TWM Flashback: Girls, God & Goddesses

In the wake of the recent tragic events at the Sikh temple in Wisconsin and mosque fire in Missouri, we got to thinking about the role of interfaith dialogue in the world today, which is one of The Women's Mosaic's core focus areas.

We thought we'd share these excerpts from our May 2006 Girls, God & Goddesses: Women's Relationship to Religion and Spirituality Panel Discussion, including an introduction and clips of our Sikh and Muslim panelists speaking about the role of faith in their lives.

The Girls, God & Goddesses event was extremely successful and meaningful to those who attended. At the time, the effects of 9/11--including prevalent negative stereotypes about Islam, Sikhism, and other non-Christian religions--were being felt very strongly throughout the country.

Today, it seems, these stereotypes remain active in some corners of the nation. And it seems that there is always someone willing to commit irrational violence for the sake of religion. TWM's answer to these tragic truths about our world is to keep the conversation going. Interfaith dialogue, communication, honest questioning, and openness lead to better informed communities and individuals, and, we believe, a more peaceful world.

Post 911 America, Warts And All*

This piece was originally posted on July 6, 2011. It is being re-posted as part of our CHICKS ROCK! Summer Retrospective, during which we will post a combination of new content and posts from the past. Enjoy!

The United States of America has always had its critics. After the second Iraq War began in 2002, global criticism of the country grew considerably. It was a tricky time; if an American criticized the war, that person was considered unpatriotic. I even heard some people in the media saying that anyone critical against the military efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan should leave the country for good. I was critical of the second Iraq War, but as a sister of a U.S. army officer, I am completely on the side of the troops who were and still are deployed overseas. I found the attacks on people who openly criticized the war to be similar to witch hunts, only there would be no literal burnings at the stake.

Even though I am not a Muslim or an Arab, I was told by a family member that our last name implies that we could be one or both. He also claimed that we were facing bias because of it in the workplace. I personally never felt this, and refused to succumb to pressure to change my last name in the new Post-9/11 America. After all, Sikhs were being attacked because of their turbans, and they are not Arabs or connected to the Muslim religion. These attacks really had to do with xenophobia, which is an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners and anything foreign. When I heard about the murder of a Sikh man mistaken for an Arab on September 15, 2001, I remembered reading that the murderer was ignorant and xenophobic to begin with. After 9/11, he decided to unleash his hatred as a form of vigilante justice on those who did not look right to him.

As I celebrate the America’s birthday this week, I am reminded of our continuing struggles for freedom and against bigotry. I am proud that as an American, I can openly support and criticize my country without fear of imprisonment. Difficult times, such as those faced after 9/11, remind me that we should NEVER take our freedoms for granted.

The Mystery of Faith

I've been thinking a lot about religion and faith lately. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this post, other than to say, it's something I'm thinking about. I was raised Presbyterian, and I've continued to participate in Christian life in various forms and fashions over the years. I belong to a church here in NYC, and I've become very involved there in the past decade.

Lately, I feel myself growing tired of some of the trappings of church life, and particularly some of the pretenses of myself that I feel I must maintain when I go there. I enjoy and value the community of friends I've made, but when at times I feel I don't actually share some of the fundamental belief system it is all built on, I wonder if I am building community under false pretenses?

I've never claimed to be a great Christian; I would shudder away from calling myself "devout" or "faithful" or anything even close to that. I do believe in God, but the true nature of the God I believe in is a very great mystery to me, and sometimes I think church goes too far in trying to explain God and what God's all about. What God would want me to be, or to do, and how God participates in the world.

We don't know. We can't know. And while I'm awed by that mystery and while it does lead me toward faith (of a fashion), I'm also bothered by the ways we try to rationalize God. When I think of all the destruction--socially, politically, interpersonally--that adherence to religious doctrines has caused around the world, it makes me ache because all of these rules of faith that we seem so willing to kill and die for are human-made. We might seek to worship God, but religion itself is a human construct, an answer to questions that every society has wrestled with over centuries--and ultimately answered in its own way.

Why are we so sure that we're right? More importantly, why are we so afraid to be wrong? In my own faith journey, I've always found that the greater power lies in the questions, rather than the answers. I know there are a lot of people out there like me, not so sure of things and just trying to figure it all out.

