Nine to Five - Muslims in the Western Workplace 9781590080689, 2011013593

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“9 to 5: Muslims in the Western Workplace” provides an insider’s

view into what it means to be a Muslim at work. The volume is comprised of several actual and dramatized first-person

accounts by Muslims in many different professions. Through the narratives and commentary, the author sets out to dispel myths,

break down stereotypes, and generally show that “different” at work isn’t always “wrong”. By sharing their honest stories, the Muslim contributors clearly articulate some of the internal and external struggles they’ve faced in different occupations and how

they’ve dealt with each situation. These candid tales help vocalize

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the chronicles of integration and identity retention at work and

provide us all with a platform for understanding how Islam and work in the West really can go hand-in-hand.

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*■ al-Zuhri > Urwa (A’ishas nephew) > Aisha may Allah be pleased with them all. 10

Can’t Touch This

preparing them in advance. The question now has moved from, ‘what do

I do in those awkward situations?’ to ‘how can I educate my office about Muslim ways?’

This same concept of education before the situation can be applied to

other classic misunderstandings about the relationship between secular and religious laws. Naturally, every person of faith holds that their law is morally superior to secular man-made law, and thus more worthy of their

submission.

This is often misconstrued into thinking that flaunting

secular law is an indicator of religiosity.

In fact, the opposite is true

because Allah (SWT) does not like disobedience in any of its forms, be it

against Him or against a human authority figure. In Surat An-Nisa Allah (SWT) says, “Obey Allah and the Messenger and those in authority among you” (ayah 59). That final phrase, “those in author­

ity among you,” does not indicate that the authority figure must be Muslim. The famed Hasan al-Basri said, “One hour of anarchy is worse than onehundred years of tyranny.”

So, as long as one is able to do what is required and is not forced to do what

is prohibited, the Muslim has no argument against his or her state or employ­ er. There is nothing un-Islamic’ or disloyal to Allah (SWT) when one must

curtail his or her worship at the work-place—even the obligatory worship— due to secular dictates.

In the specific case of Hajj, Allah never obliged that one make Hajj in any specific year. He simply said, “Whoever is able.” Among the reasons that jurists permitted one not to make Hajj is that ones wealth would be

vulnerable in their absence. Not being able to get time off work, is thus a valid excuse to postpone Hajj, so long as one has honestly made an

earnest effort to get the required days off.

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- S. E.

Chapter 2

Take Me Out to the Ball Game [Dramatized Narrative] V t’s been thirteen years of coming in and out of this same office, sitting I at this same desk, going through the motions of this same old work

JL routine that never seems to end. Trudging along after fajr (sunrise

prayer) every morning, I sprint to catch the “A” train and then march through the crowded city streets to make it in time for another ten to

twelve hour day in the high rise. The monotony of my position as an

accountant gets to me sometimes. Of course there are good days and bad days—but most days I just find myself wondering why I didn’t enter a more “useful” field, working in a position where I could gain personal

satisfaction and pride without questioning my ethics, compromising my beliefs, or wondering what benefit I’ve brought to the world today.

The phone rings, startling me out of my late afternoon reverie. The nasal sounding secretary tells me Joanie needs to see me in her office. I roll my eyes and restrain myself from slamming the phone back into its

cradle. Joanie, an attractive young woman recently promoted to Project Manager, is constantly calling me into her office. Unfortunately, it seems like her looks alone may have given her the edge in getting this

promotion—it definitely doesn’t seem like her technical expertise won the position. Yesterday morning, she couldn’t find the power button on her computer and called me in to figure out why her computer wasn’t

working. Then about an hour later it was a paper jam in her printer. A

mere forty-five minutes after that, I got the phone call summoning me to help her unfurl the blinds on the windows in her office.

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As annoying as her summons can sometimes be, Joanies puppy-dog pathetic pleas seem to warrant rescuing every time. The fact that she

seems genuinely grateful and appreciative afterward is also a lot more

than what I can say for most people at this company. Either way, it’s sometimes nice to have a distraction at work once in awhile. I adjust the picture of “Elmo” on my desk that my youngest son had drawn for me that morning and head out towards Joanies office. A quick

knock and I’m welcomed in. Her perfume fills the small space and I can’t help but inhale the pleasant scent.

As I greet the pretty brunette, a

distant warning bell sets off in my mind. I dismiss the unsettling thought and commence my usual joking banter with the new PM. Her tightly

tailored red suit accentuates her body in a rather provocative way and I quickly drop my gaze thinking only of my wife... only of my wife. It’s hard to ignore the perfumed scent though as it pervades my senses.

“Alright, so what can I help you with?” My voice takes on a stern edge as I realize my best course of action is to simply get out of the room as quickly as possible. I glance up again when she makes no response.

“Are you okay, Amer? You look upset. Did I do something to upset you?”

Joanies bottom lip forms into a child-like pout and she looks genuinely concerned.

I laugh at my own overly-anxious state and relax a bit. After all, we are at work, not a club scene. And I am just doing my job so that I can

support my wife and kids. In that there must be some type of reward. Joanie just needs help, and who better to help her than someone like

me—someone who would never take advantage of her youth and beauty?

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I smile back at Joanie and watch the concern erase from her brows. “Don’t worry. I actually don’t need your help with anything today. I just want to talk.” Her velvet tone sounds even more snake-like now. Uh-oh. The insistent mental warning bell begins ringing louder and

louder with each word that comes out of Joanie’s red-lined lips.

“You’re such a strait-lace, Amer. Relax.” Her laughter again fills the small

space and eases my apprehension.

“I just wanted to ask you if you would like to come with me to the com­

pany Christmas party. I don’t really feel like walking in alone.” “The Christmas party? Ummmm, I don’t celebrate Christmas. I wasn’t planning on going. I never go to the Christmas party.” With my admis­

sion, I feel my cheeks burn beneath my beard. “I know hon. And that’s the problem.” Joanie stands up and walks over to where I’m now sitting. Perching on the corner of her desk with long

legs crossed primly at the ankles, she leans in closer to me, just as I move

back as far away from her as possible. “Look, Amer. I’m going to be square with you. Ever since I got this promotion, I’ve been hearing things. And a lot of the things I’ve been hearing have to do with you not being much of a team player. You never

go out to lunch with everyone else. You never go to the company outings

like last month’s football game, or the picnic over the summer—even

though you could have brought your entire family along. Friend to friend, I’ve got to tell you: if you care about your job, then you should come to

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the Christmas party—with me. Trust me; I can make you look good, Joanie smiles in an almost triumphant way as she leans in even closer. “I never go to these things because I don’t like the atmosphere. And I

don’t want to subject my family to that kind of climate either.” As soon

as the words leave my lips, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. Joanie abruptly stands up and practically stomps back to her seat.

“Suit yourself, Mr. High and Mighty. If you think you and your family are too good to mingle with the rest of us mere mortals, then don’t go. But, don’t come crying back to me saying I didn’t warn you.” Joanie’s

thinly veiled threat makes it seem like she’s on the verge of throwing a tantrum like a petulant child.

What if she’s right? I can’t tell her that I don’t want to be around all that alcohol that’s sure to be at the party. Or that I have no interest in

socially interacting with anyone outside of work. Does my future at the company really hinge on my participation in outings I have no interest in

attending?

As I grapple with my own conflicting emotions, I can see Joanie getting

impatient with me. Her six-inch heels begin tapping out a rhythm on the floor that nearly rivals the speed of her fingers flying across the keyboard. I doubt she is even typing anything other than “glkafjlkjfdlkjsflkjslkfj” simply to give off the impression of self-importance.

I chuckle a little and lean forward. “Okay. I’ll go.” Joanie’s million-watt smile lights up her face. “Good! I mean, .. good for you. At least now you’ll prove all those people wrong.”

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I stand up and make my way to the door.

“Pick me up at seven tomorrow night. I’ll text you my address and I’ll be ready.” Another dazzling smile.

“The party’s tomorrow night already? But, I didn’t even RSVP.” Panic settles in again as I realize I don’t even have much time to come up with

a good excuse like contracting some rare 24 hour disease that would keep

me from going.

“Don’t worry. I already sent in your response card. And I chose the steak for you. See, I told you... I’ve got your back.” I have to get out of there.

With a quick nod, I practically sprint out the door and into the men’s room where I begin to feel a bit queasy. It’s almost five o’clock on a Friday and I decide it’s time to go. Grabbing my laptop, I’m out the door and on my way home before anyone can try to stop me.

I have a nice commute ahead of me to think through the mess I’ve made

of things. Why couldn’t I just say ‘no’ to Joanie’s persuasiveness? Now I

am stuck going to a party for a holiday I don’t even celebrate that is bound to be filled with drunken exploits, judging from last year’s stories. On top

of that, not only am I going to be leaving my family at home on a

Saturday night, but I’m leaving them to go out with an attractive young woman, who somehow cajoled me into picking her up. How on earth am

I ever going to get out of this one?

As the train chugs along with an insistent rhythm, I begin to rationalize my actions. After all, this is work. And didn’t Joanie stress the possibili-

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ty of my losing my job if I didn’t attend? Where would my family be if I

didn’t inconvenience myself this one time and just do what I have to do

to ensure my job security? Isn’t it enough that I don’t really want to go? I would only be going to prove a point, put in an appearance, and

leave early. My wife doesn’t need to know about Joanie. It would just upset her for no reason if I mention that part. Leaving out a little bit of

information can’t really hurt. Clearing my head, I settle back into the train cushions and close my

eyes. Yes, I am making the right decision. There really is no other choice in the matter. If someone so lacking in brilliance like Joanie could get promoted so quickly based on social status alone, then it must be time for

me to start moving up the ladder as well—regardless of the cost. And what better way to make it up the ladder than by hanging onto the coat­

tails of one who’s already been there and done that? One party—that’s all it’ll take, right? The nature of work really requires this and there is nothing I can do about it. With an eased conscience, I

settle back and enjoy the rest of the ride. The party will be over before I even know it.

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Project Manager [Authentic Account]

- R. R. or some, being a Muslim in corporate America is not an issue. For

me however, it has been and continues to be a daily struggle. For

the last fourteen years I have worked for five major corporations in various roles. Within each role the difficulties have been the same although with differing degrees of severity. As my responsibilities and

scope of control have progressively increased over the years, the dilemmas I have faced being a Muslim have actually increased in both number and complexity. In the paragraphs that follow, I will chronicle some of those

experiences in an attempt to illustrate the internal battles I faced as a

Muslim working in America. What’s In a Name? While I like my name, suffice it to say that it doesn’t necessarily “roll off

the tongue” in this country. Most “Americans” upon hearing or seeing my name will likely have an immediate impression that I am either a

foreigner and/or have an accent. The truth of the matter is that I am neither a foreigner nor do I have an accent, but when I first started working, the first question people would ask is “Where are you from?” It

didn’t surprise me as most people I encountered probably had no idea

where my name comes from. While they may have been very familiar with Spanish, French, or Italian names, Arab names were still quite the

novelty at that time.

For the first few years this was merely an annoyance for me but I was able

to deal with it. I did have the sense that some of my coworkers were “uncomfortable knowing that I was an Arab who talked exactly like them

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Take Me Out to The Ball Game with no accent and who also did not look like a typical Arab. It took awhile but I think I was able to win most of them over. My name didn’t really become a problem until the attacks of September 11th occurred.

Although spelled slightly differently, one of the terrorists had my name and it was displayed on every major news outlet during the subsequent days. No one said anything to me directly, but as we all witnessed that

event televised in an atrium in the corporate headquarters, I felt a few stares. Perhaps it was my own paranoia, but I had a very uneasy feeling

and my mind was rattling with what to do, if anything. Perhaps taking

the easy way out, I decided to leave the company and look for another

job. I had a good resume, had built up a good skill set and was involved in a number of significant initiatives that made me think finding a position

would not be hard at all. I had even completed a Master’s degree at that time. Unfortunately however, I wasn’t getting any calls for interviews and

was very surprised. One day, as I was lamenting to a few friends, one of them suggested that I put “American born and fluent English” at the top of my resume. It sounded ridiculous at first but I started to see the point.

My other friend dismissed that idea and suggested I only put my first ini­ tial and use my son’s name (he has a name that’s common in both the Arab and Western world) after that, then my last name.

We jokingly justified this since in the Arab world, it’s common for a father to be called Abu “so and so” (followed by his eldest son’s name) so I would

simply be dropping the “Abu”. Out of mere desperation to leave and find another position, I changed the name on my resume to reflect that. Within a matter of two days, the phone was ringing and the email

requests for interviews started coming in. I was absolutely dumbfounded and sad at the same time that it had come to this. Now I had another

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dilemma, what do I tell the interviewers my name is? I wasn’t willing to change my name legally but what could I do now? Lie and tell everyone

that it’s my nickname? The first interview I had with this “new” name I actually introduced myself with my original name. The interviewer

looked confused, and rightly so. I never got that job — how could they hire someone who doesn’t even know his own name!

I eventually landed a position and the story has been that while my legal

name is known, I go by an alternate name — a more common name. Is this wrong from an Islamic perspective? I have heard both arguments, but I don’t feel like I am being dishonest. People know what my real name is; they just call me something else. While I wish I didn’t have to resort to

this, I felt like I had no choice early on and once I started going with this

moniker, it was difficult to change after the fact. For many, this issue doesn’t apply at all and for others it may appear that I am ashamed.

I won’t argue the point either way as my intent is to merely chronicle a very personal issue that I deal with. Fortunately my name is not Osama! Interaction with the opposite gender

There are so many business interactions with the opposite gender in

corporate America that as a Muslim I think it is perhaps one of the most vexing issues I have to deal with. I must admit that shaking hands is no

longer an issue for me. My own view, granted others will vehemently disagree, is that it is not only disrespectful but in no way shows the core

of the Islamic tradition to non-Muslims. I didn’t always have this view, especially early on in my career. In my first job, I hesitated when a female

extended her hand and it was immediately noticed as she sarcastically commented: “I don’t have the cooties”. I honestly didn’t know how to

respond. Was I supposed to say it’s against my religion to shake someone’s hand? I was worried she’d ask “what kind of a religion is that?” It was a

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very awkward moment and after a brief chuckle I said “No, I have the cooties and just don’t want to infect you”. I went home that day realiz­ ing that I’m going to have to deal with this often. I had no idea what my

response would be. Some of these women were twice my age! Do I shake some hands and not others? If I go on an interview and the interviewer

is a woman do I not shake her hand when extended? Whenm I interview a female do I not shake her hand? When I meet a female executive do I

not shake? I have faced every single one of these scenarios in my career.

Along with the hand shaking, being in a closed-room business meeting with a female is yet another issue I face. My manager is a woman and I

often have meetings with her where she closes the door. This is not

uncommon in business. Do I tell her you need to open the door? Why? What would my reasoning be? I currently manage a few female employ­

ees where because of the nature of the business conversation, I have to close the door. The discussion could be about their performance, their

pay, etc. These aren’t open door conversations. It’s a constant struggle for

me as the discussions are mostly business, but I must admit at times they

may begin to discuss non-business items — their families, their hobbies, their vacations, etc. Am I not to engage and share when directly asked?

Do I say hold on a second, let me open the door and then I will tell you where I’m going on vacation next week?

For awhile I was running a team where my entire staff was female. It was a small team of seven individuals, but it was obviously awkward for me.

I inherited the team from someone else so I didn’t hire them. It was a good group, each employee brought a different personality of course and

overall there were no issues, at least for a non Muslim. However, when it came time for ‘team building activities,’ that’s when the internal dilemma

began. Having lunch with your staff is normal, but what about when

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they are all from the opposite gender? I tried to resist having lunch with

only one of them, but at times it was unavoidable. Again, I was not sure what reason I could offer for not having lunch with one of the team members. I would often say that I had no time for lunch and then the

suggestion for grabbing coffee would follow.

Holidays I dread the American holiday season with a passion. I would love to simply go away for that entire period and not have to deal with all of the

office Christmas activities. The holiday parties are many and I sit there

often pretending like I’m having a good time when I am counting the minutes to leave. It’s uncomfortable and certainly nothing I can relate to

as a Muslim. As a manager of staff, I’m not only expected to be there, but

there is also a silent expectation that I’m supposed to be festive. At the last

holiday party, the managers were all asked to wear Santa hats as they gave a two minute speech about the accomplishments of their teams. I tried to get out of it - saying I can’t wear a hat because it would mess up

my hair. Then, I explained to my coworker that I don’t celebrate

Christmas, to which his response was “So? It’s just a hat”. Again, I had

trouble responding. It is just a hat, isn't it? I thought. Why not wear it? Is it haram (religiously prohibited)?

I didn’t know what to do, but since I realized that not wearing the hat might have created greater issues of nonconformity, I decided to wear it.

I felt ridiculous and at the same time weak. I wish I had the courage to say I’m not wearing that hat and I’ll just deal with whatever direct or

indirect consequences result. Unfortunately I didn’t.

Everyone at work knows I’m a Muslim and I keep convincing myself that in order to show Islam in the best light, I need to show that our religion

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is not as you see on CNN - we are not the Taliban. We can interact and assimilate into our host culture, but there are guard rails that we will never

hit. This view simply helps me cope, at least until the next holiday event.

