Elora Shehabuddin and LT I and GT Sister
Elora Shehabuddin and LT I and GT Sister
Elora Shehabuddin and LT I and GT Sister
shows how Muslim women were used by the West to shape their own social
standards; on the other, she records how generations of these same women were
also engaged in their own battles to claim rights. A most significant aspect of this
book is that it allows the Western audience to see themselves through the lens of
the East.
As I held the book in my hands, my eyes were riveted on the words
“sisters” and “mirror.” Having grown up with a postcolonial identity, it is
impossible for me to ignore the many connotations of the “mirror.” And my
academic training warns me of the complexities of sisterhood with all its
conflicting ideas. A South Asian woman myself, reading Shehabuddin’s
groundbreaking book is like reassessing and reimagining my identity and space.
While a number of other books on Muslim women have come out in the recent
past, Sisters in the Mirror brings about a holistic view of the situation of Muslim
women in South Asia with an emphasis on Bengali Muslim women. As the author
points out, Sisters in the Mirror is a feminist story about the “changing global and
local power disparities—between Europeans and Bengalis; between Brahmos,
Hindus, and Muslims within Bengal; between feminists of the Global North and
South; and between Western and Muslim Feminists” (9). The historical insights
and transnational dialogues brought in through memoirs, travel narratives, letters,
and newspaper articles make this text a fascinating read, but for the same reason,
it is not a book one can devour in one sitting. It constitutes a rich source of ideas
about issues relating to Muslim women as well as how they are crafted in Western
materials. The information it provides is both useful and comprehensive, and
there is much to ponder and reflect upon in this well-written account. I for one
went back and forth to read and re-read different sections and felt illuminated to
have figured out the connections between different parts of the work.
The chapter that caught my attention the most is titled “Soulless Seraglios
in the Grievances of Englishwomen.” “Serraglio” is an Italian term meaning
“place of confinement” (35), but somehow it became confused with “serai,” a
Turkish word for palace and, for many centuries now, “seraglio” has come to
refer to Muslim women confined in the inner quarters. Shehabuddin shows how
early English feminists like Mary Wollstonecraft (1759–97) used images of
depraved Muslim men and their harems to prove their points regarding the
oppression of Western women and urged men not to become like the cruel
Turks. Holding a mirror before that part of Western feminist history,
Shehabuddin identifies a number of problems. First, Britain, even while using
Western women as a yardstick of supremacy, was nonetheless reluctant to allow
them any political, social, and legal rights. Second, many Anglo-American
feminist leaders were unable to see the feminine space beyond the veils of the
harem. Third, European men and women alike considered Muslim women to be
soulless and bound in servitude, and the harem as a place of sexual pleasure for
Muslim men.
And yet, fourth, some Western women, like Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
(1689–1762). who were able to actually visit elite female quarters, strongly
contradicted the prevalent Western notions of the harem and even longed for
such a safe space for women in their own society. It is interesting to note that a
contemporary visitor, Mirza Abu Taleb Khan (1752–1806) of Lucknow and
Calcutta, found his way to England and made comparative observations on
Muslim women and those of the West. He noted that freedom for Western
women meant freedom of movement, while their Muslim counterparts in India
enjoyed power over property and children.
The chapter “Gospel, Adventure, and Introspection in an Expanding
Empire” expands on the previous chapter and provides an elaborate account of
English women who journeyed to the East with their husbands. Many of them
ventured to enter the harem which Western men could only imagine and fantasise
about. Their accounts are noteworthy in many ways. While they thought of
helping their Eastern sisters, in most cases, typical condescension crept in from
time to time. Annette Akroyd Beveridge (1842–1929), for example, evoked the
idea of a shared sisterhood, but she also pointed out the differences between
“civilized” and “enslaved” women (112). There are accounts that made more
relatable comparisons when writing about the predicaments of English and
Indian women. Fanny Parkes’ reference to English women as the “white slaves
of England” (92) is interesting, as the term is used by an English woman to
describe the problems faced by women of her own country. Another notable
point comes from the observations of Turkish and Indian Muslim women on the
stiff nature of corsets worn by English ladies. The obvious underlying question
here is: How can Western women be considered free if they cannot even dress
themselves without help? And the other question that comes to mind is how
women capable of posing such questions can be considered soulless.
