Progressive Muslims Launch Gay-Friendly, Women-Led Mosques In Attempt To Reform American Islam          
            
            The Muslims for Progressive Values mosque in Washington, D.C., hosts  mixed-gender, woman-led prayers on Eid al-Adha, an important Islamic  holiday, in 2010.    
   At first, the devout Muslims who gathered in a  Washington, D.C., conference center seemed like they could have come  from any mosque. There were women in headscarves and bearded men who  quoted the Quran. 
But something was different. While mingling over hors d'oeuvres, they  discussed how to change Islam's future.  A woman spoke about fighting  terrorism; she had married outside the Islamic faith, which is forbidden  for a Muslim woman. A Pakistani man mentioned his plans to meet friends  for drinks, despite the faith's ban on alcohol. 
In a corner of the room, an imam in a long gray tunic counseled a  young Muslim with a vexing spiritual conflict: being gay and Muslim. The  imam, also gay and in a relationship, could easily sympathize with the  youth's difficulties. 
On this brisk Monday night in late October, members of Muslims for  Progressive Values, a nascent American reformist organization, had  gathered from around the country to celebrate a milestone: In four  years, the group had grown from a few friends to a thousand members and  spawned a string of small mosques and spiritual groups that stretched  from Atlanta to Los Angeles.
Today, as America's Muslim leaders debate controversial topics like  political radicalism inside mosques and states' attempts to ban 
Shariah law, this growing network of alternative mosques and Islamic groups is quietly forging a new spiritual movement. 
They're taking bold steps, reinterpreting Islamic norms and  re-examining taboos. While far from accepted by mainstream clerics,  these worshippers feel that the future of the religion lies not solely  with tradition but with them. Women are leading congregations in prayer,  gay imams are performing Islamic marriages, and men and women are  praying side by side.
This is not the norm for most of the 2.6 million-strong American  Islamic community, accustomed to centuries-old traditions of gender  relations and houses of worship that tend to draw primarily from a  single ethnic group. 
"We can't move forward as a society, as a faith system, if we subscribe  to these old draconian ways of practicing Islam," says Ani Zonneveld,  who is the president of Muslims for Progressive Values. A 49-year-old  singer-songwriter who lives in Los Angeles, she leads prayers for men  and women together and tells gay Muslims, often shunned in other  mosques, that their religion welcomes them.
This soft-spoken Malaysian-American who sports a crop cut with blond  streaks is one of a small but burgeoning cadre of Islamic reformers in  the United States, both within her group and outside it. Their causes  range from fighting radicalization and educating young people to  building interfaith bridges and protecting women's rights. Over the  years, leaders in the Muslim community have addressed changing needs,  from building new mosques to defending civil rights when unfamiliar  spiritual practices resulted in discrimination. But this new movement is  a radical departure.
"What's taking place in Islam in America right now is what happened  before in other religions," says John Esposito, a professor of Islamic  studies at Georgetown University.   
A few denominations within Judaism and Christianity have openly welcomed  gay people and women, Esposito points out. Some Reform,  Reconstructionist and Conservative Jewish communities are led by gay and  women rabbis. The Presbyterian Church, United Church of Christ, the  Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and the Episcopal Church allow  gay and women clergy. The United Methodist Church ordains women.  
Mosques in America, however, usually are Sunni or Shiite; they differ  in how they interpret Islamic law. Still other mosques combine Sunnis  and Shiites under one roof. But as far as the open participation of gay  people or leadership by women imams, most mosques are much the same: It  doesn't happen. Some Sufi mosques, which follow mystical traditions,  welcome gay Muslims, though their numbers are sparse in the United  States.
Most Muslims rarely attend mosques outside of major holidays although  the Quran commands men to pray in a group every week. In a 
Pew survey  last year of 1,033 American Muslims, just under one-half said they  attend a mosque once a week. Many said they worship on their own or  seldom. A majority of Muslims surveyed think the religion is flexible,  with only about a third saying there is but one true way to interpret  it.  
That kind of view is becoming common among Muslims, according to  Esposito, as more people try to separate what's in the Quran from  cultural traditions. "They say if we don't see anything clear in our  scripture, then that trumps tradition. And people are applying that to  women's issues and gay issues."