I just hope I’m not asked to wear a Santa suit next time — perhaps that’s

where I will draw the line! Travel

I used to work for a consulting company a few years back where I was lit­

erally traveling every week. It was a grueling job, but exciting at the same time since there were often new assignments. As a Muslim traveling with others, the problems are almost increased exponentially. Not only are you

dealing with your coworkers, from both genders, in the office setting, but now you are traveling with them on a plane, staying in the same hotel,

and essentially having breakfast, lunch, and dinner together.

The first signs of trouble began when I found myself sitting next to a female coworker on a plane for a five hour flight. I sat motionless the entire time! Once that was done, we had to share a cab together, and then share a rental car. Was I supposed to request a different seat? The flight

was booked by the assistant so I didn’t have control over that. Plus, would it have been okay to sit next to another woman, as long as she wasn’t my coworker? Was I supposed to tell her to take a different cab and that we

would rent two cars? These were company expenses. What would be my

justification? When traveling with only one other female coworker, I often didn’t go to dinner saying I had a lot of work to do or that I wasn’t hungry, but it was

a very stressful time for me, especially as she was higher in level than me. I didn’t report to her, but my performance review on this particular

project would have input from her. This obviously made matters much

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worse. It was perfectly normal and professional on a business level, but as a Muslim the scenario was fundamentally different.

When traveling with a larger group of coworkers, the situation is much easier than the one just related, but it is still uncomfortable nonetheless. The main issue for me has been the dinners and the drinking. In cases

where I am not the “senior” person, it is hard to decline a dinner

invitation. When asked for drinks, I obviously don’t order any and am comfortable saying its against my religion and that I don’t drink. The

problem is sitting around the same table when most others are drinking.

Again, not being the senior person I don’t know what to say. Do I leave? And what would my reason be? I can’t: be around you while you drink?

They aren’t alcoholics and the conversations are always business-related, so how insulting would that be to them? Often when it’s the final dinner before the end of the trip, the coworkers are expected to raise their

glasses, me with my diet coke and the rest with their wine glasses. Again

do I not participate? It’s just knocking glasses isn’t it? What’s the harm? In cases where I am the senior person, I am comfortable saying no to drinking. However, once an issue arose where one of the team members

ordered a pork meal. I had an issue because I was the one paying. I’ve heard before that Muslims should not be sitting on a table where alcohol

or pork is being consumed. Do I say “Don’t order that because I don’t eat

it”? Another member ordered ‘beer battered shrimp.’ Is that considered

alcohol? Another ordered chicken with white wine sauce. Again I found

myself facing the same problem. What do I say? What do I do in this case? I may be over-thinking these things but the fact of the matter is that it does cross my mind during the event. This would never be the case if I

was sitting around a table with fellow Muslims.

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Prayer I’m at a stage now where I pray without issue, although that hasn’t always

been the case. I have had to pray in stairwells and closets when I could­

n’t find available private space. I think I make proper wuduu (ablution), but I don’t come out of the bathroom looking like I just got out of the

shower. One time, someone walked in and saw me washing my face,

arms, and wiping my shoes and looked at me very oddly. He asked if I

was taking a shower. To make things even more awkward I couldn’t respond until I was finished because I was always taught not to speak during wuduu. So once I finished, and I must admit I rushed to finish, I

simply said “No, I’m just washing my face.” This was someone I didn’t know very well, but unfortunately he was a senior level manager. It would

have seemed to be an odd point of entry to discuss with him wuduu when

he barely knew who I was, let alone that I was a Muslim. Usually I’m able to find a spot to pray but at times cannot perform the

sunnah (supplemental) prayers, given the time. The Friday prayer is another matter altogether. For the most part I attend, but I must shamefully admit

that I do miss it at times. Where I work now, the mosque is not around the

corner and the drive to and from takes over forty-five minutes. Blocking two hours every Friday for a personal matter is not easy for me. I made it clear

with my manager that this is an obligation that I cannot miss but there have been instances where a major meeting was set up with high level managers

and I must give a presentation during the time of the Friday prayer. I always

try to make an attempt to change the meeting, but when it can’t be changed

I run into a real issue. During dreaded holiday parties, this is also an issue as these parties are often held on Friday during prayer time. Perhaps it’s a lack of courage, a lack of iman (faith), and a lack of self confidence that makes

it a problem for me to even consider leaving this company and looking elsewhere. I am sure that this wouldn’t be the case though if I worked in a predominately Muslim country.

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Other

There are other situations that I run into as a Muslim working in corpo­

rate America. This isn’t necessarily an exhaustive list but there are some notable scenarios that come to mind. I went to Hajj a couple of years ago

and was questioned while there as to why I wouldn’t shave my head. Honestly I would have liked to, but I was concerned about what that

would look like when I came back. My job involves interaction with a lot of people. I don’t sit in a quiet room or work from home without inter­

acting with anyone. I manage a team and often give presentations to senior management. That’s what was going through my mind at the

barber shop in Mecca. I wound up not shaving my head, but the internal struggle for me is whether I made that decision for the right reason. I had informed my manager that I would be out for a religious event. Most

educated people know about Hajj (ritualistic pilgrimage). But coming

back bald would have raised a series of questions and probably taken away

from the real reason for Hajj in my opinion. It’s not often that you see

someone with a full head of hair (alhamdulilah') come back a few days later completely bald!

Another issue I encounter is that my wife wears hijab (Muslim womans

covering) and I don’t feel comfortable putting her picture on my desk.

Many people have pictures of their entire family in their office. I only have pictures of my kids. I was asked frequently why I don’t have her pic­ ture. I often used to say she doesn’t like her picture displayed. I stopped

saying that because I didn’t want to lie. Now I just ignore the comment

all together. I fear that some may feel that this is typical of Muslim men oppressing women. I’m sure that’s an exaggeration, but I’m struggling

with a good reason of why I don’t want her picture displayed for all to see.

It’s not that I’m ashamed that she wears hijab. My wife has accompanied

me on a few formal dinner events sponsored at the office, so that’s not the

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issue. Admittedly years ago I used to be nervous about that, but not

anymore. But I am still not comfortable displaying her picture. Do I just tell people that I don’t want them to see her? What good reason would I

have for saying that in a way others could understand? Conclusion

There are many more examples and situations that I run into on a week­

ly basis as a Muslim in corporate America. Perhaps it would be easy to go to a Muslim country or become an entrepreneur so I wouldn’t have to

deal with these issues at all. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy for me to do

that, so I have to deal with it. From the interactions with the opposite gender, the 65 year old retiring secretary who gives you a big hug at her farewell party, the holiday season activities, the various “mandatory”

meals and events, the mouthwash needed during Ramadan, to the dozens of other awkward moments that Muslims face in the office, it is a

constant struggle to say the least.

Perhaps there are ways to avoid all of these issues, but I maintain that

it is nearly impossible to avoid most of these concerns when you are looking to progress and advance in your career. These have been my own

experiences, and I suspect that many will fundamentally disagree with how I handled each of these situations. I welcome that, but I would hope that viable alternatives are offered up — advice that is grounded in practical application. This is what is needed to help other Muslims enter­ ing the workforce in America and those trying to advance along the way.

Short of that, we will be at a standstill which creates even bigger issues for

future generations.

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Commentary Reserve, Dietary Restrictions, & Lack of Involvement in Company Excursions and Outings he Messenger Muhammad (pbuh) said, “There will come a day when people who want to stick to their Deen will feel they have

fire in their hands.” Understanding and accepting that Muslims will face hardship in implementing Islam in a non-Muslim country may

make individuals justify certain compromises rather than working towards making Islam practical in all areas of their lives. Many of the matters brought up in this chapter appear to be religion­ based dilemmas. However, the issues have more to do with confidence

than anything else. From the inability of an employee to resist a work­ place temptress to his inability to vocalize feelings of discomfort around alcohol; the issues are psychological. Why is it that people can more eas­ ily announce themselves as vegetarians or even vegans, than to say that they are Muslims who are quite specific about what they consume and

what they are comfortable being around?

To answer this question, one must understand the psychological implica­ tions. There is one main factor that moves people to live by their own

rules fearlessly among people who are foreign to their culture. It is love. Love in fact is based on belief. You cannot love something that you don’t

believe exists. We often fail to make the connection between love and

belief because we here on Earth love things that we can see, hear, or touch. Thus, there is no question about believing in them. But spiritual matters

are different. It is very hard to remember something you cannot see: out of sight, out of mind. And when we forget about Allah (SWT), it

28

Take Me Out to The Ball Game

becomes impossible to love Him. And when the love is not there, the

power to speak up is not there either.

The solution is to work backwards from the above sequence; to eliminate as many distractions as possible, so that we can contemplate the unseen

Divine. Being distracted results in the accumulation of rust upon the heart. This rust serves as a breeding ground for many diseases, foremost being weakness of faith. Weak faith must be viewed like anemia or

malnutrition, i.e. it is brought on by our own inaction and can hence be

changed. Next, one must love Allah, the source of the laws and mores that are dis­ cussed above. How do we love Him? Well, how do we love anything?

How do we fall in love with a person? By being exposed to that person,

by seeing him or her often, by avoiding what bothers the individual, and by doing what that person likes. It should be no different with our

love for Allah (SWT). Our love grows the more we remember Him. Consistent and intense sessions of dhikr (remembrance) cause this love

to grow. And once that love is there, our view of things will change. It will be very easy to verbalize the words that are pleasing to Him, and to

simply say ‘no thanks’ with a smile.

-S. E.

29

Chapter 3

What’s that on Your Head? [Dramatized Narrative]

A si bend down to make my sujood (prayer prostration) behind the 2LA closed door of the abandoned lab room, I glance furtively out

JLthe glass panes expecting someone to walk in at any minute. Does my salah (prayer) even count at this point? My mind is more on the

anticipated moment of embarrassing unease that I am sure will occur if one of my coworkers walks into the room. My loosely tied scarf slips back a quarter of an inch. The scarf is a new

accessory to my lab-wear ensemble. I recently made the decision to wear hijab (Muslim womans modest attire) and the past week at work had been less than ideal. I still wasn’t sure which was worse, the silent stares

that I caught sometimes across the room or the awkwardly phrased

questions that seemed to stumble off the tongues of my coworkers. I

could sense the hesitation as people mentally questioned whether or not they could legally ask me about my head covering. I considered hanging

a big sign with FAQ’s written on it right around my neck so that everyone could get the answers they sought without the uncomfortable

pauses. As I finish my prayers, a little too quickly, and slip back into my shoes, I

see my supervisor heading towards the lab. Oh no! An explanation as to

why I am in here is definitely going to be needed. What can I say? I know this is a restricted lab area and I’m not even sure if I have clearance to be amid all these classified chemicals. But what was I supposed to do? I

needed a place to pray and this seemed like an ideal spot.

30

What’s That on Your Head ?

“Haniya, I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing in here?” There it was—the elephant in the room. The question was asked and I had two ways to go with this one. I could either come up with some elaborate

story as to how I’d accidentally stumbled into the wrong room, or I could

stick to the truth and let my supervisor know I needed a place to pray. After a few seconds of deliberation, I decided to go with the latter.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nolten. I just needed to take a few minutes to pray, so I

thought this empty room would be a good spot,” I giggled nervously as I

answered. My stomach fell as I watched Dr. Nolten’s expression change from initial concern to what seemed to be barely concealed anger. “Come to my office at 3:00 pm today. We need to talk.” Dr. Nolten’s

disapproving look made my skin crawl with fear. With one: quick glance around the room, she shook her head, abruptly turned on 1her heels and

left. I looked down at my watch and silently moaned. It was barely noon now,

which meant I still had three hours to get through before the dreaded meeting. As a recent Biomedical Engineering graduate, I had struggled

to find work in this lab. I was lucky to have landed a position that I knew

many of my fellow graduating classmates had also applied for. I’d been working for almost a year now and had finally felt comfortable enough to begin wearing hijab. But, now it looked like either the hijab or my

praying in the restricted area was going to be an issue. As I trudged back to my desk, I ignored the usual glances thrown in my direction. I didn’t feel like offering explanations or apologies today. I just

31

9 to 5: Muslims

in the

Western Workplace

wanted to be left alone. I began the usual self-doubting routine that had

plagued me over the past few years as I wavered between whether or not I was ready to wear hijab. Maybe now wasn’t die best: dme. Maybe I should

have waited until I was more established at work. Maybe I should have waited until I was married.

I mentally rebuked myself for doubting the journey I had already embarked upon. I knew my rights. I couldn’t be fired just because of how

I dressed. Or could I? At this point, I had no idea what was or wasn’t

allowed from a legal standpoint. Bismillah, a silent prayer for peace and patience formed in my mind. I

shook the doubts from my head and tried to concentrate on my lab work for the next few hours. The monotony of pouring liquids and chemical samples into test tubes didn’t really help keep my mind off of the upcom­ ing meeting. I tried to review all my work interactions over the past week

to see if there might have been any other reason for this suddenly sched­ uled “meeting.”

The week had begun just like any other week,

The excitement of

working in the biomedical field had waned early on as my four years of

hard-core science education had been whittled down to menial mixing

tasks. I really had no right to complain though. I had been fortunate enough to land this job after a great interview experience during a time

when many were struggling to find any kind of work at all. Within the first few weeks, however, I was shocked by how different the work turned out to be from the job description. I’d been told by cowork­

ers that this was just the beginning and it would take time to work my

way up the ladder, but I was feeling a bit more than just a little impatient

to hurry up and take the next step. Maybe Dr. Nolten had recognized my 32

What’s That on Your Head ?

hard work and was ready to bump me up to the next level? As nice as the

salary increase would be, the real bonus in a promotion would be in the challenge and the subsequent feeling of accomplishment. I’d already

learned the hard way that these happen to be two elusive ideals that are

hard to come by in any field of work.

I started imagining the conversation I would have with Dr. Nolten as she commended me on my hard work and offered me the promotion. Then, mid-fantasy, I thought back to the unhappy expression on my supervisors face as she told me to meet her. My cheerful thoughts burst like an over­

blown bubble and I went back to reviewing what had happened at the

beginning of the week. Of course, there was the elevator incident. It was early morning, several

days ago, and the elevator was slowly climbing up at a snail’s pace, stopping at every floor in an agonizing ascent. On the cafeteria level, Dr. Nolten stepped in with a colleague. It seemed that the tall,

silver-haired woman barely noticed me standing in the corner. With her impressive height she towered over the man beside her who was chatting

amicably about the weather. I leaned further into the corner wishing

I could disappear without being noticed. It was the first time I was running into Dr. Nolten with my hijab on and I wasn’t sure that I was ready to offer explanations in the restricted confines of the cramped elevator.

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief as the elevator reached our floor without incident. I figured I would hang back until they made their exit

and then I would make a quick escape. But that didn’t happen as planned,

of course. Just as the long-anticipated “ding” of the elevator sounded,

the man abruptly turned to me and said “Well, hello there. This your stop too?”

33

9 to 5: Muslims

in the

Western Workplace

Surprised by the sudden unwanted attention, I stuttered and stumbled

over my words. Dr. Noltens cold eyes flickered towards me in a moment of recognition.

“A simple ‘Good Morning wouldn’t cost you anything.” Her steely words cut through me as I prayed for a cloak of invisibility to suddenly descend from the heavens. No such cloak appeared of course. Before I could even

respond, Dr. Nolten had stepped out of the elevator and was marching

briskly to her office. Was it just me or did that woman really not like me? Could it have been

the hijab that caused her rude reaction? She had never been particularly nice to me, but the elevator incident seemed downright offensive. Or was

I reading more into it? The scenarios continued to play through my mind as I came up with reason after reason as to why I might be summoned into the supervisors

office. Needless to say, I got no work done. Finally, the clock struck three.

I summoned my courage, gave a quick mental prayer and headed towards my supervisors office door. The hallway stretched before me, each foot­

step bringing me closer to confrontation. Two more steps and I would be there. Through the clear panes of the door I could see the HR manager

seated next to Dr. Nolten. There was nothing left to do now but to move

forward. Deep breath, hand poised mid-air, slight knock. Come in.

Bismillah... here we go.

34

What’s That on Your Head ?

IT Professional

[Authentic Account] -N. H.

V

7" Tearing hijab (modest Muslim womans attire) at work is a / hot-button topic that inspires many employment-related

▼ V

stories. My story began with my experience in a call center

that I worked at for over three years. I provided tech support at the cen­ ter and never really had any face-to-face contact with the customers.

When I was hired, I didn’t even have an in-person interview; the HR rep recruiter assessed my resume and found that I was skilled for the position. A phone interview was conducted and I was asked to complete a few tests.

I was promptly hired and began working. I didn’t think hijab was going

to be a big deal since I wear my hijab everyday. Initially, some of the managers gave me strange looks since I was the only Muslim woman in the company wearing hijab. When I first began work,

I informed my manager that I would need a prayer room, since my work schedule included late hours and I would have to pray asr (afternoon prayer) and sometimes maghrib (evening prayer) at work. He provided one of the conference rooms and said it wasn’t a problem at all. However, when other employees saw me taking extra "prayer” breaks, they com­

plained and said that it was unfair that I was given special treatment, even

though many others took frequent smoking breaks. However, this really didn’t stop or deter me from praying at work; it just made me realize how many people are slackers and will find anything to

complain about regardless of the situation. Besides the occasional grum­ bling from coworkers, everything was moving smoothly for the first two

and a half years that I worked there. Nothing was overtly said about my

35

9 to 5: Muslims

in the

Western Workplace

hijab except the compliments I received about how well I coordinated my

clothes. Many of my coworkers actually liked how I wore the hijab and expressed how they thought it looked beautiful on me. Some coworkers

asked me what the different colors meant, which I thought was rather

funny. I recall that one coworker even asked "Does white mean you are single and colors mean you are engaged or married?" I laughed and

explained that the only meaning the colors had was that they matched my outfit. There really was no mystery there.