This week, I read an essay--a sermon, actually--that a friend and colleague of mine wrote about the similarities between being a person of faith and being a writer. She talks about the intangible sense of having something to express, and the struggle of trying to capture it all, and the need for constant review, reflection and revision. (The essay is posted on her website, here.) It was like placing a mirror to my own struggle, and it made me go "Ah!" I read her words, and I instantly felt more comfortable, more confident in my personal (awkward) process of faith, and more comforted than I had felt in a very long time. I have no trouble seeing a little bit of God in that.

Truth Behind A Resignation

My mother’s former church made the local news this month. The former choir director, who happens to be a gay man, resigned after working there for decades because a new priest made homophobic remarks to him in private. As someone with some firsthand knowledge of the situation, I can read uninformed, bigoted comments posted to the articles about this story and easily shake off my annoyance, because I know they have no idea what they are talking about.

The former choir director also taught at the Catholic high school I attended. I never took any of his classes, but I was told by some of my classmates that he was very tough and unyielding with his students. I also attended church reluctantly every Sunday, where I saw him lead the choir with confidence. He was one of the main attractions to the church, so much so that I believe most people who came to church were looking forward more to the music than to what any of the priests had to say. This is just my assumption, of course; I always felt like an outsider to the Catholic community I was surrounded by, and found the music performed at the church to be less than inspiring. There was skill and talent behind it, but I was never moved.

What angers me about my former church is how disrespectful they became. The former choir director was a fixture at the church, and the Franciscan priests appeared to be as respectful of him as he was to them. Since the church’s transfer out of the Franciscan order into another Archdiocese this summer, things changed considerably. The new priest’s openly homophobic, aggressive demeanor put off more than just the former choir director; my mother transferred to another church because of it. Attendance is already dwindling, so this could mean the end of the church. If that is how it has to be, then so be it. I believe that if this church continues on this path, the constant alienation will lead to its downfall.

Post 911 America, Warts And All

The United States of America has always had its critics. After the second Iraq War began in 2002, global criticism of the country grew considerably. It was a tricky time; if an American criticized the war, that person was considered unpatriotic. I even heard some people in the media saying that anyone critical against the military efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan should leave the country for good. I was critical of the second Iraq War, but as a sister of a U.S. army officer, I am completely on the side of the troops who were and still are deployed overseas. I found the attacks on people who openly criticized the war to be similar to witch hunts, only there would be no literal burnings at the stake.

Even though I am not a Muslim or an Arab, I was told by a family member that our last name implies that we could be one or both. He also claimed that we were facing bias because of it in the workplace. I personally never felt this, and refused to succumb to pressure to change my last name in the new Post-9/11 America. After all, Sikhs were being attacked because of their turbans, and they are not Arabs or connected to the Muslim religion. These attacks really had to do with xenophobia, which is an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners and anything foreign. When I heard about the murder of a Sikh man mistaken for an Arab on September 15, 2001, I remembered reading that the murderer was ignorant and xenophobic to begin with. After 9/11, he decided to unleash his hatred as a form of vigilante justice on those who did not look right to him.

As I celebrate the America’s birthday this week, I am reminded of our continuing struggles for freedom and against bigotry. I am proud that as an American, I can openly support and criticize my country without fear of imprisonment. Difficult times, such as those faced after 9/11, remind me that we should NEVER take our freedoms for granted.

Understanding May 1, 2011

What a difference a few days make! Last week the news was all about Libya, Syria, the debate over President Obama’s birth certificate, and the British royal wedding. This changed irrevocably on Sunday night, when I along with many other people turned on their televisions and computers to discover the news that a certain terrorist everyone has been looking and wondering about for almost ten years was shot and killed in the special operatives’ raid in Pakistan. This too shall pass of course, but for now it is the number one story out there. The architect of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and so much more was exposed and has been silenced forever. Now I cannot help but wonder what is coming next for us as a country and as human beings.

I was shocked with everyone else by the news that they actually found the man in question, living in a comfortable fortress of surrounded by pastoral splendor and just a short distance away from a military training facility. While the house didn’t impress me at all, the areas were quite lovely, and reminded me of areas in my parents’ native India, and where my cousin lives in Indonesia. I am used to seeing high walls, but not fortress-sized windows and doors with barbed wire to boot.

I do recall my cousin’s neighbors’ housekeeping staff never being allowed to speak to anyone or leave their boss’s homes, not even for the Ramadan holiday. I realized this was not right immediately, but there was nothing I could do about it. I saw the policemen receiving bribes everyday from employees of the first Indonesian schools; I worked with some of them there, so I knew that local police would be the least likely to do much (if anything) to respond and remedy the situation for them. In other words, I understand why Bin Laden’s unknowing neighbors had no idea who he was. Of course, Pakistan’s military and intelligence organizations have some serious explaining to do.

