Middle-Class British-Pakistani Women in Manchester A

Home , British Asian, British Pakistanis, Pakistanis in Denmark, Pakistani clothing

MIDDLE-CLASS BRITISH-PAKISTANI WOMEN IN MANCHESTER

A thesis submitted to the University of Manchester for the degree

Doctor of Philosophy

in the Faculty of Humanities.

2017

NOREEN MIRZA

SCHOOL OF SOCIAL SCIENCE

Table of Contents

Contents Table of Contents ...... 2 Abstract ...... 4 Declaration ...... 5 Copyright Statement ...... 5 Dedication ...... 6 Acknowledgements ...... 6 Chapter 1. Introduction ...... 7 General introduction ...... 7 Why British-Pakistanis? ...... 9 Prejudice ...... 16 Intersecting identities ...... 19 Conceptual considerations ...... 26 Middle-class Identity ...... 30 Working as a native Anthropologist ...... 32 The seeming invisibility of men ...... 34 Fieldwork and participants ...... 36 Structure of thesis ...... 40 Chapter 2 - Being a British-Pakistani Muslim ...... 42 Chapter 3 – Ladies’ Night ...... 43 Chapter 4 – Fashionable piety ...... 44 Chapter 5 – A dutiful daughter-in-law ...... 44 Chapter 6 – A caring daughter ...... 44 Chapter 2. The experiences of being a British-Pakistani Muslim ...... 46 Introduction ...... 46 Islamophobia and the role of the media ...... 50 Everyday living with Islamophobia ...... 56 Breaking down barriers ...... 64 The role of the mosque and being British Muslim ...... 69 Conclusion ...... 74 Chapter 3. The Ladies’ Night ...... 76 Introduction ...... 76 The importance of British-Pakistani identity ...... 78 Ladies' Night ...... 82

Pakistani culture as a source of class distinction and cultural capital ...... 90 Dinner at the Ladies Night event ...... 100 The impact of wealthy Pakistani nationals ...... 102 Entertainment ...... 105 The drive home ...... 107 Chapter 4. Fashionable piety ...... 109 Introduction ...... 109 Visual piety ...... 110 Fashionably pious...... 115 Religious classes at the mosque ...... 119 The importance of Islam to women ...... 125 The phenomenon of Farhat Hashmi ...... 132 Conclusion ...... 143 Chapter 5. A dutiful daughter-in-law ...... 146 Introduction ...... 146 Family hierarchies ...... 147 Dutiful daughters-in-law ...... 149 Altruism and antagonism ...... 155 The merits of in-laws ...... 160 Changes in expectations ...... 164 The changing attitudes of third-generation British-Pakistanis ...... 169 Conclusion ...... 174 Chapter 6. A loving daughter ...... 176 Introduction ...... 176 Ambition ...... 179 Amber’s mother Jamila ...... 182 Gazala’s mother Naheed ...... 189 Hina’s mother Misbah ...... 195 Farah’s mother Khalida ...... 199 Conclusion ...... 205 Chapter 7. Conclusion ...... 206 Reference List ...... 215

Final word count: 78,142 words

Abstract

The University of Manchester Noreen Mirza PhD Social Anthropology Middle-class British-Pakistani Women in Manchester May 2017

My ethnographic research concerned middle class British Pakistani women in Manchester. Although a great number of studies has be done on working–class Pakistanis in Britain, I have come across very few studies on socially mobile British- Pakistanis. Literature on working-class Pakistanis in Britain have dealt with issues of marginalisation, prejudice and discrimination. The aim of my research is to bring to light the experiences of prejudice and discrimination from the perspective of middle- class British-Pakistanis. Not only does my research look into ways in which middle-class British-Pakistanis exploit their social class position to deal with prejudice and discrimination, it also highlights their contributions in creating a positive image of British-Pakistanis and Muslims. In addition to the experiences of discrimination, the focus of my study is on ways of belonging, in particular the salience of class in shaping identity and belonging. I look at the relationships and identities that create a positive self-image among the middle-class British-Pakistanis in my study. Belonging among my participants was enacted through the performance of different identities that earned them power and status among friends and family. It was through a position of empowerment that they felt recognition and acceptance among a group they wanted to affiliate with. I explore how aspirations and interests are governed by social class position, and how socio-economic mobility defines the meaning and experience of being a British-Pakistani. Thus, the experiences and interests of middle-class women in my study is different from that of the studies done on working-class British-Pakistanis.

Declaration

No portion of the work referred to in the thesis has been submitted in support of an application for another degree or qualification of this or any other university or other institute of learning.

Copyright Statement i. The author of this thesis (including any appendices and/or schedules to this thesis) owns certain copyright or related rights in it (the “Copyright”) and s/he has given The University of Manchester certain rights to use such Copyright, including for administrative purposes. ii. Copies of this thesis, either in full or in extracts and whether in hard or electronic copy, may be made only in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (as amended) and regulations issued under it or, where appropriate, in accordance with licensing agreements which the University has from time to time. This page must form part of any such copies made. iii. The ownership of certain Copyright, patents, designs, trademarks and other intellectual property (the “Intellectual Property”) and any reproductions of copyright works in the thesis, for example graphs and tables (“Reproductions”), which may be described in this thesis, may not be owned by the author and may be owned by third parties. Such Intellectual Property and Reproductions cannot and must not be made available for use without the prior written permission of the owner(s) of the relevant Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions. iv. Further information on the conditions under which disclosure, publication and commercialisation of this thesis, the Copyright and any Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions described in it may take place is available in the University IP Policy (see http://documents.manchester.ac.uk/DocuInfo.aspx?DocID=2442 0), in any relevant Thesis restriction declarations deposited in the University Library, The University Library’s regulations (see http://www.library.manchester.ac.uk/about/regulations/) and in The University’s policy on Presentation of Theses.

Dedication

To my parents, who have been incredible inspirations and role models.

Acknowledgements

A special thanks to my supervisors, Angela Torresan and Peter Wade, for their help and encouragement over the years. A heartfelt thanks and gratitude to my husband, Imtiaz, and my sister, Abeda, for your endless support, love and patience. I am deeply indebted to the women whom I worked with in the field for sharing their experiences and giving me an insight into their lives. I am grateful for their time, friendship, kindness and hospitality. Thank you to Sinead O’Sullivan and my nephew, Omayr, for your feedback while I was in the process of writing my thesis. Finally, I thank my children, Sophia and Sarim, for their encouragement and insight into the lives of third- generation British-Pakistani youths in Manchester. I am so proud of you both!

Chapter 1. Introduction

General introduction

Being a second-generation British-Pakistani and Muslim woman growing up in Manchester in a predominantly white neighbourhood, I remember the deep desire to be the same as the other children I played with in my neighbourhood and at school. I was aware of the difference in my skin colour, heritage and religious background, as all the children I played with were white British Christians. The yearning to be the same stayed with me into my teenage years. Having similar interests, participating in games with the children and being part of the neighbourhood enabled me to create a feeling of belonging in spite of our differences. My faith and cultural heritage were one of many facets to my identity but, more importantly, it was shared experiences and interests that brought me closer to white British people. Meeting people from diverse cultural, ethnic and religious backgrounds later, as an undergraduate at university, I came to realise that the differences I had so clearly marked were not so firm. What united me and other students was far greater than what separated us, such as our interests, aspirations and shared experiences of university life. By then I could sense that Muslim, Pakistani and British were not monolithic identities, rather there were different ways of being either or both, which people negotiated throughout their daily lives.

Reflecting on my own upbringing and experiences of being a second-generation middle-class British-Pakistani Muslim prompted me to want to understand what was happening among other socially mobile British-Pakistanis women in Manchester. More importantly, and like many other people, I was puzzled by the changes regarding the more public and evident expression of religious affiliation among British-Pakistani women, a practice that I will address here with the term ‘visual piety’. Being a Muslim, it was surprising to me that in the aftermath of 9/11 in New York, and the 7/7 bombings in London, many middle-class British Muslims were choosing to publicly assert their religious identity while also trying to deal with an increasing wave of Islamophobia through being seen to be good British citizens. A motivating factor to

7 base my research on middle-class British Pakistanis was my wish to understand what seemed to be a tension between the practice and desire of being a good Muslim and a good British citizen simultaneously, in the current widespread context of Islamophobia.

Through my doctoral research, I came to realise that although the need for belonging and acceptance is fundamental, the ways in which people are willing and able to belong are far more complex than I had envisaged while growing up. Acceptance (by oneself and others) and belonging (as a sense of attachment to a culture and a group of people) are both governed by the intersection of social positions and feelings that range from our status in terms of class, heritage and gender; our values and personal experiences, which we share with others; and the personal and emotional bonds we forge with people and places. The women in my study were juggling identities, social positions and migration status that seemed contradictory at first, but which made perfect sense to them.

Therefore, I was interested to hear the stories of my interlocutors, what they had to share with me regarding their experiences as middle-class British-Pakistani Muslim second-generation migrants in a contemporary context of Islamophobia. How did they negotiate their sense of belonging as British-Pakistani women in England? Socio- economic advantage and familiarity with British way of life has meant that the women in my study were armed with the tools to challenge prejudice against Muslims and British-Pakistanis. They were far from being passive victims of racial, religious or cultural discrimination. Challenges such as the experience of prejudice have not stopped my participants from accomplishing success in their careers or reaching a strong standing within their circle of family and friends. This thesis is an ethnographic study of the identities of middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester, and the sense of belonging they create through recognition and social status. Class, ethnicity, nationality, generation, age, religion and gender influence the social status and recognition the women in my study are trying to garner. They perform different and intersecting identities that have the potential for maximising their status and capital in any particular given social situation. I draw on theories of capital, the social field (Bourdieu 1984), and performance (Goffman 1956) to explore the many ways in which

8 women juggle with the various expectations others have of their lives and their own ability to gain power and autonomy in a highly competitive migratory social field.

The ethnographic material that forms the basis of this thesis enabled me to grasp the complex status that middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester occupy. My interlocutors inhabited a unique social place, not quite identifying with white British people and neither fully identifying with, nor claiming to belong to Pakistan, in the same way as their parent’s generation. Consequently, they carved out a sense of belonging and identity that was neither white British nor Pakistani, instead creating their own understanding and expectations of what it meant to be a socially mobile British-Pakistani Muslim woman in Manchester. Being middle class and second generation meant that they were not presented with the challenges that working-class first-generation immigrants faced, who came from the 1950s onwards. Their parents had to learn to be fluent in another language and to adapt to a new culture, which in many ways was very different from the culture and values they grew up with in Pakistan. Some of the parents had not been educated beyond secondary level, and initially struggled to improve their material position in Britain. On the other hand, the women in my study had to deal with Islamophobia as a growing global political phenomenon, and consequently prejudice against Muslims and British-Pakistanis has been increased dramatically in their generation.

Why British-Pakistanis?

My own understanding of being a British-Pakistani, which informs my interest in the subject matter of this thesis, stemmed from my early experiences and the influence of my parents. My parents have always showed an interest in different faiths and cultures, and they had told me that growing up and living side by side with people of different faiths had enabled them to be open minded, yet devout. Instead of focusing on differences, they sought out similarities across diverse faiths and cultures. To me, these were very important attributes, which I value and would like to pass down to my own children. My parents were amongst the many South Asians who had to cope with significant changes. Firstly, they witnessed the independence of India and the creation

9 of Pakistan, where multitudes of people had to abandon their homes and communities to make the perilous journey to a new homeland. Secondly, they migrated to Britain, where they faced discrimination while adapting to a life that was deeply unfamiliar to them. These challenging experiences were a test of their resilience and fighting spirit. My mother and father grew up in what was known then as British India, before Partition in 1947. In his early twenties, my father moved to the U.S for a few years, then for a short time returned to Pakistan before getting married and moving to Britain in the mid-1950s with my mother. They briefly lived in Newcastle before moving to London for twelve years and then finally settled in Manchester. My parents were part of a large wave of migration from South Asia to Britain in the 1950s and 60s.

Pakistan was a new country facing a lot of challenges, among which were the significant number of young Pakistani graduates who were moving to Britain to establish a better life for themselves. Kilic (2008: 435-436) and others have described how, after the Second World War, there was a large wave of immigration from the Indian subcontinent to Britain, to help reconstruct the British cities and industries that had been destroyed during the war. Migrants took on the worst and lowest paid jobs to make up for the labour shortage in Britain. Members of the Commonwealth countries were considered to be citizens of the British Commonwealth, and were entitled to the same legal and civic rights as those born in Britain (Kilic 2008: 435-436). Not all were from poor backgrounds or came to fill low paid jobs. Werbner (1990: 64) notes that a significant number of Pakistanis were from an established, middle-class urban background. These included civil servants and professionals such as teachers, accountants, social workers and doctors. Werbner also points out that in spite of the fact that Muslims in Britain were considered a relatively deprived group, the Muslim community has achieved various degrees of socio-economic mobility (2002: 100). Many first-generation British-Pakistanis who moved to Manchester and started life as factory workers eventually built small businesses and moved into the suburbs (Werbner 2002: 10). This was also true of my father and many of his friends who came to Britain at the same time. They worked their way up in their careers to establish themselves. Others achieved success in business and property development, making

10 the most of the opportunities that Britain had to offer and reaping the benefits of their hard work.

According to my parents, there were not many South Asians near them at time of their arrival in Britain in 1950s. They wanted to create a sense of familiarity by forging friendships with others who shared a similar cultural background and language, and who could relate to their daunting experience of leaving home and moving to a country that was alien to them. Therefore, they explained that friendships among South Asians across class, region of origin and religious divide was common at that time in Britain. They shared the common goal of retaining their values and recreating aspects of the culture of their homeland in the host country. With the influx of more South Asians in the late 1950s and early 1960s, my parents and other South Asians started to establish more specific friendship groups with those who shared the same religion as well as culture, to create a sense of community that seemed more homogeneous to them. All these friendships offered my parents a sense of belonging that remedied their earlier feeling of isolation. This familiarity also gave my parents the confidence to step out of their comfort zone- to get to know their English neighbours, the shopkeepers and people in the local area who made them feel they were part of an inclusive local community and overarching nation state. Their efforts to integrate in this way enabled them to become more fluent in English and accustomed to the British way of life, and familiar with British culture, humour and food. Living among the English and people of other nationalities fed my parent’s curiosity about different cultures and backgrounds. More importantly, it allowed them to recognise that they had more in common than they had envisaged at first. They realised that many of their concerns, aspirations and values were almost universal, shared by others across the religious and cultural divides.1 I believe it was my upbringing, and having parents who

1 I argue that my parents were experiencing integration with a difference, by finding similarities in values and lifestyle among non-Pakistanis and non-Muslims around them. Their understanding of integration coincided with ideas of multiculturalism. According to Baumann (1999: 85), multiculturalism is not about keeping fixed cultural differences apart, but rather it is about the recognition of overlapping similarities. Although this thesis will not address multiculturalism as a public policy in Britain, I acknowledge that my parents experienced being migrants at a time when the hegemonic discourse on migration was multiculturalism. In Britain, multicultural policies were deployed to help immigrants from post-colonial countries settle in and integrate into the host country. These policies were inspired by the policies implemented in the U.S.A, Canada and Australia. The problem that multiculturalism has posed in these countries is an ongoing debate between those calling for assimilation and those calling for the

11 were curious about other faiths and cultures, that influenced my desire to become an anthropologist.

There have been many previous studies done on British-Pakistanis, as they are a sizable minority in Britain, and their presence and influence in society has not been overlooked. The results of the 2011 census analysis for Manchester showed that Pakistanis make up 2.1% of the population in England, 2.7% of the population of the North West, 4.9% in Greater Manchester, and 8.5% in Manchester.2 Since 2001 Pakistanis are the largest ethnic minority group in Manchester, making up 9% of the population (Jivraj 2013: 1). The 2011 census showed that in the ten year period from 2001 to 2011, there was a 73% rise in the number of Pakistanis living in Manchester, with a total of 42,904 people (Jivraj 2013: 1). Looking at the percentage of Pakistanis in other cities in England, a report in the Telegraph (20 November 2008) showed that Birmingham has one of the largest Pakistani population in the world outside of Pakistan, at 11% of its population. This report also states that Pakistanis make up 15.6% of the population of Bradford, showing that there is a greater proportion of Pakistanis in parts of Yorkshire in comparison to Manchester.

What would another investigation of people of Pakistani descent contribute to the academic discussion? I was interested in finding out how the experiences of the women in my study, juxtaposed with the values and experiences passed down by their parents, have defined what it means to them to be British Pakistani. Although it could be contested that enough studies have been done on British Pakistanis, and on British Asians more generally, I argue there is still much to explore.3 In particular, identities evolve from one generation to the next and subsequent generations face different challenges and encounter different experiences than those of their parents. For

preservation of the cultures of ethnic minorities (Yuval-Davis 1997: 197). Touraine argues that, in order for multiculturalism to work, social unity and cultural diversity need to go hand in hand, claiming that, ‘It is not the separation of cultures or the isolation of subcultures which makes a multicultural society, it is their intercommunication, hence the need for a common language which will allow coming to terms with each other while recognising differences’ (Touraine 1997 cited in Grillo 2005: 38).

2 Census 2011, Office of National Statistics. 3 Ballard (1994) and Baumann (1996) are examples of some scholars who have studied first generation British South Asians in general, from different religious and cultural backgrounds.

12 example, the nature of prejudice that British–Pakistanis are subjected to has shifted from the racism predominately experienced by the first generation, to Islamophobia in more recent times. Therefore, my research contributes to the scholarly discussion of British Pakistanis by examining the lives of middle-class British-Pakistani women in the context of general Islamophobia in the Western world. Among the women in my study, the rhetoric of Islamophobia was the impetus to challenge the negative stereotypes of Muslims and Muslim women as being submissive and void of agency. One of the main contributions of my work is to explore how my interlocutors wanted to show non- Muslims that Muslim and British values were the same. In their day-to-day life they were demonstrating that it was possible to proud of being both British and Muslim, and that there is no tension between the two identities, as is depicted in the media. For those women who chose to wear a headscarf, visual piety was an import way to represent Islam in a positive light, through conduct designed to show that the principles of being a good British citizen were the same as being a good Muslim. Their goal was to prove to people that they were model migrants who were worthy of respect and recognition through their achievements. They also wanted to show white British people and other middle-class migrants in Britain that they espouse the same British values as them, and deserved equal recognition for their contribution to British society. However, there was more to the lives of middle-class British-Pakistani women than this reaction to Islamophobia. Although this thesis explores how women have coped with Islamophobia, my main interest is to show the everyday complex negotiations they engage with in different contexts in order to create and maintain a sense of belonging to being middle-class British-Pakistani in Britain today. Within these negotiations they inevitably reacted to Islamophobia, but their lives and interests go beyond and are much richer than what their reactions to racism and prejudice could express.

Although the middle-class experience of Islamophobia among British-Pakistanis is a relatively recent topic of research, previous studies of British-Pakistanis provide an invaluable foundation to my thesis, in particular the works of Werbner (1990, 2002) and Shaw (1988, 2000). These studies have shed light on the settlement of British- Pakistanis between 1950 and 1970. Werbner’s (1990, 2002) study of first-generation

Pakistanis in Manchester and Shaw’s (1988, 2000) study of first-generation Pakistanis in Oxford has given me an understanding of the migration history and settlement of the first generation and also the ways in which the first generation attempted to replicate some of the rituals from their homeland and maintain their cultural and religious values. Even though the above literature touches upon the middle-class and the second generation, the focus has been mainly on first-generation working-class Pakistanis, and second-generation youth from a working-class background. Both Baumann (1996) and Ballard (1984) have based their studies on the working–class, mainly first generation British-South Asians which included British-Pakistanis.

My study, which is predominantly ethnographic, focuses on issues of class and the building of capital (social, cultural, moral) in the experiences of and from the perspectives of middle-class and predominantly second-generation British-Pakistani women. A motivating factor for the women in my study to be so competitive was their awareness of the sacrifices their parents had made to create the conditions that would allow the family to move up socially and economically. Parents, particularly mothers, were the driving force behind the women in my study. From a young age, mothers took an interest in their daughter’s academic progress, encouraging and supporting them to excel in their education. Their upbringing had a huge impact on their ambitions, values and the way they raised their own children. For example, the value of education was pivotal to the women in my study, and they were competitive with other parents about their children’s academic and extra-curricular achievements. Maintaining and improving their status was a matter of great importance, and competition between the women regarding all aspects of their lives was an ever- present driving force, as I will show throughout this thesis.

Bhimji (2012) describes a recent study of a similar demographic. She worked with young British-Asian Muslim women in Manchester and Preston, mostly university students and young professionals she met at Islamic study centres and mosques. Bhimji’s study looks at the lives of British Asians from the standpoint of their Islamic identity and experiences of being a British Muslim. Bhimji highlights how women exploit Islamic rhetoric to challenge patriarchal expectations and other cultural constraints, and how Islam is used as a tool for empowerment (2012: 23-28). Although

14 my research covers similar ground, the emphasis of my study is on British-Pakistani identities, whereas Bhimji focuses on a more general British-Asian Muslim experience. My study looks beyond the religious and cultural experience of middle-class British- Pakistani women, and observes women’s everyday lives from the perspective of their roles as mothers, aunts, daughters, sisters, daughters-in-law and friends. It explores what it means to be British-Pakistani and why this particular identity is important as a means of amassing capital and recognition, highlighting the multiple identities which intersect at different points in their life. Unlike Bhimji’s study, my study shows that the social milieu in which the women engage predict the overriding identities, foregrounding the ones that would earn the most capital.

Furthermore, earlier research on British Asians (including Pakistanis) such as the work of Ballard (1984) have discussed the impact of prejudice on first-generation migrants and the ways in which they have dealt with it.4 The relationship of young second- generation British Asians with their parents’ culture and their British-Asian identity has been pivotal in Ballard’s work (1984, 2008). Ballard (1984) analyses the settlement of South Asians in Britain and the strategies that they have adopted to deal with obstacles such as prejudice, cultural differences and language barriers. Ballard coined the term ‘ethnic crystallisation’ (2008: 44) to describe a support network and pooling of resources among fellow migrants belonging to the same ethnic group, to help each other deal with unfamiliar surroundings and draw comfort and strength from one another, thus establishing a community in which they felt a sense of belonging and respect. Ballard’s concept of ‘ethnic crystallisation’ refers to an exclusive support network applying to those who belong within the same ethnic group. Ballard describes how this support network was critical in aiding fellow migrants to find a place to live or to find a job in order to help them settle in the host country (2008: 44).

Although Ballard’s point is important in the context he observed, one needs to be aware that the idea of social cohesion led some researchers to theorise ethnic groups as bounded categories. This theoretical approach could overlook the many other forms

6. The category of ‘British Asian’ or ‘South Asian’ includes other South Asians, relating to both religious groups (such as Hindus, Sikhs, Christians, and Buddhists) and also nationalities (for example Indians, Bangladeshis, and Sri Lankans).

15 of interaction between people outside of their ethnic or religious group. Glick Schiller, Caglar, and Guldbradsen (2006: 613) point out that the idea of ethnic group as a unit of analysis has been taken for granted by researchers, and contest that it fails to account for non-ethnic forms of connections and multifaceted identities based on class, religion, occupation, and social position, thus creating an illusion of homogeneity. The significance of non-ethnic forms of migrant incorporation sheds light on relationships that go beyond common culture and history, giving a more accurate depiction of the lives of migrants.

Although one needs to be attentive on going beyond the ‘ethnic lenses’ framework (Glick Schiller, Caglar, and Guldbradsen 2006: 613), what Ballard (2008: 44) is referring to with his idea of ethnic crystallisation is a form of social solidarity and a coping strategy among first-generation South Asians in response to prejudice and an unfamiliar way of life and surroundings in Britain. The women in my study simultaneously created a sense of ethnic cohesion while also establishing relationships with non-Pakistanis of other faiths, but they were still fighting against discrimination and prejudice in their daily lives. The difference between their and their parents’ generation has been the increasing public and global resonance and impact of Islamophobia.

Prejudice

As described above, one of the reasons why research into middle-class British- Pakistanis women captured my interest was how they grappled with the notion of belonging. Like other non-white ethnic minorities, their skin colour was a marker of difference, but also being Muslim made them susceptible to religious prejudice and, based on actual evidence, they did not always feel accepted in Britain. Kundani (2007) notes that acceptance in Britain can be challenging for Muslims because being Muslim has become a symbol of difference, the antithesis of ‘whiteness’ or ‘Britishness’ (cited in Ahmad and Evergeti 2010: 1698). Likewise, the women I worked with were mindful of the fact that in public their skin colour and religious and cultural differences were

16 disparities which overshadowed the similarities they shared with white British people such as socio-economic status, nationality and other interests. I discuss the experiences of prejudice and impact of Islamophobia on my participants in greater detail in Chapter 2.5

There have been a number of contributory factors resulting in increasing prejudice towards Muslims in Britain and in the West. First and foremost, some newspapers have played a significant role in inciting hatred towards Muslims by inculcating negative images and stereotypes of Muslims and British-Pakistanis in the minds of their readers. The marginalisation of British Muslims, particularly British Asian Muslims, was present long before the events of 9/11. While many British Asian Muslims were targets of racism and cultural and religious prejudice, those who were working-class also endured further prejudice as a result of their socio-economic position. The Labour Force Survey, compiled during the 1980s, showed higher rates of unemployment among British-Pakistanis and British-Bangladeshis (Modood 2010: 14). This survey also showed that British-Pakistanis and British-Bangladeshis attained the lowest level of education qualifications (Modood 2010: 14). This clearly shows that this particular minority group were already on the margins of society before the events of 9/11. Song (2004) argues that these socio-economic issues, juxtaposed with events of 9/11, have earned British-Asian Muslims a poor reputation.6

A number of studies on British-Asians have highlighted the negative reputation of British Asians who are Muslim. Maxwell (2006: 738) in his study of British-Asian Muslims, describes how Bangladeshi and Pakistani immigrants who arrived in Britain during the 1950s had lower levels of education in comparison to those from the Caribbean and Indians who had settled in Britain a little earlier. Maxwell (2006: 737) discusses studies by Nanton (1999) and Heath and McMahan (2005) on migrants who came to Britain during the 1950s from former British colonies. Nanton (1999) states

5 Lopez (2010: 556), in his paper on the definition of Islamophobia, notes that according to Allen (2006) the term ‘Islamophobia’ became common in the late 1980s to describe the antipathy towards Muslims and the discrimination against Muslims in the West. The Runnymede Trust’s Commission on British Muslims and Islamophobia (CBMI) defines Islamophobia as ‘an unfounded hostility towards Islam, and therefore fear or dislike of all or most Muslims’ (cited in Meer and Modood 2009: 691). 6 ‘Asian’ is sometimes used instead of ‘Pakistani’ to specify all Muslims of South Asian descent, including Indians and Bangladeshis.

17 that people from the Caribbean generally did not struggle with social integration because their faith and language meant that they were familiar with British culture, as they shared the language and religion of most white British people (cited in Maxwell 2006: 737). Heath and McMahan (2005) note that Bangladeshi and Pakistani immigrants remain the poorest minority in Britain, whereas Indian immigrants achieved economic success because they were generally well educated and highly skilled (cited in Maxwell 2006: 737). Thus, it is not surprising that some British-Indians distance themselves from British-Pakistanis, as is highlighted in Raj’s (2003) study of middle-class Hindu Punjabis in Britain. This study shows that British-Pakistanis are looked down upon and branded as ‘bad migrants’ and ‘Muslim Other’ with whom middle-class Hindu Punjabis share nothing in common (Raj 2003: 61).

Prejudice also stems from cultural differences, and scholars point out that many Muslim Asians are vulnerable to cultural racism because they are seen to be detached from mainstream society through dress, lifestyle and cultural and religious practices (Song 2004; Hussain and Bagguley 2012). That integration and assimilation had been an easier process for other ethnic minority groups has meant that Islam is seen as incompatible with British lifestyle, and another reason why Muslims in Britain face such hostility. Werbner (2004: 906) states that studies show that non-Muslim Asians have successfully integrated into host society because they have espoused secularism and popular British culture such as drinking and clubbing, whereas many British- Muslim Pakistani religious leaders harbour anti-Western sentiment and see British youth culture as hedonistic, immoral and incompatible with Muslims values. Many of these leaders have an influence over British-Muslim youth who follow the trajectory of a literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures (Werbner 2004: 898). Prejudice and negative images affect the ways in which British-Pakistanis see themselves and develop a sense of belonging. Therefore, many British-Pakistanis have embraced a Muslim identity and prefer to socialise and identify with other British-Pakistanis and British Muslims. Belonging for them takes place through sameness and acceptance, and therefore embracing a British-Muslim identity or socialising with other British Pakistanis gives them recognition and earns them respect for their values, lifestyle,

18 cultural and religious similarity and interests. In my study, women lived through an intersection of the different identities, which I describe briefly in the section below.

Intersecting identities

In this section I look at how agency relates to the intersecting of a range of different identities. The women I worked with had agency to take certain categories applicable to them such as British, Pakistani, female, Muslim, middle-class, and to mobilise them into useful resources that would help them to create a valuable sense of themselves in competition with others. The women achieved this by intersecting specific identities that not only earned them prestige and power, but also enabled them to identify with others with whom they want to belong. Thus, among the women in my study, belonging implied the incorporation of particular identities based on ethnicity, religion, gender, class and generation in terms of migration. For example, generation in terms of migration determined belonging. Second-generation British-Pakistanis were socialised into a British way of life from a young age through school and this familiarity, interests, life experiences, and friends and family made them feel rooted and to have a sense of belonging in Britain.

Weeks (1990: 88) notes that identity is about belonging: it underpins the differences as well as commonalities we share with others, offering a sense of personal location within a social, political, and cultural situation. Similarly, Parekh, in his work on multiculturalism, also points out that identity is about belonging and that belonging functions as a network of close relations and a support system, stemming from shared beliefs and interests (2006: 24). I argue that these shared values and beliefs were neither timeless nor fixed. More importantly, the women in my study were in fact demonstrating the intersection of multiple identities and being British, Muslim and Pakistani were not monolithic identities, but were contextual depending on the circumstances. Thus, different combinations of intersecting identities could be as broad or narrow as my participants wished within the boundaries they constructed and those with which they had to manage.

Therefore race, ethnicity, class, gender and religion were categories used to establish sameness and difference, and the connections between these categories were lived in complex ways. Wade (2010: 13) has argued that racial and ethnic identities are partial, fragmented and contextual. It is crucial to take into account other factors of identity- making and how they impinge on the categories of race and ethnicity because classifications such as ‘black’ and ‘white’ are limiting if other factors have not been accounted for, such as gender, sexuality, age, class and wealth. According to Wade (2010: 12), the study of race is embedded in history, traced back to European colonialists who exploited phenotypical differences to highlight hierarchies that had no empirical or scientific evidence. Many biologists, geneticists and physical anthropologists today argue that, biologically speaking, race does not exist, making the notion of race nothing more than an idea (Wade 2010: 13), albeit, an idea that has very material effects on people’s lives and social relationships. Even though race has no biological basis, Wade (2010: 14) has pointed out that facial features, skin colour and hair type have been and are still used to create racial distinctions that are understood as being transmitted ‘by blood’ through generations.

Wade discusses how the term ‘ethnicity’ became more popular through its use in academic language. It generally refers to ‘cultural’ differences rather than the more controversial notion of phenotype and physical appearance, although it can also include the latter (Wade 2010: 16). Ethnicity is derived from the Greek word ethnos meaning people or nation, and has generally been applied to groups of people seen as minorities residing within larger national states. Like race, ethnicity is a social construction. Both terms can refer to the collective understanding and acceptance of a common origin and therefore can also be used to distinguish racial and/or ethnic forms of sameness and difference (Wade 2010: 15-16). Porqueres i Gene (2007) highlights that ethnicity is about cultural geography, where the culture of a place is absorbed from those of previous generations who migrated from their homeland (cited in Wade 2010:20). Therefore, as social constructs that refer to time (origin) and place, which is the way in which I understand both race and ethnicity here, these categories can be deployed by different people in different ways in various contexts. At times they will

20 seem fixed and essential, especially when asymmetrically imposed on a specific group by those with more influence or in a position of power. Race and ethnicity can then enter the realm of hegemonic discourses, such as those encouraging Islamophobia. For instance, Kyriakides, Virdee and Modood, in their study on the relationship between racism and nationalism in Scotland and England, use the concept of ‘ethnically fixed’, which refers to something that is created through the stigma of otherness (2009: 292). This means that religious practices ascribe people to an ethnic group which is then perceived to become their absolute identity (Kyriakides, Virdee and Modood 2009: 292). Werbner (1997: 228) refers to this as ‘essentialism’ – the act of ascribing an identity or specific quality onto others, either a person or a group such as religious, ethnic or social groups. It creates the illusion that this ascribed identity is fixed, absolute and impervious to change. For example, the British-Pakistani women in my study were ascribed an Pakistani identity by those who held fixed ideas about British- Pakistanis stemming from negative stereotypes often typified in the British media. ‘Asian’ denoted a more encompassing identity to include non-Pakistani Asian Muslims and non-Muslim Asians with whom they shared a similar cultural heritage.

At other times people can mobilise race and ethnicity, while intersecting them with other identity categories, for their own use in everyday encounters. In this thesis I look at how the women in my research have engaged in this process, while having to deal with hegemonic ideas of British-Pakistani Muslims circulating, especially, in the media. Therefore, the notion of agency is salient in my study. I use agency in a similar vein as Mahmood (2005), who has written extensively on the subject of agency, particularly from the viewpoint and understanding of women from the Middle East. In her study of Islamic revivalism in Egypt, Mahmood (2005: 6) argues for the need to look beyond the notion of submission and patriarchy to grasp the understanding of agency and gender in non-Western societies. The portrayal of Arab and Muslim women is often reduced to one of passiveness and submission, and those scholars who have done extensive work in this field highlight how Arab and Muslim women are active agents who do have a voice (Mahmood 2005: 6). According to Mahmood (2005: 8), agency is the ability to recognise women’s own interests against the pressure of religious and cultural influences. The women in my study were empowered through their education,

21 skills and achievements and had agency to make decisions and to lead the life they desired. Agency also allowed my participants to select the identities that had a motive, agenda or positive recognition. The intersection of gender and socio-economic mobility enabled the women I worked with to access the agency to challenge stereotypes, acquire capital and achieve their goal of being a positive representation of their faith and ethnic background. Juxtaposed with race, ethnicity, religion and class, gender plays a significant role in identity. Gender identity was prominent not only in the domestic sphere but also very much enmeshed in class identity and the public image of themselves that the women wanted to portray.

Among the women I observed, there was very much an intersection of gender and class. Bourdieu highlighted the correlation between class and aesthetics, stating that confidence in appearance increases with social hierarchy- speech, deportment, mannerisms, posture and aesthetics such as make-up, clothing style, body shape and hairstyle were signifiers of social class (1984: 204). Bourdieu also describes eating habits as a signifier of class and that healthy, nutritious food choices were important among the middle-class in France (1984: 188). Similarly, the women in my study also selected foods that were wholesome, nutritious, and not laden with calories. A specific sense of femininity that was outwardly expressed was important among my participants. They invested greatly in their appearance, not only in their clothes and accessories, but also in integrating a fitness and beauty regime into their busy schedule.

My interlocutors selected gender roles that appealed to them. For instance, some of the traditional gender roles such as women being in charge of the domestic sphere worked in their favour, because having a privileged middle-class status meant that they could afford to take a career break and rely on their husband’s income and still maintain a certain lifestyle. The women in my study were not the main bread-winners in their families, and thus did not have to contribute much of their earnings towards living expenses. What the women earned was their own and they relied on their husband’s income to pay for their living expenses and lifestyle. My participants had achieved their career goals before having children. The fact that they had a profession was still an important facet of their identity, and an achievement of which they were

22 proud. Once their children were older and more independent, they planned to resume their professional lives. In the meantime, they devoted time to their families and enjoyed a career break or part-time work. This also allowed them to engage in other pursuits which would earn them capital within their social and family circles, such as increasing their religious knowledge, acquiring new skills and interests, participating in charity work and intensifying their presence in the family.

Mahmood describes agency as possessing two types of freedom, negative and positive. According to her description, negative freedom is the absence of barriers to choices, whereas positive freedom indicates the presence of certain obstacles in the way of choices, such as religious and cultural constraints. Positive freedom would then be the ability to manoeuver around these obstacles to make choices that serve one’s self interest (Mahmood 2005: 11). In my study, I define agency as the ability to choose different possibilities that work to the advantage of my participants within the various constrains and contexts in which they competed for status and/or autonomy, which is akin to Mahmood’s notion of positive freedom. Thus, my interlocutors had agency to espouse certain identities and cultural expectations that worked to their advantage. At the same time, and whenever possible, they overlooked certain customs and values, British or Pakistani, which hindered their own sense of themselves. At times this seemed contradictory because they upheld certain principles in certain contexts and occasions, which at other times they chose to ignore. However, this juggling made sense to them. An example of positive freedom was the ability to exploit religious and cultural values that worked in their favour and earned them capital, recognition and power within their families and amongst their friends, while maintaining a sense of independence as professional women. Some women in my study felt empowered through religious practices, such as learning more about their faith or by the way the dressed, such as wearing a headscarf or abaya.7 Sharing religious knowledge with their friends and family earned these women status and respect- they could celebrate their faith and earn respect for their religious knowledge and observance. The important aspect here is that they were choosing to take on these roles with a good dose of

7 An abaya is a long loose cloak worn over garments (Ahmad: 2008).

23 critical self-awareness, rather than simply blindly surrendering themselves to prescribed patriarchal customs.

Positive freedom added an element of challenge, because certain cultural expectations had to be fulfilled in order to achieve the status the women strived for. Consequently, autonomy may be understood as the ability to ‘select’ one’s desire regardless of how illiberal such desires may seem (Mahmood 2005: 12). For example, the idea of being a ‘dutiful’ daughter-in-law and compliance to in-laws may seem oppressive to those who are not familiar with cultural expectations upheld by some Pakistanis and South Asians. Being a dutiful daughter-in-law was a way of gaining recognition and status. Not only would the women be acknowledged and respected among their in-laws, but they would be an inspiration and set an example to friends and family members, and at the same time make their own parents and husband proud of them. At the same time, the women exploited religious rhetoric to contest aspects of patriarchal culture that they did not benefit from. Agency enabled the women in my study to assert aspects of their cultural, religious and national identity that they found resourceful: therefore, identities were in a constant state of flux and continuously intersecting to garner capital, status and power. Essentially, it is by playing with these specific gender roles and expectations that the women were empowered to assert themselves as autonomous agents in their family, which is so important to them.

According to Foucault (1978, 1980), the definition of agency should not be limited to domination or sovereignty over others, but should include a broader definition open to new possibilities (cited in Mahmood 2005: 17). Likewise, in my study, my participants did not keep up all customs, values and expectations upheld by the previous generation. They upheld the customs they valued, and which worked in their interest to empower them to maximise their status. The women in my study also noticed that some customs and cultural conventions they regarded as important were being discarded by second generation British-Pakistani women who were not their contemporaries, but younger than them, because they sought alternative means of gaining capital and recognition. With each generation expectations and values were changing and women were seeking alternative ways to secure status and power. The

24 interests and values of my interlocutors were different from those of first-generation Pakistanis and second-generation British-Pakistanis who were much younger. Therefore, age and migrant-generation are equally as influential as gender, religion, ethnicity and class in maximising capital and status in order to belong.

Typically, the women in my study had agency to select particular identities that would earn them recognition at that particular moment. The value of certain identities was contextual and dependent on social situations. Werbner (2013), in her study of multiculturalism and intersection of identities among British-Pakistanis, looks at the contrast in experiences and identities of first-generation Pakistanis and second- generation British-Pakistanis. Werbner asserts that Pakistani migrants hold three distinct identities: religious, South Asian and Pakistani. At times these three identities intersect and at other times they are separate. South Asian encompasses aesthetics of fun, such as music and dance, whereas a Pakistani identity upholds loyalty to family, community and ancestral home, and religious identity promotes an idealistic view of moral order (Werbner 2013: 410). This is precisely what I observed at the social and religious events I attended during my time in the field.

My thesis demonstrates the intersecting of different identities. Each chapter illustrates the intersecting identities that are most resourceful to my participants, such as British- Muslim, middle-class British-Muslim, or middle-class British-Pakistani. For example, Chapter 2 illustrates that at certain social and religious gatherings, British-Muslim identities were the most empowering for the women in my study, whereas in Chapter 3 the women exploited British-Pakistani and middle-class identities to secure the most capital at a ‘women only’ dinner to celebrate British-Pakistani culture. At these social gatherings among family and British-Pakistani friends, they celebrated British-Pakistani culture through dress, food, music and conversation. Women earned capital through their knowledge of current Pakistani culture in Pakistan, knowledge and practice of Islam, adhering to cultural conventions such as being a dutiful daughter and daughter- in-law, and teaching their children about their religious and cultural heritage. Social gatherings were competitive arenas. The women were competitive and measured their own credentials and their children’s achievements against their own and their

25 children’s contemporaries. Chapter 4 looks at the intersection of class and religious identity to earn capital. In this chapter, middle-class status is inherent in the way the women express their understanding of their faith through actions, lifestyle and dress.

Conceptual considerations

In the section above, I demonstrated the salience of intersected identities to amass power and recognition. Now that I have discussed the dynamics of the intersecting of different identities for the women with whom I worked, it is important to look at the relationship between capital (social and cultural) and identity. This is fundamental to my study because my participants have a very strong and conscious notion of the effects of racial, religious and class-based identities in their own lives and to who they are. The ideas of ‘capital’ and ‘social field’ that Bourdieu (1984) developed has helped me to analyse the complex ways in which the women in my study try to make the most out of the demands of their lives, and juggle between the many categories of identification that have been ascribed to them. Inscribing value to these categories was a form of empowerment for the women, enabling them to carve a favourable position for themselves within specific social fields. Social identity theories and scholars (Ahmed, 2005; Barth, 1969; Choudhry, 2010; Hall, 1997) have highlighted that identities are contextual, and that the performance of particular identities has the purpose of manifesting positive recognition. Therefore, identity is about social relations, the values we share with others and our interactions with others, which offers us a sense of personal location and belonging (Weeks 1990: 88-89). It is precisely these values that, as I demonstrate in my research, garner capital among the women I observed.

Parekh describes how a sense of identity, self-respect and self-esteem are constructed within social relationships and therefore validated by others, and this is a reason why encounters of prejudice and marginalisation ebb one’s self-esteem (2008: 24, 50). Similarly, in my experience in the field, I found that women ascribed importance to those aspects of their identity that had a positive recognition among the people with

26 whom they interacted. More importantly, the women in my study did not identify solely with their parents’ cultural tradition. They were grappling with values and identities which they had to navigate through, often finding themselves in different positions and ascribing to values and identities that were at times contradictory and opposing. They were trying to make sense for themselves of ways of being which would grant them the most capital, and the agency and recognition they wished to achieve.

Throughout my thesis I have used Bourdieu’s understanding of capital to explain the ways in which certain practices, objects, performances, relationship, are imbued with positive values that create a sense of self-worth. He defined capital as ‘accumulated labour in its materialised or embodied form’ (1986: 46). According to Bourdieu, culture and social relationships are a form of capital pivotal to class relationships (Bennet et al 2009:2). Capital is gained at the expense of those who do not possess it (Bourdieu 1984: 11), therefore, of those who do not belong. For the women in my study, social capital was achieved among those who shared the same values, expectations and interests. The value of capital that one possesses rests on the existence of a field, which Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992: 98) define as a place of play where conflict, competition and collaboration occur. The influence of capital is most effective within a social field because it is a space where capital can be exploited as a weapon, as something that people strive for. Among my participants, their family and British- Muslims, both Pakistani and non-Pakistani friends became competitors in the social field through which social capital and other forms of capital could produce its effects. Strictly speaking, social fields for my participants were the institutions in which they participated such as the mosque, the workplace, and their children’s school where they participated in school fairs and other events. Furthermore, in the case of the women I was observing in social situations such as dinner parties, social gatherings and other social events, these served as arenas of competition and functioned in a similar way to a social field as described by Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992: 98-108).

According to Goffman (1956: 44-45) within a social situation, groups or individuals put on a performance in front of others who become the audience: the situation becomes an arena where interaction occurs. This performance that occurs within a social

27 situation generates competitiveness that adds to the notion of field. This was precisely akin to what I was observing at dinner parties and other social events I attended during my fieldwork. It is not to say that the women in my study were accomplished in every domain. In social situations, among friends and acquaintances, it was not expected of them to master all skills and possess all attributes that earned recognition among middle-class British Pakistani women. They did not achieve success in every aspect of their social life - this would be an unrealistic expectation. There were multiple ways of acquiring capital, which I give examples of in the following paragraph. Therefore, women were interested in social situations where their particular strengths and expertise granted them status and acknowledgment.

Taking the example of a daughter-in-law, the women were fulfilling the expectations of their in-laws on how to be a dutiful daughter-in-law. This worked to their advantage because the better they performed, the more autonomy they gained to control their own lives. Identities and values were contextual and constructed for the purpose of amassing capital, therefore the boundaries were redefined depending on their relative positions within the social field. On some occasions, the private and public domain overlapped, for example when women competed with friends as well as family members regarding parenting skills. Having well-mannered disciplined children who not only excelled academically but also had a strong religious and cultural upbringing was a reflection on the mother’s parenting skills, and these skills earned them prestige not only among family members but also among friends.

