Ex-Muslim Women Forum on Former Muslim Women

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2024/09/16

Aysha Khan, Jasmin Faulk-Dickerson, Khadija Khan, and ‘Mia,’ are former Muslim women. In an extensive conversation, we discuss the thematic question: “With more ex-Muslim women becoming prominent and equalizing the gender space of ex-Muslim voices, would an organization or foundation for ex-Muslim women be useful?”

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Let’s start with introductions. Please go ahead alphabetically.

Aysha Khan: My name is Aysha, and I am the Director of Operations for Ex-Muslims of North America (EXMNA). I left Islam about ten years ago, though I had constantly been questioning it. I was fortunate enough to discover the Ex-Muslim subreddit, which opened the doors for me — not only in my journey to apostasy but also in finding a community of other apostates from Islam and owning that identity.

I had always struggled with the role that women are prescribed in Islam, and it never aligned with how I lived my life in the U.S. The rights afforded to me under the U.S. Constitution starkly contrasted with what Islam demanded of me. It never made sense to me.

Gradually, I started dissecting Islam. I tried hard to make it work for me, but it never did. After finding ex-Muslims in North America, I volunteered with them for several years. About a year ago, I entered this full-time role as Director of Operations. I’m so happy to be part of a community of other women. It feels like finding your people.

Many of the people I followed out of religion were men, so finding other former Muslim women has been life-changing for me. Thank you all for being here.

Jasmin Faulk-Dickerson: My name is Jasmin Faulk-Dickerson. I am a speaker and an author. In my other professional life, I am a Director of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), a challenging field right now, given the current political climate. I’m happy to speak more about that.

I was born and raised in Saudi Arabia, where I wasn’t given a choice to practice religion. Saudi citizens are born Muslim automatically. I’m not sure if that practice still holds, but when I was born in the early seventies, all Saudi citizens were raised as Muslims by default.

I am the product of an Arabian father and an Italian mother, so I have a Western mom and a Middle Eastern dad. I was raised in Saudi Arabia, where there was no conversation about choosing religion or exploring faith. From an early age, I noticed a disconnect because I had the opportunity to visit Italy every year and observe how religion played a significant role in people’s lives — being in a Roman Catholic country on one side and a Muslim country on the other.

I saw how women and girls were treated and how young women came into womanhood. For me, it always felt like a disconnect. So, while I say I was raised Muslim, it was never really a choice. That’s one of the reasons I don’t use labels like “ex-Muslim” or “former Muslim.” It doesn’t speak to my journey because I didn’t choose it.

As I grew older, I made distinct decisions to understand Islam, as I was raised in it and had to study it. But I also wanted to explore other faiths to understand how they all intertwined. Over the years, I decided that religion as a whole was not for me. I don’t practice any particular faith — not out of disdain or disrespect, but because it does not suit my journey in life.

It has been a journey of deconstructing religion, how people interpret it, how they choose to live their lives, and how it intertwines with governments and political rule. It’s interesting because I’ve been in the United States for 25 years, for most of my adult life. I’ve spoken more about the cultural aspect of my identity. In recent years, I’ve noticed that Muslim women, in particular, have started speaking out more about religion and its impact on them.

I want to support that voice and that experience because I was raised in the most radical Wahhabi country in the world, so I am all too familiar with the depth of the impositions of such a rule. I’ll share more later, but that’s an introduction.

Khadija Khan: My name is Khadija Khan. I’m a journalist and broadcaster. I am also an editor at A Further Inquiry, a Canadian-based magazine. My journey started back in Pakistan.

I was a very religious person for most of my life. I was brainwashed and conditioned into practicing Islamic rituals and beliefs. Many in the West can relate to the situation we have in Pakistan, where common, ordinary people are not well-educated about religion. Mostly, they are given cherry-picked examples and selective education that make them believe theirs is the best religion, their God is the best, and so on. I was raised the same way. At first, it was hard to question religion.

However, my questions about injustices and women’s rights violations in Muslim culture were always there. I wanted to raise those questions and find answers but was discouraged. I wasn’t allowed to explore that area, so I was led to believe it was all about cultural issues, not religion.

I started looking at these issues through the lens of patriarchy and cultural misogyny. But when I had the opportunity to move out of Pakistan, that’s when I began to consider the possibility that maybe it was religion. Why not talk about religion and religious beliefs, which are very much part of the culture?

Is it possible that culture and religion are the same thing and that we are making a false distinction between them? That’swhen I started exploring this area further. My curiosity led me to a place where I realized the root of the problem lies in religion — specifically, the religious beliefs, orthodoxies, rituals, and traditions that are causing these problems, especially women’s rights violations. The natural outcome for me was to abandon that religion.

As Jasmin said, it was never a choice. I was never given a choice to be a Muslim, so maybe I wasn’t a Muslim. It felt more like a condition imposed on me. When it came to abandoning religion, it wasn’t difficult for me. I was not emotionally invested in the religion or religious sentiments. For me, it wasn’t a big deal. The realization that I needed to speak up for women’s and minority rights was much more powerful. It made me grow stronger in my beliefs about secularism, human rights, and humane values. That’s how my journey began.

‘Mia’: It’s affirming to hear all of your stories because I connect to each of them in different ways. As Aysha said, being part of this community and this discussion is nice, so thank you.

Yes, some of the themes you’ve all touched upon also resonate with me. I was brought up as a North African, Middle Eastern woman exposed to Middle Eastern culture where Islam is deeply intertwined. For me, many inconsistencies became apparent.

I was disillusioned with how my experience as a Muslim woman differed from that of my Muslim male counterparts. That’s where it started for me — seeing those inconsistencies. It was always a source of tension, and when I tried to bring it up, I was often shut down, told I was being blasphemous and that my questions were inappropriate.

I struggled with that for a long time until I encountered other Middle Eastern women at university. I felt safe enough to disclose some of this, knowing there would be no consequences.

It wouldn’t go any further, and she shared some literature with me and said, “I’m not going to say anything. I’m here for you. Read this, and it will give you some answers.” I did, and it felt like someone had placed glasses on my eyes. It was very clear that it was okay to question these things.

I’m incredibly grateful for that exposure. It changed my life.

Jacobsen: To be clear on the transcript, the thematic question for today is:

With more ex-Muslim women becoming prominent and equalizing the gender space of ex-Muslim voices, would an organization or foundation for ex-Muslim women be useful? If not, why not? If so, what would be the most useful scope and organizational setup catering to ex-Muslim women’s professional and community needs?

With those backgrounds, anyone can go first. What are your initial thoughts about such an organization? As some noted, many men typically represented or were the faces of these movements, organizations, or individual voices, especially in the 2000s and 2010s. Jasmin, what do you think?

Faulk-Dickerson: This is a tough question. I’ll rant for a few seconds, and then please interrupt me and jump in, anyone. It may still be premature. Here’s why: Most of us were raised to believe that if you speak against the religion or leave it, the number one consequence is essentially death. Maybe everyone agrees, or perhaps everyone had the same upbringing, where it is justified by religious practice that death is the consequence of leaving the religion.

So the jump from slowly collecting voices, especially for women, to organizing something more structured comes with risks. Power is in numbers; when those numbers grow vast, there’s more courage to speak up. But I worry about being targeted. By speaking out, I’m putting myself out there as a target. When organizations or collectives form, they automatically become targets. That’s the first concern.

The second concern is that when you leave an ideology and form a second ideology, for me — and I know this may not be true for everyone — it can lead to another cycle of mob mentality, new ideology, and aggressive thinking. The greatest freedom and liberation come from not feeling the need to justify, explain, or align. We’re all doing it here because, unfortunately, there are firsts — people who must start speaking out. And here we are. Someone has to start.

But once the movement gains momentum and takes on a life of its own, it can create the freedom to normalize it. That’sthe goal for me — to normalize this. We don’t see this for other religions, where a movement has to happen for people to speak on behalf of it, yet here we are. I hope we get to a point where that’s no longer necessary.

Jacobsen: Any responses?

K. Khan: Yes. When I became an ex-Muslim, I didn’t realize there was a huge community. I was in Germany, and Germany is quite isolated in this regard. There isn’t a big ex-Muslim community. It could be a more vibrant discussion in German society.

There needed to be a community. I knew some people had abandoned Islam for various but valid reasons. But when I got involved with people in the U.K., especially the Council of Ex-Muslims (of Britain), I realized there is a community, and people are coming together to amplify this criticism of religion. It was quite heartening to see that. I became a part of their efforts.

I’ve been attending events and participating in discussions with them since then. It’s been a good experience, but there needs to be more of a sense of community when it comes to the dominant voices in the ex-Muslim circle. Not all dominant voices in the ex-Muslim community want to connect with ordinary ex-Muslims. For them, they are the face of the ex-Muslim movement. They are quite individualistic. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ve noticed this.

These individuals are not interested in allying with others. It’s more like, “I can speak the best. I’m on the forefront.” I don’t mind it, but there’s a lack of association. That’s the reason we don’t see an organized community of ex-Muslims; instead, we see individual men being prominent in the mainstream discussions around these issues.

I’ve noticed some arguments, even catfights, on social media among them. They argue about their number of followers:“You have fewer followers; I have more. I have more experience; you have less. I was an ex-Muslim before you were.” It was like, “Wow, this is not our concern.” We all have individual personalities.

Today, I got to know these wonderful people — these three women — and I’m so glad to know you all. I feel honoured to be connected with you. Thank you so much, Scott, for giving me this opportunity. But it’s disappointing that we don’thave this kind of unity.

I’ve been working with Mariam Namazie here in the U.K. I see a sense of belonging in the efforts she and the people around her are making here. They organize with counterparts in other countries, host events, invite people, bring them together, and have discussions.

We need more of this; perhaps there is a real community. But as it stands now, it’s a community united in protest but not in identity, in my opinion.

