Khadra Shami is the American daughter of Syrian immigrants Wajdi and Ebtahaj, who dreamed of more than devoting themselves to Da’wah in their tiny Muslim community in Indiana. Hadra grows up in a culture of conservative Da’wah: Deen is black and white, of certain rules that are scrupulously followed, a culture that is neglected in exchange for the purity of Islam. Going from a 10-year-old child overwhelmed with guilt for accidentally eating candy with gelatin, to a black-clad, angry teenager reading the Qutb and supporting the Iranian Revolution, to a college student conscientiously marrying young, Hadra finds the foundations of her worldview slowly cracking.
Performing the hajj was not a spiritual revolution, but a dark glimpse of what Arab youth do in the heart of Islam; after she committed herself to tajweed and hifd, Khadra was told that she must stop reading the Qur’an in mixed gatherings and that Qur’anic competitions were only open to men. Her ideal Islamic marriage begins to crumble when her husband calls in a Qawwam card to ban her from riding her bike in public – and when she becomes pregnant, only to decide on an abortion and then divorce, Khadra creates a rift between herself, her community, and everything she has known. In the years that followed, Khadra would deconstruct and reconstruct her identity as a Muslim and her beliefs about Islam.
In many ways, The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf is both a love letter and a breakup note for conservative Muslims. Kafa’s book describes with profound authenticity what it means to be raised in the West by parents steeped in Da’wah; our quirks and eccentricities and connections to a native culture we don’t always understand; our hidden hypocrisy and our secret shame. She breathes into words the tenderness of our bonds of faith, the flame of our religious passion, the complexity of our relationships. She knows who we are, how we are, and she speaks to us in our own words. Perhaps ahead of her time, she gently forces Muslim readers to confront the problems of intra-Muslim racism, the history of Black American Muslims, and the naive arrogance of immigrant Muslims,
Of course, this comes at a price. Kaf concludes his novel with Hadra following the predictable trajectory we’ve seen from many Muslims of a progressive bent: Sufism is the only acceptable rather fluffy type of Islam; all paths, even outside of Islam, lead to God; conservative Muslims are confusing, suffocating, and keeping their communities from true spiritual enlightenment. To be fair, Kaf also does not refrain from pointing out the hypocrisy of secular liberal types, and she is also much gentler and more tender in her portrayals of conservatives.
It’s worth taking a closer look at how Kaf chose to lead Khadra on the path of progress. Khadra’s story mirrors many true stories of children from religious families whose resentment over their experiences has pushed them to choose an easier path, one less rooted in Shariah observance and more vague in their understanding of spirituality. This narrative portrays progressive development as the only logical conclusion to such experiences, which is itself deeply problematic. In truth, there are many Muslims-both born Muslims and converts-who have suffered far worse than just restrictive upbringings or unhappy marriages, and who have instead chosen to commit themselves even more resolutely to orthodoxy. Spirituality is not the exclusive domain of Sufis or liberals; it is an integral part of Islam itself, even in its most conservative form.