A year later, I finally understand.
Lovely cover- but the contents only work if you're not too hardheaded to think about them.
I met Dr. Sherman Jackson* in February of last year, shortly before "Islam and the Blackamerican: Looking Toward the Third Resurrection" was published. I heard him speak at Harvard, and weaseled my way into where he was dining with Aminah McCloud, and a few Harvard faculty. Dr. Jackson spoke of his latest book, to be released later that spring, which deals with the development of black American expressions of Islam that are unique to the black American experience. It's more analysis than survey, so anyone unfamiliar with the Nation of Islam, the Moorish Americans, or other black American groups should read McCloud's "African American Islam" first.
Dr. Jackson asserted the central theme of his book: that African American expressions of Islam are far more closely related to African American expressions of other religions than continental African expressions of Islam, owing to a concept he deems "black religion". He believes that black Americans have a unique expression of religion, one that was forged in slavery, and shapes the expression of every religion that black Americans practice.
I scoffed.
I guess I wanted to believe that black American Islam was unique, that it bore no resemblance to the stereotypical black church. I also recoiled at the idea of having any connection with the NoI, as me and Farrakhan ain't never been friends. I objected without real effect to his claims, as the Boston Globe was about to make a liar out of me.
Dr. Jackson speaks of black religion as being a child of injustice and hardship, a faith that built houses of worship out of scrap materials, or out of Nature itself, and rebuilt those churches and mosques when they were burned down. He speaks of black religion as a faith that fed the hungry, nursed the sick, taught the illiterate, and seeks freedom and justice from every pulpit and minbar. For black folk, religion and injustice are anathema; this is a defining feature of black religion. Adherents of black religion are servants of God, and their bodies may render unto Caesar, but they will not surrender their souls, God's property, to the comforts of this world.
Black religion creeps in through the ears. It's a faith of sound, of rich alto voices in gospel solos, of baritone preachers giving sermons with diction like velvet. Black religion purrs, moans, shouts, growls, weeps, croons, whispers, and serenades you to God. This began in the black church, but it didn't stay there- predominantly black mosques have those features, but in hushed forms. I'm a musician, and I should have paid better attention to the preachers I gravitated towards, and asked why. But I guess I wasn't ready for that until I was ready to go back home- literally and figuratively.
Most black folk have to decide just "how black" they are going to be, and how to adjust that to one's current environment. For some time, I held my blackness at bay, uneasy with, again, stereotypes, and wondering just how to express an African American identity that honored who I was, who I am, and who I wanted to be. I managed to start by going back to who I was before I was born.
WARNING: Extremely Black Stuff below. If you're not ready to be immersed in the slightly spooky parts of the Black experience, read no further. Go watch Wayne Brady or something.

The symbol above is the Adinkra (W.African) symbol for "Sankofa" which means "go back and fetch it". The concept is that one must go back in order to go forward. I often fetch things for my grandmother; in order to fetch myself, I need her. I ask her for stories about my family's past: she tells me tales of love and rebellion, about the struggle for knowledge and dignity, of my family's constant refusal to be defined or contained by others. I look at the pattern of my life; it's one of constantly seeking moral beauty and justice. I can choose to reject that heritage, but I have, without knowing, continued my family's legacy. It both comforted and frightened my family (I sometimes sound like my great-grandpa, a man I've never met), and it confirmed my suspicions that I hailed from a very long line of uppity Negroes. I finally gave in to the fact that I am as much a part of my heritage as my ancestors are, and I figured the same must be for my religious expression. I could give greater credence to the idea of Black Religion because I saw it expressed in me.
The day after I met Dr. Jackson, the Boston Globe published a story about women's roles in American mosques, featuring an interview with me, as I had been booted out of a Boston mosque. What the journalist didn't discuss, however, was the years leading up to the bounce- the letters, the memos to the imam, the pleading for a non-urine stained, rat infested women's space, the requests for meetings, the offers of help, the arguments, the petitions, and the fears that I couldn't be a good Muslim unless I swallowed all the hateful garbage I heard from the minbar. So here was evidence in print that I found religion and injustice incompatible, branding me an adherent of Black religion. But I still wasn't ready to embrace the idea. But God wasn't in the whirlwind of notoriety. He was in the gentle Sufi breeze that followed.