Jacobsen: Aysha, did you want to say something?

A. Khan: Yes, this is a question I’ve been grappling with since you first brought it up, Scott, when we spoke a few weeks back. I don’t know if it’s needed. What I mean by that is, when I left Islam or when I was questioning it — I’m in my forties now — there was a 15-year period where I tried to make Islam work. Back then, it would have made sense for me. But now, what I’m seeing with the younger generation, people in their teens and twenties, is that they feel more comfortable being cafeteria Muslims, secular Muslims, or even Muslim atheists.

They’re living in a much more porous space than I was. They can express viewpoints that differ from mainstream Islam. I have younger relatives who can express viewpoints I would never have been allowed to express when I was younger. I see many of my younger family members dressing in ways I would never have been allowed.

The culture has loosened a bit. It’s not quite as shocking to the system. You can exist in this gray area, and the margins of that gray area have become much wider. So, it’s entirely necessary to carve out a space specifically for ex-Muslims. But with the caveat, a lot has changed in the past 15 years, especially post-9/11.

Khadija, your point about separating the culture from the religion is important, especially for South Asians or Arabs, where culture is often paramount.

Everything in Islam supersedes culture, tradition, and everything else. So, for us, it’s a bit different. I feel like there has been a rebranding of Islam, particularly with the rise of “feminist Islam,” which I find truly bizarre.

The rebranding of the hijab as a feminist is especially perplexing — it’s just not what it is. Read the texts. So, I feel like if we kept the scope tight and focused on creating a counter-narrative to ideas like “Islam as feminist,” “Muhammad was the first feminist,” or “the hijab is feminist.” We would have some traction, some ground, some legitimacy — something we could sink our teeth into.

However, it could be challenging. I see this with EXMNA, where we try to keep the scope tight. We’ve talked about this, and scope creep is an issue. We try not to bleed into other areas; we’re nonpartisan and don’t let people take advantage of us or others. So that would be my one hesitation. If an organization did exist, it would have to be very specific about what it targets within Islam.

‘Mia’: As you asked initially, I struggled to hear. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Thinking back to when that might have been helpful for me when I first “came out,” I would have been quite fearful of being outed if you like. I found speaking with people I could see and knew would have my back more comfortable. I would like to know if it would have been helpful for me then.

I also agree with Aysha’s point that if such an organization existed, it would need to be specific, with a particular niche, agenda, and viewpoint. That would be my two cents.

K. Khan: There are young people, young women, and young girls who are denying or denouncing religion — in this case, Islam. As I mentioned, I went to an event and saw a packed room of youngsters.

These people, especially at that stage, were looking up to something. They wanted to see some role models. I’m not saying there must be an organization because when I became an ex-Muslim, there was no organization I was aware of. I wasn’t looking up to anyone else. It was my struggle. Thankfully, I was in a position where I could openly say, “I don’twant to follow this religion.” That’s it.

But I do believe some people need some association and guidance when it comes to abandoning Islam. We all know that leaving Islam is not a piece of cake. You are putting everything — even your life — at risk, especially when you make it public. Then, of course, there are more threats coming your way. It’s a huge change in one’s life, especially when they are young.

So, there should be some form of support. Still, I advise people to refrain from getting involved in the politics of any organization. I’m not just talking about ex-Muslim organizations; it’s been my experience that when organizations get involved in politics, they can become ruthless. They don’t care about your emotions, well-being, or reputation.

So, do not get involved in politics regarding any organization because you are already in a vulnerable situation. Taking inspiration from people is a good thing. It provides comfort, guidance, and useful information on what to do next. But do not get involved in politics. To be honest, I am not a part of any organization.

I’m working as much as I can in my capacity. I write articles, appear on national T.V., and do my podcast. I do as much as I can. I’m not a big name, but these are the efforts I can make in this regard. This is all I can do.

A. Khan: Also, the way people consume media has changed. 10 or 15 years ago, when we left Islam, social media was at a different level. An organization would have made sense for us because nothing else existed. That’s why Reddit was so huge for me.

But now, there are far more ex-Muslims on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. They’ve created spaces for themselves without attaching or coalescing around a specific issue, topic, or even other people. That has changed. People are going more in the direction Khadija is talking about, where they are doing it themselves.

Faulk-Dickerson: I’ll also add that several points mentioned earlier were on point, especially for Arabs. Islam is deeply attached to our cultural identity, making it difficult to voice dissent. Even if you distance yourself or don’t practice, there’sstill a profound identity piece attached to it. I know several Muslim women who do not practice and don’t agree with much of the teachings, especially as modern, liberated women. Yet, they still consider themselves Muslim because it’stied to their identity.

There is a differentiation between a person of faith and a Muslim in Islam. You can be a believer, which in Arabic is“Mu’min,” and have faith, “Iman,” without necessarily following the practices of Islam. But there’s such a strong association with the identity piece that many people continue to identify as Muslim, even if they don’t practice. It’s almost becoming similar to how many Jewish people identify as Jewish for ethnic or cultural reasons, not necessarily religious ones.

Islam is starting to take on that kind of identity, which makes it harder to separate.

A. Khan: I agree.

K. Khan: Instead of having an organization, I would appreciate having platforms where we can get together, share ideas, and amplify our protests regarding certain issues.

That would be helpful for people who look up to role models in this community.

A. Khan: It’s more like a network than a foundation.

‘Mia’: While having others there is supportive, anonymity is still important.

What was nice about reading when I looked into it was that I could do so independently without any exposure. It would be important for some people if something can factor in anonymity. People consume things via blogs, YouTube, TikTok, etc., because they can effectively protect themselves against exposure. It would be important to consider that.

Jacobsen: As Aysha mentioned about finding Reddit, you can be anonymous, get all the information, and even interact anonymously on Reddit.

Jasmin: I want to take this discussion close to the main question. But we are to consider an organization, a system, or a network, and this may be controversial. What we need to address — more than Islam itself, because that will exist whether we like it or not — is the human rights violations and women’s rights violations; I’m more concerned about that than the actual religion.

What I’m even more concerned about is this modern Western spin on Islam and the defence of Islamic practices. I think that’s far more dangerous because it normalizes harmful practices. As someone mentioned earlier, it’s even “fetishizing” them.

This whole idea of using the identity of a Muslim woman as an empowerment tool is deeply problematic. I always have to disclose this to make it relevant to my conversation: I am a liberal. I used to identify with the left, but now, even aligning with that is problematic. And I know, Khadija, you said not to be concerned with politics. I 100% agree.

Unfortunately, we can’t escape it. It is so intertwined with everything. The whole movement on the left that created the term “Islamophobia” is deeply problematic. I’ll spend a second here if possible. The term “Islamophobia” is problematicfor two reasons.

First, it is racist in its nature. It assumes and insinuates that all Muslims are ethnic or racial minorities, which is not true. We don’t have any other phobia for any other religion. Islam is the only one that has received this label.

Second, the label “Islamophobia” puts Islam above all other prejudices and violations. It protects Islam above all other religions and actions, which is very concerning because no religion should be beyond questioning. It perpetuates what Islam has already created for itself — the idea that it’s above everything. That you cannot question it. That you’ll face danger or threats if you do. This label emboldens that message, which is what most former Muslims, ex-Muslims, and people who leave the faith want to deconstruct — a sense of liberty from the grip that Islam has on both practicing and non-practicing Muslims.

K. Khan: Yes, I agree with you, Jasmin, that we can’t escape these issues. Still, I don’t see them as politics because these are the real reasons we discuss them. For me, they are human rights issues. Whether they are discussed under the banner of religion, I don’t care. Whether it is a far-right ideology, Nazism, or Islamism, they are all the same when it comes to human rights violations.

So, I don’t see it as politics. I see it as a legitimate concern. People with a conscience, whether they are ex-Muslims or not, should be involved in these discussions and try to resolve the issues around them. Regarding Islamophobia, I agree — it’s a term that has been weaponized to silence dissent, whether outside or within the Muslim community, and to smear critics of Islam.

My biggest objection to this term is that it does nothing to protect Muslims as people. It’s a cover for Islamists and their radical and extreme views. They want to perpetuate women’s rights abuses, minorities’ rights abuses, and other human rights violations under the banner of Islamophobia. They want to gain privileges and concessions in Western societies, whether these are Muslim politicians talking about Islamophobia or some activists or newspapers.

Westerners are often gullible and politically correct. They are trying to make a utopia of multiculturalism work. They don’t see it working, so they want to make it work. The way they’ve found to make it work is by appeasing the so-called religious leaders of these communities. They think this will make the utopia work, but it’s not working, and it’s not going to work.

We are witnessing radical changes in Western societies around the world, and it’s going to make things worse because you cannot appease extremists. It’s a bottomless pit. You might please them once, but they will come up with another demand. This is what we have been witnessing in the U.K. They first went after one school’s headmaster, then another school’sheadmistress, and then gathered outside another school.

Now, this has become a norm in the U.K. Whenever a school does not act in line with their beliefs, they start intimidating the administration, pupils, and teachers. Death threats are involved.

Schools are being shut down, and these incidents have become more common. One of the reasons people were agitated was, of course, the rights violated by far-right thugs. There is no excuse for that; it should be condemned without any ifs or buts. However, the staged protests initially involved ordinary British people before these riots. They were concerned that one religion and community were treated differently than the rest of society.

These grievances surface when political correctness dominates political and social discourse. We have to talk about these issues, and we should never let bad-faith actors politicize them because they make it look like politics. No, it’s not politics.

For me, if a couple of ex-Muslims have aligned with far-right propaganda, they are mere individuals. They do not represent the courageous people who abandon Islam and put their lives at risk. They are opportunists, in my mind, individuals looking for an opportunity to politicize these issues. Otherwise, these are legitimate concerns, and we need to be vocal about them.

I know not everyone can be vocal, and I understand that. I respect their decision to remain anonymous and not get involved — that’s perfectly fine. But for those who can, we should be as vocal as possible.

