A gay Muslim’s acceptance by the community or family is dependent upon many factors outside of religion. On the one hand, it may be easier to come out in North America, Europe or Australia, where there is a larger gay support network as well as a secular culture pushing for gay acceptance. While in many Muslim countries, the practice of sex segregation has given rise to a kind of “homo-culture” — where one’s first sexual experience is with a person of the same sex, simply because the opposite is unreachable.
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Note: This Is A Guest Post By Taiyyaba
Ameir, my husband, is of Syrian descent. He also grew up with a lot of friends from India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh whose mothers fed him while he was in college. (I like to think he hung out with Desi, or South Asian people because he was preparing himself to marry me.)
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These hamburger buns are so easy to make and so delicious. Once you make them, you won’t be able to buy buns at the store again!
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Well now that you know what’s been on my mind lately… here’s a little something on Sex in Islam and Sex with Muslims.
You don’t often hear about Muslims and sex. Maybe that’s because we always seem to be having babies — and you all know how much sex a couple with a baby (or two, or three…) is having.
But in the Media, the topic of sex in Islam is second only to niqaab and terrorism. Primarily because hetero sex, sexual expression, sexual freedom, sexual exploitation, and sexual stereotypes at times deals with female liberation VS male dominance, and the Western Media really, really wants to liberate Muslim women. How on earth can a woman who’s covered from head to toe in that black thing be having sex? Good sex? Enjoying sex? Selling sex? Kinky sex? How on earth indeed. How on a bed, in a car, on a train, in a shower, with herself, with more than one partner, with a same sex partner? Muslims? No way.
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Note: The following is a guest post from Taiyyaba
I was always destined to be a foodie. My favorite short stories, or favorite parts of longer tales, were always about what food everyone was eating. So naturally, I loved the story of Stone Soup. The story of the old man who started with a rock and some water, and ended up with a mouthwatering stew was entirely enchanting to my child self. I could always taste the savory broth on my tongue and smell the strong aroma by the end of the story.
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So what happens when God leaves a woman’s manner of worship up to her own interpretation? Someone else invariably interprets it for her.
Two very interesting articles recently made their way to me.
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