This write-up was originally posted by London Queer Muslims, the UK’s First Zikir and Theology Group Run for and by Queer Muslims. I stumbled upon this article while looking up for some resources on ashura, which is most well-known as a day of mourning the martyrdom of Hussain ibn Ali, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). Though this day of mourning will not be happening until September, the devotional and theological content in this write-up felt important to share, so I immediately asked for permission to do so from the London Queer Muslims group. Kindly, they said sharing would be lovely.

In September 2018, London Queer Muslims gathered in our usual Turkish

vegetarian cafe to perform ijtihad, our practical queer Islamic theology workshops.

This week was a little different from our usual dissection of Islamic doctrine and

practice, as it was the last session before the sacred month of Muharram, during

which Shi’i Muslims mourn the tragedy of Karbala on Ashura, 10th Muharram.

We read the story of the events as a group, going round taking turns to read aloud,

all the sexes involved and with no one “mullah” figure looming over us narrating

the story to us. That is one of the essential elements of our group, a salient

characteristic that allows everyone present to be part of the process.

As we were reading we were accompanied by the backdrop of chatting from other

tables and the occasional airplane or train overhead, which we decided not to try

and edit out of our audio recording, in the name of authenticity. The Queer Majlis is

not held in a hussainiya or in a mosque, rather our majlis is wherever we can find

space, be it a vegetarian cafe garden or a HIV support centre, or the living room of

a member of the group, because to be a queer muslim is to do religion DIY and not

rely on the hegemonic spaces of our mainstreamed faith or LGBT communities.

After reading we split up in pairs to examine each of the key themes of the story

that we had identified; the first fitna, protecting one’s opposers, the breaking of

contracts, bribery, coercion, wealth & nepotism vs faith & spirituality, moral choice,

the holy city as a refuge, denial of basic human rights, and the leadership of

women. We were to discuss what parallels there are with contemporary times and

what the historical narrative speaks to our current conditions.

What emerged was a powerful dialogue about power and hegemony, hetero and

normativity, queerphobia, real life oppression, the plight of Palestinians, a critique

of monarchy and capitalism and a comparison between Mu’awiyah and the

Saudis. One person likened LQM to an embassy, a place where we can co-exist

and not hide in a corner. The importance of standing up for ourselves without the

expectation of “winning” and being on the right side of history was a key theme as

was the observation that we are battling against the normativising of our bodies

and sexual identities against the dominant majority, be that dyadic sexed people,

heterosexuality of women among gay men. We ended this section by expanding

on the theme of the hegemony of men in queer spaces, noting that women are

usually in the minority, often failing to not “man-speak” the men were redeemed by

their awareness, something many men lack.

In the second part of the day we split up again to do a workshop on identifying the

Yazids and Hussains of our current lives, being encouraged to tap into our

emotions whilst doing so, Muharram is not known for its subdued atmosphere by

any means.

What emerged was an emotive mix of life stories, here is a snapshot:

The Yazid in my life is that part of young Muslims that is queerphobic.

The Yazid in my life is capitalism.

The Yazid in my life is the fake ally who doesn’t speak up for me.

The Yazid in my life is the family of my ex who led him to his death..

The Yazid in my life is myself at times, my struggle with depression and my

self effacing thoughts.

The Yazid in my life is my mother who often denies me my basic right to

family.

The Yazid in my life is the date who uses racist & islamophobic words

around me and accuses me of being dramatic for calling him out.

The Yazid in my life is the friend who doesn’t accept me despite knowing me

so well.

My Yazid is the healthcare system that cut my body open to normalise my

sex without my consent.

The Yazid in my life is the parent who doesn’t want me to be myself.

The Yazid in my life is the part of the LGBT community that doesn’t allow me

to be whole and Muslim.

La’natullah ‘ala zzâlimin! May Allah withdraw Their favour from the Oppressors!

My Hussain is everyone at LQM

My Hussain is my mother who supported me and took my side when I came

out

My Hussain is the support I give myself

My Hussain is my parents and friends who listen to me and help me recover

My Hussain is Drag Race, because they teach us how to be comfortable in

our skin despite gender norms

My Hussain is those who express their gender however they want to

My Hussain is my ex who was a campaigner for HIV awareness

My Hussain is the Intersex rights movement who campaign without personal

gain and even lose income in the process

My Hussain is the friends who help me to be myself and express my Muslim

identity in public spaces, despite being fearful of islamophobia

My Hussain is the friend that tells me I don’t need to apologise for expressing

my pain

Labaik Ya Hussain! We are here Oh Hussain!

Allahumma sali ‘ala ma yastas’ibuni! May Allah bless those with whom I struggle!

We then read a Ziyarah (visitation) on Hazrat Zainab, after hearing part of her

powerful speech to Yazid in the court at Damascus after she and the family of the

Prophet were captured:

السَلَمُعَلَيْكِ يا أَسيرَةً بِأيْدي العْداءِ في الفَلواتِ وَرَأيْتِ أهْلِ الشّامِ في حَالَةِ العَيشِ والسُرورِ وَنشْرِ الرّاياتِ

“Peace be upon you who had to be imprisoned by the enemies under an open sky,

and had to see people of Syria celebrate (the martyrdom of her brother) with

pleasure, joy, and raised flags!”

We ended the workshop with some practical liturgy creation, a Du’a for the

protection of Queer people created by everyone present:

اللهم أنزل على عبادك اللنمطيي الحياء منهم بيننا و الموات السكينة و السلم، و على كل من آزرهم و شهد

ً مبينا

لهم، اللهم أحلل علينا و عليهم الرحمة و افتح لنا باب الدنو إلى ذاتك فتحا

اللهال

Allâhumma anzil ‘alâ ibâdika al-lâ-namatiyîn al-ahyâ minhom baynana wal amwat

as-sakînata was-salâm, wa ‘alâ kulli man âzarahum wa shahîda lahum. Allâhumma

ahlil alayna wa alayhim ar-rahmata waftah lanâ bâb al dunuwwi ila thatikâ fat-han

mubîna. Allahallah

O’ Allah, lay upon your queer creations, those who are living among us and those

who have passed, content and peace, and upon all those who stood by them and

witnessed for them. O’ Allah lay upon us and upon them mercy and open for us the

gate of humility towards your identity, a graceful opening.

Allahallah