Multiracial People Value Positive Identification More Than Others

inkomazi:

They had to do a study to realize this? Of course we mixed people “place more value on being correctly identified than people of a single race.” Every time we’re misidentified it feels like a judgment, especially when it’s by someone with whom we share an ethnicity. It’s like being told, “Oh, you’re not really one of us.”

Originally posted on Mixed American Life:

See on Scoop.itMixed American Life

The number of people who identify as multiracial has increased by the millions in the last decade. Not only are those people often misidentified as white, black or Latino, but they also place more value on being correctly identified than people of a single race, according to new research presented at the American Psychological Association’s annual convention on Friday…

See on www.usnews.com

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To My Brothers, With Love

In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful

“What do you do all day?”

“Why aren’t those dishes washed?”

“Why haven’t you wiped the toothpaste off of the bathroom mirror?”

     What do these questions have in common? They’re all the kind of question the prophet (upon whom be peace and blessings) never asked of his servant, and certainly never even thought of asking any of his wives. (To be fair, he didn’t have a bathroom mirror or toothpaste, but I think that little fact can be overlooked for purposes of this discussion). They have another thing in common as well: many a Muslim woman has heard some variation of the above from her Muslim husband who believes that his contribution to family life is limited to earning a wage and ensuring that the women in his life do nothing but cook and clean all day.

     Now let’s think about this for a moment. Firstly, as has been mentioned above, the prophet of Allah, (surely a nobler man than any of our husbands, and therefore a worthier man of service) was kinder and gentler to his actual servant than too many men are to their wives. Secondly, as every Muslim man must be aware of by now, (because we women are constantly reminding you), the same prophet also did housework, sweeping and mending his own clothes. And it’s not as if he couldn’t find a woman to do these things for him. Don’t forget, he had nine wives and four daughters. Surely, if it were the duty of a Muslim woman to be the unpaid servant in her home none of those thirteen women would ever have allowed him to even touch a broom, let alone use it.

     Now some men will say, “Oh, I’m not him, and these days things are different.” Absolutely. He had nine houses, which is to say nine little rooms, almost no possessions, no bathroom, and practically nothing in the way of a kitchen. What are you asking your one wife to clean all by herself? Two bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom, livingroom, hallway, all the laundry, and maybe even the yard and car? And when you’ve come home after a long day’s work, are you putting your feet up while you watch her bustle around behind you, the house, and the children? Are you asking her to bring you things, like a nice cold glass of water, a hot cup of tea, or a homemade TV dinner? Are you then asking her why the children aren’t in bed? Or why there’s toothpaste on the bathroom mirror? Or what she’s been doing all day?

     Allow me to tell you what she’s been doing all day. She’s been cooking. She’s been cleaning. She’s been doing laundry. She’s been keeping the children from electrocuting themselves, setting themselves on fire, throwing all the flour in the house all over the kitchen floor so they can draw in it, beating each other to a pulp, breaking everything you own, destroying every scrap of paper in your home, drowning in the bathtub, cracking their tiny skulls open, and every other disaster that didn’t happen today. She’s also been cleaning up after some of the disasters she just wasn’t quick enough to prevent. And all that while, she was just dying for you to come home so that she could have just a few minutes of conversation with another adult, and maybe a little help preventing the next disaster the little people have cooking.

     So the next time you come home after a long day’s work, don’t just put your feet up, order some food and drink from your wife, and watch complacently as her work day continues around you. Help. This is your house too. The two of you have more housework than the prophet and his wives did, and less help. Show her that you see her struggles, and lift as much of the burden from her as you can. After all, didn’t Allah give the broader shoulders to you?

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Niqab, Burqa & The Question of Choice

Niqab, Burqa & The Question of Choice.

She makes so many good points, not least of which is, “There are also many women coming from Muslim families who choose to wear the niqab as an act of devotion to their Creator: an act that helps them concentrate on their spiritual and inward journey. In fact, sometimes, their parents or husbands refuse to let them wear the niqab and they will have a hard time persuading their parents or husbands to respect their choice. It does really offend these women when you pass by them and comment: ‘Poor woman! Her husband has forced her to wear it.’”

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Thank You

In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful

About a week ago, my sister’s mother-in-law wanted to visit a friend of hers. She described the location of the house; I had some idea of how to get there; and so we set out for a neighborhood that’s about five streets away from my house, lightyears away from my life. When we got there she said she wouldn’t be long, and I, fortified by enough reading material to last me three days at least, said I’d wait. After about an hour, auntie realized that she’d left her purse with me, and not wishing to make her wander around looking for me, I decided to wander around in search of her.

