In this month's Inspiring Sakhi series, we feature Robina Niaz, a previous Sakhi Board member and Founder of Turning Point for Women and Families. Robina has been a source of great inspiration and support to Sakhi, and survivors of domestic violence. 

I migrated to New York in 1990, after getting married and came into a situation I did not expect or anticipate. My ex-husband was a dishonest man who lied to me about many aspects of his life. 

  

I experienced tremendous emotional, psychological, verbal and financial abuse. During and after my marriage I faced many challenges and it took a long time for me to sort my life out.

  

I was largely on my own as I tried to find legal resources and access my rights. I had hired a lawyer who turned out to be abusive as well. Instead of helping me achieve my goals, he tried to push me into a settlement with my ex-husband that would benefit him, not me. During this time I met one of Sakhi's board members, an attorney. 

 

I volunteered my time, shared my story and challenges I faced and the lessons I had learned. By sharing my story, I hoped to reassure other women that they were not alone and there was light at the end of the tunnel.

 

I often wondered that if I, who had a graduate degree, a decade of work and travel experience, fluency in English and unconditional family support (even though they were in Pakistan), faced so many challenges how difficult it must be for women who didn't have these advantages.  

  

This realization was a turning point for me.

 

My work was cut out for me and I got started right away.  I took up at an entry-level job at Victims Services (now Safe Horizon), got trained in domestic violence and immigration counseling and rape crisis intervention. With a full time job I continued to volunteer at Sakhi and joined its board in 1994. I continued to volunteer with Sakhi for 12 years.

 

As a Sakhi volunteer in 1994, I accompanied a woman to her court hearing. She was a Sikh woman who had been hit by her husband while she was holding her infant son. After being hit, she fell to the ground with her son. Hearing her screams, her neighbors called 911. Doctors found that the baby had a hairline skull fracture. Accused of not being able to protect him, her son was being taken away.

 

As I waited with her in the courtroom she pointed out her abuser who was chatting with another Indian man.  Since her court appointed attorney did not speak Punjabi and the woman did not speak any English, I asked for permission to accompany her at the hearing. I was given permission, on the condition that I would not speak and remain an observer. When the hearing started, I noticed that the man the abuser was chatting with, was the court-appointed interpreter. He interpreted everything the abuser said correctly, but when the woman spoke he told the judge what he felt she ought to be saying. The only person in the courtroom other than the abuser who understood what was going on was me. I was outraged! 

 

I realized the woman would not get any justice if the judge didn't know the truth, so I spoke up. I requested that the hearing be adjourned, and explained the injustice that was happening. After hearing me, the judge agreed to the adjournment. When I came out of the judge's office, the interpreter - who had been waiting outside - threatened me. I was really terrified. This experience generated a lot of conversation at Sakhi, and was what started Sakhi's Court Interpreters Campaign. 

In 1997, I left Sakhi's board to pursue a graduate degree in Social Work at Hunter College. I continued to work full time in the area of domestic violence area, and served on many other boards. In 2000, as Prema Vora, then Executive Director of Sakhi was stepping down, I was asked to step in. At that time, I was not ready to take on such a big responsibility, and so I declined.

 

Then it was 2001, and the 9/11 attacks changed everything in NYC. There was so much fear and mistrust in the air, and it was hard to ignore the fact that people were judging you simply because you were Muslim.

 

A few days after the attacks, I was with my friend Sunita Viswanath agonizing over the backlash on Muslims and how painful it was.  As we brainstormed together Sunita challenged me by asking "why are Muslims not saying anything?" I remember feeling helpless and insisting that Muslim leaders were indeed saying a lot but the media was not reporting it.  I wanted to do something about that.

 

 

After being laid off from my job for the second time in two years, I decided to step back to figure out my next steps.  I knew that our community was severly under-resourced, and as we struggled to find our feet in the aftermath of 9/11, I knew that women and girls - trapped and lost in the confusion, needed unique and tailored support.

 

In December 2004, I founded Turning Point for Women and Families - to create a safe space for Muslim women and girls and offer them the services and support they needed.

 

I am often asked what I mean by jihad. My answer is simple. Jihad is my own daily inner struggle to overcome my nafs (ego) and be the best human being I can be. There is a verse in the Q'uran, in which Allah says, "I do not place on you a burden heavier than you can carry." Now, when I look back on how my life has evolved, I feel grateful for the marriage that didn't work out. Allah had chosen a different path for me and I found my calling through the challenges that came my way.

 

Last year, I fractured my foot, and the process of healing has been slow. I take this as a reminder of my dispensability. I know that I have to pass my work and role on to someone younger who can take this work forward.  At Turning Point, we focus on cultivating the leadership of young Muslim women. In this way, I do what I can, and trust that the rest will play out as it is meant to.