What are your thought about this past weekend?

Giving It Up For Lent

I was born and raised Roman Catholic, but I no longer practice the religion. I identify myself as a Christian nonetheless, with certain Catholic tendencies. These flare up considerably just before and during the season of Lent; I have a tendency to want to give something up in preparation for Easter. I fail more than I succeed, but every year I still hope to successfully abstain from something I do often but don’t need to do for forty days.

In the past, I have given up sweets (although to be honest I rarely eat them), all animal products, and eating take out; this year, I am giving up watching all television. Even though I don’t own a television, I find myself watching television programs online or renting television program series from the library or my local Blockbuster.

I don’t think my need to abstain from a guilty pleasure is due to Catholic guilt; instead, I think more people should do something similar to this regardless of their religious and/or spiritual affiliations because it helps in all sorts of life transitions. Personally, I feel that it helps with my transition from a particularly harsh winter, where I found myself sequestered indoors, to the spring and summer seasons, where I hope to be outside more often than not. Television is an indoor activity that has the tendency to isolate people from one another if done too much, and even a non-addict like me can see its negative effects in my own life.

So now that the season of Lent has begun, and I look forward to forty days without television and more books, I feel good knowing that I am doing it because I want to. It is a far cry from my Catholic school days, when I was forced to abstain from something to please the priests and religious educators who gave me little understanding or insight into Christianity as a whole. Because of this, the Lenten season means much more to me now than it ever did before.

Will you be giving up something for Lent?

Ignorance Still Prevails

It still amazes me how many Americans still look at the world through an “us versus them” lens. Aren’t we supposed to emphasize our personal freedoms? When I read recently that a sizable percentage of Americans believe that President Obama is a Muslim, I was shocked. I wonder sometimes if these people realize that we live in the 21st century. With opposition of the building of a mosque near the Ground Zero and news about a Christian pastor in Florida hosting the “International Burn a Koran Day” on September 11, 2010 polluting the news media, I am even more annoyed than ever. I personally like the division of church and state, and I will continue support it, even if fewer people around me do. Sure, the U.S. Constitution protects our right to protest, but can’t we be civil about it all?

I know there is a considerable percentage of us who know that extremist behavior and attitudes from any side usually leads to trouble, but there are also many who don’t know or don’t care about these consequences. Before coming up with the “International Burn a Koran Day,” the Floridian pastor was an unknown and obscure leader of a very small, non-denominational congregation. Now he is internationally infamous for concocting this upcoming publicity stunt. I really wish I never knew anything about this person or his extremist tactics. He seems to want more violence and conflict, and the sad thing is there are many people who agree with him.

I grew up believing that “two wrongs don’t make a right,” and I will continue to hold on to it. I remember knowing that there would be growing anti-Islamic sentiment after the 9/11 attacks happened, but I thought that as a nation we would have worked through some of these feelings and put the tragic events in a proper perspective by now. In retrospect, I realize I was naive to think that way. The years go by, but the scar remains; we will need more time and patience before more progress is made.

The Little Leaps*

The following was originally posted on Sep. 21, 2009. It is being re-posted as part of our CHICKS ROCK! Holiday series.


I stumbled upon a magazine feature in which celebrities responded to questions about faith. They each offered sound bites about a spiritual experience, or moment when faith came alive for them. I was intrigued by this conversation, as it’s something that’s often on my mind. I hear many practitioners of religion say that faith is about trusting in something that cannot be seen or proven. Yet, somehow that unproveable, intangible thing must be felt, right? Otherwise, how do we, as people, keep throwing ourselves toward beliefs that can’t be proven, and what is it that makes us feel that we’re believing in the right direction?

This quote from Faith Adiele, author of Meeting Faith: The Forest Journals of a Black Buddhist Nun, struck a chord with me. “Every time I act without knowing the outcome, with the risk of failure looming before me, I try to see that as a spiritual moment. Every time I transcend my limitations or touch something larger than myself: one step closer.”

I never articulated it this way, but lately I’m making such acts all the time. Leaving a steady job to pursue writing, sticking with it despite the bleak economy, writing what I care about over what will earn the most. I recently commented to a friend that I feel validated in this pursuit when the world answers me in small ways, whether it be a good review, or a letter from a reader, or an invitation to speak. Sometimes I need those small tokens of approval to know I’m on the right track. But my friend seemed distressed by this, saying that I shouldn’t need to be validated by the outside world, as long as I know in my heart that I’m doing what I love. Conceptually, that sounded right to me, and I worried about it. Do I not have enough faith in myself?

