Her words brought up the ultimate issue for South Asian women as we reach and then pass the age of 30: are our lists of “must have this” based on our unrealistic desires or have we matured enough to know the difference between whimsical want and realistic need? And if not, is it so bad to want whimsy?

A close friend of mine has been searching for a man that has a baby face and a thin frame for the past ten years. On her 31st birthday she ran out of fingers counting all the 20 year old boys she had been attracted because no man her age had a baby face. Well, not the single ones anyways. Another friend cried on her 29th birthday wanting to know when she would be rescued from her life by a guy. At 29 she is the Vice President of marketing at a successful media agency, but had somehow not let go of the desire to be saved by prince charming. Both these women have been pursued by all types of successful, good looking men, to no avail.

These same women bash those of our friends that married men that are a little chubby, a little dorky and perhaps a little less professionally successful. Often I find myself joining the bashing and making comments like, “God, she should not have settled.”

But after watching that episode of Sex and the City I thought: eureka, they didn’t settle, they realized that falling in love with the person was more important than marking off a checklist in their head. And voila I matured in that moment. This left me to wonder whether I had been wrong all these years trying to find “Mr. Right” when I should have been deconstructing my own needs and evaluating myself more.

– Sana Mehmood

When NEEM Magazine met with the three guys during their visit to NYC the conversation was fluid and  entertaining, very unlike a typical interview with celebrities.  They seem to have matured in their sphere as artists, going from their hit “2-Step Bhangra” to their newest album “Breaking Barriers.”  The newest album includes amazing singles including “Against All Odds,” “Heer Ranja,” “On the Dancefloor,” and the charity single “One Voice.”  And much like the title of their album, these guys have been breaking barriers since the beginning.

The The Bilz and Kashif, Montreal based group, started off as a dance-pop sensation.  They were known by every club going South Asian that danced to their creations.  They showed the world that three young South Asian guys could break the pop/bhangra barriers in North America.  And with their newest album, they are breaking a new barrier:  the “labeling” barrier.  Not wanting to be “categorized” as just “club music” or dance music, they guys got together and poured their souls into their newest album, and it shows.

As Kashif noted, “This album is different.  It’s a new flow and new way of thinking.  We wanted to show the different sides of us.” Vicious, who is rapping on this album, agreed, “The album covers all types of topics, from dance to making love.”  With the “Against all Odds” single the Bilz and Kashif depict the everyday struggle that people go through.   Kashif, “It’s a real story.  In the video we see struggle.  A DJ working on his craft, a man working in a restaurant but inspired to write music.  People can relate to having to work hard to achieve something.”

The album, no doubt, showcases each of the group members and their backgrounds.  Master D, whose mother is a singer that taught him both singing and the harmonium, brought in influences that range from classical music to the compositions of R.D. Burman and A.R. Rahman.  Vicious’s DJ background was apparent in the ubran feel of many of the songs.  And Kashif’s song writing ability made you think about setting up a bubble bath, lighting some candles, and immersing yourself completely.

So check it out yourself:  their album is out!

– Neem Magazine

As I walked into SATC 2, I braced myself for the potential barrage of ”Orientalist offensive material” that I had been reading about.  And I walked out of there amused by the jokes, contemplating the depiction of married life, and wondering why Muslims have begun to scream “foul” for being depicted in a manner that is not ideal.  After all, if we cannot call a house a house, but must call it a mansion – aren’t we responsible for skewing the issue?

As Carrie Bradshaw would say, “When it comes to understanding each other in a relationship, when does sensitivity become over sensitivity?  When did we, a people built on calling a spade a spade, decide that we can describe a spade but cannot call it out?” In the post-9/11 era, Muslims have dealt with various forums of racism, negative media attention, and a government that seemed bent on making it increasingly difficult for American-Muslims with the Patriot Act.  But, in the recent years, after much work by Muslim activists, there has been a sea change:  Hollywood has begun to lend a kinder eye to Muslims, Jon Stewart has taken on a balanced view, and the government is working towards bettering relationships with American-Muslims and Islamic countries. However, in that spirit ofactivism, somehow American-Muslims, and our sympathizers, have fallen into a terrible and self-made trap:  we demand pity and want the world to turn a blind eye to our flaws.  And that is what Sex and the City 2 does, it calls out our flaws as Americans both on screen and off screen.  On screen, the movie depicts the self-consumed nature of most Americans when we visit another country.  Off-screen, it shows us that American-Muslims can’t take a joke or even accept reality.

