Hope Podcast: Featuring Mishka Banuri, MTS Candidate

HIATT O'CONNOR: Are you good? 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah. 

HIATT O'CONNOR: OK, well, welcome Mishka to the Hope Podcast. It's so lovely to have you here. 

MISHKA BANURI: Thanks for having me. 

JORDAN AHMED: I know you and I have many people have tried to connect us from our past lives. So I figured it only felt right to start my time at the podcast with you. So thank you for being here. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, thanks for having me. 

JORDAN AHMED: I would love to, as we ground ourselves for the interview, just to know where is home for you. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, that's a really good question because I've been thinking about how to answer that every time someone asks me, where are you from. [LAUGHTER] Right now I consider home to be Utah, that I feel like is a place that shaped a lot of who I am today. 

But I was born in Houston and moved to the suburbs of Chicago, which I think was also a pretty formative for the way that I grew up as a Muslim. And then I moved to Utah, also a place that doesn't have-- I mean, the religious majority is not Muslims. But what really draws me to Utah is the natural world, is the mountains. Every time I leave Utah it just feels like you're so open and bare. Because when you're there, the mountains just hug you because you're in a vale. And I loved it because you have so much such easy access to the outdoors. 

And I think Utah is a really special place and people really underestimate it. So I love Utah and that's where I would consider home. My parents are from Pakistan. And so that's a place that I don't necessarily consider home, but I bring into the space because that also has informed what I'm interested in and why. And I think it's important to bring in where I come from. 

JORDAN AHMED: Yeah, definitely. I feel like I grew up saying, with my family, we always say back home. And we're referring to Pakistan, Bangladesh, South Asia. But for me, I've never even been there. But I still would say, back home. So it is interesting how that word gets used for places that we might not necessarily have as direct a connection to at this point, but still is a part of what builds home for us, whether or not we've been there or spent a lot of time there. Are there places in Utah that natural places that you really particularly love? 

MISHKA BANURI: Yes, my favorite tree of all time is an Aspen tree. Because when you look at an Aspen forest, every single tree is one organism, because they're connected by one root system. And I just metaphorically love Aspens, can relate to them a lot. I took my parents to Pandas, which in terms of mass, the largest or one of the largest organisms in the world, which is in Utah. And I took my parents there and it was a very special experience. So I would say that was my favorite place. 

JORDAN AHMED: Wow, well, I'm excited to hear more about it. We've started to allude to this a little bit when you were talking a little bit about family. You were mentioning being Muslim. Could you give us a little spiritual autobiography? 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, so I'm Muslim. I was born Muslim. And I grew up actually like pre-k, kindergarten, I went to an Islamic school in Naperville, Chicago, Illinois. And that was really interesting because soon after we were in it, my dad especially realized he did not agree with the kind of Islam that they were teaching us. 

You're not allowed to celebrate Halloween. And my mom would come and pick us up and be like, we're going trick or treating. And everyone would be like, what? And they wouldn't let us wear silly bandz, because silly bandz were like a thing at that time. It was very strict. 

And at one point at the time, we thought it was normal, but they would hit us all the time. And my parents didn't realize it until he saw my younger brother with one of the teachers, and she moved her hand and he flinched and my dad saw it. And he was like, oh no, we are taking these kids out. 

My mom was really worried about that because she really wanted us to have a good, strong Islamic foundation in our lives. And so my dad was like, I'll give it to them regardless. And so I grew up with him telling all the Islamic stories, Quranic stories, at the breakfast table, and that was my favorite thing ever. We would beg him to tell us story after story in the morning. And so that's why I really love like the Quranic stories. I relate to them the most. 

And over time, I grew up obviously post 9/11 America, in Utah. And in a lot of ways had to be very defensive of Islam to a lot of people. And that was interesting. Because even though I was in defense of Islam, I feel like my personal connection was separating quite a bit. Because all these questions that other people were asking me, I also had those same questions, but I didn't show it to other people. 

And over time, I began to find my own community. Because no matter what, I always felt connected to God in one way or another. Whether or not, it was the God that these imams were telling me about, but I felt very connected. And so over time, I found a really lovely community of people now that I feel like I'm a part of who allow for questioning, who allow for fluidity, and how we understand Islam. 

And yeah, I would say that's where I'm at right now—is still discovering this community and still discovering what my Islam is. My grandmother was also a very important person in my life. And she was very religious. And she had a very personal connection to Islam. After she died, we were looking through her personal Quran, and she had notes all over it, post-it notes everywhere. She was very connected. 