In reality, though, every time I take one of these little leaps I am putting faith in myself, but also in God or the universe or the world around me, to catch me before I fall.

The Little Leaps

I stumbled upon a magazine feature in which celebrities responded to questions about faith. They each offered sound bites about a spiritual experience, or moment when faith came alive for them. I was intrigued by this conversation, as it’s something that’s often on my mind. I hear many practitioners of religion say that faith is about trusting in something that cannot be seen or proven. Yet, somehow that unproveable, intangible thing must be felt, right? Otherwise, how do we, as people, keep throwing ourselves toward beliefs that can’t be proven, and what is it that makes us feel that we’re believing in the right direction?

This quote from Faith Adiele, author of Meeting Faith: The Forest Journals of a Black Buddhist Nun, struck a chord with me. “Every time I act without knowing the outcome, with the risk of failure looming before me, I try to see that as a spiritual moment. Every time I transcend my limitations or touch something larger than myself: one step closer.”

I never articulated it this way, but lately I’m making such acts all the time. Leaving a steady job to pursue writing, sticking with it despite the bleak economy, writing what I care about over what will earn the most. I recently commented to a friend that I feel validated in this pursuit when the world answers me in small ways, whether it be a good review, or a letter from a reader, or an invitation to speak. Sometimes I need those small tokens of approval to know I’m on the right track. But my friend seemed distressed by this, saying that I shouldn’t need to be validated by the outside world, as long as I know in my heart that I’m doing what I love. Conceptually, that sounded right to me, and I worried about it. Do I not have enough faith in myself?

In reality, though, every time I take one of these little leaps I am putting faith in myself, but also in God or the universe or the world around me, to catch me before I fall.

Thoughts About Obama's Muslim Speech

Like many others, I was looking forward to President Obama’s speech to Muslims last week. It is safe to say that the words were long overdue, at least according to the global community. When I finally heard the speech, I was surprised at how some of his personal experiences with Islam mirrored my own.

After the tragedies of September 11, 2001, I remember the mistrust and hatred towards Muslims and Sikhs that came forth, so much so that I was warned to be careful because of my Pakistani-sounding last name and dark skin. I would not allow myself to worry about it; I am the daughter of Roman Catholic parents from South India, and they descended from generations of Christians that date back several centuries. I knew that I had nothing to prove to anyone, especially those who are ignorant. I even told people who were concerned for me (and for themselves) that it was absolutely wrong to condemn all Muslims for the horrific acts committed by extremists. It was great to hear these similar sentiments expressed by President Barack Hussein Obama in his landmark speech given in Cairo, Egypt.

While I have heard criticisms from people who have their own strong opinions about the relationship between Islam and the West, I related to the personal experiences the President infused in his speech, especially when he mentioned his time in Indonesia, the most populous Muslim country in the world. I, too, heard “the call of the azaan” everyday. I also wore a jilbab when visiting my friend at a Muslim school in Jakarta during Lebaran, with no complaints. The friends I made were Christian and Muslim, and they respected me as much as I respected them, regardless of our different religious affiliations. While family and friends in America worried about me living in a predominantly Muslim country, I assured them that the only things I feared were Indonesia’s lackluster health care system, and its capital city’s terrible traffic and pollution.

What are your thoughts on President Obama’s speech to Muslims?

When Tragedy Strikes

Dealing with events like a sudden death, illness, accident, etc., never gets easy. When I was recently informed of a tragedy that affected someone I care about, I initially felt lost, overwhelmed and greatly saddened. I listened, gave my condolences and tentative advice, and cried over what happened, all of which has helped me greatly. Still, these questions remain: How do I make sense of something that makes no sense at all? How do I help those who are suffering the most?

It often happens when we least expect it. When I hear, experience or witness something terrible (which thankfully isn’t that often) I am in a state of disbelief and shock that eventually subsides, so I can begin dealing with what has happened. I have also observed that when tragedy strikes, we as human beings show our true selves and individual strengths in ways we may never have before. Tragedy strikes us all, and it is up to us to learn from it, and to hopefully move on with the rest of our lives. I know this is easier said than done; we all want to know why bad things happen, and all religions and spiritual beliefs give us different philosophies on the subject. Ultimately, I believe that that there are things we are not meant to understand completely, but I have faith in a benevolent force that is with always with us, especially during the darkest periods of our lives.

