Navigating Eid as a Queer Muslim
Eid al-Fitr (or Hari Raya Aidilfitri for my Malaysian friends) marks the end of the month of Ramadan, and is celebrated by gathering, feasting, post-feast napping and donning your best Eid-Met Gala outfit with family, friends, and the wider community. It’s often encompassed with joy, happiness and a sense of heartwarming belonging.
But as Eid comes around, there is often one group of people that are overlooked, queer Muslims. Any queer Muslim can tell you that it’s a tricky ordeal trying to navigate these two identities. There are usually feelings of guilt, shame, loneliness, and a longing to be accepted, which are often amplified when big celebrations come around because you might not feel like you can truly be you.
Most people are often surprised or taken aback when they meet someone who’s queer and Muslim, as if they’re some kind of myth, as if the two identities can’t coincide. This myth is often led by the understanding that Islam forbids same sex relationships and gender identities outside of the binary, along with the belief of, “why would a Muslim choose to be something that goes against everything they’ve taught?, or “you’re not a real Muslim”. But what most people don’t realise is that queer Muslims do exist (and always have), and they are real Muslims! And we should all know by now that sexuality and gender identity isn’t a choice. It’s this ignorant thinking that can make one feel isolated and invalidated, especially queer Muslims who have found a sense of beauty and belonging within the religion. If our relationship with religion and Allah is truly personal, how can we decide who is or isn’t a real Muslim? When we question the existence of queer Muslims, you’re essentially saying, “hey, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here”, when in fact queer Muslims are valid in who they are, and deserve to celebrate and find joy in Eid, just as much as non-queer Muslims do.
Some queer Muslims have grown up being told that by nature of their identity, they are a sin, which can be deeply hurtful. They are also often met with intrusive questions by family members and backhanded comments that are supposedly fueled by good intentions. Others might find themselves still having to present as their non-queer selves for a number of reasons such as fear and safety, thus having to manage the internal battle of being true to yourself or facing negative reactions from your community. Either way, it’s hard and uncomfortable, which is why some people prefer to lay low to keep the peace (and hey, that’s valid too).
So to my queer Muslims out there, I wonder if it’s time to reclaim Eid and what it means to you.
If you can, find your own community to celebrate Eid with. When I was living and studying in New Zealand, I was away from home and everything I was familiar with. When Eid came around, I almost chose not to celebrate that year. It became increasingly hard to celebrate when things felt so different, but I was lucky enough to have a group of friends that I could celebrate with. So in true Malaysian fashion, we made rendang, ketupat, nasi lemak and sirap. Although it didn’t feel the same, I still felt connected to that part of me I had to set aside for a while.
I would like to emphasize how important community can be. You don’t need to replicate how you grew up celebrating Eid to celebrate it now. I know this can be hard to get comfortable with because tradition is highly embedded into Eid, but who’s to say you can’t create your own traditions and rituals? As we know, queer joy can be immensely powerful, healing and in itself, an act of resistance. So why not bring some of that joy into your new Eid rituals?
The good thing is, in this day and age, more queer Muslims are choosing to be vocal with their identity and have created queer Muslim support groups and organisations such as Queer Muslim Network, Sydney Queer Muslims and QUASA. If you’re in a major city, I would invite you to find one near you, and if there aren’t any, join some of the online groups!
But that’s not to say that it isn’t hard, wherever you sit within your identity.
If you’re a queer Muslim celebrating Eid, know that you definitely aren’t alone if you’re feeling isolated or forgotten. There’s a high chance other queer Muslims around the world are echoing what you’re feeling, and I hope you find your people soon.
If you can’t celebrate Eid with your birth family, I invite you to celebrate with your chosen family, your friends and the people you feel safest with. Reclaim this day in ways that bring you true joy and comfort.
It’s okay to think that celebrating Eid is hard, and it’s okay to wish that things were different. It’s also okay to choose to celebrate it differently and on your own terms. You deserve to celebrate your intersecting identities and find belonging through Eid. Who knows, you might have just created your very own tradition.
And if you’re someone who knows a queer Muslim, reach out and check on them. This time of year can be lonely and uncomfortable. Every little bit of support can go a long way.
To all my queer Muslims out there, Eid Mubarak.
I have a passion for supporting queer Muslims through therapy and wellbeing support through in-person or online appointments. If you’re seeking support in navigating these identities, or seek cultural and queer-affirming therapy, please reach out here or here. I’d love to hear from you!
Additional articles just to show that you’re truly not alone:
