T

he muezzin’s call rang out over 
the masjid speakers, reciting the 
Islamic kalima, or statement of 

faith, and my mother grabbed my hand as 
we separated from my father and brother 
to answer the call to prayer. It was one of 
the occasional times my family went to 
our mosque in Miami, but at age eight, I 
was already aware that we were walking 
to the women’s section behind the men’s, 
separated by a row of dividers across 
the middle of a large prayer room. The 
unpatterned wall of beige dividers towered 
over me when I was a child, but as time 
went on, they never really felt smaller. 
They blocked our view of the imam, or 
religious leader, and we prayed, listening to 
his disembodied voice recite excerpts from 
the Quran. 

After years of the same routine, I 

remember one day finally asking my mother 
why we had to pray separate from the men. 
Her answer, somewhat vague, combined 
the notion of prioritizing spiritualism, that 
the separation allowed mosque-goers to 
focus on God alone and because of tradition 
— this was what had always been done. I 
was temporarily comforted by her answer, 
but I couldn’t help but wonder why it was 
the women who were delegated behind the 
barriers. 

I wasn’t the first person to ask these 

questions, nor will I be the last. Members 
of the reformist Muslim community have 
combatted questions like these for years, 
with some groups staging protests against 
gendered practices. In 2003, activist and 
journalist Asra Q. Nomani challenged her 
mosque in Morgantown, West Virginia by 
praying in the men’s section rather than the 
secluded women’s section on the balcony. 
She argued, “The prophet Muhammad 
didn’t put women behind partitions, and 
the barriers were just emblematic of sexist 
man-made rules.” Her actions resulted 
in a trial organized by the mosque. Years 
later, a group of women, led by Fatimah 
Thompson, in Washington, D.C., staged a 
similar act of civil disobedience and were 
consequently escorted out by police force.

Nomani spoke on NPR’s series “Faith 

Matters” to expand on the importance of 
breaking gender segregation, “... the mosque 
is not just a prayer space, it is a community 
hall. It is a place where public policy in 
the community is established. And what 
happens when you sequester women into 
these corners, is we dont vote at elections. 

We don’t participate in policy development. 
And so, you allow these places to become 
safe houses for ideology that may not be 
peaceful always.” She proposes that while 
she wishes to abolish gender segregation in 
mosques, she still respects women who feel 
safer praying in their respective sections 
and believes women should have the option 
to pray where they please.

Their movement is one of many across 

America — and the larger world — that 
reflect a shift in the way we approach 
spirituality in an increasingly secularized 
world. Traditionally, we have viewed 
organized religion and religious traditions 
as an applied, systematic reflection of one’s 
spirituality, but religion and spirituality 
are not always the same. 

In a 2017 poll, the Pew Research Center 

reported that 27 percent of U.S. adults 
identify as spiritual but not religious. This 
number reflects a steady increase, which 
is estimated to increase by 8 percentage 
points in the five years after the study. 
Other studies report Americans who 
identify 
their 
religious 
affiliation 
as 

“nothing in particular” have grown by 5 
percent. Indeed, people are leaving their 
sects, but are they in search of something 
else? 

My 
personal 
sense 
of 
spirituality 

centers around the belief that I am only 
a small piece of a larger, unexplainable 
world. Rather than letting this scare me, 
spirituality tells me that in my existence 
there is balance, and within the madness 
there is meaning. Growing up, I sincerely 
appreciated the role religion played in my 
life. I recall reciting prayers before I slipped 
my mask on at fencing tournaments, before 
taking exams or before just about any 
challenge I prepared myself to face. I didn’t 
pray to mystically improve my skills, but 
rather to acknowledge aspects of life that 
were beyond my own control. Praying was 
putting out the energy to “the forces that 
be” — asking for a just outcome. 

My need for change regarding my 

spirituality arose not because of the way 
it was applied in my life. What troubled 
me was when forms of spirituality, 
which I have always held as a source of 
empowerment, seemed to disempower my 
existence. As I grew older, I remember 
continuing to ask my mother about why our 
experiences at the mosque felt so distant 
and different from those of my father 
and brother. Despite her honest efforts, I 

no longer felt satisfied by the religious 
explanations for differences within our 
practices of the same faith. I found myself 
confused with what to do with the faith I 
still felt but had no way of directing. I felt 
I could never embrace a belief system that 
didn’t value me — and all people — 
in the same way. 

Other 
modern 
worshippers 

within organized religion have 
often grappled with this sense 
of disempowerment within their 
communities, particularly those 
with marginalized identities, like 
women or members of the LGBTQ+ 
community. 
Oppressive 
beliefs 

within religious communities can 
even extend beyond marginalized 
groups in their impact and can 
inhibit the altruistic objectives 
that many religious groups strive to 
fulfill. In late March, a temporary 
New York City hospital intended 
to 
treat 
COVID-19 
patients, 

funded by Christian evangelist 
group Samaritan’s Purse, required 
volunteers to agree to a “statement 
of faith” that says “marriage is 
exclusively the union of one genetic 
male and one genetic female” 
before allowing them to volunteer. 

