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Remembrance Sunday

landscape red field flowers

Photo by Pixabay on

On Remembrance Sunday, I stood alongside my friend Julie and at one
point looked up into the blue-sky and sighed. I sighed noticing the
lack of diversity and the failure to recognize the contributions of
our armed forces by my community that included 1.5 million Muslims
contributing to the Allied cause in WW1.

It had me wondering about the number of Muslims who knew the history
of WW1 and so I reflected back to my history lessons. Our history
curriculum never taught us about the contributions of our Commonwealth
soldiers and if we want young Muslims to connect, we need to talk more
about the sacrifices the Indian Army made. This year marking the
centenary, British Future have been fantastic at doing just this –
running a campaign called Remember Together working with MINAB and
schools to raise awareness of the contributions of Muslim soldiers.

Flip the coin, we as a community also have a duty to see past current
conflicts and recognize that without Great Britain and the soldiers
who fought, we may not even be here today and should learn to separate
the words of politicians and those who serve our country in the armed

A touching moment was noticing the beauty & strength in uniting with
members of the Church congregation who welcomed and looked after us
with open arms. At the end of the service, a member of the
congregation turned around and apologized for the Christian service
and spoke of his ‘embarrassment’ that the service did not make more
mention of the diversity of soldiers who fought. We thanked him and
reassured him that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed and that education is
key going forward.

In a dark world where Christians, Muslims, Jewish & other faiths were
rehearsed in the rituals of burial for the inevitable, it is important
to recognize the values they lived by – respect, tolerance, humanity,
integrity, friendship, courage and love – values we should all live

The contributions of the Commonwealth should matter to everyone in a
time of where Islamophobia and far-right extremism is on the rise. We
all share a common history and one we should remember together to
bring us together. We all need to build on the work British Future
have done and be committed to sharing the stories of Commonwealth
contributions to ensure all young people of all backgrounds understand
why Remembrance Sunday is important.

By Tameena Hussain
Tameena is an IT engineer by profession but her passion lies in advocating for gender equality and  human rights all whilst being actively involved in her community, having sat on the TVP Independent Advisory Group and the One Borough Council Panel to campaigning on local issues that affect residents. A Pakistani Muslim who is breaking cultural barriers by playing amateur cricket and going against cultural norms to speak out on a number of issues that affect British Pakistanis. She has encountered her fair share of challenges along the way, and as a survivor of child sexual abuse, her experiences have made her determined to challenge the patriarchy and injustice faced by females, particularly within the Pakistani community.
Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website.


A tribute to my uncles who were gunned down in the Nazimabad attacks


You never think it’s going to happen to you… until it does.

Just over a week ago, I was in a queue with my four-year-old son. We were waiting for a train ride around the park near my parents’ house, when I received a phone call from my mum. It was the phone call that nobody ever wants to receive; the phone call that informs you of tragedy at home.

Five of my maternal uncles had been shot in Nazimabad, Pakistan. We weren’t sure who was alive at that point, but as we took to Twitter, the true reality of the horror was emerging. A ladies majlis, commemorating the martyrdom of Imam Hussain (the grandson of the Holy Prophet (SAW)) was taking place in a private residence; gunmen on motorbikes had opened fire, and three of my uncles, Naiyer Mehdi Zaidi, Nasir Abbas, and Baqar Abbas Zaidi had been gunned down in targeted killings.

My remaining two uncles, Tahir Abbas and Nadir Abbas, and my 15-year cousin, Murtaza Ali Zaidi were in critical condition in the hospital. By the mercy of Allah, they have now recovered well.

Let’s be clear here; the attacks were sectarian, specifically targeting the Shia community. Later, the militant organisation, Lashkar-e-Jhangvi took responsibility for the attacks. A spokesman for the group said: “There is no room for the enemies of the companions of the Prophet Muhammad (SAW) in Pakistan”, a reference to Pakistan’s Shia minority.

It is important to note that whoever is behind these attacks, they are following a deviant interpretation of religion aligned to ISIS and al-Qaeda. This intolerant ideology comes from Saudi’s Salafi-Takfiris; they are a violent offshoot of mainstream Islam, and this tiny minority group is giving Muslims around the world a bad name.

