Rabia Siddiqui

Headshot of Rabia Siddiqui

Ontologies and Hauntologies

Thesis Statement

I am not a good Muslim girl.

I am barely a woman.

I interact with other gods.

I am not who I am expected to be.

Red is a symbol of the root chakra, muladhara. Found at the base of the spine, it is the focus of feeling secure and grounded—something that I have never had control over.

I am falling apart.

Red is also family, ancestry sewn into my lifeless white cloth. No matter how far I try to get from my family, they are ingrained in me. I love them, and yet they tear at me and string me along like cats. Cats are seen as clean. They are able to pass through holy places and pray alongside us. They play in yarn and fluff and rip and maim. They do not see the damage they do. Muslim heritage connects my family through this frayed, cosmic yarn.

I execrate and mourn these blood red connections.

Sitting with this effigy and dealing with these thoughts allows me to work through the discomfort of being. Building layer after layer, stitch after stitch, my 'awrah is held in a dissociated stasis. My repetition casts a spell for any who sees it to perceive my liminality.

I am not my father’s daughter, nor my mother’s son. I express so much variability that only I may truly know.

The following QR Code is the sound of this piece, place headphones on, sit a spell, and listen for yourself.

QR Code leading to Spotify playlist. Figure of white fabric, red stitches, and a teapot for a head sits in a crossed legged position. A red fabric cat stands on the figure’s leg. A red fabric cat sculpture with a vintage cream dish for a head pours polyfill out of its head. It sits in its own stuffing A white fabric hand with red stitches rests on a leg crossed. A cushioned chair draped in red, surrounded by tattered red curtains and white walls A red fabric cat sculpture pulls strings at the back of the figure, unfurling the stitches of the spine. The base of the spine has become undone, pouring stuffing out.