A Critical Appraisal of Islamic Feminism on Patriarchy and Division of Labor

Fatima Mernissi (1940 – 2015) is widely regarded as a pioneer of Islamic feminism, particularly for her critiques of patriarchy in Muslim societies. Through works such as Beyond the Veil (2003), Women’s Rebellion and Islamic Memory (1996), and Women and Islam (1991), Mernissi challenges male-dominated interpretations of Islamic texts, arguing that women’s subjugation is deeply rooted in patriarchal structures reinforced by religious scholarship. Fatema Mernissi’s influence stems from her ability to connect elements of the Islamic tradition with feminist principles, critically engaging with patriarchal interpretations and encouraging a reassessment of women’s roles in Islam. Her scholarship is considered a foundational reference in contemporary debates on gender and Islam, promoting a vision of the faith that is more inclusive and egalitarian. 

However, in acknowledgment of Fatema Mernissi’s contributions to Islamic feminism, this paper seeks to engage critically with her work, offering a nuanced appraisal of her arguments. While Mernissi’s scholarship has been foundational in shaping contemporary discussions on gender and Islam, this study aims to explore its strengths and limitations. This article highlights two key issues: (1) her universalizing tendencies, which flatten the diversity of patriarchal structures across Muslim societies, and (2) her reliance on a flawed conceptualization of Islamic cosmology, where she interprets gender relations through an antagonistic lens rather than a complementary one. Additionally, her comparisons between Freud’s psychoanalysis and al-Ghazali’s Islamic scholarship raise methodological concerns, as they impose Western psychological constructs onto Islamic traditions. While Mernissi’s work remains foundational in Islamic feminist discourse, this article argues for a more nuanced engagement with Islamic tradition and intellectual diversity, and historical specificity is necessary to refine feminist critiques within the Islamic framework.

Patriarchy: The Roots of Gender Inequality in Islam?

Feminism views patriarchy as the root cause of gender inequality, arguing that women are subordinated because men hold more power. Concepts such as equality, justice, and freedom are undeniably recognized in Islam as fundamental values. However, how these principles are framed, for what purpose, and in what contexts remains a slippery terrain within Islamic feminism discourse. In practice, these ideas are interpreted differently depending on who controls knowledge production, definitions, and narratives. Islamic feminism broadly encompasses theological critiques and women’s movements focused on justice and equality. It can be described as any critique by Muslim women of Islamic history or hermeneutics, advocating for full participation of women in a just society.^{1 2} More specifically, it draws from the Qur’an to argue for gender equality as part of human equality.³ In works such as Beyond the Veil: Male-Female Dynamics in Muslim Society (2003), Women’s Rebellion and Islamic Memory (1996), and Women and Islam (1991), Mernissi challenges traditional Islamic scholarship, arguing that religious interpretations—primarily controlled by men—have institutionalized women’s subordination. Her work is groundbreaking in its attempt to deconstruct patriarchal narratives within Islamic history and propose an alternative feminist framework rooted in reinterpretation of Islamic texts.

Beyond the Veil was first published in 1975 and became a pioneer in what is known to be Islamic feminism written by a Muslim Arab woman. The book sets Islamic feminism apart from its predecessors such as Huda Sha’arawi, Qasim Amin, and Nazira Zain al-Din because Fatima Mernissi conducted the first modern study of women in Muslim societies informed not only by close examination and reinterpretation of Islamic texts, but also in combining historical and fieldwork based sociological studies. Mernissi further develops this endeavor through Women’s Rebellion and Islamic Memory (1996). 

Mernissi’s analysis of patriarchy in Islam is based on the argument that religious texts have been interpreted through a male-centric lens, reinforcing structures of power that marginalize women. She contends that patriarchal control over women in Muslim societies operates through four interrelated mechanisms: First, legal Institutionalization, where Islamic family law codifies gender hierarchy. Second, internalization of gender norms where women’s sexuality is controlled through social conditioning. Third, territorialization of Muslim sexuality, embodying gender segregation that reinforces patriarchy.And fourth, modernity as a paradox, where capitalism expands women’s public roles but also reinforces patriarchal norms.

Mernissi dedicates two chapters in Women and Islam (1991) to examining what she describes as misogynistic traditions within Islam. Importantly, the phrase ‘misogynistic’ does not refer narrowly to formal legal rulings (ahkam) that explicitly codify gender hierarchy. Rather, Mernissi is concerned with the broader discursive and interpretive frameworks through which certain ahadith have been selectively transmitted, authenticated, and deployed to reinforce patriarchal norms over time.

Her critique focuses particularly on the sociopolitical contexts in which these hadiths were compiled and institutionalized—contexts she argues were already shaped by power struggles, male dominance, and anxieties over women’s public roles. These chapters focus on two hadiths: the prohibition of women serving as leaders, narrated by Abu Bakra (ra)—the freed slave who escaped Ta’if, not to be mistaken to Abu Bakr (as)-Shiddiq (ra)—and the notion that women are among the factors that invalidate prayer, narrated by Abu Hurairah (ra). Mernissi provides an extensive analysis of the debates surrounding the context in which these hadiths were spoken and Aisha bint Abu Bakr’s (ra) corrections of their transmission errors. She also explores the personal backgrounds and character of Abu Bakra (ra) and Abu Hurairah (ra), questioning their reliability as narrators. Despite these concerns, both hadiths—often cited as evidence of Islam’s patriarchal stance—were ultimately recorded in Sahih Bukhari. 

Making this distinction explicit helps clarify Mernissi’s methodological position: her critique targets the traditioning process itself—the human acts of interpretation, authentication, and institutionalization of knowledge—rather than Islam as a faith or the Shariʿah in its totality. By doing so, she opens space for feminist re-readings of foundational texts and challenges readers to disentangle historical patriarchy from the ethical core of the religion.

Having said this, one significant historical event concerning early Muslim women that Mernissi omits in Women and Islam is the Battle of Banu Qaynuqa. According to Ibn Hisham’s Sirah, this conflict arose when Jewish men harassed a Muslim woman in their marketplace, attempting to force her to unveil. When she refused, a goldsmith tied her garment, exposing her when she stood. As the men laughed, a Muslim bystander killed the goldsmith, prompting retaliation and escalating tensions. The incident shocked the Muslim community, leading the Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) to besiege Banu Qaynuqa for fifteen nights until their surrender. Their hostility had already been evident, as they had previously mocked the Prophet’s preaching. In response, Surah Ali ‘Imran (3:12-14) was revealed, condemning their defiance and recalling the Muslims’ victory in Badr. 

It remains unclear why Mernissi, despite her detailed and sharp historiographical analysis, omits this event. While Mernissi focuses on the “flaws” of the Prophet’s companions and the minor disputes among them regarding hadith transmission, she situates them within the post-Hijrah revolutionary years in Medina. However, she does not contextualize them as key actors navigating existential threats—from the Quraysh in Mecca and the hypocrites and Jewish factions in Medina.

In this context, as the Muslim ummah was in the early stages of building a new, multi-tribal community in Medina, maintaining constant vigilance was not optional but necessary. The honor of the Muslim community was an expression of collective solidarity and an embodiment of tawhid (divine oneness). While Mernissi acknowledges this broader historical setting, she chooses to problematize certain hadiths, labelling them misogynistic, and attributes disputes among the Prophet’s (ﷺ) companions as the foundation of patriarchal traditions in Islam.

Such generalizations reflect Mernissi’s focus on women’s agency as an individualistic phenomenon. She scrutinizes the psychological profile of Abu Hurairah (as), the background and errors of Abu Bakra (as), Aisha’s (ra) correction of Abu Hurairah (ra), and Umar ibn Khattab’s (ra) stern attitude toward his wives. In deconstructing these elements, Mernissi applies a liberal lens, analyzing gender dynamics at an individual level and attributing the disputes surrounding hadith transmission and the behaviour of the Prophet’s companions to their impact on women as individuals. The investigation seems to overlook the collective ethos of futuwwa (chivalry) and ghirah (protective honor) among the early Muslims, particularly in their uncompromising stance on defending the dignity of a single Arab woman from the general population against the actions of the Jewish men of Banu Qaynuqa. In contrast, the Banu Qaynuqa incident reveals a larger and more consequential gender dynamic in Islamic history—one in which social solidarity was an expression of faith. It underscores the Muslim community’s unwavering opposition to oppression, exploitation, and discrimination, a defining characteristic of Islam’s expansionist phase.

