Tuesday, August 17, 2010

a short musing on Ramadan, fat & Depression

Ramadan Mubarak (The blessings of Ramadan upon you)!

We, Muslims, will shortly be completing our first week of fasting. In Islam Ramadan is a holy month believed to be when the first revelations of the Qur'an began. During this month, from sunrise (well actually before sunrise) to sundown, we abstain from food, water, sex (only during the daylight hours!) and vain/undesirable talk. We increase our charity to the disenfranchised and needy.

You will find many Muslims during this month offering long night prayers at their mosque; attempting to complete a full reading of the entire Qur'an (in addition to other religious materials); and generally ceasing habits that distract you from getting the full benefits of the month (for example television, movies, hanging out with friends and all that good stuff!)

So what does Ramadan look like for the Fat Hijabi?

I rise about an hour and half before the morning prayer comes in (fajr) around 3:00 am, I eat a breakfasty meal with my husband, read Qur'an, pray fajr and try to get some exta sleep.

Then I go about the work of my day pretty normally except for the dry mouth and empty stomach. Until I return home and break the fast with dates, water, prayer and then an evening meal.

Right now I am preparing for the approaching semester (I teach composition at two local community colleges). I also am trying to continue my research on a dissertation in English literature.

Finally, I am battling depression while attempting to maintain the requirements of my faith. It ain't easy.

My depression began in February of this year due to some intense revelations (more on this later perhaps). It ebbed and flowed as time moved on but I approached Ramadan with anxiety and trepidation. I can't do it, I just can't was the refrain I cried to those close to me who would listen-those aware of my depression, its causes and its crippling hold on my spirit.

Well, I am doing it. Or trying my best. But I am still in that depressive space. Some of you may know it. That narrow corner whose close walls are cramped but also the only area where you feel that you can breath or exist-at least for the time being.

I am staying close to home- not yet able to be in large gatherings. Oh, those large gatherings are mainstays of the Ramadan season. These spaces also are the areas where I feel most aware of my fatness-in the most malignant of ways.

What I have found during this time of depression is the way in which the default setting is always to blame fat for things it has nothing to do with. It is an easy culprit to explain why things go wrong.

In our popular culture-losing the fat has become almost synonymous with breaking free of sadness-of entering into bliss.

I have found that my body anxiety has increased. I have dreams of stepping on the scale and finding that I have magically gained 100 pounds although within the dream my physical form has not altered.

In this time of fasting and body anxiety, I cringe at soapbox moments where Muslims disparage other Muslims for being gluttonous in the breaking of their fast for I hear lurking behind these comments unsaid remarks about fatness and its immorality.

So right now I seek solitude. And I find that I do feel spiritual joy if a little quieter than years before.

I also-in this sometimes emotional abyss- understand more and more why I cling to the tiniest morsels of fat and size acceptance. I have never had a strong sense of belonging to anything-yet in this space of acceptance I find a home-albeit fragile and shifting.

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