. However, Nadia felt that having children had brought her closer to her mother-in-law because she was able to understand her better, and to appreciate the importance of a close-knit family to her mother-in-law. Like her mother-in-law, Nadia wanted to maintain a close relationship with her children even when they left home. As with the other women, the respect and affection that Nadia earned from her in-laws worked to her advantage by enabling her to strengthen ties between her own family and that of her in-laws. The significance of women creating strong ties between kin and affine has also been noted by Werbner, who argued that it is recognised among

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Muslim Punjabi culture that women have the power to link two families (her kin with affine) through the transfer of love, and equally she has the power to sever links through hatred. Pakistani Punjabi women are supposed to possess power through patience, and it is this perseverance that gives them the endurance to bear hardship (2002: 259). Nadia invested greater time and effort focussing on her family rather than friends, because family ties not only brought her pleasure, but also offered belonging, and the love and affection that her children received through family could not be achieved elsewhere. Research shows that cultivating these relationships is important, and Western studies have found that family is a significant contributor to personal happiness for all, regardless of cultural background, highlighting how family life is pivotal to contentment and fulfilment (Lu and Lin 1998: 196), which arguably overrides social relationships beyond family. These changes in expectations and attitudes between the second and third generation are determined by upbringing. Some principles that were important among the first generation or second generation did not have the same resonance among subsequent generations. It is these intergenerational changes that I addressed in the previous chapter. The close relationship between a mother and her daughter not only enables mothers to pass on certain expectations to their children, but also allows children to negotiate these values and espouse the ones that suit them.

Conclusion This chapter highlights how, rather than being submissive to a stereotypical patriarchal system that feeds into the rhetoric of Islamophobia (illustrated in Chapter 3), the women have used this system to their advantage. Even though the negotiations with in-laws at the beginning of their marriage were limited, the women were far from being the passive victims of a patriarchal system. On the contrary, they were playing the game: exploiting this system for the purpose of gaining capital, status and recognition among their in-laws. More importantly, close ties with in-laws worked in their favour. The women not only earned recognition, capital and belonging through in-laws, but also help and support with their children. In-laws, alongside parents, were important in imparting not only cultural and religious values onto grandchildren but also caring for grandchildren, allowing the women to pursue their career without having the worry and expense of childcare.

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Although the second generation reaped the benefits of this system through trust and respect which lead to empowerment and belonging, they were reluctant for their daughters to go through the hardship that they had to endure in the early years of their marriage. Therefore, it is less clear if patriarchal values will pass down the generations or be replaced with the nuclear family system that prevails in the West. More importantly, the tension lies in the fact that the women see benefits in both value systems which are disparate, conflicting, contradictory and therefore difficult to conflate. As mentioned above, the women were noticing subtle changes among the women who were now getting married, because they were not as committed to the patriarchal system compared to themselves. Newly married British-Pakistani women were discovering new avenues of garnering status and capital, other than from a patriarchal system. The difference between the generation of the women I worked with and the younger generation who were now entering marriage was that the expectations of marriage had shifted, and the values that mothers passed on to the previous generation were different from the values being passed on to the younger generation. While this chapter and the previous chapter have underpinned the role and importance of family in establishing and reinforcing certain values and expectations, the following chapters show that friendships are also important for amassing social, cultural and symbolic capital. These chapters focus on belonging and recognition through friendships established through the shared experiences, values and interests of those sharing British-Pakistani and Muslim identities. Therefore, the values and expectations established in the home—such as the social role of a daughter-in-law, a dutiful daughter, being competitive, having religious knowledge and cultural competence—are pivotal in amassing capital and recognition among friends. In the following chapter, I discuss the salience of Pakistani identity, notably the ways of being Pakistani for the women, which is different from that of their parents and from Pakistanis in Pakistan.

Notes 1. Similarly, among the Chinese in Song and Zhang’s (2012: 59) study, a man brings his wife into his family through marriage, making her an ingroup member. Gaining the trust of in-laws worked to one’s advantage:

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2. 3. 4.

5.

6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11.

12.

it was not only a strategy to acquire agency and to raise status among in-laws, it also strengthened relations between husband and wife. Iman is of British Arab decent and grew up in South America and Spain, and settled in Britain after getting married. Umrah, the Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca, can be undertaken at any time of the year, unlike Hajj (Yusaf 2006). Some Pakistani parents prefer their daughters to marry close kin, as this gives them the reassurance that their daughter will be treated well by in-laws who are also family (Charsley 2007: 1120). This is also what the women’s parents expected, but upon marriage nieces were presented with the same responsibilities and expectations as daughters-in-law who were not kin. Transnational kin marriages are favoured among many firstgeneration Pakistanis for their children, as they believe this union will strengthen and consolidate ties with family left behind in their homeland (Charsley 2005: 86). Remittances are often sent back to meet wedding expenses or to improve the socio-economic status of family back home (Shaw 2000: 98). Shaw also notes that it is common practice among migrants to return home, especially for a wedding, and to stay for long periods. Butcher’s (2009) study of Australian migrants working in Asia. This is also noted in Abu-Laban and Abu-Laban’s (1999) study of Arab migrants in Canada. In Evergeti’s (2006: 351) study of Greek diaspora communities around the world, extended family plays a critical role in the celebration of religious and cultural events, and family is seen as a major source of support in caring for young children and aging parents. Furthermore, family obligations are internalised and inherent to cultural expectations, something which I also noticed among the women. Mathews’ (2000) study of family, norms and expectations among South Asians and South East Asian migrants in the United States. Here I use ‘wider society’ to mean the general public who are not Muslim or Asian. The first-generation Pakistani women were raised in Pakistan with an image of a daughter-in-law who had to fulfil a very specific role. In Pakistan they had to live up to this role themselves, and also expected other women to fulfil this very specific role of a daughter-in-law to earn respect from in-laws and family, and to gain acceptance from in-laws. Walker et al. (1987) recognise that women are the promoters of intergenerational ties and are more involved in maintaining family bonds than men (Fingerman 2004: 1028).

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References Abu-Laban, B., & Abu-Laban, S. (1999). Arab-Canadian youth in immigrant family life. In M. W. Suleiman (Ed.), Arabs in America: Building a new future (pp. 140–154). Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Abu-Lughod, L. (2000). Veiled sentiments: Honour and poetry in a Bedouin society. Oakland: California University Press. Ajrouch, K. (1999). Family and ethnic identity in an Arab-American community. In M. W. Suleiman (Ed.), Arabs in America: Building a new future (pp. 129– 138). Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Bolognani, M., & Mellor, J. (2012). British Pakistani women’s use of the ‘religion versus culture’ contrast: A critical analysis. Culture and Religion: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 13(2), 211–226. Brown, K. (2006). Realising Muslim women’s rights: The role of Islamic identity among British Muslim women. Women Studies International Forum, 29, 417– 430. Butcher, M. (2009). Ties that bind: The strategic use of transnational relationships in demarcating identity and managing difference. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 35(8), 1353–1371. Charsley, K. (2005). Unhappy husbands: Masculinity and migration in transnational Pakistani marriages. The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 11(1), 5–105. Charsley, K. (2007). Risk, trust, gender and transnational cousin marriage among British Pakistanis. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 30(6), 1117–1131. Evergeti, V. (2006). Living and caring between two cultures. Community, Work & Family, 9(3), 347–366. Fingerman, K. (2004). The role of offspring and in-laws in grandparents’ ties to their grandchildren. Journal of Family Issues, 25(8), 1026–1049. Jibeen, T., & Hynie, M. (2012). Perceptions of autonomy and life satisfaction in Pakistani married immigrant women in Toronto, Canada. Sex Roles, 67, 1–16. Joly, D., & Wadia, K. (2017). Muslim women and power: Political and civic engagement in West European societies. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Lu, L., & Lin, Y. Y. (1998). Family roles and happiness in adulthood. Personality and Individual Differences, 25, 195–207. Mathews, R. (2000). Cultural patterns of South Asian and South East Asian Americans. Intervention in School and Clinic, 36(2), 101–104. McCarthy, J. (2012). The powerful relational language of ‘family’: Togetherness, belonging and personhood. The Sociological Review, 60(1), 68–90. Raval, V. (2009). Negotiating conflict between personal desires and others’ expectations in lives of Gujarati women. ETHOS, 37 (4), 489–511. Rytter, M. (2010). In-laws and outlaws: Black magic among Pakistani migrants in Denmark. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.), 16, 46–63.

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Rytter, M. (2012). Between preferences: Marriage and mobility among Danish Pakistani Youth. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.), 18, 572–590. Rytter, M. (2013). Family upheaval: Generation, mobility and relatedness among Pakistani migrants in Denmark. Oxford: Bergahn. Seikaly, M. (1999). Attachment and identity: The Palestinian community in Detroit: Arabs in America. In M. W. Suleiman (Ed.), Arabs in America: Building a new future (pp. 25–38). Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Shankar, S. (2008). Desi Land. Durham: Duke University Press. Shaw, A. (2000). Kinship and continuity: Pakistani families in Britain. London: Routledge. Silverstein, J. (1990). The problem with in-laws. Journal of Family Therapy, 14, 399–412. Song, Y., & Zhang, Y. B. (2012). Husbands’ conflict styles in Chinese mother/daughter-in-law conflicts: Daughters-in-law’s perspectives. Journal of Family Communication, 12(1), 57–74. Thapan, M. (2005). ‘Making incomplete’: Identity, woman and the state. In M. Thapan (Ed.), Transnational migration and the politics of identity (pp. 23– 62). London: Sage. Walker, A. J., Thompson, L., & Morgan, C. S. (1987). Two generations of mothers and daughters: Role position and interdependence. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 11, 195–208. Werbner, P. (1990). The migration process: Capital, gifts and offerings among British Pakistanis. Oxford: Berg. Werbner, P. (2002). Imagined diasporas among Manchester Muslims: The public performance of Pakistani transnational identity politics. Oxford: James Currey. Yusaf, M. (2006). Hajj and umrah guide. Available at http://www.hajjumrah guide.com/umrarites.html. Accessed 15 June 2015.

CHAPTER 6

Performance of a British-Pakistani Identity

Being a middle-class British-Pakistani woman not only involved a notion of belonging, but also a sense of plural belongings that may be incompatible or complementary, depending on the context: class, gender, ethnicity and race were all part of the interplay between identity and belonging. The women who were born in Britain felt that they belong there, but in different ways from how they perceived their white British acquaintances and neighbours did. Alcohol, for instance, was inherent to the experience of socialisation that many British-Pakistanis and British Muslims could not relate to, which limited their participation in certain contexts. For some British-Pakistani women, the material and cultural elements that went against their own cultural and religious values were enough to make them feel that they did not belong with the established white majority of British people; they were still British, but British in a particular way. The same goes for being Pakistani: they are not Pakistani in the same way as their parents or the Pakistani nationals they meet in Manchester are (Pakistani nationals are Pakistanis who have settled in Britain from Pakistan in recent years. These Pakistanis are highly skilled wealthy migrants).1 This chapter reveals the complex relationship between class and social mobility, through the performance of ethnic identity (in this case BritishPakistani). It also touches upon the fact that prejudice is not limited to obvious differences. Second-generation British-Pakistanis have also suffered prejudice from Pakistanis who have recently settled in Britain © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_6

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from Pakistan, for their limited knowledge and competence of Pakistani culture and language.2 Alongside their British identity, their sense of being ‘Pakistani’ is also questioned and scrutinised. It is interesting to see how markers of differences, acceptance and prejudice also come from those occupying the same religious and ethnic group. I observed this performance of a British-Pakistani identity at a public event exclusively organised for women: the Ladies’ Night. At this event, being British-Pakistani was manifested through intense competitiveness: the way the women looked and dressed, competed over their children’s achievements, and appropriated elements of high-end Pakistani culture from Pakistan such as fashion, style and speech. The majority of the women in my research felt a strong sense of being British-Pakistani, which they celebrated through a network of friends on social occasions. In their everyday lives, they participate in Asian music and dance, dress in Pakistani clothing, consume Pakistani cuisine with friends, and attend events where they meet other British-Pakistanis.3 Such social events are pivotal for maintaining collective identities through shared interests which, in this instance, are invoked through popular culture, humour, festivals, music, clothes and food.4 What most second-generation British-Pakistanis experience is a British life with certain values, expectations and identities, and it is these markers of difference that are celebrated and promoted, along with being British, by the British-Pakistanis the women associate with. This very strong partaking of a British-Pakistani identity gives the women a sense of belonging, which is of great importance to them. Even though most of the women had a close network of BritishPakistani friends, this was not necessarily the case for all the BritishPakistanis I came across in the field. Several women preferred to meet a handful of British-Pakistani friends on an individual basis, and others told me that they mainly socialised with non-Pakistanis and non-Muslims. For them, British-Pakistani identity was manifested through family, upbringing and being situated in transnational social fields. Unlike the women belonging to a British-Pakistani social group, these women did not feel the need to shape their values, ideas or identities to fit in with others. Many chose to select the Pakistani cultural values that suited them. A number of the women had a sibling or close relatives whose spouse was born and raised in Pakistan. These relatives became a source of cultural references and insight, particularly at family functions, and had a significant influence over the cultural identity of their relatives in Britain. At family gatherings, the performance of Pakistani identity was crucial,

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and was expressed through food, clothes, vernacular language, religious rituals, and conversation, and through the expectation of certain values. The social pressure to conform in order to belong is a reason why some people prefer not to socialise in this way (Roggeveen and van Meeteren 2013: 1080).5

The Significance of British-Pakistani Identity For most of the women I met, this specific way of being Pakistani entailed a series of shared beliefs, behaviours, cultural practices, and values that were deployed in different ways in different contexts. What the women understood as their cultural heritage was of great value to them. They were concerned about the threat of their children losing their cultural identity. For instance, both Malia and Farah were conscious of passing on Pakistani traditions and culture to their children. Farah said that ethnic identity could not be avoided because people still asked the question, ‘where are you from originally?’ The women were used to strangers asking them this. The word ‘originally’ hit home the fact that they were not seen as fully British by whoever had asked the question. Farah pointed out the limitations of friendships with English people, due to different cultural expectations and norms. For example, the respect for family, parents and elders that is valued and passed down through the generations is seen as inherent to Islamic tradition and Pakistani identity (Rytter 2010b: 603), which Farah perceives as lacking in the West. Farah explained: My English friends don’t understand why I live with my in-laws, they don’t understand our cultural obligations. I remember a mum from school telling me that she told her husband that she didn’t like his mother because she was annoying. I was shocked! We would never dream of saying such a thing! They can answer their in-laws back if they have a disagreement, which is unheard of in our culture. I feel at times I have very little in common with my English friends and they have a limited insight into my life. (September 2013)

In reality, the women were originally from different class backgrounds, therefore sameness with other British–Pakistanis was fluid and contextual and contained multiple possibilities. Their parents had passed on their own experiences of Pakistan, varying from a rural or modest urban

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upbringing to those whose parents had had a privileged life growing up and had gained an education in metropolitan cities in Pakistan before moving to Britain. This Pakistani identity was manifested by their parents through passing on their own love, loyalty and experiences and memories of Pakistan to their children. Religious and cultural backgrounds were not the same for everyone, nor were they static. Parents were also passing down values, experiences, memories and expectations, and these were not the same in each British-Pakistani family, but this illusion of uniformity and sameness created a united front against difference and established a dialogue for promoting a particular British-Pakistani identity. Similarly, Glick Schiller (2008: 4) highlights the fact that while ethnic groups are not bounded, boundedness is itself created in response to different situations, creating the illusion that identities are fixed. Hina mentioned that she made conscious efforts to draw her children into Pakistani culture by attending events such as weddings, funerals, and social and religious gatherings, and constantly reiterated to her children the need to take pride in their Pakistani and Muslim heritage. She made sure that her children accompanied her to Pakistani social gatherings so that they would be accustomed to meeting and interacting with other British-Pakistanis and would be exposed to cultural values through social interaction. Hina stressed the importance of embracing and being proud of one’s ethnic identity: We are who we are, and we can’t run away from that. We are all Pakistani Muslim and we have to be proud of it and should not be ashamed of it. We are not the terrorists, we are not slutting around. We are decent girls from decent families bringing up our children the best we can and working really hard. We should be proud of that, and not try and run away from the fact we are Pakistani and make our kids more ‘gorafied’, that’s not right. (Interview, December 2012)6

Here Hina was distinguishing British-Pakistanis from white British people, using collective identities to create binaries that establish differences.7 In her statement, Hina was also engendering social representation, which Moscovici (1973) defines as ‘systems of values, ideas and practices’ enabling group members to rationalise their social world and make sense of their relationships with other groups (cited in Andreouli and Howarth 2012: 363). Pakistani identity was a positive attribute that allowed them to be driven, respectful and disciplined, and it was paramount to pass

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these attributes on to their children. Thus, many of the women in my study created this illusion of a binary: Pakistani culture in opposition to Western culture. Here they were promoting collective identities, for the purpose of inclusion and belonging. More importantly, these markers of difference and distinction also worked as a reaction to the relentless hostility towards British-Pakistanis that they both witnessed and experienced. Meanwhile, they were also expressing pride in their differences and claiming superiority of their own cultural and religious beliefs which were looked down upon by others, allowing them to feel empowered.

Pakistani Nationals For the majority of the women, the role of Pakistani nationals and what is understood as contemporary Pakistani culture seemed to be of paramount importance in for their sense of belonging to Pakistan. On multiple occasions, such as at this social event, I was able to observe how these links to Pakistan and contemporary Pakistani culture were forged, embraced, and used as a form of gaining further cultural and social capital within the British-Pakistani social group. But also, and most importantly, this was a way of creating a sense of worth and pride in their Pakistani connections, which went against the adverse reactions they faced with the wave of Islamophobia they experienced in their relationships with the wider society. Middle- and upper-class Pakistani immigrants, as well as the women’s own visits to a modern and richer Pakistan, offered them an alternative to the negativity they encountered in their homes and places of work. This was a counternarrative to the internalised racism and negative stereotyping of many British-Pakistanis towards Pakistani migrants, labelling them with a derogatory term of ‘freshie’ (Charsley and Bolognani 2017: 45). Instead, these Pakistani nationals are more akin to the upper-class metropolitan South Asian migrants who are considered desirable, cosmopolitan and ‘model minorities’ in Shankar’s (2008: 2) study.8 Wealthy urban South Asian migrants in Shankar’s study were viewed by other South Asians in the United States as desirable and as possessing cultural capital (2008: 7–8). Wealth and occupation were indicators of social class position, and cultural capital was a measure of their parent’s educational background and career (Shankar 2008: 10 and 12), which was also one reason why many middle-class British-Pakistanis looked up to wealthy Pakistani nationals.

