“An Ordinary Muslim”
Aviva
Stahl, The Intercept, March 11, 2018
The Clichés
of Culture Clash on Stage
of Culture Clash on Stage
Representation
matters, on the stage as in the rest of the arts and popular culture, and
both the United States and the United Kingdom desperately need more Muslim
playwrights telling stories about Muslim families and Muslim experiences on
stage. But representation alone isn’t enough, as shown by a new play that
reifies, rather than troubles, the Islamophobic myths that undergird the war on
terror.
matters, on the stage as in the rest of the arts and popular culture, and
both the United States and the United Kingdom desperately need more Muslim
playwrights telling stories about Muslim families and Muslim experiences on
stage. But representation alone isn’t enough, as shown by a new play that
reifies, rather than troubles, the Islamophobic myths that undergird the war on
terror.
Hammad
Chaudry’s “An Ordinary Muslim,” which runs through March 25 at the New York
Theatre Workshop, is about a British-Pakistani couple living in London.
Directed by Jo Bonney and set in 2011, the play attempts to explore the
tensions and conflicts that shape the lives of British (and presumably
American) Muslims growing who’ve grown up in the shadow of 9/11. But in
fixating on the idea that second-generation Muslims are “trapped” between two
worlds, and writing a Muslim male protagonist whose life is derailed by his
anger and trauma, Chaudry’s characters fall into the same stereotypes that they
purport to challenge.
Chaudry’s “An Ordinary Muslim,” which runs through March 25 at the New York
Theatre Workshop, is about a British-Pakistani couple living in London.
Directed by Jo Bonney and set in 2011, the play attempts to explore the
tensions and conflicts that shape the lives of British (and presumably
American) Muslims growing who’ve grown up in the shadow of 9/11. But in
fixating on the idea that second-generation Muslims are “trapped” between two
worlds, and writing a Muslim male protagonist whose life is derailed by his
anger and trauma, Chaudry’s characters fall into the same stereotypes that they
purport to challenge.
Although
it has been praised
as “timely,” I had my suspicions about “An Ordinary Muslim” from the promotional
materials, which described the play as “about married couple Azeem Bhatti and
his wife Saima as they attempt to balance their Pakistani heritage and their
British upbringing … balancing the high expectations of the previous
generation, the doctrine of their Muslim community, and the demands
of secular Western culture.”
it has been praised
as “timely,” I had my suspicions about “An Ordinary Muslim” from the promotional
materials, which described the play as “about married couple Azeem Bhatti and
his wife Saima as they attempt to balance their Pakistani heritage and their
British upbringing … balancing the high expectations of the previous
generation, the doctrine of their Muslim community, and the demands
of secular Western culture.”
It’s a
framing that takes for granted that Muslim/South Asian cultural and religious
norms stand at odds with British/Western values – an assumption that scholars
and political thinkers have been contesting for decades. Second (and third and
fourth) generation immigrant Muslims and South Asians aren’t merely assimilated
into British culture – they create and co-constitute it. “The emphasis on
‘culture clash’ disavows the possibility of cultural interaction and fusion,”
writes the now-retired British sociology professor Avtar Brah in her seminal
1996 text, “Cartographies of Diaspora.”
framing that takes for granted that Muslim/South Asian cultural and religious
norms stand at odds with British/Western values – an assumption that scholars
and political thinkers have been contesting for decades. Second (and third and
fourth) generation immigrant Muslims and South Asians aren’t merely assimilated
into British culture – they create and co-constitute it. “The emphasis on
‘culture clash’ disavows the possibility of cultural interaction and fusion,”
writes the now-retired British sociology professor Avtar Brah in her seminal
1996 text, “Cartographies of Diaspora.”
The
play’s framing takes for granted that Muslim/South Asian cultural and religious
norms stand at odds with British/Western values.
Journalists
writing about British and American Muslim experiences post-9/11 also tend to
structure their reporting around the same dated stereotypes. For instance, in “How America
Is Transforming Islam,” published in The Atlantic this past
December, Emma Green begins with the pronouncement that “American culture often
presents two opposing paths for young Muslims”: to “assimilate” or not, using
clichéd storylines about arranged marriages and the presumed shame of being an
unmarried Muslim woman. Writer Ayesha Siddiqi argued in a Twitter
thread about the Atlantic piece that these stories about diasporic
South Asian Muslims were being used to dehumanize, rather than the reverse.
“Muslims experience love and have sex, this should not be a sentence I have to
emphatically share as if its new information,” she tweeted.
writing about British and American Muslim experiences post-9/11 also tend to
structure their reporting around the same dated stereotypes. For instance, in “How America
Is Transforming Islam,” published in The Atlantic this past
December, Emma Green begins with the pronouncement that “American culture often
presents two opposing paths for young Muslims”: to “assimilate” or not, using
clichéd storylines about arranged marriages and the presumed shame of being an
unmarried Muslim woman. Writer Ayesha Siddiqi argued in a Twitter
thread about the Atlantic piece that these stories about diasporic
South Asian Muslims were being used to dehumanize, rather than the reverse.