It's among this segment of believers that the progressives are trying  to make their mark. With regular prayer meetings in several cities,  salons on theology, a children's Islamic educational camp and a series  of printed 
adaptations of Quranic scholarship  on issues such as homosexuality, Muslims for Progressive Values aims to  fashion a new version of the ancient faith, one that members assert is  truer to Islam's origins. 
There's a long road ahead. While the total number of mosques in America 
 has climbed 74 percent over the past decade,  to more than 2,100, Muslims for Progressive Values has a significant  presence in only a dozen cities, including Atlanta, Philadelphia and  Washington, D.C. The progressives' mosques are borrowed spaces:  community centers, homes and churches. There's a mosque in 
Toronto and a prayer group in Ottawa. The group keeps a directory of unaffiliated like-minded worship centers in smaller cities. 
But the progressive Muslims feel they have found momentum, Zonneveld says.
Born in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Zonneveld grew up in Germany, Egypt  and India as her father moved between stations as a Malaysian  ambassador. Her stay-at-home mom taught Zonneveld and her five siblings  the basics of Islam. The family read the Quran together in Arabic and  fasted from sunrise to sunset during the holy month of Ramadan. Mosques  were scarce in Germany, so her parents invited other Muslims to pray in  their home.  
After attending college in Illinois, Zonneveld moved to Los Angeles  with dreams of becoming a musician. That's where she met her husband, a  Dutch-born agnostic who now runs a grocery delivery company. They are  raising their daughter Jasmine, 14, as a Muslim.
For 20 years, Zonneveld worked behind the scenes in the music  industry, writing and composing songs. She kept her faith hidden at  work, though, out of fear that it would hurt her career. But everything  changed after Sept. 11.
The attacks by terrorists invoking Islam for a war against the West  had nothing to do with the religion Zonneveld knew. Imams appeared on  television with politicians to condemn violence. They echoed her views,  but she was put off. She had little in common with the bearded  middle-aged men on screen.
"The vast majority of American Muslims believe in an Islam that is so  different from the people that represent us," Zonneveld says. "It's  like if you had an Orthodox Jewish rabbi representing all American  Jews."
For the first time, Zonneveld put religion at the forefront of her music. Two years after the attacks, she released an album, 
"Ummah, Wake Up!"  The word ummah means "community" in Arabic. In the opening track, she  called for a new jihad. To her, that meant striving to be more merciful,  not taking up arms. Another track, "Bury Me," lamented what she saw as  the marginalized state of women in Islamic communities.
Her album didn't go over well. When Zonneveld applied to perform at  an Islamic music festival in Toronto, the event's organizers told her  that men are forbidden to hear women sing. Islamic retailers banned the  album. Prominent Muslims said Zonneveld was focusing too much on the bad  in Islam and not enough on the good.
Frustrated with the lack of outlets for her critiques, Zonneveld  helped found a group called the Progressive Muslim Union of North  America. The broad alliance of dozens of activists and academics  struggled and bickered over political beliefs and whether members wanted  to reform Islamic doctrine or simply alter social practices. The  two-year effort, largely academic, collapsed by 2006, never having  founded a mosque.
A year later, Zonneveld cofounded Muslims for Progressive Values,  which has enjoyed more tangible success. Its spiritual work has drawn  endorsements from well-known Muslim activists, scholars and politicians.
***  Most scholars agree that the Quran, which Muslims believe is the  written word of God, does not explicitly prohibit women from leading  prayers or gay people from taking leadership roles in Islam. The holy  book also does not forbid men and women to pray together. Yet, centuries  of scholarship on the Quran and the sunnah (the way the prophet lived  his life) have resulted in the prevailing view among Muslims worldwide  that prayer leaders should be male and that homosexual activity is a  sin.
To answer the question of whether women should lead prayers, records of  the prophet's life -- whose authenticity remains under dispute -- are  seized upon by people on all sides of the debate. Progressive scholars  say the prophet permitted women to lead prayers at any time. 
