My Islam Be Black

By Sapelo Square

To be a Black Muslim woman in America is to know the generational necessity of standing as a witness on behalf of your people and speaking the truth. In her debut collection To Keep From Undressing comprising 48 poems, poet and English professor Aisha Sharif offers an unflinching commitment to truth-telling. By providing readers with a poetic pathway to better understand and confront the complexities of Black Muslim womanhood. Sharif uses language as a weaving tool to intimately explore belonging, faith, family history, pain, and self-doubt while intentionally celebrating Black culture and Muslimness with uncompromising love. In “To Muslims Who Do Not Say, Salaam” previously published on Sapelo, Sharif beautifully explores the complicated road one must travel to rediscover faith and inner peace. In this interview, we spoke with Sharif about her new book and the importance of being vulnerable and honest about hardships in her writing. 

Sapelo: Welcome back, to Sapelo. We’ve featured your poetry before, and now your book, To Keep From Undressing. The book begins with you loudly declaring, My Islam Be black. Not that “Don’t-like-white folks” kind of black. I mean my Islam be who I am- black, born and raised Muslim in Memphis, Tennessee by parents who converted black.

Tell us about the community, and people who helped to shape your faith and identity?

Sharif: My parents epitomized how seamless being Black and Muslim could be. They didn’t isolate my siblings and me from Black culture nor did they isolate us from non-Muslims. How could they when their own families (like many Black Muslim families) were Christian? Growing up, we listened to popular Black music and engaged in African dance classes. The masjid I grew up in celebrated Black culture by taking trips to the roller-skating rink, holding fish fries after Jumah, lip-synch contests and Black history programs. I also attended Sister Clara Muhammad School where we learned about Black history after Islamic studies. My teachers were Black men and women who taught us Arabic, and there was never a question as to whether they could “master” the language. They owned it and taught us quite well!

 The masjid I grew up in celebrated Black culture by taking trips to the roller-skating rink, holding fish fries after Jumah, lip-synch contests and Black history programs

Sapelo: In this work, you recall memories of women in your community and how your mother learned to reconfigure her sense of self as a new Muslim. Can you talk about how these women shaped your ideas about Muslim womanhood?

Sharif: Through dress and actions, my mother was foundational in the formation of my identity as a Black Muslim woman. There is a poem in the book, “Hot Combs and Hijabs,” in which I talk about the influence of my mother’s ability to model Black Muslim womanhood:

“My mother knew 

how to keep herself together in this faith. 

She taught me how to balance two worlds:

how to fry fish in steamy masjid kitchens 

and where to place the wine glass and soup spoon on a proper dinner table. 

She passed down her mother’s slips and camisoles, opera gloves and mink stoles, turned Sunday hats into Friday tams, switched between hot combs and hijab pins…” 

My mother and other women who attended my childhood masjid confirmed that you could be feminine and fashionable while being covered and keep connections with family traditions even with shifts in religion. These women taught me that being a Black Muslim woman is about blending traditions and mastering the intersectionality of multiple ways of existing.

My mother and other women who attended my childhood masjid confirmed that you could be feminine and fashionable while being covered and keep connections with family traditions even with shifts in religion. These women taught me that being a Black Muslim woman is about blending traditions and mastering the intersectionality of multiple ways of existing.

Sapelo: You intentionally center Black Muslim lineage as invaluable in your writing but also note the importance of learning to craft one’s own path to God. How does truth-telling play a role in this work?

Sharif: Truth-telling is very important yet challenging in the creation of faith. We must tell the truth about our lives in order to understand who we are. This is where the title “To Keep From Undressing” comes into play. If we are constantly doing things “to keep from undressing” (like denying realities), we won’t recognize or admit the truths about our lives. At some point, we have to bare ourselves — not publicly in the aspect of clothing, but in a more spiritual, and emotional sense. I realized in writing this book that I had to “undress” finally and tell the truth about my own life, admitting challenges with faith, marriage and family. In that [undressing] is a catharsis that clears the path of extra baggage, leaving insight into how to serve God as He wants. 

Sapelo: One of the central themes in this collection of poetry is an honest retelling of the complexities and joys within marriage and parenting. What lessons have you learned from love and motherhood? 

Sharif: I’ve learned so many things about love and motherhood! Most important has been the need to be vulnerable. I think as Black women we are raised to believe we have to be strong and independent to counter notions of women as weak. Some find empowerment in independent strength, yet, for me, and many other women, it can also prevent us from being vulnerable and open about the challenges we are facing. I had to stop worrying about being in control and learn to enjoy each moment. As a wife, I had to let my guard down, trust my husband’s love, and accept it in all of its gooey, romantic-ness. As for being a mother, I had to learn to be comfortable with my own type of mothering, expressing what I can and can’t handle and be ok with that, especially in light of fears of living up to my own mother’s abilities. These types of admissions were scary and layered, yet ultimately freeing.

I want Muslim women to read these poems and be proud of being Muslim but also know that within that pride, they can also express frustrations, challenges and questions. That this is a part of the religious experience and the experience of being a woman; and there’s nothing wrong with showing strength, doubt and vulnerability. Our stories are so layered and rich. I believe we represent the beauty of intersectionality.

Sapelo: Who do you hope to reach with this book? 

Sharif: To Keep From Undressing can be enjoyed by any lover of poetry and anyone who has grappled with aspects of faith and identity. But, my greatest hope, is that this book reaches Black Muslim women. The experiences and voices of Black Muslim women are often missing in literature and discussions surrounding faith and identity. I want Muslim women to read these poems and be proud of being Muslim but also know that within that pride, they can also express frustrations, challenges and questions. That this is a part of the religious experience and the experience of being a woman; and there’s nothing wrong with showing strength, doubt and vulnerability. Our stories are so layered and rich. I believe we represent the beauty of intersectionality. I want Black Muslim women to read this book and see themselves and their culture represented and honored in light of all the things that make us unique: 

“our head wrapped up, feathered and jeweled, 

our “two-stepping in 4-inch heels, 

our Christian cousins and, of course, those wonderful bean pies!”

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Aisha Sharif is a Cave Canem fellow who earned her MFA at Indiana University, Bloomington and BA in English at Rhodes College. Her poetry has appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Tidal Basin Review, Callaloo, Calyx, Rattle, and other literary journals. Her poems have been nominated for Pushcart Prizes in 2019 and 2015. Her book, To Keep From Undressing, was published by SparkWheel Press in January 2019. She lives in Kansas with her husband and two daughters and teaches English at Metropolitan Community College in Lee’s Summit, Missouri.