In many ways, what I was observing was akin to Barth’s study on ethnic groups and boundaries, as the women in my study were establishing collective values in the same way as Barth (1969:14) describes the use of collective identities. Acceptance among family and within a social group was salient for my participants. Therefore, as a strategy to elevate their esteem and gain recognition in certain situations and among certain audiences, they exploited the idea of collective values. Among family such as parents, siblings, in-laws and other relatives they established this through shared cultural, social and moral values. Barth (1969: 14) worked with the idea of collective identities such as language, lifestyle, dress code, and the social and moral values that people use to specify themselves. My participants were exploiting collective values and

28 expectations in their roles as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, aunt and in-law to garner capital and recognition.

Barth states that boundaries between ethnic groups are constructed in the interaction between people who see themselves as different from others, and these boundaries modify over time (1969: 14). Barth’s concept of ethnic groups and their porous boundaries is extremely useful for the investigation of how people negotiate the criteria of their social identities contextually and in interactions with others. Ethnic groups are not bounded homogeneous social units: ‘ethnic group’ is a concept that serves a purpose. It is essential to note that boundaries make it possible to create ethnic distinction whilst still maintaining inter-ethnic social interaction, allowing the flow of people and information across them (Barth 1969: 9). The women in my study were constantly revising and re-negotiating their roles and expectations, which were in a state of flux: fluid and contextual. Furthermore, the study of transnationalism within migration studies also pinpoints the salience of inter-ethnic social relationships, challenging the common idea in sociological studies of ethnic groups as real bounded units of analysis (Glick Schiller, Caglar and Guldbrandsen 2006). As mentioned above, ethnic groups are not intrinsically bounded, but that boundedness is itself created in response to different situations (Glick Schiller 2008: 3). Therefore, it is important not to impose boundaries on a group of people we study or on categories such as class, race and ethnicity. Instead, it is critical to observe how people themselves exploit these different identities such as religion, ethnicity, gender and class for sameness and difference to create boundaries, to distinguish themselves, and to carve themselves out a social space within a society (Glick Schiller 2008).

The chapters in my thesis illustrate the diversity among British-Pakistanis women, showing that there are other identities important to them, besides religious and ethnic, which garner them status, empowerment and belonging in multiple ways. Taking Glick Schiller, Caglar and Guldbrandsen’s (2006) criticism of the use of ethnic groups as an analytical tool and as a unit of analysis, in this thesis I will explore how middle-class second-generation British-Pakistani women negotiate the porous boundaries of their multiple intersecting identities within competitive social fields, by

29 playing with the resources they have at hand and transforming them into capital that they will use to strengthen their position in relation to each other and to wider society. It is in these daily negotiations that women develop a sense of belonging as British Pakistani in the current political context of the UK.

Middle-class Identity

Throughout my thesis I discuss how my interlocutors do not feel that their middle-class status is recognised among many white British people as a result of prejudice and the stereotypical images they hold of British-Pakistanis and Muslims. Several scholars on migration studies have pointed out a similar situation in their own work (Kittab, Johnson, Modood and Sirkeci 2011; Anthias 2001; Raj 2005). Shahrokni’s (2015) study of social mobility among the children of North African immigrants in France shows the salience of the relationship between ethnicity, race and class. Goffman (1963) argues that ‘Arab-looking’ phenotype work as ‘information carriers’ that attach minority status to low socio-economic background and limited knowledge of high culture (cited in Shahrokni 2015: 1057). According to Archer, professional people from an ethnic minority background considered middle-class ethnic identity to be an anomaly, as they associate middle-class status with whiteness (2012: 135). My informants did not think that their middle-class position was an anomaly, but believed that their class identity was not acknowledged by a lot of white British people because it was overshadowed by markers of differences such as skin colour, religious or cultural differences. Consequently, the women in my study chose to celebrate their social positioning among those who acknowledged it. Chapter 3, the women-only dinner dance celebrating British-Pakistani culture, illustrates the fact that middle-class status was negotiated amongst British-Pakistani women independently on whether or not this was recognised by white British people around them. Many British-Pakistanis at this event, for instance, looked to affluent Pakistanis who had recently settled in Britain from Pakistan as a source of culture and social capital. This did not necessarily imply that second-generation British-Pakistanis who came from a wealthy background acquired greater capital, but in some social situations knowledge or participation in

Pakistani high culture garnered recognition. Middle-class identity is very much enmeshed in personal appearance, femininity, knowledge of contemporary Pakistani culture through factors such as dress and language (fluency in Urdu), acquired through transnational social fields: demonstrating how class, gender and ethnicity are exploited by the women as resources they turn into capital. More importantly class status was performed in overlapping social fields with different priorities, contenders and interests.

All the women were immensely competitive and sought acknowledgment for their attributes. Those who did not have access to transnational social fields sought alternative ways of seeking capital, such as through religious knowledge or other skills and qualities. For example, academic progress of each other’s children seemed to be a popular topic of conversation at this and similar events. Information about schools, university league tables, teaching techniques and tutoring methods were shared among the women. My participants placed a lot of emphasis on their children’s academic progress, which to them reflected good parenting, and granted them social capital among their friends and family. I argue in this thesis that a certain type of parenting earned the women in my study social capital and recognition, such as the religious and cultural upbringing of their children, as well as academic success.

The importance of education and wealth is very much enmeshed in the migration history of South Asians. Raj (2005) argues that most South Asians who settled in Britain were largely from rural and working-class backgrounds. They saw themselves as successful migrants through their financial achievements, which promoted social mobility (2005:36). While some of the women I spoke to stated that their parents were from a middle-class background in Pakistan, the majority were from a rural or working- class background, and gained middle-class status in Britain through business or profession. Even those whose parents were working-class in Britain said that their parents had middle-class aspirations, such as valuing the importance of education. The purpose of their migration to Britain was to provide a better life for their children and to elevate the socio-economic status of their relatives in Pakistan through remittances to invest in education, property and business.

Therefore, while middle class as a social status required achievements that were recognised across ethnics and national borders, such as education, professional and economic standing, and consumption power (Divine 2004; Perrier 2012), the actual performance of it was very much placed within social fields that involved specific groups of family and peers who approved of and gave credit to the women’s achievements. At the same time, while striving for class recognition, which they knew was circumscribed within these fields, the women ultimately wanted to make a good impression of British Pakistanis and British Muslims that went beyond their immediate social group. Attaining capital, status and a middle-class standing was not only important to their own positioning within their group, but also to their belonging to Britain as British-Pakistanis.

Working as a native Anthropologist

Anthropologists have long discussed the position of native anthropologist, or insider anthropologist, and a few have argued against the formal dichotomy between inside/outside that the category implies (Chavez 2008, Messerschmidt 1981), maintaining that anthropologists’ identifications shift according to and alongside with their relationships (Narayan, 1993: 671-672). Without entering into the epistemological debate on the issue, I use the term here not simply because I share the same culture as my interlocutors, but also what Merton (1968) has called a ‘status set’ (Merton 1996:113). That is, I share with most of the women in my study identifications of gender, class, marital status, education, migration, and religious belief. I admit, however, that even as a native anthropologist I did not always identify with my research participants, and sometimes I felt very different from them. As I mentioned earlier, in recent years there has been an increasing trend among British Muslims, which includes British-Pakistani women, in asserting their religiosity. Many women in Manchester were espousing a more conservative interpretation of Islam and wearing the headscarf, a visual and public representation of their faith. This tendency did not resonate with my own personal religious practice.

My experiences as a native anthropologist showed me the diversity among people with whom I shared the same ethnic and religious background. I was constantly learning something new about the women, such as the multiple ways of expressing one’s faith and performing one’s cultural identity. Therefore, it was not surprising that at times during my fieldwork I felt like an outsider because of my own understanding of Islam, and my experiences of being a second-generation British Pakistani in Manchester were different from those of many of the women with whom I spent time. This can be quite common among native anthropologists. Bhimji (2012: 20) describes how her secular beliefs, values and life experiences often made her feel like an outsider. However, shared ethnic identity helped Bhimji to forge commonalities and to bridge the gap between her and her research participants. Like Bhimji, the research experience also made me feel simultaneously like an insider and outsider. I am what one can call a ‘native anthropologist’, and my story is at the same time both very specific to my own family and collectively shared.

Nevertheless, many people I spoke to assumed that studying my own society would be an easy task because of my familiarity with it in terms of language, customs and values. They were also under the impression that participants would be more open and accommodating to me because of the presumption that people are more open and trusting to those of a similar background. I admit that perhaps the first contact with the women may have been easier, however, occupying the position of native anthropologist (Narayan, 1993), I had to comply with cultural obligations and sanctions that would probably not have been imposed on someone who was not seen as an insider like myself.

Another disadvantage of being a native anthropologist was the likelihood of the participant being reticent or holding back information because of the fear of confidential information being leaked to others in the community: that is, the fear of gossip. Some participants feel they face being morally judged by the researcher who ascribes to the same cultural norms and values (Altorki 1989: 58). Embarking on my fieldwork, I was mindful of this and therefore I was very careful how I broached certain questions and topics so not to overstep the mark. Saying that, as I got to know my participants well, I became adept at gauging how much I could push the boundaries.

Over time, I gained their trust, allowing them to open up to me as they began to see me more as a friend than an interlocutor. The boundaries between us became blurred because we shared the same faith, ethnicity and social class. Regardless of the fact that I considered myself and was seen as a native anthropologist, I retained a sense of professionalism by being careful when expressing my own opinions on matters when these conflicted with those of my participants.

The common assumption among my participants that, as a native anthropologist, I had an implicit understanding about our shared culture had other consequences. Sometimes, the women in my research were less likely to be explicit in answering questions because of their assumption that sharing the same culture and religion gives the researcher an ability to read between the lines (Altorki 1989: 59). This was a rather arduous task in my experience, because I did not want to risk misconstruing the information my participants gave me. Even if they felt what they were discussing was obvious and self-explanatory, I still reiterated their statements or asked for an explanation. After a while my participants got used to this, realising the aim of my research was to be as accurate as possible about the information they imparted and came to appreciate my role as an anthropologist/researcher.

The seeming invisibility of men

Another problem in my role as a native anthropologist was the fact that I was supposed to understand, and respect boundaries associated with gender amongst British-Pakistani migrants. I believe that this hindered my access to men in a way that may not have happened for a female non-South Asian anthropologist, who would not have been expected to know certain gender codes of conduct. Attempting to interview men, such as the husbands of women I met in the field, would have been a somewhat controversial step in my case. The reason being that, in addition to expecting me to know the right way of conducting myself, the women did not know me well enough and therefore were not in a position to trust me to speak one-to-one with their spouses. At the root of this was the fear of gossip, because as a British-Pakistani woman it was not culturally appropriate for me to spend time with men I did not

34 know, particularly married men, and even more particularly, their husbands. Therefore, I was faced with cultural restrictions, and challenging these gendered cultural norms could effectively jeopardise my relationships in the field. This is something that Altorki also encountered in her own study. Her position as a Saudi woman conducting fieldwork in Jeddah meant that immunity and certain freedom were exclusively reserved for non-native anthropologists (1989: 58). Furthermore, on a practical note, the men may not have had the time to contribute to my research. Most of my participants worked flexible hours, part-time or had taken career breaks, and this meant that they had the time to commit to my research.

However, my participants often mentioned their husbands in conversation and on this basis, I was able to construct a portrait of them. From what they told me, their husbands played a supportive role in their lives, not only financially but also domestically. Husbands helped with household chores, and often shared the school run and other commitments involving the children. An evening out with their husband at least once a week, leaving the children with close relatives, was a priority for most of the women I spoke to. The fact that they led very fulfilling lives doing what brought them satisfaction showed that their spouses were quite often very supportive. On a number of occasions, my participants mentioned that they wanted to look good to make their husband proud and keep their marriage alive. For the women, the sacrifices they made such as putting their career on hold to raise their family and the efforts they made to manage their appearance was also an investment in their marriage. Their marriage was part of an investment in their own identities as wives, mothers, and dutiful daughters-in-law. In return, they not only expected love and trust in their marriage, but also support from their husband in the decisions they made and the lifestyle they led. Although the women had strong marital relationships they were not complacent about marriage, knowing that marriage was something that needed to be constantly worked at by both partners. Divorce was not a cultural taboo, and consequently the women I came across were aware that if marriage expectations were not met by either party, it could lead to breakdown. However, I did not delve into the intimacies of marriage as this was definitely the private domain, something that the

35 women did not want to share with me. As an anthropologist it was my duty to know the boundaries that could not be pushed.

Fieldwork and participants

I began fieldwork in October 2012 in South Manchester. My study involved following the lives of a core group of twelve women over a period of fourteen months. I interviewed approximately 80 women, including my core participants’ friends and family and also other women who could not commit to participate for longer periods because of the time involved. The women who eventually became the core participants in my research were interested in it because it gave them an opportunity to express their views and concerns, and to share their experiences of being middle- class British-Pakistanis in Manchester. Through my observations and conversations, I discovered what was important to them. They had different histories and were from diverse backgrounds. The experiences they shared with me are rich and unique contributions to my study. I used qualitative methods throughout my research, implementing structured and semi-structured interviews at the start, and then moving onto conversations, which I recorded with their permission. I opted for conversations on a one-to-one basis and carried out participant observation in group settings. I conducted further structured interviews with my core participants as fieldwork drew to an end, to recap and to make sure I had covered all the topics that I had intended to. We usually met at cafes, but often the women invited me to their houses. During my time in the field, I invited my participants on numerous occasions to my house to reciprocate their hospitality. As some of the women I worked with were already friends, I often met a pair of friends together as well as meeting them individually. At other times, I met them in larger groups, usually when they invited me for lunch or to a restaurant with their friendship groups. Thus, most of my conversations and interviews took place with two participants at one time. This worked well because I was able to listen into the conversation among the two close friends, sharing their thoughts, ideas and experiences which allowed me a deep insight into their own theories about their lives.

Amber was the only participant in my research who I had already known well before I started the research, as we had been close friends for many years. Amber was a second-generation British-Pakistani like most of the women in my study. She worked as a solicitor but had recently taken a career break to concentrate on her family. Our children attended the same primary school where she introduced me to her friends Syrah and Laila, who she had also met at the school. Syrah was a doctor in general medicine, before taking a career break to raise her family. Syrah was born and raised in Pakistan and moved to Manchester twelve years ago, after getting married to a second-generation British-Pakistani man. Laila worked full time as a barrister. Her background was British Muslim of Indian Guajarati heritage. Although my research focused on British-Pakistanis, I chose to interview Laila because she was married to a second-generation British-Pakistani and most of her friends were British-Pakistanis and therefore she identified with British-Pakistanis. The fact that Laila has close affiliations to British-Pakistanis through marriage and friendships illustrates how ‘British-Pakistani’ is a category that can accommodate people who are close to it.

Farah was another second-generation British-Pakistani I met at the primary school which both of our children attended. Farah worked part-time in human resources and volunteered at South Manchester Mosque 1 one day a week, to help with the mosque ‘Mother and Toddler Group’. She also knew Laila, Syrah and Amber very well because the women attended religious classes and social events at South Manchester Mosque 1. South Manchester Mosque 1 was central to my research since most of my interlocutors attended it as it was either local to their home or to their children’s school. Farah introduced me to the mother and toddler’s group held at the mosque. I accompanied her every week to this group, which was held on Tuesday mornings from 10am till 12pm. I visited the group for a couple of months in search of potential participants. At the mother and toddler’s group Farah introduced me to Malia, a second-generation British-Pakistani. They had met through the mosque and were now very close friends. Malia gave up work as an accountant to raise her family, but envisaged resuming her career once her children were older. At the mother and toddler’s group I also met Roshan. Before her second child was born, she had worked as a financial analyst and depended on her parents for childcare. Roshan felt that such

37 a work-life balance would not be sustainable with two children, and this was the reason why she had decided to take a career break. After meeting Roshan a couple of times, she invited me to her house and introduced me to her friend Nadia, whom she had met at her children’s primary school. Both Roshan and Nadia were second- generation British-Pakistanis. Nadia was happy to engage in my study, she worked part-time as a pharmacist and enjoyed the balance of work and family life.

Early in my fieldwork, I attended an Asian wedding show at the Midland Hotel in Manchester for the sole purpose of finding people for my study. For the first hour of the Asian wedding show, I sat watching a bridal fashion show which was an eclectic mix of models in traditional Indian and Pakistanis dress as well as traditional white wedding dresses. After the fashion show, I looked round the numerous stalls and displays. Florists, bakers, jewellery designers, confectioners, clothes retailers, fashion designers, photographers and makeup artists had set up stalls at this event, all of whom were British-Asians. There I met Ruby, who was promoting her wedding photography, video and bridal makeup business. After browsing through her very impressive portfolio of wedding photos, I explained that I was looking for potential participants for my research. Ruby was very interested in my project and volunteered to participate. Apart from Syrah, Ruby was the only other participant who had been born and raised in Pakistan. Ruby and her husband moved to Britain a year after getting married. They lived in London for a couple of years and then moved to Manchester, where they have been for the last ten years. Both Ruby and Syrah were from an affluent background, and their fathers were doctors in Pakistan. They attended prestigious schools and universities in Pakistan and were accustomed to a privileged lifestyle and international travel growing up. Unlike the second-generation British-Pakistanis in my study, both women were not the first generation to go to university or to have a professional career in their family. Through conversation about their life in Pakistan and their visits to Pakistan, both Ruby and Syrah helped me to understand the place of contemporary Pakistan in the imaginary of second-generation British-Pakistani women.

Hina was an acquaintance I ran into on a day out in Manchester just before I started my fieldwork. We started talking and she was encouraging about my research and was happy to be part of it. Hina had a very demanding lifestyle, being divorced, and working full-time as a radiographer to provide for her three children over whom she had full custody. We managed to meet in the evenings and she also introduced me to her close friend Serena who was also willing to help me with my research. Both Hina and Serena were second-generation British-Pakistani. Serena had worked as a chartered accountant but had given up her job to devote more time to her elderly parents. She now worked part-time in her husband’s property business, offering her the flexibility she needed to care for her parents. Another participant, Gazala, a second-generation British-Pakistani, was introduced to me through her sister Rania whom I had met at university during my masters. Gazala was a food nutritionist and a practitioner in holistic medicine and worked in a shop specialising in herbal remedies and whole foods. Her children were in their twenties and late teens and therefore independent, which allowed her more time to concentrate on her career and also to participate in my fieldwork.

The last person I met was Anayah, the youngest of all my participants. The other women in my research were in their thirties and forties and had children. Anayah was twenty-four years old and had been in Britain for six months. She was a second- generation Pakistani from Norway and only recently moved to Manchester after getting married to a second-generation British-Pakistani. I met her at a ladies dinner dance in Manchester, which I was attending as part of my fieldwork. Anayah was in her final year at university in Norway studying psychology, but because it was her final year her lecturers had allowed her to study long distance.

These women became my core participants through whom I met the others that I interviewed. They introduced me to their friends and family, and I accompanied them to different events and organisations where a lot of my observations took place. These observations gave me an insight into their lives. In this thesis I look at their struggles as they balance their desires to advance in their careers and their duty to family, faith and cultural obligations. Being a native anthropologist, these findings were very enlightening to me. Although I shared a lot in common with my participants, at the

39 same time my interests, experiences, and my religious understanding were in some ways different from theirs. This, I argue, encapsulates the importance of other identities and influences apart from religious and cultural that shape the person we become and the identities and values that we choose to embrace. Where we grow up, the family we belong to, the friends we make, and our life experiences shape us in stronger ways than any prescribed national, ethnic and religious identities.

Structure of thesis

The chapters in this thesis engage with the question of identity and belonging in the context of middle-class second-generation migrants, in a wider framework of Islamophobia. Each chapter illustrates the ways in which women are exploring certain aspects of their identities for the purpose of garnering recognition. My findings illustrate that each relationship and social interaction my participants engaged in was meaningful in the sense that it earned them honour and respect through their personal relationships with family and friends. It is through the performance of the particular roles explored in each chapter that the women try to create their own sense of identity, while also establishing themselves as belonging to their closer social groups and their wider affiliation as British-Pakistani.

The first three chapters focus on what I describe as ‘public domains’- the interaction of my participants with their friends, work colleagues, and neighbours, the parents and teachers at their children’s school, the worshippers at their local mosque and the people in their local community, with the aim of creating a positive image of Muslims and British-Pakistanis. This is what Tsypylma and Gruner-Domic (2011: 400) describes as ‘cosmopolitan sociability’- the collaboration of people from diverse backgrounds promoting ‘social relations of inclusiveness.’ In Chapter 2, I discuss Islamophobia and the media; in Chapter 3, a public context of shared identity in the context of a Ladies’ Night party; and the performance of religious identity among a small group of friends in Chapter 4. The public domain is critical to the women I spoke to for a myriad of reasons. Social interaction and charity work among non-Muslims and non-Pakistanis was an opportunity to shatter negative stereotypes about Muslims and British-

Pakistanis. The women were mindful of the fact that in public, they represented their faith and heritage, and therefore good conduct through manners and politeness was imperative at all times. Thus, the public domain deals with the question of the compatibility of British, Pakistani and Muslim identities and whether there is a tension arising between these categories. In the public domain women were engaging in many pathways, local and transnational, which involved friendships, charitable and religious networks not necessarily bound by ethnicity: what Glick Schiller (2008: 4-5) refers to as ‘non-ethnic forms of interaction’ in migration. Through this, British-Pakistanis were making a statement that they were integrating in a positive way by contributing to the society in which they lived, creating situations, motives and interests that draw people of different communities and backgrounds together. In the final two main chapters before the conclusion, I enter what they considered as the domestic domain. Although these two chapters also delve into the public domain, the emphasis is more on the private realm of family life- the relationships with close relatives such as parents, siblings and in-laws, and how these relationships are pivotal in passing down values and expectations onto the next generation, which they women in my study believed was extremely important. In Chapter 5 I look at the relationship with in-laws, especially how the women improve their value among their in-laws through a gradual increase of trust, which brings about honour and respect. The final main chapter discusses the core relationship between daughters and mothers. It is the relationship with their mothers that gives my interlocutors the emotional and moral strength to face a world of high competition and Islamophobia. It is the unconditional love and support that the women receive from their mothers that instils them with confidence and the drive to face challenges and to prove they are successful migrants worthy of respect and status. It is reassuring for them to know that if other relationships in their lives do not work out or their lives do not go according to plan, they will always have a place to fall back on, a place of solace, unconditional love and support: their parents’ home. Unlike other relationships, with parents they did not have to prove themselves or keep up appearances.

Chapter 2 - Being a British-Pakistani Muslim

The ways in which the women I came across have carved a way of belonging in Britain where the climate has become increasingly more hostile towards Muslims and British- Pakistanis was very interesting to me. Although the women acknowledged the hostility towards their ethnic and religious group, familiarity, friends and family offered them a sense of belonging in terms defined by Yuval Davis (2011: 10). I will look at forms of belonging using Yuval Davis’s (2011) understanding of the term, which relates to inclusion and attachment. Strong family ties, and having British-Pakistanis as their closest friends with whom they shared similar values and experiences, offered my participants a sense of belonging and ‘rootedness’ in Manchester.

Belonging and friendship along lines of ethnicity and religion was not a deliberate act of self-segregation but a consequence of a lack of acceptance, respect, value and recognition by white British people. Despite the fact a number of women forged close friendships outside of their ethnic and religious group with people who were more inclusive. They would point out that the values and traits that amassed status and capital among middle-class British-Pakistanis had no bearing or recognition among white British majority, which impacted their sense of belonging and identity as British. My research looks beyond the characteristics of middle-class status illustrated authors who have used wealth, occupation, education, leisure activities, interests, lifestyle and where people live as a measure of middle-class status in their work on ethnic minorities (Raj 2005: 26; Block and Corona 2014: 34). Ethnicity, cultural and religious values play a pivotal role in defining middle- class identity among British-Pakistani women in my study, and the prejudice they faced seemed to be founded on these differences, and the failure of white British people to recognise similarities. Some women in my study made efforts to forge friendships outside of their ethnic and religious group but sensed a lack of reciprocation. They experienced reserved attitudes from white British mothers at their children’s school who did not respond to a smile, friendly gesture, acknowledgment or a greeting. Therefore, social integration seemed to be a one-way process where British-Pakistanis were making greater efforts to build bonds outside of their ethnic and religious group. In addition to this, some of my

42 informants faced prejudice and negative stereotyping of Muslims and Pakistanis in the workplace, which to them confirmed a lack of acceptance of British-Pakistanis and Muslims.

Chapter 3 – Ladies’ Night

At a ‘women only’ dinner dance, organised by two second-generation British-Pakistani sisters and their British-Pakistani friend, I had the opportunity to observe the women’s multiple performances and celebrations of this hyphenated identity. The influence of wealthy Pakistani nationals who had recently settled in Britain had an impact on the second-generation British-Pakistanis.8 Along with them they had brought an image of Pakistani culture far removed from one that is portrayed in the British media.

For the women I observed at this and similar events, the celebration of their cultural heritage was expressed through food, fashion, music, values and nostalgia.9 It was through a shared cultural background and interests that women established belonging and recognition. Friendships among British-Pakistanis, and participation and interest in Pakistani cultural events earned the women status and capital. Among second- generation British-Pakistanis, interest in their cultural heritage and affiliation with their cultural identity was initiated in the home through parental influence. Friendships with other British-Pakistanis strengthened this identity. It is through these friendships that women celebrate and share a British-Pakistani culture and negotiate values that earn them respect, power and status. The idea of their identity as a British-Pakistani identity was important for the women. It was an identity they could claim for themselves, one which was constructed from their experiences, upbringing, interests and surroundings.10

8 By ‘Pakistani nationals’ I mean wealthy middle-class Pakistanis who have settled in Britian in recent years. 9 Nostalgia associated with visits to Pakistan, memories of gatherings they attended growing up with their parents, linking places, objects, smells, memories with cultural heritage. 10 Upbringing refers to the values passed down by parents.

Chapter 4 – Fashionable piety

The focus on faith seemed to be a growing trend among some of the British-Pakistani Muslims I met before and during my fieldwork. This chapter explores the role of religion. Visual piety through the wearing of headscarves also seemed to be increasingly popular among many Muslims with whom I spoke. As I mentioned above, understanding this new religious leaning in women with whom I had so much in common was one of the motives that led me to embark on this research. Many of the women were becoming increasingly competitive in terms of their faith and, more specifically, of the kind of knowledge they had acquired of Islam outside of the family. They explained to me that increasing their understanding and devotion to Islam was both a way to distinguish themselves from the kind of ‘blind’ ‘cultural’ compliance of low-income Pakistani migrants to Islam, as well as a reaction to the growing Islamophobia that their generation was experiencing.

Chapter 5 – A dutiful daughter-in-law

The role of family, which includes blood relations and affine, has hugely impacted the sense of belonging and esteem for my participants. In particular, the role of and expectations on daughters–in-law was salient among the British-Pakistani women in my study. For that reason, I felt it was necessary to investigate in detail this relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, which is often complex. Although the role of a daughter-in-law is to observe patriarchal customs, the women I spoke to have the agency to exploit their position as a daughter-in-law to their advantage, such as the opportunity to earn capital and status.

Chapter 6 – A caring daughter

My research would not be complete without a chapter devoted to the relationship between mothers and daughters, since throughout my fieldwork my participants spoke a lot about their mothers and the close bond they shared with them. They were

44 indebted to their mothers for their support and encouragement, which helped them excel in their education and career. Consequently, I interviewed the mothers of most of my participants, not only about the close bond they shared with their daughter, but also to find out about their experiences of bringing up children in Britain, a country that was unfamiliar to them.

Chapter 2. The experiences of being a British-Pakistani Muslim

Introduction

In this chapter I discuss Islamophobia as a form of racism especially intensified in the press and media. During my time in the field, the women in my study talked a lot about how they coped with what they saw as a backlash of Islamophobia. I show how the women have come to deal with the effects of this in their everyday life. They engaged in strategies not only to break down barriers between British-Muslims and non- Muslims by bridging ties through their local mosque, but also to deal with Islamophobia. The problem for the participants in my research was that their religious and ethnic identity is one that suffers from the negative perceptions of the general public. Even though most were born and raised in Britain, this antipathy towards Muslims has made them question their sense of belonging.

To my informants, belonging meant an acceptance of their being British-Pakistani Muslim. They did not want to have their guard up at all times, being aware of scathing looks in the streets from passers-by because of the assumption that they are Muslim, due to their skin colour or the way they dress. It was hurtful for the women to know that their children were frequently the targets of Islamophobia at school when other children make cruel jibes about Muslims, undermining them or excluding them due to their faith. Weeks (1990: 88-89) and Parekh (2006: 24) both note that belonging and identity are intertwined. Identities are about belonging to a collectivity, a place, a memory or hopes for the future. Many scholars define belonging as a need to feel close to and be accepted by others (Jaspal and Cinnirella 2013: 159). Yuval Davis states that belonging is an emotional attachment, about ‘feeling at home’, and about the inclusion and exclusion of people, social categories and groups (2011: 10). Similarly, Weeks (1990: 88-89) states that the social relations we have, and our social interaction with others, impacts on our sense of belonging and identity. Belonging, for the women who participated in my research, was about sharing common lived experiences and interests with others, feelings of familiarity and, most importantly, having people whom they felt close to. They established belonging through their

46 family, friends, social networks, class position, and institutions such as the mosque, the workplace and their children’s school.

Many studies have looked into the importance of belonging among ethnic minority groups who have been marginalised (Ryan 2011; Walton and Cohen 2007; and Ysseldyk, Matheson and Anisman 2010). Howard (2006) explains that collective belonging offers support, security and strength is often a response to stigmatisation (Ryan 2011: 1051). Ysseldyk, Matheson and Anisman’s (2010) research on social identity and religious beliefs argues that a commonly-held belief system is essential for health and wellbeing because belonging to a group endorsing common beliefs and values bolsters self-esteem of its members. Walton and Cohen, in their study of social belonging in universities, also support this in their argument that feelings of social connectedness and support are necessary for mental and physical wellbeing, and members of socially stigmatised groups have greater awareness and desire for social belonging (2007: 82).

For the women, being British-Pakistani and Muslim were facets of their many identities, and other positions they identified with (gender, class, professional, or kinship related) equally influenced their sense of belonging in Britain. The women in my study had common interests, a middle-class lifestyle, and shared similar experiences with each other such as having been to university, establishing a career, juggling a work-life balance that identified them with other non-Muslim and non- Pakistani middle-class British people. They also shared similar experiences with other British minorities and had overlapping cultural heritage with British Hindus and Sikhs. This highlighted their ability to harvest from a vast array of social positions to create senses of belong in multiple ways, depending on the identities and interests they chose to assert at any particular moment (Weeks 1990: 88-89). However, being Muslim, British and Pakistani at times also included experiences of prejudice and marginalisation.

Even though most of my participants considered Britain to be their home, common experiences of discrimination and exposure to biased news in the media challenged their sense of ‘Britishness’. The impact of prejudice, and the ways in which the women in my research attempted to overcome this and to establish a sense of belonging, are

47 the overriding themes in this chapter. Distinguishing the types of discrimination faced by many of my participants was not always clear-cut, as it could involve skin colour and other phenotypical features that were identified with race, as well as their cultural background and migration status. In addition to this, they were also subject to hostility due to their religious values and practices. I was interested in finding out how they managed to establish a sense of belonging in Britain, and more specifically in Manchester, and to create a positive self-image amidst growing enmity towards a wide spectrum of people who are lumped together under an essentialising and stereotypical umbrella-category of ‘Muslims’.

The women I worked with felt that Muslims and British Pakistanis had become a stigmatised group after 9/11. Experiences of their everyday life such as at their children’s school, in the workplace, what they heard in the media and read in the newspapers confirmed this (which I discuss further in this chapter). For them, this was evidence showing that Muslims are an undesirable minority group in Britain. Field’s research on Islamophobia in the UK noted that such feelings were not unfounded. Field (2007) examined 104 public opinion polls taken between 1988 and 2006, most of which were taken after 2001. Field concluded from these public opinion polls that 77 per cent of the general British public regarded Muslims as ‘fanatical’, nearly 70 percent believed Islam is ‘a religion stuck in the Middle Ages’, and over 50 per cent viewed Islam as a ‘misogynistic religion’ (Meer and Modood 2009: 349, Field 2007: 453). The public opinion polls also suggested that British–Muslims had a reputation for being slow to integrate into mainstream British society. Further, these opinion polls suggested that many British-Muslims were perceived as harbouring anti-western sentiment and were sympathisers of Islamic extremism (Field 2007: 462). Meer and Modood (2009: 337) in their research on Islamophobia in Britain, also argue that comparative studies by the Pew Global Attitude Project show that one in four British people feel antipathy towards Muslims. These statistics are unsurprising, as certain events in recent times have reinforced a generalised negative public image of Muslims. Marranci (2011: 821) discusses how the Rushdie Affair in 1989, for instance, earned British-Pakistanis and Muslims notoriety and highlighted the incompatibility of ‘Islamic’ values with ‘Western’ values. Field (2007: 448) argues that the Rushdie Affair brought

Islam into the public domain. At the time, Muslims in Bradford engaged in violent protests, burning copies of Salman Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses in the streets, protesting that the novel was blasphemous against the prophet Muhammed. The aftermath of this incident lead to the radicalisation of many young British-Muslims, and to Islamophobic rhetoric in some sections of the British media.

This dichotomy between ‘British’ and ‘Muslim’ was reinforced again after the events of 9/11 and 7/7, pushing British Muslims to the margins by questioning their loyalty to Britain and insinuating that they could not be British and Muslim at the same time (Marranci 2011: 822-823). Muslims and Pakistanis in Britain developed a negative reputation, and the effects of this were exasperating for my participants because of the lack of acknowledgement that the majority of British-Pakistani Muslims are law- abiding citizens who make a positive contribution to society. These were distressing times for them, particularly when most of the women in my study were born and raised in Britain, and with rising tensions they no longer felt welcome or safe in a country they regarded as home. They believed Islam was now being used as a byword for terrorism. They were also tired of reading the tabloid press and comments on social media sites blaming British-Pakistanis for a lack of integration and stereotyping them as living off state benefits. They claimed that this stigmatised image of Muslims and British-Pakistanis was far from the truth. This was one reason why the women were happy to participate in my research. It gave them an opportunity not only to air their grievances, but also in their own words, to share what being British-Pakistani and Muslim means to them.

Just when my participants thought that the reputation of Muslims and British Pakistanis could not sink further, news broke of an unprovoked attack in the name of Islam, on the 22nd May 2013. Two British-Nigerian Muslim converts murdered an off- duty British soldier, Lee Rigby, in Woolwich in broad daylight (Dodd and Halliday 2013). The reaction among the women whom I spoke to soon after this event was one of shock, horror and disgust. They expressed their anger that a cold-blooded murder had been committed in the name of Islam, and deep sadness for the victim and his family over this brutal killing. In the same year, my participants faced another blow with the breaking news that Asian Muslim paedophile gangs in Lancashire and Oxford had been

49 targeting vulnerable underage girls, many of whom lived in children’s homes. In 2013 it was reported that 1,400 girls had been abused by Asian Muslim men in Rotherham (Pearson 2014). More than 350 children had been abused by a gang of men of ‘Pakistani and /or Muslim heritage’ men in Oxford (BBC News 2015). With these separate incidents monopolising the headlines, British-Pakistani Muslims were being depicted as degenerate. The women I spoke to contested that non-Muslims were misguided about Islam, because what they heard in the media or read in the papers often misquoted or misinterpreted extracts from the Quran. They argued that hearsay and misinterpretation of Islam, and the construction of pernicious stereotypes by the media, were engendering enmity towards Muslims in general.

The fact that British Muslims were making headline news reinforced my participants’ beliefs that there was an agenda against British Pakistanis and Muslims in the media. Here the women were not only facing discrimination against Muslims in general, but also prejudice towards British-Pakistanis more specifically. This was not unusual, as categories such as religion and ethnicity are often intertwined. Verkuyten and Martinovic, in their study of social identity among Muslim immigrants in the Netherlands, note that meaning and experiences of ethnicity and religion are intertwined. What it means to be a member of a particular ethnic minority group often overlaps with what it means to be a Muslim in the same way that categories such as class, ethnicity, race and gender do not exist in isolation but rely on one another for meaning (Verkuyten and Martinovic 2012: 1166).

Islamophobia and the role of the media

In this section, I examine the question of Islamophobia and how it has become a prominent discourse in the English media. Halliday notes that during the time of the Crusades, Islam was the enemy of Christianity, but now-a-days it is not Islam itself that is being attacked: Muslims have become the enemy, in particular Muslims who are also immigrants (1999: 898). The Rushdie Affair was a turning point in the contemporary relationship between Muslims and Christians in Europe. The Affair brought attention to the position of Muslims in Europe, creating an image that

Muslims embodied the antithesis of European values, and that their way of life was incompatible with a generic European identity (Rytter, Pedersen and Holm 2014: 2309). Alongside the Rushdie Affair, other international events such as the Balkans war, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as the events of 9/11 and 7/7, have had a profound impact on Muslims in Britain. These events have convinced many British- Pakistanis that Muslims are facing persecution worldwide (Shah and Iqbal 2011: 766). Scholars have discussed the pariah status of Muslim migrants living not just in Britain, but also in Europe and in the US, particularly after 9/11. I argue that that this marginalisation of Muslims exacerbates fear, ignorance and misunderstanding between Muslims and wider society. Malik (2013) also addresses this, in a study of the integration of Muslims in Germany, arguing that a lack of knowledge becomes fertile ground for establishing the ‘Other’, which relies on creating negative stereotypes. According to Rytter’s study of Pakistanis in Denmark, in the aftermath of 9/11 Muslims were no longer simply seen as ‘exotic Others’ but as ‘radical Others’, viewed with antipathy and contempt because they posed a threat to the Danish way of life (2013: 2).

Alongside these authors, I argue that the media have had a significant role in exacerbating suspicion and animosity towards Muslim immigrants. The rhetoric of Islamophobia is contradictory to the values that are conventionally associated with Western liberal democracies, such as freedom of expression, tolerance, pluralism and equality. Authors who have worked with Muslim immigrants in Western countries (Bhimji 2012; Field 2011; Gaffar-Kutcher 2012; Meer and Modood 2009; Meer, Dwyer and Modood 2010; Ryan 2011; Rytter 2013; Zahedi 2011,) argue that it is precisely this relentless bombardment of negative propaganda against Muslims that has created antipathy and fear towards them in the heart and minds of the general public. Islamophobia creates a skewed image, which becomes the popular image of Muslims in society (Afsar, Aiken and Franks 2006: 119-120). Meer and Modood affirm that the media has had a hand in peddling Islamophobia, promoting the dichotomy of ‘us’ and ‘them’ and rendering Muslims as the ‘Other’ (2009: 352). In the war against terror, global media images continue to demonise Muslims and Islam, and the fear of the ‘Other’ is created as a threat to the stability of the nation (Werbner 2005: 6).

Informants in a number of studies on Islamophobia held the media responsible for the negative portrayal of Islam and Muslims, arguing that the interests of the media lie in making sensational headlines that are attention grabbing. They also criticise popular Hollywood movies for demonising Muslims by portraying them as villains (Field 2011; Gaffar-Kutcher 2012; Meer and Modood 2009; Ryan 2011; Zahedi 2011). Countless newspaper articles depict British Muslims as being ‘alien Others’ through stories of honour killings and forced marriages making headline news, thus exacerbating the negative focus on Islam (Bolognani and Mellor 2012: 213).11 Meer, Dwyer and Modood (2010: 100) in their study of nationhood among British Muslims, point out that the media reinforces a view of Muslims as responsible for the lack of integration. According to the Daily Mail, a centre-right conservative tabloid, Muslim difference equates to non-integration.12. One example of such media portrayal was the Daily Mail’s headline (21 June 2006), “Murdered for loving our values”, for the story of a British-Pakistani woman killed for refusing to marry the man her parents had chosen for her (Pearson: 2006). This is a good example of one of the many news articles filled with negative stereotypes and unfounded statements about Pakistanis and Muslims designed to indoctrinate fear, loathing and suspicion into the mind of its readers. Bhimji contests that this headline was deliberately worded to allude to the incompatibility of British and Asian values, instead of reporting it as a crime (2012: 42).13

Consequently, the women I spoke to in my study had reason to believe that prejudice against Pakistanis and Muslims in the West was deep-seated, and events making headline news were merely excuses and opportunities for the media to express a general animosity towards Muslims and Pakistanis. Although the women in my study used the term ‘Islamophobia’ to describe the hostility and negative propaganda against Muslims, they believed it was synonymous with racism. Many scholars on Islamophobia have also pointed this out. Werbner (2005: 6) states that according to Wieviorka (1995) the principles of racism are subordination and exclusion or

11 The study of the reporting of Islamophobic news needs to be undertaken in much more detail, and is not my aim here: I want to demonstrate the propagation of Islamophobia through the media. 12BBC News Channel (2009). The Politics of UK Newspapers. 13 Bhimji (2012) uses the term ‘Asian’ to refer to mainly South Asian Muslim culture, because her study was about the experiences of British South Asian Muslim women.

52 inferiorisation and differentiation. I argue that the principles of racism are evident in the Islamophobic rhetoric seen in the press and media. The examples given above show that the media precisely aims to exclude, undermine and differentiate Muslims through biased reporting and pernicious stereotypes, to inculcate fear and animosity in the minds of its readers and audience, such as in. Werbner (2005: 6) goes on to argue that the message of othering is one of control and domination through physical, economic, cultural and political means. The only difference is that Islamophobia presents a deceptive and indirect form of racism: it comes across as more acceptable, less obvious and threatening compared to straightforward racism. Modood reminds us of the distinction between biological and cultural racism. Biological racism manifests itself as a kind of animosity and unfair treatment of people based on their physical appearance. Cultural racism builds on biological racism, marginalising those who are already subject to biological racism and expecting them to assimilate. Differences in customs, identity, forms of socialisation and upbringing all become basis for discrimination (Modood 1997; 2005). According to Rana, Islam is a religion that is interpreted through cultural practices, arguing that the use of culture is pivotal to race and racism. Consequently, Islamophobia can be characterised as cultural racism, making both kinds of prejudice, Islamophobia and cultural racism, difficult to distinguish and separate (Rana 2007: 149).

Rana (2007: 149) argues that Islamophobia is not only a form of cultural racism, but also a discourse of biological racism. Although this may be contested on the grounds that Muslims are not a single racial group but encompass people of different cultural, religious and national backgrounds who speak different languages. Rana makes the point that anti-Muslim prejudice espouses the same principles and logic as anti- immigration racism (2007: 149). Both are founded on the characteristics of ‘foreignness’ and ‘otherness’, since the mere practice of racial profiling in the ‘war on terror’ confirms racism against Muslims, as such a practice requires the ability to define what a Muslim looks like through appearance, other than cultural markers such as practice, clothing or language. This act of racial profiling racialises religion through claiming the ability to define what Muslims look like from their physical appearance and dress (Rana 2007: 149). Participants in Mythen, Walklate and Khan’s (2009: 738)

53 study on the impact of Islamophobia on young British-Pakistanis found that as a consequence of the actions of a few Muslim militants or terrorists, all Muslims have been maligned with the same reputation. Evidence suggests the prevalence of racial prejudice which still exists, albeit in different guises. For example, research conducted by sociologists and criminologists highlights that black and Asian minorities have been treated as ‘Other’ within the criminal justice system and overwhelmingly subjected to police surveillance (Mythen, Walklate and Khan 2009: 739). The Guardian, a liberal and left-wing broadsheet newspaper reported, in the aftermath of 7/7, that people of Asian appearance were five times more likely to be stopped and searched by the police in comparison with white people, and that stop-and-search of British-Asians had risen by 700% (Dodd: 2005). Crime statistics show that British-Asians are more likely to be victims of serious crime (Mythen, Walklate and Khan 2009: 743). Alongside anti- Muslim propaganda in the media, incidents of hate crimes towards British Muslim were also in the news. The Telegraph, a conservative broadsheet, reported several counter-attacks on Muslims and against mosques in Britain in response to the Woolwich attack (Carter: 2013). The repercussions of the recent events made my participants fear for their own safety and the safety and wellbeing of their loved ones. They recalled stories that they had read in the newspapers of the revenge attacks, such as graffiti being daubed outside a mosque, verbal attacks on Muslims in the street, and internet chatrooms spewing bile against Muslims.

My interlocutors believed that there was an increasing hostility towards British- Pakistanis and other ethnic minority groups who appeared to be Arab or Asian Muslim in the aftermath of a terror incident or attack. Most of the women I spoke to stated that terrorism was not a new phenomenon exclusive to Islam, but was now associated only with Islam. They contested that similar crimes and misdemeanours perpetrated by white Christians did not create public outrage to the same effect. They pointed out that Christianity itself was never maligned during the height of unrest in Northern Ireland and the atrocities committed by the IRA, in the way that Islam was now being vilified for the actions of extremists whose beliefs they did not share. The women also mentioned that there were probably a greater number of white paedophile gangs than Pakistani ones, but this would not be reported with the same headlines. These biases

54 confirmed to my participants that the sentiments of the general public were racist, and these recent incidents were excuses that legitimise enmity towards Muslims and Pakistanis.