Later that year, I visited Masjid al-Farah in NYC's Soho. I had always admired Imam Feisal's khutbahs, and after I heard one live, I figured out why. That autumnal richness of Imam Feisal's voice, the honey-sweetness of his words and metaphors, were like those of black Baptist preacher – after dinner. It was the sound that drew me there, and the very fact that I can participate in Jumu'ah, not observe on TV or listen behind a screen keeps me coming back. I can't worship in a masjid where inequality dwells, for the slaves relegated to cold, cramped sections of churches, for the women barred from the pulpit, for the Muslims, Christians and Jews relegated to inferior positions in their own organizations when non-blacks entered the scene, for every voice that was not allowed to pray, sing, or call upon the god she loved, won't leave me alone. If everyone isn't welcome in a mosque, then neither am I.
Dr. Jackson's concept of black religion may be a tough one for those uncomfortable with the idea of being connected to a tradition that has been maligned and lampooned by many for centuries. I know I was. I wanted to be different from those people that I grew up with. But those people are a part of me, and to grow as a person and as a Muslim, we must all go back and fetch ourselves.
I should apologize to Dr. Jackson; I also wonder if you can get humble pie a la mode.
*Dr. Jackson and I are of no relation. We just happen to be two uppity black folk with the same name.



Comments
Fashion Mujahid posted: "I
Fashion Mujahid posted:
“I can’t worship in a masjid where inequality dwells, for the slaves relegated to cold, cramped sections of churches, for the women barred from the pulpit, for the Muslims, Christians and Jews relegated to inferior positions in their own organizations when non-blacks entered the scene, for every voice that was not allowed to pray, sing, or call upon the god she loved, won’t leave me alone. If everyone isn’t welcome in a mosque, then neither am I.”
Beautifully put! Makes me want to stand up and cheer! Thanks for putting this sentiment so eloquently into words…. Can I get that on a T-shirt please lol?
The softest things in the world overcome the hardest things in the world.
Lao Tzu
FM: Have you been going to
FM: Have you been going to the Masjid Al-Farah on any other nights? Not to get too personal, just curious if we’ve perhaps bumped into one another.
Alas, I haven't been on any
Alas, I haven’t been on any other occaision but Jumu’ah. If you’ve got a couch, or even a soft bit of floor, I’d love to stay one night and meet Sh. Farihah.
I have a very soft bit of
I have a very soft bit of floor to offer and a mattress pad-type thing to go on top. Our "couch" if you can call it that (crazy small) has cusions that people have often laid out on the floor as well. We have a small, clean, and cozy apartment with lots of cusions and pillows and the like. So if you're ever thinking of stopping by for a Thursday night, mi casa su casa. Really, any time.
Salaam, Nakia you're a true
Salaam, Nakia you’re a true scholar who doesn’t let ego get in the way of discovery. I think Dr Jackson has a good point, and it seems to me to be mostly about how culture, as result of a shared origin and adverse history (adversity pulls people together like nothing else can), expresses itself in spirituality. That’s one reason I felt much more Muslim at a blackamerican mosque than I did in the immigrant mosque: one was about spirituality and justice while the other was about…well, I’m just not quite sure what the immigrant mosque was all about, perhaps because they stood for so much, that they ended up standing for nothing in particular (I use “stand” very loosely since backbone-less people find it hard to “stand”). One had a cultural unity which begets an invaluable strength while the other was afflicted with cultural disunity.
- A Salafi in worship, a Sufi in society, a Secularist in government.
But this is how religion is
But this is how religion is SUPPOSED to be!:
“black religion as a faith that fed the hungry, nursed the sick, taught the illiterate, and seeks freedom and justice from every pulpit and minbar. For black folk, religion and injustice are anathema; this is a defining feature of black religion. Adherents of black religion are servants of God, and their bodies may render unto Caesar, but they will not surrender their souls, God’s property, to the comforts of this world.”
This is what a “real” Christian is like, IMHO, and I suppose a “real” Muslim or maybe it’s just real people.
Beautiful essay. Thank you.
hakim baker
Nakia, this is fantastic. I
Nakia, this is fantastic.
I wish I could comment on this at length. I found Jackson’s book to be one of the most illuminating I had read in ages.
I think that Muslim communities need to look to Blackamerican approaches as the model for religious and political activism. Like Hakim said, this is how religion is supposed to be.
This is the best article on
This is the best article on here so far.
I must say, black religion is more indicative of creativity, resilience, and survival against insurmountable odds.
As for cultural disunity Omar, as someone who is Persian, the “immigrant” community is disunited.