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For Ruby, who was born and raised in Pakistan, having close family in Pakistan meant that she could offer her children first-hand experience of her natal home. She proudly claimed that her three daughters had a positive association with Pakistan, because they had stayed with family in affluent suburbs of Lahore, and she made sure that she took her children to the high-end, fashionable districts in Lahore. Ruby told me that the fine dining restaurants and trendy cafes she took her children to in Lahore and the designer fashion houses, hotels and beauty spas they visited there were no less glamorous than the ones she visited in New York or London. For Ruby, and for many of my other women, it was essential to take their children on trips to Pakistan so that their children could experience the privileged lifestyle there, and to instil interest and pride in their children about their cultural heritage. Ruby and the other women in my study took their children to the wealthy districts in metropolitan cities in Pakistan to demonstrate that Pakistan was equally as modern, glamorous, and exciting as their holiday destinations in the West. Ruby, Syrah and the other Pakistani nationals I spoke to are examples of transnational migrants, moving across international borders and settling in a new state, while maintaining social connections with the homeland (Glick Schiller and Fouron 1999: 344), enabling ways of belonging to more than one nation state (Guarnizo et al. 2003: 1239). The Pakistani culture that they brought with them (fashion, style, values, language, and customs) was what many second-generation BritishPakistani women aspired to achieve because it was what they regarded as desirable. Knowledge of this culture (cultural capital) earned secondgeneration British-Pakistanis social capital. It opened them up to the social circles of British-Pakistanis and Pakistanis nationals who had connections to wealthy and influential Pakistanis in both Britain and Pakistan. The Pakistani nationals I spoke to were fiercely patriotic about their homeland, but at the same time they were trying to make Britain their home. Their transition to life in Britain was a seamless one, as they did not experience problems settling down because most were professionals and successful entrepreneurs who began earning high salaries as soon as they settled in Britain. As with the professional South Asian migrants in the United States (Shankar 2008: 12), Pakistani nationals have also been able to settle in desirable neighbourhoods and send their children to the best schools. Meanwhile, as Pakistani nationals were reaping the benefits of financial security in Britain, many British-Pakistanis sought out

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similar opportunities in Pakistan. British-Pakistanis who had earned financial success in Britain through business ventures or their careers were able to make investments in Pakistan that earned them status and social capital among the elites in Pakistan. These British-Pakistanis were able to make connections, socially and professionally, with wealthy Pakistani nationals in both Pakistan and Britain, something that the women mentioned on various occasions. Roshan had told me that some of the newly wealthy British-Pakistanis she came across were brash and showed off their new status by declaring out loud how many properties they had. According to Roshan, British-Pakistanis with their recently acquired socio-economic status invested in expensive properties both at home and in Pakistan. Investing in property in Pakistan meant that they were elevating their socio-economic status not only in Britain, but also in Pakistan. At the same time, many of the women pointed out that many British-Pakistanis were discreet and humble about their upward social mobility, as exposure to a middle-class lifestyle was not something new or out of reach. Amber’s parents and relatives who were originally working-class had achieved prosperity through successful business ventures. This not only enabled them to improve the socio-economic status of their relatives in Pakistan via remittances, but also permitted them to purchase properties in exclusive suburbs of major cities in Pakistan. Amber’s parents were accustomed to a privileged lifestyle in Pakistan. They spent several months a year in Karachi where they had bought a house and spent their time relaxing, socialising and dining out at exclusive restaurants. Amber explained that it was common among British-Pakistanis who had achieved financial success in Britain to invest in luxury properties in Pakistan and to spend part of the year there. Those women whose parents originated from modest backgrounds had relatives in Pakistan who were now enjoying a new social status acquired through remittances from close relatives who settled in Britain, and though their own children’s socio-economic achievements. Nadia had mentioned that she and her sister were the first to go to university among her generation in her family. Growing up, when she visited family in Pakistan, she noted stark cultural differences. Her relatives in Pakistan were from a modest background and had very little knowledge of life outside Pakistan. On her most recent visit to Pakistan, she noticed the dramatic changes that had occurred in the lifestyle and attitudes of her relatives. A number of her relatives had become wealthy, allowing them to move from small towns and villages into the major cities in Pakistan.

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Most of Nadia’s cousins in Pakistan now had professional careers, and higher education had become the norm and expectation for the younger generation. Her uncles and aunts who once lived modestly now prospered through their children’s achievements, which elevated their own socioeconomic status. Nadia’s cousins were familiar with popular culture in the West through the media, and they saw themselves as cosmopolitan, accustomed to travelling abroad and being connected to friends and family worldwide through social media.

Pakistani Culture as a Source of Class Distinction and Cultural Capital The ‘women only’ dinner dance I attended with Farah and her friends was advertised as ‘Ladies’ Night’. It took place at the Lombard Suite in North Manchester, a purpose-built venue that was popular among BritishPakistanis for hosting weddings, pre-wedding parties, and other social events.9 This event is the focal point of this chapter because it offers an insight into the ways in which the women in my study performed and defined their British-Pakistani identity within a British-Pakistani context. It also demonstrates how, through the women’s interactions during the event, they created a sense of belonging while building their social capital. This dinner dance was an opportunity for me to observe how these issues were put into practice. British-Pakistani identity was manifested through conviviality, which gave meaning and value to this identity. Essentially, social gatherings were arenas in which interests, values, aspirations, experiences and ideals collaborated to create a British-Pakistani identity, which was evolving and in flux. These parties were significant to the women I spoke to, and a great deal of effort went into a ‘night out’. Social events were an opportunity to demonstrate one’s social and cultural capital. I had asked the women on various occasions why they invested in their appearance so much when going out. Their response was unanimous. For the women, a party was an opportunity to get dressed up and look glamorous to impress their friends. The women stated that there was competition and pressure to dress up for social events, as everyone took note of what others were wearing and how they looked. At these parties, I often heard women exchanging complements with one another on their makeup, hair, jewellery, shoes and outfits.

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All the women were dressed up in party wear and looked as though they had had their hair and makeup done professionally for the occasion. Most of the women sported ‘big hair’- backcombed and curled - and wore heavy eye makeup and false lashes. The look was very dramatic. Some were in the latest styles of Pakistani dress, while others wore Western clothes such as cocktail dresses, body con dresses, short sequined skirts, wet-look leggings and chiffon blouses, sequined blazers and leather trousers. They accessorised their outfits with sparkling costume jewellery and coordinating high heels and handbags. A few women attending the event wore headscarves. The women from Pakistan had sleeker hair styles, and subtle makeup and jewellery. Their outfits were more understated yet more daring, in that they opted for sheerer fabrics and were less concerned about baring flesh than the more conservative second-generation British-Pakistani women. The emphasis was on textures, drape and, more importantly, the quality of the fabrics, and these nuances in clothing were an indicator of social class background, while the second-generation British-Pakistanis opted for flamboyancy: big hair, bold makeup, towering heels and outfits that were embellished with sequins. The Pakistani nationals at the Ladies’ Night could be distinguished from second-generation British-Pakistanis through Bourdieu’s (1984) notion of taste. Personal taste feels natural, thus others’ taste is rejected as unnatural, and it is this reluctance to accommodate different lifestyles that is the main barrier between classes. This is particularly so for those who regard themselves as having the legitimate culture, which is why it is necessary for them to maintain these distinctions of taste as a marker of difference (Bourdieu 1984: 49). Somehow, British-Pakistani women knew this, and looked up to their acquaintances who were Pakistani nationals as ideals to be observed and copied. Although Bourdieu’s (1984) work on distinction refers to contemporary European society, I argue that some aspects of his theory on capital can be used to explain the negotiations and arrangements between middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester. Talking to the women, their knowledge of and competence in traditional and contemporary Pakistani culture emerged as a marker of cultural capital.10 Among middle-class second-generation British-Pakistanis, factors such as the socio-economic status of their relatives in Pakistan, transnational connections to Pakistan, and exposure to the customs and culture associated

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with wealthy Pakistanis in Pakistan all amounted to social capital. Therefore, other factors were as salient as economic factors in establishing social class division.11 Bourdieu (1984: 5) argued that there was a direct link between cultural capital, education, and family background (parents’ occupation). Although Bourdieu (1984: 15) suggested that cultural capital could be appropriated in many ways, the effectiveness of education in increasing cultural capital was very much dependent on the cultural capital inherited from family. This was evident in my study. While the women I spoke to had attained middle-class status, it was the combination of their family background and their education that would place them on an equal footing (or not) in terms of taste and style in comparison to Pakistani nationals. Interestingly, this new group of immigrants, rather than the non-Asian British establishment, worked as a point of reference and measurement for British-Pakistani women’s achievements. This explains why there was an apparent distinction in dress and demeanour between the Pakistani nationals and the secondgeneration British-Pakistani women that I met. Similarly nuances like bearing, posture, pronunciation, clothing, mannerisms, and presentation are deeply embodied and unconsciously reproduced, and become signifiers of social class origins (Bennett et al. 2009: 154; Bourdieu 1984: 238). These unconsciously registered signifiers were key factors in deciding who is identified with, and who is not (Bourdieu 1984: 238). This internalised form of class conditioning is what Bourdieu referred to as ‘class habitus’ (1984: 101), enabling one to classify practices as well as to differentiate and acknowledge these tastes and practices (Bourdieu 1984: 166). Bourdieu illustrated that those who acquired cultural capital through education had to prove themselves, because the capital that they had amassed has been recently gained, rather than embodied from childhood. They had to work hard to accumulate cultural capital to become bourgeois, while among those born into status, cultural capital had been passed down through the generations (Bourdieu 1984: 223, 15). The Pakistani nationals could be taken as examples of this inherited class habitus, and hence became models for the second-generation women. They exuded confidence, their style and elegance were effortless; something that could not merely be learnt. Bourdieu (1984: 330–331) also made this distinction by stating that the petit bourgeoisie took culture too seriously to avoid making mistakes, or worse; to be seen as ignorant.

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Hence, they lacked the familiar relationship with culture, meaning they were not as relaxed or confident as those born into the culture. Capital, either social or cultural according to Bourdieu (1986), was essential for mobilising into other resources for securing advantage and exploiting for social class reproduction (Cederberg 2012: 61), to preserve class advantage and to maintain social inequality (Weller 2010). For Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992) and Portes (1998), social capital referred to resources acquired by individuals through belonging to a social network (Warr 2006: 498). Social capital at this event, and throughout my fieldwork, was used by some in the same context as Bourdieu (1986) described for maintaining exclusiveness and exploiting social class reproduction (Cederberg 2012: 62). It was a measure to prevent the ‘wrong’ kind of people entering their circles (Gauntlett 2011).

Ladies Night I was informed about this ‘ladies only’ dinner and dance event by Farah. She insisted that I go, as it would be a good experience for me, not only for my research but also as an opportunity to meet other British-Pakistanis. She suggested that I book the tickets early to avoid disappointment since it was a popular event and sold out quickly. I went to the dance with Farah, Arifa, her close friend from college, and Naz, a friend she had made through the mosque. I attended this event twice during my fieldwork. The format, themes, style and conversations that took place at the event were very similar to most other such events that I visited during my fieldwork, which at times made it all the more challenging to distinguish one event from another. Ladies’ Night was an event organised by two second-generation British-Pakistani sisters, Amina and Diba. Their parents, who had emigrated from Pakistan in the 1960s, were a part of the first generation to become socially mobile after moving to Britain. Amina and Diba’s mother was a successful businesswoman who had established a business empire while raising her children. Their family were an example of firstgeneration Pakistanis who prospered in Britain by achieving a better material position through success in business, therefore gaining a prominent social status among British-Pakistanis in Manchester. The wealth that they had amassed in Britain through their success in business elevated them to elite status. This status enabled Amina and Diba’s family to gain access to a privileged lifestyle of socialising with notable figures in the

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worlds of show business and politics in Britain, Pakistan and India. I was told that among the guests at Amina and Diba’s younger sister’s wedding were several Bollywood stars and Pakistani politicians. Many Pakistanis who moved to Britain in the 1950s and 1960s seized new opportunities that may not have been available to them had they stayed in Pakistan and become socially mobile there. I met the sisters twice during my fieldwork, on both occasions at the Ladies’ Night event. Their names were mentioned in conversation on several occasions by different people during my fieldwork. I came to realise that Amina and Diba were well connected among many BritishPakistanis in Manchester and were friends and acquaintances of many of the women. The two sisters collaborated with their friend Bina, whose brother owned the venue where the event took place. Bina’s father and uncle were also very well-known among the first-generation Pakistanis who moved to Manchester in the late 1950s. They had a large share in the garment wholesale business in Manchester. Bina’s father and uncle built up a business portfolio very quickly after moving to Manchester from Pakistan and earned a reputation as one of the established Pakistani families, expanding their social networks with other Pakistanis in Manchester. Unlike other Pakistanis who moved to Northern towns to join the unskilled and low-paid labour force in cloth manufacturing, many Pakistanis who settled in Manchester exploited the garment manufacturing business, following in the footsteps of migrants who had settled in Manchester before them (Werbner 1990: 50). The garment manufacturing industry has traditionally been popular and attractive among migrant settlers because of the relatively little expertise and capital required to start a business (Werbner 1990: 54). The sisters came from an impressive entrepreneurial background and exploited this niche in the market by organising a ‘ladies only’ dinner dance. Amina and Diba first started the Ladies’ Night event in 2003, and originally it was held twice a year. Amina explained that this event had been very popular from the start and, because of the demand, she was contemplating making it a quarterly event. The Nawaab restaurant in Levenshulme and the Lombard Suite in North Manchester were the main banqueting suites that catered to the British-Pakistani population in Manchester. During my fieldwork experience, I discovered that these were the only venues hired by British-Pakistanis for conferences, social events and charity dinners. The same venues were also popular for weddings among British-Pakistanis. Each time I visited the Lombard

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Suite, the room was barely recognisable as the ambience, lighting, seating and decor was tailored every time to suit the occasion. Like the Nawaab, the Lombard Suite was renowned for the quality, value for money, presentation, and variety of dishes it served. Therefore, this collaboration of women from impressive entrepreneurial backgrounds creating and promoting this event proved to be successful. The tickets for the event were £20 each, which included entertainment and a buffet. The event was advertised through social media, instant messaging, and word of mouth. Tickets could be purchased at the door, or many women pre-booked through the people advertising the event. I was told by Farah to purchase my ticket from Fatima, one of the organisers of the event and a friend of Amina and Diba, who was promoting this event. As I entered the venue with Farah and her friends Naz and Arifa, we passed a chocolate fountain where guests could purchase fruit kebabs or marshmallows dipped in melted chocolate. This event also supported small businesses in Manchester. At the entrance to the suite there were a number of stalls laid out. I had not been aware that there were going to be stalls at this event. There were some selling organic beauty products, another selling soaps and scented candles. There were also stalls selling ‘halal sweets’, cupcakes and macarons, artisan chocolates and homemade confectionary. A few stalls sold scarves and costume jewellery, and also Pakistani clothes that British-Pakistani women had imported from Pakistan. The stalls seemed to be very busy. As the women arrived, they claimed the tables they wanted to sit at with their friends by leaving their belongings such as coats and shawls on the back of the chairs, before heading to the stalls. The stalls added to the experience of the evening. Instead of remaining seated, browsing through the merchandise created an opportunity to mingle with the other guests and to meet new people. It was also a good way of keeping guests occupied while waiting for the entertainment to start. I accompanied Farah and Naz to the stalls selling Pakistani clothes, which seemed to be the busiest and most popular. The prices ranged from £40–£100 and all the stalls selling Pakistani clothes had a similar prices and similar designs. The women held the outfits against themselves to get an idea of the sizes. Others tried on the outfits behind the partitioning screens at the entrance of the suite where they could not be seen. The Pakistani clothes on sale were casual wear and semi-formal. Farah said that the clothes were perfect either to wear at home or when visiting friends and family for dinner but were not elaborate or formal enough to wear to

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special occasions such as this and similar events, or for weddings or Eid. Farah noted that Pakistani fashion was popular among British-Pakistani women because it was influenced by fashion in the West. Popular styles included silk shirt dresses in different lengths to be worn with leggings, or long kimono-style pieces to wear over plain chemises. Many of the dresses had motifs or ornate designs on the back, which Farah said were copies of those by original Pakistani designers but sold at a fraction of the price. Farah pointed out that most British-Pakistanis she knew were familiar with Pakistani haute couture through relatives in Pakistan, Pakistani nationals in Britain, and the fact that importing designer clothes from Pakistan was a lucrative business for many British-Pakistanis. The women working on the stalls told me that they ran their clothes businesses from home, and they also sold Pakistani designer labels. The stalls were cash only, which is why the items were affordably priced. I saw numerous women taking their cash out to make purchases from the stalls. Farah and Naz bought a couple of outfits each, as they said that they were reasonably priced. I did not have much cash with me, but both Farah and Naz offered to lend me money so I could also buy an outfit if I chose to. White British women ran the majority of the stalls, whereas the stalls selling Pakistani clothes and accessories were run by British-Pakistani women. This event was also an opportunity for people to promote their small businesses. Business cards were displayed on every stall detailing the name, contact and other information of the business. The stalls were eyecatching, which drew in customers. The merchandise was presented in pretty gift boxes lined with tissue paper, and the confectionary could also be purchased gift wrapped in cellophane and tied with ornate bows and ribbons. The women took their time at each stall, leisurely looking at and touching the merchandise, smelling the candles, bath bombs and soaps. All the products seemed popular and were selling rapidly. Naz said that many of her purchases were gifts for friends and family, for birthdays or to take when invited to a dinner party. Many women bought cupcakes and confectionary to take home. Round tables seating ten were arranged around the dance floor, with approximately twenty tables in total. There was much attention to detail: the table settings, the flower arrangements and the candles on the tables added to the ambience. The stage and the dancefloor were the focal points. The stage was decorated with shimmering gold drapes. The lighting in the room was dimmed and multi-coloured, and glittering disco lights were reflected from the stage onto the dancefloor. There was also

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a DJ on the stage running the decks. The music was an eclectic mix of Bollywood, bhangra, hip hop and British pop. Some guests were seated, chatting among friends and acquaintances. The women attending were mainly in their twenties, thirties and forties. I saw a group of girls in their late teens dressed in cocktail dresses: Amina’s daughter and her friends from school that she had invited to the event. Amina had specified ‘no children’ at the event because it was an opportunity for women to relax and to socialise among friends without having to run around after young children. However, the invitation was open to teenage girls accompanied by an adult, although I did not notice many teenagers. The first hour of the event was an opportunity for guests to arrive, socialise with friends, and browse through the stalls. Although the DJ was playing music, the dancefloor was empty for the first hour. I spoke to Amina and Bina about the event. Amina drew attention to the fact that, for British-Pakistani women from conservative backgrounds, ‘women only’ functions were opportunities for them to express themselves, to dress up and enjoy dancing with their friends. Amina suggested that many British-Pakistani women avoided pubs and clubs because drinking and dancing in mixed company were cultural taboos, and pointed out that in recent years more women were becoming increasingly devout in their faith and, despite the fact that they had gone clubbing in the past, they had now turned their back on that lifestyle. In the absence of male onlookers, women seized the opportunity to dress up and even to wear outfits that were more revealing than they would otherwise wear in public. While the three women organising this event were not themselves concerned with conservative values, they wanted to tailor the events to the needs of the majority. The demand for this event and its popularity gave the women hosting this event recognition and prominence among women who were interested in the event. The main aim for Amina, Diba and Bina was that it would be a memorable event for the guests. After an hour, Amina came on stage to welcome the guests. When all the women had sat down at the tables, Amina thanked the guests for supporting the event, describing the event as a celebration of South Asian heritage among friends. Amina then introduced a dance troupe to perform choreographed routines to popular Bollywood songs on the dance floor. They were dressed in jewel-coloured lehengas and matching cropped tops and wore Indian bangles and sparkling bindis.12 The dance troupe were all sisters of dual black and white heritage.13 Once the music

