Following the conviction of a Bohra priest and two others in Australia for ‘circumcision’ of two minor girls, the clerics of the Australian jamaat promptly issued a firman last month prohibiting the abhorrent practice. The jamaat in UK was quick to follow suit. The community members are now wondering how what is prohibited in Australia and UK can continue to be obligatory for Bohras elsewhere.
Meanwhile, the ban in two countries has energised the campaign for an end to Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). Giving impetus to the campaign to end the practice of ‘female genital cutting’, is the platform, www.sahiyo.com, started by a group of 5 women over a year ago. Perhaps for the first time, as part of International Women’s Day celebrations, Bohri women joined demonstrated alongside other women, Muslim and Hindu, in Mumbai, to voice their demand.
Is the community’s head priest listening?
We reproduce below the disturbing narratives of two Bohri women who had to undergo ‘khatna’ (circumcision) in their childhood, followed by an account by Sahiyo activist, Aarefa Johari of her engagement with fellow Bohris as part of Sahiyo’s ‘Each One Reach One’ campaign.
‘If Allah has sent us whole, why should we cut for the sake of God?’
Saleha Paatwala, Noida, India, Age 23
I was 7 years of age when one day my grandma took me to an unfamiliar place. I was informed that it would be a huge gathering and children like me would come as well. We came to the second floor where we were advised to sit by a woman as old as my grandma. It didn’t appear to be exceptionally happening, and out of sheer interest I asked her why we were there – to which she just grinned and said that everybody was en route. What happened next will continue to haunt me until the end of time.
After an hour, one more woman came in and asked us to follow her. It was a miserable room on the terrace, small and messy. My grandma and I sat on the little bed. The woman took out some cotton, blade and some harsh fabric and I just couldn’t comprehend what was occurring. She asked me to lie down, but I was very young and could never have imagined anything terrible could happen. I just couldn’t understand what was happening. I believed my grandma and sat down when she insisted. The other woman now began removing my underwear.
This sickened the hellfire out of me. I began fighting back, at which every one of the women, including my grandma, held my hands and feet tight so that I could not move. I was yelling as loud as possible, but no one was listening. After she had successfully taken off my underwear, the second woman spread my legs, grabbed the blade and cut something between my legs. The pain was anguishing and intolerable and it gave me an injury. She then put some cotton on that part and put my clothing back on. My grandma and two other women began giggling and saying, “Mubarak ho, iska khatna ho gaya hai.” (Congratulations, she has been circumcised).
All these years, I never had the boldness to open up and discuss this. My grandma told me that ladies get to be devout after completing khatna, and I accepted that. Then one day, we were shown a film on Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) at my college.
At that age, who has ever considered going through such an agony in the most intimate area that no youngster would even like anybody to see or touch? I didn’t really see the amount of blood that had gushed out because I had no courage to. Only after I reached home and went to pee, I saw the cotton and figured it out. I couldn’t urinate properly for three days as it tormented me that much.
All these years, I never had the boldness to open up and discuss this. My grandma told me that ladies get to be devout after completing khatna, and I accepted that. Then one day, we were shown a film on Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) at my college. It gave me goose bumps and took me all the way back to my childhood when I had been through this assault. In that film, my own community members were spreading awareness and battling this practice. It made me realise, unmistakably, that what happened wasn’t beneficial for me, wasn’t useful for anyone. That little film gave me so much courage that I can now share my dim story with everybody, even though it is still a taboo.
There is no religious aspect to this ritual. It is only a practice, a hazardous and destructive custom which is being perpetuated by individuals. It wasn’t just a little piece. It was a piece of me, my private area that no one has a right to touch without my consent. If Allah has sent us whole, why should we cut for the sake of god, to make a lady pious?
'Last generation to lose a Pinch of Our Skin'
Mariya Ali, London, UK
I was born and raised in London, England and have been a lifelong member of the London Jamaat. Although FGM has been illegal in the United Kingdom since 1985, myself and many other girls have been subjected to this barbaric ritual, despite it being outlawed.
After the Australian court case and subsequent convictions for circumcising two minor girls, the Sydney Jamaat issued a notice urging followers not to circumcise their daughters in Australia or abroad. On February 15th (2016), the London Jamaat followed suit and issued a similar notice.
The letter, similar in wording to the one that was issued by the Sydney Jamaat, points out that Islam mandates that its followers be loyal, contributing citizens who abide by the law of the land in which they reside.
Despite the UK law explicitly stating that it is illegal to take a UK citizen outside of the UK for the purpose of circumcision, I know of many minors who were circumcised while abroad. It is important to note that this has also been addressed by the letter issued by the London Jamaat. It states that “You must not take your children outside UK for purpose of khafd [FMG] as that is equally prohibited by law”.
As a woman who has undergone this barbaric ritual, and on behalf of all of the other women who have suffered, do suffer and continue to suffer, I hope that this is the first of many Jamaats to follow suit and finally stamp out this practice.
The London Jamaat is the first Jamaat after Sydney to publicly discourage followers from performing this procedure on girls. Although this is a huge step in the right direction, the notice that was issued does not condemn the practice itself, but rather it discourages followers from breaking the law.
As a woman who has undergone this barbaric ritual, and on behalf of all of the other women who have suffered, do suffer and continue to suffer, I hope that this is the first of many Jamaats to follow suit and finally stamp out this practice. I thank the decision makers of the London Jamaat for taking this step and I sincerely hope that my generation is the last generation to lose a pinch of our skin.
‘The Bohra community desperately needs a women’s movement’
Aarefa Johari, Mumbai
I have been speaking to Bohra family and friends about khatna for a few years now, but in the past 18 days, having khatna conversations as part of the Each One Reach One campaign has been a very different, heart-warming, emotional experience. Initially, when I approached Bohra relatives, the response was unenthusiastic – I was mostly just ignored. Then the Sydney Bohra jamaat decided to issue a landmark notice asking Australian Bohras to obey the nation’s laws and stop practicing khatna. This proved to be the trigger that dozens of Bohras needed to respond to khatna conversations, and suddenly, a number of cousins and friends reached out to me themselves, offering words of support.
My mother was reaching out too, by sending news articles about khatna and the Sydney jamaat decision to her own Bohra circles. Responses have been varied – some believe that the issue is insignificant, some see it as a religious tradition that must be followed, some asked questions to know more about the impact of the practice. A Bohra father told me he would never let khatna happen to his daughter.
The 'Each One Reach One' campaign has also given me an opportunity to bond with relatives I barely spoke to before – I found myself having long conversations about traditions, religion, society and patriarchy with cousins who I have not even met yet. And I discovered that there are many others who share my views and care about critically evaluating the world.
The question of khatna is essentially a question of women’s rights within religion, and it has been particularly heart-warming to see that many of those who had conversations about khatna also spoke to me about iddat – the practice of making widows mourn in isolation, dressed in white and cut off from male company for more than four months.
The question of khatna is essentially a question of women’s rights within religion, and it has been particularly heart-warming to see that many of those who had conversations about khatna also spoke to me about iddat – the practice of making widows mourn in isolation, dressed in white and cut off from male company for more than four months.
This has been the most rewarding part of the ‘Each One Reach One’ campaign. The Bohra community, like most other religious groups, desperately needs a woman’s movement. And thanks to these conversations, a debate has been triggered somewhere in minds that had so far not even given a thought to these issues.
The above content has been republished with permission from Sahiyo.