In a particularly gripping chapter entitled “Writing Feminism, Writing
Freedom,” Shehabuddin covers stories of Bengali women writers such as Bibi
Taherannesa1 to Faizunnesa Chaudhurai (1834–1903), Begum Rokeya Sakhawat
Hossain (1880–1932), and her much older sister Karimunnesa Khanam (1825–
1926), Masuda Khatun (1885–1926), Razia Khatun Chaudhurani (1907–34), and
later Shamsunnahar Mahmud (1908–1964) and Sufia Kamal (1911–1999). It
would not be at all incorrect to say that these pages summarise the history of
enlightenment for Muslim women through education. The process was extremely
difficult to say the least, because conservative Muslims stood against modern
education introduced by the British. Shehabuddin goes into extensive detail
bringing out the battles Rokeya and others of her generation fought to provide
the basic education for the Muslim women of Bengal. While writing about the
history of women’s education, Shehabuddin also weaves in the political histories
1
A variant spelling of Taherunnesa.
in the background—the 1905 partition and how it was revoked in 1911 and its
effects on the women of Bengal.
An important aspect of Sisters in the Mirror is that it takes note of the role
of newspapers that brought out writings by women. Bamabodhini Patrika launched
in August 1863 published an article by Taherunnesa in 1865 where the writer
claimed education as “that priceless jewel” (129). Rokeya’s Sultana’s Dream was
first published in Indian Ladies Magazine in 1905. Periodicals such as Mussulman,
Bulbul, Nabanoor, and Saogat are cited as some of the outlets where early Muslim
women writers saw their works in print.
While discussing women issues in post-independence Bangladesh,
Taslima Nasreen2 (1962–) is one name that is difficult to avoid. Her stance and
reception by the Western media naturally induced Shehabuddin to examine her
position in the context of Bangladesh. Early in her career, Nasreen had drawn
attention by speaking out about sexual harassment. Many young women
identified with her experiences and she became a household name. But her later
stance against Islam attracted unwarranted attention and death threats. In
Chapter 8 of her book, Shehabuddin discusses Meredith Tax (1942–2022), the
US journalist who helped Nasreen publish her op-ed titled “Sentenced to Death”
in The New York Times. Tax later recalled that many reporters wanted to use
Nasreen’s story as “a stick to beat Islam” (253). It is unfortunate that things
turned that way, and ultimately Nasreen’s approach did not help women’s causes
in Bangladesh.
The last point on which I want to focus is an ongoing and difficult topic
for Bangladesh, the rape victims of the 1971 liberation war, the Birangonas (war
heroines). An April 3, 2023 article by Thaslima Begum in The Guardian addresses
women’s recent testimony to the atrocious incidents from over fifty years ago.
While the fact of mass rape has long been known, not many women had shared
their gruesome experiences. Only a handful of books like Ami Birangona Bolchhi
(A war heroine, I speak, 1994), Rising from the Ashes (2001), and The Spectral Wound
(2015) have documented the suffering of Bangladesh’s 1971 rape victims. As
Shehabuddin aptly points out, it is only in the recent past, along with the horrific
tales of Bosnia and other war-ravaged countries, that the stories of Bangladeshi
women in 1971 are being examined in a new light. Previously, instead of actually
helping the victims integrate in society, the newly independent country had only
alienated them by naming them birangonas, or war heroines. It is Bangladeshi
feminist groups that have pointed this out, demanding that the rapes be
recognised as “war crimes” rather than “loss of honour.”
The book jacket of Sisters in the Mirror tells how the “Muslim world is
often portrayed as the last and the most difficult frontier of global feminism” and
how Elora Shehabuddin engages in presenting a “unique and engaging history of
2
Also spelled Nasrin.
Sohana Manzoor
Department of English & Humanities
University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh
Email: [email protected]