Two and a half comfortable years went by while I was working for this company. The job itself was both easy and fun at times, but the hours

were becoming unbearable. Lots of overtime was mandated and a very strict attendance policy left many employees feeling frustrated and reluc­ tant to come into work. Even I was trying to get creative with new ways

to call in sick sometimes. The performance of our call center was always being compared to others and occasionally the supervising managers would stop by to visit and try to shake things up. So for a long time we maintained a very casual atmosphere, we all wore

what we wanted and kept our personal space decorated in any way we liked. This included keeping toys, games, laptops and all sorts of knick-

knacks on our desks, and even eating lunch at our desks instead of in the break rooms. After years of having a very laid-back atmosphere, the super­

vising managers decided to implement a stricter policy. Although we were

still exceeding most of the other centers in performance, they still insist­

ed on implementing changes. One of the most extreme changes they decided to enforce was a dress code. This dress code stated that all

employees were required to wear professional attire at all times; no jeans, sneakers, hats, or any type of casual clothes. Needless to say, everyone who

enjoyed the previously relaxed work atmosphere became angered by this

36

What’s That on Your Head ?

new policy. Even I had gotten quite used to running late and wearing jeans and a sweater if I needed to. A few days after this new dress code was enforced, my direct manager

called me into her office and said, "We need you to fill out this paperwork for your headgear." I was shocked by her callous attitude. After all, she could obviously see that I wasn’t wearing a helmet; I was wearing a

scarf. Surprised by her attitude, I read the paperwork she handed me.

Essentially, I was being asked to fill out a permission slip allowing me to continue to wear my hijab at work. I told my manager that I refused to fill it out. I had been hired while wearing hijab and had worked for almost three years dressed in this same modest style. I felt that my rights were

being violated because I had to fill out a form with a check box essential­ ly allowing the company to approve or disapprove my religious beliefs.

Other employees were not being asked to seek approval for the way they wore their hair or for the number of visible piercings and tattoos they had on their bodies, so why would I be required to request permission to con­

tinue wearing religious garb that did not conflict with the “professional

look” the company was going for. Needless to say my manager was less than pleased. She said she could not make me fill the form, but the company could “force her hand" if I did­ n’t comply and there could be problems. Riled up at that point, I told her

I was willing to face the consequences and that she could fire me if she wanted to but that I still would not compromise my principles. Almost a week went by and then I was called into the HR office to dis­

cuss the reasons for not filling out the form. The HR rep who had known me well for the last three years asked the most unintelligent questions in

the world. "So you are saying you are wearing this because you’re

37

9 to 5: Muslims

in the

Western Workplace

Muslim?" I answered her questions as tersely as possible but began to get annoyed because she was questioning me like we had never met before.

The HR rep kept asking me if I would reconsider filling out the form. I

refused and stood my ground simply on the matter of principle. After I left her office, I made an appointment with my union steward and filed a complaint against the company. The complaint went to the EEOC

and the next thing I knew, someone was contacting me about wearing

hijab and feeling discriminated in the workplace. In the end, I never filled out the form, nor do I still work with the company. After that whole fiasco, I resigned about two months later. I am very happy that I am no

longer working for them. I now work for myself and love it.

38

What’s That on Your Head ?

Educator

[Authentic Account] -A. K.

f~T"lhe 9/11 attacks on New York’s Twin Towers did not provide a I

favorable backdrop for fashioning an open dialogue towards the

-JL.

understanding of cultural and religious nuances in any work­

place in the country and particularly not in an undersized, pastoral school

district. Without knowing my culture or religion, this pastoral district had

requested an interview with me to coordinate special education services for their student body members with special needs. It was obvious to me that the interviewers were somewhat shaken when I entered the room. It was somewhat obvious that they had hoped for someone with my creden­

tials and experience, but without the blatant stigmas of 9/11, in the form of the hijab I wore. Honestly, I had not given their workplace dress

policy any thought prior to the interview. The two piece light-weight ankle length skirt with a below-the-hips length jacket would be consid­

ered professional dress attire for any interview. The only added difference

was the color-coordinated ivy hijab wound upon my head. During the interview, the director mentioned that many of her staff

members had attended the districts elementary school, and in several cases, both their parents and their grandparents had attended the school,

years ago. I swallowed. Somehow the central dialogue was more on the

socialization and orientation of the staff and students instead of on my

skills and professional merits.

I remember that as I sat by a window in the office, waiting to be received

39

9 to 5: Muslims in the Western Workplace

by the director for the interview, I noticed there was something very dis­

tinct about this well-established school. The school had an old-fashioned tone reminiscent of its long history. There were coat racks and lunch pails in the hallways outside of the classroom and staff could send a child to

the office and the student would actually go without an escort. I smiled at the pleasure a student received from playing tetherball outside while

another child’s skinned knees were actually being tended to. As quaint as all of these antiquities seemed to be, I also noticed something

a little disconcerting regarding the apparent dress code, particularly of the

women. It seemed that the dress style was at odds with the apparent oldfashioned atmosphere. A more Western style of clothes seemed to be the

norm with skinny jeans tucked into cowboy boots and several staff driv­ ing two-ton pickup trucks with gun racks that seemed often used. I tried

to quiet my qualms as negative images of what they might be hunting for

flitted through my mind. While my heart was warmed by the old school customs, something res­

onated within me that there might possibly be trouble here for a practicing Muslim in our post 9/11 world.

Walking me back through the office after the interview, the director com­

mented on my outfit by questioning whether or not I dressed in this man­

ner on a regular basis. I nodded and continued to explain that this partic­ ular two-piece suit was a professional outfit that I usually reserved for

interviews. I showed her the intricate craftsmanship on my MiddleEastern made suit and explained how much richness different customs can add to a learning environment. She nodded in agreement. I felt con­

fident enough in my skills that I did not need to be apologetic or com­

promising in explaining the way I dress. That night, not one of the

40

What’s That on Your Head ?

administrative staff bid me good night. This was a further reflection of

this school’s tightly knit body’s resistance to newcomers. After the interview, I began to question my own values such as how much

was I willing to give up to work here and for what reason? The director told me she would call me the next day with the school’s decision after speaking with the board members that night. I was confident that I had

presented myself well and the rest was in Allah's (SWT) hands. I had more

than an adequate knowledge base in this field and years of experience working with special needs high school students. Moreover, I had just

posted my availability on an employment site for educators, and was receiving many calls for interview. Perhaps most importantly, I had

prayed for employment that would be challenging, but fun. Little did I know, this could be it!

The director called me early the following morning, letting me know that

the majority of the interviewers and the board members were in agree­

ment with her that some diversity in the school would be beneficial to all. She also quietly confessed that they invited me to the interview table

because they were impressed with my resume but frankly had no idea

what type of person I would be. In the end, they were willing to bring me on board and were very happy that I was still available While the interviewers claimed ‘open mindedness’, I knew there would be

plenty of staff members who did not agree with the directors perception of the school’s need for greater diversity.

Moreover, many of the staff

members were relatives from this tight-knit rural community. The staff,

as well as the student body, mainly descended from European Christian ancestry with very homogenized cultural patterns. With the already cold

shoulders from the administrative area, I began to think about how my

41

9 to 5: Muslims

in the

Western Workplace

diversity, my belief system along with their current image of Islam would

impact me. Perhaps, some individuals really believed that I was capable of hiding explosives beneath my hijab.

That feeling of rejection was verified on my first official day of work,

when the director accompanied me to several of the rooms for an intro­ duction to the staff. Many of them conferred upon me the ‘cold shoulder’

while they acted too engaged with instruction to recognize me. It was as

if they had planned this total disregard toward me with the hopes that I would go ‘back’ to wherever I came from. I wouldn’t doubt that some thought that I might, in some way, be connected to the 9/11 massacre.

The students, by in large, looked upon me unresponsively except for one

student who spoke to me, as she inspected my attire while we stood in the

back of the room. In another classroom, we found ourselves awaiting an audience with a teacher who never came forward. The rattled director covered for the instructor with a ‘we’ll come back later’ statement.

During the tour, I was dressed with matching hijab, less formal than on my interview day. Though ready to go to work, I still wanted to present

myself in a professional way to my new colleagues. Though the tone of Western dress appeared to be very relaxed, the school atmosphere seemed

to embody a very pent-up attitude and belief system. By accepting this position, I knew that opening up closed minds would be my challenge. There were a few staff members who were so intimidated by my presence at ‘their’ school that it took a few years before they even acknowledged my existence there. This particular period was a very turbulent and disorient­ ing time for me. Not only did I struggle with some of the culturally prej­

udiced staff, but even one of the parents ‘weighed in,’ and removed her

son from my educational services because of my religious diversity. This came as a very personal blow that only time would be able to heal, though

the director duly attempted to intervene. 42

What’s That on Your Head ?

I clearly understood that my hijab was my most single visible Muslim

‘give-away’ and dawah (religious propagation) feature. Therefore, it would unequivocally have to become the symbol of my commitment to the high

standards of the work place and to the sunnah (practice) of Islam. Moving forward, my goal would be to strike a balance between my reli­ gious integrity and my workplace ethics. I was confident that they could

graciously and seamlessly co-exist.

I ‘rocked’ bright, vivid hijabs consisting of both solids as well as a riot of colors underscored by an exciting variety of scarf styles. Through the

hijab, my hope was that I would weave creativity, culture and profession­ alism tightly enough to breathe a new apparel pizzazz into the work place.

I recognized the flexibility of hijab and wanted to convey that to others

by wearing varying western styles to demonstrate how the scarf could flatter Western attire as well. Moreover, I wanted to show how the hijab inherently advances a transcending experience of inner beauty. In addition, this cultural intermingling showcased the yielding of the Islamic

lifestyle. Interestingly enough, many of the male staff members warmed up first

and recognized the brilliance of my hijab, sooner than the females. I accepted their acknowledgment with a lowered gaze and further explana­

tion of the modest functions of hijab in both action and dress. There were many magic moments, when cultural understanding and acceptance was reached.

While the women slowly recognized me on a professional level, they were still very reluctant to discuss my religious identity. I saw their reluctance

as an opportunity to open up new avenues of discussion and to help us

all embrace a more global work environment. I couched’ in on conversa-

43

9 to 5: Muslims

in the Western

Workplace

tions surrounding my hijab, my dress and my way of life, in a very light

hearted, non-menacing manner. I wanted them to be comfortable and

assured that I was neither threatened by my deen (religion) nor their deen, here in our work place. The majority of my coworkers eventually exhib­ ited a willingness to learn and accept our cultural differences.

A few women went as far as to say, “I wish I could wrap my hair like that.”

I guaranteed them that they could and offered to bring a scarf to work to demonstrate how the scarves can be wrapped. One of the teachers later brought her own scarf and occasionally wore it in a similar style to my

hijab. For another interested teacher, I purchased a lounging dress with a matching scarf since she had expressed interest in Islam and in covering. It was the growing number of diverse students who joined the student

body who became inquisitive about the mystique of my dress attire, specifically the ‘headpiece’. They began with casual, off -handed ques­

tions, as they tried to match-up my responses with their information and their life experiences. They wanted to know if my hijab was hot in

the summer or if it was cold in the winter. They asked whether I wore it

at home and why I chose to wear it at all. They had good, solid, heart-felt questions. Many had never seen or been this intimate with a person with

a hijab on. The exchange with the students was beneficial and provided

some of them with an opportunity to share what they knew about several well-known Muslims. The most rewarding of all my ‘deen-tight’ days was when one of the

senior boys approached me and said that he wished that all of the females

would dress like me. Of course, I never shared the students sentiments with the staff. His appreciation for Islam was very heart-warming. Over

the next few months, other male staff members divulged some of the

44

What’s That on Your Head ?

same type of feelings. As time passed, teachers— particularly the history teachers and the cultural geography teachers— realized my value as a class­ room resource. I was invited into various classes to give presentations

about Islam and was called upon to share both my conversion experience as well as my practice of the tenets of Islam.

Gradually, staff members began to feel more comfortable with me on

their team. Certainly the live presentations from someone who they see regularly, but know little about, intrigued the students and prompted

additional questions. They had a strong interest in the superstar sports

and artistic celebrities who embraced Islam. Many of the girls wanted to

focus on the hijab as an alternative hair style and an option for ‘bad hair’ days. I was delighted that they were ‘thinking’. My message to them was

that in no way was I being held hostage by my hijab, a popular myth. The hijab was my chosen ‘identity’ and defined my persona.

Though a few staff members still choose to remain closed when it comes

to culture and diversity, more of the staff along with the youth believe my presence at the school and my classroom instruction are extremely valu­ able components in creating cultural tolerance and religious open-mind­

edness towards more effective interaction in the work place.

This experience has taught me that Muslims must plot a course toward balancing religious integrity with global work ethic by fusing the princi­ ples of Islam, a universal lifestyle, with worldwide work conventions to

target human tendencies and cultural differences. It is through this inclu­ sion that a balance is struck to facilitate the respect for diverse culture contributions and proclivities while preserving the global work forces. To fit into the universal tapestry of occupation and employment as a

Muslim, we must understand the duties and demonstrate a relative

45

9 to 5: Muslims

in the

Western Workplace

respect and regard for the values and benefits of the hire. Further our

character should be one of humility and endurance vs. fanaticism, even in the face of opposition which will result, many times, due to the misper­

ceptions falsely attached to the deen. My work experience has taught me that if a misperception requires man­ aging, it is best treated in a face-to-face observational manner. Being a

Muslim at work insinuates that we have taken the responsibility to be respectful of the people and the culture we are working with and to be familiar with the letter and the spirit of the Qur’an (Muslim Holy Book) as well as the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). These divine

sources are here to provide us with the vitality and the reassurance that we need to understand that we get that which we strive for’ and when a Muslim strives to do a job, it is done with excellence.’ If we as Muslims can adhere to these truths in the workplace, the balance of religious

integrity and global work ethic can peacefully be achieved. Hence, the historical contributions attained by the Muslims can, again, be realized and arrive at global prominence.

46

What’s That on Your Head ?

Commentary Navigating Company Dress Policy and Professional Attire in the Formal Workplace

A I

4he previous passages express common emotions that many pro-

I

fessional Muslims feel, namely the fear of being rejected and the

JL

frustration that our religion is misunderstood. Rejection is the

feeling that many sisters in hijab often feel in the work place. Whispers—

real and imagined—may echo through the halls and through a sister’s

mind: she can never truly be one of us.’ She may feel that she will never really be accepted. But why would a Muslim want to be accepted in a

non-Muslim work atmosphere? Is it a craving that might harm our spir­

ituality in the long run?

Many people might be reluctant to admit that they want to be accepted. It would belie their sense of self-security and their pride. Yet, the argu­

ments “I don’t care; I don’t want to be accepted; I don’t need anybody,” are often a facade covering up the fear of embarrassment or rejection in

the workplace. In fact, when we look deeper into the issue, there is noth­ ing wrong with wanting to be accepted. The questions should be with

whom, on what terms, and why. Allah (SWT) created all people from one source. And this is the root of

our discomfort at being the odd one out. Consider children. They want

to share everything; they never want to be alone. They find joy in being together. This is healthy. This is a sign that we are still close to our orig­ inal nature, our fitra (conscience).

47

9 to 5: Muslims in the Western Workplace

The desire to be accepted at work does not reflect low self-esteem or the need for others to justify our existence and make us happy. Instead this desire for acceptance is (a) the desire for people to see what we see and to

love what we love, and (b) the natural desire for human beings to want to

be together in agreement, not separated and in conflict. If we did not have these feelings, most of us would never do dawa; we would never fret about our neighbors’ or co-workers’ opinions, and thus would never dig for new ways to address them. There is nothing wrong

with this type of fretting. It indicates our desire to be understood and to be in agreement. Those who don’t care what people think— their ideas

die out, because they never bother to pass them on. We simply have to manage these feelings, just as we manage anger. These feelings of fearing rejection should simply never lead us to anything

that would go against Islam or the words of the Prophet (pbuh). Muslims need to continue carving out a space of acceptance in all areas of society

and particularly in the work place. -S. E.

48

Chapter 4

Not A Doctor, Engineer, or Lawyer [Dramatized Narrative]

I

was graduating high school in a few months and the questions from

the aunties and uncles were never-ending:

“So, what are you going to do? Go straight into the dual degree medical pro­ gram or the joint engineering and masters program? No, no, Pharmacy is the

way to go, my friend. In a few years you 7/ have your Doctorate ofPharmacy and you'll be making money hand over fist with the best job security. ”

My college applications had been sent out ages ago.

I had dutifully

mailed them to all the top programs that both my teachers and parents

recommended. The responses were slowly trickling back and it looked like I had been accepted to almost all the universities I’d applied to. After

all, my grades were pretty high and I had scored well on my exams. All the summers spent in academic camps and tutoring sessions that my par­ ents enrolled me in seemed to pay off in the end.

