Many of us from time to time聽will work with clients who聽come from different cultural聽and spiritual backgrounds to聽our own. Aabira was one such woman. I聽come from a background in Christianity,聽she was a Muslim. How, I wondered could聽we work together in ways that would聽enable her to explore her spirituality,聽without imposing my own interpretations聽of what her faith, or life events may have聽meant to her?
I hope over the next few issues of聽Thresholds that some of you will share聽your own practices and ways of working,聽such that we can learn from each other,聽and promote good practice within the聽field of spirituality. Within this issue,聽Aabira, a young Muslim woman, and聽myself, a middle aged Christian woman,聽thought you may be interested in our聽work together.
Narrative practices influence both my聽counselling and research activities. Aabira聽contacted me some months ago in the聽context of a narrative research project that聽I am currently involved with. As we talked聽and wrote together, it became evident that聽her life experiences, especially culturally聽and spiritually, were very different from聽my own and I was in danger of using my聽own, rather than her, interpretations of聽what events meant to her. After talking聽with Aabira and sharing my dilemma,聽she decided that, for her, the most helpful聽thing would be to write her story, and for聽me to read and talk with her about what聽she had written. This we did over the聽course of several weeks. Writing her story聽Aabira felt would be a way that enabled聽her to define her experiences, and move聽forward from them without having to fit聽what she said into any theories I might聽have about her life. She was concerned聽that often, within the mental health聽system, she had been treated, 鈥榓s if my faith聽is totally immaterial to who I am, when it is聽in fact an integral part of my being; and if it聽is ignored, I am less than human鈥�.
I was amazed at the writing that emerged聽and asked her whether she would be聽interested in sharing her stories with wider聽audiences. She felt strongly that this would聽be a way to give a voice to the often聽silenced views that many Muslim women聽have as they struggle through the mental聽health system, and would enable other聽therapists to think about the way in which聽they worked with people whose religion聽and culture was different from their own.聽This opportunity to have a voice was seen聽by her as, 鈥榟ealing鈥�. She told me: 鈥榊ou will聽never know how much the honouring of聽my world means.鈥�
As a narrative therapist and researcher,聽this kind of writing is common to my聽practice, and often enables people to聽鈥榬e-author鈥�1 their lives. Seeing the world,聽as I do, as being socially constructed聽through relationship and the stories聽people tell of their lives, means that the therapeutic or聽research task is not so much about defining the 鈥榩roblem鈥櫬燼nd enabling the person to find within themselves inner聽resources to 鈥榞row and become鈥�2,3, but more about聽facilitating a telling of 鈥榬ich descriptions鈥�3 of the person鈥檚聽life experience. Descriptions that they would prefer to be聽defined by.
Within this way of working, Aabira was free from my聽suppositions about her faith, spirituality or culture, and聽also any assumptions I might have about the nature of聽depression. I was able to listen to her interpretation of聽the meaning of events, rather than imposing my own聽prejudgments. At the beginning of our work together聽Aabira鈥檚 writing was full of what she described as 鈥榤y聽despair at being trapped by depression within a system聽of non-belief鈥�. She went on to write:
鈥業 have chosen the name Aabira for myself which means聽something like ethereal, fleeting. I feel that way. I am floating聽in the universe, touching gently against others, but making聽no impact on them. A pencil figure transposed on a聽multicolour world.
My life is one of acceptance, Allah be praised,聽
but it is not always the life I would choose.
The lily dips its head聽
pulled into the water by a thousand droplets.聽
Rain melds the delicate petals聽
until a blurred sodden mass breaks free.
Down the river it rushes
hurtled against rocks
the teeth tearing away at the fabric of its being.
I see it as it passes,
a fleeting presence.
Battered, sinking it fights for life.
Stinking flotsam overtakes it
subsumed into oneness with the river.
Struggling, it cruises into an inlet
passed by, ignored.
