Kaufman Updates
Permanent link for 'By Closing the Door, You Create the Room' | By Zahabia Ahmed-Usmani, Youth Program Manager on April 15, 2025
One of my most poignant memories of undergrad was living in the dorms and adjusting to life with the uber wealthy at a private liberal arts college. Being the daughter of Pakistani immigrant parents, my daily rhythms of living were so different from those that I would now spend my days and nights with. One of my most salient memories was eating in our dining hall, which at Scripps, my college, was in each dorm. I remember how awkward I felt even using the knife and fork because I was accustomed to eating with my right hand, as most people from the Indian subcontinent do. I felt uncultured, unmannered, out of place, unworthy– an impostor. Why was I there, and did I belong? At the risk of dating myself, the 90s were not a time when people were open to learning about what made you unique and how you did not fit into Wonderbread America; it was a much more judgmental time. I spent those years of undergrad observing, learning, soaking in the mannerisms, the spoken and unspoken as a dogged anthropologist. One of the things I absorbed is what it felt like to feel acutely excluded. I can now spot the people who linger on the periphery of gatherings, looking at those comfortably mixing and mingling, because I was them - and in some cases, I still am. I’m grateful to work with a team of people at Kaufman who strive to ensure that everyone feels included and welcome in our spaces.
In The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters, Priya Parker explains that the reason we gather should be rooted in purpose to the extent that we “make purpose your bouncer.” At Kaufman, we try to create intentional spaces rooted in purpose. The folks that are included are those who fulfill that purpose and are intentionally invited. While we create these containers to gather in and wonder about if we have done so well, moments of awe happen along the way that remind us that not all learning is programmed and not all growth can be measured.
One of those moments happened a couple of weeks ago. Our Interfaith Leadership Scholars are quickly approaching the end of their program. For this year’s project, they are hosting an interactive dialogue centered on worldview identity and mental health. They have curated this project from start to finish using the leadership skills they developed during the first semester. (We cannot wait to show you the fruits of their labor in May!) Our last working meeting took place during Ramadan, so we ran through the logistics of the event and came back to our office to debrief. As we wrapped up, the topic shifted to the students asking me about how Ramadan was going. A Jewish Scholar mentioned that she loved watching Muslim TikTok and learned from a “revert” influencer about Tahajjud prayers. My mind was blown! What? Muslim TikTok? “Revert”? She knows what Tahajjud prayers are? There are Muslims who don’t know what that is! A Sikh student chimed in, “I like following an influencer that does ASMR of her praying in different places. I find the whispering of the Quran really relaxing.” Once again, these moments of holy envy for me were just awe inspiring. How am I finding out about this at our last official working meeting with this group? Did it take the whole year of us doing the “work” together to get to the point of us then sharing these intersections, or did the intersections happen because we had done the “work” together? I looked around at the Sikh, Christian, Hindu, Atheist, Muslim, and Humanist students and realized that while we were still in the process of nailing down what the exact definition of the Scholars program is, we have successfully created a container that activates the potential of these diverse identities in a way that is transformative.
Thinking back to the times when I felt and feel like an outsider makes me value so much the time when I have been consciously seen. Creating these third spaces or containers of interactions requires initiative. M. Hasna Maznavi, a family friend and Muslim woman who took the initiative to found the first ever Women’s Mosque of America, passed away two weeks ago at the young age of 39. While in California, I was able to attend her funeral, where I saw the impact this young woman had in creating a space where people who often felt voiceless were empowered to grow in knowledge, with the goal of transforming the other spaces they occupied. This mosque did not start without resistance and misunderstanding. She, however, persisted by explaining the intentions of the space she sought to create, the reason it was needed, the purpose it served, and the benefits it provided among the Muslim institutional landscape. Parker would say, “By closing the door, you create the room.” The mosque is valuable in who it excludes because it empowers and uplifts those who are typically invisible. In Hasna’s own words, the goal of the Women’s Mosque was to “create a middle ground that appeals to all Muslim women from the conservative to the liberal, with the ultimate goal to uplift the entire Ummah [broader Muslim community] by empowering Muslim women.” As we move towards creating spaces of inclusion, may we remember to practice radical welcome bounded by intentional purpose.