Despite all the colleges I had looked into and applied for, not one of them held much interest for me. My mother had high hopes that I would go to

law school, my father of course was rooting for something in the medical field. I wasn’t interested in either. In reality, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to college at all. It wasn’t that I was

lazy or that I didn’t want to work. But the work I wanted to do didn’t

necessarily need a higher degree. I had spent almost fourteen years of my

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life confined between the four walls of classroom after classroom and I couldn’t understand why I had to waste another four or five years of life sitting in classrooms again. Sure I wanted a good job and enough of an income to support myself and a family eventually, but I could do those things without a degree, right?

I knew many successful people who hadn’t gone to college. Why couldn’t I be a plumber, or an auto-mechanic, or work my way up into owning my own business? Or what about becoming a police officer? Now there was an exciting job I could live with. I didn’t need to go to a four year college for that. Going into law enforcement sounded like a respectable position with lots of great perks.

Sure, it sounded great to me, but would I ever be able to convince my par­ ents? As far back as I could remember, my parents had high hopes for me. I was always being touted as the “smart one” in the family. I was the one who could read through books in a matter of minutes and who aced all my exams. As the only son, I was expected to take care of my family when my parents grew older. Undoubtedly, they would move in with me once I had a job, a wife, and a home and it would be my responsibility to support them financially just as they’d supported me throughout my life. Did that mean I had to become a doctor, dentist, lawyer, engineer, phar­ macist or any other “acceptable” profession that my parents dreamed up for me? My two older sisters had graduated ages ago and were allowed to study whatever they wanted in college. One went to the local communi­ ty college and majored in Art History and the other went to the state uni­ versity with high hopes of completing the teaching program. My younger

sister often talked about becoming a fashion designer, but with the lack of encouragement from my parents in that area, I wasn’t quite sure that it was going to pan out for her. 50

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To be honest, I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of college. I just

couldn’t see why I had to enter college with a preconceived plan of exacdy what I was going to do with my life. Why couldn’t college be a time

to explore? The local state university offered pottery classes and creative writing—two courses I would have loved to try my hand at—literally. Why

couldn’t college be a time to figure out what I wanted to do and what I wanted to be instead of constantly being told what I had to do? Last summer, I volunteered to help promote the political campaign of

a local candidate. Sure, I did it because everyone told me it would look good on my college applications—but I also loved every minute of the

experience. After the first few weeks, I eagerly began discussing with my

father the possibility of exploring some political science courses in college. He thought I was joking and laughingly shrugged off my comments.

It was the first time though that I felt I could make a difference as a

Muslim. The other campaign workers knew I was Muslim and kept telling me how proud they were that I was interested in politics. Even the

political candidate spoke to me personally and asked me to help arrange a voter initiative at the masjid (mosque) to encourage more Muslims to register to vote. I tried to promote the voter registration drive, but

barely a handful of community people, mostly my cousins, attended and

registered to vote. Try as I might to explain the importance of politics to my parents, I still

got nowhere. I argued that we had plenty of Muslim doctors, but hardly any Muslims in politics. Did we really need one more Muslim software

engineer or yet another Muslim pharmacist? Every argument I brought up was answered with the response that I would not be able to support a

family if I did not get a “decent” job. My line of reasoning about doing

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something I really enjoyed and that made me happy was considered a

moot point.

I couldn’t understand their arguments about entering a “reputable” field of work. I had heard stories about Muslim doctors who acted less than

“respectable” with insurance fraud and Muslim lawyers who easily turned

into money-hungry mongers. Why were these positions considered the “respectable” fields that I was being pushed towards?

It shouldn’t matter whether I want to major in pottery or politics or if I want to become a police officer or a plumber, I am sure that I will work

hard and apply the same Muslim ethics as I did in my studies. There should be no shame in any kind of work I choose to do. From an Islamic

perspective, I remember reading a hadith (narration from the Prophet pbuh) that said the janitor of the masjid (mosque) often has a nobler job

than many others because of his lack of arrogance. There’s no reason then that I should worry about the social stigma attached to the path I choose

if I know in my heart that I am not doing anything religiously, morally, or ethically incorrect. Now I just have to convince my parents of that.

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Artist [Authentic Account] - B. H.

A t a certain point in my life I had come to a fork in the career road I A that lay ahead of me. One path was the heavily traveled one that JL JLwould lead to a stable career in corporate upper management. I could be comfortable, living a quaint cul-de-sac lifestyle with a white picket fence and 2.3 kids.

The other path was one almost completely devoid of Muslim footprints to follow. And that was just the reason why I felt it was important to challenge the cultural norms and establish myself as a gallery artist. For sure it was a path wrought with challenges. Not just as an individual seek­ ing to tell a story through artwork, but especially as a Muslim needing to find a healthy balance between religious adherence and an industry that many peers would easily dismiss as heresy.

Its critical to first address the “why” which seems to roll off critics’ tongues as often as bismillah. The works I create are hardly the tradition­ al regurgitation of calligraphic renderings so common in Muslim homes. Rather my content deals directly, albeit subtly, with socio-religious narra­ tives of oppression, misogyny, extremism, nationalism, conflict, and stereotypes. This makes some Muslims uncomfortable since I will at times openly tackle contentious debates within Islam such as the role of music. Or in other art works, I play with the gap between Western and Islamic notions of feminism, much to the discomfort of certain orthodoxies. And this is exactly why its important to have professional, career-mind­ ed Muslims working in galleries and museums. This arena has become

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just as much a forum for dawah (religious propagation) as the pages of the New York Times, or the podium at any given conference. The stories told by these visual objects challenge the viewer, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, to reexamine their perception of the topic at hand. It’s not uncommon to find myself having to defend this career choice to well-intentioned Muslims who can’t seem to get past the idea that art is not just something you dig out of an Egyptian desert and plop on a pedestal in a museum. “Hold on brother. I’m going to get an Imam who will explain to you why you’re going to go to Hell”. Yes, this was said to me at a national religious conference. Sometimes the comments are comical, challenging me to keep a straight face. Other times a debate escalates into threats of violence against me such as some responses to my “Fatwa against Cat Stevens”

video where I’m exploring notions of authority and rhythm. Typically, that only happens when a person’s argument simply falls apart. In most situations, I will ask the critic to explain what it is he thinks he sees or hears, and then I will point out how that is not consistent with what he is saying is offensive. And that is the power of well-crafted art. The viewer, if they choose to

explore whatever visceral response the art creates in themselves, might

actually learn more about the topic and themselves in the process. Ultimately the Imam-seeking brother never returned, although I was quite excited to see who he would bring. However, while I waited, anoth­ er nationally known Imam who was keynoting at this conference wan­ dered past and was thrilled to see my work. Deep down inside, that moment made me comfortable that I was pursuing the right path for the benefit of Muslims as well as non-Muslims.

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Now truth be told, the art world is not as simple to navigate for an observing Muslim as the sterile environments of any given traditional position such as engineering or healthcare. The first hurdle to pass is art school. While there are many ways to keep things to a minimum, yes, you will see the human form unclothed.

At times it was easy for me to look away, and at other times I considered seeking a religious exemption from particular classes—especially the one that expects you to sit about six feet from a completely undressed living person. Ultimately, in the end I took the class and because of my choice, I have a deep appreciation for the human form. Depending on the particular medium of work, it may not be in your best interest to avoid such classes, just as it would not make sense for a med­ ical school student to skip classes that expose them to nude humans. Its easy to argue that a physician saves lives and this supersedes the whole

modesty issue. Likewise, a well-crafted artistic narrative can open minds to Muslim stories, and become a catalyst for thinking that saves lives. A

little known historical fact is that medical school students used to be expected to take drawing classes of the human form because it was through recreation on paper that they could intimately understand how the muscles under the skin moved and shaped the exterior surface. It’s

quite ironic, to say the least. To me, the issue of viewing an exposed figure is a comfort zone question that can only be answered by the person involved. If it’s to be completely off limits then so should the uncomfortable parts of doctor visits which

are definitely more invasive. And I’d also hope that people would apply the same modesty to airport scanners and insidious pat-downs by driving

to future destinations rather than flying for convenience.

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There is a clear bright line that I draw at three dimensional representa­ tions, or sculpture. This single undergraduate class also gave me a deep understanding of how someone could create the perfect human sculpture with his or her hands, then smack it and demand that it come to life! With two-dimensional work there is a satisfaction of ‘getting it right’ when pursuing a realist form in fluid charcoal drawing. But the danger I see with any three dimensional human forms are exactly as described by the consensus of mainstream scholars, and not surprisingly clarified by

academics into a theory called abduction of agency’. The more an object looks human, the more likely the viewer of that object is willing to suspend rationality of an inanimate object and allow the object to abduct agency. Or in simpler terms, if it looks too life-like, real humans will begin to expect it to come to life and influence its surroundings. This is the main reason why there is little Muslim objection to cartoons and

dolls, but passionate diatribes against non-abstracted paintings and sculp­ tures of humans. The example of the theory explained above is one that I love to use when maintaining that art strengthens my belief in Islam. Yes, sometimes I’m

exposed to things that are better to be avoided, but in pursuit of the big­ ger picture, I minimize as much as possible and tolerate the rest. Imagine being a fly on the wall, hovering above a graduate sculpture critique and being introduced to the “Thing Theory”. The literature is dense and the professor is walking us paragraph by paragraph through that week’s read­ ing allowing us to discuss how we as humans in contemporary society interact with the objects around us. Suddenly the ‘click’ happens in my mind and I burst out rambling about how this is evidence of the truth in Islam and the first commandment given to Abraham — “Thou Shalt Take No God but Me.” Abduction of agency is shirk (attributing other gods to Allah), Allah (SWT) knew that humans are more likely to suspend logic

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if the object looks like a human, therefore its healthier, better, safer, and smarter, for us to not make things that look “too real”. Not only can art and theory become forces for dawah, but thinking about art and theory can increase taqwa (God-consciousness). Again, my advice to students follows a simple litmus test. How real do you intend to make your object, and what purpose does it serve in telling your narrative? Of course its safer to keep to the extreme and avoid any and every hint of humanity in artwork. But isn’t that a problem with some contemporary Islamic (un)thinking that results in dangerous actions? Just go to the most restrictive interpretation and you’ll be safe? Eliminate all dolls and only draw pictures of decapitated heads?

When queried by students about how I handle certain situations, I tell them to think deeply about the evidence in the Quran and badith

(prophetic traditions), as well as to read some commentary by scholars. The human form is very common in Islam’s past so we all need to be hon­ est and learn our history. Evidence abounds in museum collections around the world. I leave students with a non-answer. “Go do your home­ work and then you can decide for yourself. Artists are thinkers, think

about it”. As for me, I can sculpt and paint, but my comfort zones for appropriate have limits and I tend to give those limits a lot of breathing

room. This doesn’t mean that those artists in the past were right, and it doesn’t mean that I am right. After graduate school, I discovered that the American art world is eager to hear what Muslim artists have to say. My work was quickly embraced by succeeding galleries and museums where the receptions were flush with people looking to discuss the viewpoints I embedded into the artwork. And giving truth to the cliche of an art

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gallery reception, most of these people were literally flushed from sam-

pling the bottles of wine that are standard fare in the art world. To many Muslims this is an uncomfortable environment to work in,

and yes, being at a reception is part of the job, not unlike entertaining potential clients. At times it can be ridiculously clichd and I’ll find myself hovering quiedy around the cheese and crackers. Sometimes if the environ­

ment becomes overwhelming, I’ll take a walk around Chelsea to escape the

hubris or even just call it an early night and go home. Mostly though

I’ll find that small group of people who rattle off nonstop questions that start off being about the artwork and deepen into discussions of Islamic

issues that any day’ii (religious advocate) would jump at the opportunity to discuss.

By not being able to overlook the presence of wine, I would miss the oppor­

tunity to catch people off guard. You see, it is my belief that writing an article in a newspaper is only effective if you can get past the guard that people put up towards the author and publication. How seriously do you take FOX news, CNN, Al-Jazeera? Just those names alone preconceive different audiences about anything they might see within those venues.

With the art gallery or museum, the same audience puts their guard down and allows for the possibility of the message to be received. And the

narrative is not just told, but arrived at by the viewer through what is being displayed. I, for one, can easily avoid the wine table and just focus on my discussion explaining the nuances of Islamophobia to a group. And I’ll be

honest. I rather relish being offered a glass of wine and politely declining. I don’t drink. “But you seem so moderate”. lam, and I'm sdllMuslim, so I don't drink.

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That little exchange which has become quite common is critical. Most

Muslims I know think of themselves as moderate, including those to the left and right of what I find comfortable for myself. Unfortunately, the

glaring lack of diversity itself becomes a definition by absence of what non-Muslims begin to define as moderate. Believe me when I say that the

audiences of art gazers are sometimes the most influential society makers in the Western world. While I will never deny someone else’s self defini­ tion of how they perceive themselves, I do find it important to the future

of how non-Muslims understand moderate mainstream American Islam to be part of their experiences of “moderate”.

An observant Muslim can and should be part of the fine art world. It’s an influential world that creates definitions for visual societies like ours.

This is not an Islamic country operating under Sharia (strict Islamic law)

nor will it ever be. As much as we expect non-Muslims to accept our cul­

tural customs as part of ‘being American’ then we must also mitigate American customs that are not preferable. But to be absent for these man­ ageable reasons alone is to allow others to define what the scope of mod­

erate Islam includes, and in that case accept being excluded from it in the minds of non-Muslims, some of whom define how Americans will think

of Islam. Authentic narratives of Islam and Muslims might not be heard,

or worse, replaced by other narratives speaking on behalf of Islam.

For sure this is a path less traveled, for now. Our cultural backgrounds would encourage us to pursue more stable jobs that reward success with

luxury cars and a bathroom in every bedroom. I would encourage every­ one to find what they’re good at, become the best in the world at it, and then try to use it to improve Islam for Muslims and their neighbors.

Undeniably my gift from Allah has always been a knack for story-telling.

I consistently thank God that I dropped out of medical school to pursue

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a life of fine arts. Nothing beats that night at dinner when I told my par­ ents that I would be leaving an honors accelerated biochemical engineer­ ing program to get a degree in fine arts. “So you’re going to draw cartoons

for the rest of your life?” my father barked at me. I wanted to respond by

explaining that syndicated cartoonists and successful visual artists make very decent salaries. However, I respectfully remained silent and waited

for his wrath to pass. As an artist, you have the unique opportunity to change how people think by making beautiful objects that sing untold

stories. And if you’re good at it you’ll still be able to give your family that

quaint cul-de-sac lifestyle with a white picket fence and 2.3 kids.

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Commentary Challenging the Meaning of Traditional Workplace Definitions and Acceptable Roles ¥ n times of political de-stability and social uncertainty, human beings I tend to resort to absolutes. Muslims are no different. The past gen-

JL eration has been particularly trying upon Muslims, and the future has been less than certain. Thus, we find the habit of absolutism in the older

generation. Things are one way, with little wiggle room. As pure as the

intentions behind the absolutism might be, it is still a very stifling way of

thinking that has caused much tension in Muslim American homes when

it comes to the childrens career choices. Yet as Muslims become more firm and established in America, this rigid­

ity can be relaxed. Absolutism will fade into pragmatism. Yes, there are

some jobs that no Companion ever did, but at the same time, no Companion lived in the United States fifteen centuries after the hijra (the

Great Pilgrimage). We must keep in mind that theology and ritual law are absolutes; social customs are not. They change with time and place. What is acceptable in one culture may not be in another.

The first things Muslims established in the West were mosques and schools, two institutions that served their identities as Muslims. Now, the

Muslim community will begin negotiating a space for itself in the larger

society. Three people will be the key here: the business person, the artist,

and the politician. If one were to look at the Harlem Renaissance alone, it would be clear that African Americans never achieved true civil liberty

until they produced the cultural icons of the 60’s such as Muhammad Ali, James Brown, and many others.

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Like it or not, Muslims will follow this path as well. The question is how and why. We should be directing our youth towards branching out in

careers as long as they do not compromise the major guidelines of Islam.

Ironically, the major boundaries are only guarded by guarding the minor

ones, as the Prophet (pbuh) said, “The halal is clear and the haram is clear, but between them is a gray area...Whoever stays away from it will keep their religion pure, but whoever falls into it, will fall into the

haram” Thus, Muslims need to think and work outside the proverbial “box” in order to grow and change the perceptions of Islam. At the same

time, these careers should be explored within the means of halal ways and all individuals must try to steer clear of the gray areas in any type work they decide to pursue.

-S. E.

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Chapter 5

Mom & Dad, Incorporated [Dramatic Narrative]

a __ _ Tk JfT om? Are you taking us to school today?” Twelve year-old I V / I Amal shouts up the stairs amidst the usual morning racket.

“No, I can’t, I have to get into work early. Taha, you’ve got the kids today,

right?” Rummaging through the unfolded laundry for matching knee-

highs without a run in them, I bellow back at my husband. “What? No... of course not. Sorry, Mai. You know I’ve got my big meet­ ing this morning and I’ve barely even prepared what I have to say. I’m

heading out now. Salamsl” With a quick wave and a shrug, Taha grabs his laptop and a bagel and heads out the door.

“Mom, I can’t find my lunch. I think Amal took it!” Ten year-old Ehab joins the chaos with his added shouts.

Not to be outdone, the twin toddlers compete in the ruckus with ear­ piercing screams of their own.

“You liar, Ehab! I didn’t take it. Your bagel was right there on the count­ er. I think Baba took it. Mamma! Ahmed and Mohamed are crying.”