In three-quarters of American mosques, women gather in separate rooms  or behind partitions or curtains, according to the most recent mosque  study by the Council on American-Islamic Relations. The practice stems  from Quran, which says that men and women should maintain modest  relations. The Quran does not explicitly say the sexes must keep  separate.
People like Zonneveld say they take their cue from the early years of  Islam, when it was common for men and women to pray together. They  point to Mecca, the holy Islamic city where Muslims go on pilgrimage  every year and where men and women pray side by side.
There are parts of the Quran that condemn homosexual acts but their  interpretation is debated. Today, in at least seven majority-Muslim  countries, gay sex is punishable by death. Most 
opposition to homosexuality in Islam  stems from the Quran's story of Lot, which follows the Old Testament  story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Conservative clerics say Allah destroyed  these cities because men were having sex with men. Like liberal  Christians, progressive Muslims interpret this story to be one about 
condemnation of rape, not homosexuality.  
The idea of welcoming gay and lesbian Muslims as part of the Islamic  community is more recent, says Kecia Ali, an Islamic studies professor  at Boston University who researches sexuality and gender in the Quran.
"We have always had gay people in prayer [groups], but they have been  closeted," Ali says. "What's new is this idea that we are now thinking  why we are praying the way we are praying, why we are Muslim and who is  considered Muslim."  
***  On a recent Saturday afternoon, Zonneveld and other spiritual  activists gathered for one of Muslims for Progressive Values' biweekly  salons in Los Angeles around a living room table strewn with pamphlets  and books on Islamic law. Among those present were a Shiite from Iran, a  Sunni originally from Iowa who dabbles in Sufism, a Muslim convert and  an agnostic Palestinian. They were united by a question and a cause. 
"What is Shariah?" asked Zonneveld, referring to the Islamic code  that has been used to guide everything from rules for prayer and  marriage to deadly punishments for minor crimes in majority-Muslim  countries. As Muslims trying to establish a radically different Islam,  they asked, How could Shariah be used to their benefit?
The answer did not come easily.
"Shariah is how we live according to God's will for us," said Jamila  Ezzani, 28, an autism specialist who has been in the group for almost  two years. "It's an ideal to reach for."
"But it's good to know scripture and verse," chimed in Vanessa Karam,  a general education professor at University of the West. "No Muslim  cannot say that's the foundation for everything, right?" 
"I think Shariah [law] is totally made up," shot back Zonneveld.  "It's not like there's a page in the Quran that says, 'For you to be  Muslim, you have to live by these set of rules.'" 
Their differing takes were emblematic of that often unspoken conflict  within this community: Are the progressives practicing religion? Or do  they resemble secular, cultural Muslims?
Yasir Qadhi, a popular conservative cleric and dean of academic  affairs at Houston-based AlMaghrib Institute, holds the latter view. A 
lecture on progressives that he has given at Islamic conferences has garnered thousands of views on YouTube.
"The very fact that the movement is so small or marginal speaks  volumes about their sway and influence," says Qadhi, who lives in  Memphis, Tenn., and whose institute trains 6,000 students annually.  "It's pretty clear the mainstream of Muslims of North America, who are  under no pressure or threat of physical violence, have clearly  identified with traditional voices."
"'Let's look at the text of the Quran and see what Allah and his  messenger want us to do rather than to project our ideas onto the text,"  Qadhi says. "We traditionalists firmly believe the Quran is the book of  Allah and the speech of Allah."  
Dalia Mogahed, director of the Gallup Center for Muslim Studies, also takes a critical view of the progressives.
Muslims for Progressive Values "are little more than a footnote or a  special interest," she writes in an email. "Their actual influence in  the [Muslim American] community is virtually non-existent," adds  Mogahed, who spent six years collecting 50,000 interviews for the book  "Who Speaks For Islam? What a Billion Muslims Really Think." 
Mohamed Magid, the president of the Islamic Society of North America,  takes a softer approach. As the imam of the All Dulles Area Muslim  Society, a 5,000-member cluster of mosques in Northern Virginia, he  welcomes a "marketplace of ideas" competing within Islam. "I have no  right to strip anyone from Islam who wants to be Muslim," he says. Men,  however, always lead prayers at his mosque, and Magid doesn't believe  Islam condones homosexuality.
