Rumble, young man, rumble.

Happy International Women’s Day From Shade 

March is Women’s History Month and today marks an international celebration of women. One year ago, we were super excited to be featured on Dazed Digital’s 2016 list of inspiring women which inspired us to share our list with you. Read more about these incredible icons and their work that continues to motivate us to create and empower each other.

SHADE 2017

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Nike to release “Pro Hijab” for Muslim women in spring 2018

On the heels of its campaign ad featuring Muslim athletes, Nike is taking a stand against discrimination. 

The athletic wear company announced the release of the “pro hijab,” Al Arabiya English reported on Monday.

“The Nike Pro Hijab may have been more than a year in the making, but its impetus can be traced much further back, to an ongoing cultural shift that has seen more women than ever embracing sport,” a statement from Nike said, according to Al Arabiya English.

The “pro hijab” is set to be released in spring 2018. Its creation follows years of controversy regarding Muslim women keeping their hair covered during athletic competitions. Read more (3/7/17 11:10 AM)

Their mission is “to help enable more Muslim girls & women to be physically active and participate in sports, while upholding their religious and cultural beliefs.”

Let’s support ethical Muslim companies before we reward opportunistic companies that have finally caught on to the money they can make from considering muslim women valuable consumer markets. Shop Here. 

SHEREEN MASOUD is a Philadelphia-based Egyptian artist from the Bay Area. Her work combines traditional Arabic calligraphy with portraiture and politics. Masoud’s work is powerful, often highlighting the links between Arab and Black struggles. I interviewed Shereen to get more insight into who she is as an artist and the impetus behind her work. 

BIGMOUTH: Talk a little bit about your origins as an artist. How did you learn calligraphy and when did you start using it in your work?

SHEREEN MASOUD: I’ve always been an artistic person, but I didn’t actually start practicing calligraphy until grad school a few years back—I was looking for an outlet for my master’s student woes. One of my friends had posted a photo with the hashtag #calligratherapy and I decided to give it a try. So I went to the nearest art supply store (s/o to Michael’s coupons) to find pens and googled “Arabic calligraphy” and now here I am.

BM: It seems that your work is impacted by diaspora—you combine traditional elements of Islamic art with American pop culture icons, historical figures, and politics. Can you talk about what your position in diaspora has meant for you and your work?

SM: I don’t think I’m unique in saying that as a mixed kid, identity has always been a complex and interesting subject for me. Growing up Muslim in the Bay Area with an Egyptian dad and white Jewish mom who converted to Islam has definitely given me a lot to think about in terms of my positionality, socially and politically.  Art has given me an outlet to engage with both the Arabic language and my thoughts on contemporary issues in a deep way. My connection to the motherland continues to shape who and what I choose to focus on.

BM: You’ve drawn portraits of icons like Lauryn Hill, Malcolm X, and Um Kalthoum. How do you pick your subjects and why?

SM: Cultivating revolutionary love, particularly self-love, has been a journey for me and I have sought to be intentional about centering it in my life and my art. The folks you mentioned are, for me, embodiments of this kind of love—love for self, love for justice, and love for community. In different ways, they inspire me and provide political and artistic frameworks that guide my personal struggle and remind me that it is also connected to something much bigger than myself.

For a while I was obsessed with drawing Garfield (the cat, not the president); I think he is the ultimate embodiment of self-love.

BM: A lot of your work also references M4BL and the history of the Black liberation struggle in the United States. Why is the M4BL important to you as an Arab and Muslim living in the U.S.? What do you think the roles and responsibilities are of Arabs who support M4BL?

SM: As an Arab and Muslim living in the U.S. who understands the context within which I’m living, it is impossible for me to be unconcerned with the Movement for Black Lives.  The extreme violence against our Black brothers and sisters at the hands of the state requires us to take action. Furthermore, white supremacy and capitalist exploitation in this country are rooted in the genocide and continued oppression of Indigenous and Black people—the same white supremacy and capitalist exploitation that allows for state violence against Muslims and Arabs here and abroad.  Our struggles are forever linked. We can’t be free until the most oppressed and marginalized are free.

I think the most important responsibility of Arabs and Muslims who support M4BL is to fight the very real anti-blackness in our own communities—whether it comes from our families, friends, or co-workers.  The work may be uncomfortable, but it’s necessary. Also, we need to be engaged in multi-racial/multi-faith liberatory movements. Supporting M4BL is not charity work—it is out of survival that we must build solidarity and learn to depend on one another instead of the state.

BM: Who are some of your biggest artistic influences right now?

There are so many talented artists/musicians/writers that I admire and who influence my work. Just a few are: Shadia Mansour, The Narcicyst aka Narcy, Tasnim Baghdadi, El Seed, Adele Supreme, Warsan Shire, Mick Jenkins, Erykah Badu, Melanie Cervantes, Tony Gum, Nayyirah Waheed, Yuna, Lauryn Hill, Sundus Abdul Hadi, Frida Kahlo, the list goes on…

Documenting citizens and allies of the Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fires of the Great Sioux Nation) who Oppose the DAPL (Dakota Access Pipeline) - Great Sioux Nation: photo series by Josue Rivas, a native american photographer and activist based in Los Angeles. 