If a misogynistic tradition had already begun to take root in early Medina, then why did Muslim men not simply allow the perpetrators of this harassment to live freely, or merely warn and advise them? More significantly, why did they not blame the Arab woman herself, arguing that she had taken the risk of venturing into a crowded market, where she was bound to interact with men in an unsupervised setting? Instead, the early Muslims chose to defend the honor of an ordinary Muslim woman, even at the cost of their own lives—to the extent that the Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) personally led the siege of Banu Qaynuqa and appointed Basyir bin Abdul Mundhir as the interim imam in Medina. The Prophet (ﷺ) stated that “Never will succeed such a nation as makes a woman their ruler,” , and the early Muslims did not debate this—yet they were willing to sacrifice their lives for a single Muslim woman who had been dishonored. Put into the historical context, it demonstrates a profound expression of protection and justice. While Mernissi’s criticisms are useful in understanding structural gender dynamics in Islamic history and its development within the capitalist trajectory, Islamic feminism tends to generalize the Muslim experience, treating patriarchy as a monolithic structure rather than recognizing its regional and historical variations. 

Freud, Al-Ghazali, and the Psychology of Gender Relations

Mernissi’s comparison between Western psychoanalysis and Islamic scholarship is intriguing yet merits further analysis. To explore the contradiction between official and institutionalized interpretations of Islam and gender equality, Mernissi introduces ‘double theory of sexual dynamics’ that consist of explicit and implicit dynamics. The explicit dynamic aligns with Western views that portray men as aggressive and women as passive, which Mernissi examines through Freud’s secular, Christian-rooted perspective on female sexuality. Freud influenced Western modern culture by emphasizing sex as the driving force behind the development of civilization. Yet, Freud’s polarization of human sexuality with femininity as passive and masculinity as active suggests a one-dimensional role for women, of submission and dependency.⁴ Mernissi notes, “For Freud, the female’s aggression, in accordance with her sexual passivity, is turned inward. She is masochistic.”⁴ Freud reinforced gender hierarchies that limit women’s autonomy and portray them as subordinate to men.

She draws parallels between Freud’s theory of female sexuality and al-Ghazali’s perspectives on women, arguing that both construct women as dangerous forces that must be controlled to maintain social order. According to Mernissi, this gender antagonism manifests differently. In Freud’s framework, women are seen as passive and masochistic, with their aggression turned inward. In al-Ghazali’s Islamic thought, women are seen as sexually active and disruptive, requiring strict control to prevent societal chaos. Mernissi concludes that, despite these opposing characterizations, both Freud and al-Ghazali ultimately frame women as threats to male stability, reinforcing patriarchal dominance.

The implicit dynamic is the dominant Muslim paradigm that perceives women as active sexual agents, hence must be controlled to prevent men from distraction and destruction. Mernissi uses references from Imam al-Ghazali on women’s sexuality, in what she says as an antagonistic, machismo outlook. For example, Mernissi cites al-Ghazali who considered men as hunters, in which sexual desire was created to deliver the seed into the women in order to obtain progeny.⁴ Women are seen as preys and passive victims, yet women’s power is the most destructive element in Muslim social order that needs to be guarded and tamed. Mernissi concludes, “the irony is that Muslim and European theories come to the same conclusion: women are destructive to the social order–for Imam al-Ghazali because they are active, for Freud because they are not.”⁴

Therefore, it can be concluded from her arguments that patriarchy is ingrained in men’s psyche and in a sexual relationship that perceive women as the enemy. Mernissi uses Freud’s psychology of love regarding the patriarchal unconsciousness and explains, “the great tragedy of the patriarchal male: his status lies in irrational schizophrenic contradictions and is vested in a being whom he as defined from the start as the enemy-women and her subterranean silence.”⁵ In resisting men’s adversary outlook towards women they intimately encounter, Mernissi argues that virginity is not biological, but a social concept. Patriarchal society and religious obsession with women’s purity is buried in the primitive recesses of human memory, a taboo that manifested through men’s fear over women.⁶ This explains al-Ghazali’s suspicion towards women’s active sexuality, where fear is an instinctual alert response to physical attraction. 

While this comparison is provocative, it is also methodologically problematic. In discussing viewpoints of Al-Ghazali and Freud, Mernissi aims to compare two distinct cultures on conception of sexuality, highlighting the character of Muslim theories of male-female dynamics rather than comparing the condition of women in the Judeo-Christian West and the Muslim East.⁴ However, two issues remain problematic with her comparative methodology. 