“Muslims experience love and have sex, this should not be a sentence I have to
emphatically share as if its new information,” she tweeted.
Similarly,
in “An Ordinary Muslim,” our interest in Azeem isn’t rooted in his ordinariness
when it comes to white Brits, but his presumed difference. That’s the narrative
we’ve bought tickets to consume – and it’s not one that allows for much nuance
about the Bhatti family.
in “An Ordinary Muslim,” our interest in Azeem isn’t rooted in his ordinariness
when it comes to white Brits, but his presumed difference. That’s the narrative
we’ve bought tickets to consume – and it’s not one that allows for much nuance
about the Bhatti family.
Some of
the actors in the play give commanding and convincing performances, but the
acting was mixed overall, and many of the main characters seem more like
composite stereotypes than complex figures. The mother, Malika, is defined only
in terms of her (apparent) complicity with patriarchal values (“You don’t know
what it means to be a wife. No, you don’t have it in you,” she tells her
daughter-in-law, Saima, in one scene.) The father, Akeel, is a violent man who
appears to dominate his family as a result of the marginalization he endures in
the rest of his life. His abuse of his wife, and its ripple effects on the
family, are at the heart of the play’s narrative.
the actors in the play give commanding and convincing performances, but the
acting was mixed overall, and many of the main characters seem more like
composite stereotypes than complex figures. The mother, Malika, is defined only
in terms of her (apparent) complicity with patriarchal values (“You don’t know
what it means to be a wife. No, you don’t have it in you,” she tells her
daughter-in-law, Saima, in one scene.) The father, Akeel, is a violent man who
appears to dominate his family as a result of the marginalization he endures in
the rest of his life. His abuse of his wife, and its ripple effects on the
family, are at the heart of the play’s narrative.
Azeem is
the very much the wounded boy from the troubled home – insecure, self-serving,
and in desperate need to protect his ego. When his wife starts to wear hijab at
work, he vociferously objects, since he fears doing so might endanger her job.
He has had to quit his job at a bank because of an altercation with his boss
over a racist joke, forcing Saima to help support the family.
the very much the wounded boy from the troubled home – insecure, self-serving,
and in desperate need to protect his ego. When his wife starts to wear hijab at
work, he vociferously objects, since he fears doing so might endanger her job.
He has had to quit his job at a bank because of an altercation with his boss
over a racist joke, forcing Saima to help support the family.
“You can
make me go to work and take my hijab off, carry this family on my shoulders …
but you can’t apologize? That’s how little I mean to you?” Saima asks her
husband in the second act of the play.
make me go to work and take my hijab off, carry this family on my shoulders …
but you can’t apologize? That’s how little I mean to you?” Saima asks her
husband in the second act of the play.
Azeem
responds coldly and callously. “Why are you takin’ it like this? For fuck’s
sake, I’m not down and out, I’ll get back on my feet, then you can wear the
whole fuckin’ burqa for all I care.”
responds coldly and callously. “Why are you takin’ it like this? For fuck’s
sake, I’m not down and out, I’ll get back on my feet, then you can wear the
whole fuckin’ burqa for all I care.”
What
drives the plot in “An Ordinary Muslim” isn’t Islamophobia or white racism, but
Azeem’s volatile, juvenile, and sometimes nonsensical modes of moving through
the world. It’s a structure that defeats the most risky moments in the play,
casting Azeem as a potential source of danger, instead of a man alienated by
the U.K.’s racist past and present. His personal experiences of discrimination
all appear offstage. When he does make a political point, it’s undermined by
the way he’s scripted, as someone impulsive and erratic to the point of
incredulity.
drives the plot in “An Ordinary Muslim” isn’t Islamophobia or white racism, but
Azeem’s volatile, juvenile, and sometimes nonsensical modes of moving through
the world. It’s a structure that defeats the most risky moments in the play,
casting Azeem as a potential source of danger, instead of a man alienated by
the U.K.’s racist past and present. His personal experiences of discrimination
all appear offstage. When he does make a political point, it’s undermined by
the way he’s scripted, as someone impulsive and erratic to the point of
incredulity.
For instance,
Azeem yells at his friend David in a fight in a pub, “You robbed my land
killing anyone who got in the way, doing it all to make your own country
richer. … Is it any wonder that people such as those British Muslims, with
their British passports, have finally woken up and decided to start killing you
back?” But the framing of the exchange doesn’t enable the audience to take
Azeem’s sentiments seriously. At the end of the play, after Saima leaves him,
Azeem decides to escape England for somewhere, though he’s not sure where, and
his decision reads as more hapless than political.
