Why I Lost My Shit When Justin Trudeau Wore Eid Socks.


Hello All. A very belated Eid Mubarak to everyone who was celebrating Eid Al Fitr this year. I posted about this on social media but completely neglected to actually blog about it so, my apologies. If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you would have seen deliciously artful shit like this:


Instagram

And then you'd have known that I couldn't write my follow up post about this glorious dish that's an integral part of my childhood and (every Eid celebration in my family) because of, well, this:


Twitter

What I mean to say is, my mum makes delicious seviyan every year and my hands were temporarily taken hostage by sexy talons of doom; but all is well now. Anyway, false nails and vermicelli desserts aside, what I wanted to talk about was something I came across on Twitter recently.

As some of you may know, like many big bleeding heart lefty liberals, I'm rather fond of Canadian Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau. So, when he attended Toronto Pride (yay) this year wearing Eid Mubarak socks Muslim Twitter, and the press, went a little nuts.


@halalsocks


The Guardian

It was a great day. I felt visible and oddly validated, in the same way I did when he was questioned on his choice to hire more women than any other administration before him and responded incredulously with, "Um.. because it's 2015?" This guy's progressive, inclusive platform is so infectious, as a female POC, it's difficult not to get swept up in it all. So, when I saw this floating about on Twitter, I thought I should take a brief moment to address it.



*sophisticated identity cloaking methods in use 

Firstly, I know used language very similar to this in my, OH MY GOD JUSTIN IS THE KING. MAKE. HIM. PRESIDENT. OF. EARTH. ALREADY. tweets that day, so I do appreciate all the caps. But what bothers me about these tweets is that this guy seems completely blind to the context of all the fervour and frivolity he's mocking so freely.

I'm a British Pakistani Muslim woman. Unlike our mystery tweeter, I grew up in a world where I did not see reflections of myself in the media, in politics, in fashion, in publishing, in popular music, in the books we read at school, the toys I played with, even most of the neighbourhoods I grew up in. So, when I see something that is so wholly connected to who I am being represented so proudly and positively by someone with such ubiquity on the World's stage, it really IS. EVERYTHING. Mate.

A man's sock choice when the world was watching that day was a statement; and that statement makes me feel seen. It makes me feel heard. It celebrates who and what I am. That hasn't happened to me throughout my life. That is (sadly) quite a rare and relatively new occurrence for so many of us. So, when the 23rd Prime Minister of Canada wishes us Eid Mubarak with his international happy feet, we're going to throw our hands up, have some mithai, and fucking tweet about it, love.


tenor.com

To be clear, the person that tweeted this isn't a bad guy, he's actually rather funny usually. But what I don't want you to do is see asinine tweets like the ones above, that might be said in ignorance, and without fully understanding your particular point of view, and then be discouraged from expressing yourself online as a result. I'm rather outgoing and opinionated and even I felt a little deflated when I saw this. But bitches be crazy and haters gonna do.... something hatey I suppose. The point is, fuck that and, YAY, EID SOCKS!

And if you have found that you're retreating into your shell, for whatever reason, here's some encouragement to get you back on that horse and let your inner caramel prince / princess shine; because depriving the world of your glorious brownness would be an absolute travesty so:


YAAAAAAAAAAS Qweeeeeen WEEEEEERRRRK.
GO BAE. Slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. YOU. DO. YOU.
Shantay you stay

I.
AM.
SHOOKETH.

(and other youthful colloquialisms).



Ok, Grandma's tired now children,
go away.

-N





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