He is currently seeking funding for this project, while Native Americans and protesters await a ruling on an injunction to stop work on the $3.7bn pipeline that threatens their water and protected land. 

Artist Statement: Two weeks ago, I was deeply moved by an urgent plea for support from friends and relatives who are standing in solidarity with the people of the Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota.  This tribe has been fighting for months to protect their clean water from an oil pipeline that is being constructed on their land. Hundreds of tribal members and allies from around the country have gathered in peaceful prayer at their multiple camps near Canonball, North Dakota to stop the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline. This pipeline will cross through four states and carry crude oil across critical habitats, waterways, and sacred sites.

Despite numerous actions, petitions and an upcoming court hearing, the mainstream media is not currently covering this story in a way that represents the native perspective. As a native photojournalist, I feel it is important to let our people tell their own stories. That’s why I’m driving 1,545 miles to connect with the protectors of this land and report on what is happening on the ground.

The goal of my journey is to create photo essays and videos that will reflect the reality of this struggle. These will be pitched to national and international publications to help create awareness of this unfolding story.

read more details on DAPL here.

At some point you gotta decide for yourself who you gon’ be. Don’t let nobody make that decision for you.

It started when I was in kindergarten, and I was so proud I did not have to go to Bingo class, unlike my friends, because I could speak good English -

although I had no idea what a yellow dog that could spell had anything to do with Chinese. 

(I figure out now that it was probably called Bilingual class)

I am lucky. I speak the fluent, accentless English of newscasters, the dialect spoken by the children of immigrants, that we learned not from our parents but rather from watching Sesame Street and other things on tv.

Last year, a white facebook friend of mine posted, “In order to celebrate Chinese New Year, me talk rike chinese man arr day." 

And then told me that she was "sorry I was offended” and “she didn’t mean anything by it” when I (nicely, sweetly) told her that that shit was not okay. She said that she saw it the same as doing an accent, like Irish. Or British. Or Italian. (for bonus points, she even said that she has lots of Asian co-workers and friends, and LOVES Asian people, and so is not a racist.)

And when one of my white friends gets drunk, he thinks his “Asian accent” is hilarious.

And I was told by a coworker about the time my Asian coworker mispronounced “Barroway” as “Bwawwoway” and how hilarious it was.

Here’s the thing - can you guess how many Asian people I know who actually say

me rikey

me from _____

me so solly

(or, if you like, the fetishized versions: me so horny, me love you long time)

if you said ZERO, then ding ding ding! Congratulations, you have working brain cells.

No, my misguided fb friend, the “Asian accent” is not an actual imitation of an accent, comparable to your bad British/Irish/Italian - but rather a mockery of Asian people and their supposed inability to speak English. It is the perpetuation of the image of Asian people as perpetual foreigners in America.

Like that time when my family was at an Italian restaurant, and we were speaking to my father in Cantonese, and a drunken white lady said very loudly, “GOD when you come to this country at least learn the language!”

Or when my father was pulled over for speeding, and although he said “what’s the problem, officer?” the first thing the state trooper said was, “Do you speak English?”

Your fake “Asian accents” are not harmless and silly, because at the root of the joke, it says - you, you are stupid. You cannot speak English. You are Other. You do not belong.

my parents have been in this country for 30 years. They have been American citizens for 30 years.

And they are very self-conscious of their imperfect English, afraid that it makes them look ignorant, knowing that it marks them as immigrants. That, after 30 years, you can still be told (in not so many words) that you do not belong.

The Cultural Revolution started in China when my father was 13. He was pulled out of school and, later, sent to work in the fields. (He escaped to Hong Kong when he was 18, but that is another story for another time.)

When my father came to this country, he had a middle school education and did not speak a lick of English. He worked as a busboy at a Chinese restaurant, the evening shift that ran until 3 or 4 in the morning, and went to school during the day.

It took my father ten years to earn his bachelor’s degree. He is now an engineer.

Is this not your “American Dream?”

When my mother came to this country, she spoke very little English. She got a job as an entry level clerk. Over the years she earned one promotion after another. She is now management at a large federal agency, and manages funds for the whole state.

Is this not your “American Dream?”

And my father didn’t understand why his coworkers said, “flied lice, flied lice!” to him over and over and laughed.

And my father is still afraid to speak in a professional setting, even when he has ideas. 

And my mother still checks and double checks her professional e-mails with me, for fear of mockery from the same people she manages.

And people don’t understand why I can’t take a harmless joke. Why I don’t think that shit is funny.

No, I don’t “rikey." 

No, I won’t "love you long time.”

And no, I’m not sorry.