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started and they began dancing, the audience were euphoric. The dancers encouraged the audience to get up and dance too. The dance floor quickly filled up - the guests did not need much encouragement. This event was advertised as a celebration of British-Pakistani culture and was ‘women only’ to cater for conservative Muslims. It was a misleading assumption of mine to think that this event was ‘exclusively British-Pakistani’ given that the entertainers, stalls, and some of the guests were not Pakistani. Some British-Pakistani women had brought along their non-Asian friends to this event.14 In all, there must have been approximately ten non-Asian women: mostly white, a couple of black women, and one Chinese woman. Among the guests there were quite a few Hindu women. I knew this because they wore bindis, which is not the custom among Pakistanis. I was already familiar with Pakistani fashion because of my background, and Indian fashion through my friendships with British Hindus. This enabled me to make the distinction between Pakistani and Indian styles. From what I was told by some of the women in my study, and from what I knew from my own experiences as a British-Pakistani, some of the current trends in Pakistani fashion did not make their way into India. Indian-style clothes came in bolder colours, and the saris and other outfits showed more skin in comparison to most Pakistani dress. Pakistani fashion tended to be slightly more conservative, to cater to the demands and tastes of more conservative Muslim customers. Also, Pakistani fashion focussed greatly on the fabrics, such as the textures and drape. After thirty minutes of dancing, Amina returned to the stage to announce that the guests should make their way to the buffet, and that the disco would resume after the buffet. The DJ continued playing music on the decks during the meal. I sat with Farah, her sister Zara, Arifa and Nighat (Farah and Zara’s friends from college), Farah’s friend Naz, and also Farah’s acquaintances, three women who had moved to Manchester from Pakistan. We decided to sit at the table and wait for the queue to go down before we headed to the buffet table at the far end of the suite. I noticed the stall holders packing up to leave. The stalls had been very popular and most of the goods had sold out. Farah and her friends from Pakistan conversed in a mix of English and Urdu. I observed self-consciousness among the second-generation British-Pakistani women in the presence of Pakistani national women. At the Ladies’ Night event, the ways in which Farah and the other women dressed and behaved allowed them to achieve recognition among the

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women from Pakistan sitting at their table. As I mentioned earlier, the Pakistani nationals who had recently settled in Britain were from a wealthy and privileged background. Even though they had set-up home in Britain, they still maintained strong links to Pakistan through friends and family they left behind with whom they maintained close ties. Through these contacts and frequent visits to Pakistan, they were able to keep up to date with current affairs, politics and popular culture in Pakistan. Farah seemed very self-conscious and reticent in the presence of these women. Her friend Arifa was less aware that she was sitting among middle-class women from Pakistan, who saw themselves as more refined than their second-generation British-Pakistani counterparts. Arifa laughed loudly and told bawdy jokes and made innuendos throughout the evening, whereas the other women at the table were more restrained. Arifa spoke in Punjabi to emphasise words and sentences. The women had pointed out on several occasions that, among Pakistanis, Punjabi was considered to be a less sophisticated vernacular, and it was more cultured to speak Urdu in public. This was one of many faux pas Arifa unwittingly made throughout the evening. For Farah and some of her friends, it was social capital—a direct consequence of social class reproduction through family—that enabled them to engage with Pakistani nationals. Farah had mentioned on a few occasions that her parents were from an established background in Pakistan, which made her familiar with middle-class Pakistani culture in Pakistan. Like many other women in my study, Farah was engaging in transnational social fields through her upbringing, relatives, friends, and trips to Pakistan. The deep embodiment of these experiences gave her cultural competence and knowledge of Pakistani culture, which earned Farah social status among the Pakistani nationals she knew in Manchester. Levitt (2009: 1226) notes that supposing second-generation migrants do not have the same ties to ancestral home as their parents, the impact of being raised in transnational social fields should not be underestimated. Through transnational social fields the second-generation master certain skills such as the ability to understand the rules and institutions of the country they live in and of the country their parents left behind. This enables them to achieve the necessarily social skills for both settings. Essentially, the second generation from wealthy Pakistani families did not have the same struggle to copy Pakistani nationals as the second generation from working-class backgrounds who had become socially mobile in the UK and are now middleclass.

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Many of the women had told me that the second-generation BritishPakistanis who were not exposed to the middle-class lifestyle in Pakistan via transnational social fields through friends, family and trips to Pakistan preferred to socialise with second-generation British-Pakistanis rather than Pakistani nationals. This allowed them to avoid being labelled as ‘pehndoo’ for their lack of knowledge and experience of current Pakistani culture among those who had cultural competence.15 I heard the terms ‘pehndoo’ and ‘backward’ being used by the women on numerous occasions, to describe people perceived as unrefined and ignorant. The women explained the relationship of Pakistani nationals with British-Pakistanis and pointed out that they looked down upon second-generation BritishPakistanis because most were from a rural and working-class background. It then became apparent that to avoid this derogatory label, many second-generation British-Pakistanis attempted to keep up to date with the customs, style and culture associated with affluent Pakistanis from Pakistan to prove they were of equal social status.16 Language was key: to be well-spoken and fluent in Urdu was an indicator of social class background.17 Second-generation British-Pakistanis whose parents were from an established background in Pakistan had this advantage. Those who did not, but wanted to contend with Pakistani nationals, improved their Urdu speaking skills not only through socialising with Pakistanis nationals, but also by watching Pakistani serials on satellite Pakistani channels and learning about Pakistani popular culture and customs through the internet and other media. This exposure to Pakistani culture through media and socialising also enabled them to pick up nuances associated with cosmopolitan and socially mobile Pakistanis. Above all, access to this culture gave second-generation British-Pakistanis recognition and respect among the Pakistani nationals. Likewise, secondgeneration Indian-Americans in Maira’s (2002) study also looked up to South Asian culture and regarded ‘Indian culture’ as superior to ‘Western culture’. They looked down on Indian-American peers who lacked the knowledge and performance of Indian culture. Indian culture served as ‘a cultural logic of authenticity that creates distinctions and hierarchies’ (Maira 2002: 131), and the same can be said about Pakistani culture in my study. Pakistani nationals were not the only source of social capital for second-generation British-Pakistanis: it could also be earned among their second-generation British-Pakistani friends and also by other means such as through their involvement in their local community, the mosque

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community, and the school community, discussed in Chapter 3. Though charitable and community work, they earned social capital in the way described by Putnam (2000: 22). While Bourdieu explained social capital as part of the processes that generate social inequality, other scholars draw on social capital to describe social connectedness (Gauntlett 2011: 2). For example, Putnam maintains that social capital means interconnectedness within a network of trust, arguing that the pillars of social capital are the family and neighbourhood, and that trust is based on social norms, obligations and social networks such as voluntary organisations (Putnam 2000: 22). Actions and behaviours that are positively recognised by the group engender trust which galvanises social capital through positive communal relations (Siisiäinen 2000: 2, 4, and 19). In my study, social capital has been used in both kinds of processes, as a means of generating distinction, which ultimately leads to social inequality; and as a means for promoting community and social connectedness, as described above. Being able to earn social capital in more than one way meant that many second-generation British-Pakistanis did not have to be familiar with Pakistani culture, or the values and interests of wealthy Pakistanis from Pakistan, in order to gain recognition. Having different means of social capital was more egalitarian: a number of women I spoke to said that there were many middle-class Pakistanis who did not have access to the culture and lifestyle of privileged Pakistanis in Pakistan. Farah observed that the families of second-generation British-Pakistanis who were out of touch with their cultural heritage had generally come from a modest background in Pakistan. British-Pakistanis who held a more negative view of Pakistan and eschewed their cultural heritage were an indication among those in my study that they had not experienced middle-class urban life in Pakistan, and that they were embarrassed about their background.18 Hence, those whose relatives in Pakistan had not caught up to their socioeconomic status espoused a British Muslim identity as opposed to a British-Pakistani one. Consequently, many British-Pakistanis affiliated themselves with the mosque through charity work, garnering capital through a British Muslim identity. However, the majority of women I came across in the field, including the women I was studying, were proud of their heritage. They engendered an image of Pakistan as rich in material and culture, as progressive and modern. This image, one which they created to represent their heritage—‘where they were from’—was maintained regardless of how often, if ever, they visited Pakistan. Events such

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as the Ladies’ Night were occasions to celebrate this identity, one which the women believed was superior to a white British identity. I listened to the conversations that the second-generation BritishPakistanis were having with the Pakistani nationals at my table during dinner. They discussed the fashionable districts of large cities in Pakistan that they had visited to show that they too were well connected in Pakistan. In the presence of Pakistanis nationals, the second-generation British-Pakistanis did not want to appear ignorant about Pakistan, and on their trips to Pakistan they made sure that they visited, shopped and dined at the popular places in the large metropolitan cities like Lahore, Karachi and Islamabad. The kind of belonging here points to the creation of a transnational social field through these relationships between Pakistani nationals and second-generation British-Pakistanis. This transnational identity gives second-generation s British-Pakistanis a feeling of belonging to contemporary Pakistan which is a privileged one, passed down by those with the means to access it. I argue this also gave the women in my study a sense of pride, through having a positive identification with their ancestral home. This identification and the attachment of second-generation migrants to their ancestral homeland is described by Wolf (2002) as ‘emotional transnationalism’ (cited in Lee 2011: 307). This image of Pakistan was not representative of Pakistan as a whole but was rather a narrow focus on a privileged section of society. The women upheld this image through conversation, and the Pakistani media and Pakistani nationals engendered this positive image of Pakistan. It seemed to me that these imaginaries were salient for self-esteem because these women did not want to be associated with the negative portrayal of Pakistan and Pakistanis that dominated Western media. At social events, the women could shut themselves off from the cultural and religious hostility present in the West. Events like these became arenas for celebrating Pakistani patriotism and identifying positively with Pakistani culture and heritage. This is akin to Maqsood’s study of middle-class Pakistanis, in which sharing, celebrating and reminiscing about a positive image of Pakistan is salient for self-representation, particularly when the world’s view of Pakistan is a negative one associated with terrorism and religious fanaticism (2017: 35).19 At these events, Pakistani culture and heritage was presented in a positive way, one seldom acknowledged by people outside this ethnic group. While some of the women had not visited Pakistan often, positive memories and experiences of Pakistan through their transnational

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identity were sufficient to enable them to participate in conversations about Pakistani culture. Levitt and Glick Schiller (2004: 1010–1011) claim that direct connections to the ancestral home were not a prerequisite for engaging in transnational social fields. Information, affiliation to those enmeshed in transnational social fields, ways of belonging, imagination and nostalgia were some of the ways of creating and maintaining transnational connections. Although some British-Pakistanis could physically share the same experiences of being in Pakistan, those who could not were able to engage in Pakistani culture through the fresh ideas that Pakistanis nationals brought with them from Pakistan.

Culture, Respectability, Conviviality and Competition As the queue went down, our table headed to the buffet. The buffet was a selection of Pakistani and international foods. There were several different types of salads to choose from: Caesar, Waldorf, pasta, potato, Greek, chickpea salad, and bean salad to name a few. The starters consisted of kofte kebabs, samosas, spicy chicken wings, chicken kebabs and spring rolls. The main courses included classic Pakistani dishes such as pilau rice, biryani and variety of different curries which were served alongside stirfries, and noodle and pasta dishes. While standing at the buffet table, Farah suggested that I should bring my daughter along to these events to instil interest in ‘our culture’ and enabling her to witness for herself that ‘Pakistanis are not boring, and they have fun and glamour too’. I replied that my children were exposed to culture through family and that they enjoyed family gatherings. Farah insisted that family was not enough to instil a strong Pakistani identity, and the influence of friends was just as influential as family in shaping identity. Farah reiterated the importance of familiarising children with Pakistani culture through Pakistani events to encourage interest, awareness, and pride in their Pakistani heritage. She explained that it was necessary to introduce children to Pakistani social events and Muslim social events as an opportunity to meet other Muslims and Pakistanis their age, and to learn more about their religion and heritage. Farah told me that growing up, her parents made sure that she and her siblings accompanied them to cultural events and religious gatherings, which was their way of imparting a strong ethnic identity and sense of belonging. Much

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of Farah’s values had been instilled by her parents and shaped by her upbringing, as discussed in Chapter 4. Farah advised me, You have to be very careful when it comes to your children, because it is important to let them mix culturally within their own culture so they have a sense of pride, belonging and identity being Pakistani. (November 2013)

These ideas are similar to those described in Maira’s (2002) study of second-generation Indian-Americans, where the purpose of cultural events was to implement the definition of ‘Indian culture’ through the enactment and performance of ethnic identity through language, music, dance and clothing. The purpose of ethnic events was to cultivate a South Asian cultural identity. The celebration of Indian culture in the diaspora was an act of ‘cultural authentication’—the performance of culture to manifest and validate culture. Through each act, you will observe the magnificent beauty of our culture; your eyes will witness the richness of our diversity…These acts portray who we are and manifest the facts that our acts come from some sort of ancient tradition. (Maira 2002: 120)

Back at the table, Farah was greeted by a second-generation BritishPakistani woman called Iram. She had blonde streaks in her hair which she wore half up and half down, carefully styled to look shabby. She also wore a very revealing outfit, and had a coarse raspy voice, and spoke loudly with a broad Mancunian accent. After Iram had left the table, Farah looked at me and explained apologetically that the woman she was talking to was a ‘lovely girl’ and was an ‘old and very dear friend who was very kind’. I got the impression that Farah was concerned that I would judge her for having friends that were not as polished as the people she associated herself with. At the same time, Farah did not want to come across as harsh or judgmental, and highlighted the fact that she did not judge people by their clothes or background. Farah’s attitude towards Iram resonates with Skegg’s (1997) notion of respectability. According to Skeggs (1997), class distinction is very much enmeshed in the distinction between respectable and non-respectable, for instance the idea of ‘rough working-class’ (Tyler 2011: 525). As respectability is measured in relation to middle-class values (Tyler 2011: 526), it was not surprising that Farah felt protective towards

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her friend Iram and did not want me or her middle-class friends to judge her acquaintance as being ‘rough and not-respectable’ because of the way she spoke and dressed. Both Iram and Farah’s friend Arifa had caused Farah some slight embarrassment, because both had failed to tailor their performance to appeal to the Pakistani women with whom Farah associated herself at the table. They had clearly misread or overlooked the social context and nuances of these Pakistani women who were seated at the table, failing to recognise what was acceptable behaviour to them. To be accepted by middle-class Pakistanis from Pakistan mattered to Farah and for most of the women, which made them behave in a certain manner that would appeal to the Pakistanis nationals, fulfilling their expectations of what middle-class Pakistani migrants should be like. Goffman (1959: 44) mentions that a performance is ‘socialised’, customised and adapted to comply with the expectations and understanding of the interlocutors that they are appealing to. A performance gives its audience an idealised impression of the performer: the intent of the performance is to epitomise the values that are most esteemed by the group. Similarly, Fathi, in her study of Iranian women in the UK (2017), highlights the importance of class identity, which is fluid and contextual. Fathi argues that the performance of class is created collectively and governed by social context, and therefore the meaning and interpretation of these performances are dependent on the audience. Thus, status and recognition are established through class-coded practices, and these practices are used for inclusion and exclusion (2017: 100). I followed Farah and the women who sat at her table back to the buffet table for dessert. Again, there was a large selection of desserts to choose from. The platters of fruit were beautifully presented and looked mouthwatering. There were also bowls of Pakistani desserts and an eye-catching display of delicate French patisseries. So much thought and effort had been gone into the presentation of the desserts. Teas and coffees were also being served alongside the desserts. The women returned to their tables with their selection of desserts and tea and coffee. During dessert, as the women were seated, women came to each table selling raffle tickets. Those on my table bought at least one ticket each, including myself. After dessert the lights were dimmed again, the music got louder, and the lights started flashing on the dance floor. The waiting staff cleared the buffet table before clearing the tables where the guests were sitting. The music was loud and energetic, and a few women got up

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to dance. Very soon the dance floor was full and the tables almost empty, with only a handful of women remaining seated. The women gyrated to hip hop, danced enthusiastically to Psy, a Korean pop artist, belly danced to Arab music, showed off their Bollywood dancing skills and danced to popular UK chart hits. Farah, Zara and their friends were all showing off their dance moves. I realised that being able to dance to a variety of different genres of music was an accomplished skill recognised at the social events I had attended during my fieldwork. As the night went on, it became clear to me that the Ladies’ Night event was not simply an opportunity to relax, enjoy oneself, and make friends. It was an opportunity to assert and establish British-Pakistani identity and values. Over my fourteen months in the field, I attended many similar events and I noticed that the topics of the women’s conversations at these events were recurrent and seemed to point to a pattern in terms of moral values. For instance, one of the topics of discussions at our table was children’s education and the schools their children attended. It seemed imperative to the women I met at this event and at other social occasions to find out how other children were performing at school as a way of measuring their own children’s academic progress. Social events were arenas for women to show off their children’s achievements and academic abilities, and also to show off their own parenting skills. The women exchanged values that they were imparting to the next generation. In this way, the women established rules, boundaries and expectations for the next generation of British-Pakistanis. Another topic of conversation related to religion and family values. While sitting at the table, Farah’s sister Zara discussed the importance of religious and cultural values. The women discussed their upbringing and appreciated that their parents had instilled them with discipline and strong cultural values, giving them a sense of identity and belonging. Zara mentioned that family ‘mahaul ’ (environment/influences) was significant in instilling values in children. She pointed out that while she saw herself as liberal and somewhat Westernised, it was necessary to her to pass on the cultural and religious values she was raised with to her children. Much as Zara encouraged her children to socialise with non-Muslim and nonPakistani children, it was critical to her that her children also socialised with Pakistani and Muslim children, so they had a sense of belonging, and were friends with others who shared a similar family background and values.

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It was also common at these events to hear some women talking about their children’s religious achievements and showing off about their own religious knowledge. They thought highly of women who were able to juggle successful careers and at the same time raise children who are high academic achievers, well-mannered, and have a firm religious grounding. In addition to this, they were impressed by women who possess other qualities and attributes in addition to having a career, such as being a good host, an accomplished cook, or having a flair for fashion and style. Essentially, there was a large amount of competitiveness and pressure among friends, and social events were opportunities where women not only exchanged important information, but also gained inspiration from others. For these women, friendships enhanced their own capacities through knowledge, competitiveness and inspiration. The bar had been raised with the arrival of Pakistani nationals. Farah stated that it was essential to have cultivated taste, to polish one’s Urdu, and to be in touch with Pakistani fashion, style and popular culture, because of the fear of being judged as being ‘pehndoo’ or ‘backward’ in the eyes of Pakistani nationals. Hence many second-generation women felt under pressure to demonstrate this cultural competence to their Pakistani national peers. According to Farah, second-generation British-Pakistanis were intimidated by the wealthy Pakistani nationals who had set-up home in Britain because they were elegant, sophisticated and self-assured, and placed importance on status, speech and appearance. Yet this idea of Pakistani nationals possessing greater social and cultural capital than second-generation British-Pakistanis did not resonate with either Arifa or Iram, and they overlooked such social etiquette on which other women placed so much importance. They were not interested in the Pakistani nationals, unlike Farah and other second-generation BritishPakistanis, because they earned capital by other means. The women had agency that enabled them to make choices about the ways they chose to earn social capital. Their upbringing, experiences, and interests influenced greatly how they wanted to garner capital and among whom they wanted to earn recognition. Therefore, their behaviour resulted from a combination of embodied taste, acquired and inherited habitus and agency. Meanwhile, second-generation British-Pakistanis also felt ambivalent towards the Pakistani nationals who had settled in Britain in recent years, judging from the way that they placed so much importance on things that were deemed superficial. But at the same time, they looked up to them,

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wanting to absorb the kind of cultural capital they possessed. However, according to Farah, one had to find a good balance. Some people, she explained, tried too hard and their behaviour came across as false and contrived. They went as far as appropriating the English accent, idioms and gestures of Pakistani nationals, in an attempt to fit in with them. Their relationships with Pakistani nationals were ambiguous: while they represented an important source of information and knowledge about how to be a middle-class Pakistani, which gave them ideas on ways to be a middle-class British-Pakistani, they could not be taken too seriously as to impinge on their own genuine way of being middle-class second-generation Pakistani immigrants in Manchester. But cultural competence was not limited to Pakistani culture: it also meant possessing the skills to seamlessly slip into different cultural domains. This knowledge and ability was what defined a middle-class British-Pakistani woman. Being a middle-class British-Pakistani was about being contenders in a global market, being consumers of global food, fashion, technology and entertainment, as well as consolidating their ethnic identity. This was evident at the Ladies’ Night event, as some women opted to wear outfits of the latest Pakistani fashion, whereas other chose to wear British high street fashion. Furthermore, the music played, and the food served at this event reflected global and local influences.20 Middle-class British-Pakistani identity has been shaped by processes of globalisation, and influenced by cultural upbringing, popular culture, transnationalism, media and travel. Rytter (2010a: 58) notes that Pakistanis amass a plethora of local, national and transnational identities which they can choose from depending on specific social contexts and recognition by others. The women with whom I did research were selecting elements from the plethora of identities that appealed to them. Thus, the influence of transnationalism, globalisation, popular culture and the influence of Pakistani nationals had a huge impact on shaping a British-Pakistani identity. Consequently, because of these influences, British-Pakistani identity is in a state of flux, evolving and changing over time. Yet the women I spoke to describe this British-Pakistani identity as being concrete and static, something that it was crucial to maintain through the subsequent generations. In reality, what they wanted to pass on to their children was the enthusiasm for their culture and a sense of belonging through identification with other British-Pakistanis. Stories passed down by family members, distant memories of visits to Pakistan and childhood memories of Pakistani social events, and an interest in

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current Pakistani culture were all contributing factors in shaping this British-Pakistani identity. This longing and belonging among secondgeneration migrants and their interest in their parents’ home culture is what Maghbouleh describes as ‘inherited nostalgia’ (2010: 214).21 The retelling of family stories and the consumption of nostalgic popular music are examples of cultural pathways through which second-generation immigrant identities are manifested (Maghbouleh 2010: 214). To this nostalgia, the women added a privileged image of contemporary Pakistan that allowed them to bring this identity up to date with an urban cosmopolitan concept of themselves that showed social mobility in relationship to previous generations.