Faulk-Dickerson: I want to add one other thing. I know, Aysha, you want to jump in. Everything you said is 100% true. Speaking of labels, “Islamophobia” is as problematic as “antisemitism.” Hear me out: antisemitism does not accurately address what it’s trying to convey, which might be anti-Zionism, anti-Jewish sentiment, or Jewish hate. Antisemitism, by the way, includes Arabs, so it’s an issue. As a half-Arab, I’m a Semite, and calling Arabs antisemitic or referring to anyone who is against Jews, Zionism, or Israel as antisemitic is problematic. It shifts the power dynamics and changes the narrative in a way that can be misleading. Islamophobia is becoming the new antisemitism.

K. Khan: I can’t entirely agree with that. It’s not like antisemitism. The term “antisemitism” was not coined with malicious intentions, as happened with “Islamophobia.” Islamophobia was created to define bigotry against Muslims, but it was never aimed at protecting Muslims.

So when we talk about antisemitism, yes, there are people who use it to silence dissent. I agree with that. But to say there is any equivalence between these two terms? No.

Faulk-Dickerson: I felt misunderstood, Khadija. I’m not saying they are equivalent. I’m saying that it’s a label that does not necessarily address the actual problem. When the term “antisemitism” is used to focus on anti-Jewish, anti-Israel, or anti-Zionist sentiment, it is not an accurate label. The word “antisemitism” refers to a group of people that includes Arabs.

So, I’m referencing that it’s not a label that speaks to the current issue. Islamophobia, yes, is focused exclusively on Islam, but it is also a problematic label. I’m using the correlation to point out that certain labels meant to address specific issues are ineffective. As an Arab, I can tell you that the label “antisemitism” is problematic. I know there is anti-Jewish hate, anti-Israel sentiment, and anti-Zionism. I’m not voicing an opinion on that. Still, I’m saying that when the word“antisemitism” is only associated with protecting Jews, it’s an issue because Arabs are Semites as well. That’s what I’mreferring to.

A. Khan: Thank you for that. No, I wanted to triple down on the concept that the word “Islamophobia” is so problematic. Ideas don’t have rights — people do. What Islamophobia does is immediately shut down the conversation.

Islam is due to the same level of criticism that any other religion gets. So when I hear from other Muslims, “Oh, well, Hinduism is this,” or “Christianity is that,” or if I express some discomfort within Islam, they ask, “Well, did you look at the scripture? Did you talk to a Mufti? Did you talk to a Sheikh? Did you talk to any Imam?” I want so badly to turn around and say, “Did you do that when you rejected Christianity or Hinduism?” Fair is fair. That’s why I much prefer the label “anti-Muslim bigotry” because it brings it down to the individual level — it’s about the person.

So, suppose you are behaving in a discriminatory way towards a person. In that case, that is different from voicing criticism against religion. I agree.

Jacobsen: I should add that I have seen individuals who might see the term “Islamophobia” and recognize its efficacy in preventing some criticism of Islam.

Sometimes, it helps individuals in their social lives by protecting them from anti-Arab sentiment. But I’ve seen the term“atheophobia” in preliminary studies over the last ten years or so. In peer-reviewed published journals — there was one from UBC — researchers found that atheists often evoke feelings of disgust and strong dislike, are seen as less warm and deserve moral distrust and distrust in others. These are the emotions and sentiments people have.

We don’t have terms like “atheophobia” widely recognized. People try to use that term, but it seems cynical and inappropriate. I use that particular example to highlight how other individuals might cynically attempt to prevent any criticism of their political or religious ideology using these types of terms — like “Hinduophobia,” “Christianophobia,” etc.

I could see this happening even within secular dogmas like communism or fascism, where people might try to stop criticism by using such terms. It’s not likely, but it could happen.

K. Khan: The point is that there are possibilities where even the term “anti-Muslim bigotry,” which is quite self-explanatory, could be used to shut down criticism of religion. For example, they might say that if you criticize the hijab, you’re dehumanizing Muslim women because they wear the hijab.

The work that we’re all doing by criticizing Islam starts here — we need to draw a distinction between criticizing ideas and bigotry against people. This distinction is something we all need to uphold because Islamists and some Muslims try to blur the line between the two. They feel bad when you criticize their religion, and they don’t want you to say anything negative about it, so they blur the line between criticizing ideas and bigotry against people to protect their religious beliefs.

For example, I’ve heard prominent people from the Muslim community give this absurd comparison: “What if you say something bad about my mom? I would feel bad.” To me, it’s like there’s a difference between a book and a mom.

My mom doesn’t care. My mom is my mom. Please say something nice about my mom, but you’re not obliged to respect her. If you say, “I don’t respect your mom,” I have the decency to say, “That’s fine. That’s your opinion. It’s all right.”

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes, I agree 100%. One of the biggest issues that women face, especially women — not men as much — who distance themselves from Islam, are no longer practicing, or are ex-Muslim, is the immediate question: “Have you talked to someone? Have you read the Quran?” Yes, I’ve read it in its original language. I went to a private school where, from kindergarten to 12th grade, you studied seven subjects attached to religion.

Whether it’s reading the Quran, memorizing the Quran, interpreting the Quran, studying the Hadith of the Prophet, explaining the Hadith, applying religious teachings, or understanding faith, these seven subjects are all focused on religion. Oh, and then there’s the pronunciation of the Quran — that makes eight. So you’re learning religion nonstop.

So, yes, I understand — I’ve read it. I have. That’s number one. Number two is the concern that women, specifically, are often unable to question, compare, or analyze because the moment they do, they are labelled sinners and accused of causing problems. This is deeply concerning.

And then, on the other side, you have the West defending something they don’t understand, empowering and encouraging something they don’t understand. That, to me, is probably the biggest threat. But then you have the “Muslim-lite” or“Muslim by label” individuals who still keep that title, which inflates the number of Muslims in the world. So, you hear about these billions of Muslims. On top of that, you have these vocal Muslim Western women who don’t consider themselves converts but “reverts.”

Look that up — I’m sure you know what that is. The idea is that you’re reverting to Islam because you were naturally born Muslim. Then, somehow, society corrupted you and made you a Christian. Now, you’ve reverted to your original faith, which is the faith that God wants. So, all these Muslim women from the West are lecturing those of us who grew up in that faith, who had no choice, and who have suffered the consequences of being completely subjugated and oppressed. That is truly the biggest threat. I think the threat comes from the outside far more than from the inside.

I’m not minimizing what’s happening on the inside, but that’s been a given for centuries and will continue as long as some outside voices and behaviours encourage and empower that ideology.

A. Khan: Yes, and I would like to add that South Asian Muslims have an added layer of complexity in that we are often told we are not reading the correct interpretation of the Quran because we do not speak Arabic. So, we rely on someone to translate Arabic into either English or Urdu. Then, if you go on Quran.com, you have your choice of ten different versions of the English interpretation of the Quran, which leads to arguments like, “Does the word ‘strike’ mean strike, or does it mean to hit with a stick no smaller than the width of your thumb?”

It’s utter nonsense. When I hear people talk about colonialism, I’m like, let’s talk about Arab colonialism in South Asia. Let’s talk about how we have been stripped of our culture, traditions, and language.

K. Khan: I’m so glad you brought that up.

A. Khan: When I was growing up, it was “Khuda Hafiz.” Then, as I got older, it became “Allah Hafiz.” Now, I hear people saying “As-Salaam-Alaikum” when leaving because it’s closer to what Arabs say. Even saying “thank you” has come into Islam’s crosshairs. I have relatives who now say “Jazakallah” instead of “Shukria.” We have become Arabized — it’s like the Arabification of our culture, and it is bonkers.

Faulk-Dickerson: “Jazakkala” is Islamic. We still say “Shukran” in Arabic, but “Jazakallah” is religious. Thank you. So that’s — wow.

K. Khan: We South Asians are more Muslim than Arabs. It’s not something to be proud of. It’s a shame. Every country or society has its own culture. Arabs have their own culture, and the cultural part is where people come together, enjoy, dance, and have a good time. I love these parts of all cultures, whether it’s Arab culture or South Asian culture.

What I object to is the oppressive parts of any culture. In South Asia, I can relate to what you said. For us, it’s never enough to learn about religion because it’s not our language, first of all. It’s been imposed on us. It’s not that South Asians are incapable of learning another language. Many South Asians living abroad speak two or three languages, if not more.

It’s about imposing something with aggression and abuse. Much abuse comes with that. Kids are beaten, and I was also beaten as a child by my teacher for not memorizing the Quran or for not pronouncing things properly. That fear, that intimidation. Somehow, they taught us to look down on ourselves — that unless we become a personification of Arab culture, we are not good enough as people.

So, because our culture is negative — our culture — exactly, we have no culture. If there’s no Islam, then we have no culture. That was so confusing for me as a child. There was a struggle because, for instance, in India, people were dancing, girls were learning dance and singing, and we couldn’t do it, even though we were the same people. How is it possible that their culture is this, but it’s not ours anymore? That was so confusing.

Regarding your point about Western liberals who are being politically correct and not supporting us and even trying to suppress our voices, it’s true that we are fighting on more than one front. It’s not just about radical Islamists. Yes, the fear of being targeted by Islamists is always there, but then there’s also the fear of being shut down by liberals in the West.

It’s not just a fringe group — many people say, “Why do you talk about Islam? Why do you talk about hijab? These Muslim women are wearing it willingly. Let them be. Stop talking about it.” They cannot understand it. I don’t buy this argument because they can understand. They have fought battles against religious tyranny here in the West. The tyranny of Christianity was no less cruel and brutal than that of Islamic regimes, whether in the past or present. It’s more or less the same thing. They’ve experienced it, and this is where I find myself most disappointed.