Islamophobia itself is not a recent phenomenon, but one which is steeped in history. Prior to the current wave of Islamophobia, Said (1978) coined the term ‘orientalism’ to describe the pervasive negative stereotyping of the East. Therefore, the media can only be blamed for reinforcing an already deeply-seated and historically-entrenched hostility. The main problem here is that different governments have also encouraged such fears, especially with counter-terrorism legislation in the aftermath of 9/11. Scholars such as Mirza, Senthilkumaran and Ja’far (2007) point out that prejudice against Muslims is not entirely a consequence of media stereotyping, but is also institutionalised. Fundamentally, events such as 9/11 exacerbated antipathy towards Muslims which was already present (Mythen, Walklate and Khan 2009: 739). Within Western hegemony, the East is seen as backward and inferior to the West (Afshar 2008: 414). Sandikci and Ger (2010: 18) in their study of veiling, also highlight orientalism and its rhetoric depicting women as being submissive, oppressed, and lacking in agency. Orientalist discourses are still very much present. For example, it is a commonly held belief that British Muslim women are passive and subservient to oppressive and dominant patriarchal family values, as highlighted in Ijaz and Abbas’s (2010: 313) study of working-class South Asian parents’ attitudes towards the education of their daughters. This depiction of Muslim women as passive victims did not ring true with the women in my study- they had agency that enabled them to contest the negative stereotypes of Muslims and to challenge prejudice (as discussed further in the next section). In her study on second generation British South Asian Muslim women, Bhimji (2012: 42) argues that British Asian women are represented as victims of their cultural heritage, which does not acknowledge the empowerment of women, and therefore those with agency are seen as espousing British values. This image could not be further from the truth from my observations of British-Pakistani women in the field.

Everyday living with Islamophobia

Prejudice seemed to be a common occurrence in the lives of the majority of the women I spoke to while doing research. The negative effects of large-scale Islamophobia trickled down to people’s everyday experience in various situations, which were personally destabilising. The women I worked with saw the force of Islamophobia in their children’s schools and at work, making them feel excluded, no matter how hard their efforts to integrate and be part of the work or school community. The prejudice they faced was subtle, but enough to instil in them that they were different, and this difference meant that they did not belong. For instance many women had told me when picking up their children, the English mothers were polite but not inclusive, showing more warmth and friendliness to other English mothers.14 Laila’s first-hand encounter of discrimination at school was English mothers blanking Asian mothers, while being very friendly with other English mothers.15 The primary reason why Syrah moved her children from their previous primary school to the current one was because of the everyday experience of exclusion faced by herself and her children. Syrah recalled an incident from her children’s previous school where she was snubbed several times by an English mother she passed in the corridor every day. The woman looked down every time to avoid making eye contact with Syrah. It was only when Syrah started to mirror the same apathetic response that the woman began to acknowledge her and attempt to make conversation. Syrah explained her attitude towards the woman conveyed the message that “Muslims are not inferior, they have self-respect and dignity and will not tolerate second class treatment”.

The fact that the woman started to recognise Syrah was enough evidence for Syrah that perhaps the woman had come to realise that her behaviour had been discriminatory. What upset Syrah and the other women I worked with was that they attributed this more subtle, indirect and hard-to-pin-down kind of discrimination in

14 My participants referred to White British as ‘English’. 15 For most of the women I spoke to Asian was synonymous with Pakistani and non-Pakistani Muslim South Asians, and at other times also included non-Muslim South Asians. These boundaries were not concrete but were contextual, relational and responsive. At times they ascribed to a single category and at other times multiple. Therefore, the variations to the combination of different categories that the women in my study ascribe to is multiple.

56 perfunctory routine encounters to the fact that it was carried out within the middle- class. It was more often expressed by exclusion from playground activities, not being selected for school sports teams, major parts in school performances, or lack of invitations to English children’s birthday parties. Syrah’s son told her that it was mostly English children who were selected for school sports teams and chosen for the main parts in school plays. Her children felt excluded in the playground from joining in with English children, and therefore played with non-white British children. They were rarely given invitations by English children to birthday parties or play dates. Syrah believed that these apathetic attitudes encountered by her children at school on a daily basis were damaging to their wellbeing by impacting their self-esteem, confidence and sense of belonging. Even though Syrah’s children encountered discrimination from English children at their present school, there were enough children of an ethnic minority background there with whom to form friendships.

Syrah explained that she was certain that British people would always look at Pakistanis with suspicion because they were Muslim, and because skin colour was an obvious marker of difference. The other women I spoke to were also aware that they could never assimilate because of visible markers of differences such as skin colour and dressing made them and their family susceptible to discrimination, and their British identity not being recognised by those who associate Britishness with being white. In her study on British Punjabi Hindus, Raj (2003) also argued that these markers of difference were present in the seemingly simple question ‘where are you from?’ which assumed that people were not really from Britain. More notably, this question draws attention to the assumption that those asking were stating that those being asked can never be ‘English’. In a similar vein, even though her children were born in England, Syrah believed that the discrimination they suffered at school from other children was ultimately telling them they could not be fully English.

Therefore, Syrah would argue that Pakistanis garner more respect and acceptance in their ancestral home. She imagined that many Pakistani migrants would eventually

57 move back to Pakistan if Pakistan became more stable.16 Referring to Pakistan, she said:

“It’s your country, it’s who you are, and it’s your identity. Here you will always be an outsider, you look different, your values and interests are different. Muslims cannot be blamed for not socialising because people don’t want to speak to you because you are different and there is too much of a barrier. Being white you occupy a privileged position of not experiencing prejudice and cannot relate to experiences of prejudice” (Interview, May 2013).

What Syrah expressed was a common view among ethnic minorities who feel marginalised, which a number of scholars have also identified. Jasinkaja-Lahti, Liebkind and Solheim (2009) mention that increased affiliation with national identity is a direct outcome of equal treatment of the minority group, as well as openness and positive attitudes from the majority group (cited in Verkuyten and Martinovic 2012: 1168). Hussain and Bagguley, in their study of citizenship and identity among British Pakistanis in Bradford, note that for many British-Pakistanis, belonging and affiliation to Britain was eclipsed by Islamophobia and experiences of discrimination (2005: 416). Similarly, Karlsen and Nazroo, in their study of Muslims in Britain, Germany and Spain point out that Muslims felt less at home in their country of residence after 9/11 (2005: 693).

At times, prejudice was more blatant and direct. For example, Farah mentioned that at school an English child approached her son and told him that all Muslims were terrorists. She was disturbed by this unprovoked incident and found it heart-breaking that her eleven-year-old son came home from school and asked his parents’ “why do Muslims do bad things?” The way Farah dealt with this was to ensure that her children understood that terror attacks were condemned in Islam. She also wanted to make certain that her children were aware of Islamic values and knowledgeable about their religion, to give them the confidence to deal with further confrontations at school. Farah’s son’s Asian appearance prompted the English boy to assume he was Muslim, and to deploy an accusatory stereotype that associated Farah’s son with terrorism as a

16 Political stability, economic stability and security from terrorist attacks.

58 potential conduct for all Muslims, thus exemplifying the link between racism and Islamophobia. The boy did not know Farah’s son was British-Pakistani specifically. Farah and the other women had told me that at times non-Muslim Indian children were often mistaken for Muslim or British-Pakistani because the two are difficult to distinguish.

My participants explained that at times their children did not want incidents of prejudice to be reported to teachers, particularly at high school where their reputation among their peers was paramount. Reporting to teachers would make matters worse, because the perpetrators would either deny such a thing or worse, say it was a joke and label the victim as a tell-tale. Being called a tell-tale was humiliating, and would result in further bullying and intimidation, which is why parents seldom reported such incidents to the school. Laila argued that teachers could not fully comprehend the experience of ethnic minority children because empathy only existed through experience. She explained that teachers brought their experiences to their role, and if they were white they did not recognise or look out for this form of racial prejudice through bullying. It was even more difficult for teachers to detect if the prejudice was nuanced.

My participants were clearly concerned for the future of their children in this climate of hostility towards Muslims. Hina shared with me her own fears about the future of Muslims in Britain, and also her experience of prejudice at work. She understood that her own children could be discriminated against later in life in the workplace, and that being Muslim may hold them back from moving forward in their careers. Hina believed that she had reason to have these concerns, as she had faced prejudice at work because she was a British-Pakistani Muslim, and was certain such prejudice would only get worse over time. She told me that she was insulted by an inflammatory comment made by a colleague at work, who said that ‘Pakistanis are disgusting’, referring to the Pakistani paedophile gangs reported in the news. To Hina, this statement seemed like a personal attack as she was the only Pakistani and Muslim present. Although she believed the paedophile gang should be held accountable for their crimes, their actions were not a reflection of Pakistanis in general. Hina was aggrieved by this sweeping and provocative statement, to which she retorted, “I know it’s disgusting and it shouldn’t

59 happen but let me assure you it happens in every culture, it’s not just Pakistanis who do it.” Hina was proud of her response and told me, “That shut her up because she was really going in there for the kill about Pakistanis”. Most of the people she worked with were respectful towards Hina, and she was convinced it was because they were warier of her response if they were to make inflammatory remarks about her faith or ethnicity: “they know if we say anything to her we have to be ready for what she will have to say”. Her attitude towards her colleagues encapsulated that she was a force to be reckoned with, and would not take kindly to passing judgements on her faith or cultural heritage. This relentless animosity towards Muslims and British-Pakistanis made Hina wary of her work colleagues and she felt that she was only able to trust a couple of people at work.

Among the women in my study, it was fundamental to stand up to prejudice and discrimination and to convey a message of zero tolerance. Saying that, this was not always possible, particularly when it concerned their children when they encountered prejudice at school. At times, they were limited in what they could do for their children in case intervening made matters worse for their children. Their aim was to shatter negative stereotypes of British-Pakistani and Muslim women by demonstrating that British-Pakistani and Muslim women were assertive, autonomous and intelligent, and deserving of dignity, respect and equality.

On one occasion when I met Nadia and Roshan, Nadia explained that she worked as a pharmacist in a predominantly white area, and was taken aback by how little the people she worked with knew about British Asians, and archaic stereotypes of Asians and Muslims they held. Having little or no interaction with Muslims and Asians affirmed their preconceived ideas, stereotypes, and assumptions about the lack of integration among British-Pakistanis. For example, people at her workplace did not expect Nadia to converse in English with her children, assuming that she would speak to them in her parent’s vernacular language. They were also surprised that she laughed and joked with her husband because of their image of an Asian wife as being ‘quiet and submissive’. Nadia had not encountered such levels of ignorance before, expecting people at her workplace to have some insight and understanding of other cultures as her English friends and neighbours had where she grew up in London. She

60 felt that there was much less exposure to cultural diversity in Manchester in comparison to London, and she believed this was the reason why she experienced prejudice at her work. In Nadia’s experience, exposure to diversity led to greater tolerance, owing to the greater understanding of difference. At university Nadia had many non-Muslim and non-Asian friends, giving her insight into different cultural and religious backgrounds, and was saddened to realise this exposure to diversity which she believed led to tolerance was not the norm.

Nadia spent much of her time at work giving advice to people over the phone regarding medication. They were friendly and attentive over the phone, but face-to- face they insisted on seeing the pharmacist. When Nadia explained that she was the pharmacist, they asked to speak to the ‘other one’, the English pharmacist that Nadia job-shared with. She pointed out that this behaviour was more apparent among the elderly customers. It took her a while to eventually gain their confidence and trust. She assumed that this lack of trust among the older generation stemmed from ignorance, their own experience of first-generation Pakistanis or not knowing British-Pakistanis, and also a result of negative propaganda about Muslims and immigrants in the press and media. Nadia standing her ground and serving the customers who preferred to be seen by the English pharmacist was her way of conveying the message that she was equally worthy and as competent as the ‘other’ pharmacist. Nadia’s example also demonstrated how that prejudice could be overcome through familiarity and positive interaction. As time passed, Nadia’s work colleagues realised that she shared more in common with them than they had thought when she first started work. As the customers got to know Nadia they came to value her opinions and advice. More importantly, the identities (religious and cultural) ascribed to Nadia by work colleagues, and also by some customers, became less significant over time.

Similarly, Roshan also recounted that many of her work colleagues had preconceived ideas about Muslim women at the bank where she did her work placement as an undergraduate. Some were surprised by Roshan’s assertive and vivacious personality, particularly in a male dominated workplace, because they were under the impression that Muslim women wearing the headscarf were oppressed and forbidden to talk to men. They made it known to Roshan that her behaviour did not fit into their

61 stereotype of Muslim women, to which her response was to become more assertive and competitive in the workplace in an attempt to challenge the stereotype her work colleagues had of Muslim women. She wanted to gain recognition for her attributes, not for the identities that they ascribed to her. Roshan recalled a racist incident at work. She took a call from a manager of another branch who ranted to her about Pakistani customers, referring to them as ‘Pakis’ and flagrantly stating that all Pakistanis were fraudulent, obviously not knowing that he was talking to a British- Pakistani. While she was perturbed by this unpleasant experience, she felt reassured when the manager in question was reprimanded and had to face disciplinary action. Roshan considered it was essential to report incidents of racism no matter how small, to stamp out prejudice in the workplace. She believed that racist language should not be tolerated, and those who did not report similar incidences were as culpable as those who used it, because ignoring it made such behaviour acceptable. Although the manager of the other branch unwittingly assumed the person on the other line was a non-Pakistani, it exposed the fact he was racist. Incidents like this confirmed to my participants that racism was entrenched and institutionalised. They claimed that in private the use of racist language was prevalent, whereas publicly racism was expressed through Islamophobia.

Despite the fact that prejudice was a common experience for my participants, they refused to be marginalised because Britain was their home, the place where they belonged, as well as their national identity. Miller (2000) defines national identity as encompassing common history, language and culture (cited in Vasta 2013: 201), which resonated with the definition used by the women in my study. Kyriakides, Virdee and Modood (2009: 301) have shown that mastering the language, accent and mannerisms are ways in which people validate inclusion and belonging to a particular place. Being British, my participants felt that they had the same right to belong as white British people. For most of the women in my study, it was where they were born and raised – a place of familiarity and attachment. Other studies corroborate with what I found in my research, for instance in Hussain and Bagguley’s study of British-Pakistanis in West Yorkshire, informants felt British because they were socialised in what they regarded as dominant British culture from school, from their peers and teachers and in their

62 preferences, such as traditional British food like fish and chips and the way they spoke, speaking English with a local accent (2013: 34). Werbner (2013: 407) also notes that second-generation migrants in Britain have been socialised by school and peers into a British way of life, enabling them to read and understand nuances such as the ability to respond correctly to gestures and facial expressions. Werbner refers to this ability to read and respond appropriately to these expressions as ‘everyday multiculturalism’, at which second-generation migrants are more adept, in comparison to the first generation (2013: 407). Language has given second-generation British-Pakistanis access to British identity and insight into social institutions that their parents lacked (Hussain and Bagguley 2005: 418).

Furthermore, middle-class status offered my participants cultural and social capital, which empowered them to challenge prejudice and discrimination. Cultural competence and socio-economic status enabled the women in my study to become a positive representation of Islam through social interaction with non-Muslims at their children’s school, workplace, and neighbourhood, and by making a positive contribution to society through fundraising. They believed that this way they would create a positive awareness about Islam, to counter-act media propaganda. However, this same nuanced ability to use the language, to assert their social and economic status and claim cultural competence was challenged in other ways, making the whole process of belonging to Britain more complicated. Farah, for instance, made it clear that dating and alcohol were aspects of British culture that were not compatible with Muslim and Pakistani culture, and these differences in values were making it difficult for British Muslim children to fit in and be accepted. Modood (1997: 167) acknowledges that cultural differences can be the basis of unwitting discrimination and it is not surprising that many British Muslims who abstain from alcohol are susceptible to exclusion in everyday social occasions. For example, Muslims face exclusion in sports dominated by drinking culture. Fletcher and Spracklen (2013: 1), in their study of inclusion and exclusion among British-Pakistani Muslim cricketers, point out that alcohol plays a central role in socialisation in British culture and in sport, and is a part of masculine identity. Drinking after a match is a key ritual and an inherent social practice for bonding, socialising and celebrating, and is a symbol of bringing people

63 together (Fletcher and Spracklen 2013: 3). Most of the women in my study also found that abstaining from alcohol held them back from forming close friendships with English people because drinking was integral to British culture.

The question was not only about whether my participants identified as British, but whether they were accepted as being British particularly by white Britons. This chapter reveals that prejudice was part of their everyday experience of being British-Pakistani Muslim. More importantly, the examples given in this chapter demonstrate how Islamophobia is a façade for blatant racism – the intolerance of both racial and cultural difference. The women in my study have responded to this by demonstrating that they have equal rights, and dignity, and cannot be brushed away by a parent or teacher at school, or a colleague or a customer at work. These experiences were the impetus for my participants to create a better understanding of British-Pakistanis and Muslims, which I discuss below.

Breaking down barriers

In this section I discuss the ways in which the women in my study routinely tried to break down barriers in an effort to tackle discrimination. My participants often used the expression ‘breaking down barriers’ to mean conscious attempts to shatter negative stereotypes about Pakistanis and Muslims, and to show non-Pakistanis and non-Muslims that they shared common interests and concerns, and what united them was far greater than what divided them. The women I worked with were, in their own ways, confronting misconceptions about British-Pakistanis and Muslims to overcome prejudice. For Syrah and the others, it was a matter of building bridges through small talk, which would eventually lead to more meaningful conversations that could break down barriers. Syrah realised that both the English women and British-Pakistani women at her children’s school were reticent about making the first move because of the presumption that neither would be forthcoming or interested in the other. In an attempt to become more inclusive of others, Syrah had recently made a greater effort to talk to the English mothers at school, and noticed that they were friendly in return and now smiled as a gesture of acknowledgement when they made eye contact. The

64 unpleasant experience of her children’s previous school did not prevent her from making efforts with English parents at her children’s present school. Much to Syrah’s surprise, some of the English mothers that she thought were ‘snooty’ turned out to be very friendly once she got talking to them. This is what they meant by ‘breaking down barriers’: making the first move to establish some sort of friendly gesture, however small, that could lead to better mutual understanding.

“If you make an effort and smile at them and talk to them they will smile back and talk and be friendly”. “That it is probably ‘us’ [Muslims/ British-Pakistanis] who feel like that [unapproachable] because of the fear of rejection which holds us back and they don’t know how to deal with us” (Interview, May 2013).

It made Syrah realise the need for Muslims to make an extra effort with English people to shatter negative stereotypes of Muslims reinforced by the media. She overcame her fear of rejection by going out of her way at her children’s school to engage in small talk with other women. Initially, Syrah believed the best response was to mirror the attitudes of women who were unfriendly towards her. It later dawned on her that it would be in her best interest to be open to dialogue with non-Muslims to dispel any misconceptions they had about Muslims. She explained,

“You can’t blame non-Muslims for having negative stereotypes about Muslims from what they read in the papers and see in the media. Newspapers run stories daily about Muslims, portraying them in a bad light and a lot of middle- class people read these papers” (Interview, May 2013).

After hearing a comment made by another mother that women in headscarves at school sticking together was ‘an ugly sight’, Syrah was determined to change the perception of Muslim women wearing headscarves by demonstrating that Muslim women were open and friendly, and wished to be part of the school community. Integration had a purpose for Syrah. She believed it was her religious duty to dispel negative stereotypes of Muslim women and Muslims in general. According to Syrah, actions of piety should transcend worship and be at the forefront of consciousness, and influence people’s interaction with others. She emphasised,

“Worship is not just prayers, but how we conduct ourselves, our behaviour with others, how we treat the world, how we bring up or children, out conduct, how we treat others, humans, animals, how we eat” (Interview, May 2013).

Not everyone in my study shared Syrah’s ideas. In Laila’s view, Syrah was a little naïve in her approach to bringing down barriers, and she did not think it was as straightforward as Syrah envisaged. Laila argued that it was natural for people to gravitate towards people of a similar background, as she witnessed other ethnic minority groups doing the same, arguing that this desire for sameness and familiarity should not be underestimated. She made the point that English people who had grown up in a predominantly white neighbourhood were less inclined to forge friendships with British-Pakistanis because the lack of familiarity resulted in the lack of confidence to overcome barriers. Laila had studied and worked in central London for several years before moving to Manchester. She found London to be more cosmopolitan, diverse, and therefore more accepting of ethnic minorities than Manchester and its surrounding areas such as Cheshire. Laila believed that many wealthy white British people lived in desirable areas in Cheshire, and had acquired their wealth through inheritance or business. She also pointed out that most of these people had not moved far from where they grew up in predominantly white areas, and therefore had very little social interaction with non-white ethnic minorities. Goodhart (2004) argues that people have greater loyalty, affiliation and empathy with those with whom they share similar values and histories, alluding to the fact that that most people prefer their own ethnic group (cited in Meer and Modood 2012:8).

Laila stated;

“It is a catch 22 situation. If you get the unfriendly vibes you don’t want to make that effort and try, and you need to have the confidence to make the first move and break this cycle. It’s not just Muslims but the Indians at school are also cliquey and the thing is we are drawn to people that look like us, think like us, share similar values and lifestyle to us and dress like us, so it is a natural human trait. You cannot allocate the blame on all Pakistani parents because there is a clique of white mums who are the Cheshire set. These women don’t want their children to mix with others who are not from the same area or look

different. It is not intentional because they are from an area in Cheshire where there weren’t any Asians, Muslims and they are white adults who have only experienced mixing with other white adults. So they would want the same thing for their children” (Interview, May 2013).

Laila believed that only meaningful relationships would allow people to overcome widespread prejudice, not simply fleeting encounters with the mothers at the school. Socialising with non-Muslim friends gave Laila the opportunity to answer their questions concerning Muslims and Islam. She valued their candidness and curiosity, as it gave her the chance to clarify her faith instead of her friends relying on unreliable sources such as the media.

She went on to say,

“Non-Muslims should feel comfortable about asking Muslims about Islam and not feel they are perhaps going to offend by asking questions. The only way non-Muslims can truly know about Islam is by asking their Muslims friends whatever questions they have. This way myths and misconceptions about Islam are dispelled and people will realise that what is in the media about Islam is not always accurate or fact for that matter” (Interview, May 2013).

Nadia aired similar concerns on one of the many occasions we met during my fieldwork. She felt that, in general, people concentrated on differences instead of similarities, which is why at school it was common to see British-Pakistani mothers talking among themselves and English mothers chatting to one another. This could explain why there was such polarisation at school among groups of Asians and English. Nadia sensed that the English probably harboured resentment because the area in which she lived used to be a white area, and in recent years there had been an influx of many Asians. She espoused a very pragmatic attitude towards prejudice and suggested it stemmed from ignorance and a lack of knowledge, as oppose to hate. She also argued that British-Pakistanis were equally responsible for creating negative racial stereotypes, pointing out the fact that many British-Pakistanis did not make the effort to integrate.

Nadia told me that her sister had moved her children from a school where the pupils were predominantly Asian because she wanted her children to socialise with non-Asian children so they would be open minded to difference, and have the confidence to socialise with people from diverse backgrounds. Growing up in a predominantly white neighbourhood not only gave her and her sister the confidence to interact with English people, it also made them both realise that they shared a lot in common with them. As well as learning about other people’s cultures and religion, Nadia highlighted the importance of finding commonalities critical to breaking down barriers, and creating tolerance and understanding between people of different backgrounds.

“It’s about opening ourselves to other people, making friends with people you would not normally be friends with, so that you can get that insight into other people’s culture and you will definitely learn something from them. On the same note, it is nice to have Asian friends who understand you, you have got to have a good mix of everybody. But then again we have a lot in common with the white folk as well. A lot of the things we do are the same as our next-door neighbours, they have got two boys the same age and they do football lessons like our boys and they play on the street on their bikes, just mix easily together” (Interview, February 2013).

It was fundamental to the women in my study to give their children the opportunity to mix in a culturally diverse environment, to enable a broader understanding of different cultures and religions. They consciously selected primary schools which had a mix of children from diverse cultural and religious backgrounds, and wanted to avoid schools which were predominantly white or Asian. The idea of breaking down barriers in day- to-day routine encounters with non-Muslims, and especially white British non- Muslims, gave the women in my study a sense of agency regarding the widespread problem of Islamophobia. Therefore, small talk with women at their children’s school, participating in social events at school, getting to know their neighbours, and encouraging their children play out with other children in their street, had greater significance beyond the specific encounters. They hoped that such measures would create a better understanding of Muslims and British-Pakistanis in general. Therefore, they would contribute not only to their own sense of wellbeing, while fulfilling their

68 right to belong to Britain, but also to more harmonious inter-ethnic/inter-faith relationships.

The role of the mosque and being British Muslim

Above I discussed the importance of breaking down barriers among my participants, to create a better understanding, familiarity and tolerance between British-Pakistanis, and the non-Muslims and non-Pakistanis they came across in their everyday life. In this section, I will show how South Manchester Mosque 1, the mosque attended by the majority of the women in my study, made continual efforts to overturn the poor image of Islam and Muslims. People were affiliated to the mosque through friendships, worship, use of amenities and participation in religious, social and charitable events. The message that the mosque wanted to publicise was a one of inclusion, integration and camaraderie among its members and the non-Muslim local community. Here I use Putnam’s (2000: 22-24) notion of bridging and bonding ties to understand how people at South Manchester Mosque 1 were engaging in projects of strengthening ties within the congregation (within the faith), and also creating connections with the local community (outside the faith).

Putnam defines social capital as connections among individuals that result in trust and reciprocity, and distinguishes two forms of social capital, which are essential for establishing social networks and increasing the productivity of individuals and groups (2000: 22). These forms of social capital are ‘bridging’ and ‘bonding’. Bonding social capital strengthens and consolidates existing ties, and is important in affirming exclusive identities. Putnam (2000: 23) explains that this type of solidarity within a group creates strong in-group loyalty and provides social and psychological support for less fortunate members of the community. Bridging social capital, on the other hand, is necessary for external contacts and gaining information, allowing people to move into different circles and to embrace more diverse identities (Putnam 2000: 23). There are many possibilities for intersecting identities that connect people to others if we look beyond ethnic and religious groups: such as local, national, gender, class, and those

69 based on interests. As mentioned in the previous chapter, Glick Schiller (2008: 5), in her study of non-ethnic forms of incorporation, highlights the significance of non- ethnic forms of migrant incorporation to give a more accurate depiction of the lives of migrants by shedding light on relationships that go beyond common culture and history. It is imperative to take into consideration that ethnic groups are not bounded, but boundedness is itself created in response to different situations creating the illusion that identities are fixed (Glick Schiller 2008: 4).

The notion of bonding social capital is useful to define the kind of community-building project I witnessed within the mosque, at religious and social events. At the mosque, bonding social capital among British Muslims was about emphasising values, creating learning opportunities and engaging in social activities in line with the Islamic teachings promoted by the mosque. The people affiliated to the mosque – the volunteers, the congregation, the teachers and organisers - were concerned about the threat of young British Muslims trading their religious values for discourses and values that prevailed in the West. Therefore, those affiliated to the mosque made efforts to maintain the interest of young Muslims through organising activities, clubs and social events. The mosque also ran a number of clubs and sports activities for women and children. It held holiday clubs for children, and activity weekends for youth, and also for families. The mosque football club and table tennis club were very popular with teenage boys. It catered to the needs of mothers with infants and young children through its mother and toddler group. Therefore, the purpose of the mosque went beyond worship, and was equally about sharing an Islamic identity and socialising among other Muslims. Some women attended these groups, events and activities organised through the mosque for social reasons. Their motivation to attend religious gatherings was to be among their friends. I found many similarities between the role of the mosque in my study and the role of the temple in Rayaprol’s (1997: 138) study of Indian migrants in Pittsburgh, which she describes as not only a place of worship, but also serving as a centre for social and cultural activities to create a close-knit community.

Farah explained that this community-building approach that the mosque promoted made learning about Islam interesting for both children and adults. The teaching and

70 atmosphere that the mosque encouraged was far removed from the draconian image of Islam that prevailed in the West. The mosque was salient to the needs of many of the women in my research, because they wanted their children to have a strong religious identity and to meet other Muslim children their own age. Through participating in learning and activities with other children, parents wanted their children to have a positive association with Islam and Muslims. This sense of camaraderie and the social aspect of the mosque were more important than ever for the women I worked with. Being a British Muslim was not just about their faith, but also about reclaiming the image of Muslims that had suffered through their portrayal in the media. While they could not change the image of Muslims that was in the media, they hoped to create a positive image of Muslims at a grass-roots level through inter-faith and cross-cultural dialogue, and to make a positive contribution to their neighbourhood, school and work through community projects and charitable events.

Meanwhile, the mosque engaged with Muslim and non-Muslim small businesses, retailers, residents and schools in the local area to support integration through common goals, values and interests, such as fundraising and social events to benefit the local community: all of which are examples of what Putnam (2000: 23) describes as bridging social capital. I attended several fundraising events, such as charity cake sales, organised by the women who were involved with the mosque. They organised several cake sales a year to raise money for the school for those with special needs which was nearby, for cancer research and for the local hospice. In addition to these local causes, they were also involved in fundraising for international humanitarian disasters through cakes sales, fun runs and sporting events. Cake sales usually took place at the mosque or a nearby church hall. Local fundraising events were advertised outside the mosque, in shop windows in the local area and the local newspaper. These events proved to be very popular with the local residents, mainly mothers with young children or elderly couples. The events were well organised, with volunteers allocated to serving teas and coffees and others running the stalls. Volunteers baked tray bakes, cupcakes, and a selection of different types of cookies, sandwich cakes, novelty cakes and different flavoured cheesecakes. Cake sales were also an opportunity for the women to demonstrate their creative and baking skills with their elaborate displays.

Fundraising is not a new activity among British-Pakistanis, and Werbner’s study of Pakistanis living in Manchester describes fund-raising events such as a charity gala for Imran Khan’s cancer hospital in Pakistan (2002: 211), and the Al-Masoom Foundation, a charity organisation established by a first-generation Pakistani husband and wife team to help disaster victims in Pakistan and Bangladesh (Werbner 2002: 203 ).17 However, my study highlights how money was being raised for British charities and local charities, and not exclusively to help fellow Muslims or Pakistanis in need. Bridging social capital was critical to the reputation of British Pakistanis because it was their way of asserting integration in a positive way by contributing to the society in which they lived. Similarly, Hussain and Bagguley also note in their study of British Pakistanis in West Yorkshire that an important aspect of being British was to be a good citizen, to abide the laws of the country and to make a positive contribution to the community in which they lived (2013: 35).

During my fieldwork, I visited the family fun day held at the South Manchester Mosque 1, in September 2013, which was a bi-annual event. The aim of this event was to bring people in the surrounding area together, and also to raise money for a local charity: in recent years the proceeds went to a local school for those with special needs. The mosque grounds were used for stalls and entertainment for the children. There was go-carting, face painting, balloons, bouncy castles and pony trekking. Friendly competitions were also organised at the fun day to encourage parents and children to participate, such as a tug of war, an obstacle race and football matches. There was a large stall selling ‘halal’ sweets, and other stalls sold cupcakes, headscarves, stationery, costume jewellery, Islamic books, and bags. I came across a stall selling Arabic calligraphy, where customers could have their name written in an Arabic calligraphy style on canvas. The barbeque was very popular, and there seemed to be an endless queue for halal hotdogs, burgers, chicken wings, chicken tikka and spicy kebabs. Next to the barbeque there were other food stalls selling Indonesian, Indian and Middle Eastern food, which were also popular.

17 Imran Khan was a former cricket captain who played for Pakistan, and is now a politician in Pakistan.

Amber and Syrah were volunteers at a stall selling refreshments. I also recognised other women from the mosque volunteering on the stalls. Chairs and benches were set out in the mosque grounds where people could sit and enjoy good food and company. Families had attended the fair for many years and I met several people that I recognised from the mosque. The fair was an opportunity for them to catch up with friends and neighbours, and to enjoy the food and festivities. The children ran around entertaining themselves as parents chatted. It was a safe environment as the mosque had been cordoned off and no cars could drive into the carpark, and there was security at the front gate letting people through. There were several groups of teenagers who had come with their friends. Most of the people who were attending were British- Pakistanis, Arabs, with some inter-racial couples and English families. The fair and other social activities open to the public were examples of ‘incorporation’, a term coined by Glick Schiller, Caglar and Guldenbrandsen (2006: 614) to describe a process of establishing networks of social relations that enable a deeper analysis of multiple ties within and across nation states. These are either created by individuals or organised groups that link to an institution. Here, the institution was the mosque, through which members engaged with other British Muslims from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, and also with non-Muslims to strengthen neighbourhood and community ties.

Even though I observed very little inter-ethnic socialising taking place, this event promoted the gathering of people from different cultural and religious backgrounds in a convivial manner. What mattered more to the organisers of this event and to the women in my study was the impression they left on non-Muslims. Events like these were a platform for British Muslims to convey the message to non-Muslims that there was no shame in being a Muslim. This and many other events I observed during my fieldwork helped me to understand the relationship between being Muslim and British, which when I initially embarked on my fieldwork, seemed like conflicting identities. At this event, the women were reaching out to non-Muslims through familiarity, common interests and concerns. It was important to the women in my study and to the organisers of the mosque that they achieved their objective of making a contribution

73 to the local community through fund raising, showing a positive face of Islam, and bringing people in the local area together in a convivial manner.

Conclusion

Most of my participants saw discrimination and prejudice as inherent to their experience of being British-Pakistani Muslims. Being British-Pakistani and Muslim has meant that they had to challenge negative stereotypes about Muslims, and show strength and pride in being British, Pakistani and Muslim against a backdrop of discrimination. The women expected a greater level of tolerance to diversity and difference and were surprised that such bigotry and narrowmindedness still existed among many people they came across at their children’s school and in their workplace. That being said, for most their positive experiences have outweighed their negative ones, making them proud to be British-Pakistani and Muslim. Recognising the benefits of living in Britain and mastering ways to challenge negative stereotypes has enabled British-Pakistani Muslims to carve a place in society.

Thus family, friends, history, experiences, amenities, interests, familiarity and language have all been factors that have contributed to a sense of belonging, and for most, affirmed British as their national identity. The mosque has been central to the lives of most of the women, not only in celebrating a religious identity but also in serving as a place of belonging and acceptance for British Muslims. The mosque played a key role in creating a forum for bridging across ethnic and religious differences with the aim of building an inclusive community through its hospitality and philanthropy in social and charity events. Through visual piety and allegiance to a mosque, the women in my study were representing Islam: a positive and virtuous identity and an example of how British Muslims are supposed to behave. Events at the mosque and other charity functions have been strategies to demonstrate to the general public that British values and Muslim values were synonymous, that being a good Muslim equated to being a good British person.

In the following chapter I discuss the salience of Pakistani identity, notably the ways of being Pakistani for my participants, which is different from that of their parents and also from Pakistanis in Pakistan. It also touches upon the fact that prejudice is not limited to obvious differences. Second-generation British-Pakistanis have also suffered prejudice from Pakistanis who have recently settled in Britain from Pakistan, for their limited knowledge and competence of Pakistani culture and language.18 Alongside their British identity, their sense of being ‘Pakistani’ is also questioned and scrutinised. It is interesting to see how markers of differences, acceptance and prejudice also come from those occupying the same religious and ethnic group.

18 Although there are many different languages and dialects spoken in Pakistan, Urdu is the official language and the language that reflects perceived refinement among Pakistanis in Pakistan.

Chapter 3. The Ladies’ Night

Introduction

In the previous chapter, I discussed the ways in which the women in my study dealt with discrimination and prejudice, and still managed to create a sense of belonging. I looked at how being a middle-class British-Pakistani woman not only involved a notion of belonging, but also a sense of plural belongings that could be incompatible or complementary, depending on the context: class, gender, ethnicity and race were all part of the interplay between identity and belonging. The women who were born in Britain felt they belong there, but in different ways from how they felt their white British acquaintances and neighbours did. Alcohol, for instance, was inherent to the experience of socialisation that many British-Pakistanis and British Muslims could not relate to, which limited their participation in certain contexts. For some British- Pakistani women, the material and cultural elements that went against their own cultural and religious values were enough to make them feel they did not belong with the established white majority of British people; they were still British, but British in a particular way. The same goes for being Pakistani: they are not Pakistani in the same way as their parents or the Pakistani nationals they meet in Manchester are (Pakistanis who have settled in Britain from Pakistan in recent years. These Pakistanis are highly skilled wealthy migrants). In this chapter, I illustrate how the women in my study practiced being British-Pakistani in a public event exclusively organised for women- the Ladies’ Night. Among the women I observed at this event, being British-Pakistani was manifested through their intense competitiveness, the way they looked and dressed, competing over their children’s achievements, and appropriating elements of high-end Pakistani culture from Pakistan such as fashion, style and speech.

The majority of the women in my research felt a strong sense of being British- Pakistani, which they celebrated through a network of friends on social occasions. They participate in Asian music and dance, dress in Pakistani clothing, consume Pakistani cuisine with friends, and attend events where they meet other British- Pakistanis. In doing this, they are participating in ‘diaspora aesthetics’, a term coined by Werbner and Fumanti (2013) to describe the creation of an encapsulated world of

76 alternative culture. Such social events are pivotal for maintaining collective identities through shared interests which, in this instance, are invoked through popular culture, humour, festivals, music, clothes and food, which Werbner (1997) describes as the ‘aesthetic community’, defined by cultural competence, passion and creativity. What most second-generation British-Pakistanis experience is a British life with particular values, expectations and identities, and it is these markers of difference that are celebrated and promoted, along with being British, by the British-Pakistanis the women associate with. This very strong partaking of a British-Pakistani identity gives the women a sense of belonging that is important to them.

Even though most of the women I worked with had a close network of British-Pakistani friends, this was not necessarily the case for all the British-Pakistanis I came across in the field. Several women preferred to meet a handful of British-Pakistani friends on an individual basis, and others told me that they mainly socialised with non-Pakistanis and non-Muslims. For them, British-Pakistani identity was manifested through family, upbringing and being situated in transnational social fields. Unlike women belonging to a British-Pakistani social group, these women did not feel the need to shape their values, ideas or identity to fit in with others. Many chose to select the Pakistani cultural values that suited them. Most of my participants had a sibling or close relatives whose spouse was born and raised in Pakistan. These relatives became a source of cultural references and insight, particularly at family functions, and had a significant influence over the cultural identity of their relatives in Britain. At family gatherings, the performance of Pakistani identity was crucial and was expressed through food, clothes, vernacular language, religious rituals, and conversation and through the expectation of certain values. The social pressure to conform in order to belong is a reason why some people prefer not to socialise in this way, as described in Roggeveen and van Meeteren’s (2013: 1080) study of social networks among Brazilian immigrants in Amsterdam.

The event I explore in this chapter was the Ladies’ Night - a ‘women only’ dinner dance I attended with Farah and her friends in November 2013. This event took place at the Lombard Suite in North Manchester, a purpose-built venue, popular among British- Pakistanis for hosting weddings, pre-wedding parties, and other social events. This

77 event is the focal point of this chapter because it offers an insight into the ways in which the women in my study performed and defined their British-Pakistani identity within a British-Pakistani context. It also demonstrates how, through the women’s interactions during the event, they created a sense of belonging while working on their social capital. But before I describe the dinner in ethnographic detail, it is important to discuss the idea of British-Pakistani identity a little further.

The importance of British-Pakistani identity

For most of the women I met, this particular way of being Pakistani entailed a series of shared beliefs, behaviours, cultural practices and values that were deployed in different ways in different contexts. What women understood as their cultural heritage was extremely important. For instance, on one occasion when I met up with Malia and Farah, Malia expressed her concerns to me about the threat of her children losing their cultural identity. Both Malia and Farah were conscious of passing on Pakistani traditions and culture to their children. Farah said that ethnic identity could not be avoided because people still asked the question, ‘where are you from originally?’ The women in my study were used to strangers asking them this. ‘Originally’ hit home the fact that they were not seen as fully British by whoever had asked the question. The importance that many of my participants placed on passing their Pakistani heritage and certain cultural values onto their children is unsurprising, as this had a political motivation. Even though they were aware that Pakistani traditions and Muslim values as they know them would probably change over time and perhaps dissipate, they believed it was crucial to teach children the value of their culture so that they could also be proud of who they were ‘originally’. Instead of feeling embarrassed about their cultural background, the women wanted their children to answer this question in a proud and assertive way, which showed that what they had to offer was equal and even superior to white British culture.

From Malia and Farah’s conversations, what they understood as cultural heritage was critical because this connected their generation with those of their parents, and also their children. They wanted their children to embrace their cultural heritage through

78 foods, arts (dance, songs, and film), clothing, religion, memories, nostalgia, moral values, social relationships, and modes of behaviour. Saying that, none of these elements of cultural tradition were fixed or permanent, and at public events one could observe the negotiations, disputes and competitions as various people attempted to gain cultural and symbolic capital that would help them amass respect, autonomy, and to be proud of who they were.

Malia’s account was revealing in this sense:

“…we can’t be white, we can integrate but we will still stand out, there will always be differences. We are neither British nor Pakistani, and the label ‘British-Pakistani’ gives us something we can identify with. We all get together and call ourselves British-Pakistanis. Our culture comes from our parents and when we get together with friends we share and exchange that culture” (Interview, September 2013).

This statement highlights the importance of belonging through shared experiences and upbringing, but also implies that skin colour is a marker of difference which makes it difficult for British-Pakistanis to assimilate. Garner makes a similar argument:

“Whiteness enables the interpretation of bodies in a particular place, and their association with cultural forms that are deemed ‘not like ours’. In this reductive equation, ‘us’ very often defaults to white.” (Garner 2012: 451).

The women in my study perceived belonging and acceptance at times through sameness, which in this case meant similar values, experiences and expectations manifested through their cultural and religious heritage. Leonard, Mehra and Katerberg’s (2008: 576) theory of ‘distinctiveness’ postulates that people of minority status prefer to select friends from their own specific group, giving as an example how an African American would think in terms of race when they were among a group of whites, but not when they were among other African Americans. I argue that the importance placed on shared similarities is also common among other ethnic minority groups. This argument is also made in Maira’s (2002: 108) study of second-generation Indian-Americans at university, in which many of the research participants chose to

79 forge close friendships with Indian-Americans because of shared common values and background, and consolidated bonds based on their distinctive Indian identity. Similarly, in her study of British-Indian female university students in the South East of England, Bhopal (2011: 525) argues that belonging to the same ethnic group generates greater empathy and understanding of each other’s cultural experiences of being an ethnic minority in Britain. It is for these reasons that many women in my study chose close friendships with other British-Pakistanis and British Muslims. Furthermore, an identity imposed on them by others based on their physical and cultural markers of differences, made my participants realise that they could never assimilate with white British people. Instead they chose to embrace these differences imposed on them and respond to prejudice by instilling cultural pride in their children.

Hina, for example, made conscious efforts to draw her children into Pakistani culture by attending events such as weddings, funerals, social gatherings and religious gatherings, and constantly reiterated to her children to take pride in their Pakistani and Muslim heritage. She made sure that her children accompanied her to Pakistani social gatherings so that they would be accustomed to meeting and interacting with other British-Pakistanis, and would be exposed to cultural values through social interaction. Hina stressed the importance of embracing and being proud of one’s ethnic identity,

“We are who we are and we can’t run away from that. We are all Pakistani Muslim and we have to be proud of it and should not be ashamed of it. We are not the terrorists, we are not slutting around. We are decent girls from decent families bringing up our children the best we can and working really hard. We should be proud of that, and not try and run away from the fact we are Pakistani and make our kids more ‘gorafied’, that’s not right” (Interview, December 2012).19

Here Hina was distinguishing British-Pakistanis from white British people, using collective identities to create binaries that establish differences. In her statement, Hina

19 The term ‘gora’ is a colloquial word for ‘white person’ (Raj 2003: 212) which could also be construed as a pejorative term. ‘Gorafied’ was coined by British Asians, a derogatory label given to Asians who are Westernised and act like a white person.

80 was engendering social representation, which Moscovici (1973) defines as “systems of values, ideas and practices” enabling group members to rationalise their social world and make sense of their relationships with other groups (cited in Andreouli and Howarth 2012: 363). Pakistani identity was a positive attribute that allowed them to be driven, respectful and disciplined, and it was important to them to pass these attributes on to their children. Thus, many of the women in my study created this illusion of a binary: Pakistani culture against Western culture. Here they were promoting collective identities, for the purpose of inclusion and belonging. Again, these markers of difference and distinction also worked as a reaction to the relentless hostility towards British-Pakistanis that they both witnessed and experienced. Meanwhile, they were also expressing pride in their differences and claiming superiority of their own cultural and religious beliefs which were looked down upon by others, allowing them to feel empowered.

Farah pointed out the limitations of friendships with English people, due to different cultural expectations and norms. For example, the respect for family, parents and elders that is valued, passed down through the generations and inherent to Islamic tradition and Pakistani identity (Rytter 2010b: 603), which Farah perceives as lacking in the West.

Farah explained,

“My English friends don’t understand why I live with my in-laws, they don’t understand our cultural obligations. I remember a mum from school telling me that she told her husband that she didn’t like his mother because she was annoying. I was shocked! We would never dream of saying such a thing! They can answer their in-laws back if they have a disagreement, which is unheard of in our culture. I feel at times I have very little in common with my English friends and they have a limited insight into my life” (Interview, September 2013).

In reality, the women in my study were originally from different class backgrounds, therefore sameness with other British–Pakistanis was fluid and contextual, and contained multiple possibilities. Their parents had passed on their own experiences of

Pakistan, varying from a rural upbringing or a modest urban upbringing to those whose parents had had a privileged life growing up and gaining an education in metropolitan cities in Pakistan before moving to Britain. This Pakistani identity was manifested by their parents through passing on their own love, loyalty, experiences and memories of Pakistan to their children. Religious and cultural background was not the same for everyone, nor was it static. Parents were also passing down values, experiences, memories and expectations, and these were not the same in each British-Pakistani family, but this illusion of uniformity and sameness created a united front against difference, and also established a dialogue for promoting a particular British-Pakistani identity.

This dinner dance was an opportunity for me to observe how these issues were put into practice. British-Pakistani identity was manifested through conviviality, which gave meaning and value to this identity. Essentially, social gatherings were arenas where interests, values, aspirations, experiences and ideals collaborated to create a British- Pakistani identity, which was evolving and in flux.