The Drive Home As the event drew to a close, Amina came back on stage to announce the raffle. Although some women had left after the disco, as others were getting ready to leave Amina, speaking over the microphone, asked the guests to stay for the raffle. She asked friends from the audience to pick out the winning tickets. As her friends went up to the stage, her other friends cheered. The atmosphere was light, and everyone seemed in high spirits as they had enjoyed the evening. Each time a ticket was pulled out, the audience applauded and cheered in excitement as the winner went on stage to claim their prize that Amina had announced. During the raffle, Amina and the audience engaged in banter, as many of the women seated were her good friends. It had also been Amina’s friends who were at the event that had donated the prizes for the raffle. The donations included theatre tickets, beauty products, gift vouchers, chocolates, costume jewellery and vouchers for hair or beauty treatments. The money raised was to be donated to cancer research. On the first occasion I attended the event, I won a voucher for a French manicure, and on my second visit I won a piece of handmade costume jewellery. The raffle went on for over half an hour. There were many prizes to be won, and there was a lot of exchanges of jokes between Amina and her friends in the audience. After the raffle, it was time to leave. Farah and her friends hugged one another before they parted. I followed Farah to her car with Arifa and Naz, as Farah was driving us all back home. Naz and Arifa lived near Farah. Once in the car, Farah, Arifa and Naz reflected on the evening, discussing how much fun they had had. Farah apologised to me light-heartedly for her and her friends’

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rowdy behaviour. I think Farah was hinting more at Arifa’s behaviour in the presence of her friends from Pakistan sitting at our table, and her failure to pick up on the nuances in the company of these women. Arifa said that meeting up with old college friends had made her giddy and encouraged her to behave like a teenager. It was the shared history and experiences stemming from their youth that cemented Arifa and Farah’s friendship. Farah had mentioned to me on numerous occasions that her behaviour and relationship with her friends from college was different from those she made later in life. She was less reserved and more carefree when she was solely in the company of her college friends. The women agreed that the Ladies’ Night was important: that it was necessary to get together and to have a good time with friends. They emphasised the importance of prioritising time to be carefree and to enjoy themselves in the company of friends and on the dancefloor. Arifa changed the tone of the conversation, stating that while she agreed it was necessary to have fun with friends, it was as essential to her to focus on faith as well. Both Farah and Naz agreed with Arifa that religion was also a focal point of their lives, and it was critical to pass on religious values to their children. Naz mentioned that she, Farah and Malia had gone to great lengths to find someone to teach their children the Quran in Arabic. Eventually, after a lot of research, Naz had discovered a woman who lived near her who was willing to teach the Quran in Arabic. The women often highlighted this balance between being frivolous and being reserved. For them, it was imperative to enjoy oneself, but also to demonstrate discipline and religiosity. These often contrasting and conflicting identities had a place and value in their lives. At times the women were eager to demonstrate that their identities were multifaceted, and that the fun they had was controlled and contextualised. At other times, they presented their identities are being fixed and absolute, such as when they described what Pakistani identity meant to them. Therefore, the presentation and understanding of their identities at times was somewhat contradictory. These contradictions served a purpose because meanings, understandings and performances of identities were contextual and underwent re-definition and acquired new meanings to amass capital and recognition. Farah, Naz and Arifa wanted to be seen as dynamic—not as stuffy and boring because of their interest in religion and education. They also wanted to demonstrate a carefree side to their personality. Being British-Pakistani and belonging happened through identifying with different values and interests, which were at times polarised. It was not

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enough to be religious, it was as equally valued to take an interest in the sensuous side of their cultural heritage, and to be worldly. At the same time, it was not sufficient to be worldly without taking note of cultural and religious values and constraints. Thus, the significance of piety and faith is explored in the following chapter. Arifa’s lack of cultural competence and social capital in the presence of the Pakistani nationals could, for instance, be compensated for by her drive, competitiveness and discipline when it came to the religious education of her children, which earned her social capital among her friends. Therefore, the women homed in on their own skills and abilities and utilised them to gain social capital and recognition among their own. The following chapter looks at the relationship between class and piety and explores how piety governs values, friendships and belonging, and the ways in which religious rhetoric is exploited for the purpose of challenging some patriarchal customs.

Notes 1. The Pakistani nationals is a term I use to highlight wealthy Pakistanis who have recently settled in Britain from Pakistan. It is their wealth and status that makes them stand out from other Pakistani migrants who may have settled in Britain in recent years. They are not referred to as ‘Pakistani nationals’ by the women, but simply as ‘friends or family from Pakistan’. 2. Although there are many different languages and dialects spoken in Pakistan, Urdu is the official language and the language that reflects perceived refinement among Pakistanis in Pakistan. 3. In doing this, they are participating in ‘diaspora aesthetics’, a term coined by Werbner and Fumanti (2013: 151) to describe the creation of enclosed worlds which enable alternative forms of cultural celebrations. 4. Werbner (1997: 240) describes this as the ‘aesthetic community’, defined by cultural competence, passion and creativity. 5. Roggeveen and van Meeteren’s (2013) study of social networks among Brazilian immigrants in Amsterdam. 6. The term ‘gora’ is a colloquial word for ‘white person’ (Raj 2003: 212), which could also be construed as a pejorative term. ‘Gorafied’ was coined by British Asians, and is a derogatory label given to Asians who are Westernised and act like a white person. 7. The women could often be contradictory in what they say: their opinions and values change depending on the context and the situation at that present moment. For instance, Hina had several white British friends but

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8. 9. 10.

11.

12.

13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

18.

her rather hostile comments were in response to her experience of prejudice and the negative stereotyping of British-Pakistanis and Muslims not only in the media, but also directed at her by her work colleagues. South Asian migrants in Shankar’s study include Pakistanis and Indian Muslims (2008: 4). The actual name of the venue has been changed for the purpose of anonymity. According to Bourdieu (1986), cultural capital is always contextual and dependent on the social milieu (D’Sylva and Beagan 2011: 281). It refers to non-financial assets such as the cultural knowledge enabling one to seamlessly manoeuvre through a given social field, for the purpose of social mobility, allowing one to transform cultural knowledge into a source of power and status (D’Sylva and Beagan 2011: 281). Cederberg (2012: 61) argues that social capital, cultural capital and symbolic capital (one’s status in relation to other people) are just as notable as economic wealth. A lehenga is a full long skirt worn by South Asian women. A bindi is an ornamental mark worn on the forehead by many Indian women (Maira 2002: 8). ‘Black’ here refers to someone of Afro-Caribbean heritage. I spoke to the dancers after their performance, who they told me that they were managed by their mother and brother. I use the term ‘non-Asian’ to include both white British and people of other backgrounds. Pehndoo is a derogatory word meaning ‘villagey’ or unsophisticated. Similarly, the term ‘backward’ is used by South Asians to mean ‘traditional’ and lacking in social and economic development (Charsley and Bolognani 2017: 51). I heard this term frequently being used by the women in my study to describe British-Pakistanis and Pakistanis in Pakistan who were not progressive and cosmopolitan. Although not all the women’s friends and family had reached middleclass status, according to Tyler (2011: 527) social class becomes about exclusion, which I observed on multiple occasions in my study, particularly at this social event. Two-thirds of women in my study were from a Punjabi background. Middle-class Pakistanis of Punjabi decent spoke to their children in Urdu because it was considered a more refined vernacular. Therefore, secondgeneration women who were more fluent in Punjabi than Urdu were considered ‘pehndoo’ by Pakistani nationals. Bolognani (2014: 115), in her study of British-Pakistanis from the Mirpur district of Pakistan, points out that British-Pakistanis who feel side-lined or excluded in Britain, and who maintain an image of Pakistan as backward,

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corrupt and undeveloped, have created a new British Muslim identity for themselves of which they feel proud. 19. Women in Maqsood’s study reminisced about Pakistan in its heyday during the 1950s and 1960s, having a desirable international reputation as being urban, progressive and cosmopolitan (2017: 36). This was before President Mohammad Zia ul Haq came to power in the 1980s, creating an Islamic dictatorship (Maqsood 2017: 36 and 38). 20. Calhoun defines this as ‘consumer cosmopolitanism’, arguing that music, literature, clothes, food and tourism are all representations of cosmopolitanism (Calhoun 2002: 896). 21. Maghbouleh’s (2010) study of Iranian-American students.

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CHAPTER 7

Class and Piety

I continue in this chapter with the themes of belonging and identity. Moving on from looking at the display and performance of BritishPakistani identity (the relationship between class and ethnic identity) discussed in the previous chapter, or community-building practices such the mosque activities discussed in Chapter 3, this chapter sheds light on the inter-relationship between class and Islam. The women earn capital and belonging through a specific way of expressing piety both visually and spiritually, and this is the meaning of religion to the middle-class British-Pakistani women. What is critical here is how personal religious choices bridge a very personal arena with the desire for public recognition, by both British-Pakistanis and the wider society. The choices the women made and the changes they had recently embraced involved their desire to engage further with their faith (religion), but also to embrace Islam in ways that were specific to their generation. The theme of engagement in capital-earning activities is also important here, but as I will show, moral (being a good Muslim), social (friendship), and cultural (material and symbolic) capital are entangled as most of the women try to bring together religious tradition and gender agency. For this purpose, I have focussed on Amber and Syrah, whose friendship developed from their mutual interest in Islam. Amber had recently become more devout and it was fascinating to see how religion shaped her identity and governed her friendships. Soon after embarking on a religious © The Author(s) 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7_7

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quest she met Syrah, who shared a similar lifestyle and religious outlook.1 Both women also share a love of fashion, and they exchanged ideas and tips with one another about how to combine style and modesty. I have known Amber for almost three decades and watched her become increasingly devout in her faith over the last few years. She turned to her faith to gain strength and solace after one of her children became ill. As she studied the teachings of Islam in more depth, the more she was drawn to it. Even though her motivation to become more devout in her faith was a consequence of a family matter, she explained to me that she was also very much influenced by her wider surroundings. Particularly in the aftermath of 9/11, more and more Muslims were turning to their faith and learning more about Islam, and consequently becoming more manifestly pious. This piety has led to an increasing number of Muslim women adopting the headscarf and Muslim men wearing beards as an expressive embodied commitment to their faith (Tarlo 2010; Sandikci and Ger 2010; Sandikci 2011). Amber had commented to me about this issue on several occasions prior to her becoming more religious, and she was intrigued by other people’s personal desires to become increasingly devout.

Visual Piety Amber had only started wearing a headscarf a few weeks before meeting Syrah in 2010 at her children’s primary school. As they got to know each other, they soon realised they had a lot in common: similar interests, aspirations, lifestyle, passion for fashion, and desire to increase their knowledge of their faith. They encouraged and supported each other as they increased their religious knowledge. Initially, Amber’s family was not very supportive, and it took them time to come around to the idea of her becoming more religious, especially in adhering to the literal interpretations of the scriptures. They also believed it unnecessary to look too deeply in the hadiths or for women to cover their hair.2 The problem was that observing such a strict interpretation of the dress code was a step too far in Amber’s husband’s opinion. He had liked the way she dressed before becoming more religious and had not considered it immodest. However, Amber disagreed with her husband and stood her ground, contesting that there was a strict dress code for women in Islam, which was to cover the hair and wear loose clothing that concealed the shape of the body.

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Amber’s father also disapproved of her new dress code, and for the first few weeks of wearing the headscarf she removed it before she came face to face with him. In her defence to this rather strict interpretation, Amber argued that her religious upbringing had been very basic because her parents only adhered to the five pillars of Islam. The Islam her parents followed was imbued with culture, making it difficult to distinguish want was actually ‘culture’ and what originated from Islamic scriptures.3 The previous generation accepted religious values and rituals passed down by their parents, whereas the present generation were taking a more active approach to religion. Unlike the generation before them, the second generation were undertaking research into religious scriptures to gain a deeper understanding of their faith, one which they did not perceived as tainted by cultural expectations. Maqsood notes that a major grievance among middle-class religious Pakistanis in Pakistan is the fact that too many people fail to distinguish between cultural and religious practices because they blindly follow others without understanding the meaning behind Islamic scriptures (2017: 90). It is common among second-generation Muslims to distance themselves from culturally influenced Islam (Maqsood 2017: 96), and this was the reason why many women believed that their parents’ generation were not following true Islam. According to Yang and Ebaugh, two trends have emerged among Muslim diaspora: a strict and conservative interpretation of Islam, and a distancing from a cultural interpretation of Islam towards one which is universally inclusive (Joly and Wadia 2017: 38). Several women I spoke to during my fieldwork argued that they were more knowledgeable about Islam and practiced their religion more than their parents, because unlike their parents (who were first generation), they were more proactive in their research into Islam. Having access to a myriad of religious literature on the internet has led the second generation to believe that they are better equipped to study and understand Islam than their parents. Second-generation British-Pakistanis were more informed about Islam through accessing knowledge from Islamic literature, books, and an in-depth analysis of the Quran (Ijaz and Abbas 2010: 323).4 Similarly, Maqsood observes that in Pakistan this Islamic trajectory appeals to enlightened middle-class sentiment, as interpretation and understanding relies on literacy and a modern education (2017: 96–97). Along with the easy accessibility of information about the hadiths available through the internet, books, and classes taught at the mosque, it was common for Amber, Syrah and their friends to circulate quotes from

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the hadith via text messaging.5 Therefore, Amber and her friends, and the second generation more widely, had these extra resources at their disposal that facilitated their search for information and knowledge that, they believed, went beyond what they had been given by their parents. As such, they were creating a new habitus, which they wanted to convey to their children and, surprisingly, to their parents—as knowledge is usually transmitted from older to younger generations. Several women had stated that their parents did not have access to indepth knowledge about Islam at their fingertips, and instead relied on the Quran and extracts of the hadiths that they came across or heard at sermons at the mosque. They explained that the first generation, in defence, told their children that the religious knowledge and understanding of Islam they had acquired was sufficient because it covered the five pillars of Islam. From the perspective of the first-generation parents, what their children were doing was unnecessary because, in their opinion, the essence of Islam was lost through literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures. According to the parents of a number of the women, and the findings in Mirza’s (2009: 276) study, parents were not encouraging of their children’s greater religiosity, and preferred their children to put this effort and passion into their studies and think about their future instead. Unlike the second generation, their parents kept faith private and moderate in an effort to fit into a non-Muslim society. The parents of many of the second generation did not want to draw attention to their differences in public, whereas many second-generation BritishPakistanis chose to assert their difference through visual piety such as wearing a headscarf (Mirza 2009: 276). This need to display visual difference among pious Muslims, to differentiate themselves from other faiths groups, seems to be a recent trend. As Mahmood (2011: 45) rightly notes, mosques are promoting the distinction of Muslims from Christians and non-believers not just through religion, but also through the vernacular language, lifestyle, commitment and dress. Syrah mentioned that she was the most religious in her family, the only one to wear a headscarf and to follow a literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures. In her family’s opinion, her approach to religion was too zealous, overtaking all aspects of her life. Syrah spent her leisure time reading about Islam, watching Islamic programmes and listening to Islamic lectures over the internet, as well attending the mosque. Essentially, it was the whole idea of following a religious trajectory that involved leisure time being devoted to worship and increasing religious knowledge,

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and forging friendships with those who were equally dedicated to faith, that appealed to both Syrah and Amber. This enthusiasm to know more about Islam and espouse a Muslim identity brought Syrah and Amber closer because they lacked encouragement from their families and relied on one another for guidance and support. More importantly, having an overarching Muslim identity made them feel they were connected to a global Muslim community, known as the umma.6 Studying the English translation of the Quran and reading Islamic literature in books and online was the beginning of Amber’s religious trajectory that eventually led her to the decision to wear a headscarf, which she believed was mandatory to her faith. Wearing a headscarf adhered to the laws of dress and modesty in Islam and was enmeshed in her Muslim identity. This is also noted in Siraj’s (2011: 720) study of Muslim women in Glasgow, where wearing a veil signifies a woman’s bodily space as Muslim and sacred. Interestingly, although Mahmood (2011: 16) argues that while many scholars describe veiling as an outcome of resistance to the commodification of women’s bodies in the West, they overlook the important fact that veiling is fundamental to Islamic virtues of female modesty or piety. This was critical to Amber and Syrah, as for them veiling represented commitment and devotion to God. In addition, people could recognise in public that they were Muslim.7 According to Tarlo (2010: 56), the headscarf attracts the curiosity of non-Muslims, and hence gives rise to an opportunity to engage in a dialogue about faith with non-Muslims. I use the term ‘visual piety’ to explain this because for the women, the use of the hijab (headscarf) signifies a manifest, almost publicised, commitment to faith and Islamic identity. The hijab carries an important message: to non-Muslims, it signifies Muslim identity and to other Muslims, it shows commitment and devotion to faith. Sandikci and Ger (2010: 18), argue that a number of scholars acknowledge the recent trend of veiling among Muslim women as a global social movement, a collective expression of commitment to Islam.8 Many British Muslim women felt that wearing a headscarf offered them a sense of community and camaraderie among Muslim women who also chose to veil. Veiled women were greeted in the street by complete strangers wearing a headscarf as an acknowledgment of solidarity among Muslims, an experience that made the wearer feel part of a larger, even a global, Islamic community (Tarlo 2010: 54). Amber and Syrah wanted to assert their religious identity in public, and wearing the hijab allowed them to do this. ‘Visual piety’ meant a sense of

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camaraderie—they were among others who were passionate about their faith and wanted to celebrate their pride in being Muslim and were not afraid to express it. For Syrah and Amber, ‘visual piety’ also had a deeper meaning. It was not just about an expression of their religious devotion and identity, it was equally important for them to express their individuality and personality through how they dressed. In the way that they dressed, they wanted to represent themselves as modern, fashionable and independent women, as well as being practicing Muslims.

