The belief in queerness

The Queer Muslim Project’s On the Brink of Belief amplifies South Asian queer voices, exploring faith, identity, and belonging, writes Saurabh Sharma.

The Queer Muslim Project (TQMP) brought together 24 emerging queer and trans writers from Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Nepal, Pakistan, and India for the 2023-24 edition of the Queer Writers’ Room. This cohort was mentored by Christopher Merrill, Kazim Ali, Darius Stewart, and Maggie Millner, among others, “who led generative workshops and created a space for growth, experimentation, and courage.” The result was a groundbreaking, vibrant volume of literary works titled On the Brink of Belief: Queer Writing from South Asia.

Edited by Kazim Ali, the book explores the intersection of queerness and faith through 44 literary pieces divided into four sections. In the introduction, Ali reflects on the evolving connotations of the word ‘queer,’ noting how LGBTQIA+ individuals have reclaimed it over the years. He also highlights the fascinating cross-pollination of ideas between Islam and Vedanta. He writes: “Did the poses of the Surya Namaskar come from the poses of the salaat, or was it the other way around? Does it matter? Did the devotional kirtan transform into qawwali, or did qawwali shape the musical elements of Vedic chanting?”

Ali’s powerful introduction sets the stage for the TQMP cohort to continue exploring, challenging, and reinterpreting these themes throughout the volume. The book touches on themes that deeply resonate with South Asian queers, such as alienation, grief, intimacy, body image, gender nonconformity, and identity in transition.

Ipsa’s verses from portrait of my body, aged 21, invert the lens through which one imagines oneself in space, describing the world as “just another stage.” Dia Yonzon, in Nangsal, reflects on grief and the inability to console the bereaved, subtly critiquing Buddha’s act of leaving his wife and son in search of enlightenment. Kiran Kumar’s Darling explores how a sportsperson’s softness baffles some people and underscores the discomfort of cold-hearted believers of binary companionship when they witness a same-sex couple expressing their love in public.

Adnan Shaikh’s essay, The Beauty and Complexity of Being Queer and Muslim, concludes with the poignant line, “Allah loves me just as I am.” In his poem Keithel da Eramkhi, Mesak Takhelmayum mourns the lost mutual respect between indigenous tribes in Manipur, writing, “What would the Lairembis make of what is written on our hearts?” (Lairembis: Goddess). Grief, djinns, and inquiries into faith return in Sara Haque’s A fever, a djinn, and the collectibles of grief.

In Section Two, Darius Stewart’s How to Start a Romance Novel showcases the unique ways language can be used to explore a queer quest for companionship. His clever use of footnotes adds charm to the piece. Amama Bashir’s Hassan Bhai delves into the secretive ways queer people navigate relationships in spaces dominated by heteropatriarchy, where the fear of ‘coming out’ can strip away the rights and respect that faith may provide.

In Your Birthmark in My Memories, Anna S compares a lover’s birthmark to “a country’s map,” invoking both the fragility of memory and the interconnectedness of love. Begum Taara Shakar, in Even Shaitan Showers, links the binary of day and night to the experience of queer individuals who drift apart in the light and come “back together in the dark.”

Isurinie Anuradha Mallawaarachchi’s To the American Suddi in Section Three is rich with themes of desire and self-image, while also alluding to the alienation felt by many queers of colour. A striking stanza reads:

“I keep my head down when I talk to you,

I know I stutter; I am alien to this friendliness

for teachers deserve respect, suddi plus teacher

double the respect, like queer plus brown

double the trauma, I smile in my head.”

Birat Bijay Ojha’s Darjeeling and Desires explores the way desires can unexpectedly surprise us, with a relatable story of a Grindr hookup. rajeev anand kushwah’s Silver Lining in the Bittersweet is a soothing reminder of how people remember their loves. They write:

“but tell me – I’m the ocean, you’re the horizon, aren’t we already

the same entity? yet you bond. like a sunflower bends to

the light.”

In the final section, Darius Stewart explores the representation of queer love in films like Call Me By Your Name in Love, Like in the Movies. Growing up in “in the projects” of Knoxville, Tennessee, Stewart reflects on the audacity required for a black boy to openly admire another black boy’s physical attributes and questions what to do with such desires.

Megha Harish in I’d never seen water so damn gay leverages Boolean algebra to critique heteropatriarchy’s failure to challenge its own conditioning.

The publication of this volume is a significant step in amplifying queer voices from across South Asia and underscores the importance of initiatives like Queer Writers' Room in fostering much-needed representation. It is a testament to TQMP’s commitment to inclusivity and visibility for marginalised voices.