What we are up against — our fight and the challenges we face — instead of becoming our allies, they make us the target of their criticism. That is not fair. That is not humane, in my view.

A. Khan: This brings me to the idea of forming an organization or a network. One of the issues that bothers me is, again, World Hijab Day, which to me is like celebrating a minority within a minority. Women who choose to wear hijab are a fraction of the women who wear hijab. It’s wild. You’re catering to a specific, minute slice of Muslim women who choose to wear hijab, and you’re ignoring the coercive control through modesty culture — it’s a modesty cult. And then you’resaying it’s a choice. No, it’s not.

It’s not a choice when you’re told at nine years old that you can no longer wear skirts or shorts or that now that you’remenstruating, you must wear a hijab or you must cover yourself. It bothers me.

Faulk-Dickerson: My favourite argument when I speak to this is when I say, “How does it make sense?” And again, I grew up in Saudi Arabia, potentially the hottest country in the world. People tell me things are changing now. Great, I’mtalking about the general situation.

My answer when I say that is that people — whether they are from the religious community or the leftists defending religious choices — pose the argument, “Well, you wouldn’t run around naked in a cold environment.” Or, “You need to cover in the desert and the heat to protect yourself.” I’m like, “So one extreme and the other extreme equate? How does that even make sense?” The justifications defending these practices often come from the West. It’s inconceivable.

First of all, 25 years ago, when I came here, I would have never imagined that I would be arguing with Westerners the way I had when I was growing up with the most radical ideology. That radical ideology is now about censorship — about not being able to speak, not being able to question.

And, going back to the word “Islamophobia,” phobia, in general, is a fear of something. The accusation of calling people Islamophobes — that’s not what they’re saying. No one’s afraid of Islam. They’re not afraid of Muslims. People who are bigots and hate others for whatever reason — they’re not afraid of them.

They hate them. So you can say there’s hate. You can say there’s bigotry. You can say there’s any ism — prejudice or racism or whatever. That’s fine.

But the word “phobia,” whether it’s used in any context — even when you think about it as “homophobia” — is like, are you afraid of gay people, or do you hate them? It’s important to wrap your mind around the language as well. We allow this language to be perpetuated, and it creates an ideology. That’s the message there.

It’s not even about defending or protecting anything. It’s about creating a new cult mentality, mob mentality, ideology — whatever you want to call it — for more control and more power.

Jacobsen: Could such a network or community discussion board provide a bulwark for people to formulate and refine arguments and then deliver them online for others to see? So, do you have the anonymity Aysha mentioned on Reddit or people doing it alone? It could be something as simple as a community discussion or a resource page. It doesn’t have to have any discernible or definable main figures as the heads of it.

It could be a grassroots, bottom-up electronic formulation of a network that might be useful to people who are coming out, not feeling safe, but knowing or feeling something is wrong concerning family and community structure and ideology. They might not know how to crystallize those feelings into formalized thoughts.

Faulk-Dickerson: This would be hard to implement because, as we heard from everyone here, the nuances, details, backgrounds, and experiences are vast, complex, and different. It takes work to create a platform where these stories can all fit. I’m struggling with this one because it is so hard. When we’re on the other side, we all cohesively come to this, but when you’re approaching it initially. There’s no telling what drive or push led you to seek an out from it.

At the same time, what are all the traumas? What are all the complexes? What are all the impositions? What kind of shame did you grow up with? What kind of fear was imposed on you? It’s so complex that it’s hard to find a space to capture it all because grassroots movements also become ideological. So, I need help with this one.

K. Khan: Women, ex-Muslim women, are far more reasonable in articulating their views around these issues than ex-Muslim men. It’s obvious. It’s the truth. I’m not saying this to differentiate between men and women. Still, when I look at some famous ex-Muslim men, I don’t find myself being inspired. There are a couple of people I would look up to, but only a few. There are many prominent faces among ex-Muslim men. Still, ex-Muslim women, when interacting with activists, are different. Some activists want to make alliances, and some don’t because they are famous and want to be the only voices. They don’t want anyone standing with them or being connected with them. For them, it’s like, “Whatever I’msaying, all you have to do is say, ‘I’m with you.’ That’s it.” This is all they want.

So, for me, it was fine. I can distance myself from these people because it’s important to understand that we are fighting the same cause and ideology. However, it’s important to find common ground and treat each other humanely, making each other feel like our voices matter. It’s not just about “me, me, me” and nobody else.

I feel there are inspirational ex-Muslim women, and the concept of networking is more feasible, in my opinion than having an institution or organization. We are all individuals coming from different backgrounds. We have different views and beliefs, but yes, we are united in our protest against Islam.

This is the only thing that unites us. Our fight for human rights and these kinds of issues bring us together. These are the common grounds we share. We are all reasonable enough to have civilized discussions like this one. I have never had a bad experience with ex-Muslim women, to be honest.

Even though we may agree or disagree, the discussions are always reasonable and respectful. So, while ex-Muslim women may not be as prominent, they are still inspirational to me. If I had a choice between watching prominent ex-Muslim men or ex-Muslim women, I would choose ex-Muslim women because I find more common ground with them. I find them more reasonable in their approaches to dealing with these issues.

A. Khan: Same here. I’m not sure, Scott, how that would be much different from Reddit. But going back to the idea of whether this is relevant for ex-Muslims now, and considering gender or sex differences among people who leave Islam, I find that men struggle more and longer than women do. For men, Islam often roots them in their masculinity and gives them purpose. For women, you live under the oppression of men, so the idea of escaping and wanting freedom makes you more willing to walk through that door.

The period of disillusionment or disenfranchisement that you experience after leaving Islam is shorter and a little less painful for women than it is for men. I wonder if there’s still a need because women find each other more organically. For example, ‘Mia’ and I have known each other for 10-plus years, and I only recently learned that she’s an ex-Muslim, literally just a few months ago. But I feel like we find each other in more organic ways than men do. Men seem to need more of a formal setting to come together.

Jacobsen: That’s interesting because I go through waves of interest when I have time. Over the years, I’ve done a ton of interviews with ex-Muslims, and as we can all imagine, it’s mostly dudes. Interestingly, I noted that men have much more freedom of movement and financial wherewithal. They can go to another country or get out more easily.

So, I take the point you’re making. In that case, there’s this face-value paradox: Men may have the money and freedom of travel to get out more easily. Yet, in terms of their stature within the system of the religion, it’s a harder hit or a bruise to the ego. Reintegration into being “like everyone else” can be difficult. So, it takes more work for women to get out in the first place. Still, once they’re out, the individual psycho-emotional process is quicker.

K. Khan: I would also say that when I wanted to question religious beliefs, it wasn’t easy. I would think about the consequences and repercussions, which felt almost impossible. But for men, it’s not impossible. Even if they live in Muslim-majority countries, they can denounce religion privately, though making it public is another story.

Nobody can easily make it public in a Muslim-majority country. Still, men can live without strictly adhering to the core principles of religion. They can get away with drinking, adultery, and other things that, according to Islam, are liable to severe punishments, including the death penalty.

But for women, the control is so strict. Every single step you take involves thinking about the repercussions. If you’regoing outside your house, consider your father, your mother’s and your family’s permission, or whether your brother will be fine with it. There’s always something to consider.

These little, trivial things we have to take into consideration before doing anything because we have not been given any empowerment, any authority, or any say. We are acting like robots, doing what we are told to do. For us, it’s never easy to break these shackles. That’s the reason I have huge admiration for women, especially because I know it’s the hardest thing they ever come across in their lives — abandoning religion, denouncing it, and then making it public, which is even harderbecause there’s so much abuse involved.

I’ve received so many abusive messages, apparently from men. I’ve stopped checking my inbox on Messenger and Twitter because it shocks me. I don’t want to read those kinds of messages — they are so explicit and abusive. These are the things we have to face. And from family, neighbours, and the community, it’s a lot for women to take this step.

Faulk-Dickerson: Thank you, Khadija. That is such an important point. Men who are still considered Muslim can get away with anything. I don’t care what anybody says, but it’s the truth.

Women, whether they are in modern Muslim families, progressive modern Muslim families, religious or conservative ones — it doesn’t matter what level of social freedom or lack thereof a family has — the woman always has to adhere to a specific standard of behaviour. If a man misbehaves, it’s never about what kind of Muslim he is; that question would never be asked of a man. But for a woman, it’s asked every single time. Her behaviour is 100% tied to religious practices.

The other point I wanted to make is that, yes, Muslim men are also seeking a normal life and some level of freedom or normalcy, and they can find it a lot easier. For women, it is close to impossible. There is a checklist of things that a Muslim woman has to do to be a respected woman, to make things right by her family, by her father, and by the males in her family. No man answers to anyone. By law, the man has all the power over all the women in his family, including his mother. That’s the standard law of Islamic practices.

Some countries are moving away from that, and that’s progress. But that particular piece is crucial to differentiate between how women liberate themselves from oppression and how men do — it’s a given for them. It’s a no-brainer. No one questions a man’s behaviour.

A man’s behaviour or misbehaviour is always associated with and tied to a woman’s behaviour. So, if a man misbehaves, the woman tempts him, lures him, or makes himself available. It’s never the man’s fault. When a man misbehaves, a woman is involved, who is seen as the devil in his ear.

K. Khan: That’s true. Men always define a woman, and a woman is responsible for how a man conducts himself.

Today, we were having a discussion in the U.K. about sexual assaults on women on trains. Some people were proposing segregated carriages for women to protect them from sexual assault and such. I was on T.V. They asked me. I was against this segregation. For me, it was an extension of the same misogynistic mindset prevalent in Iran, Saudi Arabia, or other Muslim-majority countries and India — that whatever happens, it’s the woman’s fault.

They don’t think predatory men are the problem; they think women are the problem. So, they want to segregate women to protect them. Again, this is victim blaming, and I don’t see any real protection in that because sexual assault and violence against women are not confined to the boxes of trains. It’s a prevalent issue in society, even here in the U.K.