Slowly, I sink down onto the bed. I can’t believe it isn’t even 7:30 in the

morning yet and the day is already heading in this crazy direction.

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» “Astaghfur-Allah. Astaghfur-Allah” I take a few deep breaths and calm

myself down before heading downstairs to see what’s going on with the

kids. I finish getting dressed in record time, and try to come up with a good excuse that I can give to the head nurse again to explain why I’m late as

usual for my morning shift. As a stay-at-home mom for the past twelve years, my decision to return to work surprised everyone, including myself. But, the mounting bills that came from caring for four growing kids along

with the mounting loneliness of being “Mom” all the time, gave me good reason to find a part-time nursing position again. While my husband did­ n’t discourage me from returning to work, he also hadn’t been thrilled

about the idea that our home’s equilibrium might somehow be shifted.

So, I returned to work at my own risk, willingly accepting the idea that

I’d be working part-time, caring for the four kids, and still keeping the

house in decent shape with a hot dinner on the table every night. Surprisingly, on most days things seemed to work out perfectly. My shifts

at the hospital were rather flexible. There was daycare onsite for the twins, and I was usually done with work in time for pick-ups (with the occasional after-care hours coming in handy). The kids didn’t seem to

be affected by the changes in my routine and my husband was usually satisfied with the prepared meals and the surface-cleanliness of the home. Laundry wasn’t done quite so often or folded quite so neatly and dinners

sometimes came from a box, but for the most part, things were working out fine for everyone.

Everyone except for me, that is. On mornings like today, I couldn’t help but question why on earth I even bothered. After paying for daycare and gas, there seemed to be nothing but a paltry sum left over which was

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usually spent on the occasional cleaning lady visit or the ordered-in

meal for the days that cooking just wasn’t an option. Then again, the chance to leave the house and care for others while being compensated for quality work sometimes seemed worth it in the end. Taking a deep breath and feeling a little calmer, I head downstairs to try

to sort out the mess among the children. Cereal is everywhere, book bags are flung open, and the kitchen looks like a cyclone ripped through it. rm not going to lose it. I’m not going to lose it. I chant the soothing mantra

to myself as I bend down to scoop up globs of wet cereal off the floor with one hand and one of the leaky-diapered twins with the other. Ahmed s face is mottled red and his tear-streaked cheeks are warm to the

touch. I lean forward and put my hand on the forehead of my other

toddler and realize that hes also burning up with fever. I put the children

down and sigh.

At this point, I’m already late for work, the children are probably going to be late for school, and there’s no way I can leave two sick kids in the hospital day­

care. But, I also know I can’t possibly call in another personal day. I had

already struggled to find coverage for my shifts twice last week when the older kids were sick. There was no way I could get another day off.

Frantically, I start making phone calls to see if I can just trade off hours with a co-worker. At this point, the kids have kicked off their school

shoes and are running around like screaming banshees with no acknowl­

edgement of the mess I’m in. Luckily, my third phone call to a woman who I had recently switched shifts with turns out to be successful. She

agrees to go in a bit earlier and cover for me while I take the twins to the doctor and then try to find someone to leave them with.

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I whisper a fervently prayed “AJhamdulillah” for the extra few hours I now

have and pack up the four kids, pile them into the van and make my way over to the school. Drop-ofFs done, my next stop is a visit to the doctor’s office. One more frantic phone call to my Mom and I get the grudging

okay to leave the twins for just a few hours with her while I am at work. Just as I predicted, the kids both have strep throat and ear infections. After a quick pharmacy drop-off, I take the kids to my mom’s, muttering

several assurances that they are not contagious. Finally, I settle in for the

45 minute drive to work. Alone in the car... at last.

I smile into the quietness of the van. Part of me feels like superwoman for

managing to get everyone where they had to be under such a tight sched­ ule, and part of me feels like a terrible mom for not being with the sick twins and sending the older kids off to school in such a harried mess.

Shaking my head, I refuse to let myself travel down that guilt-ridden road. A few hours at work would do me good and I had the rest of the week off, so it wasn’t quite a big deal. Maybe I would ask my husband to work

from home once or twice next week and try to schedule my shifts around

his schedule. Although other than helping with drop-offs and pick-ups

there wasn’t much else that would get done. Yet, in all honesty, every little bit of help would be welcome at this point. By the time I swing into the hospital parking lot, the morning chaos is practically forgotten and I begin to hum a little as I walk into the mater­

nity ward. I’m greeted by other adults and I begin to feel the positive rush of being “Nurse Mai” for a few hours. This is what work is all about for

me. The reminder is all I need to put a spring in my step as I bounce from room to room, checking on patients and greeting the new moms who

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really have no idea what they’ve just gotten themselves into.

I’ve barely been at work for an hour when my cell phone rings with its insistent emergency jangle. Glancing down at the screen, my heart sinks. It’s the school.

Stepping out into the patient waiting area, I gingerly

answer on the fourth ring. Ehab is sick with a raging fever and I need to

come pick him up immediately.

Of course this would happen. I had probably just jinxed myself. I glance quickly at the other nurses and doctors scurrying around the floor doing

their jobs and not worrying about how they are going to explain to the Head Nurse that they must leave early, yet again. I can’t complain though. This is the path I’d chosen. There’s nothing left to do but face the music.

My children need me and I am a mother before I could ever want to be anything else.

Sometimes the signs of a morning just shouldn’t be ignored. It was

time to return to those who needed me the most for now. Squaring my shoulders, I march resolutely into the Head Nurses office, ready for the

consequences. I realize that I am luckier than most in knowing that even if I don’t have this job, I still have a loving family at home with a roof over

our heads and a husband who can support us well. After all, I am truly gifted with my children, who I seem to appreciate

more when they aren’t necessarily screaming in my ears. Soon enough they will all be grown up and I’ll have plenty of time to return to work.

Right now is the time for me to enjoy being needed as an essential and

irreplaceable entity... at least for my family.

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Community Pharmacist [Authentic Account] -S.A. cc

cc

atient needs consult at window!” “Medication question on

line 2.” “Doctor call line 8!” As I pick up line 8 to take the prescription, line 9 is also ringing with another phone-in

prescription. This is how my typical day goes at work. By 1:30 pm, as

I’m thinking about praying dhuhr (noon prayer) and having lunch, I’ve got what seems like a zillion prescriptions to verify, and five patients

waiting for their orders. After getting the patients that are waiting all set,

I escape to go pray. I have my prayer corner all set up in the stock room, with the prayer rug

nearby. I pray dhuhr, swallow my sandwich in about three bites, and go

back to my prescription verification. Since I work fourteen hours a day during the week, I am obligated to make three prayers while I’m at work. Usually, the prayers serve as my spiritual diversion from the hectic

environment. I have three minutes per prayer, all to myself, and to make

duaa (supplication) that the rest of the day goes smoothly. Unfortunately, there have been times where I’ve found myself combining prayers, for example, dhuhr and asr (noon and afternoon prayer). To better manage the busy times, I started going into work earlier, before the pharmacy was even open, so I could get a head start on the days work. This, to me, was

the only solution because it was impossible for me to predict how busy the day was going to be. Although many people assume that a pharmacists job simply entails

filling prescriptions, and counting and distributing pills, there is also quite a bit of patient counseling involved. Awhile back, I had one patient

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who had cancer. She was always kind and friendly when she came to the

pharmacy. She, her husband, and children were very positive people,

despite the hardships they faced. I don’t think I ever saw them without

smiles on their faces. Then, one day, I found out that she had passed away. I was very distressed by this news. I instantly thought about her children, then her husband. That’s when I realized that I needed to make a phone call to her husband to extend my condolences.

Its hard to think of the right words to say to someone dealing with such

a loss. Professionally, I felt that I had to reach out to show my support. Also, for the sake of Islam, I felt it was even more necessary because peo­

ple need to understand that Muslims care, and that we don’t need to be of the same faith to show our condolences. So, I made the phone call. I believe he thought I was calling regarding prescriptions, but then, when I

went on to express my sympathy for the loss of his wife; he realized why

I was calling. I told him that I prayed that God would provide him and his family with patience and that I was there for them if they needed

anything. I know that he appreciated these words. I always had such a great pharmacist-patient relationship with him and it only improved since then.

This was not the only time that I had to make a phone call like this. I reached out to an older customer because his wife had just died. When I

called him, he was so surprised. He came in that same week, insisting to shake my hand because of how much he appreciated me. In this case, I

did shake his hand. I usually don’t shake hands with males because my

Islamic understanding is that you should not. However, in this case, my patient was as old as my grandfather, and a familiar customer in the pharmacy. I felt in this situation, that there was more harm than benefit if I refused to shake his hand, and only Allah (SWT) knows best.

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Yet, as much as these situations show me that people can look past differ­ ences in religion when it comes to basic questions of humanity, I also often encounter patients who are prejudiced against me. Here are some examples of stereotypical comments I’ve received: “Wow, I can’t believe you don’t have an accent!” “Nuns don’t have to cover anymore.” “I don’t think you know how to use the computer.” “Are you qualified to be working back there?”

Most of the time, I bite my tongue, or give an explanation if the state­ ment made to me is mild. I’ve found that if these patients regularly come to the pharmacy, and get to know me better, they lighten up and the relationships they have with me become more professional. I did have one patient whose goal seemed to be to shower me with unpleasant remarks every time she came in to fill a prescription. It had gotten to the point where I had to discuss her behavior with my supervi­ sor, and the advice he gave me was to just be kind to her. So, for the sake of my job only, I took his advice. Every time she’d come in, I’d greet her with a smile or a cheerful “Hello. How are you today?” On one occasion, I found out that she was facing a huge family crisis. Upon hearing about this, I truly felt sorry for her. So, I started calling her randomly to ask about her, and to see how things were coming along. I offered to help her with anything she needed and told her not to hesitate to ask for my assis­ tance. After this, things turned around completely. She would come in and tell me how much she appreciated me and even told my manager that she didn’t know what she would do without me being there for her. This situation reminded me of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). There’s a story that relates that there was someone who used to put garbage in front of the Prophets home every day. One day, when he didn’t find any

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garbage in front of his house, he asked about this person, and it ended up

that he was sick that day. When he found out that the Rasul (Messenger)

was actually asking about him, he was in disbelief. How could this person, who used to have garbage thrown in front of his house, ask about where this garbage thrower was when he didn’t show up? He eventually

became Muslim. This teaches us something about how we should be with people in general. Its not every day that people act antagonistically towards us as Muslims. So, whether we are treated kindly or not, we should always be engaging towards others, for the sake of humanity. It is

always possible for someone to change, just because he/she is treated with

compassion.

From a personal perspective, striking a balance between work life and home life is another challenge that I often face. My mother primarily takes care of our daughter when my husband and I are working during

the week. Since I am often not back until after 10:00 pm, my husband

will usually pick her up from my mother’s home around 7:00 pm. By this time, she’s already had dinner at my mom’s house, and is ready to play, read, or do a short activity with my husband before bedtime. Often times,

my mother will send dinner with my husband for the both of us. I don’t think I could be more grateful for this type of relationship and system

that I have. Also, my mom couldn’t be happier to help us in this way. However, I recently started trying to avoid this type of dependency, only

because I feel that I should at least make an attempt to have dinner ready

on my own, ahead of time. Working wives and moms don’t have the same amount of time to accom­ plish household duties as stay-at-home moms might. Time management is key in maintaining a stable and neat home while both parents are work­

ing. Some things I recently started doing are purchasing meats, especially

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chicken pieces that are already cut, cleaned, and marinated. This saves a

lot of time needed during the day on my days off to do other household chores and to spend quality time with my daughter. Also, doing laundry

early in the morning or late at night when everyone is still sleeping has

become the norm. To avoid ironing every piece of clothing that’s washed,

hanging items immediately, straight from the dryer has come in very handy. Growing up, my mother never used the dishwasher. It was always used for

the storage of bags, and other kitchen items. Before I had my daughter, I tried to inherit this characteristic. It only lasted so long. Nowadays, I basically make sure that everything in the sink is quickly rinsed and placed into the dishwasher before the next day. Walking into a clean

kitchen on a regular basis brings peace of mind since the kitchen is the

central part of the home. Besides time management, another vital issue in running a household is ensuring that the husband participates in some chores when the wife is

also working. This creates some balance. Even if it may seem to be small

chores here and there, it all adds up. So my husband will often do his own

laundry, empty the dishwasher, and most importantly, take care of our daughter if I’m working on the weekends or need an hour or two to

myself when were both off. If household and family responsibilities aren’t

shared, and both husband and wife are too involved in their jobs, it will be very difficult to establish a stable environment at home.

I can only pray that I have chosen the correct path in life. Although I’m working right now, I don’t know if I plan on continuing to work full-time fifteen years from now. However, I did not pursue a Doctorate of

Pharmacy degree so I could stay home. I love providing medications to

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my patients, and counseling them when they need it. I am grateful that

Allah (SWT) has provided me with the opportunity to serve my patients in this way, and I pray that He guides us always.

Ameen.

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Commentary Negotiating the Roles of Parent and Employee in a High-Stress Work Atmosphere 'y"V7r7^ien ^ect*c nature of life tends to overwhelm us, an \ X / important point to remember is beautifully expressed in this V V ayah of Surat Al-Baqarah: “On no soul doth Allah place a burden greater than it can bear. It gets every good that it earns, and it suffers every ill that it earns. (Pray:) "Our Lord! Condemn us not ifwe forget or fall into error; our Lord! Lay not on us a burden like that which Thou didst lay on those before us; Our Lord! Lay not on us a burden greater than we have

strength to bear. Blot out our sins, and grant us forgiveness. Have mercy on us. Thou art our Protector; Help us against those who stand against faith. "

(2:286) The beauty of this prayer is often neglected as we struggle in our era of “busyness” to balance what we perceive as priorities. While every person carries specific burdens and defines his or her burden differently, in the end, it is important to remember that Allah (SWT) will never weigh us down with something we cannot handle. However, we must remain strong in our iman (faith) and in our conscious belief that Allah (SWT) is The All-Merciful and will always provides us with what is best. Perhaps the truth of this ayah (verse) is most evident when we think we’ve been stretched to the limit at home or at work and then find that there is more we can handle by the grace of Allah (SWT). A simple comparison of the era of the Prophet (pbuh) to our current lives of ease and technology makes it abundantly evident that what we complain about as “having no time” to spend with family or on matters

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of faith is really just a case of a misappropriation of time. The hours of the day have not been shortened in the years that have passed, but the baraka (blessing) in the way we use that time has greatly decreased. Unfortunately, in attempting to fulfill our work, leisure, and family roles and our desires to self-gratify and self-entertain, the major sacrifice that is often made is in the deduction of time given to our children, our parents, our siblings, our communities and most of all to our deen (religion). There are an abundance of ahadeeth (prophetic sayings) that remind us of the importance of not wasting the precious gifts of time, faith, and family in a race towards worldly pursuits. One well-know example is the hadith narrated by Abdullah Bin Mas'ud where Allah’s Messenger (pbuh) said: ”A man shall be asked concerning five things on the day ofresurrection: concerning his life, how he spent it; concerning his youth, how he grew old;

concerning his wealth, whence he acquired it, and in what way he spent it; and what was it that he did with the knowledge that he had." Likewise,

the hadith narrated by Mu’adz ibn Jabal (RA) reported that Rasulullah (SAW) states: “Those who are admitted into paradise will not regret over anything of this world, except the time spent without Zikr in their life. ” Although we may be familiar with these Prophetic sayings, we can often

get wrapped up in worldly distractions and forget to apply them. In our work-oriented minds, we may often express more anger about a child

neglecting a homework assignment or a spouse forgetting to record a favorite TV show than if we neglect or forget a salah (prayer). This decline of priorities creates a metaphoric and a literal block of faith that can only interfere in our building of strong families. Surely there exists a middle road in meeting our work potential without sacrificing our family lives, our iman (faith), and the capacity for making the best use of our limited time on earth. Finding that middle road and maintaining it is the

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challenge we must all meet to succeed in the dunya (world) and the aldiira (hereafter). [Excerpted from an article written by the author and featured in The Message Magazine.]

-S. I.

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Bring Your Father-in-Law to Work [Dramatic Narrative] Ct

ut, I don’t understand why you can’t give him a job? He needs it more than anyone else right now. He’s at home driving Mom crazy.” For what seems like the hundredth time that day, I try to patiently explain to my wife why I can’t hire her 75 year old retired father to work in the bagel shop. “You know it doesn’t work like that. I can’t put him on payroll; I have enough people working there already.” “You don’t even have to pay him. Just give him something to do. Maybe

he can be the cashier guy or something.” I roll my eyes and try very hard to bite my tongue. Imagining my bossy

father-in-law at work in my little bagel shop makes me shudder. I can already imagine how terrorized the employees would feel as he barks orders left and right and tries to change the way everything is done. “No, means no! Were not discussing it again.” I know I have to be firm

on this one. If I even show a sliver of possibility, the discussion will never

end. Unfazed, my persistent wife continues with her next request. “Okay, then

find him a job at the office instead.”

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Aaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhh. Would there be no stopping this conversa­ tion?

Trying to control my temper, I slowly articulate my words: “They’re not hiring anyone at work now. And even if they were, what does your Dad know about computer software? He’s never even used a computer. Right?” The logic seems so blatantly obvious; I figure my wife must be desperate to find something for her father to do since she is obviously grasping at straws now.

