In Defence of Muslim Husbands

For all those Muslim men getting an unfairly bad rap...

Disclaimer: This is a fictional work! I'm not actually talking about my husband (as great as he is, masha'Allah).

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My husband is patient. When he does get upset, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and seeks refuge in God from Satan before opening his eyes and smiling at me to show that all is forgiven. Tom across the street screams at his wife Dora until she cries.

My husband is romantic. When he’s late coming home from work, I know he’s not cheating on me with the secretary... he’s stopping by the halal Chinese restaurant to pick up the chicken dumplings he knows I love, with a bouquet of roses to apologize for not answering my phone call. Angela’s getting a divorce because Richard was caught making out with his partner at the office – twice.

My husband is honourable. When he’s out with his friends for the weekend, I know he’s not out at the pub flirting with the waitress... he’s at the mosque mentoring teenage boys and plays basketball with the guys. Lana hates that her boyfriend spends his weekend nights at the local seedy strip club, enjoying women who aren’t her.

My husband is supportive. When I got my new job, he helped me balance my schedule and helped pick up with the chores around the house. When I got my promotion, he took me out to dinner and we celebrated all night. When my paycheque exceeded his, he never asked me for a penny and would insist on paying for the milk I picked up on my way home. Julia confided that her husband resents her success, and demands that she pay half the rent.

My husband is chivalrous. Even when we had the worst argument in the history of our marriage, when he slept at his mom’s house for a week, he never laid an angry hand on me. Brad across the street hits his wife whenever they have a fight, and we can all see the bruises under the sleeves of her shirt.

My husband is an involved father. He takes the girls to karate every Wednesday and then buys them ice cream on the way back. He gives them piggy back rides and changes their baby brother’s diapers when I’m busy. Jack down the road yells at his kids to stay out of his way, while he spends his days on the couch with the TV and a bottle of whiskey.

My husband is chaste. I’m the only woman he looks at with that look of adoration and thorough appreciation. I love it when he undresses me with his eyes, because his eyes don’t look to any other feminine figure except mine. Cindy found her husband’s inbox full of pornography subscriptions.

My husband is honest. When he makes a mistake, he admits and tries to do better. When he is proven wrong, he humbly accepts it and seeks to rectify his error. George blames Brenda for anything that goes wrong, and refuses to take responsibility.

My husband is respectful. He treats me as a complete equal, an individual in my own right. He listens to what I have to say and never belittles my opinions. He empathizes with my feelings even if he doesn’t agree. He places me on a pedestal and never demeans my efforts at home with the kids or at work with my colleagues. Tom criticizes Susan about her education at a small-town college, about her part-time job, and about her size-14 figure.

My husband is playful. He’ll tickle me until I cry with laughter. He’ll play Twister with me until we fall on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. He’ll dress up as a clown for the kids’ ‘Eid party, even though his boss is there. Michael the C.E.O. is rarely seen cracking a smile, even at his son’s baseball game.

My husband is generous and soft-hearted. He can never walk by a panhandler without dropping at least a dollar into the beggar’s hand. When the teenage prostitute sashays up to him, her eyes blank and staring, he gives her the business card for the women’s shelter and gives her ten dollars to buy herself a decent meal. The guy behind him pulls her over for a grope and an appointment at the motel down the street.

My husband is spiritual and religious. His big beard doesn’t conceal his ever-present gentle smile. His British-Arab accent doesn’t hide the wisdom of his words, or the humour of his jokes. The mark on his forehead is from when he goes out to pray in the woods, to commune with nature and communicate with God – not a sign of his terrorist tendencies. His heart encompasses the love of God, the love of the Prophet, the love of his parents, his wife, his children, his community, and humanity.

My husband is a Muslim husband!

(Copyright Zainab bint Younus aka AnonyMouse al-Majnoonah)