Ladies' Night

I was informed about this ‘women only’ dinner and dance event by Farah. She insisted that I go, as it would be a good experience for me, not only for my fieldwork but also as an opportunity to meet other British-Pakistanis. She suggested that I book the tickets early to avoid disappointment since it was a popular event and sold out quickly. I went to the dance with Farah, Arifa, her close friend from college, and Naz, a friend she made through the mosque. I attended this event twice during my fieldwork. The format, themes, style and conversations that took place at the event were very similar to most other events that I visited during my fieldwork, which at times made it all the more challenging to distinguish one event from another.

Ladies’ Night was an event organised by two second-generation British-Pakistani sisters, Amina and Diba. Their parents, who had emigrated from Pakistan in the 1960s, were a part of the first generation to become socially mobile after moving to Britain.

Amina and Diba’s mother was a successful businesswoman who had established a business empire while raising her children, and their brother was a property tycoon who has featured in the Sunday Times’ Rich List. Amina and Diba’s family were an example of first-generation Pakistanis who prospered in Britain by achieving a better material position through success in business, therefore gaining a prominent social status among British-Pakistanis in Manchester. The wealth that they had amassed in Britain through their success in business elevated them to elite status. This status enabled Amina and Diba’s family to gain access to a privileged lifestyle of socialising with notable figures in the world of show business and politics in Britain, Pakistan and India. I was told that among the guests at Amina and Diba’s younger sister’s wedding were several Bollywood stars and Pakistani politicians. Many Pakistanis who moved to Britain in the 1950s and 60s seized new opportunities that may not have been available to they had stayed in Pakistan, and became socially mobile.

I met the sisters twice during my fieldwork, on both occasions at the Ladies’ Night event. Their names were mentioned in conversation on several occasions by different people during my fieldwork. I came to realise that Amina and Diba were well connected among many British-Pakistanis in Manchester, and were friends and acquaintances of many of my participants. The two sisters collaborated with their friend Bina, whose brother owned the venue where the event took place. Bina’s father and uncle were also very well-known among the first-generation Pakistanis who moved to Manchester in the late 1950s. They had a large share in the garment wholesale business in Manchester. Bina’s father and uncle built up a business portfolio very soon after moving to Manchester from Pakistan, and earned a reputation as one of the established Pakistani families, expanding their social networks with other Pakistanis in Manchester. Unlike other Pakistanis who moved to Northern towns to join the unskilled and low paid labour force of cloth manufacturing, many Pakistanis who settled in Manchester exploited the garment manufacturing business, following the footsteps of migrants who settled in Manchester before them (Werbner 1990: 50). The garment manufacturing industry has traditionally been popular and attractive among migrant settlers because of the relatively little expertise and capital required to start a business (Werbner 1990: 54).

The sisters came from an impressive entrepreneurial background, and exploited this niche in the market by organising a ‘ladies only’ dinner dance. Amina and Diba first started the Ladies’ Night event 10 years ago, and originally it was held twice a year. Amina explained that this event had been very popular from the start and because of the demand she was contemplating making it a quarterly event. The Nawaab restaurant in Levenshulme and the Lombard Suite in North Manchester were the main banqueting suites that catered to the British-Pakistani population in Manchester. During my fieldwork experience, I discovered that these were the only venues hired by British-Pakistanis for conferences, social events and charity dinners. The same venues were also popular for weddings among British-Pakistanis. Each time I visited the Lombard Suite, the room was barely recognisable as the ambience, lighting, seating and decor was tailored every time to suit the occasion. Like the Nawaab, the Lombard Suite was renowned for the quality, value for money, presentation and variety of dishes it served. Therefore, this collaboration of women from impressive entrepreneurial backgrounds to create and promote this event proved to be successful. The tickets for the event were £20 each, which included entertainment and a buffet. The event was advertised through social media, instant messaging and word of mouth. Tickets could be purchased at the door, or many women pre-booked through the people advertising the event. I was told by Farah to purchase my ticket from Fatima, an event’s organiser and friend of Amina and Diba, who was promoting this event.

As I entered the venue with Farah and her friends Naz and Arifa, we passed a chocolate fountain where guests could purchase fruit kebabs or marshmallows dipped in melted chocolate for £2. This event also supported small businesses in Manchester. At the entrance of the suite there were several stalls laid out. I had not been aware that there were going to be stalls at this event. There were stalls selling organic beauty products, another selling soaps and scented candles. There were also stalls selling ‘halal sweets’, cupcakes and macarons, artisan chocolates and homemade confectionary. A few stalls sold scarves and costume jewellery. I also saw stalls selling Pakistani clothes that British-Pakistani women had imported from Pakistan. The stalls seemed to be very busy. As the women arrived, they claimed the tables they wanted

84 to sit at with their friends by leaving their belongings such as coats and shawls on the back of the chairs, before heading to the stalls.

The stalls added to the experience of the evening. Instead of remaining seated, browsing through the stalls created an opportunity to mingle with the other guests and to meet new people. It was also a good way of keeping guests occupied while waiting for the entertainment to start. I accompanied Farah and Naz to the stalls selling Pakistani clothes. There were many women gathered around the stalls selling these garments. The prices ranged from £40-£100 and all the stalls selling Pakistani clothes had a similar prices and similar designs. The women held the outfits against themselves to get an idea of the sizes. Others tried on the outfits behind the partitioning screens at the entrance of the suite where they could not be seen. The Pakistani clothes on sale were casual wear and semi-formal. Farah said that the clothes were perfect either to wear at home or when visiting friends and family for dinner, but not elaborate or formal enough to wear to special occasions such as this and similar events, or for weddings or Eid. Farah noted that Pakistani fashion was popular among British-Pakistani women because it was influenced by fashion in the West. Popular styles included silk shirt dresses in different lengths to be worn with leggings, or long kimono style pieces to wear over plain chemises. Many of the dresses had motifs or ornate designs on the back, which Farah said were copies of those of original Pakistani designers but sold at a fraction of the price.

Farah pointed out that most British-Pakistanis she knew were familiar with Pakistani haute couture through relatives in Pakistan, Pakistani nationals in Britain, and the fact that importing designer clothes from Pakistan was a lucrative business for many British-Pakistanis. The women working on the stalls told me that they ran their clothes business from home, and they also sold Pakistani designer labels. The stalls were cash only, which is why the items were affordably priced. I could see a lot of women taking their cash out to make purchases from the stalls. Farah and Naz bought a couple of outfits each, as they said that they were reasonably priced. I did not have much cash with me, but both Farah and Naz offered to lend me money so I could also buy an outfit if I chose to.

White British women ran the majority of the stalls, although the stalls selling Pakistani clothes and accessories were run by British-Pakistani women. This event was also an opportunity for people to promote their small businesses. Business cards were displayed on every stall detailing the name, contact and other information of the business. The stalls were eye catching, which drew in customers. The merchandise was presented in pretty gift boxes lined with tissue paper, and the confectionary could also be purchased gift wrapped in cellophane and tied with ornate bows and ribbons. The women took their time at each stall, leisurely looking at and touching the merchandise, smelling the candles, bath bombs and soaps. All the products seemed popular and were selling rapidly. Naz said that many of her purchases were gifts for friends and family, for birthdays or to take when invited to a dinner party. Many women bought cupcakes and confectionary to take home.

Round tables of ten were arranged around the dance floor, with approximately twenty tables in total. There was a lot of attention to detail- the table settings, the flower arrangements and the candles on the tables added to the ambience. The stage and the dancefloor were the focal points. The stage was decorated with shimmering gold drapes. The lighting in the room was dimmed and multi-coloured, and glittering disco lights were reflected from the stage onto the dancefloor. There was also a DJ on the stage running the decks. The music was an eclectic mix of Bollywood, bhangra, hip hop and British pop.

Some guests were seated chatting among friends and acquaintances. The women attending were mainly in their twenties, thirties and forties. I saw a group of girls in their late teens dressed in cocktail dresses: Amina’s daughter and her friends from school that she had invited to the event. Amina had specified ‘no children’ at the event because the event was an opportunity for women to relax and to socialise among friends without having to run around young children. However, the invitation was open to teenage girls accompanied by an adult, albeit I did not notice many teenagers.

These parties were significant to the women I spoke to, and a great deal of effort went into a ‘night out’. Social events were an opportunity to demonstrate one’s social and cultural capital. I had asked my participants on several occasions why they invested in

86 their appearance so much when going out. I got a similar answer from all my participants: that a party was an opportunity to get dressed up and look glamorous to impress their friends. The women stated that there was competition and pressure to dress up for social events, as everyone took note of what others were wearing and how they looked. At these parties, I often heard women exchanging complements with one another on their makeup, hair, jewellery, shoes and outfits.

All of the women were dressed up in party wear, and looked as though they had had their hair and makeup done professionally for this occasion. Most of the women sported ‘big hair’- backcombed and curled, and wore heavy eye makeup and false lashes. The look was very dramatic. Some were in the latest styles of Pakistani dress, while others wore Western clothes such as cocktail dresses, body con dresses, short sequined skirts, wet look leggings and chiffon blouses, sequined blazers and leather trousers. They accessorised their outfits with sparkling costume jewellery, and coordinating high heels and handbags. A few women attending the event wore headscarves.

The first hour of the event was an opportunity for guests to arrive, socialise with friends, and browse through the stalls. Although the DJ was playing music, the dancefloor was empty for the first hour. I spoke to Amina and Bina about the event. Amina drew attention to the fact that, for British-Pakistani women from conservative backgrounds, ‘women only’ functions were opportunities for them to express themselves, to dress up and enjoy dancing with their friends. Amina suggested that many British-Pakistani women avoided pubs and clubs because drinking and dancing in mixed company were cultural taboos, and pointed out that in recent years more women were becoming increasingly devout in their faith and, although they had gone clubbing in the past, they had now turned their back on that lifestyle. In the absence of male onlookers, women seized the opportunity to dress up and even to wear outfits that were more revealing than they would otherwise wear in public.

While the three women organising this event were not themselves concerned about conservative values, they wanted to tailor the events to the needs of the majority. The demand for this event and its popularity gave the women hosting this event

87 recognition and prominence among women who were interested in the event. Bina said that she spent a lot of time and effort in selecting the items for the buffet. She took charge of the food and wanted it to be of the highest quality. She was happy to receive any feedback about the food or venue from me or any of the other guests. The reputation of the venue was important to Bina, because it was a family business that she managed and hired out for conferences, weddings and other occasions. The main aim for Amina, Diba and Bina was that it would be a memorable event for the guests.

After an hour, Amina came on stage to welcome the guests. When all the women had sat down at the tables, Amina thanked the guests for supporting the event, describing the event as a celebration of South Asian heritage among friends. Amina then introduced a dance troupe to perform choreographed routines to popular Bollywood songs on the dance floor. They were dressed in jewel-coloured lenghas and matching cropped tops, and wore Indian bangles and sparkling bindis.20 The dance troupe were all sisters of mixed black and white heritage.21 Once the music started and they began dancing, the audience were euphoric. The dancers encouraged the audience to get up and dance too. The dance floor quickly filled up- the guests did not need much encouragement. I spoke to the dancers after their performance. They told me that their interest in Bollywood music was the inspiration behind this group they had established. They were managed by their mother and brother. The sisters performed at many Asian functions, usually at pre-wedding parties, graduation parties, anniversaries and birthday parties. This event was advertised as a celebration of British-Pakistani culture, and was ‘women only’ to cater for conservative Muslims. It was a misleading assumption of mine to think that this event was ‘exclusively British- Pakistani’ given that the entertainers, stalls, and some of the guests were not Pakistani.

Some British-Pakistani women had brought along their non-Asian friends to this event.22 In all, there must have been approximately ten non-Asian women: mostly

20 A lengha is a full long skirt worn by South Asian women. A bindi is an ornamental mark worn on the forehead by many Indian women (Maira 2002: 8). 21 ‘Black’ here refers to someone of Afro-Caribbean heritage. 22 I use the term ‘non-Asian’ to include both white-British and people of other backgrounds.

88 white, a couple of black women and one Chinese. Among the guests there were several Hindu women. I knew this because they wore bindis, which is not the custom among Pakistanis. I was already familiar with Pakistani fashion because of my background, and Indian fashion through my friendships with British Hindus. This enabled me to make the distinction between Pakistani and Indian styles. From what I was told by some of the women in my study, and from what I knew from my own experiences as a British-Pakistani, some of the current trends in Pakistani fashion did not make their way into India. Indian-style clothes came in bolder colours, and the saris and other outfits were showed more skin in comparison to most Pakistani dress. Pakistani fashion tended to be slightly more conservative, to cater to the demands and tastes of more conservative Muslim customers. Also, Pakistani fashion focused greatly on the fabrics, such as the textures and drape.

After thirty minutes of dancing, Amina returned to the stage to announce that the guests should make their way to the buffet, and that the disco would resume after the buffet. The DJ continued playing music on the decks during the meal. I sat with Farah, her sister Zara, Farah and Zara’s friends from college Arifa and Nighat, Farah’s friend Naz, and also Farah’s acquaintances, three women who had moved to Manchester from Pakistan. We decided to sit at the table and wait for the queue to go down before we headed to the buffet table at the far end of the suite. I noticed the stall holders packing up to leave. The stalls had been very popular and most of the goods had sold out.

I observed Farah and her friends from Pakistan, as they conversed in a mix of English and Urdu. Farah seemed very self-aware and reticent in the presence of these women. Her friend Arifa was less aware that she was sitting among middle-class women from Pakistan, who saw themselves as more refined than their second-generation British- Pakistani counterparts. Arifa laughed loudly and told bawdy jokes and made innuendos throughout the evening, whereas the other women at the table were more restrained. Arifa spoke in Punjabi to emphasise words and sentences. My participants had pointed out on several occasions that, among Pakistanis, Punjabi was considered to be a less sophisticated vernacular, and it was more cultured to speak Urdu in public. This was one of many faux pas Arifa unwittingly made throughout the evening.

Pakistani culture as a source of class distinction and cultural capital

Before returning to the description of the Ladies’ Night in this section, it is necessary to address the role of Pakistani nationals and what is understood as contemporary Pakistani culture, to the sense of belonging to Pakistan that the women in my research were creating anew. On several occasions, such as this social event, I was able to observe how these links were forged, embraced and used as a form of gaining further cultural and social capital within the British-Pakistani group. But also, and most importantly, it was a way of creating a sense of worth and pride in their Pakistani connections, which went against the adverse reactions they faced with the wave of Islamophobia they experienced in their relationships with the wider society. Middle- and upper-class Pakistani immigrants, as well as the women’s own visits to a modern and richer Pakistan, offered them an alternative to the negativity they encountered in their homes and places of work.

For Ruby, who was born and raised in Pakistan, having close family in Pakistan meant she could offer her children first-hand experience of her natal home. She proudly claimed that her three daughters had a positive association with Pakistan, because they had stayed with family in affluent suburbs of Lahore, and she made sure that she took her children to the high-end, fashionable districts in Lahore. Ruby told me that the fine dining restaurants and trendy cafes she took her children to in Lahore and the designer fashion houses, hotels and beauty spas they visited were no less glamorous than the ones she visited in New York or London. For Ruby, and for many of my other participants, it was essential to take their children on trips to Pakistan for their children to experience the privileged lifestyle there, and to instil interest and pride in their children about their cultural heritage. Ruby and the other women in my study took their children to the wealthy districts in metropolitan cities in Pakistan to demonstrate that Pakistan was equally as modern, glamorous and exciting as their holiday destinations in the West.

Other Pakistani nationals I spoke to were fiercely patriotic about their homeland, but at the same time were trying to make Britain their home. Their transition to life in Britain was a seamless one, as they did not experience problems settling down

90 because most were professionals and successful entrepreneurs who began earning high salaries as soon as they settled in Britain. Meanwhile, as Pakistani nationals were reaping the benefits of financial security in Britain, many British-Pakistanis sought out similar opportunities in Pakistan. British-Pakistanis who had earned financial success in Britain through business ventures or their careers were able to make investments in Pakistan that earned them status and social capital among the elites in Pakistan. These British-Pakistanis were able to make connections, socially and professionally, with wealthy Pakistani nationals in both Pakistan and Britain. On one occasion, Roshan had mentioned that she had come across many newly wealthy British-Pakistanis who showed off their new status by declaring out loud how many properties they had. According to Roshan, British-Pakistanis with their recently acquired socio-economic status invested in expensive properties both at home and in Pakistan. Investing in property in Pakistan meant that they were elevating their socio-economic status not only in Britain but also in Pakistan.

Amber had told me that although her parents were from a working-class background in Pakistan, her father and relatives in Britain achieved prosperity through successful business ventures. This not only enabled them to improve the socio-economic status of relatives in Pakistan via remittances, but also permitted them to purchase properties in exclusive suburbs of major cities in Pakistan. Amber’s parents were accustomed to a privileged lifestyle in Pakistan. They spent several months a year in Karachi where they had bought a house and spent their time relaxing, socialising and dining out at exclusive restaurants. Amber explained that it was common among British-Pakistanis who had achieved financial success in Britain to invest in luxury properties in Pakistan and to spend several months a year there.

Several of my participants whose parents originated from modest backgrounds had relatives in Pakistan who were also enjoying a new social status acquired through remittances and though their own children’s socio-economic achievements. Nadia had mentioned that she and her sister were the first to go to university among her generation in her family. Growing up, when she visited family in Pakistan, she noted stark cultural differences. Her relatives in Pakistan were from a modest background and had very little knowledge of life outside Pakistan. On her recent visit to Pakistan,

91 she noticed the dramatic changes that had occurred in the lifestyle and attitudes of her relatives. Many of her relatives had become wealthy, allowing them to move from small towns and villages into the major cities in Pakistan. Most of Nadia’s cousins in Pakistan had professional careers, and higher education had become the norm and expectation for the younger generation. Her uncles and aunts who once lived modestly now prospered through their children’s achievements, which elevated their own socio- economic status. Nadia’s cousins were familiar with popular culture in the West through the media, and they saw themselves as cosmopolitan, accustomed to travelling abroad and being connected to friends and family worldwide through social media.

Although Boudieu’s (1984) work on distinction refers to contemporary European society, I argue that some aspects of his theory on capital can be used to explain the negotiations and arrangements between middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester. Talking to the women in my research, knowledge of and competence in traditional and contemporary Pakistani culture was a marker of cultural capital. D’Sylva and Beagan (2011) argue that cultural capital is always contextual and dependent on the social milieu. It refers to non-financial assets such as the cultural knowledge enabling one to seamlessly manoeuver through a given social field, for the purpose of social mobility, allowing one to transform cultural knowledge into a source of power and status (D’Sylva and Beagan 2011: 281). Juxtaposed with taste, style and deportment, Pakistani nationals measured the cultural capital of second-generation British-Pakistanis on their fluency and pronunciation in Urdu, pronunciation in English, and transnational connections to Pakistan. Farah explained that this cultural competence was a signifier of social class background. Those from an urban background in Pakistan had access to the cultural traits that the Pakistani nationals looked out for.

Bourdieu argued that there was a direct link between cultural capital, education, and family background (parents’ occupation) (1984: 5). Although Boudieu suggested that cultural capital could be appropriated in many ways, the effectiveness of education in increasing cultural capital was very much dependent on cultural capital inherited from family (1984: 15). This was evident in my study. Although the women I spoke to had

92 reached middle-class status, it was the combination of their family background and education that would place them on an equal footing (or not) in terms of taste and style in comparison to Pakistani nationals. Interestingly, this new group of immigrants, rather than the non-Asian British establishment, worked as a point of reference and measurement to British-Pakistani women’s achievements. This explains why there was an apparent distinction in dress and demeanour between the recently established Pakistani women (Pakistani nationals) and the second-generation British-Pakistani women that I met. Similarly nuances like bearing, posture, pronunciation, clothing, mannerisms, and presentation are deeply embodied and unconsciously reproduced, and become signifiers of social class origins (Bennet et al 2009: 154, Bourdieu 1984: 238). These unconsciously registered signifiers were important factors in deciding who is identified with, and who is not (Bourdieu 1984: 238). This internalised form of class conditioning is what Bourdieu referred to as ‘class habitus’ (1984: 101), enabling one to classify practices as well as to differentiate and acknowledge these tastes and practices.

Bourdieu explained that those who acquired cultural capital through education had to prove themselves, because the capital that they had amassed has been recently learnt, rather than embodied from childhood. They had to work hard to accumulate cultural capital to become bourgeoisie, while among those born into status, cultural capital had been passed down through the generations (Bourdieu 1984: 15). In my research, the affluent Pakistani women (Pakistani nationals) I met could be taken as examples of this inherited class habitus, and hence became models for the second-generation women. They exuded confidence, their style and elegance was effortless; something that could not merely be learnt. Bourdieu (1984: 330-331) also made this distinction by stating that the petite bourgeois took culture too seriously to avoid making mistakes, or worse; to be seen as ignorant. Hence, they lacked the familiar relation to culture, meaning they were not as relaxed and confident as those born into the culture.

I observed this self-consciousness among the second- generation British-Pakistani women in the presence of Pakistani national women. The Pakistani nationals at the Ladies’ Night could be distinguished from second-generation British-Pakistanis through Bourdieu’s notion of taste (1984: 49). The women from Pakistan had sleeker hair

93 styles, subtle makeup and jewellery. Their outfits were more understated although more daring, in that they opted for sheerer fabrics and were less concerned about baring flesh than the more conservative second-generation British-Pakistani women. The emphasis was on textures, drape and, more importantly, the quality of the fabrics, and these nuances in clothing were an indicator of social class background. However, the second-generation British-Pakistanis opted for flamboyancy: big hair, bold makeup, towering heels and outfits that were embellished with sequins. Personal taste feels natural, which is the reason why others’ taste is rejected as unnatural, and it is this reluctance to accommodate different lifestyles that is the main barrier between classes. This is particularly so for those who regard themselves as having the legitimate culture, which is why it is so important for them to maintain these distinctions of taste as a marker of difference (Bourdieu 1984: 49). Somehow, British-Pakistani women knew this, and looked up to their acquaintances who were Pakistani nationals, as ideals to be observed and copied.

Capital, either social or cultural according to Bourdieu (1986), was essential for mobilising into other resources for securing advantage and exploiting for social class reproduction (cited in Cederberg 2012: 61), to preserve class advantage and to maintain social inequality (Weller 2010: 873). For Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992) and Portes (1998), social capital referred to resources acquired by individuals through belonging to a social network (Warr 2006: 498). Social capital at this event, and throughout my fieldwork, was used by some in the same context as Bourdieu (1986) described for maintaining exclusiveness and exploiting social class reproduction (Cederberg 2012: 61). It was a measure to prevent the ‘wrong’ kind of people entering their circles (Gauntlett 2011: 2).

The Ladies’ Night shed light on the significance and value of social capital, which had a significant impact on the expression of identity to the women in my research. On this occasion, social capital was manifested through middle-class Pakistani culture embodied by Pakistani nationals from an educated and affluent background. Among middle-class second-generation British-Pakistanis, factors such as the socio-economic status of their relatives in Pakistan, transnational connections to Pakistan, and exposure to the customs and culture associated with wealthy Pakistanis in Pakistan all

94 amounted to social capital. Therefore, other factors were equally as important as economic factors in establishing social class division. Cederberg (2012: 61) argues that social capital, cultural capital and symbolic capital (one’s status in relation to other people) are just as important as economic wealth.

At the Ladies’ Night event, the ways in which Farah and the other women dressed and behaved allowed them to achieve recognition among the women from Pakistan sitting at their table. As I mentioned earlier, the Pakistani nationals who recently settled in Britain were from a wealthy and privileged background. Although they had set up home in Britain, they still maintained strong links to Pakistan through friends and family they left behind with whom they maintained close ties. Through these contacts and frequent visits to Pakistan, they were able to keep up to date with current affairs, politics and popular culture in Pakistan. These Pakistani nationals are an example of transnational migrants, moving across international borders and settling in a new state, while maintaining social connections with the homeland (Glick Schiller and Fouron 1999: 344), enabling ways of belonging to more than one nation state (Guarnizo et al 2003: 1239). The Pakistani culture they brought with them (fashion, style, values, language, and customs) was what many second-generation British- Pakistani women aspired to achieve because, it was what they regarded as desirable. Knowledge of this culture (cultural capital) earned second-generation British-Pakistanis social capital. It opened them up to the social circles of British-Pakistanis and Pakistanis nationals who had connections to wealthy and influential Pakistanis in both Britain and Pakistan.

I argue that for Farah and some of her friends, it was social capital - a direct consequence of social class reproduction through family - that enabled them to engage with Pakistani nationals. Farah had mentioned on several occasions that her parents were from an established background in Pakistan, which made her familiar with middle-class Pakistani culture in Pakistan. Like many other women in my study, Farah was engaging in transnational social fields through her upbringing, relatives, friends, and trips to Pakistan. The deep embodiment of these experiences gave her cultural competence and knowledge of Pakistani culture, which earned Farah social status among the Pakistani nationals she knew in Manchester. Levitt (2009: 1226) notes that

95 although second-generation migrants do not have the same ties to ancestral home as their parents, the impact of being raised in transnational social fields should not be underestimated. Through transnational social fields the second-generation master certain skills such as the ability to understand the rules and institutions of the country they live in and of the country their parents left behind. This enables them to accomplish the necessarily social skills for both settings. Essentially, the second generation from wealthy Pakistani families did not have the same struggle to copy Pakistani nationals as the second generation from working-class backgrounds who became socially mobile in the UK and are now middle-class.

Many of my informants had told me that the second-generation British-Pakistanis who did not have exposure to middle-class lifestyle in Pakistan via transnational social fields, through friends, family and trips to Pakistani, preferred to socialise with second- generation British-Pakistanis rather than Pakistani nationals. This allowed them to avoid being labelled as ‘pehndoo’ for their lack of knowledge and experience of current Pakistani culture among those who had cultural competence.23 The term ‘pehndoo’ was used by participants on many occasions during my fieldwork, to describe people perceived as unrefined and ignorant. My participants told me that Pakistani nationals looked down upon second-generation British-Pakistanis because most were from a rural and working-class background, and therefore to avoid this derogatory label they tried to keep up to date with the customs, style and culture associated with affluent Pakistanis from Pakistan. Language was important: to be well-spoken and fluent in Urdu was an indicator of social class background.24 Second-generation British- Pakistanis whose parents were from an established background in Pakistan had this advantage. Those who did not, but wanted to contend with Pakistani nationals, improved their Urdu speaking skills not only through socialising with Pakistanis nationals, but also by watching Pakistani serials on satellite Pakistani channels and learning about Pakistani popular culture and customs through the internet and other

23 Pehndoo is a derogatory word meaning ‘villagey’ or unsophisticated. 24 The majority of women in my study were from a Punjabi background. Middle-class Pakistanis of Punjabi decent spoke to their children in Urdu because it was considered a more refined vernacular. Therefore, second-generation who were more fluent in Punjabi than Urdu were considered ‘pehndoo’ by Pakistani national.

96 media. This exposure to Pakistani culture through media and socialising also enabled them to pick up nuances associated with cosmopolitan and socially mobile Pakistanis. Above all, access to this culture gave second-generation British-Pakistanis recognition and respect among the Pakistani nationals. Likewise, second-generation Indian- Americans in Maira’s (2002) study also looked up to South Asian culture and regarded ‘Indian culture’ as superior to ‘Western culture’. They looked down on Indian- American peers who lacked the knowledge and performance of Indian culture. Indian culture served as “a cultural logic of authenticity that creates distinctions and hierarchies” (Maira 2002: 131), and the same can be said about Pakistani culture in my study.

Pakistani nationals were not they only source of social capital for second-generation British-Pakistanis: it could also be earned among their second-generation British- Pakistani friends and also by other means such as through their involvement in their local community, the mosque community, and the school community which I discussed in the previous chapter. Though charitable and community work, they earned social capital in the way described by Putnam (2000: 22). Although Bourdieu explained social capital as part of the processes that generate social inequality, other scholars draw on social capital to describe social connectedness (Gauntlett 2011: 2). For example, Putnam maintains that social capital means interconnectedness within a network of trust, arguing that the pillars of social capital are the family and neighbourhood, and trust is based on social norms, obligations and social networks such as voluntary organisations (Putnam 2000: 22). Actions and behaviours that are positively recognised by the group engender trust which galvanises social capital through positive communal relations (Siisiäinen 2000: 2, 4 and 19). In my study, social capital has been used in both kinds of processes, as a means of generating distinction, which ultimately leads to social inequality; and as a means for promoting community and social connectedness, as described.

Being able to earn social capital in more than one way meant that many second- generation British-Pakistanis did not have to be familiar with Pakistani culture, or the values and interests of wealthy Pakistanis from Pakistan, in order to gain recognition. Having different means of social capital was more egalitarian: a number of my

97 participants said that there were many middle-class Pakistanis who did not have access to this culture and lifestyle of privileged Pakistanis in Pakistan. Farah observed that the families of second-generation British-Pakistanis who were out of touch with their cultural heritage had generally come from a modest background in Pakistan. British- Pakistanis who held a more negative view of Pakistan and eschewed their cultural heritage were an indication among those in my study that they had not experienced middle-class urban life in Pakistan, and that they were embarrassed about their background. Bolognani (2014), in her study of British-Pakistanis from Mirpur district of Pakistan, points out that British-Pakistanis who feel side-lined or excluded in Britain, and who maintain an image of Pakistan as backward, corrupt and undeveloped have created a new British-Muslim identity for themselves of which they feel proud. Hence, those whose relatives in Pakistan had not caught up to their socio-economic status espoused a British-Muslim identity as opposed to British-Pakistani. Consequently, many British-Pakistanis affiliated themselves with the mosque through charity work, garnering capital through a British-Muslim identity as opposed to British-Pakistani one. However, the majority of women I came across in the field, including my participants, were proud of their heritage. They engendered an image of Pakistan as rich in material and culture, as progressive and modern. This image, one which they created to represent their heritage - ‘where they were from’ - was maintained regardless of how often, if ever, they visited Pakistan. Events such as the Ladies’ Night were occasions to celebrate this identity, one which my participants believed was superior to a white British identity.

I listened to the conversations that the second-generation British-Pakistanis were having with the Pakistani nationals at my table during dinner. They discussed the fashionable districts of large cities in Pakistan that they had visited to show that they too were well connected in Pakistan. In the presence of Pakistanis nationals, the second-generation British-Pakistanis did not want to appear ignorant about Pakistan, and on their trips to Pakistan they made sure that they visited, shopped and dined at the popular places in the large metropolitan cities like Lahore, Karachi and Islamabad. The kind of belonging here points to the creation of a transnational social field through these relationships between Pakistani nationals and second-generation British-

Pakistanis. This transnational identity gives second-generations British-Pakistanis a feeling of belonging to contemporary Pakistan which is a privileged one, passed down by those with the means to access it. I argue this also gave the women in my study a sense of pride, through having a positive identification with their ancestral home. This identification and the attachment of second-generation migrants to their ancestral homeland is described by Wolf (2002) as ‘emotional transnationalism’ (cited in Lee 2011: 307).

This image of Pakistan was not representative of Pakistan as a whole, but was rather a narrow focus on a privileged society. The women upheld this image through conversation, and the Pakistani media and Pakistani nationals engendered this positive image of Pakistan. It seemed to me that these imaginaries were important for self- esteem because these women did not want to be associated with the negative portrayal of Pakistan and Pakistanis that dominated Western media. At social events, the women could shut themselves off from the cultural and religious hostility present in the West. Events like these became arenas to celebrate Pakistani patriotism and to identify positively with Pakistani culture and heritage.

At these events, there was a positive association of Pakistani culture and heritage, seldom acknowledged by people outside this ethnic group. Although some of the women had not visited Pakistan often, positive memories and experiences of Pakistan through their transnational identity was sufficient to enable them to participate in conversations about Pakistani culture. Levitt and Glick Schiller in their study on transnational ties (2004: 1010-1011) claim that direct connections to the ancestral home was not a prerequisite to engage in transnational social fields. Information, affiliation to those enmeshed in transnational social fields, ways of belonging, imagination and nostalgia were many ways of creating and maintaining transnational connections. Although some British-Pakistanis could physically share the same experiences of being in Pakistan, those who could not were able to engage in Pakistani culture through the fresh ideas that Pakistanis nationals brought with them from Pakistan.

Dinner at the Ladies Night event

As the queue went down, our table headed to the buffet. The buffet was a selection of Pakistani and international foods. There were several different types of salads to choose from: Caesar, Waldorf, pasta, potato, Greek, chickpea salad, and bean salad to name a few. The starters consisted of kofte kebabs, samosas, spicy chicken wings, chicken kebabs and spring rolls. The main courses included classic Pakistani dishes such as pilau rice, biryani, and several different curries which were served alongside stir- fries, and noodle and pasta dishes.

While standing at the buffet table, Farah suggested that I should bring my daughter along to these events to instil interest in ‘our culture’ and enabling her to witnesses for herself that ‘Pakistanis are not boring, and they have fun and glamour too’. I replied that my children were exposed to culture through family and that they enjoyed family gatherings. Farah insisted that family was not sufficient in instilling a strong Pakistani identity, and the influence of friends was just as important as family in shaping identity. Farah reiterated the importance of familiarising children with Pakistani culture through Pakistani events to encourage interest, awareness and pride in their Pakistani heritage. She explained that it was necessary to introduce children to Pakistani social events and Muslim social events as an opportunity to meet other Muslims and Pakistanis their age, and to learn more about their religion and heritage. Farah told me that growing up, her parents made sure that she and her siblings accompanied them to cultural events and religious gatherings, which was their way of imparting a strong ethnic identity and belonging. Much of Farah’s values had been instilled by her parents and shaped by her upbringing, which I discuss in greater detail in the final chapter (A Loving Daughter).

Farah advised me,

“You have to be very careful when it comes to your children, because it is important to let them mix culturally within their own culture so they have a sense of pride, belonging and identity being Pakistani” (Interview, November 2013).

100

These ideas are similar to those described in Maira’s (2002) study of second- generation Indian-Americans, where the purpose of cultural events was to implement the definition of ‘Indian culture’ through the enactment and performance of ethnic identity through language, music, dance and clothing. The purpose of ethnic events was to cultivate a South Asian cultural identity. The celebration of Indian culture in the diaspora was an act of ‘cultural authentication’ – the performance of culture to manifest and validate culture.

“Through each act, you will observe the magnificent beauty of our culture; your eyes will witness the richness of our diversity…These acts portray who we are and manifest the facts that our acts come from some sort of ancient tradition” (Maira 2002: 120).

Back at the table, Farah was greeted by a second-generation British-Pakistani woman called Iram. She had blonde streaks in her hair which she wore half up and half down, carefully styled to look dishevelled. She also wore a very revealing outfit, and had a coarse raspy voice, and spoke loudly with a broad Mancunian accent. After Iram had left the table, Farah looked at me and explained apologetically that the woman she was talking to was a ‘lovely girl’ and was an ‘old and very dear friend who was very kind’. I got the impression that Farah was concerned that I would judge her for having friends that were not as polished as the people she associated herself with. At the same time, Farah did not want to come across as harsh or judgmental, and highlighted the fact that she did not judge people by their clothes or background.

Both Iram and Farah’s friend Arifa had caused Farah slight embarrassment, because both had failed to tailor their performance to appeal to the Pakistani women with whom Farah associated herself at the table. They had clearly misread or overlooked the social context and nuances of these Pakistani women who were seated at the table, failing to recognise what was acceptable behaviour to them. To be accepted by middle-class Pakistanis from Pakistan was important to Farah and most of my participants, and they behaved in a certain manner that would appeal to them and fulfil their expectations. Goffman (1956: 44) mentions that a performance is ‘socialised’, customised and adapted to comply with the expectations and

101 understanding of the interlocutors that they are appealing to. A performance gives its audience an idealised impression of the performer: the intent of the performance is to epitomise the values that are most esteemed by the group.

The impact of wealthy Pakistani nationals

According to Farah, second-generation British-Pakistanis were intimidated by the wealthy Pakistani nationals who had set up home in Britain because they were elegant, sophisticated and self-assured, and placed importance on status, speech and appearance. But this idea of Pakistani nationals possessing greater social and cultural capital than second-generation British-Pakistanis did not resonate with either Arifa or Iram, and they overlooked such social etiquette on which other women placed so much importance. They were not interested in the Pakistani nationals, unlike Farah and other second-generation British-Pakistanis, because they earned capital by other means. The women I met in the field had agency that enabled them to make choices about how to earn social capital. Their upbringing, experiences, and interests influenced greatly how they wanted to garner capital and among whom they wanted to earn recognition. Therefore, their behaviour resulted from a combination of embodied taste, acquired and inherited habitus, and agency.

Meanwhile, second-generation British-Pakistanis also felt ambivalent towards the Pakistani nationals who had settled in Britain in recent years, judging from the way that they placed so much importance on things that were deemed superficial. But at the same time, they looked up to them, wanting to absorb the kind of cultural capital they possessed. However, according to Farah, one had to find a good balance. Some people, she explained, tried too hard and their behaviour came across as false and contrived. They went as far as appropriating the English accent, idioms and gestures of Pakistani nationals, in an attempt to fit in with them. Their relationships with Pakistani nationals was ambiguous- while it represented an important source of information and knowledge about how to be a middle-class Pakistani, which gave them ideas on how to be a middle-class British-Pakistani, it could not be taken too seriously as to impinge on

102 their own genuine way of being middle-class second-generation Pakistani immigrants in Manchester.

As the night went on, it became clear to me that the Ladies’ Night event was not simply an opportunity to relax, enjoy oneself and make friends. It was an opportunity to assert and establish British-Pakistani identity and values. Over my fourteen months in the field, I attended many similar events and I noticed that the topics of conversations that women were having at these events were recurrent, and seemed to point to a pattern in terms of moral values. For instance, one of the topics of discussions at our table was children’s education and the schools their children attended. It seemed imperative to the women I had come across at this event and at other social occasions, to find out how other children were performing at school as a way of measuring their own children’s academic progress. Social events were arenas for women to show off their children’s achievements and academic abilities, and also to show off their own parenting skills. The women exchanged values that they were imparting to the next generation. In this way, the women established rules, boundaries and expectations for the next generation of British-Pakistanis.

Another topic of conversation related to religion and family values. While sitting at the table, Farah’s sister Zara discussed the importance of religious and cultural values. The women discussed their upbringing, and appreciated that their parents had instilled them with discipline and strong cultural values, giving them a sense of identity and belonging. Zara mentioned that family ‘mahaul’ (environment / influences) was very important in instilling values in children. She pointed out that although she was liberal and somewhat Westernised, it was important to her to pass on the cultural and religious values she was raised with to her children. Although Zara encouraged her children to socialise with non-Muslim and non-Pakistani children, it was critical to her that her children socialised with Pakistani and Muslim children, so they had a sense of belonging, and were friends with others who shared a similar family background and values.

It was also common at these events to hear some women talking about their children’s religious achievements, and also showing off about their own religious knowledge.

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They thought highly of women who were able to juggle successful careers and at the same time raise children who are high academic achievers, well-mannered, and have a firm religious grounding. In addition to this, they were impressed by women who possess other qualities and attributes on top of having a career, such as being a good host, an accomplished cook, or having a flair for fashion and style. Essentially, there was a large amount of competitiveness and pressure among friends, and social events were opportunities where women not only exchanged important information, but also gained inspiration from others. For these women, friendships enhanced their own capacities through knowledge, competitiveness and inspiration.

The bar had been raised with the arrival of Pakistani nationals. Farah stated that it was important to have cultivated taste, to polish one’s Urdu and to be in touch with Pakistani fashion, style and popular culture, because of the fear of being seen as ‘pehndoo’ in the eyes of Pakistani nationals. Hence many second-generation women felt pressured to demonstrate this cultural competence to their Pakistani national peers. But cultural competence was not limited to Pakistani culture, it also meant possessing the skills to seamlessly slip into different cultural domains. This knowledge and ability was what defined a middle-class British-Pakistani woman. Being a middle- class British-Pakistani was about being contenders in a global market, being consumers of global food, fashion, technology and entertainment, as well as consolidating their ethnic identity. This was evident at the Ladies’ Night event, as some women opted to wear outfits of the latest Pakistani fashion, whereas other chose to wear British high street fashion. Furthermore, the music played, and the food served at this event reflected global and local influences. Calhoun defines this as ‘consumer cosmopolitanism’, arguing that music, literature, clothes, food and tourism are all representations of cosmopolitanism (Calhoun 2002: 896). Middle-class British- Pakistani identity has been shaped by processes of globalisation, influenced by cultural upbringing, popular culture, transnationalism, media and travel. This is also evident in Rytter’s study of Pakistanis living in Denmark, in which he notes that Pakistanis amass a plethora of local, national and transnational identities from which they can choose from depending on specific social context and recognition of others (2010a: 58). The

104 women with whom I did research were selecting elements of that plethora of identities that appealed to them.

Thus, the influence of transnationalism, globalisation, popular culture and the influence of Pakistani nationals had a huge impact on shaping a British-Pakistani identity. Consequently, because of these influences British-Pakistani identity is in a state of flux, evolving and changing over time. Yet the women I spoke to describe this British-Pakistani identity as being concrete and static, something that was important to maintain through the subsequent generations. In reality, what they wanted to pass on to their children was the enthusiasm for their culture and a sense of belonging through identification with other British-Pakistanis. Stories passed down by family members, distant memories of visits to Pakistan and childhood memories of Pakistani social events, and an interest in current Pakistani culture were all contributing factors in shaping this British-Pakistani identity. This longing and belonging among second- generation migrants and their interest in their parents’ home culture is what Magbouhleh, in her study of Iranian-American students, describes as ‘inherited nostalgia’ (2010: 214). The retelling of family stories and the consumption of nostalgic popular music are examples of cultural pathways through which second-generation immigrant identities are manifested (Magbouhleh 2010: 214). To this nostalgia, they added a privileged image of contemporary Pakistan that allowed them to bring this identity up to date with an urban cosmopolitan concept of themselves that showed social mobility in relationship to previous generations.

Entertainment

I followed Farah and the women who sat at her table back to the buffet table for dessert. Again, there was a large selection of desserts to choose from. The platters of fruit were beautifully presented and looked mouth-watering. There were also bowls of Pakistani desserts and an eye-catching display of delicate French patisseries. So much thought and effort had been gone into the presentation of the desserts. Teas and coffees were also being served alongside the desserts. The women returned to their tables with their selection of desserts and tea and coffee.

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During dessert, as the women were seated, women came to each table selling raffle tickets for two pounds each. Those on my table bought at least one ticket each, including myself. After dessert, the lights were dimmed again, the music got louder, and the lights started flashing on the dance floor. The waiting staff cleared the buffet table before clearing the tables where the guests were sitting. The music was loud and energetic, and a few women got up to dance. Very soon the dance floor was full and the tables almost empty, with only a handful of women remaining seated. The women gyrated to hip hop, danced enthusiastically to Psy, a Korean pop artist, belly danced to Arab music, showed off their Bollywood dancing skills and danced to popular UK chart hits. Farah, Zara and their friends were all showing off their dance moves. I realised that being able to dance to a variety of different genres of music was an accomplished skill recognised at the social events I had attended during my fieldwork.

As the event drew to a close, Amina came back on stage to announce a raffle. Although some women had left after the disco, as others were getting ready to leave Amina, speaking over the microphone, asked the guests to stay for the raffle. She asked friends from the audience to pick out the winning tickets. As her friends went on the stage, her other friends cheered. The atmosphere was light, and everyone seemed in high spirits as they had enjoyed the evening. Each time a ticket was pulled out, the audience applauded and cheered in excitement as the winner went on stage to claim their prize that Amina had announced. During the raffle, Amina and the audience engaged in banter, as many of the women seated were her good friends. It had also been Amina’s friends who were at the event that had donated the prizes for the raffle. The donations included theatre tickets, beauty products, gift vouchers, chocolates, costume jewellery, and vouchers for hair or beauty treatments. The money raised was to be donated to cancer research. On the first occasion I attended the event, I won a voucher for a French manicure, and on my second visit I won a piece of handmade costume jewellery. The raffle went on for over half an hour. There were many prizes to be won, and there was a lot of exchanges of jokes between Amina and her friends in the audience. After the raffle, it was time to leave.

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The drive home

Farah and her friends hugged one another before they parted. I followed Farah to her car with Arifa and Naz, as Farah was driving us all back home. Naz and Arifa lived near Farah. Once in the car Farah, Arifa and Naz reflected on the evening, discussing how much fun they had had. Farah apologised to me light-heartedly for her and her friends’ rowdy behaviour. I think Farah was hinting more at Arifa’s behaviour in the presence of her friends from Pakistan sitting at our table, and her failure to pick up the nuances in the company of these women. Arifa said that meeting up with old college friends had made her giddy and behave like a teenager. It was the shared history and experiences stemming from their youth that cemented Arifa and Farah’s friendship. Farah had mentioned to me on several occasions that her behaviour and relationship with her friends from college was different from those she made later in life. She was less reserved and more carefree when she was solely in the company of her college friends.

The women agreed that the Ladies’ Night was important, to get together and to have a good time with friends. They emphasised the importance of prioritising time to be carefree and to enjoy themselves in the company of friends and on the dancefloor. Arifa changed the tone of the conversation, stating that although she agreed it was necessary to have fun with friends, it was equally important to her to focus on faith as well. Both Farah and Naz agreed with Arifa that religion was also a focal point of their lives, and it was important to pass on religious values to their children. Naz mentioned that she, Farah and Malia had gone to great lengths to find someone to teach their children the Quran in Arabic. Eventually after a lot of research, Naz discovered a woman who lived near her who was willing to teach the Quran in Arabic.