“Fine, if you wont help him then I’ll find someone else who will.”

Huffing and puffing, she marches out the door. I sink back down into the kitchen chair and wonder what I could have possibly done so wrong so early in the morning. We had just prayed fajr

(sunrise prayer) and the day was literally just beginning. Well, there was no time to stop and worry about it. It was time to make the bagels. Grabbing the suit I would change into after my bagel shop stop, I head

out the door and get ready for my double shifts as business owner and Software Analyst. The bagel shop had been a buy-it-on-a-whim type of purchase and seemed like a great retirement plan at the time. Trying to avoid taking out

an interest-loaded loan, I had actually sunk our life savings and then some into the purchase. Little had I known that I’d be spending more time and energy just keeping the store running than I’d ever see back in profit. At this rate the store was going to bleed me dry and there’d be nothing left when it came time to retire.

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Arriving at the bagel shop, I’m met with the usual chaos of employees arguing, bagels over-baking, machinery breaking, and the vent fan not working. Trying to be fair and even-handed, I methodically resolve the arguments, call the maintenance company to come in for a machinery repair visit, and tinker with the fan until it begins working again. By this point in the morning, I’ve already had to explain to three cus­ tomers that we serve halal (Muslim certified) turkey bacon not pork bacon and halal turkey ham. I’m not sure which is worse; the Muslim customers who come in questioning the big flashing halal sign on the

door and claiming that it’s a bid3a (religious innovation) to offer any kind of bacon or the non-Muslims who complain that the bacon doesn’t taste like REAL bacon—even though the menu board clearly states that its turkey bacon. It’s nine am now and I realize I’ve already spent more time than I should have at the shop and must now run to my ‘bread and butter’ job.

Heading out the door, I shake my head as I hear a customer asking for a free bagel since he’s a Muslim too. How on earth am I supposed to run a business like this? Luckily, the guys working the front know enough to stick to their guns. I’m not sure what type of Mickey Mouse operation

people think we’re running here—but there’s no such thing as a free

lunch—or breakfast of course —in this country. Another twenty minute drive and I make it into work with ten minutes to spare before the meeting. I run into my cubicle, gather what I need and head down towards the conference room. Grabbing a seat, I start chatting

with my coworker beside me who gingerly moves a little further away as I am speaking. I wonder at his reaction and then look down and realize that I am still wearing my ‘bagel shop’ clothes and must reek like greasy

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turkey bacon. Excusing myself, I run back to the car, grab my suit and extra bottle of cologne and sprint back into the company to change. In seconds, I stash the stinky clothes under my desk and head back to the

conference room, fresh with generously loaded-on cologne. The meeting has just begun and I’m hoping my lateness will go unnoticed. Of course, no such luck, as my cell phone begins to ring insistently just as I settle down. Apparently I had forgotten to turn it off in my rush to make it to the board room on time. For the second time in the past half hour, I jump

up and run out of the room.

Thinking it must be my wife and preparing to chew her out for calling at such a bad time, I answer the phone quickly. I’m wrong. Its my broth­ er-in-law. “Hey, Salams ya Basha! How are you, buddy?” His booming voice and falsely friendly tone immediately set me on edge. My brother-in-law is

only friendly when he wants something.

“As-salamu Alaikum. How are you, Hamid? I’m kind of in the middle of a meeting right now. Can I call you back?” “Yeah, sure call me back. But, listen, buddy. I need to ask you a favor. I’m looking around for a new line of work and Mona just told me your company’s hiring. Can you get me something where you’re at? I know

that’s where they pay the big bucks, right?”

My heart plummets even further as my brother-in-law keeps on talking. I’m not sure what my wife is up to, but I have the sinking feeling she is inviting the whole family to work with me.

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“Listen, habibi (term of endearment), I’d love to help you out... but I really don’t think I can. I don’t really hold any sway with the hiring folks around here. If you’ve got a resume all drawn up, go online and take a look around at the job offerings and just apply that way.”

I i

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, dear brother-in-law? You help the stranger, but you won’t help your own family? Remember blood is thicker than water and when you need help one of these days, you just

wait and see who’s going to help you out. What goes around comes around, my friend.” And with that dire pronouncement, my ‘dear’ brother-in-law hung up on me. Wiping my brow and trying to shake off the aggravation, I head back into

the meeting, attempting to slip in unnoticed. By the time lunch rolls around, I have already heard an earful from my mother-in-law, been cursed out by my sister-in-law, was told off by my own brother and completely ignored by my wife. And the day wasn’t even

half over yet. Putting my head down on my desk, I realize that not help­ ing my in-laws or other relatives is akin to a slap in the face to the entire

family. Surely, they understand that things just don’t work that way? It isn’t always about who you know, but sometimes it’s actually about what you know. Besides, work and family don’t mix. Or at least they shouldn’t.

Try explaining that to my family members, though. As the day comes to a sluggish close, I field several more panic phone calls

from the bagel shop, sprinkled with a few more scattered relatives’ input. I realize for the sake of sanity, I have to at least give my brother-in-law’s

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job dilemma a half-hearted effort. With a deep sigh I head over to HR

with a slow step wondering what I could possibly say that could dig me out of the in-law dilemma without necessarily getting any family mem­

bers officially hired.

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Muslim Youth Director [Authentic Account]

-A. A. "V 7” Toeing *n an ^s^am^c Center has always been my dream job. V X / Having turned toward religion in my high school years, I V V

spent most of my adolescence in the mosque, learning and

reciting the Quran. One of the brothers even began calling me the “pigeon of the mosque”. After finishing my Bachelors, I got married and was soon approached by the masjid (mosque) to work as a youth director.

I was very excited, but at the same time nervous. Prior to this I worked

for a family business and was not sure how things worked outside of this system. However, the Islamic center I was attending seemed to be quite

professional and organized. Unfortunately, this wasn’t always the case. The first signs of a lack of organization and professionalism began in the

actual hiring process. It took approximately six months to hire me since the Islamic center knew they wanted a youth director, but had no idea

exactly what he should be doing. During the hiring process, I was nervous, intimidated, and a bit unsure of where things were going. When

I was finally hired, I tried to negotiate for what I perceived to be a decent

salary. I was told that this was a masjid and that I was expected

to sacrifice and should not expect a high salary. However, the imam (religious leader) ensured me that as time progressed the “brothers would

be generous and would honor me”. When I was hired, I was given no paperwork, no employee booklet, nor even papers to sign. The president simply told me that I was now a fulltime employee and that the secretary had all of my paper work. When I approached the secretary, he only gave me one form to fill out, and he

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forgot to give me the employee handbook. I was unsure as to the rules and regulations of the masjid. How many sick days was I entitled to? What happens on Eid (religious holiday)—are we off or expected to work? In retrospect, I can now acknowledge that I was somewhat responsible for not insisting on greater clarity, but I was young and inexperienced. When I came in to work the first day, the other employees had no idea that I was now hired. I was given a very small office that fit no more than a small desk and two people. This office was not furnished nor prepared at the time, and I had to prepare it all myself. I was a bit upset, but at the same time it gave me something to do. I was told that the first stage of my job should be planning for the future of the youth in the masjid. I had neither computer nor Internet access for the first three weeks at work. Although I brought in my own laptop, there was little I could do without an Internet connection. I began to feel really guilty because much of my time was spent sitting in the office looking at the walls. Most of the youth were in school during the day, but I was still required to put in eight hours in order to get paid a sufficient salary, and I literally had nothing to do. As the summer began, I started to do actual work. The masjid had a summer program and the center was always filled with youth so my job became very busy. After the summer came Ramadan and that also kept me busy putting together youth programs. On the last day of Ramadan, I received a call from the president asking me to give the last Eid Khutba (holiday sermon). I told him I did not plan on coming to Eid prayer in the masjid, and that I was going to pray elsewhere because my wife and I had made plans early in the morning. He became furious and told me that I was expected to be there to translate all the Arabic khutbas (lectures) into English, and then to give the last khutba in English. I informed him that I could not do this because I did not know that I was

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supposed to be there, and because I was only given one day to prepare for a khutba that was to be delivered to more than a thousand people. After a few minutes on the phone, though, I felt pressured and agreed to give the khutba. An hour later the president called me back and told me that, being the president, the centers board of trustees said that he has to give the khutba. I was very upset and frustrated since it felt like he was trying to get me to do his job! Eventually I delayed my plans with my family and went to the mosque where I work for Eid prayers. Another point of contention that seemed to exemplify poorly conveyed information was that when I was hired, I was told that I would receive health insurance benefits after six months. When six months had passed, I was made to wait another four months because someone had forgotten to add me to the old plan and the masjid was trying to get a new plan with another insurance company. My wife was pregnant at that time and we had no health insurance. We had to apply through the state and she was finally able to go for her first visit when she was about four months into her pregnancy. Again, this caused me to become very frustrated with my job; this treatment felt neither Islamic nor professional.

As time went on I was beginning to both love and hate my job. I loved it when I saw that I was changing and touching the lives of young men

and women. Before working in the masjid I would always be there as much as I could. I would rarely miss praying Fajr or isha in the masjid. However, I began to see the masjid as “work” and I would stay away from it every chance I got— not because I hated prayer, but because I just wanted a break. I hated the meetings, dealing with the president, the unprofessionalism, and all the extra work I was expected to do. When I was hired, I was told by the president that the main form of communica­ tion between the two of us should be via email. When I needed some-

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thing from the president, most of the time he would never reply or would reply after days or even weeks. I recall I once needed to take a week off to take a winter course in school. I emailed the president about five times and received no response. I decided to go without obtaining official permission. I left my job for a week, came back and no one even noticed! The other employees were so busy with their own jobs and lives, and the president was never around. Furthermore, we would have random onthe-spot meetings, where I was expected to drop everything I was doing and attend a three hour meeting. Meetings would never start on time, and a great deal of time was spent going off track, joking, or simply micro­ managing an event, such as whether we should serve food on plastic or on foam plates during a Ramadan iftar (breaking of the fast).

I began not taking meetings or decisions made in them seriously, because I knew there would be no follow up and everything would continue as before. Our meeting times were very inconsistent, we would sometimes meet weekly for two months, and then we would not meet again for another two months. Even when we did have meetings, there was no real reporting system. We simply had discussions concerning general masjid activities or a big event, but no one was ever aware of what the other employees or I were doing day to day. As a married, full time employee and full time graduate student, my job began to take a toll on me. I began to gain a lot of weight because of internal stress and because I had little time for physical activity. Any free time I had was spent with my wife and daughter or catching up on school work. I began to miss the old family business, where I would work less hours

and get paid more. I was also getting very fed up with many extra tasks

that I was completing that were not part of being a youth director. These tasks included activities such as opening or closing the masjid, translating

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lectures which were given in Arabic, or participating in every single meet­ ing that took place regardless of what it was about.

There was a young man who I had introduced to the masjid while he was in highschool and who I tutored in the Quran. He was very intelligent

and hard working; the masjid sponsored him to go study Islam overseas so that he could come back and be an imam (religious leader). He came

back for a visit one summer and we began talking about Islamic work in America and at the masjid in particular. He opened my eyes to many situations that were just plain wrong. He encouraged me to put my foot

down and refuse to do things that were not part of my job. He also told me I was shortchanging myself. I should not be responsible for finding

ponies or inflatables for an Eid event; anyone could do that. He said I

should spend my time teaching the youth, writing articles on Islam, and serving the ummah (community) in a greater way. He also pointed out to me that this is an Arab masjid which is not openly accommodating to non-Arabs. Furthermore, I realized that the way many things were run in

the mosque were not based on efficiency, but rather on the way things ran ‘back home’ and this mentality had been exported to the masjid.

I finally finished my MA in Islamic studies, and I decided to enroll in a PhD program. I was able to get a scholarship which paid for most of my MA studies; however for the PhD program I was not able to find anything. My PhD tuition is about 75% of what I currently earn. I decid­

ed to ask for a raise, since I have been working at the masjid for four years

and I now have an MA and am working towards the PhD. I emailed the president and was told that he would discuss my request with the Board of Trustees, the highest authority in the mosque. After three months, I decided to follow up and discovered that he had not brought the topic up

to them yet! All that time I was naive enough to think that my request

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was being discussed or that something was being worked out. After he mentioned it to the Board of Trustees, they decided to review all of the employees’ salaries, and I was told this may take “a few weeks”. I followed up one month later and was told that the masjid was in a finan­ cial crisis, and a raise could only be based on merit. I was ensured that I was valued, but that since I did not send the president a weekly report, he had nothing to evaluate me on. I have now given up and have decided to not even follow up on the raise issue. However, I was recently standing with the president while he contracted a carpenter to fix the minbar (front area of the masjid) for fifteen thousand dollars! I understand that the pres­

ident is only available on a part time basis at the masjid and has a very full plate, and while I do think some of his actions are inexcusable, I do not put all of the blame on him. Rather I put it on the Board of Trustees who think that a mosque with more than five full time employees can be run by a part time president. I would be foolish to absolve myself of blame, because I certainly have many shortcomings as well. I am now looking for a new career, but have not been able to find any­ thing in the currently tight job market. I do not know what is waiting for

me down the road, but working in the masjid has certainly opened my eyes. I learned that many who want to become imams or dawah workers are trying to live the superstar dream. They see the imam giving an awesome Friday khutba in front of crowds and wish to be like that, but they do not know the pain and hardship that masjid employees go through behind the scenes. There are no set hours; one is expected to be there for fajr, isha, and 6-8 hours during the day. Even when I go home, my phone does not cease to go off with a phone call or text message about something that is needed in the masjid. I hate to sound ungrateful, because there are certainly many great benefits of working in the masjid,

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such as praying in congregation, doing spiritual work, not having to deal with the ficna (sin), trials, and tribulations that may be found outside of the masjid. But its also important to remember that working in the masjid has its own trials and tribulations, of a completely different nature. Currently, things are changing in the masjid, the old president has resigned and one of the employees is now taking the position of president. There are many younger people involved in administration, and things appear to be getting more professional, but it is too early to tell what will happen. I do not regret working in the masjid, in fact I think it is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I have learned a lot about myself and what it is like working for an Islamic organization. This is something I dreamed of and God gave it to me, although it is very different than how I originally imag­

ined it to be. My work has definitely provided a learning opportunity.

I ask the reader to please make a prayer for all of our Islamic organiza­ tions, as well as for myself and my family.

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Commentary Individualism vs. Collectivism, Nepotism, and Other Family-related “isms” at Work ne of the many problems that Muslims face in the workplace is reconciling the clearly collectivistic ideals promoted in Islamic communities with the largely individualistic concepts expressed in the Western work world. Muslims are taught to value the idea of fam­ ily and community and to place that harmonious union and respect above all personal gain. On the other hand, in the Western world ideas of com­

petitiveness and individual success are instilled in children from a young age. The concept of “getting ahead” and “looking out for number one” are both exhibited in the cut-throat actions often seen at work, particu­ larly in the corporate world. Along with this conflict of individualistic and collectivistic outlooks come issues of working with family or relatives. It becomes almost expected that a relative in a work position will easily be able to secure employment for another relative simply based on the relation. While nepotism is frowned

upon and even viewed as illegal by many Western employers, Muslim cultures tend to encourage the bond of family in the form of sillit-arrahim (maintaining the family bond) even at work. It is both acceptable and encouraged for a blood relation to be preferred over a more merito­

rious prospective employee in many Muslim countries abroad. Yet, in our Western societies, this practice would be considered unethical and even grounds for a potential lawsuit. Learning how to balance that wobbly juggling act of managing our work and kinship roles and simultaneously giving the best of each of us to our

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families can sometimes feel like a cautious exercise that we just barely manage to keep afloat. Still, we keep striving towards that balance because

we know that the Noble Prophet (pbuh) advised us that "The best ofyou is the best to his family.” (Tirmidhi, Ibn Maajah)

This hadith alone

reminds us that it is worth the struggle to balance our Islamic ideals with our Western work obligations. We have to find a way to be good to our families and to still maintain the integrity and ethics expected of us in the

Western work world. Sometimes a little understanding and explanation can go a long way in helping us find that balance in all we do.

Concepts based on Geert Hofstede’s and Edward T. Hall's organizational theories.

-S. I.

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Who’s in Charge Here? [Dramatized Narrative] itting in his office, I look around at the constricted space and wonder briefly what I am doing here. Is it even appropriate for me, a divorced mother of marriageable-age, to be locked in a closet­ sized office with a man of questionable morality, discussing topics that might be considered lewd by many? What began as our discussion of the new Biology curriculum quickly veered off topic and resulted in the school Vice Principal asking personal questions about my leisure time and

why I refused to go out drinking with him after school hours. “Well, I was born drunk!” Laughingly I shrug off the probing question and impress him with my easy humor. Why was I here? Something

didn’t feel right. The small part of me that knew that this meeting was not one that I would ever allow outside of work questioned my intentions and cringed at the unspoken answers. He was definitely a handsome man—not too shabby to look at. Rumors in the teachers lounge floated around about how much of a womanizer

he was, picking his prey from the hard-to-get ones. Never mind that his wife was a stunning woman herself. To him it was more about the conquest and the harder the conquest appeared the more desirable the chase, But, I was careful... wasn’t I? Always making sure he didn’t cross the

boundaries of decency. What about our current laughter, though? Was it a sign that I was slipping?