Fashionably Pious Amber told me that headscarves now compensated for the self-expression that hairstyling allowed, and therefore different styles of wearing headscarves were becoming very popular. Over time she learned to incorporate style into modest dressing and pinned her headscarf in different ways to make it look elegant. After beginning to wear a headscarf, she became more creative and began experimenting with colour, patterns and texture to achieve different looks and styles. She noted that hijab stylists were becoming more popular: it was a lucrative business and there was a myriad of internet sites dedicated to ‘hijab’ fashion. Attitudes to veiling were shifting not only in Manchester: it seems to be an international phenomenon. For example, in Turkey veiling (wearing a headscarf) was once associated with the poor, elderly, and people from rural areas, but now it is commonplace to see young middle-class urban women adopting the headscarf (Sandikci and Ger 2010: 18). This is an outcome of religious women’s desire to look stylish and elegant without appearing to be sexually alluring, thus making aesthetics and style critical to many women opting to veil (Sandikci and Ger 2010: 27). Maqsood describes how urban middle-class women in Pakistan were conscious of conflating piety and style, covering up without compromising on cutting-edge fashion (2014: 98). Similarly to the Turkish women in Sandikci and Ger’s (2010) study, the Pakistani women in Maqsood’s study were equally conscious of the negative connotations of veiling and did not want to appear backward or uneducated by adopting it (2014: 94 and 96). There seems to be a tendency for urban middle-class women to veil out of choice based on their knowledge and understanding of Islam. Being modern for these women is about economic success coupled with greater religiosity and their understanding of the Quran (Maqsood 2014: 96).

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Sandikci’s (2011: 246) study of Islamic marketing has addressed the exploitation of Islamic consumerism, and the emergence of a Muslim middle class means that they possess increased purchasing power. Recognition of this has led to an increased variety of products marketed as ‘Islamic’ and ‘halal’ aimed at Muslim consumers (2011: 250). Maqsood argues that Islamic consumption is also a global phenomenon, and in the US Islam has been presented as an ‘attractive alternative’ to American popular culture by Islamic organisations from the 1990s, who were afraid of losing the young generation of American Muslims to American culture. Examples of this include a demand for Islamic media programmes, Muslim lifestyle magazines and Islamic fashion among Muslims in the United States (Maqsood 2014: 88). Fashion was an obstacle for both Amber and Syrah, something they had to negotiate. They felt that their interest in fashion was an indulgent worldly pleasure that distracted them from their faith. Amber mentioned on several occasions that her aim was to do good work in this life, to become closer to God, and not to be distracted by worldly things, in order to secure a better place in the next life: we are not here forever and one day we are going to go, and it is our deeds that count and not how we looked on such-or-such-a-day. (May 2013)

Syrah and Amber also believed that fashion came under vanity, which is a sin according to the religious trajectory they were following. On the other hand, they did not want to detach themselves from wider society, and wanted to feel part of the modern world by investing in their appearance, which was critical for their self-esteem and identity such as their social class position, their image and the people they associated with. Paying attention to style and appearance was significant in their upbringing, encouraged by their own mothers, and something that was not easy to sacrifice. Their friendship enabled them to reconcile the conflicting interests of fashion and piety. They shared tips on how to look fashionable without compromising their religious beliefs. Syrah argued that dressing smartly and fashionably was a positive representation of Muslim women and Islam to wider society. She believed that Muslims were ambassadors for their faith and therefore in public their conduct was very important and was reflected in the way Muslims dressed. Because she veiled, the cut, tailoring and textures of fabrics and accessories were important in putting together an outfit. She wanted to prove to others that a Muslim

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woman could keep up with current fashion trends without having to wear flesh-baring or form-fitting clothes. To make their faith easier to follow, both Amber and Syrah made compromises and accommodations. For example, instead of choosing to wear an abaya, which they found too restrictive, they imposed certain rules upon themselves about what not to wear, as a reassurance that they were adhering to their religious dress code and faith. Furthermore, women-only social events were a great opportunity to forgo veiling and dress as they pleased, because religious restrictions regarding dress code did not apply in the absence of members of the opposite sex. The women made choices about how to dress and how to tailor their dress code that not only made them feel comfortable, but also earned them moral capital and recognition from their friends and people they associated with. Amber, Syrah and many other middle-class British-Pakistani women did not see a contradiction between being religious and being modern. For them, it was not a dichotomy between tradition and modernity or between Pakistani and British, but more about having the autonomy to be able to choose between the multiple possibilities open to them. An extensive quote from one of my conversations with Amber shows the kinds of negotiations and compromises she made to accommodate her new religious devotion, and how important it was to bring together elements of her life that seemed, at a first glance, incompatible: If I am going somewhere religious, I will wear a longer dress than if I was going to a party in a restaurant. At a party I would wear a shorter dress with boots, which to me is pushing the boundary. I dress differently going to the mosque. I was wearing the abaya all through Ramadan when I went to the mosque, and I felt comfortable in it, and maybe because everyone else was also wearing it in the mosque. I am not ready to wear it every day because my husband is totally against it. I couldn’t do something blatantly disregard[ing] for his feeling[s]. I will temper my outfit so it is compatible with the Muslim dress code. I want to incorporate style, fashion and elegance into what I wear. I don’t want to stop shopping at Topshop or Warehouse and all the places I used to shop, just because I am wearing the hijab. I do have a battle of conscience where I shouldn’t be wearing certain things like leggings with boots and a long top because it is showing the shape of my legs, I wouldn’t go to the mosque wearing this. I feel maybe I am not there where I need to be, where other women are that I look at. It is an internal struggle - should I wear this or shouldn’t I? My husband will tell me ‘wear it’ because he thinks there is nothing wrong in

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what I am wearing. I try to do what he says, but I don’t think what he says is always the right thing. He said I am not looking trendy anymore and I need to sharpen up my wardrobe a bit. You can be fashionable and wear the hijab but there are limits I have set for myself, but everyone’s limits are different. I can’t accept wearing tight skinny jeans and bottom on display with a hijab. But what I wear might not be acceptable to anyone else. It is about your comfort of how you feel wearing something that you feel is appropriate. (September 2013)

Amber’s comments gave me an insight into her everyday struggle with her conscience, and also her eagerness to accommodate her husband. Her husband did not want Amber to look dowdy, particularly when the people they associated with were always smartly dressed. She was in a perpetual state of flux, finding ways to reconcile her interests and her religious beliefs, not wanting to compromise her love of fashion or to completely disregard her husband’s opinion. The boundaries were very subjective because everyone had their own set of ideas and interpretation of how to dress appropriately. Amber knew that according to women who did not wear the hijab, the way she dressed was conservative. But among the more religious women at the mosque who wore an abaya, she did not fit their criteria of the Islamic dress code for women. Even though Amber’s friendship with Syrah was based on their love for fashion and similar experiences, their commitment to faith drew their friendship even closer. At times, they were in a quandary over conflicting interests and faith, and by talking through these issues they were both able to reach a resolution. They exchanged religious information they came across with the aim of increasing one another’s understanding of Islam.

Religious Classes at the Mosque Amber’s first step in her religious trajectory was to take religious classes. She sought advice from Zenab, a lady she employed to teach her children to read the Quran in Arabic. Zenab had taken many classes at Riverside Mosque and recommended that Amber should take tajwid classes at the same mosque.9 Amber was initially reluctant because she was unfamiliar with the mosque and had never attended a class before, and found the prospect of studying at the mosque daunting. She was apprehensive

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because she did not know whether she would fit in and be accepted by the others. After meeting Syrah at her children’s primary school, she was pleased to discover that Syrah had already been taking classes there for some months. Being accompanied by a friend gave her the confidence to enrol. The tajwid classes were taught by Reem, a British Muslim of Arab descent. Although Reem did not possess any formal training as a theologian, her knowledge of Islam, zeal and commitment to the mosque made her a popular teacher. Amber looked forward to attending Reem’s lessons, which helped her learn a lot about Islam. She respected and trusted Reem’s opinions and looked up to her for religious guidance. Despite Amber’s enthusiasm for Reem, looking up to her as a mentor, she was still in a state of flux. It was early days in her religious journey, and she was eager to fit in without having to conform completely but did not know how. Amber, like a lot of other women who were on a similar religious quest, was essentially in search of a religious identity that was not a threat to their existing identity; one which enhanced their life and sense of self. The women in my study were trying to reconcile things in their everyday lives which were paradoxical. It was more complicated for the second generation, who were striving to create a new identity—a BritishPakistani identity that their parents’ generation did not have to develop, because they were clearly Pakistani. Amber commented, I guess I gave myself into her a little bit. I was desperately in need of some guidance at that time. I started to wear a hijab and I needed to know where I fitted in. When I first put a hijab on, I did not know where I fitted in, I did not know if I was that ‘old’ Amber or a ‘new’ Amber. (January 2013)

As Amber got to know the other students and teachers at the mosque, her familiarity motivated her to visit the mosque more often. She increasingly felt more involved in the mosque and was becoming enmeshed in its community. Amber said that she was searching for a new identity because she had embarked on a religious trajectory and wanted to be associated with religious people who, like her, had a thirst for religious knowledge. Syrah and Amber passed the exam at the end of the tajwid course and credited one another for motivation and encouragement. Apart from Syrah, Amber was also friends with Natasha, Laila, Iman and Iza, who she met at her children’s primary school. Every month they

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met for lunch to catch up and discuss topics of interest such as their children’s schools and academic progress, family matters, holidays, and religion. Laila also volunteered at Riverside Mosque and taught a basic class in Islamic studies, as well as attending the same tajwid classes as Amber and Syrah. Amber mentioned that Natasha was very knowledgeable about Islam, and in her spare time read many hadiths as well as other books on Islam. For four months, I accompanied Syrah and Amber to Fairview Mosque for a weekly two-hour tafsir class that took place from 11 am to 1 pm.10 The class was taught by Hajira, a second-generation British-Pakistani woman. The room in the mosque was arranged like a typical classroom, with rows of desks facing the whiteboard and Hajira’s desk at the front. The class was full, with more than twenty women attending, most of whom seemed to be friends taking the classes together. It was an informal class and Hajira, who was in her early twenties, was very friendly and enthusiastic. She wore a long abaya and a tightly bound headscarf. Most women were in their thirties, forties and fifties. Syrah said most were housewives who wanted to learn more about Islam in their spare time, while their children were at school. Some of the women had brought along their infants who sat on their laps while they listened to Hajira’s lecture. The majority of the women were British-Pakistanis but there were also a few Arab, Malaysian and African women. Most of the women attending the mosque wore an abaya, apart from Amber and Syrah. Amber and Syrah were used to attending Riverside Mosque where the women were less conservative about the dress code. Women at Riverside Mosque liked to conflate piety and style, to dress up, accessorise their outfits with handbags and jewellery, and wear subtle makeup to give the allusion of a healthy glow. The tafsir class was reminiscent of being back at school: the students had saved seats for their friends. Before the start of the lesson the women chatted enthusiastically among friends and spoke to other women behind and in front of where they were seated. As Hajira walked in, the women took out their stationery, arranged it neatly in front of them, and sat up straight waiting to be greeted by Hajira. She stood at the front and greeted the class and introduced the topic she would cover in that lesson. The students were handed the first surah from the Quran, in English and Arabic.11 It was a translation by Farhat Hashmi, a Pakistani religious scholar who promoted a conservative religious ideology (Siraj 2011: 721). Typically, Hajira dedicated the whole lesson to the exegesis of the Quran.

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In each lesson she focussed on two verses at a time, referring to various hadiths for explanations as to the meaning and context behind the verses of the Quran, in which she went into great detail. Hajira was very passionate, and her enthusiasm was contagious among her students. They were mesmerised by her and grabbed on to her every word. Hajira’s approach to teaching was successful because she was friendly and engaging with her students and encouraged an interactive style of learning in which she generated discussion, group work, and questions and answers from her students. In a typical class Hajira used everyday examples and scenarios to illustrate her point, and to show how the verses of the Quran were applicable in daily life. For example, in one of the lessons, she highlighted unwitting sins such as buying a soft drink from an off licence, or eating at a restaurant that was also a bar, because this indirectly supported establishments which sold alcohol, and the consumption of alcohol was forbidden in Islam. Yet neither Amber, Syrah nor their other friends who visited the mosque avoided restaurants or shops where alcohol was sold, as they did not feel this would be a practical step to take in their daily life. The fact that they abstained from alcohol and did not frequent pubs and bars was in keeping with their faith. Another of the topics of discussion on one occasion I attended Hajira’s class was the body and soul in relation to death, and how the soul leaves the body in death. Addressing this topic, there was tenseness in her voice, adding drama by evoking fear in her students as she described the topic in great detail. The women listened attentively and took notes. Hajira explained that belief in God was insufficient, because the devil also believed in God, which is why actions and deeds were paramount. Hajira relied on sources from the hadiths to conduct her lessons. In one of her lessons she explained passages she had taken from the hadith, for example upon death good souls smell sweet and the angels look forward to taking them, whereas bad souls smell repulsive. She discussed the consequences of sin and went into great detail about the journey of sinners from death to hellfire. She stated that it was critical to give up worldly gains to enter paradise: it was a choice either to embrace this life or give it up to gain later in the afterlife, and to earn a place in paradise humans had to resist temptations which came from the devil. Hajira explained that ‘zikr’ (worship and remembrance of God) was food for the soul. She emphasised that it was sinful to question or contest Islamic scriptures, backing her argument with a hadith that recalled Prophet Mohammad warning

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others not to question God or the prophets. She went on to say that God’s commands had wisdom and it was forbidden for humans to challenge this wisdom, as we do not have the capacity to understand it. Hajira stated If Allah tells us to do something, we should do it regardless of it because it is best for us and Allah’s decision is based on wisdom.12 We must not use logic to reason with Allah’s word because we don’t have enough knowledge to understand. We have limited knowledge in comparison to Allah and therefore we must accept Allah’s word. (March 2013)

This absolutist approach was effective because it dispelled any doubts or conflicting views the students had about what they read in the scriptures. It alluded to the belief that contesting blind faith was the work of the devil. Hands were going up throughout the lesson, and the women asked Hajira questions not only about the topic they were discussing, but about certain aspects of their daily lives. Akin to the teachers at the mosque in Mahmood’s (2011) study, Hajira expected her students to already know and practice the basic performance of religious duties such as the five daily prayers and fasting. The aim of religious classes in Mahmood’s (2011) study, and also in my study, was to teach students to embody religious principles in all aspects of their daily lives, reinforcing acts of worship and religious guidance to resolve day-to-day issues. Beekers (2014: 73) uses the term ‘observant’ to define Muslims and Christians who not only practice their faith, but also incorporate their faith into their everyday lives and therefore use faith as moral guidance. I argue that the term ‘observant’ can be somewhat misleading, as it is commonly used for people who practice their faith just as the women who already attend the mosque do. I prefer to use the term ‘extensive religiosity’ because it is not confined to worship, rituals and deeds, but extends itself to other realms of their lives. For instance, the choices and decisions people make are governed by their faith, as opposed to religion working around their lives. Interestingly, from what was being taught in many mosques, according to the ‘more religious’ women, adhering to the basic performance of religious duties is not sufficient. However, Deeb (2015) coins the term ‘everyday Islam’ to describe managing everyday life in accordance to their interpretation and understanding of Islam (Mendoza Carmona 2018: 46). Despite Hajira’s style of teaching being far from draconian, the content of what she was teaching was very conservative. It was in fact a friendly

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delivery of an orthodox message. Much of what she was saying was dogmatic, but her gentle and friendly manner made it palatable. In some ways it was reminiscent of the teaching that Mahmood describes as ‘the carrot and stick’: the ‘carrot’ being the rewards and merits gained for religious observation, and the ‘stick’ being warning of punishment for those who transgress (Mahmood 2011: 10). Thus, the promise of rewards and the fear of hellfire were effective in achieving religious observance and discipline. Hajira’s style of teaching evoked deep emotions such as excitement and fear in her students, which captivated their attention and kept them motivated. Amber and Syrah looked forward to the classes every week and came out feeling inspired and motivated to better practice their faith. I argue that giving up a few worldly pleasures became a small sacrifice in the scheme of things, when there is much to gain in the hereafter. There was a break during each lesson for afternoon prayers. During prayers, the women stood in a row and prayed together. Meanwhile Hajira occupied the young children, waiting for her turn to pray after the women had finished. Every week the women brought home-baked goods to share with the class during break time. This sharing of food was a way of establishing friendships and a sense of community within the mosque. The mosque served as an alternative community where the worshippers felt valued for their Islamic attire of being covered head to toe, and for their zeal for religious knowledge and practice. The mosque was a space where women could express their piety without the threat of their values being undermined or condemned by non-Muslims. The worshippers were aware that Islamophobia was rife, and most of the worshippers I spoke to had been the recipients of hostility or negative comments from nonMuslims. Sharing similar experiences, values, concerns and interests gave the women a sense of belonging, acceptance and esteem.13 MohammadArif notes that religion serves a cathartic role for those facing hostility or marginalisation in society.14 Therefore, a mosque for Muslim migrants transcends a place of worship and is equally important as a place for socialisation and community formation in the same way as synagogues and churches were for other earlier migrants (2007: 3).