As population statistics have 

reflected, modern ideas of faith have 
been changing, and members of 
established organized religions are 
left with the question of whether or 
not to adapt. The Muslim reformists 
protesting 
gender 
segregation 

demonstrate one of many ways 
policy changes are being made 
within religious communities to 
reflect a commitment to equity 
and inclusion. Similarly, recent 
years have seen the growth of 
Christian 
LGBTQ+ 
support 

groups, such as The Naming 
Project, which aims to “provide 
a safe and sacred space where 
youth of all sexual orientations 
and gender identities are named 
and claimed by a loving God” 
through camps and programming for 
LGBTQ+ youth. According to Catholic 
news publication Crux, Pope Francis has 
said that homosexual tendencies are “not a 
sin” and has famously answered, “Who am 
I to judge?” when asked about his stance on 
homosexuality.

Here 
in 
Ann 
Arbor, 
the 
First 

Congregational Church of Ann Arbor 
has emphasized their commitment to 
inclusivity through a church resolution 
stating that church members must “speak 
out against hate-speech, physical attacks, 
and threats aimed at individuals or groups. 
(They) work to make (their) communities 
free of hatred and intimidation.” These 
efforts aim to make faith more inclusive, 

equitable and accessible to a broader range 
of people across socioeconomic, racial and 
gender identities, among others. 

Still, as statistics show an increase of 

those who consider themselves spiritual 
but not religious, new spiritual outlets 
outside 
of 
organized 
religions 
have 

increased in popularity. Pop culture has 
reflected a growing awareness of avenues 
of spirituality that fall beyond popular 
religions. Weekly astrological horoscopes 
in magazines, like those in Cosmopolitan 
and The Huffington Post, have become 
widely popularized. Film and television, 
driven by magical realism and themes 
of environmentalism and spiritualism, 
such as “My Neighbor Totoro,” have been 

critically acclaimed and widely viewed, 
grossing over $30 million at the box office. 
A core theme of James Cameron’s “Avatar,” 
the second highest grossing film of all time, 
is environmental spiritualism. 

Even social conceptions of organized 

religion have broken into the public 

consciousness 
through 
award-

winning films such 
as 
“The 
Master” 

starring 
Joaquin 

Phoenix 
and 
the 

late Phillip Seymour 
Hoffman, 
which 

portrays Scientology 
and grants the public 
insight into religious 
ideologies 
that 

weren’t 
previously 

widely known. 

Why people leave 

their 
religious 

groups or seek out different expressions of 
spirituality is a question with multitudes of 
answers based on experience and context. 
To understand a bit more about how 
young people are dealing with the tension 
between spirituality and religion, I spoke 
to a few college students on their own 
journeys to a new spirituality.

In a phone interview with The Daily, 

Sydney Merydith, an incoming 
college freshman at The New 
School 
in 
New 
York 
City, 

described her relationship with 
astrology as “providing a greater 
sense of understanding whatever 
life presents,” and that while she 
uses astrology to define herself, 
she wouldn’t describe the practice 
as a religion. In fact, she turned 
to astrology after feeling what 
she describes as “the danger 
of the rigidity that comes with 
organized religion.”

Merydith’s 
concerns 
about 

rigidity are echoed by researchers 
studying the driving forces behind 
the religiously unaffiliated. In 
journalist Kevin Shrum’s analysis 
of James E. White’s book “Facts 
and Trends, Rise of the Nones: 
Understanding 
and 
Reaching 

the 
Religiously 
Unaffiliated,” 

he remarks that one of White’s 
key explanations for movement 
away from the Christian church 
is that “the church is too narrow-
minded and unbending on moral 
issues” and “antiquated in its 
methodologies.” Essentially, some 
have felt that the restrictions of 
organized religion do not fully 
encapsulate 
what 
spirituality 

means for them and that its 
methodologies are alienating. 

Raised Catholic, Merydith said, 

“My experience with organized 
religion made me scared and 
angry at the idea of any religion — 
but as I discovered more aspects 
to spirituality, I realized that 
believing that was in itself a rigid 
way of thinking. Astrology helped 
me open up to finding my own 
spiritual path.”

Indeed, astrology has acted as a 

mechanism for many to expand their 
conceptions of spiritualism. Pew Research 
Center data shows that 29 percent of 
Americans believe in astrology and its 
growing cultural acceptance has been 
unseen since the 1970s. The data also 

reflects that many couple their belief in 
organized religion with a belief in other 
spiritual conceptions, labeled “New Age” 
by the Pew Research Center, like astrology. 

In The New Yorker, journalist Christine 

Smallwood 
describes 
the 
growing 

population of those who believe in 
astrology as remarkable. “It’s not just that 
you hear (about astrology). It’s who’s saying 
it: people who aren’t kooks or climate-
change deniers, who see no contradiction 
between using astrology and believing 
in science. The change is fuelling (sic) a 
new generation of practitioners.” This 
reveals another aspect of some modern 
spiritualists; they question the balance 
between faith and science.