I had been hired recently as the new high school Biology teacher and

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wanted to prove myself. So, what was a little harmless flirtation here and

there? It wasn’t like I was wearing super-short skirts with six inch heels. I

was dressed modestly and usually maintained very modest behavior. This was my boss after all and I was lucky to be working here in a position with a decent salary and benefits to meet both me and my young son’s needs.

Thinking of my five year-old, my spine stiffens. A thought about how inappropriate this meeting may appear crosses my mind just as the bell begins to ring.

I shouldn’t be here. “Thank you so much Mr. Darvin for all your valuable feedback. I’ll definitely integrate some of these changes into the curriculum.”

Practically stumbling over myself, I stand up abruptly and race to the

door. Without a backward glance, I am in the hallway and heading towards class. Confident that I’ve left a baffled Mr. Darvin behind, I

dodge running students and slip into the science lab. Perfect timing.

Class is just about to begin. As my tenth grade Biology students trickle in

after their lunch period, I smell the standard scent of cigarette smoke lingering from stolen puffs in the bathroom stalls. The students divide into their usual groups—the popularity queens with their arms wrapped

around the jocks move towards the back of the room. Joking, laughing, kissing, and cuddling, they clearly pay no attention to the schools “No

Touch Rule”. The super-smart group occupies the usual front row seats,

ready to catch any slight slip I might make. The tattooed, pierced, and generally gothic-looking crowd files in and finds a niche between the two

other extreme groups. Finally, the single-file lingerers stream through the

door.

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The neither here nor there’ pack tends to tug at my heart strings the most. Like shadows lost in the crowd, they gravitate towards no one and get lost in their own average existence. Listening to the insults exchanged between students in the minutes before class began, along with the gloating stories of who “hooked up” with who last weekend makes me think about home-schooling my own son. Ready to begin the lesson on the reproductive system that I know is going to garner immature snickers and comments from the crowded classroom;

I clap my hands loudly to get the students’ attention. Just as I step over to close the classroom door and attempt to gain control, the final straggler walks in. i

I

With her head scarf askew and her books falling out of her arms, Madiha strolls into class, late as usual. “As-salamu Alaikum Ms. Malik.” Annoyed and embarrassed by this students insistence to acknowledge our Muslim “bond” as she calls it, I usher her in and direct her to her seat. I generally prefer not to bring attention to my cultural or religious back­ ground in front of my students. However, after I had been teaching for about a month at this school, I had run into Madiha at the mosque at a

distant relative’s wedding. Since that time, the student acted as if we shared some secret sisterhood that would exempt her from meeting the same requirements expected of her classmates. When she began to skip assignments and fail quizzes, I called her parents in for a conference and found that they shared the same attitude, that Muslims should “help each other out.”

Turning my attention back to the board, I write out the word “Reproduction” and draw the process of egg fertilization to the sounds of

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the expected laughter exploding behind me. A sudden flashback of my days spent in a private school in Jordan immediately comes to mind. The neat, quiet rows and absolute respect shown towards our teachers were mainly what made me pursue a teaching profession years later when I immigrated to the U.S. Lost in reminiscing, I misspell “zygote” on the board, prompting a cry of chastisement from the entire first row. I can no longer tell which is worse: the front row students who consistently question my credentials or the ones in the back who care more about what their classmates are wearing than anything they could ever learn in Biology.

Even though the school year is practically over, I still find it hard to navigate through the utter disrespect of the students and their parents. There had been numerous incidents at the start of the year when a bad test grade or an after-school suspension had prompted a parental phone call threatening to sue me over discrimination of their child. When I remained steadfast in my insistence that I didn’t “give” bad grades or unjust punishments, but that students actually “earned” them, the situa­ tion escalated to the principal’s office. Following my meeting with the Principal, I was promptly given a direct memo stating that there was no reason for me to be such a stickler about grades and that a few instances of cheating did not necessarily warrant such severe punishment. It seemed that teachers and administrators here viewed high school as a true “learning experience” and discipline did not really come with the job description for the teachers.

Fully aware of my rocky status as a newbie, the state budget cuts, and the education lay-offs, I chose to ease up a little on grading as requested and

violated my own beliefs in the process. It seemed like integrity and fair­ ness were not necessarily needed to succeed in the education industry.

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As I focus again on the students and attempt to introduce the lessons concepts, I realize my attempts will probably be futile. One of the more popular students in the back row stands on a lab stool mimicking a very inappropriate act to exemplify the process of fertilization and to garner a few appreciative laughs. I stand in the front of the room with my mouth slightly agape, unsure how to react to this students madness. All around, his classmates seem to be encouraging the act with loud applause and encore requests. My classroom had suddenly transformed into a very vul­ gar movie-like scene. As I glance up at the clock, praying for class to end, I find none other than Vice Principal Darvin standing in the doorway surveying the chaos with a less-than-pleased expression on his face. I look up towards the Heavens and pray fervently for some sort of divine

guidance to help me out of this uncomfortable situation. As the fire alarm suddenly goes off, I wonder if my prayer has really been answered that quickly or if the worst is yet to come. Either way, in that moment I am truly grateful to be saved by the bell.

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Licensed Counselor [Authentic Account]

- R. S. Then entering into the profession of counseling, various risk \ X / factors arise for the therapist such as burnout and emotion-

V V

al exhaustion. Therapy can be grueling and demanding due

to the emotional intensity of the subject matter. In addition to the chal­ lenges that a typical therapist faces in a nine to five work day, a Muslim

Arab female working in this field faces several other challenges as well. The standard career options that parents offer their Muslim-Arab

children are professions in the fields of medicine, pharmacy, law or

engineering. Telling your parents that you are no longer going to take

your MCATS and instead will be pursuing a degree in psychology is often met with shame and disappointment. The field of psychology is usually viewed as taboo by the Muslim

community. Most first generation Americans and immigrants believe that

airing your dirty laundry’ is prohibited and any secrets should be kept within the immediate family.

Immediately this poses an issue for the

therapeutic relationship. The therapist must spend a great deal of effort trying to convince the patient to trust that confidentiality will be main­ tained. The time spent on reassurances could instead be spent working towards the problem issues.

In addition, counseling for Muslims is typically seen as a last resort. Usually the patient has met with a religious leader before therapy and

has been convinced that depression stems from a lack of Islamic faith. In resolving their personal issues and psychological disorders, they are

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advised to read from the Holy Book, fast regularly and have patience that their difficult times will pass. This advice is valid for most Muslims and can be accepted as truth, but often those who reach out to religious lead­ ers are past the point of increasing their Islamic faith. Because of the secrecy within the community, they are typically unwilling to even speak to anyone outside of their home if it is something that can be controlled with a simple increase in religious observance. When they finally reach the point where they enter into a counseling session, they are characteris­ tically drained from trying to “be a better Muslim,” and not seeing their

depression alleviate or their marriage problems dissolve.

Muslims also carry with them the pressure of gratitude in Islam. When one is clinically depressed and is unhappy with their life situation, it is difficult for them to accept the challenge ahead of them and make efforts to help themselves. Instead they are fixated on the belief that they are being ungrateful Muslims who should be accepting of the blessings in their lives and not view their challenges as anything less than tests from God. This complexity makes for a very complicated therapeutic session, in which the counselor is focused on convincing the Muslim that having a psychological disorder does not mean that one is an ungrateful servant to God. In my years of working with the Muslim and Arab clientele as a Muslim

Arab therapist, I have discovered that even outside of the actual psycho­ logical problem, it should be expected that clients will enter your office with at least a trace of these issues mentioned. When one works with non­ Muslim clients, you usually start ahead of the game, where these under­ lying issues need not be addressed.

A typical workday involves numerous challenges that are tackled as the

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situation arises. Many of those issues begin with the mere phone call that

will connect the therapist to the client. Questions in the phone interview help to assess if the client and therapist would be a good fit. Many

Muslim clients begin by trying to connect the professional to anyone in

their social circle or community. If your name sounds vaguely familiar to them, they may automatically reject the therapy because of the fear that their attendance in therapy might be communicated to their family or

community. Often men are not willing to attend counseling by a female therapist. I

have been asked countless times for a referral to a male Muslim counselor, and when unable to retrieve one, the male client would rather see a

non-Muslim male counselor than come in to see me. Because of the intimacy of topics discussed, many males find it difficult to discuss their

marital relationship or sexual abuse with a female. Even more so, when

their problems in life are related to something that is prohibited in Islam, such as gambling, infidelity, pornography, domestic violence or alco­ holism, they are unlikely to want to bring it up with a female counselor.

I have been told that they feel like I would “judge them for being a bad

Muslim” and that I would not be able to be unbiased enough to help them with their problems.

Some male Muslim clients have met with difficulty in dealing with the typical counseling environment. There are a few chairs and a couch placed in an open space, with dim lighting and the door closed. Some

males have seen it as acceptable to be seen as long as they are sitting as far away from me as possible and the florescent lights are turned on in the

office. I have had to explain the possible loss of confidentiality when

leaving the door open or ajar. Yet some male clients insist on this change

in environment in order to be able to participate in the counseling.

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Hijab can also play a major role in the therapeutic relationship. Very

often, mothers have brought their daughters to a session asking me to “fix them” and help guide them towards being more conservative. They ask

me to share with their daughters my life story and why I decided to wear hijab and practice Islam. Therapeutic boundaries are crossed in doing so

and they must be told that this cannot occur. Their daughters then shy away from the therapy because they are aware of the underlying reason of

why their parent wants them to see a Muslim therapist. During one such case, a sixteen year old Muslim female refused to begin a counseling

session when she saw me in hijab. She stormed out while her mother

apologized to me profusely and could not understand why her daughter would not want to see a therapist who, in her own words, “could be a

good role model while also being her therapist.”

With my non-Muslim clients, hijab is often the pink elephant in the

room. Adult clients usually skirt around the issue, trying to bring it up surreptitiously. Often, clients will tell me that once it is discussed, they

feel the tension leave the therapeutic relationship and can begin to trust

me as the therapist. Adolescent clients are typically much more direct when it comes to hijab. Many have asked me outright to take it off and

show them my hair. They are usually interested in hearing more about it and feel they must fulfill that curiosity in order to gain an alliance with

the therapist. Several clients have also attended the first interview session and then asked for a new therapist. Some have stated that they believed

the hijab represented religious extremism, and some came from a differ­

ent religious background and felt that our personalities would not “mesh” because of my head covering.

Many awkward social situations also tend to occur in non-work related

settings. Because of the lack of Muslim therapists, many of my referrals

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Who’s in Charge Here ? are close to home and people that I know. Therefore, seeing a client out­ side of work happens very often. Professional boundaries are not always respected which puts me in a sticky situation. Often, during the month of Ramadan, I will see my clients praying beside me in the masjid. They sometimes may ignore me completely. Or others might introduce me to all their friends and family, kissing me on both cheeks, referring to me as a friend from work. It has also occurred where my client has seen me at a wedding, conversing with a sibling or spouse. After this incident, it came up in session that they cannot trust me because they do not know if I am exposing their innermost secrets to people they know. Because of Arab customs in which boundaries are very loose, many make the assumption that I fall into that category with confidentiality. The fear of the secret making its way to the community is so high, that often the client will just quit counseling.

Being a Muslim-Arab female therapist has its challenges but it is also very rewarding. In many cases, you are sought out solely because of your understanding of Islam and ability to speak the Arabic language. In other cases, you are avoided because of your role in the community, or because you are viewed as too righteous to be exposed to the incidents that lead to one being in therapy. Working with non-Muslim clients often puts one in a situation that can be judgmental and requires constant defense of religious customs. Ignorance and rejection of these religious customs exists, but the presence of comprehension and understanding of being a Muslim female in the workplace can also be found just as often.

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Commentary Understanding Power Distance, Positions of Authority, and Uncertainty Avoidance JT uch of the discrepancies between Western work priorities and I \ / I Muslim codes of conduct stem from a misunderstanding of JL ▼ JL cultural cues. Power distance, for example, is the idea that

some cultures maintain a very deep and unquestioning respect for people in authority, while others feel that it is incumbent upon them to question authority. For Muslims, the Qur’an stresses the importance of respecting parents and elders which often leads to an extremely high power distance perspective. This view is often muddled by the low power distance soci­ ety we see in most work places in the West. The following ayah shows one example of the respect that must be afford­

ed to parents: “And we have enjoined on man the doing ofgood to his parents; with trouble did his mother bear him and with trouble did she bring him forth; and the bearing of him and the weaning of him was thirty months; until when he

attains his maturity and reaches forty years, he says: My Lord! grant me that I may give thanks for thy favor which thou hast bestowed on me and on my parents, and that I may do good which pleases thee and do good to me in respect of my offspring; surely I turn to thee, and surely I am of those who submit.” (46:15) Another often-quoted Qur’anic verse states “Andyour Lord has command­ ed chat you shall not serve (any) but him, and goodness to your parents. If

either or both of them reach old age with you, say not to them (so much as)

"ugh " nor chide them, and speak to them a generous word." (17:23) 102

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This respect for parents trickles down to a respect for all elders and

authority figures. Thus, it might be difficult for a Muslim at work to overtly question or correct a superior. Whereas others who ascribe to a

low power distance perspective may be able to succeed at work because of

their ease in questioning authority. This same disparity of cultural value dimensions is also reflected in work-place views towards uncertainty

avoidance. Many cultures welcome a certain degree of uncertainty and accept greater

flexibility in terms of rules and restrictions. Other cultures, such as those of many Muslim societies adhere to high uncertainty avoidance and

prefer to have rigid roles and rules to guide everyday interactions. As Muslims, it may be difficult to navigate the fluidity of supervisor

and subordinate relationships in an unstructured work atmosphere. Yet, regardless of the differences between perspectives, it’s important that every employee understand the work atmosphere and the disparities between viewpoints in order to better facilitate more open interactions and dialogues at work.

Based on Hofstede’s cultural-value dimensions and Hall’s organizational theories. -S. I.

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Chapter 8

What Time is Lunch Again? [Drammatized Narrative]

he grumbling sounds of hunger emanating from my stomach were completely drowned out by the clanging and banging of the busy kitchen. The blender whirred; the deep fryer sizzled; the pots, pans, and dishes clattered, all while orders and directions were shouted above the chaotic din. Here, in the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, I felt right at home—at least most of the time. “Chef, taste this tabbouleh (Middle Eastern dish) and let me know if I got it right.”

Eyeing the green salad cautiously, I answered my Sous Chef, “Yes, yes. It looks good. Go ahead and serve it.” “What? You mean you’re not even going to taste it?” The particular insis­

tence of my Sous Chef to always do things ‘right’ was both a blessing and a thoroughly annoying trait at the same time. “I’m fasting, man. I’m fasting.” “So? I’m not saying eat it. Just taste it. I can’t serve it if you don’t taste it. How am I supposed to know what this green goop is supposed to taste like anyway? It’s your recipe!” I held my tongue from muttering a few choice words under my breath.

Stay calm, Shahid; stay calm. I knew that my observant fast would be

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broken if I let a nasty word slip. It would be the same as if I ate a whole bowl of tabbouleh and licked the spoon afterwards—just without the satisfying alleviation of hunger to go with it. It was Ramadan, the one month out of the year when working as the Head Chef in a classy Mediterranean fusion restaurant in New York was a little difficult. Okay, so it was a lot difficult. And the tasting part was just the beginning.

I had been hired by the owner of the struggling city eatery last year to help the floundering restaurant pull off an authentic “Middle Eastern” style. I had gone to culinary school in Cairo and had excelled in all sorts of fusion cuisine. Right out of culinary school I had been hired to work at a ritzy hotel on the Nile that catered to both wealthy locals and frequent tourists and business people. I was able to present my dishes with both finesse and flair. Soon enough, the food critics were singing my praises. I traveled the ranks relatively quickly and found myself appointed Head Chef in a very brief amount of time. As a Muslim working in a predominantly Muslim country, I had the final

say in my kitchen in Egypt and would not allow any alcohol near any of my dishes. It was easy to substitute apple juice, sparkling water, or even soda in some recipes that called for cooking wines and spirits. I was

actively recruited by several top Middle Eastern restaurants as the trend towards Arab-infused food gained momentum around the world. I was days away from leaving Cairo for a great offer in Dubai, when I decided to pray istikhara (prayer before making a difficult choice) to put my heart at ease regarding the big move. To my utter surprise, I had barely said my

salam (prayer ending) at the end of my salah (prayer) when my phone rang with an urgent out-of-country ring.

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I was pleasantly surprised to hear an American voice on the other end inviting me to interview for the position of Head Chef in a glamorous New York restaurant. The owner of the American restaurant had eaten at

the Cairo hotel several times and had decided I was just what he needed to turn his restaurant around in the city. I was sure that this was a clear sign from Allah (SWT) and eagerly accepted the offer. I made the call to reject the Dubai position, and was suddenly on my way to a place further away in both miles and lifestyle from anything I could have ever imagined. Being a student of private American schools in Egypt, I was confident

that I would fit right in with everyone in the States. After all, I spoke the

language and had met many Americans in both my schooling and in my

work at the hotel. I was sure that my cultural transition would be an easy one. This was a dream come true and I knew that I was the envy of every culinary student and chef that I knew. My first shock was upon entering the New York restaurant and finding that both an evening belly dancer and a sheesha (hookah smoking) lounge were an integral part of the restaurant ambience. It seemed like the owner wanted to attract customers by conveying the rather stereotypical “Arab” elements rather than focusing on creating a fine Middle Eastern cuisine

establishment. Back home, this type of entertainment was generally

reserved for lower class establishments or relegated to specific street cafes that were visited by less than savory types. Preferring not to partake in these activities, I shrugged off my disapproval since I knew that I would be in the kitchen rather than near the entertainment anyway. Upon my arrival in the kitchen, I was immediately asked to begin work. There was no initiation period where I could get to know my Sous Chef

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and other assistants. It didn’t seem important to the owner that I wanted to build a relationship with my coworkers in order to get to know them better. Realizing that I might be viewed as a slacker if I focused on the people rather than the work, I accepted the challenge and threw myself whole-heartedly into meal preparation.