As for how we can help others during difficult times, I try to be a good listener, without resorting to giving out unsolicited advice. When people are in mourning, I also avoid saying things like “it was meant to be” or “it is God’s will,” because these are not statements I want to hear if I am in a similar situation. It may be fine to mention it, but to be insistent on the subject can be too much. Ultimately, we must treat those who grieve as carefully and respectfully as possible.

How do handle tragedy in your own lives? How do you help others?

Religious or Spiritual?

In a sermon preached at my church once, the minister commented rather snidely about people who call themselves “spiritual but not religious.” He seemed to be saying that to label oneself simply “spiritual” is a serious cop-out, and that without the discipline of a structured belief system, it wasn’t possible to have a true faith.

His comments were phrased in such a matter-of-fact, offhand way that it was clear he thought he was preaching to the choir – after all, everyone listening had dragged themselves out of bed on Sunday morning to come to church, and what better evidence of religious discipline is there? Ahem. Well, I, for one, was rather irritated by his words. Despite the fact that I’m fairly active in my church, I don’t actually consider myself to be terribly religious. That probably sounds a little weird.

In my mind, religion is merely a concrete belief structure, complete with things like rules and creeds and holy texts and worship of a higher power. Spirituality, on the other hand, I experience as a connection to something larger than myself, even when what that larger thing is remains mysterious. An effective and meaningful religious practice, of course, will have spirituality behind it, but I don’t ever feel that I’m striving to be better at my religion. What I am striving for is spiritual connection, and for me that does not solely come out of religious practices per se.

If I want to think of myself as spiritual, not religious, what’s the big deal? I suppose this is one of those chicken or egg issues: Is all spirituality that I feel somehow based in my religion? Does it rise up in spite of it? Do I accept the idea of religion only because I feel something spiritual? The only thing I know for sure is that, within me, the two are not one and the same.

I’m curious whether this is something other people struggle with or if these definitions come naturally to everyone else.

Would you call yourself spiritual or religious, or neither, or both?

My Commitment to Compassionate Leadership

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to have Kristina back as a guest blogger this week:

Kristina Leonardi is the founder of The Women’s Mosaic. She is a career/life path consultant, speaker, seminar leader and expert in the areas of women, diversity and personal growth.


Last week I attended a very special panel discussion that reinforced for me what we’re doing at TWM: encouraging women to practice compassion in their lives, and to discover and embrace our commonalities and differences. These are qualities of true leadership.

The event was sponsored by NYU and consisted of:

"Her Majesty Queen Noor of Jordan, provocative religious leader and respected spiritual iconoclast Rabbi Irwin Kula, and the Sakyong, Jamgön Mipham Rinpoche, one of Tibet's highest and most respected incarnate lamas, to participate in a groundbreaking, open discussion on the power and practice of compassionate leadership."

These were people who ‘spoke my language.’ They made me feel I’m not alone in my perceptions about how to best make fundamental change at this critical time in our history.

I initially went because of my admiration of HM Queen Noor, specifically the work for peace in the Middle East she and her late husband, the esteemed King Hussein of Jordan, dedicated their lives to. She is committed to building bridges among the Arab, Muslim and Western worlds, and knows the similarities, uniqueness and nuances of the world’s major religions. This is something you often don’t hear expressed from such a platform, yet it’s so important for fostering understanding among us.

She is one of those people I feel a certain kinship with, in terms of her perspective on peace, faith and cross-cultural understanding. Listening to her solidified my connection with her (on whatever level you can have that with such an eminent figure!). I was thrilled and honored to meet Queen Noor in person – and impressed and inspired by Rabbi Kula and the Sakyong Rinpoche as well.

Personally, it was exactly what I needed – a refreshing dialogue with a reasonable, humanistic, forward-thinking, positive worldview that re-affirmed my commitment to what I started with The Women’s Mosaic. It validated our mission and re-energized me to persevere, regardless of the many challenges and personal sacrifices that come with founding and, more importantly, trying to sustain a nonprofit organization such as ours.

As we are in the home stretch of this intense political season, it is my wish that our elected officials be the compassionate leaders we so desperately need, but also that we each take responsibility for that type of leadership in our own lives.

You can download and watch the webcast of the event here. Please be sure to share your thoughts on the video and on compassionate leadership in the comments!