'Her Name is Hana' – Our Collective Responsibility to Care for Our Fellow Sisters & Brothers
Community
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Oct 14, 2022
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8 MIN READ
Her Name is Hana podcast image; image source: The Digital Sisterhood
By Bayan Fares
Trigger warning: the topics discussed in this podcast episode and blog post cover suicide.
Hana is a name that carries much meaning. What comes to mind when you hear it? Is it a woman who lived a lavish life in Abu Dhabi? Is it someone who immigrated to Toronto, Canada with her children? Is it a woman who loves perfume and dressing up? Is it the bubbly social lively auntie in the community who makes you feel at home? Or, is it a wife and Hooyo (mother) who fiercely loves her family?
Maybe your mind goes directly to thoughts of a vibrant woman with a happy life. But who else could Hana be? Is she an immigrant woman who feels isolated in a new country? Is it a woman who deeply struggles with mental illness and has no idea how to find help? Or, is it a person who, after years of obstacles, succumbs to that mental illness and is led to her own suicide?
Hana is a name that means all of these things and so much more because “she was more than that,” as Amal (Hana’s daughter) so beautifully reminds us during the podcast episode titled “Her Name is Hana,” which aired on The Digital Sisterhood, a storytelling platform that aims to counter the pre-existing narrative on what it means to be a Muslim woman.
It’s both a beautiful and tragic story that shakes you and weighs you down. But Hana’s story is more than just a tragic thing for us to consume. It should reverberate through our communities as it teaches us lessons on how to better care for one another.
As someone whose focus is building female-centric community spaces through both my social work background and my previous Social Media and Community Manager role at Haute Hijab, I’ve picked up some of these lessons and ways in which we can do that. Here are just a few of them:
1. You are not alone – you do not have to go through hardship in isolation.
"Her Name is Hana" podcast episode from The Digital Sisterhood
While listening to this episode, I couldn't help but notice the level of isolation and loneliness touched on throughout this story. Isolation is so common amongst us. It often creeps up when we least expect it, especially when going through grief or difficult and heavy emotions. It can lead us into a state of existential exhaustion where everything seems pointless, where it feels like no one understands, or where you're praying and trying to connect with Allah (S) but still feel spiritually distant.
It's so easy to fall into the trap of the "no one cares" cycle and it can become very isolating. It’s something we will all come across at least once in our lifetimes, if we haven’t already.
And so, it’s important to remember that we have power over what thoughts we feed. When dark thoughts come up is precisely when we need to recognize them and call them out, not repress them and pretend they don’t exist. If we let these thoughts fester, they can lead us down a road that may be difficult to come back from.
If you’re feeling lonely, isolated, or are carrying a burden alone right now, this message is for you. You are not alone, no matter how deeply your mind has sunk itself into that belief. There are people who care about you and love you, even though sometimes when you reach out for help, it’s met with silence or tone-deaf responses. Those people are still there. They still care and they still love you.
The road of hardship is not an easy one. It’s designed to be lonely as no one can carry that burden for you. But you must try to not isolate yourself. Connection is vital, for even the smallest connection may help give you some light throughout this difficult time. There is a light there. Allah (S) will send it in the most unexpected ways. So, keep your eyes open for His mercy in the corners of this world that have broken you. He will make a way out for you. He has not forsaken you.
This message is clearly stated for us in Surah Al-Duha, as Cadar Mohamud (host of The Digital Sisterhood) and Amal (Hana’s daughter) so kindly remind us. If you have nothing else to hold onto in the midst of isolation, hold onto the light that comes from The Light, from Al-Nur, from Allah (S):
1 By the morning brightness 2 and by the night when it grows still, 3 your Lord has not forsaken you [Prophet], nor does He hate you, 4 and the future will be better for you than the past; 5 your Lord is sure to give you [so much] that you will be well pleased. 6 Did He not find you an orphan and shelter you, 7 find you lost and guide you, 8 find you in need and satisfy your need? 9 So do not be harsh with the orphan 10 and do not chide the one who asks for help; 11 and talk about the blessings of your Lord.
2. Our communities need to be revived – with services and then some.
I use the word “revival” here, because it truly is that. It sounds like a broken record to say that our communities lack appropriate services for mental health, lack of training for our Imams and leaders, and even an understanding or emphasis on the importance of such services. We know it’s true and have such a long way to go to uplift and properly support people turning to our masajid for help.