JORDAN AHMED: Every time you talk, I feel like I'm reminded about why we were supposed to be friends. Because everything you just said, there's so much of what you said that I was just like, wanting to say, yes, yes, same. Especially growing up Muslim in the Midwest, feeling this tenuousness around questions I had about the faith, but feeling really defensive of it in response to the rampant Islamophobia. 

And then similar to you, I took solace in the stories from the Quran. My grandmother, again, grandmothers in Islam, I feel are such a huge part of our religious development. 

MISHKA BANURI: Even now as I am in Divinity School and I'm learning more about the Quran, I feel like there's a lot of things that I never really confronted that we are in our class right now, Professor Moballegh actually reading Hadithi, actually reading the Quran. 

I remember even during Ramadan, I would try and I would close the Quran. I couldn't do it. And so I feel like that's really what I'm being tested here, to really deepen my knowledge. 

JORDAN AHMED: Well, speaking of here, I'm curious. What brought you to HDS, or how did you land here? 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, I did not. If you told me a year ago, [LAUGHTER] I would be here, I wouldn't believe you. I had big plans of going into media studies for grad school and staying in this gender studies media world. I'm really interested in storytelling, but my mom had actually suggested Divinity School. And I was like, you know what? 

There were all sorts of suggestions coming my way from my parents, but this was one that landed. And it was because I was going through all my assignments as I was preparing my grad school applications. And almost all of them had to do with Muslims, and representations of Muslims. And that really solidified that the community that I want to be in service for is the Muslim community. 

And yeah, I felt like there was just something that pushed me towards coming here. And I'm glad that I did. And ever since I've been here, I've been thinking about how it's just come very full circle in a lot of ways. My dad's side of the family, they came to South Asia long, long time ago to preach Islam. They were all religious scholars. And so it feels very full circle that no one in my immediate family is—none of them are religious scholars anymore. But I feel like yeah, I've come back to that now with me. 

Not that they would necessarily like what I'm doing, something that I have thought about. Yeah, and I just remember small moments. Memories have been coming up where I'm like, OK, yeah, this is where I'm supposed to be. 

My mom and I when I was younger, we went there was some tarot event happening. And she was like, shh, don't tell anyone. We're going to go. And the cards that were pulled for me, I don't remember exactly what the cards were, but the way that the person interpreted them was that your daughter is there—going to be there to protect women. She's a protector of women. And that feels very grounded and a reason for why I'm here—is to give way for Muslim women, people of marginalized genders in Islam, to really connect and own it. 

JORDAN AHMED: Yeah, I mean, it's funny, I'm thinking about how as Daisy people, we sometimes have family members who are like, be a doctor, be a lawyer. And you're like, yeah, my mom suggested Divinity School. 

[LAUGHTER] 

MISHKA BANURI: We all—this is after that. I thought I was going to be a doctor. I thought I was going to be a lawyer. And they were like, oh God, what else is there? 

JORDAN AHMED: And then they're like, oh, what else is there? God. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, exactly. Let's go back there. 

JORDAN AHMED: You were mentioning feeling called to work with the Muslim community and specifically Muslim women and Muslim people who are of marginalized genders. I know personally about your work at Heart, and I'm curious if you'd like to share a little bit about that. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, so Heart is a nonprofit that does reproductive justice work and works to end gender-based violence, specifically for marginalized Muslims. And I started with them. I mean, I initially found out about them through a project that I was doing in undergrad about sex ed and shame among young Muslims. And it was a storytelling project. 

And I interviewed a member of Heart who's actually a really good friend of mine now, Karen, who really just talked about what Muslim values are versus, for example, the influences of Victorian values onto Muslim values—that are even the Islam that we see today has changed and shifted. And this idea of purity and sex just for procreation and all of that stuff is not really Islamic. That is an influence from other places. 

And that was really, really informative for me. And honestly, really big inspiration for why I'm here in the first place is because I am academically interested in how Islam has been impacted. And people's understandings of Islam has been impacted by right wing Christianity. 

And right now with them I'm actually working on a comic book that it's hopefully going to be a series that really builds this world of reproductive justice for Muslims, for all kinds of Muslims. And what does it look like to engage with each other through the lens of healthy relationships. 

What does it look like to respond with Rahma, with compassion, when there's a disclosure of violence? How do we really actually live this out? I think we talk about these values in abstract, but the hope is that the comic book will show people actually how to do it and how to live together and build together. 