The arrival of the SATC 2 women in Abu Dhabi was not much different from my own reaction when I stepped foot in Saudi Arabia for the first time.  Greeted by women wearing burkas, opulence in the ways of palaces and Louis Vuitton stores, and searing glances from men that could not understand why a woman was walking around “uncovered.”  And as an American-Muslim woman, I was more than agitated when I had to don a burka in order to walk around the streets of Riyyad.  Much like the women of SATC 2 when they stepped foot on middle eastern land, I did not take a vow of piety, celibacy, or cultural immersion simply because I was on vacation in a foreign land.  I was a successful woman that prized my independence, and cursed everytime I was told that I had to have a male escort with me at all times when I left our home in Riyyad.  And unlike the SATC women, I grew up in a Muslim household with conservative values – and even I found the Middle East to be beyond my comfort zone.

When I watched SATC 2, I was able to connect with that culture shock.  On one hand you had opulence galore, with men as butlers serving women in their personal quarters in the hotel.  On the other hand, you had women wearing designer burkas and swimming inburkinis, and men that would look down upon a woman who was comfortable with her sexuality; especially if she is promiscuous and carries condoms in her bag.  Which brings us, of course, to the pinnacle of offensiveness:  Samantha.  Samantha’s rejection of Abu Dhabi’s conservative nature is expected; Samantha rejects the conservative nature of everyone.  She is in true form throughout the movie – a strong, confident woman that has accepted sexual freedom as her most prized possession.  She does not demand that everyone embrace such sexual frivolity; she just appreciates it fully as part of her life and wants to be left alone to enjoy it.

Knowing that Samantha’s character was controversial even in the original HBO series, it is a marvel when critics have noted that Samantha’s character should have acted differently simply because she was in a Muslim country.  That the girls should not have stared at a burka wearing woman as she ate a french fry, that Samantha should not have implied oral sex with the use of a hookah pipe, and that the girls should have shown respect to the call for prayer and therefore Samantha should not have thrown condoms at men as they headed to prayer.

Let’s get something straight here:  just as Muslims don’t like when Qur’anic verses get taken out of context, logical Muslims don’t want to take anything else out of context either.  So without giving away any parts of the movie, it should suffice to say: when you push a woman to the point of exasperation, humiliation, and then add on menopause – throwing condoms is the least of your worries.

But instead of understanding context and taking the movie for what it was – the changing lives and circumstances of four successful women that are there for each other – critics have done nothing more than cry “foul” over what is, fortunately or unfortunately, the culturein the Middle East.  American-Muslims have latched onto this unrealistic belief that all depictions of Muslims in the media must be supremely favorable, idealistic, and a mirror image of what we wish we represented.  For this reason, American-Muslim activists often lash out at anything that they believe to be unbecoming of a Muslim.

Another glaring example of our desire to call foul over everything is the criticism of Miss USA, Rima Fakih.  Racked with criticism galore, the current Miss USA has had her religious values, character, and her viability as an role model for Muslim women questioned simply because she wore a bikini as part of the pageant.  I hate to break it to the world at large but Muslim women do in fact wear bikinis – it is a personal choice, just as it is a personal choice to wear a burka, a hijab, or throw on a t-shirt in the morning.  It does not signify our religious views, piety, or ability to be a role model.  Rima Fakih’s stance as a role model should be judged through her character and her work, not based on what she is wearing.  Much like the women in SATC 2, she is a confident female that decide to break barriers on her own terms – and she showed thousands of Muslim girls out there that being a Muslim is much more than wearing a hijab, it is about embracing who you are and blazing your own path.  Now that is we should define as a role model.  And as Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte have taught us over the years: it is imperative to blaze ahead as a woman, despite what others think you should or should not do. Regardless of religion.
So as the world of Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte changes through marriage, children, careers and menopause, I look forward to the time when the outlook of American-Muslims change as well.  When we can begin to take a joke as a joke, step up to the plate when we have actually been wronged as a people, and strive to change the view of American-Muslims on our own terms.  Not by criticizing others for calling a spade a spade.

– Benish A. Shah, Editor-in-Chief, NEEM Magazine

“So…” said the South Asian Conan O’ Brien look-alike that sat across from me. He had the same lop-sided poufy hair, distinguishable side part and tall gawky gait but unfortunately lacked the comical trademark pigmentation and humorous charisma that has so endeared us to Coco.

His ‘so’, left hanging in the air, flew around with no direction like an abandoned plastic bag – back and forth – here and there – uninterrupted. Awkward Silence crossed her legs like a lady and quietly took a seat in my family living room alongside my parents, his parents and my elder sister as we went through the confused motions of your average rishta viewing. My eyes remained downcast in annoyance – which Brown Coco obviously mistook for traditional coyness – and he continued with more draining drivel about his medical pursuits to fill the space. My older sister, keen to make conversation a two-way street and knowing the predictable pride with which I wear my ‘Third Culture Kid’ badge, decided to play cupid by casually asking Brown Coco: “Do you like traveling?” – my eyes looked up to make a connection – ears anxiously waiting to hear city names and countries dance off his tongue and give way to my enthusiastic rapid fire responses:  “I lived there!” “I went there!” “I want to go there!”

