Campus Perspectives: University, every Muslim girl's dream?

A life on campus is what most students dream of when coming to university: a microcosm of sexual diseases and greasy cuisine all festering within the landscape of libraries and late-night kitchen raves.

But was this my dream?

The argument over me going away as opposed to staying home for university was long, arduous and worth every exhausted emphasis of my need to ‘find myself’ over the next three years in a self-contained bubble away from the culturally regimented, neo-fundamental (and I can back this up with political readings), loving yet loathing glare of my small and hectic mother.

As someone who like most students, was sheltered in some way before university, I relished the chance to be theologically challenged, intellectually stimulated and most importantly – quite literally free. York of course was the obvious choice; not only because it is a highly respected institution in the fields of both English and Politics, but also for its situation: in the midst of green hills and cobbled streets, rather than the intense urban madness that I sought to escape when coming here from London. Whilst my mother found it difficult to accept that her original plan for me to go straight from her house into my husband’s had quite clearly fallen through, she accepted my need for an education and, rather begrudgingly, to do a course I actually enjoyed.

I knew what I was getting myself into and was ready to embrace whatever came my way with open arms (unless it was a man), but when it came to alcohol I found that there are two different ways in which a tee-total person can experience inebriation on the behalf of others.

Most environments I entered were incredibly welcoming. The Charles for example, can recognise me from a mile off for all my dedication to its creaky floorboards and vegetarian sausages. However, when you’re around those who drink, not to enhance social interaction but to obliterate all memory of it…well, I found myself wishing that I was somewhere different, and that I was someone different. Someone who could handle the loneliness and alienation one can feel when in the midst of a culture fundamentally different from one’s own.

Not to say that I haven’t managed to work my way around this – I am unashamedly a dancer when it comes to hearing music I love. Whilst I’ve stayed away from the core three haunts of the York night scene during my time here – let’s just say that the friendly old man at the Duchess welcomed me back from the summer, when I went for a boogie before the start of Fresher’s Week. I can’t figure out whether it’s the headscarf or alarmingly green trousers, but they always seem to spot me coming...

Despite all the challenges I’ve faced in coping with university and religion, the grass has been greener on the other side: I live to talk, and university is one of the great places in life where you can do that with a whole host of characters.

What I’ve thoroughly enjoyed is finally having the balanced lifestyle I’d always craved, talking to both sexes in equal measure and being treated as an intellectual, not something to be feared and misunderstood, because of my religion. I’m fortunate enough to have male friends who destroy all my mother’s suspicions of male and female interaction, although that still doesn’t stop her from giving the occasional lecture on how it’s not healthy to spend so much time with men.

There is of course the common minority who will always assume that deep down you’re such a die-hard traditionalist that you’ll come back from the summer married to Muhammed McMuslim, bringing his three existing wives and plethora of fundamentalist prodigies with you, but those people aren’t worth the time if they have let their own prejudices come in the way of getting to know you.

Having suffered from serious inferiority complexes since being bullied at a young age, I’ve always felt the need to assert myself as someone people can be comfortable with. This was crucial in making the decision at the age of 11 to wear something around my head which would distinguish me as different. Such extroverted behaviour has only done me good, placing me within my friendship groups as someone who is ready for dialogue, and exposing me to perspectives I’d never had the opportunity to consider before when it came to my faith.

People come to university for all sorts of things – mostly self-discovery, I find – but I think I came primarily to find out exactly what it is I believe. These beliefs have been clarified through several crises of faith, (some of which have happened in V-Bar), ridiculous incidents involving vodka (I should point out now that I am still a proud tee-total and always will be) and most importantly, through the daily challenge of attempting to live a life purely for the next world when everything around you is so focused on this one.

I cannot deny the difficulties confronting a young Muslim woman on a university campus, but an open mind, an open heart and a good pair of coloured trousers can make things a hell of a lot easier than you would think.

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