The Phenomenon of Farhat Hashmi Clarke (2018: 20), in her ethnographic study of British-Pakistani women, notes that in recent years Islamic revivalism has burgeoned, and for many

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young Muslims belonging is expressed through faith, overriding other forms of identity such as ethnic identity, westernisation, secularism and cultural heritage. The proliferation of religiosity among mostly Pakistani women in both Britain and Pakistan seemed to be highly influenced by the work of Farhat Hashmi, a Pakistani Islamic scholar. Both Riverside Mosque and Fairview Mosque adhered to a similar religious doctrine. The women told me that this branch of Sunni Islam monopolised most of the Sunni mosques in Britain and comes from the interpretation of the Quran translated by Farhat Hashmi. Hashmi promotes Islam as free of cultural influences, and a discourse which condemns everyday pastimes such as watching films, listening to music, or celebrating local cultural festivals on the basis that such activities are ‘un-Islamic’ (Ahmad 2008: 70 and 72), and very quickly her teachings gained popularity throughout Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 67). The religious discourse promoted by Hashmi is a rather literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures and goes beyond ritual worship and religious expectations. In this viewpoint, Islam is no longer practiced solely in private, but shapes every aspect of people’s everyday life, dictating how and who Muslims socialise with, what they wear, how they conduct themselves, and they spend their leisure time. Both Amber and Syrah were interested in her teachings, which they had come across at Riverside Mosque and Fairview Mosque. In addition to teaching at Fairview Mosque, Hajira was a student of Al-Huda International, a religious school established by Hashmi, which ran courses and produced religious literature and learning tools (Babar 2008: 348). Hajira encouraged her class to read Hashmi’s literature and to enrol on one of her courses taught at many mosques, including Fairview Mosque. Hashmi came from a religious background: her father was a prominent religious scholar in Pakistan. She was born and raised in Pakistan and met her husband at university in Pakistan while they were both studying theology (Mushtaq 2010: 3). Before becoming an internationally renowned Islamic scholar, Farhat Hashmi had been a lecturer at the International Islamic University in Islamabad during the 1990s. She earned a doctorate in Hadith Sciences from the University of Glasgow. In 1994 she established Al-Huda, an Islamic school for women in Islamabad (Ahmad 2008: 64; Maqsood 2017: 93). Al-Huda introduced a one-year diploma course at first and, by 2003/2004, it was offering a two-year diploma course geared towards housewives in Pakistan so they could study three hours a day from home while their children were at

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school. These courses taught the hadith, tajwid (Quranic recitation), fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence), the biography of Prophet Mohammad, tafsir, and Islamic history (Ahmad 2008: 64). Al-Huda’s mission was to capture the attention of professional and urban middle-class Pakistanis, and to steer them to follow Hashmi’s trajectory (Babar 2008: 348). By 2008, AlHuda had established its Islamic schools for women in 28 cities across Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 67). More recently, Hashmi has gained popularity among the Pakistani diaspora worldwide through the availability of AlHuda lectures on DVD and CD in Islamic book shops and Islamic centres (Shaikh 2013: 70). These same courses were introduced in many mosques in the UK in both Urdu and English, aimed at British Muslims more widely, rather than Pakistanis specifically. According to Amber, Hashmi’s Al-Huda courses have had a huge impact on the British-Pakistani community in Manchester, and its popularity has led many British-Pakistanis to become devout Muslims. Farhat Hashmi was due to host a three-day religious event in Manchester. This was creating a lot of excitement among the women. Amber and Syrah were eagerly anticipating her visit and Laila, Farah and Malia were also planning to attend her lecture along with many of their friends from Riverside Mosque. Amber’s mother and some of her mother’s friends were also planning to go, as they were taking the AlHuda course in Urdu through the mosque. After gaining international recognition among first-generation Pakistani migrants, Hashmi’s work has been translated into English to target the second generation. It was to be a women-only event as Hashmi supported gender segregation in public meetings and only addressed female audiences (Mushtaq 2010: 4). The lectures were hosted at the British Muslim Heritage Centre. This was an impressive Grade II-listed building set in extensive grounds in the South Manchester neighbourhood of Whalley Range.15 Amber, Syrah and I decided to attend the lecture on the first day, and I picked them both up on the morning of the lecture. On our way, Syrah spoke about her faith. Devotion was critical to her, which made it easier to adhere to her faith. She explained: If you love Allah, you would want to strive for him, and the more devout you are to Allah, the more you want to follow your faith with precision. (October 2013)

She illustrated her statement with an analogy of friendship and hospitality:

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The more you liked a friend the more effort you would make to cook them a nice meal. Therefore, we have to put effort in our religion to show our love and devotion to Allah. (October 2013)

Syrah was passionate about dawah (proselytising), stating that it was the duty of Muslims to spread the word of Islam to non-Muslims. She explained that she practiced dawah in a subtle way with non-Muslims, by initiating a conversation that would lead to religion, sparking an interest and curiosity in Islam: For example, it may be something very trivial, but at least it opens up an opportunity to discuss Islam with the vision of imparting knowledge to the other person. (October 2013)

Dawah was central to Farhat Hashmi’s cause, and women were able to perform this duty through social gatherings.16 Although dawah is usually directed at non-Muslims, it is also encouraged by piety movements such as mosques to urge Muslims to spread Islamic knowledge among their own religious community. Dawah through social events was becoming very popular and widespread among many of the women with whom I did research. Amber, Syrah and her friend led very busy lives and felt guilty engaging in idle activities in their free time, because that time could be dedicated to worship or increasing their religious knowledge. To overcome this issue, many women within their social circle hosted lunches followed by a religious talk. This way, the women felt they put their time to good use through worship and consolidating their faith, with the added bonus of getting together and socialising with friends. The room in which Farhat Hashmi’s lecture was to be held was a large hall and was fully packed with over 300 women. There were rows of chairs set up in the hall for the guests to be seated. The overspill led to the two adjoining rooms being opened, which also became packed very quickly. In the two adjoining rooms, there were rugs laid out on the floor to sit on and a few chairs for women who found it too difficult to sit on the floor. There was a large TV screen attached to the wall in both adjoining rooms so Hashmi’s lecture could be watched by the women who were unable to find a seat in the lecture hall. All the women had their heads covered and many wore abayas. The older women wore shalwar kameez (traditional Pakistani dress) and some women opted to wear a long tunic

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or cardigan over jeans. Those who could not fit into any of the rooms had to stand and listen from the corridor. For the first hour, we listened to pre-recorded lectures by Hashmi, as she had not yet arrived. I found it very difficult to understand as the recordings were in Urdu. After an hour, a speaker introduced Hashmi on stage and the audience gasped in awe as they watched her long-anticipated arrival on the large screen. She greeted the audience and then recited a few Quranic prayers and translated them into Urdu sentence by sentence. She spoke about the devotion and love for God, stating We should worship Allah to save ourselves from the enemy – the devil who tries to seduce us. The more knowledgeable we are on faith the greater the devil tries to weaken our faith. (October 2013)

I heard women mumbling to one another in agreement and nodding their heads as they held on to her every word. After her speech on worship and devotion to God, she dedicated the next ten minutes to communal prayer. The audience cupped their hands in prayer. She prayed in Urdu for guidance, for good health and for the infirm, then prayed for those without faith, that Allah guides them, and they eventually become closer to Allah, and begged for mercy, forgiveness and blessings. She cried as she begged for redemption. I looked around and saw tears rolling down the faces of the women around me. I whispered to Amber, asking her why everyone was crying. Amber explained that it was because praying with conviction and with humility evoked strong emotions, because of the realisation that we were mere mortals, not invincible, and most importantly because of Allah’s mercy. She said that by showing humility, we earned Allah’s mercy and love, and the realisation of Allah’s greatness brought tears to people’s eyes. Amber noted that the recently established mosques in the suburbs were presenting a friendly and approachable image to their worshippers and the surrounding neighbourhoods.17 She explained that these suburban mosques were the antithesis of traditional mosques in urban enclaves, which had a reputation for being draconian, and run by maulvis of South Asian heritage, taking control and promoting a cultural interpretation of Islam.18 The newer mosques were inclusive of different cultural backgrounds and the sermons were in English to cater to the ethnic diversity of their congregations. According to Amber, the more recently established mosques in the suburbs were run by educated middle-class people.

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Both Fairview and Riverside Mosque endorsed Farhat Hashmi’s literature. Hashmi’s credentials, qualifications and teaching style resonated among the professional classes. Hashmi’s symbolic capital added to her influence and credibility (Mushtaq 2010: 6). Her intellect and her ability to be analytical and rational, and to use science and logic in her arguments, added weight to her narrative, making her an influential figure, particularly among her audience who were educated. In addition to this, her language skills were impressive, as she had the ability to switch seamlessly between Urdu, English and Arabic (Mushtaq 2010: 11). It was Hashmi’s credentials, her qualifications, reasoning and manner that gave her an edge over the maulvis, gaining her popularity among the elite and professional classes. Farhat Hashmi was a charismatic, articulate and influential speaker because of her ability to connect with her audience (Mushtaq 2010: 4). Babar, in her study of the popularity of Al-Huda in Pakistan, argues that Hashmi drew on the personal experiences of her audience and raised topics of interest to her audience, and this earned her a strong following. This radical approach gained her popularity as it is something the maulvis could not and did not do (2008: 356). Her message resonated with her followers because it was as if she was speaking directly to them. One woman stated that ‘she spoke at your own intellectual level…somebody you could relate to’ (cited in Mushtaq 2010: 4). Khan (2004) notes that Hashmi’s popularity also rests on the fact that her rhetoric is so different from that of the maulvis who dwell on the hellfire, whereas Hashmi reiterates the importance of God’s mercy and forgiveness (Mushtaq 2010: 4). The presentation of Hashmi as an alternative to the maulvis has earned her popularity in Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 63). Yet in Pakistan the maulvis view Hashmi with disdain as they see her as a threat to their patriarchal values, encroaching on their territory. They argue that women are being misled by her rhetoric and, as a consequence, are becoming assertive and challenging patriarchal customs, which has created marital problems for some women whose husbands do not want to upset the status quo of patriarchy in Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 82). For the students and graduates of Al-Huda, sharing their knowledge and promoting the course to others was part of their learning. Students of Al-Huda were encouraged to share their knowledge among friends and family and to host weekly religious gatherings (Ahmad 2008: 65). The aim of Al-Huda was to educate women to enable them to pass on this religious knowledge (dawah) and enlighten their children, household and

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communities such as neighbourhoods and workplaces, or even others on a one-to-one basis. According to Farhat Hashmi, women are the bedrock of the family and the community, and knowledge can be mobilised through women in this way (Shaikh 2013: 69 and 73). Women acquire agency through religious knowledge and the transmission of religious knowledge to others (Shaikh 2013: 71).

Islamic Revivalism and Islamic Feminism Kibria (2008: 244) uses the term ‘revivalist Islam’ to describe the growing global popularity of Islamic discourses which rely on a literal interpretation of scriptures and the inherence of Islamic practice and thought to every aspect of life.19 Kashyap and Lewis (2013: 2118) also point out that this revival of Islam is characterised as being devoid of cultural influences and promoting a global Muslim community.20 Mirza et al. (2007) argue that Islamic revivalism is also a backlash against the cultural traditions of parents and focusses greatly on public image, such as the wearing of a headscarf to assert a Muslim identity (cited in Kashyap and Lewis 2013: 2118). For instance, espousing a pure Islam, void of culture and non-Islamic practices, legitimises women’s confrontation of patriarchal customs and overcoming certain expectations.21 Clearly, none of the women I spoke to had come across ‘pure Islam’: it existed in theory within the literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures. In practice, ‘pure Islam’ did not exist as it was impossible to sieve out all the ‘un-Islamic practices’ which were enmeshed in everyday life. I argue that ‘pure Islam’ was a utopian vision—something in the distance to aspire to, but not necessarily attainable. Liebelt and Werbner’s (2018: 3) study of Salafi revivalist movements notes that many scholars point out that this Islamic revivalist movement is unsustainable because ethical perfect is an impossible and unrealistic goal. Fadil and Fernando (2015) argue that Islamic revivalism creates a dichotomy between ‘secular modernity’ and ‘radical ethical perfection’ (cited in Mendoza Carmona 2018: 46). This discourse overlooks the complexity of piety by failing to take into consideration the salience of other factors influencing everyday life, such as education and politics (Mendoza Carmona 2018: 46). Thus, it is understandable that for its followers, Islamic revivalist narratives need to be contextualised and understood within their secular and modern surroundings (Liebelt and Werbner 2018: 4).

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For instance, Amber and Syrah recognised that some of what Hashmi was preaching was unrealistic and would appear draconian to their children. They did not want to force this upon their children and were not in favour of taking drastic measures such as banning television, not celebrating birthdays, not visiting restaurants where alcohol was served, or banning music altogether. Meanwhile the women followed some of Hashmi’s rhetoric to feel that they were making some sacrifices. More specifically, they did not blindly follow what was being taught in the classes they attended, but instead they selected religious values that fitted into their lifestyle, while sacrificing pleasures that they could live without. Therefore, they were espousing a more accommodating religious trajectory and rhetoric that appealed to them. This strategy enabled both Syrah and Amber to make sense of the conflict of interests and the paradoxes they were faced with. They justified their interests that clashed with their religious interpretation by stating that their journey was a ‘work in progress’: that they were working towards achieving a particular religious goal, such as to eventually give up listening to music or to accomplish reading and understanding certain hadiths. More importantly, these religious goals were not absolute, but something that they were intending on working towards, and would perhaps achieve sometime in the distant future. Clarke (2018: 18) highlights the significance of ‘intention’. Maqsood (2017: 95) also expresses the importance of commitment and desire among followers, rather than a complete change of lifestyle. Although this revivalist movement endorsed by many mosques is unrealistic to attain, scholars have also pointed out this interpretation of Islam appeals so strongly to and is drawing in more and more Muslim women day by day. Most researchers argue that Islam offers middle-class urban Muslim women a way out of the traditional patriarchal culture of their parents’ generation, enabling them to live a more autonomous life. Brown (2006: 420–421), for instance, explains that the emancipation, autonomy and the rights for women suggested by the revivalist Islam have drawn women to this religious discourse. Silvestri (2011: 1233) argues that in Europe the image of Muslim women is one which is void of agency, constrained by patriarchal customs and victims of an ‘oppressive and backward’ religion.22 Muslim women possess agency, and among Muslim women in Europe, personal empowerment and liberating themselves from patriarchal customs comes from studying the Quran (Silvestri 2011: 1233; Joly and Wadia 2017: 42). In this way, women had rights in the Quran and the hadiths long before women’s rights were acknowledged in the UK

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(Silvestri 2011: 1231; Rinaldo 2014: 840). More importantly, freedom requires one’s ‘own will’ to be able to break away from the constraints and expectations imposed by culture, tradition and society (Mahmood 2011: 11). Furthermore, women in Brown’s (2006: 420–421) study were eager to separate culture from religion. The religious narrative that they were adhering to granted many rights to women which their cultural background did not acknowledge, and the women claimed that their parent’s culture endorsed values that went against Islamic principles such as, for example, women’s rights in Islam which were overlooked for cultural reasons. They also defined cultural Islam as cultural values in the guise of Islamic values, arguing that Islam offers women freedom and autonomy that is denied to them through their cultural background. Bhimji (2009: 370) has also highlighted that British-Pakistani women appropriate Islam to support an independent lifestyle. One woman in her study commented that ‘in Islam it is perfectly acceptable for divorced women to live independently and to study further’ (cited in Bhimji 2009: 370). Bolognani (2009: 162), argues that the appeal of Islam for women lies in the fact that Islam offers a freedom of choice and autonomy which is often negated through the cultural interpretation and cultural values of their parents. Amber and Syrah explained that one of the reasons they were drawn to Farhat Hashmi was that she contested patriarchal customs, and this also garnered interest among her listeners. They told me that her religious narrative was motivational and amassed a myriad of followers. Amber explained that her lectures underpinned that a woman’s duty was to her parents and not to her in-laws. Duty to in-laws, Hashmi argues, was a cultural obligation with no religious foundation. This resonated with many of her followers who had cultural obligations to their inlaws but were armed with religious knowledge to educate their in-laws and husbands, who could not challenge divine orders. It justified their position as independent modern women who should not be spending so much time morally compelled to take care of in-laws. This emancipation resonated in Amber’s statement: I feel now I have discovered the true meaning of Islam. It’s liberated me from the feelings of guilt that I had in the beginning. I am living my life free of guilt because before was having to live up to my husband’s expectation of taking care of his parents. Now I believe if I do it is something good and I will get rewarded for it, if I don’t won’t lose anything, I am not a bad person. My husband has started to come around to that idea

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as well that it’s not actually my job as the daughter-in-law, which is what culture has always dictated. He must have checked up on the facts himself after we discussed them. (November 2013)

Amber highlighted that women who were entering marriage now did not face the same challenges as previous generations: Things are changing now because people are more aware of Islam and their duties. At Al-Huda a lot of them are mothers-in-law that are learning things they didn’t know when they first got their children married, and they are realising now that they are not meant to have that control over the daughter-in-law that they thought they had. And there is a new generation of girls who are discovering Islam and they realise they don’t have to live with in-laws and don’t have to look after them. That’s now widespread. (November 2013)

She went on to say, If I do it it’s a reward for me, but it won’t be something I will be questioned about. Now I know my duties towards my own parents and to look after them and if they ask me to do something, I have to do it. But if my mother- and father-in-law ask us as a couple to do something I am not obliged to do it, whereas my husband is. They are not my parents, I am not responsible to look after them, that’s their son’s job. (November 2013)

From what I have been told by the women, the first generation of BritishPakistanis were taught that women belonged in their husband’s family once they got married. They were socialised with this idea from a young age as many grew up seeing their own mothers as dutiful daughters-inlaw, taking care of their husband’s family. It seemed to me that among the previous generation of Pakistani women, patriarchal expectations were hard-wired into them, and it was only very recently, through religious rhetoric, that women were able to contest these values. Mohammad’s research on marriage practices among British-Pakistani Muslim women shows that, according to South Asian tradition, a bride’s happiness and wellbeing rests on her ability to conform to the norms and practices of her husband and his family (2015: 8). Within South Asian tradition, girls from a young age are discouraged from forming attachment to their natal home, because their belonging and destiny is

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with their in-laws. British-Pakistani women are empowering themselves through religious rhetoric to contest these patriarchal practices. While many of the women I observed had fulfilled certain patriarchal duties imposed on them by their parents’ culture, such as fulfilling certain obligations to their in-laws, these expectations were not passed down to their younger siblings or the next generation. As discussed in Chapter 5, British-Pakistani women have witnessed many changes in certain cultural expectations. Farhat Hashmi’s narrative appealed to women because not only did it grant freedom from patriarchal customs, but her narrative also helped her followers to clarify moral expectations and deal with everyday dilemmas such as the struggle of balancing a career and raising children. Instead of having to make difficult decisions, the women felt that the right decision was already made for them by Hashmi. Hashmi’s rhetoric offered women moral reprieve from their concerns. Western feminism and Islamic feminism are two very district and different ideologies: while western feminism focusses on gender equality, Islamic feminism adheres to specific gender roles and expectations. Islamic feminism focusses on women’s rights and autonomy through contesting patriarchal norms and places value and status on certain gender roles such as mothers as the primary caregivers. For example, Amber, like many of the women I spoke to, felt the pressure of working and raising a family. They socialised among people who valued independent working women and they also subconsciously measured other women on their credentials such as their work experience, status or profession. Amber explained that Hashmi’s teachings did not support women pursuing a career and working outside the home. While Hashmi did challenge some aspects of patriarchy, such as discouraging women from living with in-laws or having a duty or obligation to care for in-laws, she asserted that the home was the domain of women and their religious obligation was to nurture their children and to give them religious guidance. Amber mentioned that women were encouraged to seek domestic help to free up time to increase their religious knowledge. It was also the religious duty of women to care for their own parents. Islamic feminism also offers women redemption from cultural or religious transgression through the adoption of visual piety. Bolognani (2009: 162) proposes that stigma is more difficult to overcome via cultural community, whereas an Islamic trajectory offers redemption and a fresh start, and more importantly an opportunity to gain respect and

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honour through piety. On the face of it, it may appear contradictory that women are voluntarily embracing a dogmatic interpretation of Islam which imposes sanctions on women such as observing a strict dress code. But to its followers, a stricter dress code was not seen as sanction but as a liberation from the commodification of women (Mirza 2009: 280). On our drive back home, Amber and Syrah reflected on the event. They had not expected such a high turnout. Syrah said that the event was very informative, that Farhat Hashmi’s message resonated with her because she was eloquent in encapsulating the essence of Islam and what it meant to be a Muslim. She recalled: The conditions of being a Muslim are Imaam (faith), Iqlas, your conduct and deeds are for the love of Allah and any good that you do, on the day of judgment, when you stand in front of Allah, every moment of your life on earth is played in front of you like a film and if you done a good deed and if it was to show off it would be rejected… Iqlas. Allah purifies you, so for Allah to purify a believer he will put them through a test – it could be a test of their faith, an illness, losing a loved one or money and if you still stay strong and keep your faith and believe what you have endured is from Allah, and that is your form of purification. If you do not deal with the misfortunes with patience and cry ‘why this has happened to me?’ it shows your faith is faltered and you are not purified. The third component of faith was Sunnah and if you don’t do things according to the Sunnah your faith is in vain. (October 2013)

Syrah was emphasising that Imaam, Iqlas and Sunnah were three conditions of faith. The form of Islam promoted by Farhat Hashmi struck a chord with Syrah. Much of what was said in the lecture resonated with her own life and experiences, helping her to make sense of her life and her surroundings. An important aspect of Al-Huda’s training is to become less materialistic, to increase consciousness of God, and to strive for patience by becoming less despairing when troubled, because misfortune is a test of resilience that measures people’s devotion to God and their faith in divine intervention (Ahmad 2008: 70), and it was this that was appealing to countless Muslim women. Faith offered hope if not in this life, then definitely in the hereafter. It also provided comfort in times of misfortune and grief. Within this religious trajectory, adversity could be viewed as a blessing—an opportunity to be absolved from sin through perseverance and endurance of faith.