So, you cannot say that creating segregated carriages will protect women. It never works. In Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, they have maximum segregation between men and women. Are women protected in those countries? “Yes.”

We don’t see many reported rape cases because women either don’t report rape or are accused of adultery if they cannot provide witnesses. People say, “Oh, look at Saudi Arabia, no woman is ever raped there, and no woman is ever raped in Pakistan.” This is so ridiculous. In societies where patriarchy and misogyny are so rife, it’s absurd to think that women are safe. I can never wrap my head around a level of absurdity.

Jacobsen: Part of the problem is the lack of sufficient reporting on international issues in the Western informational space. There’s this “black box” problem where we don’t have enough information on what’s happening. To the point of the comment about there being no sexual assault in Pakistan — Gulalai Ismail fled Pakistan and disappeared for months. She’s a major humanist and eventually showed up in New York after an unknown escape path because the military police and the Democrats were after her.

In North Waziristan, she had reported on the rape of Pashtun women by military officials and police. There was an Anti-Terror Act law in place, and criticizing those officers for bringing the rapes to light was considered, by extension, as criticizing the government. Therefore, it could be characterized as a terrorist act.

Her father is a long-time human rights defender, and she and her sister founded Aware Girls, a women’s and girls’ rights organization in Pakistan when they were just 14. It’s not an easy context to deal with, but the last time I talked to her, they were getting some graduate degrees in Chicago. Her sister, Saba, was also involved. These contexts highlight that reports often involve extreme cases when they come out.

It also relates to Jasmin’s expertise–Saudi Arabia–and Khadija’s background in Pakistan, where many of the terrorist acts are linked to Salafi-Wahhabi interpretations of Islam. Yet, the so-called “Muslim ban” didn’t target Saudi Arabia or specific denominational interpretations like Salafi-Wahhabi. These distinctions aren’t being made, which is part of the black box problem.

By clarifying these distinctions, former Muslim women’s conversations and discussions could be helpful — not only to themselves but also to the broader discussion in the general public. No matter how this might end up, whether there’s a formal network or not, this gets the discussion ball rolling. Do you think there’s a benefit in at least portraying honest voices, authentic voices of women who have left Islam for a variety of reasons, regardless of their denominational background, to people in the West to humanize the image of people in countries they may not necessarily be acquainted with, but tend to have strong political and social views on, even racist views on?

A. Khan: The more voices we can put out there, the more we normalize the issue of women leaving Islam. As Khadija said, it’s incredibly difficult. Forget — well, not forget — but even putting the issue of sexual assault aside, sexual harassment within these communities is outrageous. When you talk about the low rates of reported rape, we often overlook the rampant sexual harassment on the streets in these communities. It’s absurd.

You are unable to leave your house. I’ve visited Pakistan. I’ve also lived in India. I’ve travelled in those women-only train cars. It’s disgusting because every time a train passes on the other track, men are hanging off that train, leering at you, making disgusting gestures, and catcalling you. It’s disgusting. What you’ve done is essentially create another form of hijab. You’ve said women are the problem; therefore, they need to be separated from society.

If men are the problem, why doesn’t hijab exist for men? Why is it my fault? Why is my body the issue? Why do I need to be the one isolated?

K. Khan: Why don’t they make segregated carriages for men if they are the ones committing the crimes? It’s victim blaming. In any case, it’s always the women who are blamed.

Jacobsen: Even if it’s not, this approach caters to a specific population. Part of these discussions continually highlights the gendered nature of coming out of these communities and ideologies.

K. Khan: I want to say, because I may have to leave soon, that there are very vocal ex-Muslim women, and there are ex-Muslim women who are not vocal but are still out there. Whenever they feel comfortable enough to come out and make it public, it’s up to them. There’s nothing that says they have to come out because being an ex-Muslim brings a lot of fear, intimidation, abuse, and the threat of being targeted by radicals.

Especially when we see that Western liberals are not entirely on our side, the situation for ex-Muslims is not very favourable. I was told by someone who is supposedly so liberal in their views, “You are going to receive these kinds of threats and abuse. Why don’t you stop talking about it? Just leave them alone and live your life.” It was so easy for that person to say. I was in shock for some time because I couldn’t expect this kind of talk from an Islamist or fundamentalist. Still, from someone I knew to be so progressive, liberal, and Western? I would never have expected that kind of view from them.

The situation for ex-Muslims could be more favourable for coming out and speaking on these issues. But, yes, those who can do it are brave and making a difference. I appreciate the presence of these women around me. Today, I’ve met three more women. It’s fabulous to see more and more women stepping up. We all have our journeys and will take our time to pick up the pace.

Faulk-Dickerson: I want to highlight that Scott took this conversation and brought it to the world, which is wonderful. Still, I think one of the most important points to highlight from this discussion is the fact that the West is hurting women in these communities — whether they are still practicing or non-practicing — more than their communities are. The reason why is that the whole goal of so-called Westernized, civilized, progressive, liberated governments or countries is to protect human rights. This is not seen as a human rights violation, but it is completely a violation of human rights.

It is appalling to me to be living in a country where I see Christians demonized, rightfully or wrongfully — I don’t have a judgment on that. But when evangelicals and Mormons, especially fundamentalist Mormons, are criticized for their practices — how they treat their people — it’s the same practice as in fundamentalist Islamic interpretations. It’s the same. So why have we empowered a woman wearing a hijab or, as Khadija said, adopted a “live and let live” attitude?

Why are we saying, “Let them be,” when this comes from the voices of people who have borne the consequences of being in that environment? Here, we are speaking about it, and we’re seen as demonizing the religion; we’re seen as problems in society. But the women who escaped the FLDS — the fundamentalist Latter-Day Saints — are heroes. They’re victims. Let’s hear them out.

I’m perplexed by the disparity between these two extreme ways of approaching women who are victims of religion.

Jacobsen: I’m picking up that strongly from this conversation. Suppose we’re going to have an ethic. In that case, it should be universally applicable, just as we do with human rights in general, which are specific ways of mentioning different facets of the principle of universalism.

A. Khan: Yes, Islam cannot get a pass anymore. That’s fundamentally what we all agree on. Islam cannot get a pass anymore.

K. Khan: That’s true. We are all speaking from our positions, and more and more people will emerge. They are coming out. The people we see converting to Islam are merely publicized — they are not a large number. I’m talking about 15 years back when I was in university, in a room full of young people. They were talking so negatively about the religion. This was about 15 years ago — a packed room full of young people mocking religious beliefs. It’s a tsunami. If they can hear it, it’s even better because they would be surprised.

Jacobsen: Another point mentioned earlier by Aysha had to do with the rise of “cafeteria Muslims” and “secular Muslims.” I remember seeing nods during the call when you mentioned the things that the younger generations of Muslim women are wearing — at least in North America, the United Kingdom, or Canada — things you would not have been allowed to get away with when you were younger, or at least in your community when you were younger. So, could it not necessarily be an ex-Muslim women’s network as a whole, but one integrated with more liberal, cafeteria, secular Muslim communities of women as well?

Faulk-Dickerson: I want to say something about this because, while, on the one hand, it’s great to see women being empowered and practicing their religion the way they want, I will say this from my personal experience. I have received much judgment from these modern, secular, cafeteria Muslim women. When I want to speak about my story, my upbringing, and my completely oppressive experience, their response is, “That’s not Islam. That is not how I practice it.”

And my answer to them is, “Well, that’s not like that anymore. Saudi Arabia has now come a long way.” Great. I’m happy about that. But my answer is, do we then erase history? Do we erase the voices of so many women who have gone through this? Do we silence victims and traumatized people — potentially current, still-traumatized people?

It baffles me that they say, “Well, that was 10, 15 years ago.” Yes, well, the Holocaust was 70 years ago, and slavery was over 100 years ago. Do we erase it? These are problematic historical atrocities that have occurred. Just because they weren’t genocidal in nature doesn’t mean that ideologically, spiritually, and psychologically, they weren’t genocides. It was absolute apartheid — what women experienced and continue to experience silently and quietly. They’ve just gotten creative with hiding it.

Now, they’ve masked it fabulously. They’ve rebranded it, and this new version 100% dismisses, criticizes, ridicules, mocks, and judges those of us who had a different experience. So, unfortunately, I can’t see an allyship or correlation with this modern version of Islam.

A. Khan: Yes, I would hesitate to ally ex-Muslims with secular Muslims in that way because I feel like — though I hate to pass judgment — there’s a disingenuousness in practicing faith that way. It irks me to no end, whether delusion or something else. Try saying that in a Muslim-majority country. Try wearing those outfits in a theocratic state. It’s not going to happen. And then try telling them that the version of Islam they’re practicing is not correct and that your version is. You’re not going to get far.

K. Khan: I agree with that. It’s hard to ally with more progressive Muslims. We can never find common ground unless we accept the reality, which is different for both of us. The concept of Islamic feminism is an oxymoron, in my opinion. There is no such thing as Islamic feminism. There is no concept of feminism in Islam. The same goes for progressive Muslims. Yes, suppose they are willing to understand the extremist and radical elements in their religion, the violations of women’s rights, and the violations of minorities’ rights. In that case, I am 100% for that. But if they want me to ignore the bad bits and only focus on the good bits, that’s not possible. I want to talk about the bad bits because those bad bits are impacting innocent people’s lives around the world. That’s not a compromise I can make on this issue.

A couple of people here in the U.K. are very practicing Muslims in every possible way, but I have good terms with them on this one condition. It’s not that I’ve told them they must be like this — they know it. If they are in any alliance with me, they cannot tell me that there are good bits in Islam and to ignore the bad bits. They know that. So, when discussing things or working together on any project, they know my point of view. I’m very clear that I won’t make any compromise on this issue. So, realizing reality is the first step in any relationship, if there is to be one at all. It was lovely to see you, meet you, and get to know you. Thank you so much. Have a lovely day or evening. Thank you so much, Scott.

