In the years since I read Umm Zakiyyah’s Footsteps, I have yet to find another Islamic fiction that tackles the issue of polygamy among Muslims with the same level of nuance. For one, while my current “reading as a writer” brain would have loved a more distinctive exploration of each character and further development of their individual voices, the way the author let us into individual minds of the three main parties afforded greater – albeit aspirational – insight into what parties involved in an islamic polygamy may be feeling in such a situation. I liked that we got to see the point of view of the three significant players in the polygamy arc, and how the characters centred their desires upon pleasing Allah and not upon making their wants and desires the most central part of what drives their decision.
Footsteps follows the story of Ismail (Biracial – white mum & Black dad, 48) and Sarah (white, 50) amidst a host of other characters who, after twenty-six years of a largely successful marriage, are dealing with Ismail’s desire to marry Alika (Black – African American mum & Nigerian father, 29?) as his subsequent wife.
In addition to the issue of polygamy, the book is a bit heavy on social commentary on race relations in America (which may make the book a bit dense for people outside of those cultures and country). It also addresses cross-cultural marriages, particularly between a Black/white American and a Desi American. Plus a bit about navigating relationships with non-muslim family members, especially as a convert. A bit different from our usual staple at the BMW bookclub…
The question the book raises for me: how does an otherwise loving and pious Muslim husband approach the issue of polygamy? When does he bring the issue up with his current wife? What if she’s unreceptive to the idea? How a muslim man might approach polygamy in a way that he doesn’t lose his current wife. As the Imam character in Footsteps pointed out, Muslim men in these situations have to ponder the ramifications of what they want, and proceed accordingly.
“I thought she didn’t have to agree.”
Abdul-Quddus laughed. “She does if you want polygamy and not a divorce.”
For the purpose of this review, I will use each quote from the main characters to explain their points of view and highlight my opinions.
Ismael:
What if he told her the closest thing to the truth? That it was because he was so pleased with her, so complete with her, so at peace in their relationship that he wanted the same, even if something only slightly comparable, with someone else.
Ismael is very much the aspirational “man written by a woman” albeit in Muslim style. We see a man who is devoted to his wife, his family, and never expected to be in this situation. Then he started to catch feelings and thought to ‘make it halal.’ In many ways, the author was most sympathetic to this character – even his flaws are played off with an angst that I find difficult to believe plagues the typical Muslim man contemplating polygamy. But, even making allowance for how aspirational this character was, so much of his interior was too ‘boys will be boys’ to sit well with me.
Women simply could not comprehend man’s desire, or need, for another woman. And men could not remove women’s jealousy, or resentment, when he sought to act upon that desire. It was one of Allah’s tests on the earth. He gave men a polygamous nature, and women a jealous one. And it was up to men and women to find a middle ground.
There was too much of passing off his own desires as ‘what Allaah wants’ that triggers the feminine rage boiling from years of being told our emotions – as women – do not matter…
No, he would not cut off Alika because of Sarah’s jealousy. It would make no sense. Allah created women jealous, and He created men polygamous. Ismael would just have to make do.
No, he was not going to apologize for fearing Allah. He was not going to apologize for wanting something Allah allowed, and doing it right at that. He didn’t want a future without Sarah. But at this point he was beginning to accept that it wasn’t his decision. The decision was hers. He didn’t have to choose.
Finally, he really didn’t have to choose.
As a man, Ismael couldn’t begin to put into words how relieved that made him feel.
I wanted to root for Ismael. Younger me did when I read this book the first time. Now though, much as I hope that the men show their wives some measure of emotional awareness and sensitivity he displayed on occasion, I can’t get over how very ‘a Good Man’ trope this is.
Sarah:
She deserved more. She was a whole woman, a complete woman, worthy of a one-woman man. She was not a desperate widow or a divorced woman with five children. So why should she have to divide her nights with a man she had been married to more than half her life?
For a main character, a presumed ‘aggrieved party’, I found Sarah annoying and very difficult to like. She was whiny and entitled, and often not for the right reasons. I wonder if this was a reverse stereotype thing – the way men write flat women characters, and white writers do stereotypes of POCs. Whatever the case, there was little redeeming to Sarah; whether she was sabotaging her daughter’s marriage prospect or envying the girl’s relationship with her father. Her relationships and her reasonings felt shallow and self-centered – why did he want Ameena with Teddy? What’s that barely masked smug superiority to her sister? Even her redemption arc stretched the limit of my believability, much as I loved the realization she came to, something I wish more Muslim women (as wives) would find their way to.
Realization, and relief—that cursed relief! —settled over her as she accepted that it was not polygamy that bothered her. It was insecurity, an insecurity that Ismael could neither grant nor take away. Even if he never married anyone else.
Her heart belonged to Allah, and her security was within. No one could take that from her. No one could even threaten it. Not if she were a true servant of Allah. Her peace was in her relationship with Him, not with her husband or children. Or anyone.
Atika
Conversely, I liked Alika. The author doesn’t give me enough to fall in love with her, but I expect that this was one character – had she been more fleshed out – I could easily love. Given her history, I went from, ‘Girl, why would you do that to yourself?’ to ‘Good for you!’ then to full blown rooting for her. There was a no-nonsense practicality to her, even as she was so irrationally loved up – very in keeping with her Nigerian heritage! I loved how she did not hesitate to ream Ismael
“If you can’t be there for Sarah right now, when she needs you most,” she said as he slipped on his shoes, “I’m afraid of what that means for me when I need you too.”
And her, again very aspirational, self awareness of how the situation could evolve, especially in relation to herself, whilst still holding a kind space for Sarah. We don’t often see women coming into an already established marriage displaying/ willing to accept this.
I realized how much this was not about me. This was about a family, a woman, a special woman on the other end. That she deserved whatever time she needed to adjust to the idea.” She paused, gathering the strength for her last words. “If she ever adjusted to it.”
Again, not to flog the dead horse too much, I wanted to see more of Alika’s interiority. How she reconciled her past memories with her family situation with her current choices. Her thought and opinion on them, rather than her almost avoidant refusal to examine those issues.
In my previous review of So Long A Letter, I thought that book posed the question of whether or not a woman should stay in a polygamy, especially if she had not previously agreed to or been informed of it. I found Footsteps to be an examination of what islamic polygamy could look like, when all parties recognise what they stand to lose.
Footsteps is a worthy read and the quotes that sums up its essence are:
“Most Muslim men don’t have the spiritual or emotional sense to handle more than one woman, despite their polygamous nature. And the world’s a better place if they realize this before they go and ruin women’s lives in the process.”
“Women seemed to always be in fight or flight mode when it came to a problem. But what struck her as odd was that the women who really needed to run didn’t, and the ones who really needed to stay, ran.”
Muti'ah Badruddeen 
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