Under Your Mother’s Feet: A Continued Conversation With Sadiyah Bashir
“When you become a mother, that’s a weight…The idea that what I do for them could make or break their paradise is amazing to me.”
“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare. “ — Audre Lorde
As Black femmes, we have always known that survival is an act of resistance. As Muslims, we are reminded that our existence is the result of divine intention and Allah honors us over and over in scripture and in hadith. Our beloved Prophet Muhammed (PBUH), says, “Heaven is under the feet of your mother(s).”
As we continue our Spotlight Series with Sadiyah Bashir, poet and author of Seven, we invite you to think about these two juxtaposed intersections as it relates to Black motherhood and intentionally holding space for Black womanhood. Black femmes are seen as caretakers and martyrs, but having to strap on the survival of ourselves and the collective in this white supremacist, capitalistic society is daunting. As the past few months have reminded us, the world has already assigned us violence: either in death or as we try to navigate it in a myriad of ways.
Yet, survival is embedded in us. It is ancestral. The question is, how do we move beyond merely surviving? To fully live, to just be and to thrive? What does it mean to define ourselves beyond survival and strength? What does it look like for folks in community to go beyond individualism? It is the naming of these things, getting to the root of alchemy — a ritual of bringing these communities to life.
Sadiyah expresses her personal experiences on Black motherhood and artistry while we envision what it looks like collectively to be in an interdependent community of radical self-care. Healing does not happen in isolation; the most radical thing we can do is to choose self-love. To build a community of chosen family, that holds you accountable, loving, and affirming whatever that looks like for you with persistence, intentional effort, and learning to trust yourselves and others.
Below, you will find the transcribed version of the second half of Sadiyah’s interview with one of the Drinking Gourd Magazine’s co-poetry editor Nyuma. You may also listen here.
Nyuma: What do you believe your role in society and an artist is? How does that tie in with leaving an archive for the future generation to read?
Sadiyah: I’ve started to think about this now as a mom. This year has kind of shaped itself in ways in which by Allah’s graces I’ve had to think, what do I want my legacy to be? For me people follow me on social media, they know my username is @idabwellin.
Nyuma: In your poem “For Layan,” I peeped that line, it was a play on words.
Sadiyah: The main thing is that it takes from like Ida B. Wells. I just remember studying her life as a Black woman in very scary times. We still live in very scary times, as Black people. In very scary times, they took the use of the written word as a way to spread truth in a way that people just weren’t doing before. I’m looking to be in the tradition of ancestors who used the written word to tell the truth. I feel like a lot of Muslims have this thing where it’s like, you have to be the first hijabi this or the first hijabi that. I don’t care. Especially because I’m like the reality is I’m probably not. You might think, “I’m probably the first documented person to do this on Twitter.” But when you look at our ancestors as Black people and as Muslims, you aren’t the first person to do this and you aren’t gonna be the last. I just want to be within that circle of ancestors that tell the truth. For my legacy, I want people to be able to study my life and to say that she spoke the truth.
Nyuma: In what ways has being a newfound mother impacted you as a Black Muslimah artist? What ways has motherhood have made you critically self-examine yourself as a mother but also an autonomous being of art creating art? What are the intersections?
Sadiyah: I had to examine how, being Muslim, you always hear: paradise lies at the feet of your mother. And holding your mother three times higher. But when you become a mother, that’s a weight. That somebody else’s Paradise is at my feet. The idea that what I do for them could make or break their paradise is amazing to me.
Nyuma: That’s a lot of responsibility.
Sadiyah: I never had that conversation with anyone, not even my own mother, about that responsibility. On top of how heavy that responsibility is when you’re raising a Muslim, we’re also raising a Black person. Conscious parenting is essentially, what I always thought being a parent as a Muslim is supposed to be. As they grow up and they learn fundamentals, that presents patience, presents critical thinking, presents mental health tools that they’re going to need in life. As opposed to the “they’ll learn someday” approach to parenting. I’m in a parenting group specifically for Black parents. It’s just very interesting to see how a lot of us, because of white supremacy, didn’t have parents that were truly nurturing to us as children. We had parents who had to parent in terms of survival. There is generational history that’s passed down, and we don’t even know where it comes from.