In Pakistan, Shias are a persecuted minority who are still not free to practice their religion without fear of being killed for their beliefs. These attacks used to take place in public places, such as mosques, schools and hospitals. Now the attacks are taking place in private residences, which means people are not even free to practice religion in their own homes.

You think that these kinds of attacks happen to other people, but there are so many Shias being targeted, the chances are that you will know someone in Pakistan affected by these acts of violence. At the beginning of October, these same hardline groups killed my friend’s cousin, Mansoor Sadiq Zaidi, in a targeted attack, as he stood with his son outside his house. 

This is genocide, and it is specifically targeting the Shia community.

But this blog post is not an account of what happened that fateful day. You can read that yourself in the newspapers that have covered the event, including The Independent, The Guardian and The Seattle Times. The news made the front page of The Evening Standard last Friday.

This blog post is intended to tell you what you might not know about my mum’s brothers. I want you to know about their magnanimous personalities, about their humanity, and their values.

My mum’s brothers were very open-minded, tolerant, loving people who touched the lives of every single person they met. As I write this post, I know that there are not enough words to express the depth of the grief I am feeling, nor are words enough to explain how incredible my uncles were.

The Nazimabad firing took place during the Holy month of Muharram, when Shias commemorate Imam Hussain’s martyrdom. Ultimately, Hussain’s struggle was about freedom from oppression; about sacrifice to protect universal human values. My uncles lived with the love of the family of the Prophet (SAW) in their hearts, and they implemented these values in their everyday lives.

During the attacks, the gunmen attempted to gain access to the ladies majlis in the house. When they could not enter, they fired gunshots on the people who were sitting outside. As the gunmen came forward, Baqar Abbas Zaidi, my mum’s youngest brother, opened up his arms to protect  the door and to stop the killers from going inside the house. He was killed instantly as the gunmen opened fire on his chest.

I think about how many lives Baqar Mamu has saved through this fearless act of self-sacrifice. By standing between the door and the gunmen, he prevented them from entering the house, thus stopping further bloodshed and carnage.

My Mum’s eldest brother was Naiyer Zaidi, a British citizen who had resided in London for more than 30 years. He loved this country as he had spent most of his adult life here.

Every year, Naiyer Mamu would go to Pakistan to commemorate the events of the tragedy of Karbala with his family. He loved to read poetry, books and literature. After retirement, he spent more and more of his time reading about Islam, and he loved to spend his time in the company of learned Islamic scholars.

It is my view that religious conviction manifests itself in the values of humanity, and Naiyer Mamu’s personality is testament to this. He was kind, he was generous and he was incredibly humble. Moreover, he would view everything in his life as an example of God’s infinite mercy. His positive outlook on life and his ability to always see the best in people is incredibly inspiring.

The true essence of religion is about akhlaaq; it’s about how you treat your fellow human beings. When my paternal grandfather, Qaiser Hussain Zaidi passed away, Naiyer Mamu truly was a rock for our family, giving us so much support and kindness in a period of great difficulty.

Another uncle who was killed on that horrible day was Nasir Abbas, a US citizen. Nasir Mamu brought joy, happiness and laughter to every single person he met. In 2008, my sister and I visited him in the US. In only a few days, Nasir Mamu had such an incredible effect on me. He had what can only be described as a magnetic personality. He was so full of life; not only was he absolutely hilarious, but we would spend hours conversing with him about many topics, including philosophy, poetry, politics. He was incredibly open-minded; he didn’t care about who you were or where you came from. He treated everyone with the same love, respect and dignity.

I have been reflecting on the personalities of my mamus and thinking about what I can learn from them. They were all so positive in their outlook, always seeing the best in every situation.

I know that they would have seen even the way they left this world as an example of God’s blessings. They lived their life through the love of the values of the Prophet (SAW) and his Holy household, and they left this world in the same way. As I watch their funeral, I know the cries of “Labaik Ya Hussain!” would have comforted their souls. They have become shaheed.

I feel so honoured and privileged to have known them, and I feel so sad that they are no longer with us. But to have left this world in the way they did is no doubt a great blessing. They have given me a lifetime of beautiful memories, and to know that so many people around the world are remembering them so fondly, is a source of great comfort.

