The sky, mesmerizing, is draped in orange and pink hues. In this sacred month of Ramadan, Muslims gather around a table, eagerly waiting for the moment to break the fast. Cell phones are ringing simultaneously:” Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar ”, which announces the Maghrib prayer, the sunset and the time of the meal.
At Sharifa*, the excitement is at its peak. She prepared a table full of succulent dishes to welcome her family and friends. It is a Iftar** typical, with a touch Queer.
“I could not imagine myself”
It was in her thirties that Sharifa, a mother of three children, revealed her sexual orientation. Often confronted with questions about her sexuality, she admits that, for a long time, she did not know how to define herself outside of heteronormativity. “To be honest, in my youth, I was quite homophobic. I even remember writing an essay at CEGEP against homosexuality. It was in the 1990s, so I didn't have any academic repercussions,” she says.
When she was younger, she once asked her father how he would react if he had a gay child. Her response, while reassuring on the surface, caused a real heartbreak for Sharifa. “My father simply said that he would continue to provide for him, but I understood that this meant that he would not accept it.” Sharifa adds, “Looking back, I realize that asking this question was already an indication of my attraction to people of the same sex, but I did not know that I was attracted to people of the same sex.” Sharifa adds, “Looking back, I realize that asking this question was already an indication of my attraction to people of the same sex. I don't know how to accept and live this identity in a harmonious way with my other identities.”
She explains that her homophobia was based on a mixture of ignorance and cultural rejection. As a member of a visible minority, both racially and religiously, she lives from exclusion from the dominant culture. Her very existence left her with the impression of being countercultural, marginal; this, therefore, prompted her to reject her homosexuality and the concept of homosexuality. Queer in general, which she strongly associated with the West. Sharifa admits to having internalized all sorts of propaganda and expresses her shame by acknowledging: “I didn't think you could be Muslim, Indian and Queer. I could not imagine it. I couldn't imagine it.”
“To be Queer has been a blessing for my Islam.”
It was when she returned to university that Sharifa began to diversify her relationships and gradually open up to the LGBTIQ2S communities. She adds that she had “so many gay friends” that she often found herself defending them, especially in the face of her sister who considered their existence to be Haram, that is to say religiously illegal.
“I then started to investigate the subject to convince her otherwise. And one day, during a search, I discovered an interpretation that really touched me. That's when I realized that I was myself Queer. By making sense of it all from an Islamic perspective, I was finally able to claim that identity and avoid a lot of the guilt and shame that sometimes comes with it,” she explains in a relieved tone.
Throughout her marriage (with a man), and even after the birth of her three boys, the suspicions of those around her about her sexual orientation persisted. Her ex-husband questioned her about her sexuality himself, but she still strongly denied that part of herself. “I believed that everyone had same-sex attractions and that that didn't necessarily mean identity. Queer ”, explains the forty-year-old.
“The fact of being Queer has been a blessing for my Islam. It made me a stronger Muslim. I got to know my faith better because I questioned it and questioned the homophobia that was supposed to be inherent in it. I then learned that Islam and homosexuality were not antitheses. I got closer to Allah, I deepened my religion and my faith,” she said in a jubilant voice.
“I am only accountable to my Lord”
As a result of her divorce, and even before she considered herself to be Queer, rumours about her sexual orientation spread because of her non-straight friends. “A friend from the time came to talk to me about it and told me how disgusting it was to spread such horrible rumours,” she said.
She explains that it was easier for her to defend the cause openly. Queer when it wasn't about her. “I felt like I was defending someone else; I didn't see how harmful those words were,” she admits.
However, she points out that for many people in her community, trauma has almost become a culture in itself. “In the context of Islam in the West, Muslims tend to conform to the image of the “Other” that the West has given them, explains the Muslim woman. Obviously, this does not excuse this behavior and gives a bad connotation to a peaceful religion.”
This situation is greatly affecting her relationship with the Muslim community. “While living with my partner and we were in a relationship, I kept this from my longtime friend. Finally, I told him about it, but I was hesitant and a bit scared. I was surprised by his reaction. She just laughed and reassured me,” says Sharifa. This experience made her aware of her own behavior and the resulting internalized Islamophobia, as she would not have had such doubts with white or non-Muslim friends. “Hesitating, I denied her the right to be gay herself, to be gay, to support LGBTIQ2S+ people, and to be open-minded. This only reinforces the erroneous image of Islam in the Western collective imagination, by making this religion seem intolerant,” she denounces in a sad tone.
