'Just Me and Allah': Pakistaanse fotografe wil taboe rond holebi's en islam doorbreken

18/01/16 om 15:52 - Bijgewerkt om 15:52

De Pakistaanse Samra Habib had het vroeger moeilijk om haar geloof te matchen met haar geaardheid. 'Ik twijfelde er niet aan dat er nog heel andere moslims met dezelfde vragen worstelden.' Met het fotoproject 'Just Me and Allah' probeert ze tegengewicht te geven aan de heersende vooroordelen.

Samra Habib startte haar project in Toronto, waar ze nu ook woont. Ondertussen reisde ze al de wereld rond om holebi moslims voor haar camera te krijgen en naar hun verhaal te luisteren, wat ze dan ook uitgebreid op haar blog post. 'Ik wil moslimkinderen over de hele wereld het gevoel geven dat ze als holebi echt niet alleen staan', vertelt ze in een interview met Dazed. 'Het is een kant van de islam die amper belicht wordt.'

Met haar fotoproject 'Just Me and Allah: A Queer Muslim Photo Project' wil ze de clichés en de vooroordelen langs beide kanten omvergooien. 'Ik wil ook heel graag dat niet-moslims begrijpen dat de islam geen monolithische godsdienst is. Er zijn echt aspecten van dit geloof die me rust geven en me aanzetten om meer empathie te tonen.

Voor haar project fotografeerde Habib holebi moslims van over de hele wereld, van Berlijn over New York tot Istanbul. Hieronder kan je alvast enkele opmerkelijke quotes lezen.

'Since a young age I knew that I was queer and to be honest it never caused me any problems, maybe because I didn't mention it and it was not even necessary. I started asking myself questions growing up in my Muslim community. When you hear things from people that you share the same faith with who reject a part of you, it hurts.'

'Since a young age I knew that I was queer and to be honest it never caused me any problems, maybe because I didn't mention it and it was not even necessary. I started asking myself questions growing up in my Muslim community. When you hear things from people that you share the same faith with who reject a part of you, it hurts.' © Samra Habib

'As a kid I day dreamt of being suited up and kissing my wife goodbye like the white couples on TV did. As a preteen, I cut my long hair short to look masculine because I thought of masculinity as being synonymous with having power and liking girls.'

'As a kid I day dreamt of being suited up and kissing my wife goodbye like the white couples on TV did. As a preteen, I cut my long hair short to look masculine because I thought of masculinity as being synonymous with having power and liking girls.' © Samra Habib

'I came out to my parents when I was 13. I wrote a note to my mom in Arabic and left it on her bathroom mirror when she wasn't home, and went to a friend's house to spend the night before she saw it. I'm eternally grateful for the love, acceptance, and support my family has always shown me.'

'I came out to my parents when I was 13. I wrote a note to my mom in Arabic and left it on her bathroom mirror when she wasn't home, and went to a friend's house to spend the night before she saw it. I'm eternally grateful for the love, acceptance, and support my family has always shown me.' © Samra Habib

'People ask me what attracted me to Islam. When they come to the Unity mosque I co-founded with my partner El-Farouk and Laury Silvers (a gender-equal, queer affirming prayer space open to everyone), I tell them that this is the Islam that I converted to. Instead of narrowing my view of the world, it's actually opened it up.'

'People ask me what attracted me to Islam. When they come to the Unity mosque I co-founded with my partner El-Farouk and Laury Silvers (a gender-equal, queer affirming prayer space open to everyone), I tell them that this is the Islam that I converted to. Instead of narrowing my view of the world, it's actually opened it up.' © Samra Habib

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