Please pray for the departed souls of Naiyer Mehdi Zaidi, Nasir Abbas and Baqar Abbas Zaidi.

Please pray for Muhammad Zaki Khan and Nadeem Lodhi, who were also martyred in this brutal attack and for the families of the injured and the deceased.

Please also pray for the soul of Mansoor Sadiq Zaidi.

Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website.
All images are copyright of Aliya Zaidi. All rights reserved. Please do not use without permission.

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Qandeel Baloch: an outspoken feminist in a man’s world

“As a woman we must stand up for ourselves.. As a woman we must stand up for each other… As a women we must stand…“

— Qandeel Baloch

feminism cross-stitch

The tragic murder of the social media celebrity, Qandeel Baloch, is an eye-opener to societal attitudes towards women in Pakistan. This is a case which has divided the nation and exposed the contradictory and hypocritical attitudes towards women.

It is Baloch’s social media profile which divides people and emboldens the haters. While some commenters go far as saying her murder was justified, others act as nothing less than apologists. Many argue that “Oh yes, she should not have been murdered, of course…”, but then go on to shame her by commenting on her lifestyle and public profile.

There is no but. Qandeel Baloch was brutally murdered and yet still, all the focus is on what the victim did. The focus should be on the patriarchal structure of Pakistan’s society, where women are seen as the property of fathers, brothers and husbands.

The truth is, Qandeel Baloch wasn’t murdered for being provocative. She was murdered because she challenged Pakistan’s religious establishment, making a mockery of the mullahs and exposing their double standards.

Sections of the media have called Baloch “Pakistan’s Kim Kardashian” but she was so much more than that. It is disingenuous to compare her to Kardashian, who grew up in relatively affluent circumstances. Unlike social media celebrities in the West, Fouzia Azeem was born into poverty with few options in life.

“I want to give those girls a positive message who have been forcefully married, who continue to sacrifice.”

Raised in one of the poorest areas of Pakistan, she was forced to marry a much older man, who then beat her. It’s the same old story across Pakistan where girls are forced into marriage and then expected to live a life of hell where they are abused daily.

But Qandeel Baloch chose to take a stand and escaped. With little education and no support from her family, she took matters into her own hands and took to social media to make a name for herself. Her father called her “my son” because she alone supported the family.

In short, she learnt that in life, you have to depend on yourself.

“No matter how many times I will be pushed down under but I am a fighter I will bounce back. Qandeel Baloch is ‘One Women Army’.”

The videos are grainy and she wears the same outfits over and over again. There’s no sign of the privilege given to wealthy middle-class women like Kardashian. To compare her to similar social media darlings in the West totally ignores her back story and trivialises Baloch’s personal circumstances. It is not difficult to see why she went down the path she did.

People are free to ignore the content if they are offended. But both men and women comment on social media, calling Baloch a shameless slut, immoral, cheap, while at the same time, watching her videos and checking out her pictures for titillation.

You could question how a girl like Baloch could make a name for herself in an Islamic country. Pakistan calls itself an Islamic country, but I for one sometimes find it difficult to see Islam in Pakistan. This is a country where a qawwali singer is brutally murdered for simply singing about his passion for family of the Holy Prophet (PBUH). A country where minorities are slaughtered on a daily basis. A country where one of the world’s greatest humanitarians, Abdul Sattar Edhi, is condemned as an infidel by Pakistan’s mullahs. Where Malala is dismissed as a Western stooge, and where a Nobel prize winner cannot even rest in peace long after his death.

“At least international media can see how I am trying to change the typical orthodox mindset of people who don’t want to come out of their shells of false beliefs and old practices.”

But people tolerated Qandeel Baloch up to the point when all she did was post racy pictures of herself. It was when she started to speak out about women’s rights in Pakistan and when she sought to expose the double standards of Pakistan’s religious clergy that society decided enough was enough.

Qandeel Baloch’s murder is more than a so-called honour killing by an enraged brother. It is a direct reflection of Pakistani society, where women are still expected to silently submit. Qandeel Baloch, fearless, outspoken and brave, took life into her own hands and challenged the patriarchy. For that, she paid the ultimate price.

Image credit: Cross-stitch ninja via Flickr
Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website.


