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The contradiction in terms just does not settle well when most people hear it. But, one day, a woman who heard that I was searching for lesbian Muslims on Facebook contacted me and asked me if I wanted to go to prayer with her that Friday. There were four of us. When I saw the words together for the first time, I was equally as stunned. But this new home brought back a longing for me. For many, this is nothing notable. I was loved and fed and groomed in feminist pedagogy and historical subtext. When I stopped going, I disconnected myself from the very core of my existence. That was the last day I was in a room with all of them, I went back to Chicago the next morning. Their eyes become serious or confused. Not because I held some narrow notions of what a Muslim was, or could be, but because I thought I was the only one. Living on the West End, I see Muslim women every day. Another awkward silence followed. I worked so hard to be objective and professional that I didn't realize the radical feminist community that was being created from this project was one that I could also step into and be a part of. Standing in a Brooklyn brownstone, re-enacting a s lesbian house party, I realized that three women in the house were also Muslim. If there are so many black people, Muslim people, and gay people moving to this city, are any of them black, Muslim, and gay also? By Red Summer July 26 4: But for black, queer, Muslim women to share this space and time and meal together, it was nothing short of revolutionary. I left the mosque in shortly after I left my husband. For a while, that was all I was and I was OK with that. An identity that I could no longer access. I was not alone. That is a really good start. I might easily have said purple, polka-dotted unicorn. The first screening of my documentary happened to fall on the first week of Ramadan.
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