‘Mia’: On allyship, to build momentum and ground, you must reach across and have enough people behind the movement. Okay. So, I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe I’m being optimistic, but this could be the start of a change where maybe “cafeteria Islam” is how things segue into a softer and more palatable version. I feel like Christianity has been watered down quite considerably, and they’re more receptive to critique now. This may be the start of it.

Jacobsen: That’s a good point. Christians have had strict delineations in their history of formal denominational splits. For example, some immigrant families from Holland to Canada — like my own — were Dutch Reformed or Dutch Orthodox. They moved to Ontario and then became Presbyterian. So, in my mind, Presbyterian is Dutch Reformed or Dutch Orthodox lite.

But I don’t see this ever happening in Islam. In all the years of doing these interviews, I’ve never heard discussions around “Sunni lite,” “Shia lite,” “Quranist lite,” or “Ahmadi lite.” Those are the titles; the only other category I see is ex-Muslim or former-Muslim. It’s a much different conceptual discussion than if I were interviewing people with an ex-Christian background.

Faulk-Dickerson: Part of it is because it’s harder to be “Muslim lite.” You’re either committed or you’re not.

A. Khan: Islam is too rigid.

Faulk-Dickerson: Exactly. So even folks who practice this so-called cultural Islam, where they’re not doing any of the rituals but still consider themselves Muslim, find it a lot harder to admit that. To say, “Yes, I’m a Muslim,” and then to add, “But I don’t pray, I don’t fast, I don’t do any of these things,” is difficult. You end up faking your way around that. You’re not going to say you drink openly. You either are 100% vocal about the fact that you’re not attached or associated with any of the practices and titles, or it’s the other way around.

‘Mia’: Thank you, everyone. Nice to meet you.

Faulk-Dickerson: Anyway, that’s where I was thinking — it’s easier for Christians because there are also 9,000 denominations of Christianity. With Islam, you’re either Sunni or Shia, and anything else is not considered legitimate or worthy of paying attention to or listening to scholars. It’s the Shiites and the Sunnis who fight over who has more power and control. The Sunnis have more power. In that respect, the Sunnis have completely monopolized the entire conversation. So, will we see that level of progress? We’re already 1,500 years into the religion, so it seems unlikely.

Jacobsen: Part of it is off-topic, but part concerns the linguistic fractionation of the Christian religion. Hebrew, Aramaic, and Latin produced the King James, New International, and more. I’m looking for a time when there will be a 21st-century lingo interpretation of the Bible, where Jesus says, “No cap.” There is some truth there. I have nieces, so I can see that happening. But I’m imagining, “Jesus was Sigma.” His most Sigma moment was flipping the tables of the money lenders. Anyway, with Islam, you have Arabic, so it’s a much simpler formula to make an argument for its textual analysis.

Falk-Dickerson: Not to interrupt, Scott, but you know this and have come across it — the Quran is supposedly untouched and unaltered. It’s the only word of God that has not been altered or touched, and it’s meant for all time. It is the last and final word of God. So, it set itself up nicely.

Jacobsen: I will credit the Baha’i because — what’s the literal translation of the Kitáb-i-Aqdas? It’s not just the holy book; it’s “The Most Holy Book.” Wow, you win.

Faulk-Dickerson: But actual Muslims — let’s say, Sunnis or any Muslims who are non-Baha’i — do not consider Baha’isto be Muslim. It’s like how some Christians don’t consider Mormons to be Christian. So, Baha’is have taken a completely different route. They are not received or welcomed by Muslims. Let’s make that clear.

A. Khan: Do some people consider Baha’is Muslim? Because I’ve never heard that.

Faulk-Dickerson: Baha’is consider themselves a delineation of Islam, like Sufis. They define themselves as part of Islam.

Jacobsen: In all of my interviews with ex-religious people, religious people, etc., no one has anything bad to say about the Unitarian Universalists. No one.

My friend defines himself as a Quranist Muslim. I like talking to people; it’s much more engaging than reading a peer-reviewed article. Those are only going to be read by specialists in their dialect. We’ve been conversing since cave paintings, so it’s a much easier delivery system. However, the linguistic system evolved. It’s an easier way to communicate.

Jacobsen: Jasmin opened by questioning whether it was premature. So, Khadija mentioned media hounds and the lack of association. People are fighting over follower counts online. She saw these people as media hounds. She didn’t want to associate with them, especially when she saw them arguing over follower counts. Knowing Khadija, she likely looked at the actual tweets. So when she says that there are people — famous or moderately famous — taking the “ex-Muslim” title as their brand and fighting over follower counts, she’s likely highlighting that as something to avoid for the sake of efficacy and seriousness.

Aysha, you mentioned “cafeteria Muslims” and “secular Muslims.” You talked about younger relatives who took that route. There’s a question of whether a space needs to be carved out. Both of you seem to lean toward saying it’s either premature or uncertain if space is needed post-9/11. Now, post-9/11, your point mainly revolved around the re-racialization of South Asians and Arabs. So it wasn’t just an American issue; now it’s part of the conversation.

A. Khan: Yes, I’ve spoken about this often, but 9/11 happened when I was a freshman in college. Many of my South Asian and Muslim friends essentially had to decide between being either South Asian or Muslim. They chose religion over culture, becoming more religious because they were being asked, “Is this Islam? Is this what Islam asks people to do to non-Muslims — essentially attack or kill them?” They didn’t know the answer. Like many Muslims growing up in the West, they’d been fed a specific version of Islam that said, “Islam means peace,” and so on.

What I’m referencing is people becoming more religious, eschewing their cultural and racial identity, and being absorbedby Islam on a larger scale.

Jacobsen: That’s another thing I’ve seen come up — ‘Mia’’s point about the fear of first coming out. So, there are at least two angles to that. You could have an association, network, or organization to contact. Still, at the same time, you’re at risk of being identifiable. What are your feelings on that? The risk factors for women coming forward and the fear around that.

A. Khan: It’s real.

Jacobsen: Yes, it could be a serious roadblock for women publicly identifying themselves as ex-Muslim or even questioning Islam. I see some merit in creating a platform where people can contribute anonymously, but that feels disjointed and incohesive. I’m unsure how else to get around it other than what EXMNA does: screen people before allowing them to join community groups. It’s arduous.

Faulk-Dickerson: Part of the issue is that you’re attracting people looking to target you. It’s easy for someone to create a false identity, join these communities, and then target vulnerable individuals. There’s so much spyware, and then there are bots — you’re not protected or safe. For those of us speaking out more openly, we know the risks. That’s why I say the power is in the collective. Once you have too many women speaking, it becomes harder to silence them. It’s like being attacked by a swarm of flies — you can catch one or two. Still, the world is watching unless you eradicate them all simultaneously, which is also possible.

Jacobsen: Scope was another good point. It had to be narrow, which was also Aysha’s point. The idea was to focus on a specific issue without escaping Islam. Here’s a follow-up question combining two points from ‘Mia’ and Khadija: How do you create a network with an appropriately narrow scope without becoming “political” or “ruthless”?

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes. Wrapping it around human and women’s rights is the only way. The only way to address this particular issue is to start by addressing it as a human rights issue, a women’s rights issue, and a women’s protection issue. It can include other religions, abuses, or atrocities, but the focus should be clear. Aysha, you mentioned that many don’treport abuses because they go nowhere, and quite the opposite — it often turns against you.

Jacobsen: Yes, that’s just a footnote in the larger point that most abuse is not reported. I did a case study on the Canadian military during their sexual assault scandal. Several other developed countries have had similar issues with their military. The report done by the military themselves found that most cases weren’t reported. When they were reported, the victims didn’t think anything would be done. Over half of serving members said they didn’t think anything would be done even if it were reported. So, in most cases, they try to deal with it at a local level without involving bureaucracy.

Faulk-Dickerson: That’s an interesting point, using the military as an example, because that’s exactly what religions can do — they become so militarized that they’re a one-ideology process. You can’t go against it, no matter what. It’s so powerful, like the military, that you can’t question or criticize it.

Jacobsen: Yes, it’s a regimented structure.

A. Khan: I was thinking about what’s happening in Iran with the hijab situation.

Jacobsen: Islam is tightly identified with Arab cultural identity. Jasmin, that was your point. At the same time, any platforming of former Muslim women as role models would be good — that was Khadija’s point. So, if Islam is tightly connected to Arab cultural identity in general, for individuals — particularly women — who leave Islam to be then platformed and to speak out on areas of acute human rights abuse that they or people they know have experienced or to recite relevant evidence-based statistics, could women like that provide a good role model and voice for other women who are much more hesitant to come out, either from fear or not wanting to be in front of the camera?

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes, I often say this when I give talks — Arab women are the most silenced women in the world. That’s not in any way dismissing other women, other Muslim women, not at all. But Arab women have the double whammy of historical culture, which was oppressive even before Islam. Back in the day, in that part of the world, they buried newborn girls alive. So there’s always been this kind of oppressive ideology in the region toward women. Then, you add the religion, which conflated itself with the traditional practices of the region.

Let me also disclose that Arabs have wonderful characteristics. There are wonderful things about Arab culture. I’m not in any way accusing the entire Arab region or the entire Arab ethnicity of being horrible. Quite the opposite — they are beautiful, generous people. But when those in power have some advantage in taking control and utilizing this level of oppression, it becomes a problem.

We don’t hear enough from Arab women. We hear from Muslim women who are not Arab speaking out, and thank goodness for them. We do hear from whether they’re still Muslim women, ex-Muslim women, secular Muslim women, progressive Muslim women — whatever that is — who are non-Arab. Once they’re out of their region, they’re somewhat protected.