Dr. Joy DeGruy has a book called Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome. In the first chapter, she explains how as Black parents, there are a lot of things that we learned from slavery that got passed down, consciously or unconsciously. Now in 2020, it’s just an unconscious thing that we do. For example, she explains how the enslaved mother would tell the slave owner that her son was lazy, shiftless and good for nothing as a survival technique, so her son wasn’t out on the field all day where he possibly could die. Okay, we get to 2020 now, and two moms are talking about their children’s accomplishments. And the Black mom will be like, “Yeah, he got straight A’s, but he didn’t clean his room so he’s lazy” as opposed to just accepting the compliment for your child. Because we’ve had so many years of parenting for survival, I’m trying to step out of that. For example, none of my siblings beat our kids.
“As a Muslim child, fearing Allah was instilled in me…As an adult I’m having to do the work to unpack that.”
Nyuma: And the older generation thinks why don’t you beat your kids, how do you punish them?
Sadiyah: So now we have to figure out how we can teach discipline without teaching punishment, or physical punishment. As a Muslim child, fearing Allah was instilled in me. And if you disobey your parents you’ll go to hell. As an adult I’m having to do the work to unpack that. So, absolutely we are going to teach our daughter to love Allah, because He is worthy of being loved. We will talk about fear, we will talk about sin, we will talk about hell when it is time for that.
Nyuma: Right, why do we need to traumatize our children, especially given that they have such inquisitive minds, in order to teach them all these vital things about life, love, acceptance, and forgiveness.
Sadiyah: Exactly, I’m like no, kids don’t go to hell, kids don’t have sins — none of that. We will we will find ways to teach her that when the time comes but, until then, we’re going to teach her love because she understands love. Like, we give her a hug, she understands that that’s love.
So it’s having to step in and do that. And it’s also very hard, especially because I work full time. It’s trying to find ways to instill that within her, especially with this work life balance, but trying to find ways to, still keep her on a track that I feel is beneficial for her, while I’m also working all the time because we live in a capitalist society.
Nyuma: Right, oh my God. The ghetto — I hate it here. (oh my god.) (laughs.)
Sadiyah: So it’s also like trying to balance that as well and then having the communication with my husband and be like, “This is how we want to parent her or this works for me and my childhood. This, I don’t feel like really worked for me and my childhood,” and kind of having that open conversations with one another to like figure out how we want to come together as a unit.
Nyuma: Nah, I’m here for all this sis, this is great, awesome. I’m not a mother so I’m very grateful that you feel comfortable enough to share your experience and your lens of what it is to not only incorporate conscious parenting, but Blackness and like overall what it means to bring up and raise, healthy young children but also accept their innocence and allow them to fully thrive and be children. And I think oftentimes Black people allow our children to grow up way faster than they needed to.
Sadiyah: Right, absolutely no. Also, I’ve been reading, “All About Love: New Visions” by bell hooks.
Nyuma: I recommend that book to everybody because it literally changed my life and my framework of what I think about love.
Sadiyah: The next thing I want to say was that the book was recommended to me by a friend of mine. She was basically like, I recommend anyone read this and, especially being someone who is in a romantic relationship. She was like,”You should be reading this with your husband. And both of you guys having conversations with one another to define what love means to you.”
We’re now on the chapter about community and it touches on how, as parents, Americans have always set it up as like, Mom, Dad, daughter, son, that’s the perfect American family. Right? It makes it seem like your community is just that — mom, dad, son, daughter. bell hooks was talking about how we have to be intentional about the community that we also create for our children as well. Because the more community that they have, the more allies that they have. And the more ways in which they can express themselves and be themselves and learn from different people. She gave an example of her goddaughter having an issue, about getting an allowance and her having to step in and kind of mediate. If you don’t have that community, you don’t know you can have someone there who can mediate and squash an issue before it becomes something bigger and possibly something greater.
“I was loved by so many and cared for by so many different people from different walks of life. I think about how you know how important that is for me, and that’s another thing that I just want to share with my children.”