Although she is working on the Islamophobia she has internalized, Sharifa unfortunately cannot control how she is perceived by others. As an Indian woman, especially when wearing the hijab, she faces rejection from some members of the LGBTIQ2S+ community. “Time and again, people in the community Queer told me that I had to choose, that I could not be both Muslim and Queer, or that I was not enough Queer. Once, during an event Queer, a white, non-Muslim person came to me to ask why I was there, and they started to deny my identity Queer under the pretext that I am obviously Muslim and not sufficiently in line with Western standards of Queeritude.”
Western standards weigh on Sharifa even in her most intimate relationships. “I was in a relationship with my girlfriend for five years. She insisted that I do a Coming Out, even if I am not attached to this practice, which has Catholic roots. For me it is not necessary, because I know what I am doing and God knows it too. I don't see the point in going public with my sex life, nor would I have chosen to do it if I had been with a man. After all, I didn't hide it from my family or friends. Everyone is free to think what they want, but I am only accountable to my Lord,” she says.
Moreover, it is this way of seeing things that allows him to continue to visit traditional mosques. “I think that some people in the mosque in my neighborhood know that I am Queer, but no one paid attention to it. Especially since I have already brought my ex-girlfriend with me several times,” she explains. For Sharifa, spaces Queers and Muslims are still his favorite places. “Before, there was no space Queer and muslim. There are more and more virtual places that I frequent, she says. Now, there are a few in-person events. I met a lot of friends on the occasion ofIftars, ofAïds and other Muslim celebrations Queers. I so love these spaces where I don't have to choose between my identities; I feel like myself, I feel at home! ” exclaims Sharifa in a happy tone and smiling softly.
“I would like there to be spaces dedicated to Muslims Queers, and even a mosque that would welcome everyone. Everyone deserves the right to feel whole and safe — without compromise.”
The night is slowly unfolding as the last prayer of the day begins. Sharifa and her children follow in the footsteps of her friend who guides them in prayer by reciting one surah after another. She reaffirms her faith in the face of Western Islamophobia and in the face of homophobia within the Muslim community itself, one prayer at a time.
A gay man of color and Muslim CAN experience happiness
Nofel, a young Arab-Canadian of Libyan origin, proudly assumes his identity as an openly gay Muslim man. However, his happiness is often criticized. “It often happens that, when I reveal my identity as a gay Muslim, people don't understand that a colored man is gay and can feel joy. They then ask me why I express my satisfaction in being a Muslim so openly, as if I were boasting about a particularity that is not well regarded by everyone,” he explains.
The poet points out that this misunderstanding is evident in all spaces. Queers, including in the spaces Queers Muslims. “In the experience of homosexuality, suffering is often established as an identity, as a culture in its own right. People don't recognize that a gay man of color and Muslim can be happy. It is disheartening to note that the collective imagination has not yet incorporated the possibility of joy among Muslims who also identify as persons. Queers racialized,” he said in a sad tone.
Nofel has never had to compromise between her sexuality and her religion. “I grew up in Libya, and religion has always been there. The issue of sex has never been addressed, at least not in my circle of acquaintances, whether it is heterosexuality or homosexuality. So I never learned that homosexuality was a sin,” reports the 25-year-old. He says that when he realized he was gay, he was so happy that he told everyone around him. “I don't like to say that my family accepted my homosexuality. For me, there is nothing to accept: I am who I am, that's all. There is no room for negotiation,” he said with a smile and a confident look.
The mosque is a place where love exists
The young man evokes a common reasoning within queer Muslim communities: “Even if we are rejected at the mosque, we will create our own spaces.” However, this raises the question of who, exactly, rejects them at the mosque. “In my experience, I did not experience this rejection. This obviously does not mean that he does not exist.” According to him, many gay Muslims distance themselves from their religious identity due to rumours and negative stereotypes. “This self-exclusion must be deconstructed,” he said.
He shares his romantic experience in Muslim places of worship. “During a Iftar Queer, I met a man on the prayer carpet. We only went out together for a few weeks, all of our appointments took place in mosques. We were welcomed with open arms every time. You could say that we were not an openly gay couple, but rather two close friends at the mosque, especially since, in Arab culture, men can be affectionate to each other without being considered romantic. This, of course, does not in any way exclude the possibility of love in the mosque. The very fact that we were there shows that the mosque is a place where love exists and will continue to exist,” the Muslim said.
“We have a lot of power”
Momin Rahman, a sociology professor at Trent University, has been studying the experiences of gay Muslims in Canada for 16 years. As a gay man, culturally Muslim and of Bengali origin, he became interested in this subject from a representative perspective.
“It is important to understand that the experience of Muslims Queers is complex and diverse. Rather than considering this community as a minority within a minority, it must be viewed in an intersectional way,” he declares at the outset.
