Visit #2 Idriss Mosque at Northgate

Along with two of my lovely female classmates I visited Idriss Mosque in North Seattle this afternoon. If Stendhal's first rule for interreligious dialogue was the theme for my visit to Mars Hill Church, his second was the theme for me this afternoon - if you have questions about the theology or beliefs of another religion, ask those who follow it. (I am saving Holy Envy for the Synagogue, just a hunch I have about what my experience there will be.) The women at Idriss were models of hospitality and a few of them stuck around after prayer to answer any questions we had, as well as clear up any misunderstandings they thought we might be carrying about Islam and women. It was friendly, informative, and lovely.  So let's get to it:

Church Attended: Idriss Mosque
Date: May 18, 2012
Description of worship space/meeting time: Because of my gender I didn't spend any time on the main floor of the mosque. Mia and I wandered around to the front entrance and were intercepted by a nice man who showed us to the women's entrance. It was around the back of the brick building and down a ramp, so we entered on a basement level. Once inside there were a couple of classrooms ahead and a washroom for ablutions ahead of us, and stairs to the left that lead to the women's prayer space. Signs informed us that there are no shoes allowed in the mosque, and there were several walls of cubbies to store footwear in, one at the entrance and two more as we ascended the stairs into the prayer space. The women's prayer space is above the main floor where the men pray, and so is separated both by altitude and by a series of turret shaped lattices. The room itself is carpeted, with lines in the carpet so that we could arrange ourselves in appropriately spaced rows for prayer. The women in the front row could look down and see the Imam and men praying, but I never saw that space as I was seated too far back. There were a few chairs for women who could not comfortably sit but everyone else arranged themselves on the floor.
Number of people in attendance: I don't know how many men were attending below, but there were probably around forty women present and four or five children.
My expectations/pre-concieved notions: I wasn't sure what to expect, although I was aware that women and men pray separately in most of Islam. I expected to be in the minority racially (and we were) and that the women would all wear head coverings (and they were).  I wasn't sure how our obvious status as visitors would be received. I have read and been told that it is acceptable for anyone who has performed ablutions to attempt the prayers, and that it is not offensive to Muslims for non-Muslim women to wear the head scarves but I am sensitive to engaging in behaviors that may be appropriative and felt some concern that we would be seen as interlopers. This was in no way the case.
The service: When we entered there was a woman who was fully covered, including her face and hands, in the entryway. She wasn't a formal greeter but could see that we were a little lost and when I asked her how we should do ablutions she showed us the washroom. When I told her that we wanted to pray, if we could, she was very encouraging and walked us through the entire rite of wudu so that we would be in a state of ritual purification. I had done ghusl that morning, and told her this, but since I had gone to the bathroom since that time it was necessary to do the more abbreviated wudu. She was great and corrected whenever one of us started with the left hand instead of right or made another mistake. She then showed us what to say (it was posted on the wall) and took us up to the women's part of the formal mosque. When we arrived the room was about half full, and by the time the imam was done with his preaching the room was quite full. The dress of those present ranged from the woman who greeted us, whose face or eyes we never saw, to women wearing pants and tunics with hajib headscarves, to us. I had looked up how to wrap my scarf on the internet and apparently did well enough that some of the women assumed I was Muslim, but my companions were definitely the least covered women in the room, although both did cover their heads. Precisely at 1:30 there was a call to prayer, sung in Arabic, followed by chanting and then some words from the imam. I couldn't see him, but he was easy to understand. The homily was focused on the importance of the family in the Qur'an, and especially on how wives and husbands need to treat each other. The speaker focused on kindness and displays of affection between spouses, and made some gentle gender normative jokes that were received with chuckles from above and below. When he was done speaking the entire assembly performed three raka'ah, or sets of ritual prayer that involve standing, reciting parts of the Qur'an, bowing, and prostrating oneself on the ground.  When it was over the general sound of conversation filled both levels and for a while no one went anywhere. A lovely older woman came over to talk to us, and for a moment I thought that perhaps this was the "meet and greet" part of the service, but she told me that it was done. The whole thing was over by 2:10. ("well I like that!" my husband said as I told him about the experience.) We stayed for a good while afterwards chatting with the women there about Islam and the homily, enjoying their hospitality.
What I least enjoyed: The very sweet woman who greeted me afterwards and stuck around to chat was quick to jump to the defense of the separation between women and men, and to explain to me how Islam cherishes the unique beauty of women through this separation and the covering of the female body and so forth. I heard what she said and I can see where she is coming from. But as I think back on the day I cannot help but notice that as a woman I entered through the basement and worshiped in the attic, so to speak. The mosque has a beautiful front entrance, but I can't go through those doors. I may understand the reasoning and theology behind it, but I don't like it(the fact of it or the reasoning and theology) very much.
What I most enjoyed: I loved being instructed in doing wudu- today is my plunge project day so I had been attempting it at home earlier in the day, as well as attempting the prayers. It was wonderful to be coached through by someone who had internalized the cleansing and prayer process so thoroughly. By far my favorite part, however, was the easy camaraderie between the women that was extended to us as visitors. Their hospitality was genuine, simple, and sweet. This was also the most racially diverse congregation I've seen anywhere - and I loved that too.
What I learned: I experienced the hijab as a sort of vestment for every person to wear - I liked it, which was not something I was expecting. I also learned that these Muslim women, the ones we talked to, are incredibly proud of their role in their families and their faith as women. They perceive themselves as the drivers and producers of the human race, which is why they try to stay home with their children and why they guard their bodies from the view of others. I also learned that a few of my preconceptions were, at least in this place, founded. In the midst of a beautiful description of the headscarf/hijab as a way of emphasizing the unique beauty and power of being a woman the lady I was speaking to tacked on a comment about how nobody wearing a hijab gets raped because the men can't see their bodies. I winced on the inside to hear this victim blaming in the same breath as some pretty amazing girl-power speech.
What would I do differently if I attended again? There are two concrete things I would do differently. First I would do wudu at home - I got the distinct impression that most of the women did not perform ablutions actually at the mosque. I wonder if this is different for the men, who are perhaps coming from work and who do not have to worry about mussing up headscarves and other coverings. Secondly I would get there in time to get a place in the front row - I want to see how what the men are up to compares to what's happening upstairs.