JORDAN AHMED: Wow, we're very, very lucky to have you at HDS. And I feel very lucky that we've finally been introduced to each other after so many friends telling us that we should be friends. 

MISHKA BANURI: Me too. 

JORDAN AHMED: You just mentioned actually, in the last sentence you said, you said the word hope. And I'm curious if you'd like to give a definition of hope or let us know what hope means to you right now. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, I was thinking about that. And something that I forgot to mention is also that I started off as an organizer pretty young-- starting in high school. But even before that, I saw my mom and my grandmother, always being in service to the community, even in their jobs and also off the clock. They were always doing service. And so that shaped a lot of my activities growing up. And it somehow meshed with my understanding of Islam too, that my activism was always coming from Islam at the root. 

And so I got really involved with the Climate Justice Movement. So I say this all to say is that hope can be a really hard thing, particularly as a young organizer in the climate justice space, when a lot of people look at young people as a source of hope. And when you are supposed to embody hope, be a walking, talking symbol of hope for people, that can get really exhausting. 

And so sometimes I'm really averse to the word hope, because I think that it's not cultivated and it was expected of us. Especially when we were going, I had stuff going on in my family at home with no resources. And so I just felt drained. How am I supposed to be a source of hope when I'm not getting any support and tools to do that and be that? 

So hope I think is really hard for me. And I don't think I really knew what it meant until Mariame Kaba said, hope is a discipline. And even then that was a little vague, but I think I was starting to understand what that is. And it's not just like an innate feeling that you have, but it has to be cultivated over time and with other people. Yeah, so that's my response to what hope is. 

JORDAN AHMED: Yeah, so can you say a little bit more about this idea of hope as a discipline? You're quoting Mariame Kaba. But I'm curious, how does that land for you now? Is it the connection of hope to action? Is that where you land? 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, I think it's twofold for me. And this is also—hope is very, very tightly bound for me with feeling connected to divine, a divine source. And so I think there's two ways to do that, which is turning to other people and being in community with others, and then also turning inwards. 

And all of it is connected to just finding life. I think life is very hopeful that's why I go outside and I connect with nature. And even inward, I think about everything in my body that's just programmed to keep me alive. I think that's very hopeful. And life is all around us. And yeah, if that answers your question. 

JORDAN AHMED: Yeah, that absolutely answers my question. That more than answers my question. I really appreciate you elaborating on that. I think that thinking about hope and also just life or divine energy suffusing things feels like a way to divorce the word hope from a naive optimism or idealism. And instead there's something else going on. 

You even talked about—earlier talked about Rahman, harm being like compassion. And the root of that word being from the womb. And I think that there's something there that I really appreciate you bringing up. I'm curious as we talk about hope, we talk about what has brought you to HDS. Are there any practices or insights from your tradition that ground you in your understanding of hope? 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, I've been really turning to practices that I saw my family do growing up, even if they didn't even realize it. So every morning-- I'm a big believer in the evil eye. And so I always believe in trying to protect yourself and protect people around you. And so in the mornings as I'm getting ready, I listen to the Rukya, which is a collection of doors that are supposed to ward off the evil eye. And I also listen to charcoal, the Oracle, and then I do proceed. 

And that was something that my mom did quite often was she would play things out loud. And it would—and she would put on incense. And it would cleanse the space. And I added the fact that I do it when I'm getting ready, because I think that beauty is so important in Islam and finding beauty and cultivating it. And so I listen to this is as I get ready, because I think beautifying yourself is a very spiritual thing. No matter what that means to you outside of any beauty standards, but taking the time to feel good about yourself. I think is a very divine thing to do. 

And I also really love putting on mehndi or henna. There's a really great person, her name is Medina Trevathan. I think it's how you say her name. And she's a henna artist and also has a Sufi background. And talks about how the henna stain, instead of thinking of it fading, thinking of it as absorbing into your body. And so whatever messaging and intention you have as you're putting it on, it's going into your body. 

And also thinking of plants and the miracle that they exist and the properties that they have as a source of the divine as well. And so yeah, I actually I put on mainly this morning with one of God's names when I do it. 

JORDAN AHMED: Which name? 

MISHKA BANURI: Al-Fatiha, which means the opener. I feel like I need a little bit of opening up in my life and opening up of opportunities. I'm just trying to invite that in my actions. And so mehndi is a very beautiful ritual for me. 