A British Muslim’s Message to Extremists

by Nazia


Image credit: My Eyes Are Set On Freedom #Iranelection from harrystaab

Image credit: My Eyes Are Set On Freedom #Iranelection from harrystaab

Freedom is all important to me. I say that freedom is all important to me as I know what it feels like to live in a restricted life. I was born a Londoner and as the years go by I feel that is the label closest to defining me. Being a Londoner was a gift. I was able to explore my identity as an individual more freely than if my parents had never left Pakistan. I was obsessed with identity as a child – I felt my difference to other children acutely but it never stopped me from playing with any of my school friends. I struggled with my curly hair, brown skin and felt deep pain when the same friends would turn on me with the easiest insult during a game

“You’re just a Paki, go home!”

I couldn’t fight back as the initial shock of learning I did not belong just hurt too much. The routine began of going home stinging from the rejection (we always forgave each other the next day!) and crying to my parents

“Why did you come to this country?!”

My parents would joke back at me that we could leave for Pakistan and my answer was always a resounding


The struggles of being a good Muslim/Pakistani girl and fitting in with being a Londoner caused mayhem in my teen years. I drifted towards alternatives – Buddhism, Grunge/Punk Rock, Atheism, anything that took hold of my curious mind. I came across Political Islam by accident (my mum thought I was too Western so sent me for a weekend to see cousins – she did not know they were coming under the influence of a newer politically charged Islam). At school I decided to challenge my teachers and the sensibilities of everyone by donning a scarf. This act was a rebellion. My teachers were excellent and whilst questioning this change actually challenged me to explore and explain my new found identity. I am grateful they realized by allowing me to educate myself with all the ideas that I could possibly be exposed to – I would find a path right for me and society.

As an adult I have thrown off the shackles of cultural/religious expectations whether they come from my Pakistani/Muslim heritage or British media/wider society. The sad reality of life post 9/11 is that I shudder whenever an act of terrorism occurs as I fear a backlash on the Muslim community. When I read extreme comments made by “experts” such as Ayan al-Hirsi or Douglas Murray who at one gathering proclaimed life should be made extremely difficult for Muslims in Europe as a strategy – I become afraid, afraid for my entire community. I try to reassure myself that such words will never gather momentum – they are not targeted at Muslims like me but I always remember the history lessons at school. Hateful, angry rhetoric from politicians, career academics…or rather, bogus experts competing for the hearts, minds, votes,  of the weary masses could be heard in another place called Nazi Germany. My parents often talked of their fear of being thrown out one day and I would argue against them but I am scared for my children. What difference does it make if I am not a practicing Muslim? Hate blocks out the capacity to reason.

On a brighter note I believe the majority of Britain is not blinded and easily led down the path of division – that applies to the Muslim community too.  But it is difficult in a climate in which discussion about Islam can seem polarized. Sadly, I do not always feel comfortable expressing myself among my fellow Muslims in fear of backlash from a lone hyper individual.

Image of London from cuellar, Flickr.

Image of London from cuellar, Flickr.

The political fire storm over accusations of radicalization is counter- productive and seeks only to gain votes for politicians cynically exploiting the fear of terrorism. On the other hand rogue Muslim “leaders” also exploit the fears of Muslims who have bought into the narrative of victimhood. Communities who are in the processes of settlement or generations born in Britain but undergoing the trials of balancing multiple identities as well as the worries of education, employment, life are vulnerable. These communities are exposed by political/media hysteria about extremism, sex scandals, honour killings, Sharia to those who advocate rejection of Britain as a country that accepts them.

I try to walk on an alternative path carved through reason and knowledge. I have my children and I have devoted my life to giving them the understanding of how crucial free will is – even the Pakistani poet Iqbal reminds Pakistanis that God has given humans free will.

My message to extremists on both sides is that they are not reflecting my vision of what London is. My life has shown me I must embrace my freedom and I try to celebrate being a Londoner in my consciousness everyday (because getting to this point in my life was a fight!).

Nazia is  a mother of three children. She has a degree in History (focus on modern Europe, Russia, Ottoman Empire, Origins of Islam, Mughal Empire, Middle East) from School of Oriental and African Studies London.

Images credit: My Eyes Are Set On Freedom #Iranelection from harrystaab and  London from cuellar.

Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website.