Lady Breeze

So what is Identity? Who am I? What skin color I have? What believe do I follow? Does it matter where I was born? Does it matter where I live? Where I used to live? Does it matter where I come from? Does it matter, which ethnic group I come from? Does it matter if I wear the Hijab or not? Would you care to know where my roots come from? Do we actually know it? Do we actually have hold on our grade grand parents? Would you think of me differently if I was white? If I was Black? If I was a mix? If I was blond? If I had green, blue eyes? Does it really matter to you? Why would you care? I’m an Arab, North African and Mediterranean. In love with the ideology of world religions. I’m a muslim but grew up entirely in a Catholic school. In my heart lays Austria as number one and in my vines runs Egyptian blood. To these two beloved countries, I’ll always be truthfully forever thankful. But yet in search to where I belong to, while others might judge me from only my skin color or my relig...

For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

Muhammad Ali’s story meant a lot for me - beyond the boxing he spent a lifetime preparing to meet God, and was dedicated to a path of Tassawuf, to the inward path of Love. He believed that the secret of God is revealed through the knowledge of Love. Ali strived to become a truly beautiful human being; following the Tassawuf wisdom that ‘The outer beauty of a person must merge with the inner beaut y and become one. This is the source of true beauty.’ He was most certainly such a human being, and was once asked: “What would you like people to think about you when you’re gone?”. He responded that he would like people to say: ‘He took a few cups of love. He took one table spoon of patience. One table spoon, tea-spoon of generosity. One pint of kindness. He took one quart of laughter. One pinch of concern. And then he mixed willingness with happiness. He added lots of faith. And he stirred it up well. Then he spread it over a span of a lifetime. And he served it to each and every deservi...

I often get into debates with people about women in Islam. How we dress. How we don’t dress. What we think or don’t think or should-be-thinking. I get into debates about feminism. What it is and what it isn’t. I think I’ve spawned permanent foes because I don’t care to apply the label, feminist, to describe myself. (I’m not one for labels, sorry. But if it’s even required of me, “Muslim woman” suits me just fine.) But if we could agree for a moment that there exists a pure definition of the word feminist to mean: awesomely fierce to the millionth degree, then I’d like to introduce you to Islam’s first feminist. Her name is Khadijah bint Khuwaylid. She was the wife of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him.) And she is one of the people that I think about when I face or debate issues surrounding women today. Khadija’s existence precedes mine by more than 1,400 years; and, if I can at the very least, continuously strive to emulate her character, I will consider mysel...

"Perhaps the most elusive aspect of medieval slavery is its role as spiritual metaphor, as an instrument of the religious imagination. In south India, among the pietist and fiercely egalitarian Vachanakara saint-poets of Bomma's own lifetime, for example, slavery was often used as an image to represent the devotee's quest for God: through the transforming power of metaphor the poets became their Lord's servants and lovers, androgynous in their longing; slaves, searching for t heir master with a passion that dissolved selfhood, wealth, caste and gender, indeed, difference itself. In their poetry it was slavery that was the paradoxical embodiment of perfect freedom; the image that represented the very notion of relationship, of human bonds, as well the possibility of their transcendence. This imagery would not have been unfamiliar to Ben Yiju. He and his friends were all orthodox, observant Jews, strongly aware of their distinctive religious identity. But they were ...

I know a man who lost his parents but refused to be called an orphan. Man enough to love a strong woman years older than him, worked for her and made her stronger, opened his heart to her, shared his fears to no one but her, romantic and was faithful to her till her last breath. Cleaned after himself and sewed his clothes. He was good looking, courageous and fearless. He never judged anyone on the ... ir pasts or looks, and was moderate, open minded and tolerant. His neighbour was Jewish and his cousin-in-law was a Christian priest. Was beaten and exiled when he was helpless and merciful when became stronger. Intelligent, wise and a hard worker, built a long lasting nation out of nothing in the last 20 years of his life. He had no parents, but loved his daughters and grandchildren. His last will was "Be good to women". This man is a dreamer, this man is my Prophet Mohammed, a man worth looking up to - peace be upon him-

الحلقة الثالثة من برنامج "يعني إيه تطبيق الشريعة" ..يحدثكم فيها د. فاضل سليمان من داخل كنيسة سان جورج هل نستطيع العودة بمصر إلى الزمن الجميل ؟ زمن الفهم الصحيح للإسلام , زمن لم تكن فيه عنصرية أو تطرف...حلقة رائعة وإستثنائية من برنامج "يعني إيه تطبيق الشريعة" , شاهدها بكل حواسك Please share your opinion! :)