The Digital Sisterhood podcast
Yet, I can’t help but reflect on what the word “community” means. A community is not simply a hub for resources and professional services. A community is supposed to be a place of comfort and of support, a place people turn to to feel a sense of belonging, of oneness, of togetherness. A place where we are so in tune with each other that when a person pulls away, gets sick, loses a loved one, or goes through difficulty, it’s something we notice and tend to with compassion and room for healing.
All of this does not replace professional services that our communities desperately need. We must be able to refer people to trusted facilities and professionals who can help them in culturally-informed ways. There are organizations doing this work, including Maristan, an organization led by Dr. Rania Awad that is currently working to train 500 religious leaders in suicide response along with other on-the-ground services.
But what I’m reflecting on here is the revival of the care we can have for one another within our communities: a revival of connection, emotional intelligence, and of the skills and knowledge necessary to support our community members, friends and family who are struggling. We have to be able to show up in ways that help and not hurt. We should be able to become a safe space for others to turn to rather than ignorantly saying something that adds weight onto their already weighed down shoulders.
We must learn to become a community that is understanding and gives grace to others. A community that not only supports each other with food, shelter, phone calls and hospital visits, but also with words, with emotions and with connection. This is how we truly revive our community spaces.
3. Disrupt the narrative – learn how to be comfortable with your emotions.
Image source: Pixabay
The thing that got to me the most about the “Her Name is Hana” episode is how Hana did reach out for help. She didn't isolate herself in the beginning. She reached out to friends and Imams. And yet, their inability to support her in the way she needed no doubt had some sort of impact in how her story ended, and Allah (S) knows best.
There are so many layers here that I won’t be able to go through, including the lack of knowledge around mental illness and the generational stigma around seeking help for women in her age. But what bothers me the most is her reaching out for help and not receiving it in the way she needed. Instead, it was met with a lot of comments like “Allah (S) loves you, this is a test Allah (S) has for you” or judgements thinking she was crazy.
I want to scale it down a bit and talk about times when any of us mustered up the courage to ask for help when we were at our darkest and were met with dead ends, assumptions or silence. How did that make you feel? Did it discourage you from asking for help again? Did you even know where to turn to next if that was your last lifeline?
We can’t control the help we don’t receive from others; not everyone we ask is able to fulfill our needs. Sometimes those we turn to for help are incapable of effectively being there for us because of their own situations. At the end of the day, all help comes from Allah (S). Even the friend who picks up the phone at a time you need them most was allowed to answer that phone call by Allah’s (S) will and mercy upon you. We always turn to The Most Merciful for help, and His help is always close by.
Knowing this, it’s important for us to reflect on how it feels to ask for help and walk away empty handed. What are our reactions when others turn to us for help? Whether we are able to help them or not is not the question. It’s our ability to be of support to them on their journey to seeking the help they need until their needs are met.
The question is: Do we have the skills necessary to be that kind of support for others? Are we self-aware? Are we comfortable in silence? Do we give ourselves grace and space to feel through our emotions? Are we comfortable holding heavy emotions for others while they go through difficulties? As we ask ourselves these questions, how are we answering them?
As a community, we often are uncomfortable with our own emotions so much so that when someone reaches out to us, we don't know how to comfort their heavy emotions because we're uncomfortable with our own. Instead we hit them with the typical everything happens for a reason or this is a test from Allah (S) soundbites.
People don't need to be lectured. They want and need support – communal support. We must remember that our deen remains one of community, one of oneness and of emotional connection. If there’s one thing out of many that we should understand and keep in our hearts from the “Her Name is Hana” episode of The Digital Sisterhood podcast, it’s that when one person is hurt, the body of our ummah should feel it. And if we don’t, then we must examine why we are so cut off from our own emotions that we cannot feel the pain of our sisters and brothers in need.
Emotions are the root of what makes us human, and being comfortable with our own emotions first is what will help us learn how to empathize and be a safe place for others. We may not be able to experience or take on our friends', families’, or communities' pain, but by learning to be comfortable with our emotions, we can learn how to be comfortable holding the emotions of others and showing up when it matters most.
That way, perhaps we can be of better support to, or even prevent, another Hana’s story happening within our community.
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