My interlocutors often highlighted this balance between being frivolous and being reserved. For them, it was imperative to enjoy oneself but also to demonstrate discipline and religiosity. These often contrasting and conflicting identities had a place and value in their lives. At times the women were eager to demonstrate that their identities were multi-faceted, and the fun they had was controlled and contextualised. At other times, they presented their identities are being fixed and absolute, such as

107 when they described what Pakistani identity meant to them. Therefore, the presentation and understanding of their identities at times was somewhat contradictory. These contradictions served a purpose because meanings, understandings, and performances of identities were contextual and underwent re- definition and new meanings to amass capital and recognition. Farah, Naz and Arifa wanted to be seen as dynamic, not as stuffy and boring because of their interest in religion and education. They also wanted to demonstrate a carefree side to their personality. In my observation, being a British-Pakistani and belonging happened through identifying with different values and interests, which were at times polarised. It was not enough to be religious, it was also important to take an interest in the sensuous side of their cultural heritage, and also to be worldly. At the same time, it was not sufficient to be worldly without taking note of cultural and religious values and constraints. Arifa’s lack of cultural competence and social capital in the presence of the Pakistani nationals could, for instance, be compensated for by her drive, competitiveness and discipline when it came to the religious education of her children, which earned her social capital among her friends. Therefore, the women homed into their own skills and abilities and utilised them to gain social capital and recognition among their own. In the next chapter, I explore how piety governs values, friendships and belonging, and the ways in which religious rhetoric is exploited for the purpose of challenging some patriarchal customs.

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Chapter 4. Fashionable piety

Introduction

This chapter focuses on the meaning of religion to the middle-class British-Pakistani women who participated in my research. The choices they made and the changes they had recently embraced involved their desires to engage further with their faith (religion), but also to embrace Islam in ways that were specific to their generation. This chapter continues with the themes of belonging and identity. However, rather than looking at community-building practices such the mosque activities I discussed in Chapter 2, or the display and performance of British-Pakistani identity in a public sphere such as the Ladies’ Night in Chapter 3. Here I focus on how personal religious choices bridge a very personal arena with the desire for public recognition, by both British-Pakistanis and the wider society. The theme of engagement in capital-earning activities is also important here, but as I will show, moral (to be a good Muslim), social (friendship), and cultural (material and symbolic) capital are tangled up as most of the women try to bring together religious tradition and gender agency.

For this purpose, I have focussed mainly on Amber and Syrah, whose friendship developed from their mutual interest in Islam. Amber had recently become more devout and it was fascinating to see how religion shaped her identity and governed her friendships. Soon after embarking on a religious quest she met Syrah, who shared a similar lifestyle and religious outlook.25 Both women also share a love of fashion, and they exchanged ideas and tips with one another about how to combine style and modesty. I have known Amber for over two decades, and watched her become increasingly devout in her faith over the last few years. She turned to her faith to gain strength and solace after one of her children became ill. The deeper she looked into the teachings of Islam, the more she was drawn to it. Although her motivation to become more devout in her faith was a consequence of a family matter, she explained to me that she was also very much influenced by her wider surroundings. Particularly

25 ‘Religious quest’ is a term I use to describe the experience of my participants as they increase their religious knowledge and become more devout in their faith.

109 in the aftermath of 9/11, more and more Muslims were turning to their faith and learning more about Islam, and consequently becoming more manifestly pious. This piety lead to increasing number of Muslim women adopting the headscarf and Muslim men wearing beards as an expressive embodied commitment to their faith (Tarlo 2010, Sandikci and Ger 2010, Sandikci 2011). Amber had commented to me about this issue on several occasions prior to her becoming more religious, and she was intrigued by other people’s personal desires to become increasingly devout.

More recently, the proliferation of religiosity among mostly Pakistani women in both Britain and Pakistan seemed to be highly influenced by the work of Farhat Hashmi, a Pakistani Islamic scholar. Both Amber and Syrah were interested in teachings which they had come across at South Manchester Mosque 1 and South Manchester Mosque 2. Hashmi had been responsible for promoting a particular religious doctrine which has been espoused by many mosques throughout Britain. The religious discourse promoted by Hashmi is a rather literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures, and goes beyond ritual worship and religious expectations. In this viewpoint, Islam is no longer practiced solely in private, but shapes every aspect of people’s everyday life, dictating how and who Muslims socialise with, what they wear, how they conduct themselves and they spend their leisure time.

Visual piety

Amber had only started wearing a headscarf a few weeks prior to meeting Syrah in 2010 at her children’s primary school. As they got to know each other, they soon realised they had a lot in common- similar interests, aspirations, lifestyle, passion for fashion and desire to increase knowledge of their faith. They encouraged and supported each other as they increased their religious knowledge. Initially Amber’s family was not very supportive, and it took them time to come around to the idea of her becoming more religious, especially in adhering to the literal interpretations of the scriptures. They also believed it unnecessary to look too deeply in the hadiths or for

110 women to cover their hair.26 Observing such a strict interpretation of the dress code was a step too far in Amber’s husband’s opinion. He had liked the way she dressed before becoming more religious, and had not considered it immodest. However, Amber disagreed with her husband and stood her ground, contesting that there was a strict dress code for women in Islam, which was to cover the hair and wear loose clothing that did concealed the shape of the body. Her father also disapproved of Amber’s new dress code, and for the first few weeks of wearing the headscarf she removed it before she came face to face with him. According to Amber her religious upbringing had been very basic because her parents only adhered to the five pillars of Islam, and the Islam they followed was imbued with culture, making it difficult to distinguish want was actually ‘culture’ and what originated from Islamic scriptures.27 By ‘culture’, Amber and others in my study were referring to the cultural conventions and patriarchal customs that were so important to the first generation of British- Pakistanis. The previous generation accepted religious values and rituals passed down by their parents, whereas the present generation were taking a more active approach to religion. Unlike the generation before them, the second generation were undertaking research into religious scriptures to gain a deeper understanding of their faith, one which they did not perceived as tainted by cultural expectations.

With Amber’s encouragement, her mother started attending classes at the mosque to increase her religious knowledge. Several women I spoke to during my fieldwork argued that they were more knowledgeable about Islam and practised their religion more than their parents, because unlike their parents (who were first generation), they were more pro-active in their research into Islam. Having access to a myriad of religious literature on the internet has led the second generation to believe that they are better equipped to study and understand Islam more than their parents. Likewise, Ijaz and Abbas (2010) also found in their study of intergenerational changes among working-class British-Pakistanis that second-generation British-Pakistanis were more informed about Islam through accessing knowledge from Islamic literature, books and

26 Hadiths are the sayings and decisions made by Prophet Mohammad, which were orally transmitted by his companions, and eventually documented (Afshar 2008: 422, Rinaldo 2014: 843). 27 The five pillars of Islam are the belief in the oneness of God and Mohammad being the last prophet, giving charity, fasting in the month of Ramadan, performing haj (pilgrimage to Mecca), and the daily performance of five obligatory prayers. Islam 101. Five Pillars of Islam (n.d.)

111 an in-depth analysis of the Quran. As well as the easy accessibility of information about the hadiths available through the internet, books, and classes taught at the mosque, it was common for Amber, Syrah and their friends to circulate quotes from the hadith via text messaging. According to Rollier’s (2010) study of texting religious messages among urban youth in Pakistan, Islamic texting encourages a new sense of piety as a way of garnering moral virtue and recognition. Therefore, Amber and her friends, and the second generation more widely, had these extra resources at their disposal that facilitated their search for information and knowledge that, they believed, went beyond what they had been given by their parents. As such, they were creating a new habitus, which they wanted to convey to their children and, surprisingly, to their parents as knowledge is usually transmitted to younger generations.

A number of women in my study explained to me that their parents did not have access to in-depth knowledge on Islam at their fingertips, and instead relied on the Quran and extracts of the hadiths that they came across or heard at sermons at the mosque. They explained that the first generation, in defence, told their children that the religious knowledge and understanding of Islam they had acquired was sufficient because it covered the five pillars of Islam. From the perspective of the first-generation parents, what their children were doing was unnecessary because, in their opinion, the essence of Islam was lost through literal interpretation Islamic scriptures. According to the parents of a number of the women in my study, and the findings in Mirza’s (2009: 276) study, parents were not encouraging of their children’s greater religiosity, and preferred their children put this effort and passion into their studies and think about their future instead. Unlike the second generation, their parents kept faith private and moderate in an effort to fit into a non-Muslim society. Parents of many of the second generation did not want to draw attention to their differences in public, whereas many second-generation British-Pakistanis chose to assert their difference through visual piety such as wearing a headscarf (Mirza 2009: 276). This need to display visual difference among pious Muslims, to differentiate themselves from other faiths groups, seems to be a recent trend. As Mahmood (2005: 45) rightly notes, mosques are promoting the distinction of Muslims from Christians and non-believers not just through religion, but also through the vernacular, lifestyle, commitment and dress.

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Syrah also told me that she was the most religious in her family, the only one to wear a headscarf and to follow a literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures. In her family’s opinion, her approach to religion was too zealous, overtaking all aspects of her life. Syrah spent her leisure time reading about Islam, watching Islamic programmes and listening to Islamic lectures over the internet, as well attending the mosque. Essentially, it was the whole idea of following a religious trajectory that involved leisure time being devoted to worship and increasing religious knowledge, and forging friendships with those who were equally dedicated to faith that appealed to both Syrah and Amber. This enthusiasm to know more about Islam and espouse a Muslim identity brought Syrah and Amber closer because they lacked encouragement from their family and relied on one another for guidance and support. More importantly, having an overarching Muslim identity made them feel they were connected to a global Muslim community, known as the umma. In a study of British Muslim identity, Brown (2006: 419) defines the umma as a community of Muslims embracing a universal Islamic identity, created to unite Muslims across national borders, and made possible through the process of globalisation.

Studying the English translation of the Quran, and reading Islamic literature in books and online was the beginning of Amber’s religious quest that eventually led her to the decision to wear a headscarf, which she believed was mandatory to her faith. Wearing a headscarf adhered to the laws of dress and modesty in Islam, and was enmeshed in her Muslim identity. This is also noted in Siraj’s (2011: 720) study of Muslim women in Glasgow, where wearing a veil signifies a woman’s bodily space as Muslim and sacred. Interestingly, although Mahmood (2005: 16) argues that while many scholars describe veiling as an outcome of resistance to the commodification of women’s bodies in the West, they overlook the important fact that veiling is fundamental to Islamic virtues of female modesty or piety. This was critical to Amber and Syrah as for them veiling represented commitment and devotion to God. In addition, people could recognise in public that they were Muslim. Ryan (2011), in her study of the stigmatisation of British Muslim women after 9/11, also recognises that clothing can act as a powerful marker of difference. Frontier (1999) notes that clothing is a means through which religion and

113 gendered values are conveyed, and acknowledged by others (cited in Ryan 2011: 1047), which was what Syrah and Amber were aiming to achieve.

According to Tarlo (2010: 56), the headscarf attracts the curiosity of non-Muslims, and hence gives rise to an opportunity to engage in a dialogue about faith with non- Muslims. I use the term ‘visual piety’ to explain this because for the women I worked with, the use of the hijab (headscarf) signifies a manifest, almost publicised, commitment to faith and Islamic identity. The hijab carries an important message: to non-Muslims, it signifies Muslim identity and to other Muslims, it shows commitment and devotion to faith. Sandikci and Ger (2010: 18), in their study of the relationship between the market and religion in Turkey, argue that a number of scholars acknowledge the recent trend of veiling among Muslim women as a global social movement, a collective expression of commitment to Islam. Tarlo found in her study of fashion and consumerism among British Muslim women that many women she spoke to expressed that wearing a headscarf offered them a sense of community and camaraderie among Muslim women who also chose to veil (2010: 54). Veiled women were greeted in the street by complete strangers wearing a headscarf as an acknowledgment of solidarity among Muslims, an experience that made the wearer feel part of a larger, even a global, Islamic community (umma). Amber and Syrah wanted to assert their religious identity in public, and wearing the hijab allowed them to do this. ‘Visual piety’ meant a sense of camaraderie - they were among others who were passionate about their faith and wanted to celebrate their pride in being Muslim and were not afraid to express it. For Syrah and Amber, ‘visual piety’ also had a deeper meaning. It was not just about an expression of their religious devotion and identity, it was equally important for them to express their individuality and personality through how they dressed. In the way that they dressed, they wanted to represent that they were modern, fashionable and independent women as well as being practicing Muslims.

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Fashionably pious

Amber told me that headscarves now compensated for the self-expression that hairstyling allowed, and therefore different styles of wearing headscarves were becoming very popular. Over time she learned to incorporate style into modest dressing and pinned her headscarf in different ways to make it look elegant. After beginning to wear a headscarf, she became more creative and began experimenting with colour, patterns and texture to achieve different looks and styles. She noted that hijab stylists were becoming more popular: it was a lucrative business and there was a myriad of internet sites dedicated to ‘hijab’ fashion. Attitudes to veiling were shifting not only in Manchester, it seems to be an international phenomenon. For example, in Turkey veiling (wearing a headscarf) was once associated with the poor, elderly, and people from rural areas, but now it is commonplace to see young middle-class urban women adopting the headscarf (Sandikci and Ger 2010: 18). This is an outcome of religious women’s desire to look stylish and elegant without appearing to be sexually alluring, thus making aesthetics and style critical to many women opting to veil (Sandikci and Ger 2010: 27). Maqsood describes how urban middle-class women in Pakistan were conscious of conflating piety and style, covering up without compromising on cutting edge fashion (2014: 98). Similarly, to the Turkish women in Sandikci and Ger’s (2010) study, the Pakistani women in Maqsood’s study were equally conscious of the negative connotations of veiling and did not want to appear backward or uneducated by adopting it (2014: 94 and 96). There seems to be a tendency for urban middle-class women to veil out of choice based on their knowledge and understanding of Islam. Being modern for these women is about economic success coupled with greater religiosity and their understanding of the Quran (Maqsood 2014: 96).

Exploitation of Islamic consumerism has also been noted in Sandikci’s (2011: 246) study of Islamic marketing, and the emergence of a Muslim middle-class means that they possess increased purchasing power. Recognition of this has led to an increased variety of products marketed as ‘Islamic’ and ‘halal’ aimed at Muslim consumers (Sandikci 2011: 250). Maqsood argues that Islamic consumption is also a global

115 phenomenon, and in the US Islam is presented as an ‘attractive alternative’ to American popular culture by Islamic organisations from the 1990s, who were afraid of losing the young generation of American Muslims to American culture (2014: 88). Examples of this include a demand for Islamic media programmes, Muslim lifestyle magazines and Islamic fashion among Muslims in the US (Maqsood 2014: 88).

Fashion was an obstacle for both Amber and Syrah, something they had to negotiate. They felt that their interest in fashion was an indulgent worldly pleasure that distracted them from their faith. Amber mentioned on several occasions that her aim was to do good work in this life, to become closer to God, and not to be distracted by worldly things, in order to secure a better place in the next life.

“We are not here forever and one day we are going to go, and it is our deeds that count and not how we looked on such-or-such-a-day” (Interview, May 2013).

Syrah and Amber also believed that fashion came under vanity, which is a sin according to the religious trajectory they followed. On the other hand, they did not want to detach themselves from wider society, and wanted to feel part of the modern world by investing in their appearance which was critical for their self-esteem and identity, such as their social class position, their image, and the people they associated with. Their friendship enabled them to reconcile the conflicting interests of fashion and piety. They shared tips on how to look fashionable without compromising their religious beliefs. Syrah argued that dressing smartly and fashionably was a positive representation of a Muslim woman and Islam to wider society. She believed that Muslims were ambassadors of their faith and therefore in public their conduct was very important, and was reflected in the way Muslims dressed. Because she veiled, the cut, tailoring and textures of fabrics and accessories were important in putting together an outfit. She wanted to prove to others that a Muslim woman could keep up with current fashion trends without having to bare flesh or wear form-fitting clothes.

To make their faith easier to follow, both Amber and Syrah made compromises and accommodations. For example, instead of choosing to wear an abaya, which they found too restrictive, they imposed certain rules upon themselves about what not to

116 wear, as a reassurance that they were adhering to their religious dress code and faith.28 Furthermore, women-only social events were a great opportunity to forgo veiling and dress as they pleased, because religious restrictions regarding dress code did not apply in the absence of members of the opposite sex. The women made choices about how to dress and to tailor their dress code that not only made them feel comfortable, but also earned them moral capital and recognition from their friends and people they associated with. Amber, Syrah and many other middle-class British- Pakistani women did not see a contradiction between being religious and being modern. For them, it was not a dichotomy between tradition and modernity or between Pakistani and British, but more about having the autonomy to be able to choose between the multifarious possibilities open to them.

An extensive quote from one of my conversations with Amber shows the kinds of negotiations and compromises she made to accommodate her new religious devotion, and how important it was to bring together elements of her life that seemed, at a first glance, incompatible:

“If I am going somewhere religious, I will wear a longer dress than if I was going to a party in a restaurant. At a party I would wear a shorter dress with boots, which to me is pushing the boundary. I dress differently going to the mosque. I was wearing the abaya all through Ramadan when I went to the mosque, and I felt comfortable in it, and maybe because everyone else was also wearing it in the mosque. I am not ready to wear it every day because my husband is totally against it. I couldn’t do something blatantly disregard[ing] for his feeling[s]. I will temper my outfits so it is compatible with the Muslim dress code. I want to incorporate style, fashion that and elegance into what I wear. I don’t want to stop shopping at Topshop or Warehouse and all the places I used to shop, just because I am wearing the hijab. I do have a battle of conscience where I shouldn’t be wearing certain things like leggings with boots and a long top because it is showing the shape of my legs, I wouldn’t go to the mosque wearing this. I feel maybe I am not there where I need to be, where other

28 An abaya is a long loose cloak worn over garments (Ahmad 2008: 70).

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women are that I look at. It is an internal struggle - should I wear this or shouldn’t I? My husband will tell me ‘wear it’ because he thinks there is nothing wrong in what I am wearing. I try to do what he says, but I don’t think what he says is always the right thing. He said I am not looking trendy anymore and I need to sharpen up my wardrobe a bit. You can be fashionable and wear the hijab but there are limits I have set for myself, but everyone’s limits are different. I can’t accept wearing tight skinny jeans and bottom on display with a hijab. But what I wear might not be acceptable to anyone else. It is about your comfort of how you feel wearing something that you feel is appropriate. At women’s only parties, women really dress up because it is an opportunity for them to dress up, because ordinarily no one sees them looking that dressed up and glamorous and it’s an opportunity to really get dressed and there are no guys there so let’s go all out. We all get dressed to the hilt when there are no men around. We will wear what we ordinarily can’t wear. I went out the other day and I wore tight trousers and a short top and I would really never wear that if there were going to be men around. So I was allowed to extend those boundaries more, much more, and you can wear whatever you want basically if in the company of just women. You can wear sleeveless, short skirt, plunging neckline, if it’s just women it doesn’t really matter. All of the women in the group make an effort to dress up when we go out, they will have all made an effort in pretty much their best clothes because we don’t get that many opportunities to do that. So you kind of take advantage of it and enjoy it and let your hair down. You can dress up and not feel any guilt because it’s all women” (Interview, September 2013).

Amber’s comments gave me an insight into her everyday struggle with her conscience, and also her eagerness to accommodate her husband. Her husband did not want Amber to look dowdy, particularly when the people they associated with were always smartly dressed. She was in a perpetual state of flux, finding ways to reconcile her interests and her religious beliefs, not wanting to compromise her love of fashion or to completely disregard her husband’s opinion. The boundaries were very subjective because everyone had their own set of ideas and interpretation how to dress

118 appropriately. Amber knew that according to women who did not wear the hijab, the way she dressed was conservative. But among more religious women at the mosque who wore an abaya, she did not fit their criteria of the Islamic dress code for women.

Although Amber’s friendship with Syrah was based on their love for fashion and similar experiences, their commitment to faith drew their friendship even closer. At times, they were in a quandary over conflicting interests and faith, and by talking through these issues they were both able to reach a resolution. They exchanged religious information they came across with the aim of increasing one another’s understanding of Islam.

Religious classes at the mosque

Amber’s first step in her religious trajectory was to take religious classes. She sought advice from Zenab, a lady she employed to teach her children to read the Quran in Arabic. Zenab had taken many classes at South Manchester Mosque 1, and recommended that Amber should go to the tajwid classes at the same mosque.29 Amber was initially reluctant because she was unfamiliar with the mosque and had never taken a class before, and found the prospect of taking classes at the mosque daunting. She was apprehensive because she did not know whether she would fit in and be accepted by the others.

After meeting Syrah at her children’s primary school, she was pleased to discover that Syrah had already been attending the classes for some months. Being accompanied by someone she knew gave her the confidence to start these classes. The tajwid classes were run by Deena, a British Muslim of Arab descent. Although Deena did not possess any formal training as a theologian, her knowledge of Islam, zeal and commitment to the mosque made her a popular teacher. Amber looked forward to attending Deena’s lessons, which helped her learn a lot about Islam. She respected and trusted Deena’s opinions and looked up to her for religious guidance. Despite Amber’s enthusiasm for Deena, looking up to her as a mentor, she was still in a state of flux. It was early days of

29 Tajwid refers to Quranic recitation (Ahmad 2008: 64).

119 her religious journey and she was eager to fit in without having to conform completely, but did not know how. Amber, like a lot of other women who were on a similar religious quest, was essentially in search of a religious identity that was not a threat to their existing identity; one which enhanced their life and sense of self. The women in my study were trying to reconcile things in their life every day which were paradoxical. It was more complicated for the second generation, who were striving to create a new identity, a British-Pakistani identity that their parents’ generation did not have to because their parents were clearly Pakistani. Amber commented,

“I guess I gave myself into her a little bit. I was desperately in need of some guidance at that time. I started to wear a hijab and I needed to know where I fitted in. When I first put a hijab on I did not know where I fitted in, I did not know if I was that ‘old’ Amber or a ‘new’ Amber” (Interview, January 2013).

As Amber got to know other students and teachers at the mosque, her familiarity motivated her to visit the mosque more often. She was increasingly feeling more involved in the mosque and becoming enmeshed in its community. Amber said she was searching for a new identity because she had embarked on a religious trajectory, and wanted to be associated with religious people who like her had a thirst for religious knowledge. Syrah and Amber passed the exam at the end of the tajwid course and credited one another for motivation and encouragement.

Apart from Syrah, Amber was also good friends with Natasha, Laila, Maya and Iza, who she met at her children’s primary school. They all met up for lunch once a month, which gave them an opportunity to catch up and discuss topics of interests such as their children’s school and academic progress, family matters, holidays, and also religion. Laila also volunteered at South Manchester Mosque 1 and taught a basic class in Islamic studies, as well as attending the same tajwid classes as Amber and Syrah. Amber mentioned that Natasha was very knowledgeable about Islam, and in her spare time read many hadiths as well as other books on Islam. Amber had also explained to me that it was important for Muslims to have many friends within the faith, because when a Muslim dies their soul relies on their many prayers for redemption. She told me that she had recently attended the funeral of her friend and it brought her comfort seeing many mourners at the funeral. It reassured her that this large gathering of

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Muslims was praying with conviction for the soul of her deceased friend. Amber hoped that when her time came, many Muslims would also attend her funeral and pray for the salvation of her soul. Although Amber sought to have more Muslim friends, she believed it was wrong to discriminate on the basis of religion and she knew many non- Muslims whose friendship she cherished. She made it clear that if a person was kind and trustworthy she would like to be their friend, regardless of their religion.

For four months, I accompanied Syrah and Amber to South Manchester Mosque 2 for a weekly two-hour tafsir class that took place from 11am-1pm.30 The class was taught by Hajira, a second-generation British-Pakistani woman. The room in the mosque was arranged like a typical classroom, with rows of desks facing the whiteboard and Hajira’s desk at the front. The class was full, with more than twenty women attending, most of whom seemed to be friends taking the classes together. It was an informal class and Hajira, who was in her early twenties, was very friendly and enthusiastic. She wore a long abaya and a tightly bound headscarf. Most women attending were in their thirties, forties and fifties. Syrah said most were housewives who wanted to learn more about Islam in their spare time, while their children were at school. Some of the women had brought along their infants who sat on their lap while they listened to Hajira’s lecture. The majority of the women attending were British-Pakistanis but there were also a few Arab, Malaysian and African women. Most of the women attending the mosque wore an abaya, apart from Amber and Syrah. Amber and Syrah were used to attending South Manchester Mosque 1 where the women were less conservative about dress code. Those attending South Manchester Mosque 1 liked to conflate piety and style, dress up, accessorise their outfits with handbags and jewellery, and wear subtle makeup to give the allusion of a healthy glow.

The tafsir class was reminiscent of being back at school- the students had saved seats for their friends. Before the class began the women chatted enthusiastically among friends, and talking to other women behind and in front of where they were seated. As Hajira walked in, the women took out their stationery, arranged it neatly in front of them, and sat up straight waiting to be greeted by Hajira. She stood at the front and

30Tafsir refers to Quranic exegesis (Beekers 2014: 83).

121 greeted the class and introduced the topic she would cover in the lesson. The students were handed the first surah from the Quran, in English and Arabic.31 It was a translation by Farhat Hashmi, the Pakistani religious scholar mentioned above who promoted a conservative religious ideology (Siraj 2011: 721). As well as teaching at the mosque, Hajira was a student of Al-Huda International, a religious organisation established by Hashmi, which ran courses and produced religious literature and learning tools (Barbar 2008: 348). Typically, Hajira dedicated the whole lesson to studying one or two paragraphs from the Quran, and referred to various hadiths to explain the meaning and context behind the verses of the Quran, in which she went into great detail.

Hajira was very passionate, and her enthusiasm was contagious among her students. They were mesmerised by her and grabbed on to her every word. Hajira’s approach to teaching was successful because she was friendly and engaging with her students, and encouraged an interactive style of learning where she generated discussion, group work, and questions and answers from her students. In a typical class Hajira used every day examples and scenarios to illustrate her point, and to show how the verses of the Quran were applicable in daily life. For example, in one of the lessons I attended, she highlighted unwitting sins such as buying a soft drink from an off licence, or eating at a restaurant that was also a bar, because this indirectly supported establishments which sold alcohol and the consumption of alcohol was forbidden in Islam. Another of the topics of discussion on one occasion I attended Hajira’s class was the body and soul in relation to death, and how the soul leaves the body in death. Addressing this topic in this particular lesson, there was tenseness in her voice, adding drama by evoking fear in her students as she described this in great detail. The women listened attentively and took notes. Hajira explained that belief in God was not sufficient, because the devil also believed in God, which is why actions and deeds were paramount. In all of Hajira’s lessons she relied on sources from the hadiths. In one of her lessons she explained passages she had taken from the hadith, for example upon death good souls smell sweet and the angels look forward to taking them, whereas bad souls smell repulsive. She discussed the consequences of sin and went into great detail about the journey of

31 Surah refers to a chapter from the Quran.

122 the sinners from death to hellfire. She stated that it was critical to give up worldly gains to entre paradise- it was a choice either to embrace this life or give it up to gain later in the afterlife, and to earn a place in paradise humans had to resist temptations which were from the devil. Hajira explained that ‘zikr’ (worship and remembrance of God) was food for the soul. She emphasised that it was sinful to question or contest Islamic scriptures, backing her argument with a hadith that recalled Prophet Mohammad warning others not to question God or the prophets. She went on to say that God’s commands had wisdom and it was forbidden for humans to challenge this wisdom, though we do not have the capacity to understand it. Hajira stated,

‘If Allah tells us to do something we should do it regardless of it because it is best for us and Allah’s decision is based on wisdom.32 We must not use logic to reason with Allah’s word because we don’t have enough knowledge to understand. We have limited knowledge in comparison to Allah and therefore we must accept Allah’s word’ (March 2013).

This absolutist approach was effective because it dispelled any doubts or conflicting views the students had about what they read in the scriptures. It alluded to the belief that contesting blind faith was the work of the devil. Hands were going up throughout the lesson, and the women were asking Hajira questions not only about the topic they were discussing, but about certain aspects of their daily life. Akin to the teachers at the mosque in Mahmood’s (2005) study, Hajira expected her students to already know and practice the basic performance of religious duties such as the five daily prayers and fasting. The aim of religious classes in Mahmood’s (2005) study, and also in my study, was to teach students to embody religious principles in all aspects of their daily life, reinforcing acts of worship and religious guidance to resolve day to day issues. Beeker (2014: 73) uses the term ‘observant’ to define Muslims and Christians who not only practice their faith, but also incorporate their faith into their everyday life and therefore use faith as moral guidance. I argue that the term ‘observant’ can be somewhat misleading, as it is commonly used for people who practice their faith just as the women who already attend the mosque. I prefer to use the term ‘extensive

32 Teachers at the mosque prefer to use ‘Allah’, the Arabic translation for God, which is in the Quran.

123 religiosity’ because it is not confined to worship, rituals and deeds, but extends itself to other realms of their lives. For instance, the choices and decisions people make are governed by their faith, as opposed to religion working around their life. Interestingly, from what was being taught in many mosques, according to the ‘more religious’ women, adhering to the basic performance of religious duties does not suffice.

Although Hajira’s style of teaching was far from draconian, the content of what she was teaching was very conservative. It was in fact a friendly delivery of an orthodox message. Much of what she was saying was dogmatic, but her gentle and friendly manner made it palatable. In some ways it was reminiscent of the teaching that Mahmood describes as “the carrot and stick”: the ‘carrot’ being the rewards and merits gained for religious observation, and the ‘stick’ being warning of punishment to those who transgress (Mahmood 2005: 10). Thus, the promise of rewards and the fear of hellfire were effective in achieving religious observance and discipline. Hajira’s style of teaching evoked deep emotions such as excitement and fear in her students, which captivated their attention and kept them motivated. Amber and Syrah looked forward to the classes every week, and came out feeling inspired and motivated to better practice their faith. I argue that giving up a few worldly pleasures became a small sacrifice in the scheme of things, when there is much to gain in the hereafter. There was a break during each lesson for afternoon prayers. During prayers, the women stood in a row and prayed together. Meanwhile Hajira occupied the young children, waiting for her turn to pray after the women had finished. Every week the women brought home-baked goods to share with the class during break time. This sharing of food was a way of establishing friendships and a sense of community within the mosque. The mosque served as an alternative community where women felt valued for their Islamic attire of being covered head to toe, and for their zeal for religious knowledge and practice. The mosque was a space where women could express their piety, without the threat of their values being undermined or condemned by non- Muslims. The women were aware that Islamophobia was rife, and most women I spoke to had been the recipients of hostility or negative comments from non-Muslims. Sharing similar experiences, values, concerns and interests gave the women a sense of belonging, acceptance and esteem. The importance of belonging, wellbeing and

124 identity for Muslims living in a secular society has also been addressed by other researchers (Beeker 2014, Mohammad-Arif 2007). Mohammad-Arif’s (2007: 3) study on identity and community formation among South Asians in the US notes that religion serves a cathartic role for those facing hostility or marginalisation in society. Therefore, a mosque for Muslim migrants transcends a place of worship, and is equally important as a place for socialisation and community formation in the same way as synagogues and churches were to other earlier migrants.

The importance of Islam to women

Both South Manchester Mosque 1 and South Manchester Mosque 2 adhered to a similar religious doctrine. The participants in my research told me that this branch of Sunni Islam monopolised most of the Sunni mosques in Britain, and comes from the interpretation of the Quran translated by Farhat Hashmi. In her study of the influence and proliferation of Al-Huda in Pakistan, Ahmad notes that Hashmi promotes Islam as free of cultural influences, and a discourse which condemns everyday pastimes such as watching films, listening to music, or celebrating local cultural festivals on the basis that such activities are ‘un-Islamic’ (Ahmad 2008: 70,72). Hashmi’s conservative brand of Islam started in Pakistan when she created Al-Huda, an Islamic school for women in Islamabad in 1994 (Ahmad 2008: 64), and very quickly her teachings gained popularity throughout Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 67). By 2008 Al-Huda had established its Islamic schools for women in 28 cities across Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 67). More recently, Hashmi has gained popularity among the Pakistani diaspora worldwide through the availability of Al-Huda lectures on DVD and CD in Islamic book shops ad Islamic centres (Shaikh 2013: 70).

Amber and Syrah both said that their love of fashion was distracting them from worship, but that this was something that they were grappling with. More specifically, they were selecting religious values that fitted into their lifestyle, while sacrificing pleasures that they could live without. This strategy enabled both Syrah and Amber to make sense of the conflict of interests and the paradoxes they were faced with. They justified their interests that clashed with their religious interpretation by stating that

125 their journey was a ‘work in progress’ that they were working towards achieving a particular religious goal, such as to eventually give up listening to music or to accomplish reading and understanding certain hadiths. More importantly, these religious goals were not absolute, but something that they were working towards and would perhaps achieve sometime in the distant future.

As much as they found aspects of Farhat Hashmi’s religious narrative inspiring, at the same time Amber and Syrah grappled with certain issues and therefore espoused a more accommodating religious trajectory and rhetoric that appealed to them. They recognised that some of what Hashmi was preaching was unrealistic, and would appear draconian to their children. They did not want to force this upon their children, and were not in favour of taking drastic measures such as banning television, not celebrating birthdays, not visiting restaurants where alcohol was served, or banning music altogether. Meanwhile the women followed some of Hashmi’s rhetoric to feel that they were making some sacrifices. On the face of it, it may appear contradictory that women are voluntarily embracing a dogmatic interpretation of Islam which imposes sanctions on women such as observing a strict dress code. But to its followers, a stricter dress code was not seen as sanction but as the liberation from the commodification of women Mirza (2009: 280).

Amber’s and Syrah’s experience with religion is not uncommon. Other scholars have also pointed out why this interpretation of Islam has so much appeal and is drawing in more and more Muslim women day by day. Most researchers argue that Islam offers middle-class urban Muslim women a way out of the traditional patriarchal culture of their parents’ generation, enabling them to live a more autonomous life. Brown (2006: 420-421), for instance, explains that emancipation, autonomy and the rights of women have drawn women to religious discourse. Silvestri, in her study of Muslim women in Europe, argues that in Europe the image of Muslim women is one which is void of agency, constrained by patriarchal customs and victims of an ‘oppressive and backward’ religion. Silvestri argues that Muslim women possess agency, and among Muslim women in Europe, agency and personal empowerment is manifested through studying the Quran (2011: 1233). Therefore, women had rights in the Quran and the hadiths long before women’s rights were acknowledged in the UK (Silvestri 2011,

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Rinaldo 2014). More importantly, freedom requires ‘own will’ to be able to break away from the constraints and expectations imposed by culture, tradition and society pointed out by Mahmood (2005) in her study of Islamic revivalism in Egypt. Furthermore, women in Brown’s (2006: 420-421) study were eager to separate culture from religion. The religious narrative that they were adhering to granted many rights to women which their cultural background did not acknowledge, and the women claimed that their parent’s culture endorsed values that went against Islamic principles as, for example, women’s rights in Islam were overlooked for cultural reasons. They also defined cultural Islam as cultural values in the guise of Islamic values, arguing that Islam offers women freedom and autonomy that is denied to them through their cultural background. Bhimji (2009: 370) has also highlighted in her study of British Muslim women in Manchester that British-Pakistani women appropriate Islam to support an independent lifestyle. One woman in her study commented that “in Islam it is perfectly acceptable for divorced women to live independently and to study further” (Bhimji 2009: 370). Bolognani (2009: 162), in her study of British-Pakistani women in Bradford, argues that the appeal of Islam for women lies in the fact that Islam offers a freedom of choice and autonomy which is often negated through the cultural interpretation and cultural values of their parents.

In addition to this, Islam offers redemption from cultural or religious transgression through the adoption of visual piety. Bolognani (2009: 162) proposes that stigma is more difficult to overcome via cultural community, whereas an Islamic trajectory offers redemption and a fresh start, and more importantly an opportunity to gain respect and honour through piety. Arguably the women in my research and the research of others were exploiting an interpretation of Islam to contest the patriarchal customs and cultural conventions that their parents adhered to. In this sense, culture, in contrast to religion, especially Islam, is interpreted as the traditional patriarchal values embraced by former generations. However, this also implies an unpractical vision of a ‘pure Islam’.

Kibria (2008: 244), in her study of British-Bangladeshi Muslims, uses the term ‘revivalist Islam’ to describe the growing popularity of Islamic discourses globally which rely on the literal interpretation of scriptures and the inherence of Islamic practice and

127 thought in every aspect of life. Kashyap and Lewis (2012: 2118), in their study of British Muslim youth, also point out that revival of Islam is characterised as being devoid of cultural influences and promoting a global Muslim community.33 Mirza et al (2007) argue that Islamic revivalism is also a backlash against the cultural traditions of parents and focuses greatly on public image such as the wearing of a headscarf to assert a Muslim identity (cited in Kashyap and Lewis 2012: 2118). For instance, espousing a pure Islam, void of culture and non-Islamic practices, legitimises women’s confrontation of patriarchal customs and overcoming certain expectations.34 Clearly, none of the women I spoke to had come across ‘pure Islam’: it existed in theory within the literal interpretation of Islamic scriptures. However, in practice, ‘pure Islam’ did not exist as it was impossible to sieve out all the ‘un-Islamic practices’ which were enmeshed in everyday life. I argue that ‘pure Islam’ was a utopian vision - something in the distance to aspire to, but not necessarily attainable. The women I observed neither adhered to patriarchal values in the same way as previous generations, nor did they try to follow a version of ‘pure Islam’ void of any external influences. Unlike their parents’ generation, education and socio-economic mobility opened up choices and gave them experiences that enabled them to think critically about the kind of religiosity they would follow. Consequently, they selected aspects of their faith that appealed to them, and that amassed them both cultural and moral capital about being a good Muslim.

In Bolognani and Mellor’s (2012: 217-218) study of Muslim identity among British- Pakistani women, women exploit Islam as a tool for empowerment, using religious rhetoric to garner greater rights for women. Mohammad’s research on marriage practices among British-Pakistani Muslim women shows that, according to South Asian tradition, a bride’s happiness and wellbeing rests on her ability to conform to the norms and practices of her husband and his family (2015: 8). Within South Asian tradition, girls from a young age are discouraged from forming attachment to their natal home, because their belonging and destiny is with their in-laws. British-Pakistani women are empowering themselves through religious rhetoric to contest these patriarchal practices. Although many of the women I observed had fulfilled certain

33 My interlocutors use the term ‘cultural influences’ to refer to patriarchal cultural influences and cultural obligations such as taking care of in-laws. 34 ‘Non-Islamic practices’ refers to the celebration of local and cultural festivals.

128 patriarchal duties imposed on them by their parents’ culture, such as fulfilling certain obligations to in-laws, these expectations were not passed down to their younger siblings or the next generation. Among their generation, British-Pakistani women witnessed many changes in certain cultural expectations. I will discuss this exploitation of religious rhetoric to challenge patriarchal customs and expectations in greater detail in the following chapter.

From what I was told by my interlocutors, Farhat Hashmi contested patriarchal customs, which garnered interest among her listeners. They told me that her religious narrative was motivational and amassed a myriad of followers. Amber explained that her lectures underpinned that a woman’s duty was to her parents and not to her in- laws. Duty to in-laws, Hashmi argues, was a cultural obligation with no religious foundation. This resonated with many of her followers who had cultural obligations to their in-laws, but were armed with religious knowledge to educate their in-laws and husbands who could not challenge divine orders. It justified their position as independent modern women who should not be spending so much time morally compelled to take care of in-laws. This emancipation resonated in Amber’s statement:

“I feel now I have discovered the true meaning of Islam. It’s liberated me from the feelings of guilt that I had in the beginning. I am living my life free of guilt because before was having to live up to my husband’s expectation of taking care of his parents. Now I believe if I do it is something good and I will get rewarded for it, if I don’t won’t lose anything, I am not a bad person. My husband has started to come around to that idea as well that it’s not actually my job as the daughter-in-law, which is what culture has always dictated. He must have checked up on the facts himself after we discussed them” (Interview, January 2013).

Amber highlighted that women who were entering marriage now did not face the same challenges as previous generations:

“Things are changing now because people are more aware of Islam and their duties. At Al-Huda a lot of them are mothers-in-law that are learning things they didn’t know when they first got their children married, and they are

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realising now that they are not meant to have that control over the daughter- in-law that they thought they had. And there is a new generation of girls who are discovering Islam and they realise they don’t have to live with in-laws and don’t have to look after them. That’s now widespread” (Interview, January 2013).

She went on to say,

“If I do it it’s a reward for me but it won’t be something I will be questioned about. Now I know my duties towards my own parents and to look after them and if they ask me to do something I have to do it. But if my mother- and father-in-law ask us as a couple to do something I am not obliged to do it whereas my husband is. They are not my parents, I am not responsible to look after them, that’s their son’s job” (Interview, January 2013).

From what I have been told by my participants, the first generation of British- Pakistanis were taught that women belonged in their husband’s family once they got married. They were socialised with this idea from a young age as many grew up seeing their own mothers as dutiful daughters–in-law, taking care of their husband’s family. It seemed to me that among the previous generation of Pakistani women, patriarchal expectations were hard-wired into them, and it was only very recently through religious rhetoric that women were able to contest these values. Farhat Hashmi’s narrative appealed to women because not only did it grant freedom from patriarchal customs, but her narrative helped her followers to clarify moral expectations and deal with every-day dilemmas such as the struggle of balancing a career and raising children. Instead of having to make difficult decisions, the women felt that the right decision was already made for them by Hashmi. Hashmi’s rhetoric offered women moral reprieve from their concerns. For example, Amber, as did many of the women I spoke to, felt the pressure of working and raising a family. They socialised among people who valued independent working women and they also subconsciously measured other women on their credentials such as their work experience, status or profession. Amber explained that Hashmi’s teachings did not support women pursuing a career and working outside the home. While Hashmi did challenge some aspects of patriarchy, such as discouraging women from living with in-laws or having a duty or

130 obligation to care for in-laws, she asserted that the home was the domain of women and their religious obligation was to nurture their children and to give them religious guidance. Amber mentioned that women were encouraged to seek domestic help to free up time to increase their religious knowledge. It was also the religious duty of women to care for their own parents.

Amber first heard of Farhat Hashmi in 2002, around the time that Hashmi was gaining popularity and a following in Manchester. At that time, Amber was not particularly religious and did not pay much attention to the euphoria surrounding this religious scholar. Nabila, the woman who made Hashmi such a phenomenon among many British-Pakistanis in Manchester, was a friend of Amber’s mother. When both Amber and her brother’s wife Zeenat gave birth to their first child, Nabila visited Amber’s mother’s house bearing gifts for the new mothers and their first-borns. On this occasion, Nabila invited them to a religious gathering at her home. Amber attended a few gatherings with her mother and brother’s wife but did not find it particularly appealing because she was not on a religious trajectory at the time. These informal gatherings hosted by Nabila were gaining in popularity and causing a stir among the British-Pakistani women who were invited. She was using material written by Hashmi and also playing pre-recoded lecturers of Hashmi at her gatherings. Due to the demand for and popularity of Hashmi’s work, Nabila started giving lectures in community centres, and eventually began teaching Al-Huda Islamic courses at a mosque in Manchester. The courses were at first only available in Urdu, later becoming available in English for the second-generation British-Pakistanis and British Muslims. Amber said that Nabila was a good spokesperson for Hashmi’s literature because she was highly educated, well spoken, confident and smart.

Shaikh (2013: 66) describes, in her study on the popularity of Al-Huda International, how Farhat Hashmi established the Al-Huda School of Islamic Studies in 1994. Al-Huda introduced a one-year diploma course at first and, by 2003/04, Al-Huda was offering a two-year diploma course geared towards housewives in Pakistan so they could study three hours a day from home while their children were at school. These courses taught the hadith, tajwid (Quranic recitation), fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence), biography of Prophet Mohammad, tafsir, and Islamic history (Ahmad 2008: 64). Barbar (2008: 348)

131 claims that the mission of Al-Huda was to capture the attention of professional and urban middle-class Pakistanis, and to steer them to follow Hashmi’s trajectory. The same courses were introduced in many mosques in the UK in both Urdu and English, aimed at British Muslims more widely, rather than only Pakistanis. According to Amber, Hashmi’s Ai-Huda courses have had a huge impact of the British-Pakistani community in Manchester and its popularity has led many British-Pakistanis to become devout Muslims.

The phenomenon of Farhat Hashmi

I heard a lot about Farhat Hashmi from those who attended Hajira’s classes at South Manchester Mosque 2. She seemed like a celebrity. Hajira encouraged her class to read Hashmi’s literature and also to enrol on one of her courses taught at many mosques, including South Manchester Mosque 2. Hashmi came from a religious background: her father was a prominent religious scholar in Pakistan. She was born and raised in Pakistan, and also met her husband at university in Pakistan while they were both studying theology (Mushtaq 2010: 3).

I had been looking forward to Farhat Hashmi’s visit to Manchester. In my mind, I had an enigmatic image of this scholar because she seemed to be the talk of the town among the women I was interviewing. Amber and Syrah were eagerly anticipating her visit and Laila, Farah and Malia were also planning to attend her lecture along with many of their friends from South Manchester Mosque 1. Amber’s mother and some of her mother’s friends were also planning to go, as they were taking the Al-Huda course in Urdu through the mosque. After gaining international recognition among first- generation Pakistani migrants, Hashmi’s work had been translated into English to target the second generation.