I got out of the car, headed down the street, exchanged hellos with the couple whose porch I passed, said hello to the next person I saw, got no response, and said to myself, “why are white people always so unfriendly?!” I continued down the street; found auntie; all the while thinking about what a suspicious character I might seem to be, dressed so differently from anyone who lived on this quiet side-street inhabited by the latest wave of European immigrants; (I often think when they stare at me that while they may look more like the rest of this country, I’m actually from here, (or as from here as you can be without having ancestors who may or may not have crossed a land bridge to get here). I have yet to follow this thought anywhere interesting…maybe you could?)

Back to my story. On finding auntie I handed her her bag, said hello to her friend, and headed back up the street. On the way, I noticed some interesting flowers which I’d never seen before. I stopped to admire them; wished I knew their name; and then continued on to the next house, where the unfriendly white man was sitting. He leaned a little forward to get a better look at me, but still said nothing. So I decided to initiate the conversation by telling him that his neighbors had a pretty front garden, and that he did as well. He continued to look at me blankly. Finally, he responded.

“No English.”

“Thank God!” I said inwardly, “It’s not one more dehumanizing experience at the hands of white people, after all.”

Next I felt ashamed. The poor guy had left his house and home; found a nice little neighborhood where everybody in a three block radius spoke his language; and here was I, venturing into his island of non-America, speaking at him incomprehensibly, and then judging him for not responding in a way that would be pleasing to me. White people aren’t always rude and unfriendly. Sometimes they just can’t speak English. So I indicated his garden, looked at him, gave him a thumbs up, and got two more English words out of him,

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” and I continued to my car in a much better frame of mind, but still a little upset because of previous experiences of white Americans who speak English as a first (and often only) language who have made me feel like a bug in my own home. I came back to the couple I’d first passed on my way to auntie, and this time they struck up a conversation with me, and for the first time in the fourteen years I’ve been covering my face, the woman asked me an interesting question, “How long does it take you to put that on?” They saw me as human, and in doing so, reminded me that they were too. I chatted with them for a couple of minutes, and when we wished each other a nice day as I headed back to my car, I almost said to them, “Thank you,” but then I thought that maybe it’s insulting to thank a person for being civil, so I decided against it. So I’m thanking them now. As well as everyone else who’s ever brightened my day by simply treating me like a human being when so many have not. Thank you. Thank you all. You don’t know what a difference you make.

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life to the full…

inkomazi:

I’m going to live too! Do all the things I’ve always wanted to do, and stop waiting for that perfect someone to do them with, in shaa Allah.

Originally posted on desireunleashed:

We finally were all able to come together at about 7pm. It was New Years Day and none of the plans that has been made earlier in the day had succeeded, but I couldn’t help having an excitement for returning to the cliffs that I had visited a couple days earlier.

My two friends and I climbed in the car and headed to the beach. It seemed a little insensible since the sun had already gone down, but none the less seeing the beach at night would be fun too.

We drove just south of Oceanside, CA to Carlsbad. It was a little colder than it had been the last couple of days and I had left my boots and jacket back at the house not really thinking I would be cold.

The cliffs are all sand and they are gorgeous (the picture is a real picture I took there…

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To Hijab or Not to Hijab

To Hijab or Not to Hijab.

An oppressed Muslim woman may well be bareheaded.

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The High Cost Of Low Price (4/3/13)

inkomazi:

“All too often my wallet and my apathy end up taking the lead on how I am spending God’s money.” Love it!

Originally posted on :

Read: Deuteronomy 23:1-25:19, Luke 10:13-37, Psalm 75:1-10, Proverbs 12:12-14

Never take advantage of poor and destitute laborers, whether they are fellow Israelites or foreigners living in your towns.
(Deuteronomy 24:14)

Wal-Mart-The-High-Cost-Of-Low-Price-Documentary

Relate: I know, the picture and the title are a bit provocative. For those that don’t get it, there was a documentary done about 8 years ago with that title talking about the various ways Wal Mart exploits its workers both in the US and internationally in order to force down low prices and force out small businesses. I never did see the movie, I lived it. For about 3 months I was employed by Wal Mart a decade or so back. They wouldn’t let me have a week off to work at a Christian camp so I quit. Best thing I ever did.

React: I do, however, feel like a bit of a hypocrite even writing that last paragraph…

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