What Does It Mean to Be a Muslim Writer?

"What does it mean to be a Muslim writer?" “Isn’t that also rebellion?” asks Hanif Abdurraqib, in a sustained elegy to black men and women killed by police. “To stare into the horizon and not see a funeral?” Bänoo Zan places her 2016 poetry collection, Songs of Exile, within a global literary tradition “of loss and longing.” Yusuf Saadi addresses a love sonnet to light itself: “Know I love the way you warm my fingers, / And pour gilt on my hardwood floors.” Doyali Islam finely weaves a spiritual lineage of multiple delicate strands: “I am Ishmael’s progeny, or Isaac’s –– no matter.” And in her poem “Most Wanted,” Mohja Kahf warns: “God is on the loose. / Henceforth beware: / You may find God in heathen beauty … You may have to behave / as if each human being / could reflect God’s Face.”These poets evoke lived experiences both within and without the scope of a Muslim identity, sometimes in a deliberately plain vernacular, sometimes with inherited languages and traditions of the sacred; with fugitive subtlety or with the bold authority of prophets. Does that make their work “Muslim” writing? In 2019, The Puritan will publish a special supplementary issue edited by guest editor Rahat Kurd, to ask the question: “What does it mean to be a Muslim writer?”For this issue, The Puritan invites original and previously unpublished poetry submissions in English from both established and emerging writers who identify as Muslim, as well as original translations into English. We seek poetry whose focus on craft makes a compelling stand against the monolith of identity, whether chosen or inherited, illuminating and enriching a wide range of subjects and forms. Submissions are open via our submissions page until November 1st, 2018.