Nyuma: Honestly, I’m so here for the proponent of building your community. And allowing yourself to incorporate all these different perspectives, and building on and centering joy, and emotion and what that means to be human. And allowing us to figure out what it means to communicate, and have these open ended questions and really think of what these universal terms mean. Everyone thinks of it differently because of their lived realities, get to the root of what that means and, not making assumptions kind of thing.
Sadiyah: Absolutely. bell hooks was essentially saying, it may not go perfectly every time but nothing does. Establishing and creating your own community, especially for your child just allows for so much flexibility, space and learning. Honestly, I think about how I grew up with people from all walks of life. When I was a kid, I had a best friend who was Somali and a best friend who was from Cameroon. I would be eating fufu one day and sambusa the next day. Different things like that gave me a love for culture and beauty and taught me empathy for different people. My best friend who was Cameroonian and her grandmother did not speak a lick of English and I was somehow still communicating with this woman. I was loved by so many and cared for by so many different people from different walks of life. I think about how you know how important that is for me, and that’s another thing that I just want to share with my children.
Nyuma: Yes, like just a deeper appreciation of people that may not resemble you or have like the same lived experiences, but honoring them by giving them the same respect and love that you will give to yourself, and people that are kin. And like, just honor what it means to be human.
Sadiyah: Absolutely. I don’t know where my life would be without fufu.
Nyuma: Honestly, fufu slaps. Shout out to my momma and her cooking. Shout out to the Gambians. I’m slightly biased, not slightly, I’m really biased. I’m gonna say it, right here right now. Gambians make the best jollof rice because we never in the category.
Sadiyah: Literally at my wedding I commissioned two of my best friends — one who was Nigerian and the other is Somali — mamas to make me rice. So I had Somali race and I had jollof rice.
Nyuma: Ayye, best of both worlds baby, I’m here for all of this.
Lastly, what message/takeaways would you like to let people, specifically Black Muslims get from this? What would you like to tell them?
“I feel like for Black people across the diaspora, it’s so punched into us that we have to be great…No one can ever catch us slipping.”
Sadiyah: That it’s ok to be ok, it’s okay to be calm with yourself. The portion of my life that I’m trying to move with is being patient and being merciful to myself. I feel like a lot of that is what I learned from my Black Muslim upbringing that you know — there was, essentially that thought process of, “You have to be three times better to get twice less.”
I remember growing up and hearing things that me being Muslim and me being Black, we don’t do mediocre. We only do excellent. We only do perfection. Being Muslim has its own weight and then being Black also has its own weight. So, I became such a huge critic of myself to the point where it was detrimental to my mental and physical health. I feel like for Black people across the diaspora, it’s so punched into us that we have to be great. It’s so immense. No one can ever catch us slipping. Because of that, I didn’t learn a lot of stillness. I didn’t learn a lot of calmness. I didn’t learn to accept myself as I am rather than how I want to be or how other people want to be. But I’m excellent because Allah made me excellent and sometimes just that reminder is good enough to get me through the day.
Nyuma: Having acceptance for our humaneness, whatever that looks like every single day. Right, or wrong is so subjective. Prioritizing yourself over everyone else and being okay with what you’re doing, with moving forward and just learning and accepting.
Nyuma: Thank you so much Sadiyah for doing this for being honest, transparent and vulnerable with me, all of these things and sharing your experiences and feeling comfortable enough to do that and everything. I’m sending you love and light and joy and blessings to you and your family and I wish you nothing but the best in this life and the next and all the sunshine and rainbows and sunflowers and all of that in glitter, lots of glitter.
Sadiyah: (laughs.) We love a little razzle dazzle. Oh my gosh. But yes, I appreciate you guys so much. Thank you for reaching out to me. I appreciate it. I’ve had so much fun.
A final note:
“Black people are technology.” — As, we see ourselves now, in resiliency, we are the innovators of a world of imagination that will materialize the future that consists of anti-Blackness. Avant-gardes of a new world order of liberation, freedom, justice, radical love and truth because Allah is always on the side of the oppressed.