Amber explained,

“If you are religious, you look like a practicing Muslim, meaning you wear a hijab and really modest clothes, it’s kind of like do you go to Farhat Hashmi? It’s kind of like expected, it’s the next step. Objective of the course is the message

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of Islam is spread and we understand the words that we are reading in the Quran and we all come together and join as one. They can share their commonalities and what they believe together. It is obviously her interpretation of the Quran. It’s not word by word translation, when you go there it is a set of beliefs or an interpretation of verses of the Quran. Her opinion is therefore accepted as the correct opinion. She is quite revered and trusted by all the members of the community, especially the ones who go there, they don’t question her. It talks about a verse from the Quran and talks about the background of what happened when that verse was revealed. You get to know the background which is quite useful, and helps you understand the context in which the Quran was revealed when you read it. To truly understand that Quran you truly have to know the context in which it all happened. The Quran is a response to something that happened. You learn that and they teach you the word by word translation, they will break down the word and give you the root word” (Interview, September 2013).

Due to the demand for and popularity of Farhat Hashmi, her lectures in Manchester were extended to three consecutive days. It was a women-only event as Hashmi supported gender segregation in public meetings and only addressed female audiences (Mushtaq 2010: 4). The lectures were hosted at the British Muslim Heritage Centre. This was an impressive Grade II-listed building set in extensive grounds in the mostly middle-class neighbourhood of Whalley Range. The building was originally the Lancashire Independent College, a theological college built in 1843 to train ministers for the Congregational church (British Muslim Heritage Centre BMHC, n.d.).

Amber, Syrah and I decided to attend the lecture on the first day, and I picked them both up on the morning of the lecture. Both Amber and Syrah wore long overcoats because they knew it would be a conservative gathering. I also wore a long coat and carried a scarf to cover my head before entering the venue, even though I do not normally wear the hijab. Syrah was more cheerful and animated than usual: she had been looking forward to attending this lecture for a long time. It was a twenty-five- minute journey to the lecture and on the way Syrah spoke about her faith, and I was

133 very interested in understanding Syrah’s views on Islam. Devotion was critical to her, which made it easier to adhere to her faith. She explained,

“If you love Allah you would want to strive for him and the more devout you are to Allah, the more you want to follow your faith with precision” (Interview, October 2013).

She illustrated her statement with an analogy of friendship and hospitality:

“The more you liked a friend the more effort you would make to cook them a nice meal. Therefore, we have to put effort in our religion to show our love and devotion to Allah” (Interview, October 2013).

Syrah was passionate about dawah (proselytising), and its salience among Muslims has been discussed by many scholars. Mahmood (2005) explains that the spread of religious knowledge is called dawah, and its aim is to invite, call, or summon people to the teachings of Islam, and that dawah is pivotal in Islamic revival discourses, making it incumbent upon women to preach. Michael (2011: 220), in her study of young British Muslims, argues that dawah is inherent to the discourse of Islamic revivalism which requires every Muslim to be committed to spreading Islam. Mahmood (2005: 65) notes the importance of preaching with passion and sincerity from the Quran and Sunnah only for the purpose of pleasing God and not for one’s self-promotion.35 Syrah said it was the duty of Muslims to spread the word of Islam to non-Muslims, quoting a hadith stating that God punished a man who was a practicing Muslim but did not spread the good of Islam to the community who were not Muslims:

“He was punished because he was selfish by keeping the goodness for himself and not spreading it to save others from the torment of hellfire. Islam was originally spread through ‘dawah’ – Muslims enlightening others through Islamic knowledge” (Interview, October 2013).

35 The Sunnah refers to the practices of Prophet Mohammad and his companions (Mahmood 2005: 46).

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Syrah explained that she practiced dawah in a subtle way with non-Muslims, by initiating a conversation that would lead to religion, sparking an interest and curiosity in Islam:

“For example, it may be something very trivial but at least it opens up an opportunity to discuss Islam with the vision of imparting knowledge to the other person” (Interview, October 2013).

Dawah was central to Farhat Hashmi’s cause, and women were able to perform this duty through social gatherings. Although dawah is usually directed at non-Muslims, it is also encouraged by piety movements such as mosques to urge Muslims to spread Islamic knowledge among their own religious community.

Dawah through social events was becoming very popular and widespread among many of the women with whom I did research. Amber, Syrah and her friend led very busy lives and felt guilty engaging in idle activities in their free time, because that time could be dedicated to worship or increasing their religious knowledge. To overcome this issue, many women within their social circle hosted lunches followed by a religious talk. This way the women felt they put their time to good use through worship and consolidating their faith, with the added bonus of getting together and socialising with friends. Amber stated that practically every week she would receive an invitation to someone’s house for lunch and to attend a religious talk, with about 30-40 acquaintances and friends being invited to each event. Amber found larger, less intimate gatherings, such as the Ladies’ Night I described in Chapter 3, distracting because they were more about socialising than religious knowledge. Women were dressed up at these events, were observing who had been invited, and chatted with their friends, which according to Amber defeated the purpose of religious gatherings.

When we arrived at the British Muslim Heritage Centre, there was a large queue of cars waiting to get through the entrance to the carpark. There were several parking attendants ushering cars and directing people where to park. Once we parked we saw several coachloads of women who had come to attend the lecture. British-Pakistani women of all ages were arriving. A lot of women had come with their mothers, aunts and mothers-in-law. Syrah told me that women had come from Bradford, and also

135 from as far as Glasgow. We followed signs to a side entrance and waited in line to go up a narrow staircase to the first floor. Although the building itself was grand from the outside, inside was bare, with cream walls and parquet flooring.

The room in which Farhat Hashmi’s lecture was to be held was a large hall, and was fully packed with over 300 women. There were rows of chairs set up in the hall for the guests to be seated. The overspill led to the two other adjoining rooms being opened, which also became packed very quickly. In the two adjoining rooms, there were rugs laid out on the floor to sit on and a few chairs for women who found it too difficult to sit on the floor. There was a large TV screen attached to the wall in both adjoining rooms so Hashmi’s lecture could be watched by the women who were unable to find a seat in the lecture hall. All the women had their heads covered and many wore abayas. The older women wore shalwar kameez and some women opted to wear a long tunic or cardigan over jeans.36 Those who could not fit into any of the rooms had to stand and listen from the corridor. For the first hour, we listened to pre-recorded lectures by Hashmi, as she had not yet arrived. I found it very difficult to understand as the recordings were in Urdu. After an hour, a speaker introduced Hashmi on stage and the audience gasped in awe as they watched her long-anticipated arrival on the large screen. She greeted the audience and then recited a few Quranic prayers and translated them into Urdu sentence by sentence. She spoke about the devotion and love for God, stating,

“We should worship Allah to save ourselves from the enemy – the devil who tries to seduce us. The more knowledgeable we are on faith the greater the devil tries to weaken our faith” (October 2013).

I heard women mumbling to one another in agreement and nodding their heads as they held on to her every word. After her speech on worship and devotion to God, she dedicated the next ten minutes to communal prayer. The audience cupped their hands in prayer. She prayed in Urdu for guidance, for good health and for the infirm, then prayed for those without faith, that Allah guides them, and they eventually become closer to Allah, and begged for mercy, forgiveness and blessings. She cried as she

36 Shalwar kameez is a traditional Pakistani dress

136 begged for redemption. I looked around and saw tears rolling down the faces of the women around me. I whispered to Amber, asking her why everyone was crying. Amber explained that it was because praying with conviction and with humility evoked strong emotions, because of the realisation that we were mere mortals, not invincible, and most importantly because of Allah’s mercy. She said that by showing humility, we earned Allah’s mercy and love and the realisation of Allah’s greatness brought tears to people’s eyes.

Amber noted that the recently established mosques in the suburbs were presenting a friendly and approachable image to their worshippers and the surrounding neighbourhoods.37 She explained that these suburban mosques were the antithesis of traditional mosques in urban enclaves, which had a reputation for being draconian, and run by maulvis of South Asian heritage, taking control and promoting a cultural interpretation of Islam.38 The newer mosques were inclusive of different cultural backgrounds and the sermons were in English to cater to the ethnic diversity of their congregations. According to Amber, the more recently established mosques in the suburbs were run by educated middle-class people. As mentioned earlier, both South Manchester Mosque 2 and South Manchester Mosque 1 endorsed Farhat Hashmi’s literature. Akin to the teachings of the suburban mosques, Hashmi’s interpretation of Islam was free of cultural influences (Ahmad 2008: 72). Furthermore, her credentials and teaching style resonated among the professional classes. Hashmi’s symbolic capital added to her influence and credibility (Mustaq 2010: 6), and she gained a doctorate in Islamic Studies from the University of Glasgow (Shaikh 2013: 67). Her intellect and her ability to be analytical and rational, and to use science and logic in her arguments added weight to her narrative, making her an influential figure, particularly among her audience who were educated. In addition to this, her language skills were impressive, as she had the ability to switch seamlessly between Urdu, English and Arabic (Mustaq 2010: 11). It was Hashmi’s credentials, her qualifications, reasoning

37 In Chapter 2 I illustrated the ways in which South Manchester Mosque 1 has engaged with the local community and also with its congregation to make the mosque the hub of the community, a place of socialisation as well as worship. 38 A maulvi is generally a lower class male religious cleric (Shaikh: 2013).

137 and manner that gave her an edge over the maulvis, gaining her popularity among the elite and professional classes.

Farhat Hashmi was a charismatic, articulate and influential speaker because of her ability to connect with her audience (Mustaq 2010). Barbar (2008) in her study of the popularity of Al-Huda in Pakistan, argues that Hashmi drew on the personal experiences of her audience and raised topics of interest to her audience, and this earned her a strong following. This radical approach gained her popularity as it is something the maulvis could not and did not do (Barbar 2008: 356). Her message resonated with her followers because it was as if she was speaking directly to them. One woman stated that “she spoke at your own intellectual level…somebody you could relate to” (Mushtaq 2010: 4). Khan (2004) notes that Hashmi’s popularity also rests on the fact that her rhetoric is so different from that of the maulvis who dwell on the hellfire, whereas Hashmi reiterates the importance of God’s mercy and forgiveness (Mushtaq 2010: 4). The presentation of Hashmi as an alternative to the maulvis has earned her popularity in Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 63). However, in Pakistan the maulvis view Hashmi with disdain as they see her as a threat to their patriarchal values, and also as encroaching on their territory. They argue that women are being misled by her rhetoric and, as a consequence, are becoming assertive and challenging patriarchal customs, which has created marital problems for some women whose husbands do not want to upset the status quo of patriarchy in Pakistan (Shaikh 2013: 82).

Syrah believed that Farhat Hashmi’s message was the truth and those who doubted her had a hidden agenda- either they felt she was a threat to their authority or were lapsed Muslims, unwilling to accept the truth. It was interesting how Hashmi’s rhetoric garnered ardent supporters, but not all blindly followed her. Syrah said:

“I don’t think she is militant, because my sister was trying to put me off her, because she said everyone who becomes a follower starts wearing a niqab.39 But what she says is no different from what I have already heard. She is a threat to the maulvis in Pakistan because she tells them that in Islam nobody has a position of power. The maulvis like that position of power, people flocking to

39 The niqab is a veil covering the face.

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them and listening to them. She says that there is no one between you and Allah. She is here to give a proper message out there, and it’s up to you what you get from it. I have not heard her say anything wrong and I’ve heard quite a few lectures of hers. You take your own interpretation from her as well. If you listen to her, she does touch a chord. She must be saying something right, she’s got such a following. Those who are too Westernised and aren’t practicing, and those who are threatened by her such as the maulvis are against her” (Interview, October 2013).

Half way into the lecture, I was becoming uncomfortable from sitting on the floor, which was giving me pins and needles. I was also feeling very hot with the large number of people present in the room, although the windows were open, and it was a crisp autumn day. Following the prayer, there was a graduation ceremony for the students who had passed the Al-Huda course. The graduates were seated at the front near the stage, and wore black abayas with peach coloured headscarves. One by one, Farhat Hashmi read out the names of the graduates, and each graduate had their hand shaken and was presented with a certificate by Hashmi, who stood on the stage. The audience applauded the graduates as they collected their certificates and then walked back to their seats.

There was a twenty-minute break. Volunteers at the British Heritage Centre served complementary refreshments to the visitors: cold bottles of water, dates, and warm samosas. The break was also an opportunity for the people who were sitting on the floor to stretch their legs, and also to observe afternoon prayers. Some women volunteered to stand outside to let those who had been in the corridors have the opportunity to see the screen, rather than only hearing the event on the loud speakers. Women chatted to one another, expressing how much they were enjoying the event.

After the break, Farhat Hashmi introduced Nabila on stage. Nabila was responsible for promoting Al-Huda International in Manchester. She described how Hashmi’s vision was to spread Islam from the top down, starting with the elite in Pakistan who were renowned to be secular, to convert those in power and the elite and to have their influence filtered down to the middle-classes. Consequently, more and more people in

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Pakistan were turning their back on a hedonistic lifestyle and embracing Islam. Similarly, the mosque movement in Egypt was also in response to the ‘secularisation’ and ‘westernisation’ of Egyptian society. Its aim was to reach ordinary Muslims, to inculcate them with Islamic knowledge. Although the movement did not target elites like Hashmi, it shared the same purpose, which was to reclaim Islam so that it becomes central in the everyday lives of people in society (Mahmood 2005: 4).

Nabila spoke about growing up in Karachi, Pakistan in the 1960s. At the ladies’ college where she studied, other students were moving away from their religion, and espousing secular values and looking to the West for inspiration. This rejection of piety upset Nabila, and she wished that one day she would witness the opposite, women eschewing secularism in favour of Islam. Her eyes welled up and her voice quivered as she declared “this is the day I have been anticipating all my life”. The women clapped euphorically. The atmosphere was charged with a lot of emotion and excitement. Women were glued to the screens, holding onto every word and emotion.

Nabila then praised the graduates of the Al-Huda, and encouraged those who had not taken the course to do so. She stated that family commitments and taking care of young children were mere excuses, and women had succeeded with the Al-Huda programme in exceptional circumstances because they put their faith in Allah. Courses run by Al-Huda International involved learning the translation of the Quran from Arabic to English or Arabic to Urdu. There were also informal and shorter Al-Huda courses available at many mosques, but this more comprehensive course was encouraged. Nabila explained that Allah would help women to increase their religious knowledge and to succeed in learning. She reiterated the point of divine intervention, to have faith in Allah. To further encourage women to take the course, she introduced several graduates on stage who shared their experiences of learning and how the course had enlightened them.

The first few graduates spoke in Urdu, as they were born and raised in Pakistan and had taken the course in Urdu. The first graduate stepped on stage to share her trials and tribulations while embarking on the three-year Al-Huda course from which she graduated with honours. She described her difficulty in committing to this course with a four-month-old baby. She faced greater challenges later as it was more difficult to

140 study with a toddler and childcare was not available, meaning she had to take her child to the classes with her. She was often exhausted with the commitments of housework, study and a child but her prayers and faith in Allah got her through the course. She stressed to the audience,

“Do not let children discourage you from getting closer to Allah, because children are a blessing from Allah and they should not stop you from reaching your goal” (October 2013).

The audience was mesmerised and in awe of her achievements, and the women around me whispered to one another at how inspirational this woman was. They were overwhelmed by this woman’s dedication, diligence and faith. Another graduate stepped on stage to share her experience. She was an older woman in her late sixties or early seventies, she told the audience that it was divine intervention that enabled her to succeed. She believed that the odds were against her, as she battled cancer and heart failure while taking the course. In between her chemotherapy appointments, her husband took her to her classes at the mosque. It was also the love and encouragement of her fellow students at the mosque that gave her the will to continue with the course amidst serious health issues. She eventually completed the course and was now in remission from cancer. Tears rolled down the women’s faces as they listened to such poignant stories of faith, hardship and perseverance. They were jubilant listening to women who offered such inspiration.

Other women who spoke about their experiences were second-generation British- Pakistani. One of the women claimed that she had not been religious and prior to enrolling on the course she had been a successful career woman. It was only when she went on hajj that she became more devout and had re-evaluated her life. She left her job to enrol with Al-Huda, which she claimed was more important to her than her career, other worldly pursuits and status. After learning more about her faith, she understood why people were overcome with emotion when they heard the Quran, because it was so evocative and profound. She read out a poem she had written herself, inviting people to ‘come to the Quran’. In the poem, she spoke of how career was not important and will not fulfil you, and it was better to invest in the afterlife. She said that the devil was distracting ‘us’ from faith and calling ‘us’ to focus on this world

141 while Allah was calling ‘us’ to the Quran: who do we listen to? She warned the audience not to be pre-occupied with this life because it is a temporary existence, unlike the afterlife, and our goal should be to do pious deeds to earn a place in heaven.

For the students and graduates of Al-Huda, sharing their knowledge and promoting the course to others was part of their learning. Students of Al-Huda were encouraged to share their knowledge among friends and family and to host weekly religious gatherings (Ahmad 2008: 65). The aim of Al-Huda was to educate women to enable them to pass on this religious knowledge (dawah) and enlighten their children, household, and communities such as neighbourhood and workplace, or even one-to- one. According to Farhat Hashmi, women are the bedrock of the family and the community, and knowledge can be mobilised through women in this way (Shaikh 2013: 69 and 73). Women acquire agency through religious knowledge and the transmission of religious knowledge to others (Shaikh 2013: 71).

Before the event came to a close, Farhat Hashmi stepped off stage to greet everyone individually in the audience. Amber and Syrah were glued to the screen watching her work the room, eagerly anticipating meeting her face to face. Amber said that Hashmi possessed ‘noor’, and Syrah nodded in agreement.40 They were inspired by these stories and felt it an invigorating experience to be surrounded by so many people dedicated to faith, which filled them with pride and the motivation to learn more about their faith. They both thought about becoming students of Al-Huda in the foreseeable future. While the women were waiting to meet Hashmi, I watched Amber and Syrah greeting people they knew and sharing with them their enthusiasm for this experience. The women in the room were brimming with excitement and stood up as soon as Hashmi entered. All the women including Amber and Syrah shook hands with Hashmi, and thanked her for sharing her knowledge and bringing people closer to God.

On our drive back home, Amber and Syrah shared their feelings about the event. They had not expected such a high turnout. Syrah said that the event was very informative, that Farhat Hashmi’s message resonated with her because she was eloquent in encapsulating the essence of Islam and what it meant to be a Muslim. She recalled:

40 ‘Noor’ is a term meaning radiance/light in Arabic and Urdu.

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“the conditions of being a Muslim are Imaam (faith), Iqlas, your conduct and deeds are for the love of Allah and any good that you do, on the day of judgment, when you stand in front of Allah, every moment of your life on earth is played in front of you like a film and if you done a good deed and if it was to show off it would be rejected… Iqlas Allah purifies you, so for Allah to purify a believer he will put them through a test – it could be a test of their faith, an illness, losing a loved one or money and if you still stay strong and keep your faith and believe what you have endured is from Allah, and that is your form of purification. If you do not deal with the misfortunes with patience and cry ‘why this has happened to me’, it shows your faith is faltered and you are not purified. The third component of faith was Sunnah and if you don’t do things according to the Sunnah your faith is in vain”. (Interview, October 2013).

Syrah was emphasising that Imaam, Iqlas and Sunnah were three conditions of faith. The brand of Islam promoted by Farhat Hashmi struck a chord with Syrah. Much of what was said in the lecture resonated with her own life and experiences, helping her to make sense of her life and her surroundings. An important aspect of Al-Huda training is to become less materialistic, to increase consciousness of God, and striving for patience by becoming less despairing when troubled, because misfortune is a test of resilience that measures people’s devotion to God and their faith in divine intervention (Ahmad 2008: 70), and it was this that was appealing to countless Muslim women. Faith offered hope if not in this life, then definitely in the hereafter. It also provided comfort in times of misfortune and grief. Within this religious trajectory, adversity could be viewed as a blessing, an opportunity to be absolved from sin through perseverance and endurance of faith.

Conclusion

Friendships based on faith were critical to many women I met in the field, as such friendships established a sense of belonging and religious camaraderie. Women depended on friendships for religious guidance and support, and to overcome religious dilemmas such as how to dress, how to interpret certain texts, to find out which

143 scholars were reliable, and to deal with their own conflicts with certain religious viewpoints. Mosques and religious gatherings were not only places of worship, but places to make new friends, celebrate their religious identity, and amass capital and recognition for their religious knowledge and participation. Socialising with other Muslims created a ‘feel good factor’ about being Muslim, particularly when these women lived in a climate of Islamophobia, within a society which did not place importance on faith.

From my attendance at Farhat Hashmi’s lecture and through my observations in the religious classes at the mosque, I noticed that women were being inculcated with the narrative that this life was a portal to eternity, and forbearance, patience, discipline and faith were qualities that secured a place in paradise. Amber and Syrah believed that worldly pursuits were obstacles that diverted humans from their actual goals of eternal bliss in the afterlife. Therefore, followers of Hashmi did not view their faith as restrictive or burdensome, because in the greater scheme of things secular values and lifestyle were distractions preventing them from achieving their ultimate goal.

The trajectory of Farhat Hashmi and similar scholars was appealing because it made sense of hardship and misfortune. This is what drew Amber to a path of greater religiosity. Initially, she turned to religion to fill a cathartic role in her life, but the more knowledge she acquired, the more she wanted to find out. Steps towards increased piety led to ‘innate religiosity’ for many women and faith became a way of life rather than a ritual or something they turned to in times of need. There was much to gain from this religious trajectory which was becoming increasingly popular. Islam was not only a goal to obtain a better place in the hereafter, it offered a myriad of benefits in this life too. Islam served as a tool for empowerment, particularly to challenge patriarchal customs that were inherent to their cultural identity.

However, it was unrealistic for the women to follow every word and example written in the religious scriptures. To get around this issue, the women adhered to aspects that were easy to incorporate into their life, and also to ‘sacrifice’ a few pleasures as a token for their devotion and adherence to their faith giving them a ‘feel good factor’. There were some aspects of their faith which conflicted with their existing interests such as their taste for fashion, career, status, popular culture, lifestyle and identities.

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They overcame this problem by making the intention to become more observant after gaining more knowledge, knowing that it would take many years to acquire such in- depth religious knowledge. This intention, in itself, had value for them. Therefore, for most of the women in my study, religion did not mean an absolute and fixed idea they had to comply with blindly. It meant a journey of discovery, inspiration and a pursuit for contentment where they could be comfortable in their multiple identities.

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Chapter 5. A dutiful daughter-in-law

Introduction

In the first three chapters, I focussed on belonging and recognition through friendships established through the shared experiences, values and interests of those sharing British-Pakistani and Muslim identities and religion. The previous chapters also illustrated that friendships are important for amassing social, cultural and symbolic capital. Each relationship serves a purpose for the women in my research, and in this chapter and the next I focus on the pivotal role of family not only as a means of belonging, but also as a way to amass moral capital and agency. Among my participants, family has also been critical in instilling the values and prevailing identities that have been discussed in the previous chapters.

For the women in my research, family meant a closeness that is created through a mixture of obligation and love, not only between kin but also between affine. This chapter highlights the specific relationship that women developed with their in-laws, underpinning the relationship between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law and the significance of the role of a ‘dutiful daughter-in-law’ in Pakistani culture. Unlike marriages in Western societies where spouses are meant to take care of each other and their children, marriage in Pakistani culture involves a chain of caring and responsibility, firstly between the son and his parents, and in turn between daughters- in-law and parents-in-law. Therefore, it is critical in Pakistani culture for a son to marry a woman who will be a good daughter-in-law to his parents (Jibeen and Hynie 2012; Rytter 2010a; and Werber 1990). Although women’s views regarding their obligations to their in-laws was beginning to change, as discussed in the previous chapter, the second-generation women in my study were still very much involved with the family relationships and expectations implied in their role as daughters-in-law.

Early on in their marriage, most of the women I spoke to had carried out the obligation of establishing a relationship with their in-laws. Some of the women still lived with in- laws, while others had lived with their in-laws for the first few years of marriage, or had been expected to live under the authority of their in-laws early on in their

146 marriage. Even if they now lived with their own nuclear family, they were not absolved from obligations to their in-laws. This meant that they observed the pattern of family hierarchy where the mother-in-law had significant influence over the decision-making and life of the daughter-in-law. According to many of the women I spoke to, putting the needs of their in-laws above their own and of their parents and siblings was pivotal in the early years of marriage. During this period, they had to invest a lot in building relations with in-laws and to work very hard to earn their respect. The husbands also expected his wife to be respectful and obedient to his parents, as his loyalty lay with his family and not with his wife’s, so building ties with in-laws was imperative in establishing a strong marital relationship.

Looking back, most of the women I spoke to had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, they harboured resentment towards their in-laws because it made what was supposed to be a blissful period of one’s life, the early years of marriage, quite stressful; hampered by having to observe this cultural obligation and constantly having one’s behaviour judged. On the other hand, they argued that with hindsight this was a tradition that they would like to pass down to the next generation because it instilled certain values such as respect for elders, respect for family and the importance of a close-knit family.

Family hierarchies

Marriage expectations among Pakistanis are very different in comparison to the idea of marriage that prevails in most Western cultures. It is worth looking at the work of scholars that give insight into these differences, also found in my own study. Shaw (2000) looks in great depth into the role of and expectations on daughters-in-law in her study of British-Pakistanis living in Oxford. Although her research took place over 30 years ago, with predominantly working-class first-generation British-Pakistanis, some of issues that Shaw raises in her study resonates with my own research. Shaw (2000: 94) draws attention to the fact that British-Pakistani women seldom have a choice in their roles as a daughter, daughter-in-law, mother and mother-in- law. Each member of the family has a designated role, which are strongly defined by gender and age. In

147 their study of Canadian-Pakistanis in Toronto, Jibeen and Hynie (2012) show that the family structure obeys a hierarchy in which older members have power over younger women, for example a new bride is usually under the authority of her mother-in-law and must also be subservient to her father-in-law, older brothers-in-law and their wives, and also to older sisters-in-law. Although at times some obligations to her in- laws are resented by the bride, these obligations must take precedence because they garner respect and recognition from elders, which is why it is not worth the risk of neglecting the expectations of a dutiful daughter-in-law, and being dishonoured as a consequence. Being a young daughter-in-law, my interlocutors emphasised, requires patience and perseverance. Akin to South Asian culture, Song and Zhang’s (2012) study of marriage and in-laws in China also note that in Chinese culture, older family members such as the mother-in-law amass greater status and power than younger family members such as the daughter-in-law. Senior members of the family who have lived up to their duties, responsibilities, and the expectations upon them are the ones who are able to garner power and recognition.

Rytter (2013: 94), in his study of Pakistani migrants in Denmark, states that within a patrilocal system newly married couples reside with the groom’s parents. A patrilocal system promotes family hierarchies and establishes that the daughter-in-law must be subservient to her mother in-law until she obtains power upon reaching the status of a mother-in-law herself, allowing her to assert authority over her own daughter-in-law. The success of this system rests on the fact that women are aware that the sacrifices they make are not in vain, as they come to fruition once they themselves become a mother-in-law and hence acquire a position of respect, power and authority (Rytter 2010a: 55). However, the women in my study did not have to wait until becoming a mother-in-law. Power was earned gradually through gaining the trust, respect and recognition from in-laws, when they were no longer strangers to one another. Over the years, daughters-in-law gradually garner autonomy and authority, and have a greater role in managing the household she shares with in-laws and in decision-making involving family matters (Shaw 2000: 95). This was unequivocal in my research and the research conducted by other scholars in recent years on Pakistani migrants (Jibeen and Hynie 2012; Rytter 2010a, 2012, 2013; Shaw 2000; Werbner 1990).

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Obligation to provide financially for parents and to take care of them is incumbent upon the son, whereas the responsibility for day-to-day care falls on the daughter-in- law. Rytter notes that among Pakistani migrants, marriage is still recognised as family- centred (2012: 576). Pakistani migrants place value on this cultural expectation that endorses marriage as being the union of two families rather than the union of the bride and groom. More importantly, the behaviour of women towards their in-laws has ramifications for close family. For instance, mothers set an example for their children, and the way women behave towards their in-laws sends messages to their children about respect, belonging and how to behave with family (Rytter 2010a: 55). Werbner (1990: 233) also mentions in her study of British-Pakistanis in Manchester that alliances between families overrule individual alliances, such as the relationship between husband and wife.

Dutiful daughters-in-law

Living with in-laws meant sharing domestic chores such as cooking and housekeeping, socialising with in-laws, and hosting family dinners. Those who did not have to adhere to a patrilocal system of having to live with in-laws were still obliged to fulfil certain expectations, such as having to devout their leisure time to in-laws, particularly in the first few years of marriage, have family dinners with in-laws at the weekend, and to entertain the friends and relatives of in-laws. According to my participants, regardless of the duration of marriage, it was the responsibility of daughters–in-law to accompany ill or elderly in-laws to hospital or GP appointments and to care of in-laws if they were ill. It was also incumbent upon daughters-in-law to take an active role on important occasions and rites of passage such as religious celebrations, weddings, funerals and mourning rituals.

On one occasion as I chatted to Serena, she explained that it disappointed her that the younger generation failed to appreciate having a close bond with their in-laws. She pointed out that this was very much a ‘generation thing’:

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“I have a friend who’s been married for over 20 years and has been very good to her in-laws, being very dutiful and accommodating her in-laws, and now she feels she has earned her place in her in-laws. We agreed upon this that there is a new generation coming up now haven’t got a clue, and actually, they don’t care. They don’t care about pleasing their in-laws and making a name for themselves in the family. It is a generation thing. Making a name means that for example when I joined Nadeem’s [Serena’s husband] family, I knew there was a certain role for me: I was the new daughter-in-law. I was expected to help round the house when I visited, expected to be available if in-laws needed to go to appointments. I was expected to behave as a daughter-in-law would: hold their respect when meeting other members of the family, and I knew that there was certain role and I needed to show Nadeem’s mum and dad that I was a really good wife and I am working really hard looking after their son, and I am there for them. In our generation, we were brought up to please other people around us, please our parents, please our in-laws and please everyone around us. Certain roles became second nature to us. This generation now don’t please their own parents, they are too busy doing what they think is right for them: they are definitely not going to please the in-laws! For in-laws, now to think a new daughter in-law is going to come in and bend over backwards like we did for ours, I think we are in cloud cuckoo land if we think that is going to happen!” (Interview, November 2012).

Serena was alluding to the fact that ‘making a name’ was key, a position that had to be cultivated and required being under the intense scrutiny of in-laws and their close friends and relatives. She mentioned that the actions of the daughter-in-law reflected heavily on upbringing, and a good reputation among her in-laws made parents proud that their daughter had brought them honour. By doing this, the daughter-in-law was gaining a positive reputation not only among her affine and blood relatives, and but also among the community or social circle her family or affine associated with, which earned the daughter-in-law social capital. Social capital in this situation could be construed as moral capital because one of the virtues of being a dutiful daughter-in- law was a revered status, one which not only earned respect and recognition, but one

150 which also served as an example for and role model to other women. This moral capital enabled women to cast judgment on other women in their role as daughters-in- law.

Thus, after many years of marriage, the fear that coerced women into playing the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law was no longer there. Instead, ‘making a name’ and with it, moral capital, becomes a strategy to appropriate power and control, as there is much to gain from harnessing this position. According to my participants, the daughter-in- law’s good reputation reflected on the mother-in-law, showing her to be a good judge of character in choosing a ‘good wife’ for her son, or in raising a son who has the ability to recognise a woman of good character who would not only be an asset to him, but also to his family. Similarly, among the Chinese in Song and Zhang’s (2012: 59) study, a man brings his wife into his family through marriage, making her an in-group member. Gaining the trust of in-laws worked to one’s advantage: it was not only a strategy to acquire agency and to raise status among in-laws, it also strengthened relations between husband and wife.

Serena brought my attention to how the roles of mother-in-law and daughter-in-law transcended social class within Pakistani culture. Serena knew many British-Pakistanis from different class backgrounds who shared similar cultural values and expectations of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. Her parents and in-laws were of different class backgrounds, but held very similar values when it came to marriage. These cultural values and expectations were embodied, socialised, and learned in the home from an early age, therefore seeing them slowly dying out was akin to mourning a loss because these values were inherent to their Pakistani identity, morality and upbringing.

Talking to Amber about her husband’s sister-in-law, it became apparent that Pakistani identity was not exclusively ascribed to the idea of an ethnic group, but was more about the values that one espoused. Diane was married to Amber’s husband’s older brother, and the fact that she was white British did not mean she could not earn the position of a dutiful daughter-in-law. The rules that applied to Pakistani daughters-in- law also applied to non-Pakistani women who married Pakistani men. Therefore, just

151 as the other daughters-in-law had done, Diane was expected to live with her in-laws, which she did for several years. While she lived with them, she took on the responsibility of accompanying them to hospital and GP appointments. During that time, she also adopted the cultural practices of her in-laws and participated in religious and cultural rituals, as well as learning to speak Urdu. The fact that Diane was English and willing to embrace the values of her in-laws earned her social capital among her in-laws. Social capital enabled women not only to garner agency, but also to establish close bonds with in-laws, which also meant that in-laws felt loyalty and affection towards a dutiful daughter-in-law, looking upon her favourably, and overlooking flaws or misdemeanours.

This also exemplified the fluidity of Pakistani identity, and more importantly, it was not restricted to the concept of an ethnic group or one’s particular heritage. Identity is porous, thus allowing someone from a ‘different racial category’ to belong. Belonging in this case was essentially about values, an on-going process about maintaining relationships. Behaving in a certain way, the desire to belong in a particular way, and espousing specific values all contribute to a particular identity, here a Pakistani identity. Although Diane was of English heritage, being a dutiful daughter-in-law and adhering to the cultural expectations of a British-Pakistani daughter-in-law meant that she was seen as a Pakistani. Being a dutiful daughter-in-law was very much a cultural expectation among South Asians, therefore subservience, obedience and respect to in- laws earned moral and social capital and were virtues within Pakistani culture that were given value and passed down through the generations. Diane’s heritage was not important because she not only fulfilled the religious and cultural obligations of a British-Pakistani woman, but exceeded these expectations by being a dutiful daughter- in-law, which made her an indispensable member of the family. Earning herself a good reputation among her in-laws and their friends was more important than her ethnic background because, in this case, being Pakistani was not about race but about upholding certain values and attributes.

Amber explained that her husband was the youngest child, making her the youngest daughter–in-law among her affine. The bar was set high for Amber, as the other daughters-in-law were dutiful towards the in-laws, keeping the family close and which

152 earned them respect. Within the family hierarchy, she had to show the utmost respect and obedience to her husband’s older sisters. For Amber, being British-Pakistani, having been socialised into Pakistani culture from birth, her in-laws expected her to put their interests above her own and to live with them, and to devote her leisure time to them at the expense of her friends and family.

“I was in a cocoon of being with in-laws and couldn’t see life beyond that bubble. I was consumed by it, completely consumed by his family” (Interview, April 2012).

Amber found these obligations towards her in-laws in the first few years of marriage challenging and sometimes overwhelming. At the start of her marriage, her mother-in- law and sisters-in-law conditioned her to feel guilty when visiting her own parents, by being cold and aloof every time she returned from visiting her family. They resented Amber devoting time to her parents instead of them, but as they got to know and trust Amber, their demands and expectations receded, and they became more accommodating and empathetic towards her. More importantly, the fact that she invested time in her in-laws by participating in their lives and treated them with respect gained her acceptance. Song and Zhang’s (2012: 59) study of in-laws in China makes note that in Chinese culture, emphasis is placed on the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. The study illustrates how young people are expected to accommodate their elders, showing them respect, support and obedience. This is very similar to what I encountered in my own research, however the difference was that in my research, the subservient status of daughters-in-law was temporary. The women in my study pointed out that in-laws espoused a laid-back attitude once they got to know their daughter-in-law, and trust was established.

After some years of marriage, Amber and the other women in my research developed genuine affection towards their in-laws and reached a positive mutual understanding. Saying that, the women I spoke to said that although they forged bonds with in-laws, they were not as relaxed among affine as they were with their own parents and siblings. They felt that they had to keep up certain appearances that complied with this

153 model of a good daughter-in-law. Their presence among their in-laws was more akin to a performance that could translate at times to a lack of comfort. This façade was engendered in the early stages of marriage as a response to the glaring eyes and scrutiny of in-laws, which was intimidating, and it eventually became a habit that was difficult to break. By behaving too casually or being caught off guard in the presence of their in-laws, the women did not want to risk shattering the image of a dutiful daughter-in-law that they had worked so hard to create.

At the beginning of her marriage Farah, for example, helped her mother-in-law host dinner parties for friends and family. She was a good host to relatives who came from abroad to stay with her in-laws, and she also socialised with her husband’s relatives who lived close by. She explained how at the start of her marriage, things had not been easy between her and her in-laws:

“You try and live a double life when you first get married and live with in-laws. You’re trying to explain yourself and trying to justify yourself all the time. You always want to impress them and do things right in front of them and I don’t know why. And it does annoy you if they make a comment about what you are doing with your children, but it’s OK if your mum says the same thing. It takes time to get used to in-laws and eventually me and my mother-in-law met half way. It took a good few years for her to have the confidence in me. I wouldn’t want my daughter to live with in- laws. But I would not say that to her and I would make sure she held the highest respect for her in-laws” (Interview, October 2012).

Amber mentioned that Farah had faced a great deal of responsibility because not only did she live with her in-laws, but her in-laws belonged to a very close-knit family who lived on the same street. Amber knew a lot about Farah’s life, as her parents were acquainted with Farah’s in-laws and mother. Farah confirmed that she faced competition from her husband’s female relatives, because the presence of so many women resulted in the women competing for greater success in personal style, cooking and hosting. Amber claimed that living in a close-knit family, this kind of pressure was unavoidable. Saying that, most of the women I spoke to welcomed a degree of competitiveness as it was an opportunity to demonstrate their skills whilst also

154 garnering moral capital within the family. Farah explained that her in-laws showed appreciation and had genuine affection towards her, and this was expressed in small gestures such as giving Farah privacy when her friends visited. Although she was happy for her in-laws to be present, they insisted on retreating to their bedroom when she invited guests over, to give her space. There were other benefits to forging a positive relationship with one’s in-laws. It enabled Farah to socialise in the evening with friends because her in-laws took care of her children while she was out. Therefore, she has established a relationship of mutual respect with her in-laws, where they were also happy to make small sacrifices to accommodate Farah and to consider her wellbeing and happiness. Arguably, living together allows people to negotiate rules, which also becomes easier as trust develops, and bonds are solidified with newcomers into the family.

Altruism and antagonism

While the attitudes of the mothers-in-laws towards the women in my study had improved considerably over the years, the women still found it difficult to overcome the discrimination they had faced from their in-laws early on in their marriage. I observed this when I was invited to lunch at Maya’s house with Syrah, Amber, Laila, and their friend Natasha. Laila recalled the early days of her marriage when she went on umrah with her in-laws, and how they created a fuss at the hotel where they stayed because Laila and her husband had decided to have breakfast alone instead of joining her husband’s parents and his siblings.41 It annoyed Laila that her in-laws had failed to take into consideration the needs of the newlyweds to want privacy and not to be overwhelmed by family. The other women listened with interest as it evoked their own grievances with their in-laws. They made the point that if mothers-in-laws treated their daughters-in-law with consideration from the start, they would have earned a lot more respect and loyalty from their daughters-in-law. The women agreed among themselves that they were not going to be as short-sighted as their own in-laws, and would not

41 Umrah, the Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca, can be undertaken anytime in the year, unlike Hajj (Yusaf: 2006).

155 have unreasonable expectations and demands. They were well aware that the next generation of British-Pakistanis would be reluctant to uphold patrilocal values, and therefore they could not have the expectation that they would be taken care of by their son’s wives in old age.

Listening to the experiences of my informants, it seemed to me that they saw their role among in-laws as altruistic – to help and support them. They expected the same commitment and devotion from their brother’s wives as daughters-in-law to their parents. The relationships between them and their brother’s wives became antagonistic when certain expectations from the women in my study were not met. It was interesting to see how the women maintained a sense of duty and close ties to in- laws, particularly when they themselves found it overwhelming at times. They wanted their own parents to be treated with respect and affection by their daughters-in-law, and if these expectations were not met it created antipathy between the women and their sisters–in-law. Relations soured between Roshan and her older brother’s wife after she refused to live with her in-laws. Roshan argued that she had fulfilled her the duties to her in-laws, and believed it was incumbent on all daughters-in–law to do so, which is why she was disappointed by her older brother’s wife’s lack of commitment to Roshan’s parents. Since Roshan’s mother-in-law was also her paternal aunt, her status changed after marriage from that of niece to daughter-in-law. Interestingly, parents preferred their daughters to marry close kin, as this gave them the reassurance that their daughter would be treated well by in-laws who are also family (Charsley 2007: 1120). This was also what my informant’s parents expected, but upon marriage nieces were presented with the same responsibilities and expectations as daughters-in-law who were not kin. For example, Roshan’s status as an in-law meant that it was her responsibility to organise her sisters-in-law (Roshan’s husband’s sisters) weddings, which took place in Pakistan. Roshan told me that it had been a stressful period in her life because despite having an infant and a toddler, she was nonetheless expected to shop for both sisters-in-law’s trousseau and gifts, and also to help with the wedding arrangements in Pakistan. Roshan’s in-laws demanded many gifts from her because products from the West such as beauty products, lingerie, electrical goods, shoes, handbags, and household items were popular and sought after in Pakistan.

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Furthermore, Roshan’s husband was the eldest son and a doctor, and was expected to support his family in Pakistan by sending remittances and paying for the wedding expenses of each of his siblings. She was under immense pressure while catering to the demands of her in-laws with a toddler and a baby in tow. Her sisters-in-law requested furniture from the UK to furnish their homes, which Roshan and her husband had to provide. Her husband felt obliged and indebted to his mother because she was recently widowed, and his parents had invested a lot in his education to be able to send him to medical school. Roshan’s experience was quite common. According to Shaw (2000: 98) remittances are often sent back to meet wedding expenses or to improve the socio-economic status of family back home. Shaw also notes that it is common practice among migrants to return home, especially for a wedding, and to stay for long periods, and also typical for widowed mothers to visit their children in Britain and stay for several months with their married son and his family (Shaw 2000: 98). Even when Roshan’s in-laws stayed with her for long periods of time, they behaved as guests: expecting to be waited upon, chauffeured and entertained by Roshan.

Serena’s relationship with her brother’s wife was also strained because she felt that she did not live up to the expectations of being a good daughter-in-law to Serena’s parents. She believed that her brother had been influenced by his wife, whose aim was to distance him from his parents. Serena explained that her brother’s wife had never made an effort with Serena’s parents from the start, and had always showed antipathy, rarely visiting them and not reciprocating their warmth and kindness towards her. Even though Serena’s parents were now elderly and vulnerable, her brother’s wife still lacked concern and compassion towards them.

The women clarified that their duties and commitments to their in-laws justified certain roles and commitments from their brother’s wives. Serena stated that she never overlooked her obligations to her in-laws, and that her mother encouraged her to be kind and compassionate towards them. She cherished fond memories of her in- laws who had passed away, mentioning that she had kept in close contact with them despite them living in different cities. She would often go and stay with them, and also accompany them to hospital and GP appointments. Serena said that she earned her

157 mother’s-in-law affection through showing utmost respect and commitment to in- laws. Her mother-in-law had a close relationship with Serena, and cooked her favourite dishes every time she visited as a gesture of love and happiness at seeing her daughter-in-law. Her only expectation was that the same level of respect be shown towards her own parents from their daughters-in-law. Respect towards in-laws and parents was paramount to Serena, and she expected her own daughter to be a devoted daughter-in-law when she got married in the future. It was interesting to see how some of the women in my study expected the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law to be fulfilled by the next generation.

The rules on how to behave as a dutiful daughter-in-law were never fixed, and could be interpreted in different ways. Even though the women in my research have all been married for many years and have overcome the difficulty of the first years, they still grappled with different aspects of the relationship. Therefore, they often shared their problems and sought advice from friends during social gatherings such as lunches and coffee mornings. One’s in-laws seemed to be a popular topic of conversation on these occasions. During a lunch at Maya’s house that I attended with Syrah, Amber, Laila and their friend Natasha, Syrah told them how her mother-in-law had recently been widowed and had moved in with her. Despite the benefits of additional help with childcare, cooking and the school run, having her mother-in-law living under the same roof posed unexpected dilemmas. Syrah was in the process of booking her first family holiday since her mother-in-law had moved in with her, and was not sure whether or not to invite her mother-in-law, and asked her friends for their opinion. Syrah did not want to risk damaging relations with her in-laws by not inviting her mother-in-law, particularly if her mother-in-law was expecting an invitation. The women discussed how they seldom faced such pressures among close kin such as parents, because misunderstandings were quickly resolved and in their experience, bonds with affine were not as resilient as those of kinship. The women felt that the unconditional love of parents meant that not only were parents more understanding, but with parents they felt more confident about disclosing their true feelings without the fear of causing offense or resentment. Among affine, relations were not so straight forward in comparison to kin. While the women in my study were aware of their responsibilities

158 towards in-laws, such as sharing domestic chores and cooking, there were other areas where they were uncertain as to what was expected from them. At times, they felt unsure and uneasy that their actions could unwittingly cause hurt or offence to their in-laws. Therefore, at times it was still a complex relationship where they had to tread carefully, no longer out of duress, but the fear of upsetting people they genuinely cared for.