JORDAN AHMED: I've never thought about the idea that mehndi gets absorbed rather than fading. Thinking about it absorbing. I've actually never done it somehow. And now I'm like, so we're going to have to have a friend date where we do mehndi and set some intentions and allow those intentions to be absorbed, because that actually sounds like something I could really use right now. 

I also love hearing when someone else grounds themselves in one of the 99 names of Allah. That's a huge part of what brought me closer to Islam is finding these accessible touchpoints of the divine. For me it was Al-Nur, which is light—which is, of course, my favorite name of Allah. And I feel like I really try to embody that and how I move through the world. But then I actually wrote my entrance essay to HDS about a As-Subar. So thinking about patients and how long something can take. The slowness that life can unfold through. 

MISHKA BANURI: I wrote my essay on—which is something that I wanted to touch on. But this fear that comes with knowledge and also that knowledge comes with an undoing. And I wrote about the prophet's experience of receiving the first revelation and how he was so shaken. He was so scared. And he ran to his wife Khadijah, for comfort. And yet it was so scary to him. And yet he continued. And he had that bravery. 

And I think I want to imbibe that in my time at HDS because—and it's particularly in the Muslim community, because sometimes I think we've forgotten that tradition of learning and unlearning and the fear that comes from it. 

JORDAN AHMED: Absolutely. 

MISHKA BANURI: And so that was my intention coming in here. And I'm experiencing it. I'm scared all the time. I'm scared all the time while I'm here. And so that's why I put this word is just to remind myself to remain open to the possibilities and to the learning that I will experience here. Because also, coming from a gender studies background, I had to go through an undoing there too. And I really like that. So I came to Divinity School. 

JORDAN AHMED: In my apocalyptic grief class with Matt Potts, we have been talking about this idea of undoing and how we reconstitute ourselves through storytelling and relationship. And I feel like so much of what you're sharing and so much of the work that I know you do, I feel really centers those two values and those two practices of storytelling and building relationships with people. 

And I really personally feel like that is where—that is the nexus of hope for me right now. And that is where this word that can be reduced to a feeling gets actualized and practice. And storytelling itself is an act of relationship. It's saying, I believe in you enough to tell you something about myself. Do you believe in me enough to listen? And so much is built back up there. All the ways that we're undone, I feel like that's a way of doing together. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, I love that. And that's exactly what I would like to do here. I think there's a way that you build your identity through telling stories about yourself and about and also as a community. And so I want to change that story, is what I would like to do here. 

JORDAN AHMED: I'm excited to change that story with you. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, me too. 

JORDAN AHMED: Wow, As-Subar. 

[LAUGHTER] 

As we wrap up our time together, I'm curious if you have any insight that you'd like to leave us with. I see a book in front of you. And it happens to be a book, for those listening, it's a book that I also really love and immediately was excited when Mishka brought it out. So I'm really excited to hear what you have to share with us from this book, if you want to share what the book is. 

MISHKA BANURI: Yeah, so the book is called Undrowned—Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals by Alexis Pauline Gumbs. And I was actually assigned one chapter of this and then the whole book, but I still come back to the one chapter that I was assigned. I'm just going to read a couple quotes from it. 

JORDAN AHMED: Please. 

MISHKA BANURI: It's chapter 4 and it's called practice. And the chapter is about the possibility of a dorsal fin in dolphins. And she says, "How did dolphins get dorsal fins anyway? Unlike fish, they don't have bones that support a dorsal fin. The mammals they evolved through and from before returning to the ocean didn't have dorsal fins. They aren't a vestige of limbs like tail flukes and side fins may be. The prevailing explanation is that dolphins evolved the dense tissue that became dorsal fins because they needed in order to live in the wild movement of the ocean. In other words, dolphins have evolved dorsal fins from practice across generations by accepting that the ocean would always move and become accordingly, an embodied emphasis towards balance." 

And she ends with, "How did you do it? It's almost like you made something out of nothing. Body, where there was absence, but you didn't. You made life out of every day. You made it out of infinite love." And that is what hope is to me is this practice, and pulling from generations or pulling from the world around you, but practice. 

JORDAN AHMED: Thank you so much Mishka. It has been an absolute pleasure to bring you here and to talk about hope in such a deep, practiced way. And I'm so grateful that this is just the beginning of our friendship. So thank you so much. 

MISHKA BANURI: Thank you. It's a lovely way to start my day. So grounded. 

JORDAN AHMED: Yes, I'm so glad. 

[LAUGHTER]