But Arab women have an immeasurable fear. In the region, they are so brainwashed that even when they’re outside of the region, they can’t speak. So, it would be great to see more and more Arab women speak up. I get private messages from young Arab women and older Arab women all the time. They appreciate that I and a few other Arab women speak out. Still, Aysha, I wonder if you’ve encountered more Arab women as opposed to Muslim women who are not Arab?

A. Khan: Yes. As you were saying that, I was trying to think back to how many of the ex-Muslim women I know who are public are Arab. I would say very few. Interestingly, the vast majority of them are probably South Asian.

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes. Part of that is because the governments of the South Asian countries are not as powerful as those of the Saudi government or other Arab governments with such a global reach. They have such a strong relationship with the U.S. The U.S. will align itself with the Saudi government and play this game. Still, it will necessarily be different with the Pakistani or Indonesian governments. So, it is political. As much as we try to escape it, this is very political.

A. Khan: Yes. That’s an interesting point.

Jacobsen: I could hear a potential critique, however. Someone might say, “Why would you want to focus on the ethnic background of an ex-Muslim or former Muslim woman? Isn’t this tokenizing the ethnic background of this individual?”

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes. We don’t necessarily need to focus on it, but we do need to give voice to it. I’m not saying we need to focus on Arab women or that we need Arab women to lead this. That’s not at all what I’m saying. What I’msaying is that highlighting the fact that Arab women’s voices are not as prominent and that they are visibly silent starts to unpack the deeper issue, if that makes sense.

A. Khan: Yes. That’s what I understood from what Jasmine was saying.

Jacobsen: Jasmine, you made a point that was new in the conversation space that I’ve heard, and it’s true — Arabs are Semites, too. Hello?

A. Khan: I’ve heard that before.

Jacobsen: You’ve heard that before?

A. Khan: Yes.

Jacobsen: So, what do you typically hear in response to that?

Faulk-Dickerson: The immediate response is, “Well, that’s not what it means here. When we talk about antisemitism, we are talking about Jews.” And my response to that is that I am in no way saying that Jewish hate or anti-Jewish sentiment isn’t real. It’s real. It’s problematic. I want all people to be safe. I want Muslims to be safe. I want Jews to be safe. I want Arabs to be safe. I want Israelis to be safe. I am in no way arguing against that. What I am arguing is that this particular label — antisemitism — is extremely manipulative and divisive because I grew up being told to hate the Jews and, in the same breath, being told that Jews are our cousins. Well, which one is it?

Jacobsen: That’s a good one.

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes. The problem, especially with this conflict, and the problem that Arabs have had historically in the last 100 years, is 100% tied to Zionism, not to Judaism as a faith at all. Jews and Christians, to Muslims, are people of the book — they are believers. They’re all part of what’s called in Arabic, “Ahl al-Kitab,” which means the people of the holy books, the three Abrahamic religions. So, we are not taught to hate Jewish or Christian people of faith. Still, in modern history, we are taught to hate the Jews because of their ties to Zionism and Israel and the whole conflict in Palestine. One issue is political, and the other is religious, which is why you’ll hear many religious Jews and rabbis defending the Palestinian people or defending Muslim people because they recognize the difference between the two. I know that’s not the topic we’re focusing on here, but I’m trying to explain how this happens.

Jacobsen: This is what happens. Yes, it’s long-form for a reason. When I was growing up, I lived in a small town in Fort Langley, British Columbia, Canada. It was the founding area of British Columbia and was a small arts and farming community. Over time, the largest private university in the country opened up there. It’s evangelical in orientation, much like having Liberty University five minutes down the road. That’s the vibe.

I often joke that I look like someone who was meant to be a youth pastor or a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Pete Holmes has a similar joke about looking like someone who should be playing a guitar with a rainbow strap, rapping about the Lord. So, I get the look.

I was evangelical for about two months. I was in drama class and a loner kid. I wrote two plays, one of which was named While Away Hogwash. The drama teacher was a former addict — nothing against him for that — and he was a flashy guy. He was married and was the one who led us to church. He was that guy.

He had a son who was also flamboyant, and later, after high school, the son came out as gay. People were like, “Whoa, surprise.” He was in drama, so there were some stereotypical expectations, but it was still a moment for everyone.

We had an all-boys group where we’d read together. I remember reading a chapter like John 1: “In the beginning was the Word…” I read the whole book. I remember someone saying, “You’re making it look bad.” After reading quite a bit, it became clear that it was nonsense, so I left. Pretty much immediately after that, those friends were gone, too.

I understand the mentality of when you leave — you’re leaving not just a belief but also a social group. Those people were probably quietly told not to hang out with me anymore. Coming from an alcoholic family, I noticed a similar sentiment in that kind of abusive structure. If other parents found out about it, they would distance themselves. It’s a social deterrent.

I noticed a similar pattern in many stories of people leaving faiths. It’s a conscious social deterrent: “Don’t hang out with them anymore.” It’s not just that you might leave for another country; even within the community, there’s a deliberate distancing.

When I left, there was no ethnic colouring to it. It wasn’t like an African American single mother leaving the black church and being considered to have lost her “black card.” Some humanists who are indigenous in Canada and have stopped believing in the Creator and the spirituality around it still take part in cultural practices like smudging. In some communities, they are now considered not indigenous anymore, or in American terms, not Native American anymore.

My experience didn’t have any of that ethnic colouring. I wasn’t considered “not white” or anything like that. I didn’teven have to take on the title of ex-Christian. I didn’t have to play by the theological label game of Christians. Even when I’vewritten critical articles about my hometown, I haven’t been called “Christianophobic.” I’ve critiqued the university; I’vecritiqued the churches.

I’ve critiqued the main religious-based recovery programs there. I received the longest email I’ve ever received from the son of the co-founder of that recovery program, which ended up with me interviewing him — a long story.

I share these contexts to make it concrete and specific, to show that I didn’t have to deal with some of the issues others face. When we bring up Arab or South Asian issues, it’s clear that Arab communities may be more restricted, leading South Asians to come forward more prominently. While men are becoming more prominent, women often feel more fear in these situations. I didn’t feel fear when I left my faith; I felt the pain of losing friends. That was a big loss, but I moved on.

All these issues, including the socio-political game of labels, didn’t come up for me. Whether you call yourself ex-Muslim or an organization like EXMNA uses the label, you’re engaging with the language games of that theology, especially when it’s Anglicized. When you critique it, you’re playing that same game, and then you’re called Islamophobic. The consequences people face are a strong reason to continue conversations around grassroots organizing for women leaving the faith, whether they’re Arab, South Asian, or anyone else.

Aysha, you mentioned you’re still determining whether such spaces are needed.

A. Khan: It’s so dependent on individual circumstances. For example, I don’t fear physical harm from my family, even though I’m still closeted. I fear their disappointment, and that’s enough to keep me silent while still creating space for advocacy. Women are more resilient in their apostasy because the stakes are higher, and the other side offers something better than what they currently have. That’s why, anecdotally, I hear more from men struggling with leaving. They feel the acute loss of family, community, financial, and emotional support. For women, it’s often so dire that they’re more willing to cut ties, as I have in my life.

Faulk-Dickerson: This resonates because women often have nothing to lose. Conversely, men go from having power, prestige, and freedom to suddenly being alone, with no idea how to be resilient or handle being judged or told they’rewrong. Women grow up with these challenges ingrained in their psyche, so it’s another battle for them. This difference in experience is spot on.

A. Khan: Women have little to lose and much to gain, so they’re willing to bear the challenges. Islam imposes compulsory practices on men, while women have more flexibility due to biological factors like menstruation. For men, leaving the faith can feel like a total loss of self, as Islam roots them in their masculinity. They are traditionally seen as the head of the household, the law-givers.

Jacobsen: Armin Navabi and I did an in-depth series of interviews, one of which was about his mother passing away. She prayed for Atheist Republic, which was great. Still, his story also included a moment from his teenage years when he attempted suicide. He was running the line of logic for eternal well-being and saw that as the way to get to heaven. So, those cases are extreme. Yes, they might go on YouTube and crack jokes. Still, there’s a big path behind it — literally a kid likely dealing with depression and suicidal ideation.

A. Khan: Yes, the other thing is that Islam almost promises men so much more than it promises women.

Jacobsen: It promises men more because it promises men and women.

Faulk-Dickerson: Exactly. You’ve got to get those 72 virgins somewhere.

Jacobsen: Now, I’ve heard — this is a small point — but I’ve heard one interpretation that those “72 virgins” might be “72 white raisins.” Is that correct?

A. Khan: Please stop. No. Who would even want that?

Faulk-Dickerson: And by the way, we focus so much on the 72 virgins, but we don’t talk enough about another part of the Quran that mentions men having beautiful young boys as well. Ayesha, have you ever seen that?

Jacobsen: Wait, no. Are they Greek? It sounds like it.

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes.

A. Khan: A Surah in the Quran mentions young boys, but no one talks about it. “Prophet, We have made lawful for you the wives whose bride gift you have paid, and any slaves God has assigned to you through war, and the daughters of your uncles and aunts on your father’s and mother’s sides, who migrated with you.”

Jacobsen: Booty and bounty.

Faulk-Dickerson: The word in the Quran is “Ghilman,” which means young boys in Arabic. The Surah says there will be a circulation among the young boys as if they were pearls that are well protected. Of course, the interpretation is that these young servant boys are just there to help and serve, not for sexual purposes. But if you Google it, you’ll see discussions among Muslim men asking if this means they can have sex with them in heaven. It isn’t comforting, especially when you consider that we often focus on the virgins but ignore the pedophilic undertones present in some interpretations of Islam. This is also why I say there’s no difference between FLDS (Fundamentalist Latter-Day Saints) and Islam in some aspects.