Syrah was clear that she wanted to make a fair decision, although she looked forward to the prospect of a holiday with just her husband and children. Syrah expressed how this holiday was a much-anticipated break, as it was an opportunity to unwind after a difficult period in her life. Recent events she had to deal with including the loss of her father-in-law, and at the same time renovating and moving to a new house, had taken a toll on her. Although she explained to the others that her mother-in-law was a fair and reasonable person and would understand not being invited, it did not prevent her from feeling overwhelmed with guilt. Laila, Amber, Natasha and Maya tried to convince Syrah that her feelings of guilt were irrational. Laila said that Syrah deserved a well-earned break without her mother-in-law, because it had been a difficult year and holidays were a time for her to bond with her husband and children. Natasha even argued that, contrary to popular belief among many British-Pakistanis, in Islam it was the children’s duty to take responsibility for their parents, and the onus was not on the daughter-in-law, which was instead a cultural interpretation. Natasha suggested that Haris (Syrah’s husband) should ask his siblings to take care of his mother while they were away. She emphasised that, in reminding his siblings of their duty to their mother, Haris was doing them a favour because on the Day of Judgment they should not regret not sharing the burden and responsibility of caring for their mother. Natasha pointed out that her own husband regularly reminded his siblings that taking care of his elderly parents was a shared responsibility of all the siblings, and this burden should not be on one child. The others nodded their heads in agreement. Amber argued that living with in-laws was a cultural obligation, and in Islam daughters- in-law were not obliged to live with in-laws.

Although Bolognani and Mellor (2012: 213) argue that British-Muslim women exploit religious narratives to challenge patrilocal norms, and according to Brown (2006)

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British-Muslim women use Islam to separate culture from religion, among my participants it was not about challenging norms or exercising rights through religious rhetoric. At the most, their suggestions were merely thought-provoking and inspirational for subsequent generations to make changes. For these women, it was about exploiting the religious narrative in a way that worked for them, justifying their actions and decision-making to relieve guilt concerning in-laws and other relationships. Here Amber was using religion to justify her decision not to live with her in-laws and, in the same way, Natasha was exploiting religion to stop Syrah from feeling guilty for wanting a holiday without her mother-in-law. They were aware that defiance could not be justified by religious rhetoric, particularly when they had been inculcated from an early age to show respect and obedience to parents, elders and future in-laws. More importantly, the women recognised the benefits of being a daughter-in-law, and it had taken them many years to cultivate a position of moral capital and respect among their in-laws, and through it, among their social group, which they were not willing to lose. They were more confident in fulfilling the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law than treading the unchartered territory that conflicted with these cultural norms.

The merits of in-laws

At the start of this chapter, I discussed the challenges that the women in my study faced in being accepted as a valued member of the family among their in-laws. I illustrated how they moved from the periphery to a position of a valued and important family member with their in-laws. Here I look beyond the idea of mere recognition and status. As someone from outside the family, they were not entitled to belong among their in-laws, it had to be earned. It was through their commitment to their in-laws and their role as a dutiful daughter-in-law that entitled my participants to belong. Their role was similar to that of the Hindu women in Reddy and Hanna’s (1998) study, where the role and expectation of Hindu women was to be an ideal wife and daughter-in-law, one who is obedient to her in-laws and husband, and places the needs of her husband, children and in-laws above her own (Raval 2009: 492). In her study of Bedouin tribes,

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Abu-Lughod (2000: 63) notes that bonds such as unity and support are consolidated through obligations of living together, arguing that those who live together are regarded as kin, because the bonds in this relationship are created through closeness. Abu-Lughod argues that the rights and obligations among those living together are similar to those of kinship because they are bound by strong sentiment (2000: 64). Living together makes strangers familiar, and it is this familiarity that engenders attachment and a sense of belonging akin to family (Abu-Lughod 2000: 65). This is also noted by Butcher in her study of Australian migrants, arguing that fondness and compassion consolidates bonds that lead to a close relationship, whereas negative emotions such as suspicion and resentment creates barriers (2009: 1355). Therefore, belonging is about establishing these bonds of affiliation and love through commitment, trust and respect.

There were many parallels in the roles and influences on family between my participants and the literature on ethnic minorities living in North America and Europe, such as the important role that family plays in belonging. McCarthy’s study highlights the importance of family in people’s everyday life: the need to belong through family is desired because it offers a sense of security (2012: 74). Adding to this, Arouch’s (1999) study of Arab-American migrants illustrates that extended family, which consists of parents, children, grandparents, uncles and aunts living together, is greatly valued and has its benefits because affiliation through family offers people a sense of security and a strong network of solidarity. Among my participants, even for the women who did not live with their in-laws, having parents or in-laws living close by was welcomed. Those who did not have parents or in-laws nearby missed the presence of family which they thought was good for their children’s upbringing and, more importantly, they valued belonging through family because it offered comfort and support. My participants preferred to share responsibilities and were in favour of a setup which was less individualistic and more about putting the needs of others first. Grandparents helped with childcare, and children were responsible for the care and wellbeing of elderly parents. Jibeen and Hynie argue that South Asian immigrants endorse strict gender roles, expectations, and well-being of the wider family in-group as opposed to the wellbeing of individuals, nuclear family unity and family dependency (2012: 2). An

161 emphasis on the value of the rights of the collective and hierarchies of power within the family is also noted in Abu-Laban and Abu-Laban’s (1999) study of Arab migrants in Canada. This set up also worked in the favour of my participants because their in-laws took responsibility for childcare and shared domestic duties, enabling the women in my study to pursue their career, interests and ambitions. Therefore, the relationship between the women and their in-laws was one of reciprocity, and mutually beneficial.

The relationship of the women in my study with their in-laws became a symbiotic one; one which involved mutual love and support. Parents-in-law were, in most cases, an asset to the daughter-in-law, and they could be relied upon for childcare. Women also took advantage of the fact that grandparents took on the responsibility for being the transmitters of cultural and religious values. This is also something that Evergeti mentions in her study of Greek diaspora communities around the world. Extended family plays a critical role in the celebration of religious and cultural events, and family is seen as a major source of support in caring for young children and aging parents (Evergeti 2006). Furthermore, family obligations are internalised and inherent to cultural expectations, something which I also noticed among my participants (Evergeti 2006: 351).

The women in my study depended on their in-laws and their parents to pass down religious values and Pakistani customs to their children. Those of my participants who lived with their in-laws said that it took the pressure off them having to be sole bearers of their cultural and religious norms, because their children’s grandparents took it upon themselves to impart these values to their grandchildren. Farah mentioned that her in-laws involved her children in religious rituals and prayers, and was grateful to her in-laws, and her own family, for fostering good manners in her children. Scholars have also pointed out the important of family in engendering certain beliefs and curbing certain behaviours. For example, in Seikaly’s study of Arab immigrants in the US, tradition is used as a defence against conflicting values and behaviour prevalent in their host society (1999: 24). Family and home become the bastion of culture, and female family members are recognised as having a special role as ‘cultural guardians’, responsible for passing on cultural and religious values, investing in the next generation the upholding of cultural values and religious beliefs. Thus, family serves to

162 uphold certain ideals and expectations upheld by people of ethnic minority status (Seikaly 1999). The importance of family is also present in Mathews’s (2000) study of family, norms and expectations among South Asians and South East Asian migrants in the US. Mathews claims that, among South Asian migrants, grandparents have higher status in the family and are taken care of by family members, and are also very involved in the upbringing of their grandchildren (2000: 102).

Silverstein’s research into the influence of in-laws on marriage also acknowledges that in-laws can be a valuable asset through their positive contributions, and that they can offer friendship, support and guidance (1990: 400). My participants mentioned that before returning to their careers, they had invested a lot in their relationships with their in-laws. In return, their in-laws took upon themselves the responsibility for childcare and housework when the women went back to work. Help and support no longer stemmed out of duty, but out of appreciation of a valued member of the family.

Nadia highlighted the benefits of having her mother-in-law living close by, saying

“She expects us to look after her and give her a roof over her head, but then she helps us as well. We are happy to do that. She helps out with the children, baby sitting and picking them up from school - that’s a big help” (Interview, May 2013).

The support and help from in-laws enabled my participants to continue with their careers because grandparents took responsibility for the school run and cooking the evening meal, which absolved them of a lot of the responsibility and pressure of childcare and domestic chores. Furthermore, they did not have to think twice about having an evening out with their husband or their friends, because the grandparents would care for the children. Grandparents and other family members living in the same house or close by bestowed love and attention on the children, and took an active role in their care and wellbeing. Therefore, the patrilocal system of living with in-laws had its advantages, and the sacrifices the women in my study made for their in- laws paid off later in their marriage. There was a genuine sense of belonging, loyalty and affiliation within this relationship, where in-laws could count on their daughter-in- law for support, advice and company, and the daughter-in-law could do the same

163 without hesitation and without feeling it was a burden on her in-laws. It was this affection between the women in my study and their in-laws that brought the family together.

Among the women I worked with, belonging with in-laws was not only about obligations, but about love, care and moral capital. Unlike kin, love among in-laws was gradual- it had to be earned. It was a process that was painstaking in the early years of marriage. Love was the result of a struggle on the part of the women and judgement on the part of their in-laws. Unlike in the previous chapters, the goal was not simply the achievement of capital (moral or cultural), but rather a loving relationship that allowed the women to feel that they belonged to the in-law extended family and to profit from the benefits that come with it. Although difficult at times, this relationship, and the context that surrounded it (the extended family ruled by a patriarchal system/culture), is not only about obligations and fixed expectations, but also about creating a sense of belonging through mutual love and caring.

Changes in expectations

At the same time, the women who participated in my research were noticing changes between their own experiences and those of women who were newly married. They mentioned that the British-Pakistani women who were getting married now seemed less involved with their in-laws, and did not live up to traditional role of a dutiful daughter-in-law. Rytter, in his study of Pakistanis in Denmark, argues that these changes are already taking place. Daughters-in-law were not as willing to make compromises as the women of the previous generation, and were less likely to live with in-laws. Consequently, mothers-in-law were finding it difficult to accept such assertiveness from their new daughters-in-law, because a woman marrying their son was an opportunity to finally relish in the status and benefits of being a mother-in-law, just like mothers-in-law before them. More importantly, they had looked forward to having a dutiful and submissive daughter-in-law, as they had once been (Rytter 2010a: 56-57). The women in my study did not need to challenge their own mothers-in-law in

164 the same way because, having been married for several years, they had already established positive relations with their in-laws, and had achieved more autonomy and were no longer constrained to the will of their mothers-in-law. However, they were also noticing a significant change in the expectations of mothers-in-law and attitudes of daughters-in-law from the time they got married, and these changes occurred over a very short space of time.

Changes in lifestyle, priorities, and external influences such as religion, globalisation and wider society impacted the expectations that mothers–in-law had of their daughters-in-law.42 These factors were also shaping the attitudes and expectations that the younger generation had towards marriage and their role as a daughter-in-law. Bhachu notes that these changes were occurring because the culture of country of origin is modified as it interacts with the cultures of the host county (1993 cited in Thapan 2005: 34). This is particularly true in the case of immigrants who want to challenge gendered discourses from the home country (Thapan 2005: 34). Thapan explains that second-generation migrants espouse an identity that is fluid and in flux, and which promotes cultural hybridity through galvanising elements of both the majority and minority culture, involving elements of both assimilation and the continuation of cultural traditions, and engendering new identities through this process of cultural hybridity (2005: 36). Rytter also points out the unique position of first-generation migrants. In the diaspora, the first- and second-generation migrants are not only a generation in a different time, but also in different places. Generations are intertwined with experiences of living in different places governed by the local and the global (Rytter 2013: 6). Problems arise among second-generation South Asian women living in the West because they are presented with the conflicting values discussed above. These women have been socialised within the home from a young age with one set of values, which can be incompatible with a set of values that they have been influenced by outside the home. Hence the second generation must face the challenge of conflating these different and often conflicting norms and values with which they are presented (Jibeen and Hynie 2012: 3). According to the women in my study, these disparities were more noticeable among British-Pakistani women of a

42 Here I am using ‘wider society’ to mean the general public who are not Muslim or Asian.

165 younger generation who were now getting married, whereas my participants felt, at least at the start of their marriage, that they were dutiful to their in-laws because these values and expectations were inherent to their upbringing.

This is not to say that the women in my study were immune to the conflicting norms and values of their surroundings. Although their expectations of daughters-in-law were different from those of British-Pakistani women who were younger, their expectations were also different from those of the previous generation. Each generation had different expectations, and their outlook, values and priorities were influenced by the ever-changing society in which they lived. Therefore, the mothers–in-law of the women in my study were also realising that to make the relationship with their daughters-in-law work, they also had to make compromises and to modify their expectations. They could not hold on to the same expectations as their own in-laws had of them in Pakistan. The image of a daughter-in-law that they left behind in Pakistan could not be re-constructed in Britain.43 Once they moved to Britain, first- generation British-Pakistani women were finding ways of adapting to their new life through negotiating and re-negotiating values, changes and expectations of family life in Britain. As for the women in my study, global, local and religious influences played an important role as to what they could expect from the next generation.

According to Farah, her generation of British-Pakistani women went into marriage intending to be obedient to in-laws, in order to earn their respect and acceptance. She said that ‘we have still got a lot of culture in us’. Farah recalled that she had recently gone to pay her respects at the passing of a very close friend of her father-in-law. She was surprised to witness that during the period of mourning, the new daughter-in-law did not take an active role in the family, such as seeing to her grieving in-laws and tending to the mourners, and had continued going to work instead of taking leave. Farah stated that had she been in the same situation, she would have put her work and life on hold out of respect and duty to her in-laws, and thought it was important to

43 The first generation of British-Pakistani women were raised in Pakistan with an image of a daughter- in-law who had to fulfil a very specific role. In Pakistan they had to live up to this role themselves, and also expected other women to fulfil this very specific role of a daughter-in-law to earn respect from in- laws and family and to gain acceptance from in-laws.

166 continue and observe these ‘Asian ways’. She was disappointed that the younger generation were engrossed in their own lives instead of putting family first.

Farah and the other women in my study were aware of their role as the dutiful daughter-in-law, and the need to integrate into their husband’s family. While this was a challenging and unwelcome situation, the women in my study were mindful that the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law paid dividends. It not only earned them moral capital among their in-laws, but also autonomy and the love and trust of their in-laws. Although they see this as a challenging relationship, and understand why, they also believe that the relationship between in-laws carries with it a set of cultural and moral values that are important to pass on to the next generation, even if they are going to do things differently.

Farah and the other women in my study felt that these changes in behaviour of daughters-in-law was occurring sooner than they had envisaged. They welcomed changes to ease the burden on daughters-in-law, but surprisingly, when they witnessed changes they did not want to let go of the traditional values as they were not ready to embrace such changes so soon. More importantly for those who had children in their late teens or early twenties, the prospect of becoming a mother-in- law was in the not-too-distant future. Realising that they had to come to terms with such rapid changes in the behaviour of daughters-in-law, and being the recipient of these changes, the women were unlikely to benefit from a dutiful daughter-in-law in the future.

Nadia gave the example of her husband’s younger brother’s wife Shareen, to illustrate how attitudes have changed so dramatically in a short space of time. Nadia had lived under a patrilocal system for several years, and moved out of her mother’s-in-law house when her brother-in-law and his wife moved in after getting married. Shareen was in her mid-twenties, several years younger than Nadia, and although she was also a second-generation British-Pakistani from a similar class background, her attitude to her in-laws was very different from Nadia’s. Even though Shareen now lived with her mother-in-law, unlike Nadia who used to share the domestic chores such as cooking and cleaning, Shareen was unable to take on such responsibilities because she did not

167 possess those skills. Nadia drew attention to the fact that her generation of British- Pakistani women were skilled in cooking, and said

“In my generation mothers have instilled in their daughters that cooking was a vital skill and something you should be accomplished in, because you have to cook yourself when you leave home and fend for yourself” (Interview, May 2013).

These changes in expectations were also a shock to Nadia. It surprised Nadia that the younger generation were so relaxed in their attitudes towards domesticity, whereas her generation took pride in cooking and housekeeping, and did not let their career be an excuse for incompetence or espousing a lax attitude. Nadia was taught by her mother that the inability to cook was a bad reflection on her upbringing, and especially embarrassing for the mother, because she had failed to equip her daughter with important life skills. Teaching her daughters cooking and other domestic skills was a priority for Nadia’s mother, as she wanted to ensure that her daughters were competent in these skills so that their in-laws would be proud of her daughter’s domestic achievements and would also benefit from them. Mothers of women of her generation would have been appalled to have their sons marry women who were incompetent in the domestic sphere, regardless of their academic achievements or professional status. Apart from it being a reflection of good upbringing, having a professional career and possessing the skills of an accomplished homemaker were desirable attributes sought after in a daughter-in-law. This was also common among other women I spoke to in my study.

Nadia explained that among Shareen’s contemporaries, most were inexperienced in housekeeping and cooking. The priorities and attitudes of British-Pakistani women had changed considerably and, as a consequence, the expectations of mothers-in-law towards them were gradually changing too. Nadia was pleased that her mother-in- law’s attitudes towards daughters-in-law were also moving with the times, making it easier for Shareen to live with her. She also acknowledged that the priorities of mothers were changing too, and mothers were placing more emphasis on their daughters having a career rather than their ability to cook. Nadia pointed out that Shareen had many other qualities, and was an asset to her in-laws as she was polite,

168 respectful and forthcoming, and the fact that Shareen lived with her mother-in-law was more than could be expected from British-Pakistani women now-a-days.

Nadia, like many other women in my research, also drew attention to the fact that women of her generation were taught by their own mothers to be more aware of the needs of in-laws and, when they got married, they took pride in supporting their in- laws and sometime appreciated the support they received from in-laws. While Nadia no longer lived with her mother-in-law, their lives were very much enmeshed. Commitment to family was an important part of her cultural and religious upbringing, and she felt pity towards her mother-in-law for being widowed and lonely. During the period they lived together, Nadia would take her mother-in-law to coffee mornings at the local mosque, to encourage her to socialise with other British-Pakistani women her own age who lived locally. Even after moving out, Nadia took meals round to her mother-in-law when she was unwell, out of genuine concern.

The changing attitudes of third-generation British-Pakistanis

Gazala shared similar views about family and in-laws as Farah and Nadia, as described above. She espoused cultural expectations and upheld certain traditions passed down by her mother. Like many of the other women I spoke to, she agreed that the younger generation were lacking in empathy and commitment to family, and duty to their in- laws. Unlike her generation, they did not put the needs of elders before their own, or place emphasis on the importance of filial duty and a sense of obligation to family. Gazala emphasised the importance of duty and obedience to elders, but at the same time, she admired how the younger generation did things out of sincerity rather than obligation. Their actions did not stem from coercion or guilt, but instead genuine love and care:

“Our generation has had that traditional influence, and they have seen within their own family and parents do it. It may continue if the next generation see their parents doing it, but if they haven’t or if they don’t like the family thing then it won’t. Our generation do things out of obligation for our parents and

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elders, out of respect, even if we really don’t want to, whereas my children’s generation if they don’t want to do something they are honest and say they don’t want to do it. In one way, I like that honesty because at least they do things because they want to, but at the same time it’s also a bit selfish, because life isn’t always you get to do everything you like. Sometimes you do have to do things to please someone else out of respect. Our generation has definitely got that respect and obligation embedded in us” (Interview, June 2013).

It was interesting to note the differences in attitudes and expectations between Gazala’s generation and her children’s generation. Second-generation British- Pakistanis saw the importance of maintaining certain expectations, such as respect to elders and keeping the family together, to please their parents and in-laws. My participants were noticing that their own children were not taking such a burden of responsibility upon themselves. Unlike their parents, they were not placing importance on duty to family and elders, but instead they were dutiful out of choice rather than obligation. While among the second-generation duty was done out of obligation, over time duty transformed into an expression of gratitude and affection towards a loved one, a bond that developed over time through living together and sharing experiences.

Gazala explained that her mother had advised her to put her in-laws above the needs of her own parents, so that she would earn their love and respect. Her mother recommended that engaging in chores and experiences with her in-laws would strengthen bonds. After her mother-in-law passed away, Gazala’s father-in-law moved in to live with her and her family. Gazala worked as a nutritionist and holistic therapist and, although she was busy juggling a career and family, she dedicated time to her father-in-law every day. They would often chat or do chores together, such as gardening and cooking. Gazala’s in-laws expressed positive sentiments and goodwill towards her, and regarded her as a valued member of the family.

Being the wife of the eldest son, Gazala was expected by her in-laws to initiate family dinners, host Eid dinner, and keep the family together. She was also responsible for the wellbeing of her husband’s nieces and nephews who had moved to Manchester to study. She would often cook meals for them and wash their laundry when they visited

170 from university. She enjoyed this nurturing but demanding role, which earned her respect and recognition among her in in-laws, and the satisfaction of caring for others. Reciprocity, and sharing life and chores strengthened bonds between women and their in-laws. The women took pride in their nurturing roles, not only as mothers, but as an elder in the family, caring for younger family members. Walker, Thompson and Morgan recognise that women are the promoters of intergenerational ties, and are more involved in maintaining family bonds than men (1987 cited in Fingerman 2004: 1028). For the women in my study, their husband’s closeness to his parents and siblings was expressed through their wife’s devotion to her in-laws. The closeness to and responsibility for parents and siblings was instilled in the men by their families from a young age. Therefore, it was important to them to marry a woman who would espouse similar values, and expect to be dutiful to his family. Although most of the women in my study did not have an arranged marriage, they were aware of their role to become a dutiful daughter-in-law because of their upbringing: it was something that their husband, parents and in-laws expected from them. Gazala’s husband was very appreciative of the way she cared for his father, and the time Gazala devoted to his mother when she was alive. I also met Gazala’s husband’s sister Shella when she was visiting from Australia. She was staying with Gazala, and was full of praise for her. She acknowledged that Gazala was an asset to the family by taking care of her father and keeping the family close, and was also indebted to Gazala for nursing Shella’s mother before she passed away from terminal cancer. For the women in my study, the relationship between a daughter-in-law and her in-laws was the glue that kept the family together, bridging the generations and maintaining stability, but there are also practical and economic considerations, and Gazala explains:

“We still have duties to in-laws: my father-in-law lives with us. I said to my daughter the other day, when we become pensioners we won’t be able to afford to live on our pension on our own, we will need support like your granddad lives with us. We support him and his pension is his pocket money, and he doesn’t have to worry about heating bills and he is close to his family” (Interview, June 2013).

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Gazala was candid about the financial aspect of a patrilocal system, particularly the importance of elderly people enjoying disposable income in retirement while still maintaining the level of material comfort which they had grown accustomed to, instead of having to worry about lowering their standard of living. Furthermore, by taking care of her father-in-law, Gazala had also demonstrated to her children that elderly people have the right to enjoy a good quality of life, mentally and financially, and that they need to be looked after because it relieves them of anxieties associated with old age such as limited resources, isolation and loneliness. Although Gazala did not hold on to the idea that her children would live with her and her husband when they reached old age, she thought it was necessary to set an example to her children and to show them the benefits of living together and taking care of family, by practicing what she preached. Many of the values Gazala espoused were those she was socialised with growing up, and in the same way she wanted her children to pick up values from the home.

Gazala did not expect her son to take sole responsibility for her and her husband in old age, but hoped that her daughter would also share this responsibility. In this way, she was challenging patriarchal values by instilling the importance of filial duty in her daughter, making it an equal responsibility for both the son and daughter to take care of their parents. Likewise, many of my participants did not expect their sons and future daughters-in-law to live with them, but lived in anticipation that in old age all their children would have a sense of duty towards them. This would only be possible, however, if their own daughters were relieved from the role of being dutiful daughters-in-law.

On another occasion while having coffee with Nadia we discussed the future, and she contemplated her relationship with her sons when they got married.

“My husband’s mother is a widow and we do look after her because she is a widow. It is expected for her sons to look after her, and anything she needs they should provide for her. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, I think it’s a good thing. Although we wouldn’t expect the same from my sons. I would like my sons to visit me when they are older and not cut themselves off me, but I don’t

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want them to live with me because I have done that myself and it’s difficult. I wouldn’t want them to feel the pressure of having a wife and mother in the same house. I don’t think it works with anyone, no matter how nice the wife or mother is. I think every woman needs her own space and her own home. But I don’t want the boys to feel they can’t even talk to me about things, I always want to be there for them. I want them to open up to me if they need any advice or if they want to let off any steam. If I fell ill I would never want them to look after me or nurse me. I would never put that on them or expect that from them” (Interview, May 2013).

Although Nadia did not want to become an overbearing or demanding mother to her sons in old age, having children had brought her closer to her mother-in-law because she was able to understand her better, and to appreciate the importance of a close- knit family to her mother-in-law. Like her mother-in-law, Nadia wanted to maintain a close relationship with her children even when they left home. As with the other women I spoke to, the respect and affection that Nadia earned from her in-laws worked to her advantage by enabling her to strengthen ties between her own family and that of her in-laws. The significance of women creating strong ties between kin and affine has also been noted by Werbner, who argued that it is recognised among Muslim Punjabi culture that women have the power to link two families (her kin with affine) through the transfer of love, and equally she has the power to sever links through hatred. Pakistani Punjabi women are supposed to possess power through patience, and it is this perseverance that gives them the endurance to bear hardship (2000: 259). Nadia invested greater time and effort focussing on her family rather than friends, because family ties not only brought her pleasure, but also offered belonging, and the love and affection that her children received through family could not be achieved elsewhere. Research shows that cultivating these relationships is important, and Western studies have found that family is a significant contributor to personal happiness for all, regardless of cultural background, highlighting how family life is pivotal to contentment and fulfilment (Lu and Lin 1998: 196), which arguably overrides social relationships beyond family.

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These changes in expectations and attitudes between the second and third generation are determined by upbringing. Some principles that were important among the first- generation or second-generation did not have the same resonance among subsequent generations. It is these inter-generational changes that I address further in the following chapter. The close relationship between a mother and her daughter not only enables mothers to pass on certain expectations to their children, but also allows children to negotiate these values and espouse the ones that suit them.

Conclusion

This chapter highlights how, rather than being submissive to a stereotypical patriarchal system that feeds into the rhetoric of Islamophobia (illustrated in Chapter 2), the women in my study have used this system to their advantage. Even though the negotiations with in-laws were tight, the women were far from being the passive victims of a patriarchal system. On the contrary, they were playing the game- exploiting this system for the purpose of gaining capital, status and recognition among their in-laws. While the second generation reaped the benefits of this system through gaining empowerment, they were reluctant for their daughters to go through the hardship that they had had to endure in the early years of their marriage. Therefore, it is less clear if patriarchal values will pass down the generations or be replaced with the nuclear family system that prevails in the West. More importantly, the tension lies in the fact that my participants see benefits in both value systems which are disparate, conflicting, contradictory and therefore difficult to conflate. As mentioned above, the women were noticing subtle changes among the women who were now getting married, because they were not as committed to the patriarchal system compared to themselves. Newly-married British-Pakistani women were discovering new avenues of garnering status and capital, other than from a patriarchal system. The difference between the generation of my participants and the younger generation who were now entering marriage, was that the expectations of marriage had shifted, and the values that mothers passed on to the previous generation were different from the values being passed on to the younger generation. Therefore, the influence of mothers in

174 shaping the values of their daughters is critical in determining the cultural conventions that are passed down, which I discuss in greater depth in the following chapter.

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Chapter 6. A loving daughter

Introduction

During my time in the field, I came to realise that the mothers of my participants were central to their lives. I could not ignore this special relationship and bond between mother and daughter. It was through love and investment that the mothers established a strong bond with their daughters. This special bond between mother and daughter is the missing piece that brings together this thesis. In the earlier chapters, I discussed the importance of belonging, recognition, empowerment, capital, competitiveness, and cultural and religious identities. It is in the home, particularly through the influence of the mother, that these traits and identities have been imparted to the women in my study, and give meaning to middle-class British-Pakistani identity. Certain cultural conventions and traditions were transferred through love and nurture. Daughters reciprocated their mothers’ love and commitment through loyalty and by trying to live up to their parents’ expectations. It was the love, recognition and confidence bestowed by mothers that gave my informants a sense of belonging and self-esteem, and the assertiveness to stand up to prejudice (as discussed in Chapter 2), as well as to pursue their dreams. Their own parenting skills were influenced by their upbringing. Their role as a daughter-in-law was shaped by the values and traditions that their mothers passed on to them. The women in my study considered their mothers to be their role models and inspiration in life. They still looked to their mothers for support and advice, even though they were successful and independent women. It was precisely this relationship between mother and daughter that determined their future, their success and achievements, the values they espoused, and the life choices they made. These not only included religious and cultural values- they also learned from their mothers the art of patience, resilience in times of adversity, determination, kindness and compassion. It was these traits that shaped their relationships in their personal and professional lives. The mothers wanted their daughters to be good wives, mothers, students, professionals, citizens and friends, and to earn the benefits from these relationships and roles.

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I was fortunate enough to be able to interview the mothers of most of my participants. The only mothers that I was unable to interview were those who did not live in Manchester. I was taken aback by the warmth and generosity of my participant’s mothers, as they invited me into their homes and welcomed me as a friend of their daughter. I had merely visited for the purpose of interviewing, not as a guest. I was mindful that time was precious for the mothers I was interviewing, as they led busy lives either working, taking care of family and grandchildren, taking religious classes, or other projects. Nonetheless, I was served lunch at each of the houses I visited, and the mothers had gone through a lot of effort and I felt grateful for their time and hospitality. Although I have only included the narratives of four mothers here, every one of my participant’s mothers that I had the privilege of speaking to had an interesting life history to share, each one unique and equally moving and inspirational. Thus, it was a very difficult task to decide which accounts to include and which ones to leave out.

The mothers shared with me their experiences of moving to Britain from Pakistan. For some it was a lonely time, not knowing anybody in the new country and feeling isolated. The language, culture and way of life in Britain were ways which they were not accustomed to. Some of the women explained that household chores were laborious because in the early years of settling in Britain, many British-Pakistani families lived frugally and did not have amenities like washing machines, dishwashers and household appliances that cut time and effort. Cooking from scratch and handwashing clothes were time-consuming tasks. They worked at home in solitude, longing for the familiarity, friends and family they left behind, while their husbands worked long hours in manual labour jobs. The only control they had was in nurturing their children, and they measured their success on the contentment of their children. As their children grew up, mothers often turned to them as their confidants, someone to share their thoughts, experiences and problems with.

Daughters recognised the hard work and sacrifices their mothers had made to provide the best for their children. Taking time out of their busy schedule to devote to their parents, whether it was to take them shopping, to hospital appointments or simply

177 have a cup of tea with them was an important priority for the women I spoke to. This was their way of expressing gratitude to their parents for their love and support. There were parallels between my own study and that of Yoo and Kim (2010), who studied second-generation Korean immigrants in America. Second-generation Korean immigrants in their study cared for their aged parents out of a sense of duty and gratitude for the sacrifice and hardship that their parents had endured to provide a better life for their children (Yoo and Kim 2010). Talking to the mothers, it became apparent to me to that they were incredibly driven. They had dreams and aspirations which had been curtailed by family and cultural obligations. They had ambitions to go to university and pursue a career instead of being tied down with the responsibility of marriage, in-laws and children at a young age. Growing up in Pakistan, they had looked to their female teachers, heroines in books and female doctors as role models, and explained that the society they belonged to expected women to obey cultural and family obligations. It was common practice for parents to accept a suitable spouse for their daughter early on, because delaying a proposal could mean that the prospective groom’s family would look elsewhere for a suitable bride for their son.

The mothers I interviewed were in their sixties and early seventies. They were from conservative backgrounds in Pakistan. They told me that most women of their generation in Pakistan had been married between the ages of 17-22, and that women were seldom involved with their own marriage arrangements and proposals, which were generally controlled and organised by their parents. Arranged marriages were the norm among that generation, whether they were from an urban or rural background. Among many Pakistani families, in both Pakistan and Britain, marriage was considered as an alliance between families rather than individuals (Werbner 1990: 233). Although a small number of women of that generation had a say in their marriage, or even fell in love and married the person they wanted to, this was atypical and frowned upon among conservative families in Pakistan of that era. They moved to Britain as young brides with their husband, and within the first year of their marriage most were expecting their first child.

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Ambition

Mothers were the driving force behind their daughters. Daughters credited their mothers with their achievements in their education and career. Although most of the mothers I spoke to did not get the opportunity to obtain a higher education, they relived their dreams through their daughters- supporting them, investing time in their daughters and making sure they achieved their goals. Teney, Devleeshouwer and Hanquinet’s studies of educational aspirations among ethnic minority groups in Brussels shows that the children of mothers with high levels of education have higher educational aspirations than those whose mothers are less educated (Teney, Devleeshouwer and Hanquinet 2013: 594), however my findings went against this. Even though most of the mothers of my participants had not achieved higher education, they valued education and had high educational aspirations for their own children. Teney, Devleeshouwer and Hanquinet further argue that there is a correlation between parental aspirations and the academic achievement and career prospects of their children (2013: 586). Granted that many of the mothers of my participants did not study beyond high school, nonetheless their aspirations and the value they placed on education was sufficient for their daughters to succeed in their own education and career.

The mothers of my participants wanted their daughters to complete their education and to be on a career path before getting married. They encouraged their daughters to have a career which would offer them financial independence and security. This supports the work of many scholars focusing on education and success among South Asian Muslim women and other migrants. In her study of academic achievement among British South Asian women, Ahmad (2001, 2012) argues that in addition to academic success, Muslim women are encouraged by their parents to pursue professional careers to gain financial independence. Mothers push their daughters towards education because of their desire for their daughters to achieve an independent lifestyle, so they do not have to rely on or submit to a future husband or in-laws. Financial independence through a professional career provided, in the parents’ view, a form of security in the event of a marriage break down or financial difficulties

179 in a marriage (Ahmad 2001: 145). In other words, parents regarded education and a career as a form of ‘insurance policy’ for their daughters, something they could fall back on in times of difficulty. At the same time, mothers also wanted their daughters to excel in their education and career for personal fulfilment.

Scholars of first-generation migrants have shown a link between migration and social mobility through investment in children’s academic achievements and later professional careers (Fulingni, Tseng and Lam 1999; Modood 2004; Rytter 2013; Shah, Dwyer, and Modood 2010; Yoo and Kim 2010). A lot of pressure and high expectations are placed on the children’s performance at school. For example, Rytter’s (2013: 63) study of first-generation Pakistani migrants in Denmark shows that parents make known to their children the sacrifices they have made to provide a better life for their children, and that therefore it was their duty to take their education seriously and to study very hard. In this sense, Toa and Hong (2000) in a study on Chinese-American students, conclude that children’s academic achievement is seen as a social venture, a means to bring power, wealth and honour to the whole family, and not an individual venture pursued for one’s own needs and interests as in American culture (Toa and Hong 2014: 111). The mothers of my participants embraced similar attitudes. Academic achievement of one child set an example to the rest to follow, elevating the social status of the next generation. One of the incentives for the first generation to move to Britain was to provide a better future for their children, and to achieve social mobility through their children’s achievements. Even more interesting to my own study has been understanding the pressure and expectations placed on second- generation women by their parents, to take advantage of opportunities that were unavailable to their parents in their homeland. This is also discussed in Rajiva’s study of diasporic family life among second-generation South Asian women in Canada. This study highlights that academic achievement of second-generation migrant women is enmeshed in the diaspora’s narrative fabric (Rajiva 2013: 24).

The mothers explained that it was common among the first generation to expect their children to excel academically, and those who did not went against the expected cultural norm. The women in my study told me that while growing up, their parents measured their academic abilities against cousins and friends’ children, and kept a

180 close eye on their progress at school. My participants’ parents had established tight- knit ethnic networks by keeping in close contact with friends who were first- generation Pakistanis, and also relatives who lived close by. These tightly-knit ethnic networks created a closed structure for second-generation youth, making it possible to enforce cultural norms and expectations such as academic achievement (Shah, Dwyer, and Modood 2010: 1112: Zhou 2000, 2005; and Zhou and Bankston 1994). Shah et al mention that education mobilises into a form of capital for some ethnic minority groups (2010: 1112). Shah, Dwyer, and Modood (2010: 1113) mention that Modood (2004) defines this emphasis on higher education and career aspirations for British- Pakistani children as ‘ethnic capital’. Ethnic capital involves the transmission and enforcement of values and aspirations relating to education, and is the reason why so many working-class British-Pakistanis entered higher education. Pakistani parents were mindful of the accessibility of education in Britain and seized the opportunity for their children, to enable them to be in a better position to achieve social mobility (Shah, Dwyer, and Modood 2010: 1112).

The common thread between all the mothers I interviewed was resilience, patience and determination. Many mothers lacked the opportunities to fulfil their own ambitions, but made sure to impart these virtues and the drive for their daughters to pursue their dreams. In the following section I give a few examples of the relationships of some of my participants with their mothers. Interviewing the mothers gave me an insight into their lives and as well as their life experiences. What they had learnt from their own experiences was precisely what they were passing on to their own daughters. Daughters were inspired by their mother’s courage in stepping out of their comfort zone to learn about British culture in order to understand their children’s world, which was so different from their own. When their children were young, mothers expressed their love through affection, nurture and food. As they grew older, mothers became ‘friends’ to their daughters- listening to them, taking an interest in their life, instilling them with confidence, security and self-belief. Daughters expressed gratitude and love towards their mothers by upholding the religious and cultural values that were important to their family.

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Amber’s mother Jamila

Amber had a very close relationship with her parents, particularly her mother. She was one of four children and the only daughter. Jamila was in her mid-sixties. She was an elegant lady and looked much younger than her years. Soon after getting married at the age of eighteen, Jamila moved to Bradford with her husband. She explained that many young Pakistanis at the time were migrating for a better life, saying that Pakistan was a relatively new country and job opportunities there were scarce at the time. Meanwhile, there was a shortage of labour in Britain, which is why so many Pakistanis moved to Britain. It is noted in Werbner’s study of British-Pakistanis in Manchester that there was a demand for cheap unskilled labour in the aftermath of the Second World War to help rebuild the British industries (1990: 5-6). This demand was filled by migrants from the Commonwealth countries such as the Caribbean and South Asia, who mainly came to work in the textile and transport industries. Amber’s father’s older brother had migrated to Britain a few years earlier. He had established his family in Bradford, worked in the railway, and asked Amber’s parents to join him. The prospect of moving to a foreign country was daunting for Jamila, and at the tender age of eighteen she did not feel she was ready to part from her own family, friends and familiar surroundings. She followed her ambitious husband to Bradford, and moved into a large Victorian semi-detached house that they shared with her brother-in-law and his family. Before long they were joined by her husband’s sisters and their families. Jamila’s parents-in-law remained in Pakistan- it was only their children who emigrated to carve out a future for themselves in Britain.

Amber’s father was also indebted to his older brother, who had given him financial support and found him employment. Jamila explained that it was common among Pakistanis for an older brother to settle in Britain, before calling his younger siblings to join him. The mothers I spoke to told me that siblings were usually part of the chain migration, and that parents were usually left behind in Pakistan while their children started a new life in Britain and sent remittances to improve the socio-economic status

182 of their family they left behind in Pakistan.44 Under this set-up, the older brother usually took his younger siblings under his care by providing them with a home, employment, financial support and meeting their needs. Younger siblings were under an obligation to their older brother, and they were dutiful and loyal and lived by the rules and expectations of their older brother. This was a very hierarchical relationship, as younger siblings were under the shadow of the older brother who made family decisions and controlled the family. This position came with responsibility. According to my participants’ mothers, this idea of hierarchy was important because it ensured structure and discipline within a family.

Living among in-laws in a foreign country was challenging for Jamila. Being the youngest adult in the extended family, she was taken advantage of by the other women she was sharing the house with. She was made to do the lion’s share of the housework and was often scrutinised and intimidated by the older women. It was a difficult and lonely time because her husband worked long hours on the railways in Bradford and came home tired. She did not want to burden him with her problems, and put on a brave face instead of confiding in him. Inside she was lonely and sad, longing for the familiarity and love of her own family that she had left behind. Jamila explained that her first few years in Britain taught her about the importance of resilience, patience and forbearance. She knew that she was in a vulnerable position because her husband had very little time for her in the early years of marriage, due to the long hours he worked.

Jamila said that in her case, this arrangement worked because her brother-in-law had her family’s best interests at heart, and he was a kind and fair man with good intentions. Unbeknownst to her at the time, her older brother-in-law kept a watchful eye over her and when she was not around, he reprimanded the other women for their unfair treatment towards her. Realising that Jamila was being unfairly treated, he favoured her over the other family members. Her mother expressed to Amber that her patience was not in vain, and had she made a fuss that her in-laws were unfair to her,

44 Chain migration refers to a process whereby a migrant already working and settled in Britain sponsors a relative to emigrate to Britain. Once the relative has settled and found work they can also sponsor other relatives (Shaw 1988: 22).

183 it would have created problems in the family. Eventually Amber’s father was grateful for his wife’s efforts to keep his family together while he was working long hours in the early years of settling in Britain. Her in-laws also changed their attitude towards her, and started giving her the respect she deserved. By keeping the family together, Jamila made the point that her children could continue to enjoy the company of aunts, uncles and cousins, which was very important to her. She would never have severed ties with her in-laws because she did not want to deny her children a sense of family and belonging.

This impacted Amber in her own life, in particular in her relationship with her own in- laws. At the start of her marriage, relations with her in-laws were fraught. Instead of making an issue out of this situation, Amber followed her mother’s example and persevered with her in-laws. Eventually she won them over and gained their trust and affection, and became a valued member of the family. She told me that the first few years were difficult, but her mother taught her to have forbearance, not to lose dignity over family politics, and always to remember the importance of family. Like she had, her children enjoyed the company of cousins, aunts and uncles from both sides of the family.

When Jamila finally moved into her own house, she was encouraged by her husband to take driving lessons, and he also supported her decision to take English classes at college. She mentioned that not many Pakistani women in Bradford were fluent in English or could drive, and was thus grateful that her husband wanted her to be independent, to be able to meet friends, do the school run and go shopping whenever she liked without having to rely on public transport or her husband. As her family expanded, she turned her attention to her children, cooking meals that her family enjoyed, reading to her children and helping them with homework. Although she enjoyed her independence – she was now living in a nuclear family - and the privacy that came with not having other family members interfering in her day to day life, she also appreciated having family living close by which were company for her, and also for her children.

Jamila had been a model student when she was young, and received a prize at high school for obtaining the top grades in her year in the A-level equivalent exams in

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Pakistan. At the request of her parents, she was married as soon as she finished high school. Academic achievement was a fulfilling experience for Jamila and the other women I interviewed, because they valued learning, and acquiring knowledge elevated their self-esteem. Jamila passed on her love of learning to her daughter, and looking back, Amber realised that her mother’s efforts had shaped her future. Amber cherished the fond memories of her primary school when she lived in Bradford. Her family moved to Manchester when she was twelve. After a few years in Bradford, Amber’s father and his older brother had amassed enough capital to start their own business. They open a shop in Bradford selling Pakistani artefacts and books, some on Islam and written mainly in Urdu, but also some in English. With the success of this business in Bradford, Amber’s father decided to go solo and to open another branch in Manchester. Although Jamila missed her family in Bradford, the move to Manchester gave her greater access to social capital. There were more progressive and socio- economically mobile Pakistanis to meet there than in Bradford, which expanded her social circle. Amber also benefitted from this move because at her new school in Manchester she made a lot of British-Pakistani friends, because she felt they shared similar values and lifestyle, unlike in Bradford. The British-Pakistani friends that Amber made at high school in Manchester were ambitious, and their parents also took a keen interest in their academic progress.

When Amber was living in Bradford, the motivation and support she received at home, along with the recognition she received from her teachers, enabled her to excel at school. Jamila was known to Amber’s teachers for taking a keen interest in her school life, attending parents’ evening, sports days, open days, school performances and other school events. Tramonte and Willms, in their study on the effects of cultural capital in education, argue that experiences at home are pivotal in helping children to adapt at school and to succeed academically, highlighting the importance of ‘relational cultural capital’, which they define as investment in an ongoing relationship between parent and child that goes beyond economic capital (2009: 1). Relational cultural capital entails the engagement and promotion of cultural interests. Academic achievement and career aspirations are not only governed by teaching practices, but also influenced by practices in the home (Tramonte and Willms 2009: 3).

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Amber felt that her teachers at her primary school had favoured her over other British- Pakistani children because she stood out, being smartly dressed and a good student. At the school gates Jamila was immaculately dressed, taking pride in her appearance and keeping her hair in the current fashion. Amber said that her family were not the same as other British-Pakistani families in Bradford because of their attitude to education, integration and differences in lifestyle. The other British-Pakistanis she came across in Bradford were more conservative and less inclined to relinquish the values and traditions they were raised with in Pakistan. The fact that her mother took a keen interest in her education, dressed well following both Pakistani and European fashion, and made sure Amber always looked smart bolstered her confidence. The love of fashion and style was an interest that both mother and daughter could bond over, particularly when Amber entered adolescence. They spent their leisure time shopping together and looking through style magazines. For Jamila, having a shared interest with her daughter was an investment in establishing a close and loving relationship. There was no school uniform at Amber’s primary school and unlike Amber, the other British-Pakistani children at her primary school were dressed in traditional Pakistani dress and their parents were less involved in their school life.

In contrast to Amber’s family, many of the Pakistanis in Bradford were from a rural background in Pakistan. Amber’s family were urban, albeit also from a working-class background, and in Pakistan they were accustomed to a metropolitan lifestyle. This meant that in Pakistan Jamila and her family did not live in social isolation, they interacted with middle-class people on a daily basis at school, in their neighbourhood, at work and socially. This is where Jamila and her family became familiar with and began to espouse middle-class traits such as placing importance on the value of education, speech, deportment, dress, aspirations and lifestyle. Although Amber’s family had been working-class in Pakistan, it was their drive, aspirations and ambition that enabled her family and relatives in both Britain and Pakistan to achieve socio- economic mobility. Amber’s parents’ generation in Britain and Pakistan had achieved financial success through business, bringing them up to middle-class status. They then made sure that their children maintained this status through education.

