Al-Qalam 
Black or Muslim women who enter academic corridors face many hurdles compared to their male counterparts, writes Quraisha Dawood.
Dr Laila Paruk is once again eating a vegetarian meal. The university has made a mistake with her halaal lunch. She is graceful about it. ‘Don’t worry, this is fine,’ she says, gritting her teeth. This is the least she has to deal with, she explains to me, as we talk about my study on Muslim women academics across South Africa.
From being asked about her hijab to being questioned about her priorities to being denied a promotion, it seems her faith and her career field are always at an impasse. Her family tells her to have ‘sabr’ (patience) and focus on being a good wife and mother, while her manager pushes her to publish or perish. This is the predicament of many women, particularly Muslim women, who work as academics in our country’s tertiary institutions.
While the number of female academics has increased, research has shown that they are still largely concentrated in junior positions, carrying heavy workloads rather than being afforded research opportunities. It is little wonder that men still produce more research and climb the academic ladder, leading to almost impenetrable old boys’ networks that steer tertiary institutions. Even more so, when women of colour, particularly black or Muslim women, enter academic corridors, they face many hurdles.
Faith is an integral part of South African women’s identity, and the Indian culture and heritage have strong links. Simultaneously, Muslim women have been proven to raise their political voices, rise to the top of their careers, and influence the economy. Comprising 1.6% of the South African population, Muslims have contributed to 10% of the country’s GDP – a large portion of this coming from businesses owned by Muslim women. This can also be attributed to the rise of the halaal online economy, which has made Islamic fashion, travel, banking, and food widely popular.
University
Considering Muslim women’s voices, which influenced the abolition of apartheid, such as current campaigners of justice for the liberation of Palestine, Muslim women work hard to dispel the stereotype that they are oppressed merely because of the hijab. Nevertheless, mechanisms of tertiary institutions are geared towards excluding Muslim woman from research, expressing their identities and networking with their peers. Some of these boundaries of exclusivity are overt, while others are less so. For example, those who wear the full niqab are stopped at university entrances or have to work twice as hard to be loud or funny in order to be accepted by their peers. In many cases, Muslim women, who are doubly ‘othered’ because of their dress and their race, are excluded from happy hours or conferences with work colleagues because they don’t drink or travel without a mahram. Further to this, the current study has found that they are given large teaching loads with no room for research opportunities or promotion.
This was especially difficult during COVID-19 when women academics endured the shift to online teaching and supervising while being the primary caregivers of the home who also supervised their children’s online schooling. For Dr Firdaus Khan, this meant preparing her lectures at 2 am, when her children were asleep, and internet speeds were high, in order to complete her daily tasks. For many, the home environment, where one had to cook, care and clean for others, was not conducive to research.
In most cases, their husbands’ work was given priority, and they were left to work in the study or another room. The question of space within tertiary institutions also affects prayer areas for Muslims. With at least two of the five daily prayers falling within the workday, Muslim academics had to perform ablution in the public bathrooms and find a corner of the library to pray in if they did not have their own offices. In order not to seem difficult, many suppress their feelings around halaal food not being catered for, settling to eat a vegetarian meal. Many have also been questioned about whether they have been forced to wear the hijab or why they don’t drink alcohol, being asked how they could possibly have fun being sober.
Within our community, the woman’s place in the home is revered in Islam, thus her commitment to providing care and mothering to her family members and children is very important. Yet, those in positions of power within tertiary institutions view this as a hindrance. In Dr Laila’s case, her commitment to her work was questioned because she did not attend a research workshop and chose to attend her son’s first day of school. Similarly, Muslim female academics felt that their families did not really care what a PhD was; it was more important that they cook and bake well.
In fact, some were warned not to ‘become too educated’ and be unmarriageable. It seems female Muslim academics in this country and within our communities find themselves negotiating between culture and career. It is high time we celebrated avenues of success, which don’t always lead towards patriarchy and dominant Western ideology.
*Dr Quraisha Dawood is the Deputy Dean of Research at the IIE Varsity College.