Shrum’s summary of White’s book “The 

Rise of the Nones: Understanding and 
Reaching the Religiously Unaffiliated” 
addresses this notion by explaining that 
another reason we can see a population 
shift 
away 
from 
organized 
religion, 

particularly Christianity, is because of its 
lack of evidence or scientific explanation 
regarding key tenets of the religion, such 
as the creation myth. This struggle is 
heightened within an increasingly secular 
world. 

Gehenna Garcia, a sophomore at the 

University of Michigan, described growing 
up in a Christian household in which she 
was told reading religious magazines, such 
as “The Origin of Life - Five Questions 
Worth Asking,” would answer her broader 
questions regarding faith’s relationship to 
science. 

“It explained that the chance of the Big 

Bang and evolution was minuscule, but they 
never gave evidence regarding their God. It 
was extremely hard for me to believe in one 
omnipotent God.” 

Even 
after 
moving 
away 
from 

Christianity, 
she 
maintained 
her 

spirituality, “While in the religion, my 
beliefs were that spirituality was the belief 
in God, praising his name, and spreading 
his word throughout the world. After 
moving away from conventional religion, 
I began to realize that spirituality was our 
connection to ourselves and this world.”

After identifying as agnostic, Garcia 

recently discovered Wicca, which she 
described as “the belief that we should 
worship the Earth and give back what it 
gave us,” from her roommate who was 
taking a history class on witchcraft. She 
now identifies as a pagan and also believes 
in astrology. 

Garcia discovered paganism, a religion 

not related to the three major world religions 
— Islam, Judaism and Christianity — and 
that invovles nature worship, after she 
had already begun to practice witchcraft, 
and found it easy to merge the two belief 
systems. Describing the process, she said, 
“I still felt as if I was missing something. I 
had always had issues believing in one god, 
but with paganism, there are pantheons 
of gods and goddesses … after discovering 
paganism and doing extensive research, it 
was easy to change my path in witchcraft 
to please the gods and goddesses that I 
prefer to give offerings to and work with.” 

Her synthesis of belief systems reflects 

an increasing personalization of faith and 
spirituality. As some choose to believe 

in a structured faith system as well as 
astrology, or a combination of a number 
of 
spiritual-based 
ideologies, 
modern 

spirituality can be a customized process, 
self-determination based on the factors one 
aligns with. 

Merydith navigates astrology with her 

friends with the same sense of fluidity. 
“We like to read as much as the stars have 
to tell us, and decide for ourselves if it’s 
something we believe, something that 
could guide our actions or something that 
just isn’t really useful or applicable.” 

Yet for those who choose to explore 

“new age” outlets for spirituality, how have 
they connected to each other without the 
traditional meeting places we expect from 
organized religions?

Some, like Garcia, have turned to the 

internet. For every subgroup, there are 
pages on Facebook, Reddit, Tumblr and 
other social media websites connecting 
believers across cities and continents. 
Garcia discovered astrology through the 
blogging website Tumblr and discovered 
other spiritualists like her through the app 
TikTok. 

“TikTok has actually connected me with 

other people who have the same beliefs as 
me … the people who have been in my faith 
for a long time help those of us who are 
fairly new. It was and still is, really difficult 
to find people who have the same ideology 
as me in real life. Many people are scared 
or turned away from my beliefs,” she said.

Shared spirituality also allows one to feel 

connected to a greater purpose or meaning. 
Across traditional organized religions, 
reformed religions, “new age” spiritualism, 
niche spiritual sects or a combination 
thereof, there’s a common part of us that 
gains comfort in being an accepted part of 
something bigger than ourselves. 

In this time of year where Instagram feeds 

are flooded with pictures of celebrations of 
Passover, Easter and Ramadan, it’s obvious 
that traditions of togetherness, family and 
reflection are still important vehicles that 
drive spirituality and religious practice. 
Maybe before focusing on where religion is 
headed, we must consider what it has been 
for us thus far: Something that brings us 
together.

As my family gears up for Ramadan, I am 

once again faced with the question of what 
exactly I believe. Spirituality has been a 
journey for me, and I still find it hard to 
fully place myself at a single destination. 
However, while this uncertainty used to 
give me anxiety, writing this piece has 
been truly therapeutic. Realizing that new 
methods of spirituality are growing in 
popularity and acceptance, that millions of 
other Americans don’t quite have their own 
spirituality narrowed down and that there 
are people out there I can connect with 
when I do feel like connecting, has given 
me the reassurance I’ve been searching 
for. Spirituality is not all or nothing, it just 
simply is. I do not have to be the perfect 
Muslim. I do not have to be anything at all. 
I simply believe — and that’s enough.

Sarah Rahman is a freshman in LSA 

studying Political Science and Economics 
and can be reached at srah@umich.edu.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020 // The Statement
4B
5B
Wednesday, April 15, 2020 // The Statement

BY SARAH RAHMAN, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR

‘New Spirituality’: outlets for 
spiritualism in a now secular world

INFOGRAPHIC BY JONATHAN WALSH

