Brian Slattery photo
It’s two photos of people engaged in the same act — one a child and one an adult — practicing a custom centuries old. For the viewer, it’s a glimpse into a space usually not seen outside the community.
The label below the photo on the left quotes an Afghan woman named Seema: “Prayer is very important for us and our children. We start teaching our children to pray when they are about 5 years old; mainly mothers are the ones who teach them at home. When bad things happen, Afghan women go to Allah and ask for help. My husband had an accident, and this is my 5‑year-old daughter; after prayer, she is saying her du’as and asking for help for her dad. Here she is holding a tasbih and wearing the hijab, at this age they only wear the hijab for prayers. I’m so happy when I see them praying to God — to Allah.” As Aryana, quoted at the bottom of the photo to the right, says, “Afghan women love their religion and trust God.”
The photos are just two of dozens of illuminating and moving photos in “Afghan Women’s Narratives Through Art: Exploring Themes of Identity and Home,” running now at the Wilson Branch Library at 303 Washington Ave.
The show “represents the work from two CRIW (Collective for Refugee and Immigrant Women’s Wellbeing) Expressive Arts Initiatives,” an accompanying text states. “Using multiple artistic platforms, we reduced barriers to expression and empowered mostly preliterate women from rural Afghanistan, who are often unheard due to barriers of ethnicity, language, poverty, gender and education, to tell their own stories.” The initiative, Photovoice, “uses photos and group discussions to identify, analyze, and represent their community’s strengths and needs to share with the larger community. This workshop had 10 women participants and included a photography tutorial.”
“Over two weeks,” the text continues, “women captured photographs according to the agreed upon theme: ‘being an Afghan woman,’ followed by group meetings to select the images to include in the exhibit. The resulting images highlight the importance of faith, family, hospitality and homemaking — sources of strength and pride as they try to preserve their culture and tradition.” (For safety reasons, all the names in the text are pseudonyms.)
As the photographs show, many of this abstract themes converge in a few tangible ways. One is through food; many of the photographs, such as the one on the right above, are of tables full of dishes of prepared meals. As the notes explain, cooking knowledge and skill is passed down through women from generation to generation. Aryana states in one note that “in Afghanistan, we always have breakfast together as a family. Here in the U.S., we can only do it on weekends because we all have different schedules. Every morning, I wake up at 5:30 a.m. to cook for the family.… Afghan women cook three times a day for their families; before eating, we pray. During the meal, women do most of the talking while men are more quiet. I am happy to see my family together.” Zaineb agrees that “it’s important for an Afghan woman to cook well. It is a sign of respect to cook for other people, friends, and visitors.” The photo shows a meal she has cooked for her husband’s friends. “While it makes me happy to do this,” she says, “I remember how tiring cooking can be, as I have five children and a lot of work to do.”
Other photographs and comments describe complex feelings about the connection to Afghanistan. Many of the photographers are proud of their abilities to maintain the traditions they had in Afghanistan, from food to religious practice to dress and home decor. These aren’t superficial routines or simply a matter of taste; they are cultural preservation and connection to homeland, especially as so many things are made by hand, from clothing to tablecloths and pillows. Many of the commenters see it as imperative to maintain their homemaking skills and pass them on to their daughters. At the same time, there are hints of why they left. One commenter, Razia, notes that her 15-year-old daughter would not be able to go to school in Afghanistan any more. “Education for girls and women has stopped,” Razia says, and “this makes me sad.”
All in all, the photographs come across as a rare invitation into people’s homes. Were we not invited — or perhaps even if the photographers hadn’t also been the subjects of the photos — it could almost feel intrusive. As it is, it feels like a gift. The sense of intimacy is perhaps strongest in the photographs of people’s henna-decorated hands and the accompanying discussion about henna. Though it is common to adorn the hands for special occasions, “not every woman knows how to do it,” explains Zahra, a commenter. “I got married when I was young, so I didn’t have time to learn. I was cooking and cleaning instead.” But her daughters know. That’s one of her daughter’s hands in the above picture. “My other daughter put it on for her.” That her daughter learned from someone speaks to the depth of the community that has been created around New Haven among Afghan families. They came so far, and brought so much with them, in their heads, hearts, and hands. Steeped in old ways, they’re creating new ties.
“Afghan Women’s Narratives Through Art: Exploring Themes of Identity and Home” is running now in the Wilson Branch Library, 303 Washington Ave., and can be seen during the library’s open hours. Visit the Wilson Branch Library’s website for more information.