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The Mufti’s office in the province of Rize in Turkey is asking imams to talk about Valentine’s Day during the Friday sermon this week, as it coincides with the annual celebration of love. Imams will convey to the congregation this message: “In our religious ideology, there is no Valentine’s Day, because you cannot assign a day for love.”
It’s the polite side of a growing anti-Valentine’s movement across Muslim communities who are arguing that any actions conducted on this day with regards to expressing love and romance are against Islam. Some even use the stronger word “bid’ah”, which means to bring innovation into Islam. Yet celebrations of graduations, life achievements and national days are commonplace and are not pronounced forbidden.
I say: make love, not bid’ah wars.
If you celebrate or don’t celebrate, it’s up to you. But whatever you decide, there’s no denying the event offers us an opportunity to think about the role of love in our lives, and the people we love. I’ll be making a point to express those feelings about which we rarely speak openly to my parents, as well as to all the female friends in my life, and of course to my husband.
To argue that love shouldn’t be reserved for one day, and that it should be celebrated all year round is to miss the point. Of course it should be expressed all year round, and if we were perfect creatures we would constantly be spoiling our other halves and appreciating their virtues. But life’s not like that. Sometimes we just need to pause and make a point of highlighting things that are easily forgotten in the daily grind.
Yet I’m also very much on the side of those who argue that Valentine’s has commercialised love, reducing it to red cards and cuddly hearts.
If you’re spending hundreds of dollars on presents, booking restaurants months in advance, sitting uncomfortably with the dozens of couples also pretending to have a good time eating their heart-shaped three-course meal, and when you secretly think your partner’s gift is less impressive than yours, then yes, you’ve gone too far. Expressions of your love aren’t being judged by the Arabs Got Talent panel, and this is not about totting up the score for who spent the most.
If you want to oppose Valentine’s then argue against it on the front that it puts pressure on people to turn love into something to buy and parade. But to criticise the fact of its public and focused expression, and that expressing love is somehow un-Islamic because it coincides with lots of other human beings expressing love, condemns the aspirations of young Muslims for relationships, and turns love into something forbidden. Worse, it suggests that love and the enjoyment of love is not for Muslims, only for others.
Traditional processes around finding a partner, having a relationship and being married are unravelling. Young people are grappling with their emotions and desires where the controlling factors of keeping face for family are slowly eroding. The strident anti-love messaging intentionally or inadvertently shuts down discussions of their hopes, fears and aspirations. When an opportunity like Valentine’s comes along to talk openly about love, it is better to allow space for young people to air their genuine emotions.
A new mantra that is gaining currency is: “Sorry Valentine, I’m a Muslim.” I’d prefer to say: “Hello Valentine, I’m a Muslim, let me teach you about love.” Muslims who understand the deepest meanings of love really can make the best lovers.
Shelina Zahra Janmohamed is the author of Love in a Headscarf and blogs at www.spirit21.co.uk