First, Islamic tradition offers diverse perspectives on women’s sexuality and their agency. Al-Ghazali, an eleventh-century philosopher, polymath and Sufi, is one among many scholars on the subject. Scholars such as Ibn Hazm, Ibn Arabi, Ibn Rushd, and Ibn Taymiyyah offered more nuanced views on gender and sexuality. For example, Kecia Ali in Sexual Ethics and Islam: Feminist Reflections on the Qur’an, Hadith and Jurisprudence (2006) recognizes the importance of exploring Islamic jurisprudence and acknowledges the methodological superiority of classical scholars. The Islamic tradition is characterized by the acceptance of diverse perspectives and meticulous efforts to understand the Divine Will. She explores in detail classical texts which have been the locus of patriarchal interpretation and debate about its practice in intimate relations between genders. Mernissi’s focus on al-Ghazali and portraying his views as gender antagonism reveals a selective bias within the rich Islamic tradition to fit her Freudian preference while generalizing about Islam.

Second, Freud lived as a European male psychologist during the modern era of industrial revolution and late nineteenth century colonialism. It is a flawed methodology to compare Europe as a geopolitical and civilizational marker to Islam, a belief system whose civilization marker is not confined to a specific geopolitical unit. Classical Islamic scholarship derives its norms and law from a divine revelation of al-Qur’an and sunnah, maintaining an ‘ijma (consensus) on its basic tenets. Comparing al-Ghazali’s view on sexuality and Prophet Muhammad’s (ﷺ) sexual life with Freudian theory is an example of Chakrabarty’s critique of the problem of translation, which assumes a “single, homogenous and secular historical time” of centering Europe as the primary reference.⁷

‘Problem of translation’ here refers to concepts and categories in describing modernity that are deeply rooted in European historical experiences and intellectual traditions. When these concepts are applied to non-Western societies, they often fail to capture the unique historical and cultural contexts of these regions. On the different treatment in religion by European secularism vis-a-vis the colonized, Chakrabarty highlights an important point, with a bit of cynicism, “one empirically knows of no society in which humans have existed without gods and spirits accompanying them. Although the God of monotheism may have taken a few knocks in the 19th century European story, the gods and other agents inhabiting practices of ‘superstition’ have never died anywhere.”⁷

Freud’s theories emerged in a specific European intellectual tradition, shaped by modern psychology and 19th-century colonial contexts. Al-Ghazali, on the other hand, was a 11th-century Islamic scholar operating within a vastly different theological and philosophical framework. Treating Freudian psychoanalysis and Islamic jurisprudence as interchangeable analytical tools risks oversimplifying both traditions and imposing Western gender constructs onto Islamic thought. A more balanced approach would engage with a wider spectrum of Islamic perspectives on gender, rather than isolating al-Ghazali as representative of Islamic views on women. Furthermore, Mernissi’s critique of Islamic jurisprudence often overlooks counter-narratives within the tradition itself. By selectively focusing on a single strand of Islamic thought, Mernissi’s analysis risks reinforcing the same patriarchal generalizations she seeks to dismantle.

Moreover, Mernissi attributes the tension between Islamic tradition and modernity on women’s sexuality solely to post-colonial Muslim societies’ adherence to a ‘Ghazalian perspective’ vis-a-vis Western societies’ embrace of Freudian psychoanalysis. This undermines Mernissi’s own nuanced critique of modernity, which she analyzes as the economic basis of sexual anomie and women’s exploitation in the labor market.⁴ This view further downplays diverse forms of women’s agency within patriarchy while universalizing it, implying that the treatment of women by institutions like religion, law, and the state stem from a primitive male psyche. She resonates with the ambivalence in feminist constructivism regarding the origins of patriarchy that has remained in a circular debate.

Gendered Space and Universalizing Patriarchy

The concept of mahram, gendered rules of social engagement and gender segregation are considered part of the patriarchal and oppressive practice in Muslim communities. Muslim sexuality is governed by boundaries, with rules primarily involving a clear division of space for each gender and detailed rituals to address any conflicts that arise when these spaces inevitably intersect.⁴ Mernissi quotes one hadith compiled in Jami’ At-Tirmidhi, “Do not go to the women whose husbands are absent. Because Satan will get in your bodies as blood rushes through your flesh.”⁴ She concludes that a married woman whose husband is absent is a threat to men.