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Conclusion Friendships based on faith were critical to many of the women I met in the field, as such friendships established a sense of belonging and religious camaraderie. Women depended on these friendships for religious guidance and support, and to overcome religious dilemmas such as how to dress, how to interpret certain texts, to find out which scholars were reliable, and to deal with their own conflicts with certain religious viewpoints. Mosques and religious gatherings were not only places of worship, but also places to make new friends, celebrate their religious identity, and amass capital and recognition for their religious knowledge and participation. Socialising with other Muslims created a ‘feel good factor’ about being Muslim, particularly as these women lived in a climate of Islamophobia, within a society which did not place importance on faith. Among middle-class British-Pakistani women, practicing Islam was about critical thinking, enabling them to conflate both their spiritual and worldly needs. The absolutist approach promoted by Farhat Hashmi appealed to the women because it offered solutions to many of their concerns and dilemmas. Hashmi also resonated with the women because like them, she was educated, middle-class, and used logic and reason. She also addressed topics that were pertinent in their lives such as gender inequality and patriarchal customs. Furthermore, visual piety was not only a representation of commitment to faith but also their middle-class status. In the way that they dressed, the women wanted to present an image of Muslim women as being socially mobile, assertive, modern and stylish. At the same time, it was unrealistic for the women to follow every word and example written in the religious scriptures. To get around this issue, the women adhered to aspects that were easy to incorporate into their lives, and ‘sacrificed’ a few pleasures as a token of their devotion and adherence to their faith, giving them a ‘feel good factor’. There were some aspects of their faith which conflicted with their existing interests such as their taste for fashion, career, status, popular culture, lifestyle and identities. They had overcome this problem by making the intention to become more observant after gaining more knowledge, knowing that it would take many years to acquire such in-depth religious knowledge. This intention, in itself, had value for them. Therefore, the women neither adhered to patriarchal values in the same way as previous generations, nor did they try to follow a version of ‘pure Islam’ void of any external influences. Unlike their parents’ generation,

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education and socio-economic mobility opened up choices and gave them experiences that enabled them to think critically about the kind of religiosity they would follow. Consequently, they selected aspects of their faith that appealed to them, and that amassed them both cultural and moral capital related to being a good Muslim. Religion did not mean an absolute and fixed idea they had to comply with blindly: it meant a way of making sense of their lives and a journey of discovery, a way of earning recognition, and a pursuit for contentment where they could be comfortable in their multiple identities.

Notes 1. ‘Religious outlook’ is a term I use to describe the experience of my participants as they increase their religious knowledge and become more devout in their faith. 2. Hadiths are the sayings and decisions made by Prophet Mohammad, which were orally transmitted by his companions, and eventually documented (Afshar 2008: 422; Rinaldo 2014: 843). 3. The five pillars of Islam are: the belief in the oneness of God and Mohammad being the last prophet; giving charity; fasting in the month of Ramadan; performing haj (pilgrimage to Mecca); and the daily performance of five obligatory prayers. Islam 101. Five Pillars of Islam (n.d.). By ‘culture’, Amber and others in my study were referring to the cultural conventions and patriarchal customs that were so important to the first generation of Pakistanis in Britain. 4. Ijaz and Abbas’ (2010) study of intergenerational changes among working-class British-Pakistanis. 5. According to Rollier’s (2010: 420) study of texting religious messages among urban youth in Pakistan, Islamic texting encourages a new sense of piety as a way of garnering moral virtue and recognition. 6. In a study of British Muslim identity, Brown (2006: 419) defines the umma as a community of Muslims embracing a universal Islamic identity, created to unite Muslims across national borders, and made possible through the process of globalisation. 7. Ryan (2011: 1047), in her study of the stigmatisation of British Muslim women after 9/11, also recognises that clothing can act as a powerful marker of difference. Fortier (1999) notes that clothing is a means through which religion and gendered values are conveyed and acknowledged by others (Ryan 2011: 1047), which was what Syrah and Amber were aiming to achieve. 8. Sandikci and Ger (2010), in their study of the relationship between the market and religion in Turkey.

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14. 15.

16.

17.

18. 19. 20.

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Tajwid refers to Quranic recitation (Ahmad 2008: 64). Tafsir refers to Quranic exegesis (Beekers 2014: 83). Surah refers to a chapter from the Quran. Teachers at the mosque prefer to use ‘Allah’, the Arabic translation for God, which is in the Quran. The importance of belonging, wellbeing and identity for Muslims living in a secular society has also been addressed by other researchers (Beekers 2014: 72; Mohammad-Arif 2007: 3). Mohammad-Arif’s (2007) study of identity and community formation among South Asians. The building was originally the Lancashire Independent College, a theological college built in 1843 to train ministers for the Congregational church (British Muslim Heritage Centre BMHC, n.d.). The salience of dawah among Muslims has been discussed by many scholars. Mahmood (2011: 65) explains that the spread of religious knowledge is called dawah, and its aim is to invite, call, or summon people to the teachings of Islam, and that dawah is pivotal in Islamic revival discourses, making it incumbent upon women to preach. Michael (2011: 220), in her study of young British Muslims, argues that dawah is inherent to the discourse of Islamic revivalism which requires every Muslim to be committed to spreading Islam. Mahmood (2011: 65) notes the importance of preaching with passion and sincerity from the Quran and Sunnah only for the purpose of pleasing God and not for one’s selfpromotion. The Sunnah refers to the practices of Prophet Mohammad and his companions (Mahmood 2011: 46). Riverside Mosque is a popular mosque for worship among the women in my study because it engages with the local community and also with its congregation to make the mosque the hub of the community, a place of socialisation as well as worship. Both Fairview and Riverside Mosque were examples of recently established mosques in the suburbs. A maulvi is generally a lower-class male religious cleric (Shaikh 2013: 63). Kibria’s (2008) study of British-Bangladeshi Muslims. Kashyap and Lewis’ (2013) study of British Muslim youth. The women in my study use the term ‘cultural influences’ to refer to patriarchal cultural influences and cultural obligations such as taking care of in-laws. ‘Non-Islamic practices’ refer to the celebration of local and cultural festivals. Silvestri’s (2011) study of Muslim women in Europe.

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Joly, D., & Wadia, K. (2017). Muslim women and power: Political and civic engagement in West European societies. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Kashyap, R., & Lewis, V. A. (2013). British Muslim youth and religious fundamentalism: A quantitative investigation. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 36(12), 2117–2140. Khan, S. (2004, September, 7). A Muslim message more irresistible than hate. The Globe and Mail. Kibria, N. (2008). The ‘new Islam’ and Bangladeshi youth in Britain and the US. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 31(2), 243–266. Liebelt, C., & Werbner, P. (2018). Gendering ‘everyday Islam’: An introduction. Contemporary Levant, 3(1), 2–9. Mahmood, S. (2011). Politics of piety: The Islamic revival and the feminist subject. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Maqsood, A. (2014). Buying modern. Cultural Studies, 28(1), 84–107. Maqsood, A. (2017). The new Pakistani middle-class. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Mendoza Carmona, B. E. (2018). Transforming ‘everyday Islam’ through feminism and higher education: Second-generation Muslim women in Spain. Contemporary Levant, 3(1), 44–55. Michael, L. (2011). Islam as Rebellion and conformity: How young British Pakistani Muslims in the UK negotiate space for and against radical ideologies. Religion, State and Society, 39(2–3), 209–227. Mirza, M. (2009). Multiculturalism, religion and identity. In V. S. Karla (Ed.), Pakistani diasporas: Culture, conflict, and change (pp. 273–284). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mirza, M., Senthilkumaran, A., & Ja’far, Z. (2007). Living apart together: British Muslims and the paradox of multiculturalism. London: Policy Exchange. Mohammad, R. (2015). Transnational shift: Marriage, home and belonging for British-Pakistani Muslim women. Social and Cultural Geography, 16(6), 593– 614. Mohammad-Arif, A. (2007). The paradox of religion: The (re)construction of Hindu and Muslim identities amongst South Asian diasporas in the United States. South Asia Multi-Disciplinary Academic Journal, 1, 1–19. Mushtaq, F. (2010). A controversial role model for Pakistani women. South Asia Multi-Disciplinary Academic Journal, 4, 1–15. Rinaldo, R. (2014). Pious and critical: Muslim women activists and the question of agency. Gender and Society, 28(6), 824–846. Rollier, P. (2010). Texting Islam: Text messages and religiosity among young Pakistanis. Contemporary South Asia, 18(4), 413–426. Ryan, L. (2011). Muslim women negotiating collective stigmatization: ‘We’re just normal people’. Sociology, 45(6), 1045–1060.

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Sandıkcı, Ö. (2011). Researching Islamic marketing: Past and future perspectives. Journal of Islamic Marketing, 2(3), 246–258. Sandikci, Ö., & Ger, G. (2010). Veiling in style: How does a stigmatized practice become fashionable? Journal of Consumer Research, 37 (1), 15–36. Shaikh, K. (2013). Gender, religious agency, and the subject of Al-Huda International. Meridians: Feminism, Race, Transnationalism, 11(2), 62–86. Silvestri, S. (2011). Faith intersections and Muslim women in the European microcosm: Notes towards the study of non-organized Islam. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 34(7), 1230–1247. Siraj, A. (2011). Meanings of modesty and the hijab amongst Muslim women in Glasgow, Scotland. Gender, Place & Culture: a Journal of Feminist Geography, 18(6), 716–731. Tarlo, E. (2010). Visibly Muslim: Fashion, politics, faith. Oxford: Berg.

CHAPTER 8

Conclusion

This book has explored the rather complex and interesting lives of middleclass British-Pakistani women in Manchester. Each chapter has delved into meaningful relationships and intersecting identities as a way of amassing capital and recognition. My research has given me a deeper insight into the lives of these women and what it means to be a middle-class British-Pakistani woman. The role and position of a middle-class BritishPakistani woman comes with challenges, contradictions and dilemmas. The women were responsible for observing cultural expectations such as taking care of in-laws, fulfilling the religious obligation of caring for parents, and being good mothers and accomplished homemakers. At the same time, they were also trying to balance western feminist ideals of being successful independent career women. They were becoming more devout and knowledgeable about their faith while following worldly pursuits, such as cutting-edge fashion and an interest in popular culture. This book has highlighted how middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester have agency: they upheld the values that suited them. These findings contradict the image of Muslim and Pakistani women as victims of a patriarchal system made popular by the press and media. In reality, the women were exploiting this patriarchal system as well as their religious and cultural conventions to increase their chances of maintaining and improving their standing and influence. What to outsiders would seem

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like a contradiction—the balancing of apparently antithetical values—was to them a simple fact of life as second-generation women in Britain. The women in my study were realising that they were in a unique position, in that their experiences were different to those of other middleclass migrants in Britain. Against the backdrop of Islamophobia, they had to prove that they were worthy of their status, not just as middle-class women, but as British Muslims who deserved recognition for upholding British values. Meanwhile, they were also aware of the notorious reputation that British-Pakistanis and Muslims had garnered in the aftermath of the Rushdie Affair and, some years later, as a result of the 9/11 terror attacks in New York and the 7/7 bombings in London.1 BritishPakistanis are faced with double discrimination, for being Muslim and Pakistani, seemingly undesirable identities as reinforced by the press and the media. In their day-to-day lives, the women were contesting these negative images of Pakistanis and Muslims in Britain. In spite of this, they were proud of being British-Pakistani, and felt they had no reason to feel ashamed. Pakistani culture represented exuberance, sophistication, wealth and excitement. They looked up to middle-class Pakistani nationals in Manchester and saw them as a symbol of status and capital, situated at the top of the social ladder. The image of Pakistan and Pakistanis that they celebrated was the antithesis of the one established in the British press and media. Similarly, the women were proud of being Muslim, and they looked for opportunities to celebrate their religious identity. Positive recognition and respect for their cultural and religious heritage was fundamental for their esteem and sense of self, particularly in a climate of Islamophobia. More importantly, their middle-class status was recognised and celebrated through their ethnic, cultural and religious identities. The women felt it was important to pass on this sense of pride in their cultural and religious heritage to their children. They achieved this through socialising among British-Pakistani friends, and also depended on the influence of family. The climate of heightened media prejudice and everyday antipathy towards British-Pakistanis and Muslims were the reasons why many of the women turned to family, religion and British-Pakistani groups of friends to create a sense of belonging and acceptance. The negative stereotypes of British-Pakistanis and Muslims in the media made it challenging for them to feel accepted and respected outside of their ethnic and religious group. In a world which felt increasingly hostile towards Muslims, many British-Pakistanis were pushed closer to their faith and cultural heritage.

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Although family had always been central to the lives of the women, family was more important than ever now: not only for love, care and belonging, but also to instil certain values. Essentially, the connection to family, faith, friendships and cultural values enabled the women to overcome prejudice and, more importantly, help them to make sense of the world they lived in. These strategies were important to the women as ways of carving a place for themselves that they chose to embrace, where they felt they had some control over their own choice to belong as middle-class working women who were also committed and engaged with their culture and their families. Thus family, British-Pakistani, and British Muslim friends have been pivotal in the lives of the women in terms of belonging and acceptance—manifested through the recognition of sameness, such as shared experiences of minority status, upbringing and values. This was not an act of self-segregation but an outcome of feeling marginalised. The women were aware of being judged for their cultural and religious differences, which overshadowed what they felt that they shared or had in common with white British people. For example, their attempts to forge friendships with white British mothers at their children’s school, or with people in their workplaces, lacked reciprocation. Furthermore, these women believed many white British people chose to ignore their middle-class status because it clashed with the image of British-Pakistani and Muslim women as being submissive and from an alien culture. Consequently, their social positioning was defined through acceptance of their ethnic and religious minority status. Thus family, friends, history, experiences, amenities, interests, familiarity and language have all been factors that have contributed to a sense of belonging. Belonging offered a social arena where they could compete with each other, a level playing field where everyone understood the rules and how to play the game, dictated by cultural and religious values. This presented an alternative way of earning capital and asserting their middle-class status. British-Pakistani friends had a dual purpose at social gatherings: they were competitors and allies. The ability to impress friends, and at the same time be their competitor, was something to be desired. At social gatherings, the women relied on friends to promote their merits, and also the achievements of their children, to a well-informed audience. They counted on this form of publicity to earn social capital and thrived on this fiercely competitive environment because recognition and capital gave them a sense of power and influence.2 Those who amassed the greatest capital gained credibility among friends and family, which led

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to greater power and autonomy. These women were not skilled in every aspect of their lives but engaged in social fields which were often overlapping and changing, enabling them to display their particular strengths and attributes according to the social field in question, which earned them prestige and capital. Adapting to different social situations was key, through having the ability to recognise the identities which amass capital in each context. Essentially, those with greater power and autonomy defined the boundaries of belonging, and specifically what credentials earned capital. The women had the agency to decide how and where they wanted to belong, and to gain recognition. Mahmood’s notion of ‘positive freedom’ (2011: 11) helps to explain the women’s practices of exploiting certain religious and cultural conventions as a way of earning capital. Certain cultural values were used as barriers in the way of choices, to make the process of acquiring capital all the more challenging, in the same way as Mahmood’s positive freedom. With so many requirements to fulfil in order to earn status, the women were never complacent, but were always striving to increase their potential. Thus, the women conformed to particular values and accommodated others, depending on their circumstances and their audience. What was absolute and concrete was the idea of adhering to a set of values and expectations to create this illusion of sameness which helped them to identify with others and to establish a sense of belonging. It is through this idea of the identification of sameness that the women were able to amass capital, respect and recognition among family, friends, and those they interacted with at work and in the local community. As mentioned above, the potential for acquiring capital was greater along the lines of shared identities, lifestyle, upbringing, values and common experiences. Therefore, friendships with British-Pakistanis and British Muslims earned the women more capital and recognition than friendships among their non-Muslim and non-Asian friends. This is not to say that close friendships were only possible among people of similar cultural and religious backgrounds. Social interaction with non-Muslims was critical to establishing a favourable image of British-Pakistanis and Muslims. Participation with charitable projects in their local area such as at school or work, in the neighbourhood and through their local mosque, were ways in which my interlocutors were contesting negative stereotypes of Muslims and British-Pakistanis. Engaging in philanthropic causes was empowering for the women, knowing that their actions were challenging the negative image of Muslims and British-Pakistanis, albeit at a grassroots

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level. The mosque has been central to the lives of most of the women, not only in celebrating a religious identity but also in serving as a place of belonging and acceptance for British Muslims. The mosque played a key role in creating a forum for bridging across ethnic and religious differences with the aim of building an inclusive community through its hospitality and philanthropy in hosting social and charity events. Through visual piety and allegiance to a mosque, the women were representing Islam: a positive and virtuous identity and an example of how British Muslims are supposed to behave. Events at the mosque and other charity functions have been strategies to demonstrate to the general public that British values and Muslim values were synonymous, that being a good Muslim equated to being a good British person. Through their achievements, such as in their careers, they were demonstrating that Muslim women were not submissive, but accomplished, competitive and influential, akin to their non-Muslim counterparts. They were also motivated to prove to other middle-class migrants in Britain, as well as to white British middle-class people, that they were deserving of recognition of their middle-class status and their positive contribution to British society. Furthermore, they were aware that as migrants, it was their duty to seize opportunities in Britain, knowing that if their parents had not migrated, they would be less likely to establish a secure future for themselves and their families in Pakistan. They appreciated the sacrifices that their parents had made in leaving their homeland and relatives to provide a promising future for their children. This competitive, driven spirit was perpetuated through the generations. The mothers of my informants had instilled them with confidence and esteem, encouraging them to reach their full potential. Their upbringing resulted in the women becoming zealous mothers, having high expectations of their own children. These mothers were not only influential in instilling a competitive streak in their children, but also in passing down certain religious and cultural values. This is why many of the women believed that their attitude towards their in-laws reflected their upbringing and the values their mothers had passed on to them. Being a dutiful daughter-in-law, a good mother, accomplished in the domestic sphere of cooking, entertaining and homemaking, was a reflection of their upbringing—the skills and values passed down from mother to daughter. These values were passed on to ensure their daughters were empowered and had status in their married lives as well as their professional lives. For example, the women understood the power of patriarchy, but instead of

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viewing it as a system of oppressing women, they used it as a tool for empowerment. Recognition from in-laws brought them honour, respect and belonging, and made them a valued member of the family. With this status, the women became autonomous and were given trust, love and support from their in-laws. This is what mothers wanted for their daughters: to be successful and empowered in both the private and public domains. To achieve such capital and status, the women had to be very competitive among their British-Pakistani friends and family members. By playing the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law, they were setting an example for others, such as valorising certain values and standards which they expected their brother’s wives to also live up to, and for their daughters-in-law to live by when their sons got married. Thus, in such situations, they promoted a patriarchal system to serve their interests. Many women embraced the patriarchal tradition of either living with or caring for their in-laws because this role was a means of obtaining power, status and capital: an example of positive freedom (Mahmood 2011). It was up to them how much recognition and empowerment they wanted, and the greater the challenge, the more power they gained. At the same time, many of the women did not want their own daughters to experience the burden of this custom, having to live up to certain expectations and abide by strict rules early in their marriage. While the women observed patriarchal values such as the expectation of daughtersin-law to integrate with their in-laws, they were also paving the way for the next generation by making subtle changes such as encouraging filial duty, and creating a more egalitarian system where responsibility for caring for aging parents rested on both the daughter and son. These nuances meant that the ideas of duty to in-laws, the expectations of inlaws, and ways of belonging were becoming more fluid and negotiable over time, and also ambiguous and sometimes contradictory. On the one hand, the women upheld certain expectations of women towards their in-laws and were disappointed when these expectations were not met, especially by their brothers’ wives. On the other hand, they exploited religious rhetoric to justify duty to their own parents, and also wanted their own daughters, when they got married, to show greater commitment to them than to their in-laws. What they knew, however, was that times were changing, and all they could do was to impress upon their own children the values of obligation and love that had been dear to them, to their own sense of belonging to a British-Pakistani identity. Family values were