“I went to Florida last year. That was pretty cool.” He responded.

“Nothing overseas?” – Finally some dialogue from my side, much to my parents’ relief.

“Nope!” He said with a girlish giggle – “Well, I went to Pakistan 10 years ago. But it was dirty. Wouldn’t want to go back again. I prefer travel in the US.” And so, my eyes went back to counting the wooden tiles on the floor, Awkward Silence returned to graciously sipping her tea and my parents tried to compensate for the lack of chemistry by noting down every common connection the families shared.

When goodbyes were exchanged, I went to the basement. My father promptly followed. He let me watch “The Daily Show” for 10 minutes, before interrupting with a cheesy grin and a breathless “I think that went really well! He’s a nice boy! The choice is yours, but we are here to facilitate! Marriage is an important milestone in life. If you aren’t interested that’s fine – but if you are, let us know!!”

“I’m not interested.”

“…Why? You’re never interested. Why would you not be interested? He’s tall like you. He’s a doctor. His mom likes you…”

“He’s not international. I mean, he doesn’t even LIKE travelling.” – Apparently, this wasn’t going to suffice as an acceptable explanation. Not only was it met with borrowing eyebrows but I could see the throbbing of his temples –pulsating faster with every passing nanosecond.

“International? Are you international??” – An obvious trap.

“Yes. I grew up in Indonesia and Sudan AND I travel almost every year.” – duh! (I fell for the obvious trap).

My father pursed his lips into a knowing “hmmm.”  Then came his sound-bites, that single handedly deflated my “international” ego… My father (accurately) pointed out that I was a product of circumstance. “My career enabled your travel. You should be grateful, not everyone has had this opportunity– where would you have been if I hadn’t been posted overseas? Would you have traveled as much then? Would you have been as aware? Unless you can answer this with any certainty, don’t judge others. Don’t be so arrogant.”

Internally, I lined up all my retorts and repeated them silently during the long pauses my father used to drive home his point. My gaze held strong towards the muted Daily Show. My father returned upstairs.

A year later, by the time I had graduated and begun my internship at the National Democratic Institute of International Affairs (NDI) – my international ego had had sufficient time to heal its wounds and reclaim a sense of entitlement as a “truly” global citizen. NDI offered a reaffirmation of this, putting me in a room with other interns who hailed from international settings and diplomatic families – we were citizens of the world and eager to reorient ourselves eastward again.

My team of NDI interns looked like a United Colors of Benetton poster.  In the small room we shared, we talked about our identity crises as global citizens caught between multiple worlds – our host countries, our countries of origin and the US. We sent each other articles written by Pico Iyer to haughtily highlight the shared cool confused elements that took center stage in defining our personalities and made us uniquely identical. During these conversations, Jason (the East Asian intern) would be anxiously listening rather than participating – one day, when the spotlight turned to him – Jason told us how he hadn’t even had a passport until he was 21. He grew up in Washington in a fairly homogenous middle class urban setting – no one in his family and barely anyone from his high school had ever traveled outside the US. After graduating from college, he got his passport on his own and went to Rwanda to work for an international justice mission for a year. He then traveled to Tamil Nadu for the summer to work for another NGO – and was heading off to do a backpacking trip through the Silk Route.

It took Jason – with his pale complexion, green eyes and thin wired glasses – to emphasize what my father had said to me following Brown CoCo Gate.  Here was a kid who had had no childhood exposure outside the US, compared to the rest of us with our international schooling, study abroad programs and globe trotting vacations. And yet, he was equally aware in knowing that that there was a world outside of his – and he was trying fervently to leave an imprint on it through his do-good pursuits.

It is effortless to have an international identity when you’ve had the benefits of going to an international school that promotes UN day as the biggest event of the semester and takes you on immersion fieldtrips to remote villages that worship death. But, what Jason demonstrated was a truly international identity – an international identity that had developed in a non-international setting – and, shamefully, it was more heartfelt than mine. Whereas I had been enabled by my father, paid-for tickets, my schooling and my circumstance – Jason had been enabled by his self, his passion, his funds and despite his circumstances.

To me, Jason is what represents a truly international identity. It was a lesson to not always assume that the love for this world and global citizenship belongs only primarily to us unanchored nomads. The world is no doubt getting smaller and smaller and people like Jason are, fortunately, becoming more commonplace. While staying at a hostel in Barcelona, there were several Jasons; Similarly, in Dubai I’ve met both varieties – third culture kids and global newbies – that are drawn to the UAE’s cosmopolitan identity – and it is the newbies who truly appreciate their surroundings and are eager to explore it with a fascination that a lot of us “international” kids take for granted. They’re changing the world by leaping blindly into it and it is a passion to be admired and encouraged.