Azeem yells at his friend David in a fight in a pub, “You robbed my land
killing anyone who got in the way, doing it all to make your own country
richer. … Is it any wonder that people such as those British Muslims, with
their British passports, have finally woken up and decided to start killing you
back?” But the framing of the exchange doesn’t enable the audience to take
Azeem’s sentiments seriously. At the end of the play, after Saima leaves him,
Azeem decides to escape England for somewhere, though he’s not sure where, and
his decision reads as more hapless than political.
“An
Ordinary Muslim” reflects how the British and American security apparatus have
come to understand the “problem” posed by Muslim men and women.
Rather
than enable the mostly white audience to recognize themselves (or broader
structural or political forces) as the drivers of Azeem’s pain, the play
locates his suffering in his emotional life. In that sense, “An Ordinary
Muslim” actually reflects how the British and American security apparatus have
come to understand the “problem” posed by Muslim men and women.
than enable the mostly white audience to recognize themselves (or broader
structural or political forces) as the drivers of Azeem’s pain, the play
locates his suffering in his emotional life. In that sense, “An Ordinary
Muslim” actually reflects how the British and American security apparatus have
come to understand the “problem” posed by Muslim men and women.
Today, in
Britain, public sector workers – including teachers, doctors, and social
workers – are required by law to assess and report their charges for being at
risk of “extremism,” which is defined by statute as “vocal or active opposition
to fundamental British values.” Under the Prevent program, people are supposed
to be assessed for their “vulnerability to being drawn into terrorism” based on
a range of possible factors, including “a need for identity, meaning and
belonging”; “need to dominate and control others”; “desire for political or
moral change”; “being at a transitional time of life”; “relevant mental health
issues”; and “‘Them and Us’ thinking.” As an recent Open Society report explains,
expressing “anti-British” political views or taking on certain religious
practices make people particularly susceptible to being labeled “extremist.”
It’s easy to imagine Azeem’s fight with David leading to that, if it had
occurred in another setting.
Britain, public sector workers – including teachers, doctors, and social
workers – are required by law to assess and report their charges for being at
risk of “extremism,” which is defined by statute as “vocal or active opposition
to fundamental British values.” Under the Prevent program, people are supposed
to be assessed for their “vulnerability to being drawn into terrorism” based on
a range of possible factors, including “a need for identity, meaning and
belonging”; “need to dominate and control others”; “desire for political or
moral change”; “being at a transitional time of life”; “relevant mental health
issues”; and “‘Them and Us’ thinking.” As an recent Open Society report explains,
expressing “anti-British” political views or taking on certain religious
practices make people particularly susceptible to being labeled “extremist.”
It’s easy to imagine Azeem’s fight with David leading to that, if it had
occurred in another setting.
Programs
like Prevent, and its U.S. corollary, Countering Violent Extremism, frame the
answer to radicalization in terms of national security policy, rather than
attempting to address the political roots of many young extremists’ grievances.
like Prevent, and its U.S. corollary, Countering Violent Extremism, frame the
answer to radicalization in terms of national security policy, rather than
attempting to address the political roots of many young extremists’ grievances.
“We like
to think our violence is rational, reactive and normal, whereas theirs is
fanatical, aggressive and exceptional,” writes scholar Arun Kundnani in an essay
published by openDemocracy just after the November 2015 terror
attacks in Paris. “But we also bomb journalists, children and hospitals. A full
analysis of radicalization needs to account for us radicalizing too, as we have
become more willing to use violence in a wider range of contexts – from torture
to drone strikes to proxy wars.”
to think our violence is rational, reactive and normal, whereas theirs is
fanatical, aggressive and exceptional,” writes scholar Arun Kundnani in an essay
published by openDemocracy just after the November 2015 terror
attacks in Paris. “But we also bomb journalists, children and hospitals. A full
analysis of radicalization needs to account for us radicalizing too, as we have
become more willing to use violence in a wider range of contexts – from torture
to drone strikes to proxy wars.”
“An
Ordinary Muslim” could have easily been called “An Angry Muslim,” and that’s
the problem with the play. It sells us the story of the irate, irrational
Muslim man, rather than troubling the way that white people living in the West
conceive of his subjectivity. Stories like these may actually subtly justify
national security policies of the United States and Britain: the surveillance,
the prosecutions, the restrictive immigration measures. Where are the stories
that speak back to these dated and flawed ideas about contemporary Muslim life
across the West? I want to see those on stage.
Ordinary Muslim” could have easily been called “An Angry Muslim,” and that’s
the problem with the play. It sells us the story of the irate, irrational
Muslim man, rather than troubling the way that white people living in the West
conceive of his subjectivity. Stories like these may actually subtly justify
national security policies of the United States and Britain: the surveillance,
the prosecutions, the restrictive immigration measures. Where are the stories
that speak back to these dated and flawed ideas about contemporary Muslim life
across the West? I want to see those on stage.