Arrogance and a sense of surperiority towards the immigrant receiving culture is an issue.
Seeing “native” Americans as morally decadent, lewd, and loose is another issue.
Inculcating “white supremacism” as a value is another, my rather dark skinned grandfather believes he is “white” since we are “the true Aryans.”
But most of the true “Aryans” may be Asiatic Caucasians, but Caucasian does not mean necessarily fair/white skin.
In general, most Persians in America are “apathetic Muslims” in name only, there are few if no Shia masjids, they are hard to find.
The Sunni Arab and Pakistani immigrants seem to monopolize their power in the “mosque scene.” Persians, though wealthy and just as arrogant as their Desi and Arab counterparts, are largely absent in the “mosque scene” as power players.
When did Pakistanis become ultra-religious and Persians become nominal Muslims?
Even in Iran, there is a Magian Renaissance.
I told Nakia once over the phone, since we converse quite frequently, NoI seems more like what an “indigenous Islam” would be despite their “heterodox” beliefs and practices.
But to me Nakia and to other reverts here, becoming Muslim does not mean disowning one’s past and breaking from one’s previous social bonds and ties, to be a truly “spiritual Muslim” means looking at the past and embracing it as a source of comfort when facing the present and the future.
To me there is a difference between being a “spiritual Muslim” and a “mechanic Muslim.”
The “mechanic Muslim” is someone who follows and immitates every known detail and aspect of the life of the Prophet, without realizing the importance of following one’s own spiritual sojourn.
I agree with GM, this is the
I agree with GM, this is the most affecting piece I have read on this site. Nakia blesses us with her heart and mind.
I dunno about being a "true
I dunno about being a “true scholar”, Omar: I rung my auntie, and she did that “Oh, NOW she gets it” routine, and went back to making dhikr.
My dad did the same, but with less drama, and more attention to ESPN.
What I’d like to see is an American Islamic movement that mimics the work of MLK, Jr. in a few ways: his work focused primarily on black folk, but his vision was expansive, and came to include poor whites, the Vietnamese during the war, and all the world’s poor and oppressed in time. His was a multi-ethnic movement that sought freedom and justice for every person, and welcomed all to the struggle. Muslims, alas, tend to be stricken with myopia or hyperopia: either we can only see about five inches from our nose, or we can’t see anything less than 1,000 miles away. Some are stricken with both.
Gustavo: My wanting to distance myself from my native culture didn’t have much to do with Islam- actually, I think being Muslim obliges me to be in closer contact with my native culture, as I’m constantly evaluating things from a moral/ethical perspective, and I must examine where my values originate. In the sixth paragraph, I talk about black folk having to decide just how “black” to be, reviling the stereotypes, and seeking distance from them. My mother had to negotiate this terrain, her Jewish faith didn’t have a whole lot to do with it. Also, living in a time when black American culture and Islam are very much mixed, there wasn’t much of an issue of not being able to be black and Muslim at the same time. We had collard greens for iftar, Eid was a black fashion extravaganza, and the black imams could go toe to toe with black preachers any day. Laury, you know this as well as I do.
Speaking of an American Eid,
Speaking of an American Eid, would anyone here want to get together for an Eid al-Fitr prayer led by Nakia? (I just volunteered you)
Central location in the North East?
I could see if I could arrange with the town to do it up here. I realize my little upstate hideaway is a bit far for anyone to drive to. People could bring sleeping bags, I have floor space. Or maybe we could stay up all night then wander downtown to Congress Park and hold our prayer? I’ve also got a big green spot next to my apartment building. Perfect for a masallah.
Or Nakia lets all go to you in Boston!
Laury, I'd love to see YOU
Laury, I’d love to see YOU up at the minbar; you’ve loads to offer us all :). I’d love to come- and as Eid will fall on my birthday, thereabouts, I’ll see if my parents would chip in a few creature comforts for the trip. Does Greyhound come anywhere near you? If so, folk could meet at the station, and arrange this whole thing. I’ll start a forum topic for the arrangements- unless you want to come to Boston, where there is a lovely, affordable hall that I used for the last Eid prayer.
Holy moly! If you've got a
Holy moly! If you’ve got a hall in Boston, let’s do it there. If we follow the Fiqh Council’s new calendar, it will be on a Monday. My day off!
We just gotta find places to crash for the night!
How about we share the duties, I’ll give the khutba if you lead the prayer. No way I am leading the prayer. I get nervous when I lead myself in prayer. (^;