The new face of Islam
Certainly Karen Allen, a 28-year-old scheduler for Sky TV from Stoke Newington, has enjoyed a relatively smooth transition period. She converted to Islam last June and soon started wearing the traditional headscarf or hijab. 'When I first started wearing the hijab to work, there were a few jibes about Afghanistan and stuff, but people are fine now. They say things like: "That's a nice one you're wearing today."
'I think it might be more difficult outside London, but here there are a lot weirder things to look at than me.'
What is especially striking about this stream of converts to Islam is that the majority seem to be women. Some suggest that twice as many women as men are turning to Islam.
Batool Al Toma, who heads the New Muslim Project at the Leicester-based Islamic Foundation, which offers advice and support to recent converts, suggests this might be exaggeration, but admits that female converts are in the majority. 'A lot of people seem to think that women are more susceptible to Islam. I think it's largely because a lot of people are obsessed with the idea of an educated, liberated British woman converting to Islam which they feel subjugates and represses them in some way. We just get a lot more attention I suppose and that sparks people's interest.'
The lure of Islam for women is surprising, given that the conversion process may be even more problematic for them than for men. There is the commonly held belief that Islam represses women and female converts often have to deal with recrimination from female friends who view their adoption of Islam as some sort of betrayal. The wearing of a headscarf or hijab (a sartorial option, it should be noted, not a requirement[2]) also makes Muslim women more visible than their male counterparts.
Certainly, all the women I spoke to were quick to refute the idea that Islam imposes a women-know-thy-place ideology.
'The perception of how women are treated is completely incorrect,' insists Caroline. 'Women have a fantastic position in Islamic society.'
Indeed, many women converts talk about the adoption of the Islamic dress code as a liberation. They see it not as a denial of sex and sexuality but rather as an acknowledgement that these are treasures to be shared with a loved one and them alone. They are not hidden but rather freed from objectification.
Asya insists that the trick is to turn preconceptions on their head. She wears a scarf to show she is a Muslim and a smile to prove she is happy being one.
One problem for converts is that they are caught between two cultures. 'Young Muslims are very accepting,' says Caroline. 'They are really happy that you have chosen to become Muslim. The older generation are not so accepting. For them, Islam is part of their cultural background, it's about the country they came from and it's what binds their communities together.'
One step towards greater acceptance came last October when Reedah Nijabat opened ArRum, an Islamic restaurant/members' bar/ cultural centre/social club in Clerkenwell. Nijabat, a 31-year-old former barrister and management consultant from Walthamstow, originally conceived ArRum as a meeting place and networking venue for professional first- and second-generation London Muslims. But it has also become a focal point for many of London's Muslim converts.
It is easy to see why. On any work evening, a mixed bag of middle-aged Pakistani men, young couples (some Muslim, some curious non-Muslim), kids and white British converts chat and tuck into halal 'fusion' food. While the club promotes Islamic culture, the vibe is a Hempel temple of inner calm. Sufi wailing calms the nerves, while the bar specialises in healthy juices.
For the new converts I spoke to, ArRum is a place to meet other Muslims and somewhere to bring non-Muslim friends and introduce them to Islam in a way that doesn't scare them.
ArRum accents Islam's USP among the major faiths: its openness and lack of hierarchy. And Nijabat has realised that if there is an endemic suspicion of stuffy organised religion among the British (and increasingly, one suspects, second-generation British Muslims) there is great interest in 'spirituality', whatever that might mean.
'I think that the problem has not been with the substance of the major faiths, whatever they are, but a marketing defect,' argues Nijabat. 'Everything we do here is about remembrance of God and Islam, but you can get that across in a cool way. I'm not saying anything that isn't in the Koran, but you have to talk to people on their level.
'I'm beginning to see that there is a huge misunderstanding and a bridge that needs to be crossed between ethnic communities, host communities and spiritual communities, and I think we are making a contribution to that. You can get so hung up on the divisions and how different we are, but it is the same God for all of us. And we still feel that loss whether it is an American life or a Palestinian life. A lot of people are going through a period of soul-searching and that can only be a good thing.'
For many, that soul-searching has led them to Islam, not the Islam of the suicide bombers but mainstream Islam. And, as Joe Ahmed Dobson points out, ArRum and its new converts do not represent some kind of liberal IslamLite, a media-friendly dilution of the real thing. Dobson and the other new converts are orthodox, in the truest sense, and proud.
They are also part of a project that may help all parties see Islam in new ways. As Nijabat admits: 'You can end up being quite defensive about it. And you can either get hung up about it or be proactive. Opening ArRum has helped me recognise that I can be British and Pakistani and a Muslim and a woman. And I'm not going to be a victim in any of this.'