A truly international identity is represented by this breed of global citizen. Someone who develops a consciousness from his/her living room. As the world becomes more and more integrated, yielding a domino effect which is pervasive through our economic, political, social and environmental spheres – it is important to recognize that being “truly international” is not only a right to those that have grown up straddling borders, but also a responsibility of every global citizen. As the world becomes more international – so should we. This world is at your fingertip and developing a sense of civic responsibility, not just to a nation but to the planet as well as your fellow global citizens is something which is in within reach of all of us, should we want it – even brown Coco.

– Rehana Raza-Azim

More Culture Articles Here.

Having had met my own Punjabi Luc Teyssier and marrying him this past summer, I – like Kate – followed the little pitter-patters of my own love-struck heart all the way across the Atlantic pond and built a new abode amidst the backdrop of Dubai’s SimCity paradise. I was pretty sure my own nomadic upbringing as well as my childhood visits to Dubai would insulate me during the adjustment phase– and of course, I had the adage ‘Love conquers all’ on my side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the realities of moving for love hit me as hard as Dubai’s unyielding humidity, and I realized – as most newly weds soon do – that happily ever after takes a lot of work, especially in a new city!

I know there are ample blogs and articles out there that can better familiarize you with all the methodical steps you need to take into consideration when relocating and joining the transient expat community. Similarly, many sites offer a list of hardships one should prepare for when relocating for a significant other, but I believe each experience is unique. For instance, what may be hard for me (i.e: it really sucks that I always get my American Idol news at least one day late) may not be hard for you, and vice versa.  Rather than focusing on the challenges of moving for love which, on a personal level, vary in magnitude from missing friends and family to missing my favorite noodle house in DC – I want to highlight how, in addition to giving you a lifetime of leverage over your spouse (“remember when I left all my friends and family for you?”), following your heart to a new country can actually offer the opportunity to fortify your relationship bond.

Many of our parents made the decision to uproot from South Asia to the US – most of them multi-tasking building a marriage with building a life in America. This undertaking of establishing ‘homes’ in a foreign backdrop, far from all things familiar, is something many of us under appreciate.  It wasn’t until my own move to Dubai that I developed a newfound respect for my own mother, who joined my father in the US back in 1981 – moving soon after their nuptials, not so much for love, but rather out of marital obligation. I watched her repeat this relocation as we whizzed back and forth across Africa and Asia, following my father on his assignments. Despite not having the resources I have come to rely so heavily on during my own induction to Dubai and matrimony (Lonely Planet to navigate the Souks; Internet to locate fine dining options and restaurants; Gchat to connect with friends; Skype to make international phone calls; and uTorrent to download American Idol) – my parents handled each move with optimism, grace and an eagerness to immerse my sisters and I into the language and culture of our host countries.

Their navigation of foreign surroundings not only helped them to orient themselves in new landscapes but also affirmed their faith in their budding partnership. They went from being an arranged unit brought together through parental maneuvering to a loving unit that sought out the growing familiarity of each other in unfamiliar backdrops. Moving taught my parents how to communicate better and allowed them to identify that fine balance of functioning inter-dependency without being overbearing – and soon after I saw my mother follow my father, not out of obligation – but out of love.

It is through their example, that I realize the details of getting used to Dubai will settle into place one by one with a little bit (okay, a lot) of effort and patience. But more importantly, I know that rather than focusing on all the newness and uncertainties, I have the chance to inject new levels of amazing in my marriage. If I had stayed in DC, I would have relied on my familiar surroundings and friends as an outlet and a distraction. Sure, marriage would have been a change – but not on this magnitude. Being away from the familiar, gives you a heightened sense of all the changes in your life. In Dubai, my outlet and best friend is my husband and he is there as I take on one of the biggest milestones of my life: Marriage.  I confide directly in him through the good and bad of it– because the other people I may have confided in otherwise happen to be in different time zones.  Necessity as we take on this alien terrain of Dubai and marriage has made us both more open and receptive.  We’ve learned to be more patient and honest with each other in lieu of not having another immediate support system to fall back on. He’s my co-pilot as I take in all these new experiences and I know I appreciate him more because I have come to rely on him faster and more frequently in Dubai.

During the quiet moments when we both occupy a room, there is a sense of calm that takes over me as I watch him unassumingly going about his own business.  I find his presence alone to be distinctly reassuring. If we hadn’t moved, I know that marriage would have been the biggest change I immediately faced – but in Dubai – he’s my only constant.  My move for love was the catalyst to make my love stronger – because when things are unfamiliar, you cling to what is familiar – and in this case – that’s my husband and my best friend; my very own Punjabi Luc Teyssier; and my very own happily ever after: roll the credits.

— Rehana Raza Azim

Rehana is based in Dubai and is a guest writer for NEEM Magazine.