Yet, even this did not seem to be enough for the manager or the owner. Rather than taking our time in preparing the meals, the entire kitchen

staff was consistently told to rush, rush, rush. Customers appeared to have no time to wait for a meal that needed to be prepared slowly and carefully. I was used to treating customers who appreciated waiting patiently for a worthwhile meal, but here it seemed that no one had time to enjoy the company of others, the atmosphere, or even the food itself. Everything and everyone was on a tight schedule that could not be inter­ rupted by waiting for a good meal. The real trouble with time though began on the first Jumuaa (Friday) that

I was working. I needed to leave the kitchen to pray at the mosque which

was several blocks away. Jumuaa prayer time happened to fall during the traditional American lunch time. I excused myself from the kitchen and told my Sous Chef to keep an eye on things for the next hour or two until I returned. At the time, I didn’t realize that leaving for prayer or anything else during the lunch hour was considered unacceptable for a Head Chef. It looked like Jumuaa prayer timing was going to present a serious

problem. After weeks of aggravation and missed prayers, I finally approached the

restaurant manager and explained my situation. Surprisingly, he asked why I couldn’t pray the Friday prayer on Thursday or Wednesday instead,

since those were slower days for the restaurant! I couldn’t believe he was

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serious about his suggestion. At a loss for what to do, I began praying the Friday prayer quickly and alone in the corner coat closet for fear of losing my job. I knew that the Friday prayer in particular was supposed to be performed at the mosque in congregation, but I felt like I couldn’t fail at this job so early on and that maybe if I became more comfortable in my position later on I could ask about having Fridays off. And that’s how the compromise began and then seemed to spiral out of control. It was as if because I had given in on one religious issue, I now had to give in on all of my beliefs. The next challenge came in the man­

ager’s request for me to suggest wine pairings with each dish. Shocked, I

shook my head and explained that I didn’t drink alcohol, nor would I rec­ ommend it to anyone. Again, shrugging nonchalantly, the manager sug­ gested I begin drinking since he would need to show the new menu list to the owner later on in the week. Deciding to draw the line somewhere, I refused to drink. Luckily, my

Sous Chef had grown rather fond of me and came to my aid at that point by suggesting the wine pairings, which I still felt guilty about since■ I had to sign my name to his suggestions. It was bad enough that I was work­ i

ing in a place that had a huge bar, but I was also being asked to recom­ mend something I was morally and religiously opposed to. But, what could I do? In the grand scheme of things, I had left my country, my family, and my lifestyle to take on this position. I couldn’t compromise my work position simply because I didn’t want to serve people alcohol. If I didn’t drink it, then what harm could it do to simply serve the alcohol to others?

As my fingers flew across the cutting board, chopping eggplant for my traditional moussaka dish, I realized that in the past few weeks that I had

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What Time is Lunch Again ? been in America, I’d changed more than I ever imagined I would. 'Inrr.gj I never would have allowed myself to turn a blind eye to back home rz/w seemed acceptable and almost second-nature. What started as an occa~ sionally missed or late prayer had now become days of entirely skipped prayers as the busy kitchen didn’t really allow time to break and pray My

abhorrence of all things alcohol-related had now turned into a grudging tolerance of others drinking around me. Even the owners insistence to incorporate ground pork in my kufia (middle-eastern meat patties; since it was cheaper than beef, met with little and futile resistance on my end. And the list of my “little” transgressions could go on. Wiping my hands on my apron, I realized that my willingness to pan with my beliefs had cheapened their value in so many ways. How could

I ask others to respect my religion if I didn’t even respect it? With a deep sigh, I put down my chopping knife and headed over to the kitchen sink. It was time to pray. This time dinner could wait.

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Corporate Employee [Authentic Account] -A. P.

ow should I begin to share my experiences of being a Muslim in the American work force? Many different thoughts come to mind in response to that question, some positive and some challenging. I remember the positive responses of my non-Muslim coworkers during the time I shared my Qurbani (holiday meat) with them and used it as an opportunity to explain Eid Ul-Adha (holiday of sacrifice). I also remember the times where I would meet a fellow Muslim

brother for the first time in the workplace and we would give each other

the expected salaams (peace greetings) along with the standard Muslim man-hug. The startled looks from coworkers spoke volumes of accusa­

tions like “You don’t even know that person. You’ve never even met him. How can you embrace like that?” It was difficult to respond to the looks or explain the shared feelings of camaraderie with a complete stranger so I tried to ignore the coworkers’ quizzical glances.

My first experience as a Muslim in the work world began with my first !

high school job. I worked in an office calling people to let them know that their retail bill was past due. I didn’t have a Muslim identity as I think

back to that job. I didn’t advertise myself as a Muslim, my coworkers just assumed based on my name and look, that I was an “Indian.” Hindu or

Muslim didn’t seem to matter to them as they just lumped me without question into the ‘foreigner’s’ bin. It was a part-time job in the evenings,

so I never had to go to Jumuaa (Friday prayer). As I reflect back on that

time though, I sadly recall that if it was maghrib (evening prayer) time, I

never really felt I that had to pray on time. Once I got home, I made up any missed salahs (prayers).

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I recall being asked why I wasn’t going to my High School Prom that year. I just said it's not something I wanted to go to. My intention was to

simply “fly under the radar” and not necessarily call attention to my differences. Occasionally, there would be work outings to the bowling alley. Co-workers would drink beer and I wouldn’t. They’d ask me why I wasn’t drinking, even though I was obviously underage. Again, rather than launching into a long explanation, I would just say that I didn’t drink and they accepted that as a sufficient answer. I never said I didn’t drink because I was Muslim. It seemed easier to keep my answers brief. While in college, for my next job I worked in a retail pharmacy. At this job, I didn’t hide my Muslim identity, but I also didn’t advertise that I was

Muslim. AJhumdulillah (Thank God) it turned out that several of the pharmacists were Muslims and they knew by my first name that I had to be Muslim. I struck up a great friendship with those few Muslim

pharmacists; they were like my older brothers and mentors. One of the brothers was from Palestine; we would break our fasts together during Ramadan. He wanted to hear me read the Holy Qur’an out loud; I was

embarrassed because my reading and pronunciations were inadequate.

However, he never made me feel bad, and he instead tried to teach me. I think that’s when I started to understand true Muslim brotherhood. My

new Muslim pharmacist friends wouldn’t work Fridays for Jumuaa so that

empowered me to ask for the same privilege. I simply told my managers

not to schedule my hours during the time of Friday prayers and there was never any issue with my request alhumdulillah. During this period of work, my eyes were opened in another way as

well. I didn’t realize my naivety until years later. I assumed all Muslims were practicing. Yet, one time a new manager was assigned to the store I was working in. He was a Muslim brother from Bangladesh, I believe. I

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thought having a Muslim boss would be awesome. It turned out that the

man didn’t go to Jumuaa and didn’t even fast during Ramadan. It left a very bad impression on me. I soon started my first professional job with a large accounting firm in

North Jersey. By that time I was more confident and didn’t hide my Muslim identity. During the interview process, I made it clear to the hiring manager that I needed to take off on Friday afternoons to make my

Jumuaa Salah. It wasn’t a problem, they were very accommodating. I lived

very close to the office so during the afternoons I would go home to pray zuhr (noon prayer). People wondered why I didn’t have lunch with them but I just said I had things to do.

Then Ramadan came. I was fasting and it was at that point that I had

to tell people that I was Muslim and explain what Ramadan was. My

coworkers were fascinated and couldn’t believe how I did not eat or drink anything during daylight hours. Everyone was friendly, curious and

respectful. Years later, I even had non-Muslim staff keep fasts with me in

a show of support, respect and solidarity. It made fasting at work rather fun. My coworkers would fast with me so they could lose weight. I would call them up before fajr (sunrise prayer) time to make sure they ate and

drank something. The ones who weren’t fasting would tempt us at work by eating food in front of us, but it was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one resisting. The fasting really brought us together as a team.

However, soon after this comfortable: set of affairs, things would change

for the entire world. I would always come < into work early and start my

normal routines as the Service Desk Manager. Yet, on one morning in September 2001 one of my coworkers came running to my office and

pointed out the window. There were plumes of smoke coming out of one

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of the Twin Towers. Although our office was located in Lyndhurst, New Jersey, we had a clear view of the Manhattan skyline. I turned to take a closer look and sure enough, I could see one of the Towers with smoke

billowing out. We all wondered what could have happened and hoped

everything would be okay.

As I returned to work, other people kept

popping into my office to see the smoke coming out of the Tower. People

were turning on the radio to hear the news and going to the Internet to see if anyone knew what was going on. At this point there were several

people in the office all looking out towards the Towers. Unconfirmed reports of other events happening kept trickling in. We all stood plastered to the windows watching the horrific scene unfold. Suddenly, we saw

another plane approaching the Towers. Wait! It was getting too close... way too close. And before our eyes, the

approaching plane crashed into the remaining tower. Surreal, unbeliev­ able, what had we just seen? This was not good. A niggling fear began to

gnaw away at me. Everyone was sent home. For the next few days and

weeks everyone was glued to the TV. My friends at work knew I was Muslim. They would ask me if I understood what Osama Bin Laden was

saying on TV. They asked me to explain what was going on and why

Muslims did this. I no longer knew if I was defending Islam or myself

to be honest. I tried to explain to everyone that these attackers couldn’t even be considered Muslims because they were acting in such complete opposition to Islamic principles. I explained that I didn’t know anyone

who would ever do anything like that. At that point, it was well-known that I was a practicing Muslim in the

office. My management made it a point to make an announcement that no type of bias or harassment would be tolerated at the office. Some of the people gave me dirty looks, or at least that’s what it felt like. Maybe I

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was becoming oversensitive because I felt defensive on behalf of my faith.

Soon after the tragic events of 9/11, I felt inspired to talk more about Islam with my friends and coworkers. I finally explained why on Fridays

I had to take an extended break for prayers. I left my prayer rug out in

the open so people would see it and know that if my door was closed, I was praying. I explained what halal food was, why we pray five times a day, and the meaning behind the Ramadan fast. During my explanation of the five pillars of Islam, I spoke to many coworkers about Hajj (religious pilgrimage). They asked me why I hadn’t gone to Hajj yet. I

didn’t have a good answer, which is when I knew I had to go to Hajj.

I went to Hajj and came back a changed person. My hair was gone, and my beard was a little thicker. Once again, my coworkers were fascinated and interested in the Islam I knew and was practicing, not the mediated Islam that they were seeing and hearing about on TV. Time passed quick­

ly, it was the next Ramadan already. I felt inspired. I knew we had many Muslims in the office, so I decided to look up every Muslim/Arabic

sounding name in our internal directory. I emailed all of them and proposed that we book a conference room and make salah in jama’a

(congregational prayer). A few people showed interest, alhumdulillah.

New friendships were made. People in the office now knew we were all Muslims going for prayers, fasting, eating vegetarian items at corporate events and not consuming

any alcohol. Islamic holidays were openly acknowledged and discussed during Town Halls. Presentations on Ramadan were made available on

the company Intranet sites. When we moved to a new building, there was even an accommodation made for a private room that could be used for

salah (prayer). However, non-Muslims also saw contradictory things from their perspective. Many people in the office identified themselves as

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Muslims, but several weren’t practicing Muslims. People would often come to me, saying so and so person is Muslim and he doesn’t go pray with you guys. Or he or she is always at our Friday afternoon meetings and I’ve invited them out to the bar and they’ve had alcoholic beverages. Or, hey, it’s Ramadan, but I saw him eating some chips and drinking some soda. While I know not everyone is a practicing Muslim, my heart refuses to acknowledge that. In those instances, I did my best to diplomatically reconcile the differences that my non- Muslim coworkers saw in our behavior and actions.

Another unsettling incident that occurred in the workplace after 9/11 had to do with email correspondences. In the era we live in, emails are a normal part of daily routines in the workplace. However, emails are often not limited to work-related items. Naturally, people like to share jokes, pictures and stories even at work via email even though most corporate policies discourage this practice. As the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were taking place, there was a great emphasis on being patriotic. One of my employees out in the Midwest always liked to share emails and most of the time I did not mind innocent jokes and stories. However, one time he acci­ dentally included me in an email that portrayed Islam in a negative way. Rather than responding with anger, I called the person and had a calm dis­ cussion with him about not circulating non-work related emails and I explained that the email he forwarded was inaccurate and not true. He felt horrible and apologized. To his credit, he sent out a retraction to everyone with an apology even though I did not ask him to nor did I expect him to take such an action. At the time that this happened, both Muslims and non-Muslims told me that I should have fired him; I suppose it would have been warranted, but in his eyes I would have always been the “Muslim who

fired him.” Instead, I pray that in his eyes I ended up being the Muslim who showed him compassion and forgiveness.

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Recently I’ve started a new job for a company in a totally different indus­ try as a Global Employee Service Center Manager. I have a feeling of dej&

vu, as I am going through the learning process of the company culture,

company politics and different personalities in my own department and other departments. I’m slightly more low-key on purpose. I’m not sure

how people will react to my open expression of faith. Sometimes I’ll do

things like letting people know I need an extended break on Friday after­ noons and that I don’t drink alcohol or eat non-halal (specifically butchered) meat. Most of my new coworkers don’t know if I’m Muslim and simply sum me up as “Indian.” For this job, I’ve also had the

opportunity to travel abroad. When I go to Europe, I don’t openly say I’m Muslim to my European counterparts. However, when I traveled to

Manila in the Philippines I had no qualms about openly admitting that I am Muslim. Only a few short weeks ago, we had our department holiday party. There

was a gift exchange as part of this party.

I didn’t participate but also

didn’t disclose my reasons to anyone. I think my coworkers knew this was not a holiday I celebrate at home and people were very respectful, curious

and courteous. At this company, while I openly engage in talk about Islam, I purposefully avoid any geo-political discussions involving Iran,

Iraq, Afghanistan and Palestine. Those are discussions which can lead to debate and disagreements, for me and other Muslim professionals I know,

we steer clear of those types of topics or stay neutral at best.

So what does it mean to be a Muslim at work? I don’t think that can be defined simply. The answer is unique to each individual based on

personal experiences in the workforce.

There are so many variables

involved that there is no cookie cutter definition as evidenced by the different narratives collected in this very book. My advice is to be open

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What Time is Lunch Again ? that you are a Muslim and follow the tenets of your Islamic faith. Allah (SWT) will open doors for you that will not only allow you to prosper but enrich the lives of the people you come into contact with at work.

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in the

Western Workplace

Commentary Ablution, Prayers, Fasting, and the Trouble with Time he Prophet (pbuh) never preached about being on time. But he taught us that the validity of our worship is often linked to time. He trained us to avoid the bad habit of procrastination: “The best prayer is die prayer done at the beginning of the time.” The Qur’an also derides those who “are forgetful about their prayer. ” Likewise, Ramadan and Hajj are very time-oriented worships. One who eats too late into suhur (pre-sunrise meal when fasting) can lose his or her fast. One who misses Arafa (pillar of Hajj) will have wasted his or her entire Hajj. Judging from the importance of timeliness in these acts of worship, one can conclude that this respect of time should carry over into our everyday interactions as well. However, the respect of time tends to vary widely based on cultural

and societal expectations. For instance, the study of chronemics in organizational settings state that while Western society is particularly

monochronic, many Muslim societies are polychrohic in nature. A mono­

chronic culture is one that is rather obsessed with time and constantly

restrained by schedules. A polychronic culture focuses more on a fluid view of time where the experience is more important than the time it takes to complete it. The contradiction here often appears when a Muslim might display a

more lax view of time at work by taking longer breaks for wuduu (ablution) and salah (prayer) as opposed to what other employees might be afforded. In understanding the Western work concept of “time is money,” one might begin to gain a better understanding of why an

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employer might frown down upon providing any employee taking

frequent “religious” breaks. It may take some creative “thinking outside of the box” to resolve these

stigmas such as scheduling rightful breaks around prayer times or as much as possible avoiding working hours that might conflict with Friday

prayers.

Again education is the key to greater understanding in this

situation. Coworkers and managers are often very curious about religious issues such as ablution, prayers, and fasting. Attempting to steer poten­

tial conflict situations into learning moments for everyone may make for a friendlier atmosphere and a more conducive work environment for all involved.

Chronemics applications based on Hofstede’s and Halls value dimension theories. -S. E. & S. I.

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I say Tomato, You say Toe-mah-toe [Dramatized Narrative] eace be upon him) said “Islam began as something strange and will return as something strange, so glad tidings to the strangers.” I guess that means we better get used to being ‘strange’ because it’s here to stay. Is being strange really such a negative label though? In my opinion, it is actually a blessing fr