What’s it like to be queer and Muslim? Let this photographer show you

Samra Habib, a queer Muslim photographer, has been travelling through North America and Europe to take the portraits of LGBT Muslims willing to share their life stories and desire for connection.

Shazad, Toronto

I was born in St Albert, Alberta, Canada. I grew up with a lot of extended family around me. We were semi-religious but everyone fasted during Ramadan and we all celebrated Eid. My parents divorced when I was 11 and that’s when my family dynamics changed. My mom raised me and my sister and did the best she could. She believed in God and taught me how to pray Namaaz but never forced us to be religious. She believed that just because you follow the five pillars of Islam, it doesn’t automatically mean that you’re a good person. Having a heart trumps being religious.

During my parents’ divorce, I tried to cling to Islam because I felt scared and conflicted. I thought I was a bad person and would go to hell for being gay and that coming out would stress my mom out even more. This continued until I learned about reconciling my sexuality with my religious beliefs in university. I stopped being scared. It didn’t make sense to me that I would burn in hell for loving a man.

It wasn’t until I moved to Toronto after graduation and was living on my own that my relationship with God changed from being based on fear to being based on love. Moving allowed me to reconcile my faith, South Asian culture and sexuality through community building by creating a chosen family.

Christelle, Paris

People question how I can be queer and Muslim or why I don’t have a Muslim sounding name or don’t cover myself. I’ve even been asked how I can be black and Muslim because of how Arabs treated Africans during the Arab slave trade. People want you to think your whole identity is haram but hey, it’s just between me and Allah.

I grew up in a family that is half evangelical Christian and half Sunni Muslim. Some of my non-Muslim family is really Islamophobic. My Muslim family members had to practice Islam secretly because they didn’t want to be rejected by my non-Muslim family members. I recently saw some of my family members after 15 years because they didn’t want to have anything to do with us.

I’ve only felt ready to come out to the Muslim side of my family, not the Christian side. What made me feel ready was how the Muslims in my family express their tolerance towards queer and trans folks. I’m glad that I finally came out because they accepted me.

Growing up in Paris as a teen, I felt lonely for a very long time. I feel part of the black community and the black womanhood community but I don’t feel part of the LGBT community in Paris because it’s really, really white, mainstream and dismissive of non-conforming genders and other sexualities.

El-Farouk Khaki, founder of Salaam Canada and co-founder of Unity Mosque

I was born in Tanzania. We fled because of my father’s rebel-rousing political profile. We lived in England for three years and came to Canada in March of 1974. My mum did not like the snow or the concrete of Toronto, preferring the blooming flowers that greeted us in Vancouver, BC. My father was a committed humanist and activist. The Islam they taught me was one of justice and love that embraced diversity and liberation. It was an Islam heavily influenced by a variety of Muslim traditions especially Sufism.

One of the things that’s happened in Islam, especially post-oil and post-Iranian revolution is that Islam has been reduced on many levels to a simple list of dos and don’ts. It’s devoid of any spirituality or any intimacy with the creator. LGBT people have always been around. The fact is that gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender folks have always been accepted into Muslim societies. It wasn’t a question of whether they were Muslim, it was more about whether they were transgressive. Today, people’s Muslim identities are being denied and robbed, taken away from them.

I practice refugee and immigration law. These days, my clients are mostly refugees. The majority of my clients are LGBTIQ people fleeing persecution. I also represent many women fleeing gender and domestic violence. About 20% of my clients are HIV positive and fear stigma and discrimination in their countries of citizenship as a result.

When I started Salaam (Queer Muslim community of Canada) back in 1991, it was about trying to create a community space. In those days, I don’t think I was ready to reclaim a religious space but it became apparent to me that there was a need for it. Six years ago, my partner Troy Jackson, Laury Silvers and I decided to start a Friday mosque space with the intention that it would become more than a Friday space and it would be beyond Toronto. Which is what’s happening: we have seven active communities.

What’s really significant is the fact that we have triggered people’s imagination with the notion of an inclusive mosque space that’s gender equal and queer affirming. It’s a place that doesn’t ask you if you’re a Muslim or what kind of Muslim you are. Where everybody is welcome. People are embraced in the fullness of their authenticity.

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/jun/15/queer-muslims-samra-habib-portraits-just-me-and-allah