The Globe & Mail - Let's not shake on it

Let's not shake on it
Some would call a refusal to shake hands downright rude. Others see it another way.

By MUHAMMAD ATHAR LILA
Wednesday, March 2, 2005 Updated at 1:40 PM EST

Imagine, for a moment, that you're on your way to the most important job interview of your life. You've spent the previous two weeks preparing for it, anticipating the questions, memorizing the answers, and figuring out ways to impress your prospective employer.
You're escorted into an empty room and told to wait until the boss arrives.

After a few minutes, the door opens. In walks a tall, welcoming, attractive woman. Your knees starting to wobble. She smiles, approaches you, sticks out her hand, and says: "Hi, nice to finally meet you."

You stand there, frozen, staring at her outstretched hand. The lump in your throat is starting to grow. She's confused, as though she's done something wrong. After a few awkward moments, you finally muster the courage to respond the only way you know how.
"Uhhhh, sorry, I don't shake hands with women."

Offensive? Absurd? Chauvinistic? Welcome to the dilemma that is my life.

As a Muslim, I try to practice my religion to the best of my ability. For me, that includes not shaking hands with women other than those with whom I have a blood relationship. And I'm not alone. Thousands of Canadian Muslims face the same problem. In our schools, community centres, hospitals, places of work -- you name it -- we face the same challenge everyday: To shake or not to shake?

It's not an easy decision. Let's face it, in the West, handshakes have become more than just a formality. An outstretched hand is a cry for attention: "Validate me." "Greet me." "Respect me."

As a journalist, it's particularly difficult to not shake hands. We journos meet new people every day. Shaking hands is a matter of routine. If I don't shake hands with a new contact, for example, they could bear a grudge that would make it difficult to get information from them in the future. It also makes interviewing news sources extremely awkward.
I can already hear you thinking: "This guy's pretty extreme. It's just a handshake. Is he a Wahhabi or something?"

No, I'm not an extremist. And no, I'm not some Saudi-sponsored preacher trying to promote a narrow-minded view of religion. I think women should vote, be elected to office, run large corporations, solve the world's problems, and challenge our male-dominated culture to reclaim their rightful status as an equal half of creation. I think I'm about as laid back as they come.

And yet, I don't shake hands with non-related women. For me, the decision goes back to how I interpret my faith's teachings. That's right, not all "orthodox" Muslims -- you know, the ones with the big, scraggly beards and funny skull caps -- are blind followers. Some of us, maybe even most of us, have thought it through for ourselves. It's one of the advantages of living in the West: In an open-marketplace of ideologies, you don't have time to be a blind follower. You've got to think things through for yourself.

So how does a Canadian Muslim -- born and raised with fully modern, western sensibilities -- arrive at such a seemingly rigid interpretation? It comes down to this: During his lifetime, the Prophet Muhammad, whom Muslims look to as a perfect role model, never shook hands with women he was not related to. He also discouraged his followers from physically touching people they were not related to. So, because the Prophet's life, or sunnah, is a source of legislation in Islam, shaking hands is considered inappropriate.

Now, it would be easy to dismiss the prohibition as out-dated and, as some would argue, in need of reform -- hey, especially when it means you'll get that new job you've always wanted. And yet, as more and more Canadian Muslims begin to re-define their faith, many are choosing to stop shaking hands. They've concluded that being a believer means not picking and choosing which rules to follow.

But the problem is: How do you refuse to shake someone's hand without offending them? And what's more important, following your religion or not offending a stranger? Think about all the times you've had job interviews, met a new client, or were introduced to someone at a party. What would have happened if you didn't shake their hand? Disappointment? Confrontation? Rejection?

Or, as I've come to learn, would it have led to curiosity on the part of the person whose hand you've refused to shake? Would the person want to know more about your religion and ask why you wouldn't shake their hand? And might that, in turn, give you the chance to explain your religion to them, thereby strengthening your own belief? I can't think of a better introduction than that.

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to meet Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, the spiritual leader of Iraq's Shiites. He also happens to be democratic; a pluralist and moderate who belongs to the "quietist" school of thought, which says clerics should shun political life.
Our delegation consisted of handful of pilgrims, mostly women. As we sat in the small, undecorated room in his house used for meetings with visitors, I wondered how he would make his entrance. When he arrived, he made a point of greeting all the women one by one, and to my amazement, stuck out his hand for the women to shake. But before they could reach it, he would cover it with his abba -- a tattered, see-through cloak that was thinner than pantyhose.

One by one, he shook their hands through his abba. As I look back on the experience, I think he was making a deliberate point: It's okay to enjoy western ideals, just don't go too far. I think it was his way of bridging the gap between Islam and the West.

Muhammad Athar Lila lives in Toronto where he is a producer at iChannel.

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