Bedraggled, inconspicuous, it exists.鈥�
Aabira often used poetry and metaphor to describe her聽experiences. As she wrote she explained to me something聽of what this meant to her; she told me a little about her life聽and the reasons she sees herself as this 鈥榝lotsam stuck in the聽inlet鈥� and about the 鈥榮tuckness depression imposes鈥�.聽Working with the metaphor enabled me to engage with her聽without passing any judgment on the 鈥榝acts鈥�, which might,聽she felt, 鈥榖e culturally difficult for me to understand鈥�. I asked聽if there was anything or any way that could help move or聽free the flotsam. She replied: 鈥楶erhaps I can write myself a聽better story鈥�. We discussed how this might happen and she聽felt strongly that prayer and learning more about Allah was聽key. She wrote in her journal:
鈥楨ngaging with someone from outside the聽faith, about Mohammed, may his name be聽praised, is helpful. It strengthens me. If聽I talked to another Muslim, I would聽assume they knew what I meant,聽whereas in fact my interpretation聽may be different, and I fear their聽judgment. Sue is very clear that she聽knows nothing, and that I am the聽teacher, but she is also open to聽spiritual practices. It is slow progress聽as I have to explain everything and聽I am constantly rewriting what I have written. Curiously, as聽I rewrite, different parts become more relevant. Somehow聽I am writing myself into a different place. This is more a聽story of liberation, a story of hope. The doctors prescribed聽treatment for despair, but there is always hope, Allah be聽praised. It is within the words of poetry and prayer that I聽break free from this earthly life and become part of the聽universe, part of the divine, transformed beyond the pain鈥�.
Aabira wanted to have her stories read by others, and we聽talked about how best this might happen. She shared some聽of them with her son, and friends. I also consulted my聽supervisor and other counsellors. The consensus was that聽the poetry and the way they described the transformation聽in her life were more important than the facts of her life,聽which could be misinterpreted. In the telling of these聽stories to others she found that the stories themselves聽had changed. She writes:
鈥楾he lily tilts its head to the moonlight,
ethereal beams of light
shine down.
It is washed now by the grace
of planets unknown;
connected through an umbilical of hope.
That same light
is a light from the heavens.
From the light come the Angels,
Angels so beautiful beyond humanity鈥檚 eye.
Their gaze caresses my soul.
They link my insubstantial life
to that of divine.
They forgive my weakness
and take away my fear
giving hope of a life beyond what is now.
The doctors at the hospital tied a label onto me, 鈥榙epression鈥�,聽but it is not a language I understand. It comes from a聽different dimension where Allah, may his name be praised,聽does not exist, and family and cultural boundaries mean聽nothing. I cannot live within that label, any more. All things聽have a meaning and will be resolved.聽
Writing my story and having it honoured and respected聽by others means much; and having it told, in ways that聽empower me, strengthens my resolve. As I write, I聽understand more of what has been my life, and what is聽important. My life has grown into meaning, into more than聽any earthly pain endured. It is through my prayer and聽thought that I am enriched. My past has pain in it, but even聽this has given something to my life. Without it I would not聽be reliant on a life of prayer, and it is through this prayer that聽I am transformed.
I cannot change what has happened, but I can embrace the聽teachings of Mohammed, may his name be praised, and this聽embracing enables me to hold my head up high, and the聽depression flees. I change my name to Aarifa; a strong聽woman who knows Islam.
Having the freedom to write, and rewrite, and talk with聽someone, even though she came from a different faith,聽has helped me. Always having to live within mental health聽definitions is like living within the walls of a prison. I ask聽you, 鈥渋s it therapeutic to shut out the divine?鈥欌�濃��
Narrative practices are only one way of working, and I am聽sure that there are a myriad of alternative ways in which I聽could have approached this work. Hopefully, however, it has聽proved to be a respectful way of enabling two women from聽different backgrounds to communicate at a spiritual level,聽which had meaning, and shares with others something of聽a therapeutic process. Although it set out to be a research聽conversation, Aabira found that it was in fact therapeutic,聽and as she stated, 鈥榓n altogether transformational process鈥�.聽There is not space within this article to explore the聽connections between narrative research and therapy, but聽interested readers can find more information in the works聽of Kim Etherington4 and Jane Speedy5.
Aabira has chosen to write under a pseudonym. She is聽currently living and studying for a degree in social sciences聽in Birmingham. I am grateful to Aabira for allowing her聽story to be published in Thresholds.
Susan Dale, editor of Thresholds, also works as a narrative聽researcher, counsellor, supervisor and writer, based in聽Machynlleth in mid Wales. Details of her work can be found聽.
References
1. White M. Re-Authoring lives. Adelaide: Dulwich Centre; 1995.
2. Rogers C. On becoming a person. London: Constable; 1961.
3. White M, Epston D. Narrative means to therapeutic ends.聽New York: WW Norton and company; 1990.
4. Etherington K. Research with ex-clients: a celebration and聽extension of the therapeutic process. British journal of guidance聽and counselling. 2001; 29:1.
5. Speedy J. Narrative inquiry and psychotherapy. Houndsmill:聽Palgrave Macmillan; 2007.