Jacobsen: I’m working on another project featuring the stories of a couple of women who have suffered clergy-related abuse within Orthodox Christianity. One of the women was a victim in her early twenties, which became a scandal, and the other was assaulted a year and a half ago in her early forties. She’s married, has a child, holds a doctorate in neuroscience, and works at an institute. She’s now committed herself to studying the brains of trauma survivors and cadavers, including those of sexual abuse victims, potentially.

In her research, she’s found that the brains of these victims show not only dysfunctional changes but also structural changes. This suggests that the entire neurological system among victims of such assaults becomes dysregulated. The long-term impacts of this are still not fully understood, but you can imagine the consequences. We’re working on cataloging the research and the voices of people who know what they’re talking about when it comes to clergy-related sexual abuse within Orthodoxy, the second-largest denomination of Christianity.

Faulk-Dickerson: Western women who convert to Islam. Aysha, I’d love to hear what you’ve experienced if you’veencountered some of them. But when I asked them, “You had all the freedom in the world; why did you choose Islam?” The answer I often get is, “I was lost, and Islam tells me everything I have to do. I don’t have to worry about anything. I wake up in the morning, and it’s all laid out for me.”

Yes, it’s all laid out for them. They feel protected and safe. No one will abuse them. They don’t have to worry about drugs, temptation, sex, alcohol — all of that is forbidden. It keeps them on track. This is why so many people convert to Islam in U.S. prisons — because it’s so rigid. It gives them a path forward because it creates a structure they never had before. Everything is off-limits, and that’s what they need.

Jacobsen: I’ve interviewed Muslims who are of relative prominence in Canada. Some issues they might bring up include how anyone who presents as Middle Eastern, whether or not they are Muslim, is often assumed to be Muslim and faces Islamophobia — or, more accurately, anti-Muslim and anti-Arab sentiment. Suppose a community were formed where women could share stories, coordinate, and network to make them more resilient and less easily targeted. How do we prevent what has unfortunately happened in some secular communities over the past 20 years? How do we avoid encouraging anti-Arab, anti-South Asian, or anti-Muslim sentiment in the advocacy work while protecting women who have come out of difficult circumstances?

A. Khan: It’s not possible to completely avoid that storm. We have to weather it and walk through it.

Faulk-Dickerson: The conversation often misses the socio-economic aspect. We focus on ethnicity, race, and religion but forget the economic disparities within the Muslim world — especially within the Arab Middle Eastern world, which has significant disparities between countries like Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Kuwait, Qatar, and others like Egypt, Algeria, and Libya. Then you have Pakistan, Indonesia, India, and Turkey, somewhere in the Middle. Then there’s Iran, which is the enemy of almost everyone. The socio-economic piece is crucial because, within the Muslim world, there is extreme prejudice based on these disparities.

This doesn’t necessarily answer your question, but it’s all conflated. You can’t escape any of these labels or attacks. I’mhalf Italian. I look more like my mother’s side of the family than my dad’s. My dad was fair-skinned, Northern Arab, so I could easily pass or hide. Still, the moment my background comes out, the narrative, the conversation, and people’sreactions to me change. So, you can’t escape it. Aysha, do you have any thoughts on this?

A. Khan: No, I have no idea how to answer that question. It’s tough. I genuinely don’t.

Jacobsen: This is the preferred flavour of conversation, with each of these identities as a flavour. In North America and Western Europe, generally right now, that’s newer. It also ignores the wider and more important question: is it true? People are leaving generally because they don’t find Islam to be true. They think Islam is false, and so they leave. So, in terms of how you identify, ensuring people are treated with dignity and worth and that their human rights are respected and not abused is important. Yet the fundamental point with a lot of these questions is that most people are leaving, not just because they’re abused or oppressed, though that may be part of the narrative. In my discussions, a lot of the time, they’re arguing that Islam is false, that they don’t believe the premises, and that it seems ridiculous to them.

Faulk-Dickerson: That’s a privileged position. For many, that comes from a space of privilege — they are hyper-educated, probably progressive, and from families that have lived a somewhat modern, westernized life. I would say I fall under that category potentially, from my family’s perspective, because my family was not religious. So, from that standpoint, yes, I am privileged, educated, and intellectual. I was able to make this decision. But suppose I look back at my upbringing, culture, and society I grew up in. In that case, it’s easy to forget the trauma when you’re rationalizing it, intellectualizing it, and philosophizing it. It’s easy. But for most people who leave, that isn’t even an option. You don’tweigh those two things as an opportunity. It’s running for your life. That’s from the Arab perspective. It may differ slightly from the South Asian or North African perspectives.

A. Khan: Yes, exactly. That’s a very Western perspective, but it is a choice between life and death in South Asia and the Middle East.

Jacobsen: I’ve noticed that much work is being done campaigning against allegations of witchcraft in Africa. This is relevant, so don’t worry; it’s not off-topic. In interviews with people in Africa who are humanists, atheists, or agnostics, the only ones who don’t bat an eye when I bring this up are those who have had to deal with periods of not only European Christian colonialism but also Arab Islamic colonialism, and the precolonial superstitions before either of those. You get these witchcraft allegations, typically against older women or the disabled, who are often prejudiced against, sometimes even killed, because they’re claimed to be possessed by demons or practicing witchcraft. In the West, we accept discussion about European Christian colonialism more in public conversation. Yet, we do not critique Arab colonialism in history too without unjustified personal attacks. African freethinkers don’t deny the history because they’ve experienced it. So, what parts of the conversation do you typically find are almost taboo for ex-Muslim women to express when they’re coming out here? In a sense, they leave. It’s a reason that’s percolating so subterraneously that it doesn’t come up in a formalized or conscious way.

Faulk-Dickerson: From the person who leaves or from the judgment around them? The person who leaves. Personal?

Jacobsen: Yes, the person, the individual who leaves.

Faulk-Dickerson: Yes. So, the hardest piece for some is, “What if it’s all true and what if I’m going to hell?” You’re so brainwashed with the torture that’s ingrained in you. You’re taught that torture begins the moment you enter your grave. It’s like a horror movie: demons and angels come to you. If you are good, the angels speak to you; if you are bad, the torment begins. You hear the footsteps of the people who buried you walking away. Immediately, you come back to life and feel everything around you. For me, I never paid much attention to that, but I know it traumatized my sister. She still worries about it, asking, “What if it’s true?” So, you’re essentially trying to deconstruct this idea that the moment you die, the torture begins and continues for eternity. That’s one of the hardest things for people who have been deeply indoctrinated in the religion.

For others like me, as much as I heard it, it went in one ear and out the other. But the hardest part for me was that I could be a target. You could put your life in danger just by speaking against it.

A. Khan: Yes, I would have to second that. I can’t think of anything that’s like a taboo in the way you described it, like witchcraft — something that would still trigger you in a way. I can’t think of anything specific.

Faulk-Dickerson: Although the devil is a big part of it, It’s always the devil. You’re told the devil is there, that the devil possesses you, that he’s whispering in your ear. She is whispering in your ear. So, there are these demons and voices that are said to take over your sanity and purity. That’s a piece of it that many people worry about. Another taboo thing that could be considered is the concept of the evil eye, which is also present in South Asian and Southeast Asian countries, but especially in the Arab world, particularly the peninsula. It’s called “hesed,” which translates to the evil eye in Arabic. It’smentioned multiple times in the Quran. Someone casting an evil eye spell on you is like black magic — envy that manifests into a curse or despair.

A. Khan: I need to hop off because I have a meeting, too, but thank you so much, Scott. If you need help with anything, I’m happy to assist. Jasmin, it was lovely meeting you. I’m so happy you were able to join.

Faulk-Dickerson: I should mention that “hesed” translates to envy. It’s considered envy.

Jacobsen: One typical argument is about Ayesha being married at 6. I vaguely recall someone saying, “Oh, he was saving her from a bad circumstance, so the way to protect her was through marriage under a male leader.”

Faulk-Dickerson: But do people know who Ayesha was?

Jacobsen: No.

Faulk-Dickerson: Aside from being his wife, she was the daughter of his best friend, Abu Bakr, who later became the first caliph of Islam after Muhammad’s death. This was a power move. Abu Bakr married off his daughter to secure his position as the next leader. It was all about consolidating power. According to the records, Muhammad married Ayesha when he was 53, and she was only 6. He had 11 wives in total. The title given to his wives was “Umul Mu’minin,” meaning “Mother of the Believers.” Ayesha was one of the first, maybe the third, wives and was particularly influential. She was the youngest and stayed by Muhammad’s side until his death. She is credited for many of his sayings (hadiths), which she narrated. These hadiths, where Ayesha is the narrator, are considered undisputed because she was the closest person to him. She is the only female figure whose voice is prominently heard in Islam.

In the Quran, the Virgin Mary is the only woman officially mentioned, and there’s a whole Surah dedicated to her. It is interesting when people mention Mary as an important figure. Still, she is revered only because she is the mother of Jesus, not because of who she is independently. Jesus had to be born of a woman, so Mary was elevated.

Ayesha and the Prophet’s wives, by default, are mentioned. Still, it’s not as if they were strong feminist figures in the sense we understand today. They were influential, but all in service to Muhammad, not for themselves. 

How do they justify this? That could be a whole new session in itself. This topic is vast and would be worth focusing on in detail. If you want to delve deeper into this subject, check out Nuriyah Khan. She’s a British-Pakistani who runs a podcast. I’ve been on her show, and she’s one of the few who openly critiques Muhammad’s practices and character. Many of us are still cautious about speaking out publicly due to the real dangers, like fatwas. But Nuriyah is fearless in talking about it openly.

Jacobsen: Thank you for the opportunity and your time, Jasmin.

License & Copyright

In-Sight Publishing by Scott Douglas Jacobsen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. ©Scott Douglas Jacobsen and In-Sight Publishing 2012-Present. Unauthorized use or duplication of material without express permission from Scott Douglas Jacobsen strictly prohibited, excerpts and links must use full credit to Scott Douglas Jacobsen and In-Sight Publishing with direction to the original content.