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While living in Bradford, the other British-Pakistani children at school played among themselves, but Amber played with other English children.45 She was the only British- Pakistani at her school to have birthday parties similar to those of her English friends, with party food such as sandwiches, crisps, cupcakes and a birthday cake, and children’s party games like ‘musical statues’ and ‘pass the parcel’. She was also the only British-Pakistani at school to be invited on play dates and to parties by the English children. Jamila felt that she was reaching out of her comfort zone to understand and also to engage with the world that her children lived in. Unlike the other women in Bradford, Jamila and the other mothers of my participants expressed their love to their children by opening themselves to the world in which their children lived. Adopting certain British customs such as food, clothes and lifestyle was not only beneficial for the children’s wellbeing and belonging, but also impacted their self-esteem, giving them the confidence to set themselves high achievement goals.

As a teenager growing up in Manchester, Amber said that she was given more autonomy than other British-Pakistani girls she knew. Being the only daughter, she was also doted upon by her father. Her father bought her a car when she passed her driving test at the age of 18, enabling her to meet up with friends in the evenings and weekends. The fact that her parents placed so much trust in her made her not want to abuse the freedom she was granted. The term ‘freedom’ came up many times in conversation with the women in my study and their mothers, in terms of their desires for freedom. Freedom meant autonomy and independence, and not everyone in the same family had access to it in the same way. Amber lived away at university at a time when it was not common for British-Pakistani girls to live away from home.

It was common among first-generation Pakistanis to impose strict rules on their daughters because the fear of gossip was rife among the first generation. Parents were fearful that their daughters being out at night might be a cause for gossip among people in their community and neighbourhood, as many lived in close proximity to other Pakistani families. For some, holding onto cultural identity such as dress codes and expectations equated to morality, and Westernisation, such as in dress and

45 As I mentioned in Chapter 2, my participants use ‘English’ to mean ‘White British’.

187 attitude, was frowned upon. Many scholars observe that the function of gossip among British-Pakistani groups was to curb unapproved behaviour, particularly among young women, because they embody the family honour (Bolognani 2009; Dwyer 2000). These studies show that gossip and moral panic function as tools of social control, a pivotal means of monitoring the behaviour of young women (Dwyer 2000: 478). Gossip had a similar impact on the women in my study, and functioned as a deterrent to curb certain behaviour when they were growing up.

Jamila claimed that a solid religious and cultural grounding from an early age meant that children would be less likely to abuse the freedoms they were given. This was common rhetoric among the women in my study. All the mothers I interviewed believed that the way to foster a close relationship with their children was through love, attention and meeting their needs, and that chastising them only had negative consequences.

Amber’s parents aimed to invest in their children emotionally and financially, which would in turn ensure their children’s loyalty to their family, culture and religion. Jamila felt that children who were estranged from their cultural and religious heritage and family were those whose parents were strict and had failed to understand the challenges British-Pakistani children faced in trying to conflate two very different cultural conventions. Amber’s parents wanted to make this an easier task for their children, so they would not forgo their religious and cultural commitments under the pressure they faced. Also by investing in the needs of their children, they knew that in return their children would be close to them and acknowledge the sacrifices their parents made to provide a better life for them. Jamila saw that the other Pakistani women in Bradford had not been ambitious and therefore did not pass on this zeal for learning and achievement to their children. She could not socialise with many Pakistani women in Bradford because they clung onto the values and ideas from the society they had left behind in Pakistan, and did not think it was possible to conflate modernity with culture and religion. Jamila wanted her children to have the self-esteem and confidence to be contenders in British society and not to be marginalised through a lack of integration. She believed that it was possible to conflate Muslim, Pakistani and British customs. These were the ways that Jamila found to distance herself and her

188 family from their working-class Pakistani neighbours in Bradford, and her aspirations had a direct impact on Amber.

Amber credited her mother for her success and achievement in life. She stated that she would not have accomplished such success in her career as a solicitor if it wasn’t for her mother’s support and encouragement to do well at school. The fact that Jamila took a keen interest in her education helped her to excel at school and at university. Amber said that her mother placed importance on appearance in dress, career and independence to empower her daughter and to enable her to access social and cultural capital.

Gazala’s mother Naheed

Naheed and her husband moved to Britain with their two infant sons in the early 1960s. They had moved for the same reasons as Amber’s parents, to take advantage of the job opportunities to pursue socio-economic mobility, and were also from an urban working-class background, like Amber’s family. They wanted to provide a stable future for their children, knowing that Britain had an excellent education system and that by exploiting this, their children would have a better chance in securing a good career. Unlike Amber’s parents, they were not part of a chain migration, and had no other relatives in Britain. Like many other Pakistanis couples who moved to Britain, her parents sent remittances to family back home to help improve their standard of living.

Naheed was overwhelmed by loneliness and cultural difference in Britain. The only way she coped with this was to focus her attention on her young family. Not having any other relatives in Britain, she devoted her time to her children and kept them close to give them a sense of belonging in a country which was so unfamiliar to her. She invested time in her children, knowing that love and nurture would give them a solid grounding and strengthen their bond. Commitment to family was paramount to Naheed:

“Motherhood is like a full-time job. On a job, you cannot lapse or take breaks when you like. Same with raising children: you do it wholeheartedly with

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attention and dedication. If you don’t invest love, time and dedication they will not be close to you or respect you. You have to look after them properly and care for them. Make sure their emotional needs are also met and sacrifice your own desires and feelings to keep your family close” (Interview, December 2013).

She dedicated her life to raising her six children and bestowed upon them the love and attention that she had craved as a child, because she had lost her mother at the tender age of six. Although she was doted upon and cared for by her maternal grandmother, it did not fill the void of losing her mother.

When the children reached school age, Naheed learned to cook and bake the foods the children ate at school, and also learned to host children’s birthday parties like the other children at school. Naheed told me that she expressed love and comfort through food. This is not an unusual phenomenon, and is highlighted by D’Sylva and Beagan (2011: 286) in their study of Goan immigrants in Canada. Their study found that mothers expressed love to their children through food. Food became a form of power to bring family together, to communicate and more importantly, to connect with loved ones (D’Sylva and Beagan 2011: 285). Naheed said that she became skilled in making dishes that she had never cooked or eaten before moving to Britain. From recipe books and experimenting with different recipes, she learned to cook pizza, pies, pasta, noodles and cakes. She explained to me that the experience of raising children grants mothers the skills of a chef and the knowledge of a doctor. Stepping out of their comfort zone by trying to understand their children’s world and experiences was a way for mothers to invest in their children, so that in return children would show love and loyalty to parents, and also respect their values. Naheed placed importance on emotional investment in children in helping impart values, espousing a close relationship by listening to them and meeting their needs. She went on to say

“The way you behave with children from a young age impacts their relationship with you when they are adults. You reap what you sow and if you invest love, affection, time, patience in your children from a young age they will reciprocate this love, trust and respect. Be a friend to your child, be close so they are able

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to talk to you and confide in you without feeling embarrassed or having the fear of consequences” (Interview, December 2013).

Being the eldest daughter, Gazala occupied a privileged position where she shared a relationship with her mother that was more akin to a friend and soul mate. This emotional bond created a strong relationship of love and devotion between mother and daughter. If Naheed needed advice she turned to Gazala, and also shared her inner thoughts, apprehensions and experiences with her. It is suggested by some scholars such as Eichenbaum and Orbach (1988) in Rastogi and Wampler’s (1999: 328) comparative study of adult daughters’ relationship with their mothers among South Asians and Mexicans in the USA, that the needs of women who are the primary care- givers to young children are often not met, because they are caring for others. Consequently, mothers project their lack of agency onto their young daughters, which enables their children, as they are growing up, to learn to understand the needs of others (Rastogi and Wampler 1999: 328). Gazala reflected on the period when she lived with her parents with great fondness. Mother and daughter looked forward to spending time in each other’s company, which they did by sharing household chores and interests such as baking and sewing, which also deepened the mother and daughter bond. This enabled Gazala to get to know her mother as a person, beyond the maternal figure, which she was to her younger children. She also turned to her mother for advice and support, particularly now that her own children were entering adulthood. She appreciated the comfort and support she had received in her life from Naheed, who listened patiently when she needed someone to just listen to her. She was mindful of the fact that she could turn to her mother anytime for help and advice, and that her mother still looked out for the wellbeing of all her children, although they were adults and led independent lives. Gazala’s emotional needs were met by her mother, which gave her self-esteem and added to her well-being.

However, Gazala had had a lot less freedom to go out and socialise than her siblings. Older daughters lacked the freedom that their younger siblings enjoyed. This lack of freedom for older siblings equated to not being allowed to study or work away from home, being expected to agree to an arranged marriage, or having a curfew when they went out. She was the first-born daughter after two sons, and she also had two

191 younger sisters and a younger brother. Gazala had declined an offer to study at university in London, knowing that her parents would not approve of her living away from home. This was a real concern for parents, as many studies have shown that although Muslim parents encourage their daughter’s education, they are also worried about the threat of external influences from the host country, such as pre-marital sex, drugs and alcohol which they think is a preoccupation in British society (Shah and Iqbal 2011: 773-774). Shaw points out that parents were extremely worried about Western influences upon their children (2000: 155). Many Pakistanis look down on Western society because they think that sexual morality is lacking in the West. There is an assumption that women in the West dress provocatively to entice men, leaving them under the impression that Britain is a society of low moral standards from which they ought to protect their children. Ghaffar-Kutcher’s research on Pakistani-American youth suggests that parents view Islam as a superior culture to ‘Americanisation’, which they see as spiritually and morally corrupt, and religion serves as a moral compass for everyday life (2014: 2-3). Instead of encouraging assimilation, they tried to recreate the homeland in the host country through imagined nostalgia. Even to compromise these values seemed a threat, and added to the fear that the cultural values they were raised with would become diluted, and eventually dissipate within a few generations.

Gazala’s parents were still finding their way, living in Britain and trying to integrate without losing their values. Her older brothers were given more independence than her, and were allowed to go to concerts and parties, and to stay out late. I discussed this with Gazala’s mother and she explained that cultural expectations were the reason why Gazala was given a lot less freedom than her brothers. Nesteruk and Gramescu’s study on dating and the selection of potential marriage partners among ethnic minority groups in the US illustrate that gender double standards in relation to boys and girls is commonplace among South Asian immigrants, and the behaviour of daughters is closely guarded by parents and the people they know within the ethnic community to which they belong (2012: 42). Many authors have also noted that women are regarded as ‘keepers of culture’ in South Asian immigrant families. Gender double standards in relation to boys and girls seem to be the norm, and the reputation

192 of the family rests on the behaviour of female family members. Patriarchal family traditions become a tool to construct gender hierarchy within the home and to establish boundaries to normalise women’s behaviour (Hennick, Diamond and Cooper 1999; Malik 2009; Nesteruk and Gramescu 2012; Rajiva 2013). Rayaprol’s (2005: 138) study of Indian migrants in the US showed that the pressure to conform to cultural traditions was placed on girls, whereas boys did not face such pressure. Similarly, in Dwyer’s study of diaspora identities among young British South Asian women, British- Pakistanis of Mirpuri decent were aware of gender roles and parents relied upon them to be the guardians of culture and religion (2000: 477). Although my participant’s heritage was not from Mirpur, nonetheless they shared a similar viewpoint.

The mothers I spoke to felt that there was a real threat of losing their cultural values in the host country, which is why gender expectations and pressure on women to conform to cultural traditions were so important to the first generation. Many of the mothers in my study imposed so many restrictions upon their elder daughters because they lacked experience of life in Britain and feared the unknown. Although Malik (2009) worked with the Pakistani diaspora in Australia, his work resonates with my own findings because both studies show that Pakistanis become more protective of their values in host countries. Malik notes that a concern shared by Pakistani migrants is that the norms and values that prevail in the West, such as blurred gender roles and sexuality, are antithetical and a threat to Pakistani patriarchal family values (2009: 174). Over time, familiarity with life in Britain eventually removed the threat that the unknown posed. In addition, having a network of Pakistanis around them, such as family and friends, had given parents the confidence to impose fewer restrictions on their children.

As time went on, parents realised that being overly strict with their children would alienate them, which would have more serious consequences. Su and Costigan mention that in Cheng and Kuo’s (2000) study of Chinese immigrants in the US, overbearing behaviour, dominance and pressure from parents to force their children to espouse their cultural values created resentment, causing children to rebel and eschew their cultural heritage and ethnic identity (Su and Costigan 2009: 659). The

193 mothers of the women in my study also had to tread that fine line, and create a balance between the two tasks of keeping traditional values alive and trying to accommodate the new.

Naheed gave into her youngest daughter by allowing her to move to London. She also realised that British-Pakistani women’s attitudes towards marriage were also changing, and she could not expect her younger two daughters to have an arranged marriage or to look after their in-laws, knowing that her daughters were too independent to conform to certain cultural conventions, and that any pressure to do so would push them away from her. But the fact that attitudes of other British-Pakistani families around her were also rapidly changing gave her reassurance that she was not alone. She mentioned that her daughters’ ideas and values were shaped through the experiences they gained and the people they met at university and work, which made it unrealistic and unfair to impose her values on them. Rytter notes that it becomes a problem when the generation gap between parents and their children who are second-generation widens as a result of their children’s academic and career achievements, and their lifestyles and ideas become very different from those of their parents as a consequence of social mobility (2013: 64). Naheed understood it was better for British-Pakistanis parents to grant their daughters more freedom to prevent the threat of alienating them.

Gazala explained,

“Our generation has slowly influenced our parents: we are changing and influencing our parent’s views. And when we feedback to our parents our views, slowly it changes their views and sometimes it antagonises them. My mum was worried about my sisters that they were not married yet. I told my mum, you never know it can still happen, it may not happen in the traditional way. Maybe the way you wanted my sisters to get married, they would have had to have a similar lifestyle to me, like having to deal with in-laws and the expectations, and maybe they couldn’t deal with that. The interesting thing that my mum said was that she had been thinking the same thing, and maybe they could not have handled the expectations that would have been there if they went down the route of traditional marriage. They had more freedom of

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thought and they had seen a lot of marriages, and they probably thought they did not want that for themselves” (Interview, December 2013).

Gazala felt a lot of respect and gratitude towards her mother for accepting the changes that were taking place around her, and for supporting her children in the decisions they made. Gazala realised that this was very difficult for her mother, particularly as her background and life experiences had been so different from those of her children. Firstly, Naheed had had to step out of her comfort zone to recreate the food her children enjoyed at school and host birthday parties for her children similar to the birthday parties of their English school friends. Secondly, Naheed had had to give into the pressures of the society in which her children belonged, and accept the life choices and decisions they made. Saying that, it was through patience and love that Naheed was also able to establish the values that were important to her and to keep her family close. She was able to strike a fine balance of maintaining certain values and expectations while compromising others, for the happiness of her children. Essentially, the mothers of my participants were negotiating values. To avoid the possibility of alienating their children through unrealistic and strict norms, the mothers kept the boundaries flexible. They were aware that their children were going to be influenced by the society they lived in, and in order to fit in, they had to adapt to some of the changes and norms of that society. Giving into their children was not a failure on the part of the parents. Rather, they saw this as negotiation skills, as a way of maintaining certain values and keeping the family close. Children expressed love towards their parents by showing them respect and having a close relationship with them. As the expectations of parents gradually changed, children tried to live up to those expectations and stay within the boundaries, although these boundaries were widening and changing over time.

Hina’s mother Misbah

Gazala was not only the person I spoke to who had been denied the independence that her siblings enjoyed. Hina’s upbringing was very similar to that of Gazala. Hina was also the eldest in her family, and like Gazala she was given a position of respect and

195 authority over her younger brothers and sister. The age gap was small between Hina and her siblings, but they still had to show her the utmost respect. For example, Hina stated that being the eldest, she was addressed as baji by her younger brothers and sister as a form of respect. Having this position of being called baji gave Hina authority over her siblings The Bedouins in Abu Lughod’s (2000) study also espouse hierarchical relationships such as older siblings having precedence over the younger ones. Hina appreciated the position of authority her parents gave her. Both her parents listened to her opinions and sought advice from her. Hina played an active role in both her brothers’ weddings, not only in approving the bride but also in choosing the venue, guest list, menu and other wedding and pre-wedding arrangements.

While I have mentioned that the mothers of my participants were born and raised in Pakistan and came to Britain after getting married, Hina’s mother Misbah was the only exception. Misbah’s father was one of the first Pakistanis to settle in Manchester in the 1940s. Through chain migration more relatives came and settled in Manchester. Misbah was born in Manchester and grew up there for most of her childhood, spending a few years in Pakistan during her adolescence before returning. I was intrigued, because technically Misbah was second-generation British-Pakistani, but she was sheltered from Western influences growing up, and her values and upbringing were more akin to her contemporaries born and raised in Pakistan. For example, she was expected to stay at home after school and at the weekends, to socialise with family and to help with household chores instead of going out with friends. Misbah had not felt that she needed to be like her English peers at school who were going out, partying and dating, because she enjoyed her home life being among siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, and embraced the values she was raised with. Misbah was ambitious and hard working at school and wanted to become a doctor, but was unable to fulfil her ambition as she was married at her father’s request at the age of sixteen, after completing her O-levels.

Sadly, her mother died when Misbah was an infant, and she was raised by her father and step-mother. Her father thought it was in her best interest to get her married as soon as possible, as she did not have a natural mother. He believed that his daughter would be fulfilled through her role as a wife and mother, instead of having to help

196 raise her half-siblings who were a lot younger than her. Her father arranged her marriage with his close friend’s son who had moved from Pakistan to join the rest of his family in Manchester. Misbah’s husband had moved to England through chain migration to help in his older brother’s textile manufacturing business in Manchester. Misbah spoke about how the void created by the loss of her mother was filled through the love she received from her husband and children. But family life did not quench her thirst for knowledge. Instead, she was very involved in her children’s education as they grew up, reading to them and helping them with homework. She encouraged her children to work hard at school, particularly her two daughters, so that they would be financially independent, and also fulfil their ambitions through having a career which would open other opportunities to them.

Both Hina’s parents were influenced by the elders in Hina’s father’s family, particularly Hina’s eldest paternal uncle who lived close by and was the head of the family in Manchester, responsible for all the family decisions. Due to pressure from her eldest paternal uncle, Hina did not have the family’s permission to live away while at university. Her family expected her to get married as soon as she graduated in English Literature from the University of Manchester. Misbah’s in-laws were very over- powering because her brother-in-law was not only the eldest in the family, but also wielded power through his wealth. He had set up Hina’s father in Manchester, which meant that Hina’s parents felt a sense of obligation towards him. The family elders also included Hina’s grandparents in Pakistan. Asking for their approval and advice on family matters such as marriage was a sign of respect, and to reassure them of the continuation of family expectations such as hierarchy. Some of the mothers explained to me that their generation revered the elders in their family, as well as their older siblings. The elders were their parents, grandparents and uncles and aunts. Elders were very important among the first generation as they were the guardians of culture. Although they were in Pakistan, the women still sought their advice and did not make important family decisions without consulting them.

Hina married her eldest paternal uncle’s son after graduating from university. Her paternal relatives made this decision because they thought it was a good marriage

197 proposal, assuring Hina’s parents that their daughter would be well looked after, financially and emotionally, by her husband and in-laws. Hina’s parents went along with the decision, believing it would be in the best interest of their daughter, and as it was a decision made by the elders in the family whose opinion and approval mattered to them. A few years into her marriage, Hina realised it would never work because of irrevocable differences. Hina did not want to delve into the details of her marriage, as it was still upsetting to her even after so many years. It was only after Hina expressed her unhappiness in her marriage that her mother’s attitude changed dramatically. Misbah finally stood her ground and broke away from the control that her in-laws exerted over her. She could no longer fulfil the expectations of family and please them at the expense of her children. Hina explained that her mother’s change in attitude also influenced her father. Although divorce was not taken lightly in Hina’s family, her parents were very supportive of her decision. It dawned on Misbah that although she was a devoted mother who spent her time nurturing her children, she had neglected their need for greater autonomy, and that the strict rules imposed by family were not working in her children’s best interest.

After the divorce, Hina moved back in with her parents for a few years and her mother concentrated on helping Hina. During that period, Hina’s parents took responsibility for their three grandsons so that she could go back to university full-time to train as a radiographer. Even after Hina moved into her own home, her mother continued supporting her with childcare and other domestic chores. Consequently, Hina’s younger sister, who was only a few years younger, was given considerably more freedom than Hina had been because her parents had realised that the happiness of their children superseded expectations from family and society. They learnt from their experiences that certain expectations were unrealistic in the society they lived in, and imposing such values could possibly alienate their children or have a negative impact on their wellbeing. Therefore, they granted their younger daughter permission to live an independent life in the United States. Hina’s younger sister was not put under pressure to get married, but her mother encouraged her to marry anyone for love, as long as they converted to Islam. Although I agree with Rytter (2012: 576), who argues that among Pakistani migrants, marriage is still considered family centred and is a

198 union of two families rather than the union of the bride and groom, most women in my study were moving away from this idea and expected their children to find their own marriage partner. Attitudes towards marriage had changed dramatically for the different generations in my participants’ circle. Exposure to Western culture and society influenced the values of immigrant parents, and over time they became more accepting of Western dating and marriage traditions, enabling the second generation to choose potential marriage partners for themselves (Nesteruk and Gramescu 2012: 43).

Hina realised that life hadn’t been easy for her mother, bringing up children while living up to the demands and expectations of her in-laws. Hina became even closer to her mother after her own marriage broke down. The fact that Misbah stood up to her in-laws, whose shadow she had lived under for many years, was a testimony of her love and sacrifice to Hina. Hina’s unhappiness in her marriage was a turning point for Misbah, a realisation that she had to forgo certain traditions for the well-being of her children. Without Misbah’s physical and emotional support, Hina knew she would not have achieved her qualifications and success in her career. To Hina, her mother was her best friend, someone she confided in, who understood her, and was a source of support and strength. Misbah’s patience, resilience, sincerity and devotion solidified this mother-daughter bond.

Farah’s mother Khalida

I was eager to meet Khalida as I had heard so much about her, and I knew she was pivotal in Farah’s life. Khalida had been widowed for over 10 years. The death of her husband was a devastating blow to the family: it had been unexpected as he was young and healthy. Soon after the tragic loss of her beloved husband, she suffered a major stroke that left her severely disabled and dependent on care. Khalida lived in an apartment in central Manchester which she shared with her son, and his wife and children. I accompanied Farah to visit her mother, and we received a warm welcome at the door from her brother and his wife. The apartment was a new-build and open plan, and the narrow hallway led to the bedrooms and living area. We were led into the

199 living room, which opened up into the dining area and kitchen. Khalida was sitting in her wheelchair watching old family videos on the large-screen plasma TV attached to the wall. Although she was infirm, she still took pride in her appearance. She wore a black chiffon blouse and comfortable black trousers, her hair was tied neatly in a bun, and her nails were manicured and varnished. Farah leant over to greet her mother, and kissed her on her cheek. Khalida then stretched out her arm to greet me. She seemed very happy to see Farah and I. Farah’s mother was as warm and welcoming as I expected, and was looking forward to contributing towards my research.

Amber’s family knew Farah’s family and her in-laws very well, and had told me that Farah’s parents were very well known among British-Pakistanis in Manchester. Her parents had been very sociable, and were part of an extensive social circle in Manchester. Through her parents’ connections, Farah and her sister knew many British-Pakistani families and had established close friendships with other British- Pakistanis. Khalida was a vivacious woman, just as I had envisaged. Khalida and her husband came from a privileged background- her father was a successful judge and was well known in Lahore. Growing up, her parents constantly entertained guests, and she enjoyed being around people and the glamour of dressing up for parties. Farah’s parents moved to Britain in the late 1960s, just after getting married. Her father came as a postgraduate student, as did many of their close friends and family who migrated during the same period in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Farah’s parents wanted to recreate the atmosphere of back home. At that time, the Pakistani community in Manchester was small, and news soon spread among those who had already settled that a new couple had arrived. Very quickly, they got to know several Pakistanis families, and at the weekends they hosted dinner parties for their new friends and their relatives who had accompanied them from Pakistan. Farah’s parents became well known for their hospitality, and were soon very popular among British-Pakistanis in Manchester. Farah’s father also liked to socialise and entertain, enjoying the excitement of having people around. Their weekends were busy, either being invited to dinner parties or hosting dinner parties themselves. Through food, music, clothes and company they were re-creating a little of what they had left behind in Pakistan.

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Khalida did not experience the loneliness and isolation expressed by the other women I spoke to.

Farah drew my attention to a home video of one of her parties when she was a teenager. I had heard from Amber that Farah and her sister Zara were very popular among British-Pakistanis in Manchester when they were young, and were known to host the best parties. Watching the video evoked poignant memories, overcoming Farah and her mother with emotion. Farah’s brother’s wife, who was preparing lunch, joined us. She told me that her mother-in-law enjoyed watching home videos, particularly the ones of Farah and her sister Zara’s parties. Khalida explained that she watched the videos to replay the time when she was independent and able bodied, the matriarch of the house caring for her children and husband, and she sighed and lamented that she missed that period in her life terribly.

In the video Farah, Zara and their British-Pakistani friends were all dressed in their finest shalwar kameez, looking glamorous with hair and makeup done for the party. The video showed the sisters and their friends dancing to Asian pop music. These parties were an opportunity for Farah and Zara to get together with their friends, dress up and have fun, and more importantly to engage in and celebrate their cultural heritage in an exciting way through food, music and clothes. Khalida explained that it was critical to make culture appealing, and it was not fair to deprive British-Pakistani youth of fun, otherwise they would resent their cultural and religious upbringing, and yearn to engage in the same activities as their English friends, which conflicted with their cultural and religious values. Essentially, Khalida had created a social space which Werbner describes as ‘diasporic spaces of identity’ in her study of identities among British-Pakistanis, thus focussing on shared celebrations and communal values which unite British-Pakistanis (Werbner 2013: 411). According to Khalida, hosting these parties when her children were young was a very important way of belonging in Britain, and a way to connect with their cultural heritage. Socialising among British- Pakistani friends meant that Farah and her sister did not have the pressure to conflate two often conflicting and contradictory identities.

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Khalida pointed at the screen when the camera was on the food. She proudly said that she had prepared all the food on the table: the roast chicken, samosas, assortments of kebabs, pasta, selection of salads and several desserts such as trifle, cheesecake and chocolate cake. Food for the women in my study was an expression of love, a way of bringing family and friends together, and a marker of cultural heritage. Afsar, Aiken and Franks note that among first generation Pakistanis women, hospitality and food were an integral part of their culture and networking (2006: 175). Culture is created, perpetuated and endorsed by women and transmitted through food, stories and networks within the domestic sphere- therefore it was not surprising that Khalida wanted to show us the food she had made. South Asian identities were celebrated among friends, as illustrated in the video we were watching.

Cultural and religious values were also paramount to Khalida. Not living among other Pakistanis was the impetus for Farah’s parents to make an effort to expose their children to Pakistani culture and, more importantly, to instil a strong Pakistani and Muslim identity. Khalida and her family lived far away from their friends, and there were no other Asian families living nearby. Farah and her siblings had been the only Asian children at their primary and secondary schools. The fact that they lived in a predominantly white neighbourhood meant it was important to Khalida to make sure that her family socialised with other Pakistanis on a regular basis. Khalida inculcated her children with cultural and religious values from a very young age, so that they would embrace this identity and not be confused or abandon the values instilled at home. Her children learned to read the Quran in Arabic, and also learned the obligatory Islamic prayers from their paternal grandmother who had lived with them when they were young. Khalida spoke to her children in Urdu and constantly reminded them of their cultural and religious expectations. She regularly took her daughters to khatham Quran at friends’ houses, as a way of passing cultural and religious knowledge on to her daughters.46 Farah and her siblings were required to fulfil certain

46 Khatham Quran means the completion of the Quran. This religious ritual involves the host inviting female guests to her house, to read a chapter each form the Quran, completing the full recitation of the Quran in one sitting. After the Quran is completed, food is served to the guests (Werbner 1990: 256).

202 obligations, such as accompanying their parents every weekend to visit their parent’s Pakistani friends.

Khalida explained,

“It is important to be in tune with children when they are growing up, and be aware of the challenges they face. As a mother, it is important to be quick thinking, use your brain and show empathy, and put yourself in their shoes to understand what they are feeling. If culture and identity is strong in the home, there is no threat: the children will be fine in the outside world and will have the confidence to overcome challenges. It is important to assess each child’s personality, look at them as individuals, and bring them up according to their personality and needs” (Interview, November 2013).

According to Su and Costigan, this approach of instilling obligation to family aims to keep children close within the fold of the family, and to slow down the process of acculturation (2009: 655). As well as instilling a strong religious and cultural identity in her children, Khalida was mindful that her children were interested in popular British culture, and she did not want to deny them this. Like the other mothers I interviewed, she was able to pass on the values and expectations important to her through love and investing time in her children. Farah’s parents took their children once a week to the cinema and to a restaurant of their choice. This was their way of engaging with their children’s interests and creating close bonds and trust through investing time in their children.

Farah told me that she felt very lucky to have an open relationship with her mother, and that she could approach her mother to seek advice on any topic. She was proud that her mother had stepped out of her comfort zone to understand the world that Farah and her siblings lived in. Khalida invested in Farah and her other children by devoting time to them, asking them about their day when they came home from school, and taking an interest in popular culture to feel connected to her children.

Khatham Quran is held as a thanksgiving and to reap blessings for hosting the event, and also for reading the Quran (Werbner 1990: 258).

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Farah enjoyed her mother’s company, her vivaciousness and zest for life. She looked up to her mother for how she had balanced a work/home life- working in retail customer services, she had maintained her children as her priority. Khalida maintained a happy and nurturing environment at home, which Farah appreciated.

I watched Farah speak lovingly and gently to her mother. She held Khalida’s hand tenderly, and softly asked her about her appointments that she needed to take her to. I was moved watching Farah speaking to her mother with such patience, love and affection. Farah found it painful to imagine what her mother would be like if she hadn’t had the stroke, and was living a full and independent life: working, socialising and taking care of her grandchildren. As we left the apartment, Farah said that it made Khalida very happy that I had come, because she looked forward to having guests. She explained that the disability had made her mother very isolated and lonely, particularly when prior to the stroke she had been very independent, having a career and a busy social life. Now friends seldom visited and she had become dependent on others.

Farah explained that she wanted to bring her children up exactly in the same way as her parents had. She was inspired by her mother’s ability to conflate religious values, culture and worldly interests, illustrating to Farah that she did not have to sacrifice her religious and cultural values in order to have fun and to integrate into British society. Khalida was her role model, and Farah realised that her parents had devoted their life to their children, and her mother had taken the time and effort to establish a family life that would bring her children happiness and security. Gratitude was also expressed through loyalty and commitment to faith and cultural heritage, which was fundamental to the first-generation Pakistanis migrants. On becoming parents themselves, my participants realised the salience of cultural and religious values and the desire to pass these onto their children, recognising the threat of these values being eroded by the conflicting values and behaviour prevalent in the West.

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Conclusion

The love and sacrifice from the mothers led to their daughters having the possibility of expanding their chances of personal improvement, and furthering their social, cultural and economic capital. Therefore, despite the fact that the mothers felt that they had not fulfilled their own ambitions for higher education, their love of learning was not in vain as it enabled them to take an interest and be involved in their children’s education. The support given by the mothers instilled their children with the self-belief and confidence to fulfil their own ambitions and career goals. This was a family project on the part of the parents, providing opportunities for their children that they had never had. For the mothers, their daughters acquiring socio-economic mobility through education and career would be a positive reflection on the family, and set a precedence for other siblings to reach their potential. Financial independence from their husband’s family gave them the autonomy to live a life they chose, and to only carry out the social obligations that they wanted to. Financial independence gave the women the power to make choices and select the cultural conventions that earned them capital, and to overlook the ones that were constraining.

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Chapter 7. Conclusion

My research has explored the rather complex and interesting lives of middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester. My observations have given me a deeper insight into the lives of these women and what it means to be a middle-class British- Pakistani woman. The role and status come with challenges, contradictions and dilemmas. The women were responsible for observing cultural expectations of taking care of in-laws, fulfilling the religious obligation of caring for parents, being good mothers and accomplished homemakers. At the same time, they were also trying to balance western feminist ideals of being successful independent career women. They were becoming more devout and knowledgeable about their faith while following worldly pursuits, such as cutting-edge fashion and an interest in popular culture. My research highlights how middle-class British-Pakistani women in Manchester have agency; they upheld the values that suited them. These findings contradict the image of Muslim and Pakistani women as victims of a patriarchal system made popular by the press and media. In reality, the women in my study were exploiting this patriarchal system as well as their religious and cultural conventions to increase their chances at maintaining and improving their status and influence. What to outsiders would seem like a contradiction – the juggling of apparently antithetical values – was to them a simple fact of life as second-generation women in Britain.

The women in my study were realising that they were in a unique position, in that their experiences were different to those of other middle-class migrants in Britain. Against the backdrop of Islamophobia, they had to prove that they were worthy of their status, not just as middle-class women, but as British Muslims who deserved recognition for upholding British values. Meanwhile, they were also aware of the notorious reputation that British-Pakistanis and Muslims garnered in the aftermath of the Rushdie Affair and, some years later, as a result of the 9/11 terror attacks in New York and the 7/7 bombings in London.47 British-Pakistanis are faced with double discrimination, for being Muslim and Pakistani, seemingly undesirable identities as reinforced by the

47 Most of those behind the 7/7 terror attacks were British-Pakistanis.

206 press and the media. In their day to day lives, my participants were contesting these negative images of Pakistanis and Muslims in Britain. In spite of this, they were proud of being British-Pakistani, and felt they had no reason to feel ashamed. For my interlocutors, Pakistani culture represented exuberance, sophistication, wealth and excitement. They looked up to middle-class Pakistani nationals in Manchester and saw them as a symbol of status and capital, situated at the top of the social ladder. The image of Pakistan and Pakistanis that they celebrated was the antithesis of the one established in the British press and media. Similarly, the women were proud of being Muslim, and they looked for opportunities to celebrate their religious identity. Positive recognition and respect for their cultural and religious heritage was fundamental for their esteem and sense of self, particularly in a climate of Islamophobia. More importantly their middle-class status was recognised and celebrated through their ethnic, cultural and religious identities. The women felt it was important to pass on this sense of pride in their cultural and religious heritage to their children. They achieved this through socialising among British-Pakistanis friends, and also depended on the influence of family.

The climate of heightened media prejudice and every-day antipathy towards British- Pakistanis and Muslims were the reasons why many of the women I observed turned to family, religion and British-Pakistani groups of friends to create a sense of belonging and acceptance. The negative stereotypes of British-Pakistanis and Muslims in the media made it challenging for them to feel accepted and respected outside of their ethnic and religious group. In a world which felt increasingly hostile towards Muslims, it pushed many British-Pakistanis I met closer to their faith and cultural heritage. Although family had always been central to the lives of my informants, family was more important than ever now, not only for love, care and belonging but also to instil certain values. Essentially, the connection to family, faith, friendships and cultural values enabled the participants in my research to overcome prejudice and, more importantly, help make sense of the world they lived in. These strategies were important to the women as ways of carving a place they chose to embrace, where they felt they had some control over their own choice to belong as middle-class working women who were also committed and engaged with their culture and their families.

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Thus family, British-Pakistani, and British-Muslim friends have been pivotal in the lives of my informants in terms of belonging and acceptance - manifested through the recognition of sameness, such as shared experiences of minority status, upbringing and values. This was not an act of self-segregation but an outcome of feeling marginalised. The women in my study were aware of being judged for their cultural and religious differences, which overshadowed what they felt that they shared or had in common with white British people. For example, their attempts to forge friendships with white British mothers at their children’s school, or people in their workplaces, lacked reciprocation. Furthermore, my participants believed many white British people chose to ignore their middle-class status because it clashed with the image of British- Pakistani and Muslim women as being submissive and from an alien culture. Consequently, their social positioning was defined through acceptance of their ethnic and religious minority status.

Belonging offered a social arena where they could compete with each other, a level playing field where everyone understood the rules and how to play the game, dictated by cultural and religious values. This presented an alternative way of earning capital and asserting their middle-class status. British-Pakistani Friends had a dual purpose at social gatherings- they were competitors and allies. The ability to impress friends, and at the same time be their competitor, was something to be desired. At social gatherings, the women relied on friends to promote their merits, and also the achievements of their children, to a well-informed audience. They counted on this form of publicity to earn social capital. They thrived on this fiercely competitive environment because recognition and capital gave them a sense of power and influence. I used Bourdieu’s (1984) notion of social field and capital and Goffman’s (1956) concept of performance to explain this competitiveness among the women I observed. Those who amassed the greatest capital gained credibility among friends and family, which led to greater power and autonomy. These women were not skilled in every aspect of their lives, but engaged in social fields which were often overlapping and changing, enabling them to display their particular strengths and attributes according to the social field in question, which earned them prestige and capital. Adapting to different social situations was key, through having the ability to recognise

208 the identities which amass capital. Essentially those with greater power and autonomy defined the boundaries of belonging, and specifically what credentials earned capital. The women in my study had the agency to decide how and where they wanted to belong, and to gain recognition.

Mahmood’s notion of ‘positive freedom’ (2005: 11) helps to explain the women’s practices of exploiting certain religious and cultural conventions as a way of earning capital. Certain cultural values were used as barriers in the way of choices, to make the process of acquiring capital all the more challenging in the same way as Mahmood’s positive freedom. With so many requirements to fulfil in order to earn status, the women were never complacent, but were always striving to increase their potential. Thus, my interlocutors conformed to particular values and accommodated others, depending on their circumstances and their audience. What was absolute, and concrete was the idea of adhering to a set of values and expectations to create this illusion of sameness which helped them to identify with others and to establish a sense of belonging. It is through this idea of identification of sameness that the women were able to amass capital, respect and recognition among family, friends and those they interacted with at work and in the local community.

As mentioned above, the potential for acquiring capital was greater along the lines of shared identities, lifestyle, upbringing, values and common experiences. Therefore, friendships with British-Pakistanis and British-Muslims earned the women more capital and recognition than friendships among their non-Muslim and non-Asian friends. This is not to say that close friendships were only possible among people of similar cultural and religious backgrounds. Social interaction with non-Muslims was critical to establishing a favourable image of British-Pakistanis and Muslims. Participation with charitable projects in their local area such as in school, work, neighbourhood and through their local mosque, were ways in which my interlocutors were contesting negative stereotypes of Muslims and British-Pakistanis. Engaging in philanthropic causes was empowering for the women, knowing that their actions were challenging the negative image of Muslims and British-Pakistanis, albeit at a grass roots level. Through their achievements such as in their careers, they were demonstrating that

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Muslim women were not submissive, but accomplished, competitive and influential, akin to their non-Muslim counterparts. They were also motivated to prove to other middle-class migrants in Britain, as well as to white British middle-class people, that they were deserving of recognition of their middle-class status and their positive contribution to British society. Furthermore, they were aware that as migrants, it was their duty to seize opportunities in Britain, knowing that if their parents had not migrated they would be less likely to establish a secure future for themselves and their families in Pakistan. They appreciated the sacrifices that their parents had made in leaving their homeland and relatives to provide a promising future for their children.

This competitive, driven spirit was perpetuated through the generations. The mothers of my interlocutors had instilled them with confidence and esteem, encouraging them to reach their full potential. Their upbringing resulted in my participants becoming zealous mothers, having high expectations of their own children. The mothers of my participants were not only influential in instilling a competitive streak in their children, but also in passing down certain religious and cultural values. This is why many of the women I worked with believed that their attitude towards their in-laws reflected their upbringing and the values their mothers had passed on to them. Being a dutiful daughter-in-law, a good mother, accomplished in the domestic sphere of cooking, entertaining and homemaking, was a reflection of their upbringing – the skills and values passed down from mother to daughter. These values were passed on to ensure their daughters were empowered and had status in their married life as well as their professional life. For example, my participants understood the power of patriarchy, but instead of viewing it as a system of oppressing women, they used it as a tool for empowerment. Recognition from in-laws brought them honour, respect and belonging, and made them a valued member of the family. With this status, the women became autonomous and were given trust, love and support from their in- laws. This is what mothers wanted for their daughters: to be successful and empowered in both the private and public domains. To achieve such capital and status, the women in my study had to be very competitive among their British-Pakistani friends and family members.

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By playing the role of a dutiful daughter-in-law, they were setting an example to others, such as valorising certain values and standards which they expected their brother’s wives to also live up to, and for their daughters-in-law to live by when their sons got married. Thus, in such situations, they promoted a patriarchal system to serve their interests. Many women embraced the patriarchal tradition of either living with or caring for their in-laws, because this role was a means of obtaining power, status and capital: an example of positive freedom (Mahmood 2005). It was up to them how much recognition and empowerment they wanted, and the greater the challenge the more power they gained.

At the same time, many of the women did not want their own daughters to experience the burden of this custom, having to live up to certain expectations and abide by strict rules early in their marriage. While the women observed patriarchal values such as the expectation of daughters-in-law to integrate with their in-laws, they were also paving the way for the next generation by making subtle changes such as encouraging filial duty, and creating a more egalitarian system where responsibility for caring for aging parents rested on both the daughter and son. These nuances meant that the ideas of duty to in-laws, the expectations of in-laws, and ways of belonging were becoming more fluid and negotiable over time, and also ambiguous and sometimes contradictory. On the one hand, the women upheld certain expectations of women towards their in-laws and were disappointed when these expectations were not met, especially by their brothers’ wives. On the other hand, they exploited religious rhetoric to justify duty to their own parents, and also wanted their own daughters, when they got married, to show greater commitment to them than to their in-laws. What they knew, however, was that times were changing and all they could do was to impress upon their own children the values of obligation and love that had been dear to them, to their own sense of belonging to a British-Pakistani identity. Family values were changing and being influenced by two contrasting values systems: religious rhetoric that condemned patriarchal marriage customs, and also the nuclear family set-up that prevailed in the West. They were noticing that British-Pakistani women who were getting married now were less likely to observe the patriarchal culture, and more inclined to move towards a nuclear family set-up. The women were unsure of how

211 certain cultural values would sustain subsequent generations, although they were noticing that visual piety and religious identity was increasing among the younger generation.

My interlocutors looked to their own parents as an example of how to bring up children. They learnt from their parents that some of the traditions and customs they endorsed had to be modified over the years, to keep up with the changes in values and expectations in the wider societal context. A close relationship between parents and children made negotiation of certain expectations easier. Parents trusted their children and gave them more autonomy and independence, and children tried to be dutiful out of love and gratitude. Belonging in the home was also important to make sure that children had an affiliation to parents and siblings. Therefore, in the experience of my participants growing up as second-generation British-Pakistanis, the idea and desire for freedom was very much enmeshed with the idea of belonging in the family, and the longing for acceptance, recognition and esteem. Instead of searching for this from their white-British peers, at school or in their workplace, they achieved the recognition and status they craved in the home. More importantly, second-generation British- Pakistanis did not want to let go of their cultural and religious values because they believed that, not being white, they could never fully assimilate. Therefore, it was critical to them to take pride in their heritage. Belonging through family and other middle-class British-Pakistanis added meaning to their lives, giving them a sense of worth, recognition and dignity through a positive association and representation of their religious and cultural background. This confidence through belonging and achievement enabled them to be British-Pakistani and Muslim on their own terms, such as being proud to express that they were British through their visibly Muslim identity.

Since leaving the field, many changes have occurred in the lives of my participants. Firstly, most of the women have resumed their careers now that their children were in high school, and some had left home for university. They were no longer as involved in the mosque as they had been, due to work commitments. However, a number of my participant’s children attended the youth club organised for teenagers at South Manchester Mosque 1, where they socialised with friends. Soon after my fieldwork, I

212 was informed that Syrah and her family had moved to Pakistan. She had expressed many times during my fieldwork her desire to move back to Pakistan, to be near her siblings and parents. Ruby was very busy with her career, and also with her daughter’s swimming lessons. She accompanied her daughter to training sessions, swimming competitions, and tournaments around Britain. She was encouraging her daughter to become a professional swimmer, representing Great Britain. Unfortunately, Serena had lost both her parents in the space of three years. She had devoted many years to caring for them, putting her career on hold. Now that her children had left home and her parents had sadly passed away, she now kept busy with her career and travelling. I was no longer in touch with many of the women I worked with because of their work and personal commitments. I am curious about the new phases in their lives, how the changes in their lives have shifted their concerns, interests and affiliations, and the effect of these changes on their sense of belonging and identity.

If I returned to the field now, Islamophobia would continue to be a topic of concern among the women. They would undoubtedly feel that Muslims are still a marginalised group. Since my fieldwork, there have been several terror attacks by those claiming to be Muslim, in France and Belgium, and a ‘lone wolf’ attack in London. Stories of these attacks still make sensationalist headline news. In addition to this, the stories about the Pakistani paedophile gang in Rotherham have remained in the headlines. Although these criminals were caught in 2013, some of their victims were waiving anonymity and sharing their stories of abuse in the media. The bad reputation of British-Pakistanis and Muslims seems to be lingering.

As the women that I worked with have entered a new phase in their life, having a career and grown up children, I am interested in discovering whether they have continued to have influence in shaping their children’s values. Were the expectations that my participants had of their children realistic? I would like to find out if patriarchal traditions are as important, and if marrying outside of their religious and ethnic group was becoming more common or acceptable. Returning to the field would be very interesting, enabling me to discover the values and expectations that had stood the test of time. This was a challenging period for the women, as their power and influence were shifting and they were faced with new demands and expectations. This thesis, in

213 this sense, has given me the opportunity to examine the lives and identities of middle- class second-generation British-Pakistani women in Manchester at a specific point in time. It offers a temporal focus into their ongoing endeavour to belong.

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