Professor Rahman shares the results of his latest research with La Converse, highlighting in particular the many challenges that LGBTIQ2S+ Muslims face. “They often face barriers related to their families and ethno-religious communities, as well as a lack of support from organizations. Queers western ones. Many are afraid to do their Coming Out because of the potential antipathy of their family and community. They are also afraid of the lack of support from the community, which leaves LGBTIQ2S+ people and their families without a safety net.”
Rahman, like Sharifa, also noted that, for many members of Muslim communities, homosexuality is seen as a Western identity and way of life, creating additional tensions. He explains that “this is the result of a lack of information. In reality, several Muslim cultures have a history of gender and sexual diversity, but this is unknown because of Western propaganda, which claims to be Queerness”.
In addition, racialization is harmful to the acceptance of Muslims. Queers by Westerners, which complicates the situation. “Not having the support of their ethno-religious community affects queer Muslims in terms of mental well-being,” he said.
According to the sociologist, several participants in his study say they are experiencing profound alienation. “Many have lost the space they need to express the Islamophobia and xenophobia they are experiencing. They feel abandoned and isolated. Some people suffer great pain during collective holidays and religious ceremonies such as Ramadan and Eid.”
If some LGBTIQ2S+ Muslims choose to do their Coming Out, others practice the” Coming In ” because sexuality is considered a private matter in their culture. “However, because they are discreet, they are deemed to be insufficiently demonstrative by the Western Front, which associates homosexuality with a public exhibition of sexuality,” explains Mr. Rahman.
Despite these difficulties, and as some abandon religion because it becomes too heavy a burden, many LGBTIQ2S+ Muslims insist on reconciling their Muslim identities and Queer by interpreting Islamic texts in such a way as to adapt them to their understanding.
“Including ourselves with our full identity means avoiding a large set of social problems. As Muslims Queers, we have a lot of power,” he says, stepping away from his role as a teacher with a big smile.
Unity Mosque
Sharifa fervently wants another space like the Unity Mosque/el-tawhid Juma Circle to see the light of day in Montreal. Since its establishment in 2009 in Toronto, this mosque has promoted gender equality, recognized LGBTIQ2S+ people, and provided voice and leadership to marginalized people, all while ensuring their safety by keeping the mosque's location confidential. Co-founder of this mosque, Imam El-Farouk Khaki explains that this project was born out of a personal necessity: “A large part of my activism consists in finding spaces where I can be myself, without having to hide my political beliefs, my sexual orientation, my values and my spirituality.”
Initially, El-Farouk Khaki was not an imam, but after the establishment of the Unity Mosque, several members of the community sought his appointment. “The community Queer and trans Muslims had needs that were not taken into account,” explains the gay man, who is also the founder of Salam, the first gay Muslim group in Canada. In this respect, he cites religious marriage in particular (Nikah) for people of the same sex, which requires the presence of an imam and legal recognition to be formalized. He insists on the fact that at his mosque, “equality prevails, there is no hierarchy, no power relationship, anyone can deliver a sermon and lead a prayer.” Then, he adds, “The title of imam is just a formality; it does not necessarily come with authority.”
In addition, his work as a refugee lawyer has shed light on how people are dehumanized and how religion is used as a weapon against different types of people, not just against their sexual orientation. “I have witnessed the trauma, distress, and suicidal ideation that comes from the instrumentalization of religion.” Her activism, combined with her faith, gave her the motivation to create a safe and inclusive space for all people, whether within his religious community or elsewhere.
” Ar Rahman, Ar Rahim ”
As the blessed month of Ramadan comes to an end, the Imam extends a helping hand and offers comforting and inspiring words to those who, in the face of adversity, continue to persevere in their religious practice.
“Islam is a journey, not a destination to be reached in a hurry. The Quran was revealed to the Prophet over a period of 23 years, so let patience be your guide. Not everything needs to make sense immediately. In Islam, there is no original sin. Instead, we are born into oblivion. Remember to be gentle with yourself. We have the unique ability to choose and better understand our perception of God. As we deepen our faith, we discover that Allah frequently presents himself as “Rahman” and “Rahim,” two of the Creator's favorite conceptualizations. These Arabic words, which come from the expression “mother's womb,” involve the same profound sense of compassion and care that a mother can feel for her child. Community is vital on this journey, as we are not alone in this quest. Whether in person or online, find people who support and encourage you. Salam and Eid Mubarak”, concludes Imam El-Farouk Khaki.
In the peaceful night sky, a new moon gratifies us with its presence, signaling the arrival of Eid El-Fitr. Sharifa welcomes her friends joyfully, while Nofel enjoys the festivities with her companions. While the spirit of camaraderie fills the air in Montreal, the Unity Mosque in Toronto opens its doors to host a major inclusive celebration to mark the end of this month of Ramadan.
*First names have been changed for reasons of confidentiality.
**Among Muslims, theIftar is the evening meal during Ramadan when they break their fast.