The hadith itself has another complete, verified narration that provides a better context. From Sahih Muslim, no. 2173, “A group of people from Banu Hashim entered the house of Asma bint Umays and then Abu Bakr entered, and she was his wife at that time. He saw them and disapproved of it, and he mentioned it to Allah’s Messenger and said: ‘I only saw good [in my wife].’ Thereupon, Allah’s Messenger said: ‘Indeed Allah has made her immune from all this.’ Then Allah’s Messenger stood on the pulpit and said: ‘After this day no man should enter upon a woman whose husband is absent, except when he is accompanied by one or two men’.” This hadith states that a man may only visit a non-maḥram woman at her house in her husband’s absence if accompanied by another man or several men, as being alone with her (khalwa) is haram. The presence of others prevents inappropriate actions and removes suspicion. It is not, like Mernissi’s viewpoint, a sweeping condemnation of a man and a married woman who simply meet and further an inherent bondage towards women’s mobility. Imam al-Nawawi, the great Muslim scholar of the thirteenth century, was of the position that purposeful interaction between men and women without physical barriers (such as curtain) is allowed if it has an allocated space for men and women, provided there is allocated space for men and women and the interaction does not occur in private between two non-mahrams.

She continues by citing Surah An-Nisa verse 34, “Men are in charge of women, because Allah hath made the one of them to excel the other, and because they spend of their property [for the support of women]. So good women are the obedient, guarding in secret that which Allah hath guarded” which she critiques as enshrining gendered definitions of work that uphold patriarchal legitimacy. The textual intervention in interpreting Surah An-Nisa verse 34 is often framed as a contest between “women’s reasoning” and the traditionally dominant and supposedly universal male (‘ulama) reasoning. In this process, the Qur’an is either forced to conform to anti-patriarchal principles, or the interpreter imposes an anti-patriarchal reading on the text, assuming that anti-patriarchy is inherently just and ideal.

Feminism tends to uphold the Qur’an’s universal values as a basis for rejecting male leadership or guardianship over women, as stated in Surah An-Nisa (4:34). However, this approach overlooks the possibility that the universal values of tawhid, taqwa, and adl (justice) can coexist harmoniously with the particularity of this verse, which designates men as leaders or protectors of women. This raises a critical question: is anti-patriarchy itself an absolute standard of justice and equality—perhaps even more so than divine revelation, which establishes men as leaders or protectors of women? Furthermore, should we feel compelled to create a narrative that Islam and the divine speech of the Qur’an must align with the anti-patriarchal framework as understood by feminism? Mernissi’s methodology, by rejecting male-dominated Qur’anic interpretation, employs what Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad calls an “hermeneutics of suspicion.”⁸ This approach aligns with feminist epistemology that views dominant knowledge production as male-biased, androcentric, or misogynistic. Similarly, Islamic feminism, in adopting this approach, questions male primacy, leadership, and masculinity in Islamic texts.

Mernissi’s Islamic feminism has its universalizing tendency that reinforces not only Orientalist stereotypical view of one-dimensional Muslim women, but also the concept of patriarchy itself, which flattens the complexity of gender relations in Muslim societies as well as society at large. She often treats patriarchy as an inherent feature of Islam, without fully accounting for regional, historical, and socio-economic variations in how gender roles are constructed. For instance, Islamic family law is interpreted and applied differently across various Muslim-majority societies, influenced by local customs, economic structures, and political histories. Southeast Asian Muslim societies such as Indonesia and Malaysia have historically exhibited more gender-egalitarian norms, where women actively participate in trade, politics, and religious scholarship.⁹¹⁰ In contrast, some Middle Eastern societies have harsher gender restrictions, influenced also by tribal customs and colonial legacies. By universalizing patriarchy, Mernissi risks reinforcing Western stereotypes of Muslim women as inherently oppressed, rather than acknowledging the diversity of women’s agency within Islamic frameworks.