CORRECTION: An earlier version of this  article said the Quran "includes passages with violent punishments for  gay sex." This has been corrected.
Across the globe, the rise of the women's and gay rights movements  has not left Islam untouched. For more than two decades, Muslims  scattered around the world have been re-examining gender roles within  Islam. In the Middle East and South Asia, Muslim activists have fought  against female genital mutilation and honor killings, convincing clerics  to issue 
fatwas declaring the practices 
un-Islamic.
In the United States, Amina Wadud, who taught Islamic studies at  Virginia Commonwealth University, has been leading prayer sessions with  men and women for years. One of her first, in South Africa in 1994, led  conservative Muslims to call for her removal from the university's  faculty. 
Asra Nomani, a former 
 Wall Street Journal  reporter who organized the freedom tour, has held prayers at several  American mosques, with women congregating in the men's section during  Friday prayers and refusing to leave. 
 Such controversial events, though, have brought little change within most mosques. 
The gay rights movement within Islam has been quieter. An organization for gay Muslims, Al-Fatiha, 
sprang up  in the United States the late 1990s. The group organized annual  retreats and its members marched in gay pride parades in San Francisco.  Widely 
condemned by sheiks for promoting homosexuality in Islam, the organization disbanded by the mid-2000s. 
Muslims for Progressive Values doesn't espouse the kind of public  activism of prior movements. Members say their goal from the beginning  was for Muslims to build spiritual communities around their own  interests. Some attend local mosques, while others like Zonneveld don't  care to join long-established mosques. They want their own.
"It's hard to tell how successful these progressive groups will be,"  Esposito says. "Often, these kinds of reforms, when they start to take  place, usually consist of small groups that are a vanguard within the  religion. You run the risk of alienating even people who see themselves  as reform minded if they see one issue, such as gay imams, that they  think goes too far."
***  Two weeks ago in Los Angeles, Zonneveld gathered with progressive  Muslims at a Middle Eastern cultural center to inaugurate a new mosque.  Sitting cross-legged in a circle with her companions, she sang the call  to prayer, exulting the glory of God. She made a bold proclamation about  the believers who were joining her that day. Muslims from San Francisco  to Seattle tuned in via Skype.
"We are gender equal, queer-friendly and religiously  nondiscriminatory," Zonneveld declared. "In other words, all are  welcome. Allah tells us in the Quran that the Prophet Muhammad, peace be  upon him, was a 'mercy to the worlds.'"  
The group praised Allah in Arabic -- and English, a language rarely  used for formal prayers. Women stood beside men. Among the ragtag group  of Muslims were gay converts, feminist academics and lapsed believers  seeking to rediscover their faith.
After prayers, the imam, a Shiite convert with Korean ancestry, read  from a list of requests that others passed toward him. One congregant  asked the group to pray for his friend's brother who was in the  hospital. Another asked for a blessing for those caught in the violent  upheaval in Syria. A few requested prayers for the pregnant women in  their community.
In an Arabic nod to tradition, the congregation recited Surat  Al-Fatiha, the opening chapter of the Quran. Observant Muslims say it  before every prayer. The chapter praises the "master of all reckoning,"  asking him to "guide us along the road." In English, they chanted  another prayer, based upon the dances of Sufi dervishes. "O Allah!  Increase my light everywhere," they recited, asking God to open their  hearts and minds. It expressed hope for the future.
This wasn't the first time the Los Angeles Muslims had met for  prayers. In 2009, they had gathered at a Methodist church but never  could draw steady crowd. And not all Muslims received them well. In one  instance, a traditional Muslim stopped by to lecture them on their  faults. Then the church, where they rented a meeting room, closed in  April. 
That mosque never had a name, but on their listserv, the progressives  debated passionately last week about what to call  their place of  worship. "Light of Islam Mosque," suggested one person. "The Progressive  Mosque," pitched another.
At last, the group came up with a simple solution, one reflecting its  aims of openness and inclusion. The plaque outside their rented space,  they agreed, would bear an inscription that started with "MPV" (Muslims  for Progressive Values) and ended with "mosque."
And in the middle there would be one word: "Unity."