How can I socialise without drinking?

In the UK, alcohol plays a central role in lubricating social interactions. But that, says Shelina Janmohamed, can be alienating

There are other places to socialise than bars, notes Shelina Janmohamed. Coffee shops, for example. (Photo by Oli Scarff/Getty Images)

Many people in the UK are shocked to hear that I don’t drink, I never have and do not plan to do so in the future. They would ask questions like these: not even a sip? Never in your whole life? Are you not tempted? These questions sum up a simple truth about consuming alcohol: it is so ingrained in the British culture that the very idea that someone is outside the alcohol club is incredible.

Last month, a UK think tank released a report noting that British Muslims are disproportionately represented in managerial and other professional occupations compared to other religious groups and that improving the participation of young Muslims in the labour market would be critical to promoting socio-economic integration and equality of opportunity in Britain.

The report said that one of the factors that could be contributing to this phenomenon is that many Muslims don’t drink alcohol. It is felt that alcohol plays a significant role in socialising, networking and career building. So it’s understandable why Muslims are in a disadvantageous position in terms of promotion in certain occupations.

It’s not just the workplace where alcohol facilitates acceptance. When socialising is done over a glass of wine, those who don’t drink may miss out on nurturing friendships.

There are alternatives, though. Consider the coffee culture. It is an alternative to the once ubiquitous invitation to “go for a drink”.

Successive governments have insisted that Muslims need to integrate more into the society. The conversation is focused on extremism and ghettoisation. But rarely do we discuss the challenges of socialising without alcohol.

It’s hard to talk about being a teetotaller, especially when you’re a Muslim, because it might fuel accusations of being self-righteous, of sounding preachy or worse, of trying to impose sharia law.

Despite these difficulties, we do need to communicate the challenges that come with not drinking. And we also need to give non-drinkers the space to point out how pervasive drinking is and the harm that it causes, something that is hard to see when it is normalised in daily life.

Whether through surprise at someone’s abstinence or anger at not conforming to that norm, the pronouncement is that Muslims and non-drinkers are no fun. This seems to be particularly the case for Muslim converts who leave behind friends and family that continue to drink. Those who have embraced Islam have spoken about how friends with whom they used to visit clubs are angry at them and see them as boring as they slowly drift apart.

They say that being sober during nights out made them unable to appreciate jokes and the lewd comments by the other gender. They now have to learn afresh how to socialise without alcohol and make new social networks.

There are no easy answers to solving this paradox. But perhaps an increasing push towards healthier and more responsible beverages, the rise of coffee and other alternative locations for socialising as well as greater awareness of the challenges of the alcohol culture might solve this issue. Who knows, without alcohol socialising could be even more fun.

Shelina Zahra Janmohamed is the author of Love in a Headscarf and blogs at www.spirit21.co.uk