In the Islamic tradition, the concept of binary reflects a co-constitutive existence, manifesting through the creation of humanity and the universe. The Qur’an contains numerous verses illustrating this duality in complementary pairs, such as heaven and earth, man and woman, moon and sun, life and death, and day and night—each a creation of God. Islamic cosmology treats this binary with the principle of mizan–balance, equity and justice–in a fundamental triad of ontology, vocational and platonic dynamic equilibrium.¹¹ Ontological triad refers to balance and hierarchy between human’s faith in a sacred origin of their worlds and in the relationship between the unseen, the man, and the material forms. Vocational triad is the establishment of balance, fluidity, and interdependency of scholars-priests, warriors-rulers, and merchants-craftsmen as archetypes that define the character of civilization. Platonic triad is a balance of human’s three faculties that is intellect, anger and desire. Islam and Christianity shared an understanding of these fundamental realms.¹¹

Instead of perceiving relations of men and women as antagonistic, Islam states that both are created as pairs to regenerate, hence mutually co-exist and co-constitutive. The Qur’an states that “It is He Who created you from a single person, and made his mate of like nature, in order that he might dwell with her in love” (7:189). “And of everything we have created pairs [zawjayn]” (51:49). The Qur’an also refers to men and women as one another’s “protectors” (9:71). This co-constitutive existence ensures human endurance and regeneration because humankind must cooperate to survive. Marriage and sex are essential parts of human affection to social and biological reproduction. Rather than a system of antagonism and absolute hierarchy, Islamic teachings emphasize interdependence between genders, where both men and women contribute to the moral, social, and familial fabric of society. Viewing gender dynamics solely through the lens of oppression overlooks this relational balance and the nuanced roles assigned to each within different cultural and historical contexts.

Conclusion

Mernissi’s work remains foundational in Islamic feminist discourse, offering critical insights into the intersection of gender, religion, and power. However, despite her significant criticism of modernity and capitalism, Mernissi’s tacit idea of women’s liberation implies a superiority of both modernity and secular values. In this sense, Muslim women’s agency means resisting tradition, with historical instances of such resistance seen as rare, celebrated forms of ‘feminism’. Under this paradigm, Islamic feminism speaks mainly as an act of translating the presumably oppressed Muslim women to a Western audience. This complicates the existing tension and contradiction between Islamic feminism and Islamic tradition. Frantz Fanon sums this about Algerian women during the French colonial campaign to ‘liberate’ veiled women from their ‘oppressive Islam’: “this woman, who sees without being seen, frustrates the colonizer.”¹² Rather than viewing Islamic feminism as inherently oppositional to tradition, future scholarship should explore how feminist critiques can emerge from within Islamic epistemology while critically engaging with Western feminist paradigms. Building on Mernissi’s legacy, Islamic feminism must resist the urge to ‘liberate’ Muslim women merely for visibility and individual recognition. Equally important is the collective responsibility of both Muslim women and men to transform the transnational ummah, striving for justice and resisting the forces that shackle our Islamic faith under new forms of colonialism and oppression.

---

Disclaimer: Material published by Traversing Tradition is meant to foster scholarly inquiry and rich discussion. The views, opinions, beliefs, or strategies represented in published articles and subsequent comments do not necessarily represent the views of Traversing Tradition or any employee thereof.

1. Cooke, Miriam. 2000. “Multiple Critique: Islamic Feminist Rhetorical Strategies.” Nepantla: Views from South 1 (1): 91-110. [↩]
2. Cooke, Miriam. 2001. Women Claim Islam: Creating islamic Feminism through Literature. Routledge. [↩]
3. Badran, Margot. 2009. Feminism in Islam: Secular and Religious Convergences. Oneworld. [↩]
4. Mernissi, Fatima. 2003. Beyond the Veil: Male-Female Dynamics in Muslim Society. Saqi Books. [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩]
5. Mernissi, Fatima. 1991. Women and Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry. Basil Blackwell. [↩]
6. Mernissi, Fatima. 1996. Women’s Rebellion and Islamic Memory. Zed Books. [↩]
7. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. 2000. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton University Press. [↩] [↩]
8. Murad, Abdal Hakim. 1999. “Islam, Irigaray, and the retrieval of gender.” Masud. April. Accessed November 9, 2024. http://masud.co.uk/ISLAM/ahm/gender.htm. [↩]
9. Peletz, Michael G. 1996. Reason and Passion: Representations of Gender in a Malay Society. University of California Press. [↩]
10. Thompson, Eric C. 2024. The Story of Southeast Asia. NUS Press. [↩]
11. Keeler, Ahmed Paul. 2019. Rethinking Islam and the West: A New Narrative for the Age of Crises. Equilibra. [↩] [↩]
12. Fanon, Frantz. 2003. “Algeria Unveiled.” In Decolonization: perspective from now and then, by Prasenjit Duara (ed.), 42-55. Routledge. [↩]