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changing and being influenced by two contrasting values systems: religious rhetoric that condemned patriarchal marriage customs, and also the nuclear family set-up that prevailed in the West. They were noticing that British-Pakistani women who were getting married now were less likely to observe the patriarchal culture, and more inclined to move towards a nuclear family set-up. The women were unsure of how certain cultural values would be sustained into subsequent generations, although they were noticing that visual piety and religious identity was increasing among the younger generation. The women looked to their own parents as an example of how to bring up children. They learnt from their parents that some of the traditions and customs they endorsed had to be modified over the years, to keep up with the changes in values and expectations in the wider societal context. A close relationship between parents and children made negotiation of certain expectations easier. Parents trusted their children and gave them more autonomy and independence, and children tried to be dutiful out of love and gratitude. Belonging in the home was also important for ensuring that children had an affiliation to parents and siblings. Therefore, in the experience of the women growing up as second-generation BritishPakistanis, the idea and desire for freedom was very much enmeshed with the idea of belonging in the family, and the longing for acceptance, recognition and esteem. Instead of searching for this from their white British peers, at school or in their workplace, they achieved the recognition and status they craved in the home. More importantly, second-generation British-Pakistanis did not want to let go of their cultural and religious values because they believed that, not being white, they could never fully assimilate. Therefore, it was critical to them to take pride in their heritage. Belonging through family and other middle-class British-Pakistanis added meaning to their lives, giving them a sense of worth, recognition and dignity through a positive association and representation of their religious and cultural background. This confidence through belonging and achievement enabled them to be British-Pakistani and Muslim on their own terms, such as being proud to express that they were British through their visibly Muslim identity. Since leaving the field, many changes have occurred in the lives of my participants. Firstly, most of the women have resumed their careers now that their children are in high school, and some have left home for university. They were no longer as involved in the mosque as they had been, due to work commitments. However, a number of my participant’s

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children attended the youth club organised for teenagers at Riverside Mosque, where they socialised with friends. Soon after my fieldwork, I was informed that Syrah and her family had moved to Pakistan. She had expressed many times during my fieldwork her desire to move back to Pakistan, to be near her siblings and parents. After a few years Syrah and her family returned to Manchester, and she decided to resume her career as a doctor in general medicine. Syrah had expressed many times during fieldwork that her parents encouraged to focus on her career. Amber also returned to work full time as a solicitor at the law firm where she had previously practiced. Both Amber and Syrah were no longer avid followers of Farhat Hashmi. Ruby was very busy with her career, and also with her daughter’s swimming lessons. She accompanied her daughter to training sessions, swimming competitions, and tournaments around Britain. She was encouraging her daughter to become a professional swimmer, representing Great Britain. Sadly, Serena had lost both her parents in the space of three years. She had devoted many years to caring for them, putting her career on hold. Now that her children had left home and her parents had sadly passed away, she now kept busy with her career and travelling. Gazala’s daughter married outside of her ethnic and religious group, with the support and blessing of her family. This made me wonder if cultural expectations were changing among the next generation of BritishPakistanis. I was no longer in touch with many of the women because of their work and personal commitments. I am curious about the new phases in their lives, how the changes in their lives have shifted their concerns, interests and affiliations, and the effect of these changes on their sense of belonging and identity. Since my fieldwork, there have been several terror attacks by those claiming to be Muslim, in France, Belgium, London and Manchester. The most devastating and the one closest to home was the Manchester Arena bombing, claiming the lives of many people. Again, this was a terror attack by someone claiming to be Muslim. Riverside and Fairview Mosques condemned these attacks and stood in solidarity with fellow Mancunians. From personal experience at the time of this tragedy Mancunians were overwhelmed and united by grief. If I returned to the field now, the women would be able to share their thoughts and experiences of this awful tragedy. Islamophobia would continue to be a topic of concern among the women. They would undoubtedly feel that Muslims

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are still a marginalised group. Stories of these attacks still make sensationalist headline news. In addition to this, the stories about the Pakistani paedophile gang in Rotherham have remained in the headlines. Although these criminals were caught in 2013, some of their victims were waiving their anonymity and sharing their stories of abuse in the media. The bad reputation of British-Pakistanis and Muslims seems to be lingering. As the women have entered a new phase in their lives, having a career and grown up children, I am interested in discovering whether they have continued to have influence in shaping their children’s values. Were the expectations that my participants had of their children realistic? I would like to find out if patriarchal traditions are as important, and if marrying outside of their religious and ethnic group was becoming more common and acceptable. Returning to the field would be very interesting, enabling me to discover the values and expectations that had stood the test of time. This was a challenging period for the women, as their power and influence were shifting, and they were faced with new demands and expectations. This book, in this sense, has given me the opportunity to examine the lives and identities of middle-class second-generation British-Pakistani women in Manchester at a specific point in time. It offers a temporal focus into their ongoing endeavour to belong.

Notes 1. Most of those behind the 7/7 terror attacks were British-Pakistanis. 2. Bourdieu’s (1984) notion of social field and capital and Goffman’s (1959) concept of performance helped explain this competitiveness among the women.

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Index

A Abbas, T., 50–52, 179, 203 Agency, 6, 7, 19, 30, 32–35, 51, 66, 73, 94, 113, 118, 140, 167, 177, 196, 197, 212 Alcohol, 61, 62, 95, 143, 188, 197 Al-Huda, 191, 192, 195, 199, 201 Ambition, 8, 39, 81–86, 90, 99, 100, 106, 127 Arranged marriage, 81, 95, 97, 135 B Belonging, 1–3, 5–7, 9, 14, 17–20, 28, 30, 31, 36, 39, 45–47, 56, 57, 61, 67, 72, 79, 88, 90, 93, 104, 113, 116, 119, 121, 127–129, 138, 139, 143, 144, 147, 148, 150, 153, 155, 162, 163, 166, 168–171, 177, 190, 191, 199, 202, 204, 210–216 Bhimji, F., 8, 9, 11, 51, 73, 198 Bolognani, M., 51, 89, 91, 124, 147, 172, 198, 200

Bourdieu, P., 3, 30, 35–37, 64, 151–153, 161, 172, 217 British, 1–12, 14–22, 25–37, 39, 40, 45–51, 54, 56–74, 79, 81, 84, 85, 89–92, 95–97, 99, 102–106, 108, 114, 115, 118, 119, 122–124, 128, 129, 131– 134, 139, 143–164, 166–173, 177, 179–181, 184, 186, 187, 190, 192, 198–200, 202–204, 209–217

C Career, 2, 4, 13–17, 19, 27, 35, 40, 45, 58, 81, 83, 84, 88, 92, 93, 97, 100, 102, 106, 107, 127–129, 133, 135, 138, 147, 149, 150, 167, 200, 202, 209, 213, 215–217 Charsley, K., 114, 140, 147, 172 Cheshire, 64, 85 Chinese, 107, 108, 115, 139, 158

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 N. Mirza, Navigating the Everyday as Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49312-7

235

236

INDEX

Class, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8–11, 15, 17, 18, 20, 25–27, 30, 31, 33, 35–37, 39, 45, 46, 50, 55, 67, 80, 88, 90, 118, 132, 143, 145, 147, 151–153, 159, 160, 164, 165, 171, 172, 177, 179 Competition, 8, 19, 30, 37, 70, 121, 150, 216 Culture, 2, 3, 5, 6, 9, 10, 12, 20, 21, 25, 26, 29, 32, 34, 37, 53, 58, 59, 61, 62, 66, 67, 72, 73, 80, 84, 91, 92, 95, 96, 101, 104– 106, 108, 114, 115, 118, 119, 121, 124, 128, 130, 131, 138, 144–148, 150–153, 158–164, 167–169, 179, 183, 196–198, 200, 202, 203, 209–211, 215 D Dating, 61, 99, 101, 108 Daughter, 8, 9, 19, 38, 39, 79–81, 83–86, 88–92, 94–97, 99–101, 105–108, 115, 117, 126, 133, 136, 138–140, 148, 157, 163, 213, 214, 216 Daughter-in-law, 9, 13, 19, 34, 38, 80, 107, 113–120, 122–127, 129–133, 135, 136, 139, 140, 199, 213, 214 Divorce, 13, 101 E Education, 8, 10, 18, 19, 26–29, 33, 72, 82–84, 89, 90, 92, 93, 95, 99, 100, 106–108, 125, 146, 150, 152, 166, 170, 171, 179, 196, 203 English, 5, 55–57, 59–65, 71, 73, 88, 90, 98, 99, 104, 118, 119, 145, 158, 168, 181, 187, 192, 194, 195

Ethnic boundaries, 11, 31, 38, 39 Ethnicity, 2, 6, 9, 11, 17, 18, 25, 26, 30–33, 35, 39, 50, 58, 67, 143 Ethnic minority, 5, 25, 29, 39, 47, 50, 54, 56, 58, 64, 72, 84, 85, 107, 108, 128, 211 F Family, 2, 8, 11, 13–19, 21, 26, 27, 31, 34–38, 45–47, 49, 51, 56, 70, 72, 79–82, 84–93, 96, 98–107, 113–122, 125–129, 131, 133–140, 144–146, 148–150, 152, 153, 155, 156, 159–161, 163, 166, 168, 169, 171, 172, 178, 180, 187, 195, 196, 199, 200, 210–212, 214–216 Fashion, 20, 89, 144, 148, 156, 158, 167, 168, 178, 182–185, 202, 209 Feminism, 124, 200 First-generation, 3, 4, 8–10, 22, 35, 36, 59, 70, 82–84, 91, 106, 108, 115, 130, 131, 140, 153, 154, 180, 192 Food, 5, 16, 20, 35, 61, 70, 71, 84, 90, 93, 98, 103, 104, 108, 144, 145, 163, 168, 173, 188, 190 Freedom, 12, 33, 34, 51, 85, 91, 95, 97, 101, 198, 200, 212, 214, 215 Friendship, 5, 14, 15, 18, 20, 26, 27, 56, 62, 64, 67, 103, 128, 139, 145, 158, 167, 170, 171, 177, 181, 183, 185, 190, 192, 202, 211, 212 G Gender, 2, 9, 10, 12, 26, 31, 33–35, 39, 45, 50, 67, 96, 115, 127, 143, 177, 192, 200, 202

INDEX

Glick-Schiller, N., 6, 9, 10, 39, 67, 71, 73, 146, 148, 163

H Hadith, 178–180, 187, 188, 191, 192, 197, 203 Hashmi, F., 187, 191–198, 200–202, 216 Headscarf, 10, 34, 60, 178–182, 187, 196 Heritage, 1, 2, 6, 20, 22, 29, 32, 45, 49, 51, 58, 67, 91, 96, 97, 104, 106, 119, 145, 146, 148, 157, 161–163, 171, 172, 191, 192, 194, 204, 210, 215

I Identity, 1–3, 6, 8, 9, 11, 17, 18, 20, 25–27, 29–36, 46, 48, 53, 56, 57, 61, 62, 67, 68, 73, 79, 91, 97, 104, 105, 118, 119, 130, 139, 143–146, 150, 161–166, 168–170, 173, 177, 181–183, 186, 191, 196, 202–204, 210, 213–216 India, 4, 154, 158 Indian, 4, 15, 22, 29, 40, 57, 68, 70, 74, 96, 157, 158, 160, 164, 172 In-laws, 34, 38, 80, 81, 83, 87, 88, 97, 100–102, 107, 113–135, 137–140, 198, 200, 204, 209, 213, 214 Intersecting identities, 3, 30, 31, 39, 67, 209 Islam, 6, 8, 10, 11, 21, 27, 29, 40, 47–54, 57, 61, 65, 67–69, 71, 74, 90, 95, 101, 123, 124, 177–183, 185–189, 191, 193, 194, 196–198, 201–204, 213 Islamabad, 162, 191

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Islamophobia, 2, 3, 7, 10, 21, 28, 32, 40, 46–48, 50–55, 57, 60, 62, 66, 67, 138, 147, 190, 202, 210, 216

K Karachi, 149, 162

L Lahore, 103, 148, 162

M Mahmood, S., 32–34, 180, 181, 189, 190, 198, 204, 212, 214 Maqsood, A., 162, 173, 179, 182, 183, 191, 197 Marriage, 13, 15, 51, 81–83, 85, 87–89, 97, 100–102, 108, 113, 114, 116, 118, 120–122, 125, 126, 128–131, 138–140, 199, 214, 215 Media, 6, 7, 20, 32, 45–52, 54, 59, 61, 63, 65, 69, 150, 155, 160, 162, 168, 172, 183, 209, 210, 217 Migrants, 2, 4, 7, 9, 10, 12, 17, 19, 21, 26, 29, 35, 36, 48, 56, 61, 67, 68, 80, 82, 83, 86, 96, 101, 106, 108, 116, 128, 130, 140, 143, 147, 148, 154, 159, 162, 165, 169, 171, 172, 190, 192, 210, 213 Mirpur, 89, 96, 108, 172 Modood, T., 25, 28, 32, 40, 47, 48, 50–53, 61, 62, 64, 83, 84 Mosque, 8, 15, 22, 37, 46, 54, 67–71, 73, 74, 133, 153, 160, 161, 177, 179, 180, 185–195, 197, 202, 204, 212, 213, 215, 216

238

INDEX

Mother, 4, 8, 9, 13, 15, 19, 38, 39, 55, 63, 65, 68, 69, 71, 79–103, 105–108, 115, 116, 121, 123, 125, 126, 128, 133–135, 137–139, 153, 172, 183, 192, 199, 200, 209, 211, 213, 214 Mother-in-law, 19, 103, 113–115, 118, 120, 122–126, 129, 130, 132–135, 137 Multiculturalism, 21, 31, 36, 61 Muslim, 1–4, 6–10, 15, 18, 20, 21, 25, 27–33, 37, 40, 45–74, 83, 85, 92, 95, 104, 124, 138–140, 143, 144, 146, 158, 161, 163, 166, 172, 173, 177–183, 186, 189–193, 196, 197, 199, 201–204, 209–213, 215–217

N Native anthropologist, 10–12, 17 Nostalgia, 20, 22, 95, 163, 169

O Other, 29, 50–52, 54

P Pakistan, 3, 4, 6, 15, 16, 22, 26, 27, 56, 70, 74, 80–82, 86, 89, 90, 92, 99, 100, 103, 108, 125, 131, 139, 140, 143–156, 158–163, 165, 168–173, 179, 182, 191, 192, 195, 203, 210, 213, 216 Pakistani nationals, 6, 20, 22, 143, 147–149, 151, 152, 156, 158–160, 162, 167, 168, 171, 172, 210 Parents, 3–5, 7–10, 15, 16, 19, 21, 22, 27, 30, 34, 38, 51, 57, 59, 61–63, 69–71, 74, 79–86, 88–91, 93–98, 100–107,

113–118, 120–128, 134–140, 143, 145–147, 149, 152, 153, 159, 160, 163, 164, 166, 169, 179, 180, 186, 196–198, 200, 202, 209, 213–216 Patriarchy, 32, 195, 200, 213 Patrilocal, 115, 116, 122, 124, 129, 132, 136 Performance, 3, 17, 20, 27, 36, 37, 39, 40, 56, 72, 83, 89, 120, 143, 144, 160, 164, 165, 170, 172, 177, 189, 203, 217 Piety, 2, 20, 64, 171, 177, 178, 180–183, 187, 190, 193, 196, 200–203, 213, 215 Prayer, 105, 128, 189, 190, 194, 203 Prejudice, 2, 3, 7, 9, 10, 18, 19, 25, 28–30, 36, 45, 46, 49, 51–55, 57–62, 65, 72, 73, 79, 143, 144, 172, 210, 211 Punjabi, 73, 138, 159, 172

Q Quran, 49, 105, 108, 170, 179–182, 185, 187, 188, 191, 197, 204

R Race, 6, 25, 31–33, 39, 47, 50, 53, 70, 119, 143 Recognition, 2, 3, 6, 9, 17, 18, 20, 21, 26, 27, 30, 33–38, 40, 45, 60, 72, 79, 88, 107, 113, 115, 116, 118, 126, 135, 138, 139, 157, 158, 160, 161, 165, 167, 168, 170, 171, 177, 183, 184, 192, 202, 203, 209–215 Religion, 2, 5, 6, 10, 12, 17, 18, 20, 29, 31, 33, 35, 39, 47, 50, 53, 57, 66, 69, 74, 91, 92, 95, 96, 124, 130, 163, 166, 170, 177,

INDEX

179, 180, 187, 189, 190, 193, 197, 198, 203, 210 Remittance, 27, 86, 93, 125, 140, 149 Respect, 6, 9, 12, 17–21, 30, 34, 56, 59, 73, 87, 94, 98, 100, 114–116, 118–122, 124, 126, 127, 131, 134, 135, 137, 139, 140, 145, 160, 200, 210, 212, 214 Runnymede Trust, 40, 53, 54 Rushdie Affair (The), 48, 210 Rytter, M., 48, 50, 52, 82, 83, 97, 101, 114–116, 129, 130, 145, 168

S School, 1, 13–16, 21, 26, 31, 37, 46, 47, 55–58, 61–66, 69, 70, 72–74, 83, 84, 86, 88–90, 92, 93, 98, 99, 104, 105, 122, 125, 129, 148, 157, 161, 166, 178, 186, 187, 191, 192, 211, 212, 215 Second-generation, 1–3, 6, 8, 9, 11, 14–17, 20, 26, 31, 34–36, 39, 61, 74, 82, 84, 97, 99, 101, 107, 116, 130, 132, 134, 138, 139, 143, 144, 148, 151–153, 158–162, 164, 167–169, 172, 179, 180, 186, 187, 192, 210, 215, 217 Shaw, A., 7, 8, 95, 108, 114–116, 125, 140 Social field, 3, 26, 27, 30, 36–39, 144, 159, 160, 162, 163, 172, 212, 217

239

South Asian, 4, 5, 8–10, 12, 22, 26, 34, 36, 40, 73, 74, 83, 85, 96, 104, 107, 108, 114, 119, 127, 128, 130, 140, 147, 148, 157, 160, 164, 172, 194, 199, 204 Status, 2, 3, 7, 8, 10, 18–20, 25–28, 33–35, 38–40, 45, 47, 48, 61, 72, 83, 86, 90, 107, 113, 115, 117, 125–128, 130, 133, 138–140, 149–153, 159–161, 165, 167, 171, 172, 195, 200, 202, 210–215 T Terrorism, 49, 54, 57, 162 Tradition, 30, 79, 80, 85, 89, 96, 101, 102, 114, 128, 130, 134, 145, 177, 184, 196, 198, 199, 214, 215, 217 Transnational, 26, 67, 89, 140, 144, 148, 151, 159, 160, 162, 163, 168 U Upbringing, 1, 5, 8, 20, 22, 26, 38, 39, 45, 53, 72, 80, 85, 98–100, 104, 107, 117, 118, 127, 131, 133, 135, 138, 144, 146, 159, 164, 166–168, 179, 183, 211–213 Urdu, 26, 90, 105, 118, 158–160, 167, 171, 172, 192, 194, 195 W Werbner, P., 4, 7, 8, 29, 30, 32, 36, 52, 53, 61, 70, 82, 86, 104, 108, 114, 116, 137, 154, 171, 196