But when I spoke to my mum about what Baba had said, she was reassuring: ‘Yassmina, Baba has lived his life. He’s enjoyed it and had a full one, Alhamdulillah. Live your own life. We believe that Allah has written for us who we get married to. So don’t worry so much! There’s no point sitting around waiting for it. Just do you.’
All the marriage drama aside, my time in Sudan was a welcome break from the usual hubbub. I spent hours with my father debating the Sudanese political landscape, American foreign policy and what I was going to do with my life. I began to see Sudan through different eyes. It was no longer the place I came just to see family. It was a country I could have a mature relationship with in a way that was still being cast and redefined. I began to appreciate that I was probably more Sudaniya than I realised – I truly was one of the diaspora and I could give back to this community. I’d always assumed that I wouldn’t be able to have an impact in Sudan, through volunteering or otherwise, because my family didn’t have a tribe, because my Arabic wasn’t as good as my English. But for the first time I brought my change-making identity to the land of my birth. I spoke at Khartoum’s Start Up Grind event that trip, sharing the learnings from starting Youth Without Borders and bringing the concepts of unconscious bias to Sudan. The response was massively positive, which gave me food for thought. Perhaps there is work to be done here. Perhaps I can make a difference. And although Habooba wouldn’t be here to see it, I am sure she would agree, Inshallah. Although she probably would want me to get married first!
I wore the ibaya back to the airport, blending into the crowds on the way to Australia. Well, blending in until I got on the flight from Dubai to Canberra, where I definitely stood out. I was flying direct to Canberra for an unconference, Junket 2016, and I chose not to change into my Western clothing, savouring the last little bit of Sudan. As I rolled my suitcase into the Canberra hotel, people who passed stared at my outfit – a different kind of stare to the one I usually got. When she later saw a picture of me in Sudan, my Melbourne housemate Cass said, ‘I would talk to that Yassmin so differently to the Yassmin I’m used to.’
I smiled at the hotel receptionist, thinking of how this same dress said wildly different things to different people. No wonder I couldn’t figure things out. As I took off my ibaya in my room and slipped into an outfit the young attendees of the unconference would find more palatable, I laughed to myself. Caramello egg, chameleon, or just confused? What a time to be alive.
The world is changing around us in ways no expert seems able to predict. We are truly in a state of flux. Everywhere I look, whether internally or to the people, cultures and norms around me, things are shifting. The West seems to be moving to nationalism, isolationism. The MENA countries are increasingly conservative in their religious expectations and practices. Powerhouses like China and Russia are jockeying for position. Australian politicians seem incapable of explaining to my generation where future jobs are going to come from, or how we will ever be able to afford a house. ‘Post-truth’ is the word of the year.
But on the other hand, I’ve had fourteen-year-old school students talk to me about intersectionality, using phrases I only learnt recently. Young girls are being encouraged into STEM subjects, youth-led organisations are popping up around the world, and tech is being used to unlock talents across developing countries.
It is an incredible but also deeply uncomfortable time to be alive. There is a Lenin quote that sums up my feelings about the current happenings:
There are decades where nothing happens; and then there are weeks where decades happen.
I think we are living in those weeks.
Now more than ever we have to be engaged, vigilant and ready to fight for what we believe in. I believe in a world of equal access to opportunity. Of reduced inequality. Of respect for one another, of empathy, of the power of human connection to trump difference. I will plant my stake in the ground for these things.
What does that mean for what I do going forward? I honestly have no idea. People keep asking what’s next, and I can’t say for certain where I will be in the next year, five years, or decade. If you had asked me five years ago whether I would have toured the world, published a memoir, hosted a TV show, worked on oil rigs, moved cities and accidentally picked a fight with a famous author then written about it for the New York Times and still not have gotten married, I would have laughed in your face. Loudly and boldly, probably with some leg slapping. So I cannot predict where the next five years will take me, Inshallah.
Moving forward my choices will be more actively aligned with my value system and the difference I want to make in the world. At the moment my focus is on the empowerment of women, particularly women of colour, and in access to energy. But who knows from here?
All I know for certain is that the world can no longer wait for me – or anyone – to be comfortable with the idea of stepping up to fight for a better world, or to step into our power. There is too much happening, too quickly, for us to wait.
‘The standard you walk past is the standard you accept.’ The quote popularised by General David Morrison rings particularly true in times like these. It forces me to ask myself: what am I accepting around me, implicitly or explicitly? Am I positively impacting the world in every possible way, Inshallah? Am I living with integrity?
Ultimately though, the words of my mother provide me the truest guidance: ‘One day, Allah will ask you: “I gave you all these gifts, all these opportunities, all these skills. What did you do with them? How did you use what I gave you to make the world a better place?”’
I hope I have a good enough answer, Inshallah.
Our first official portrait as a family of four, living in Singapore.
One of our first flights to Sudan, featuring retro headphones.
One of my favourite things, and a privilege we lost after 9/11, visiting the pilots in the cockpit.
A good representation of my father’s family in Sudan. We are a jolly bunch.
Beaming with pride in my class at the Islamic College of Brisbane.
The carefree life of a girl enjoying primary school.
It’s official. I have chosen to wear the hijab.
Me, holding my best friend Hafsa’s hand alongside some of her relatives, preparing for a traditional dance at a Pakistani event. I was an honorary Pakistani that night.
Even in primary school I was showing an aptitude for technical drawing. I designed a hutch for my guinea pigs.
I have always kept a diary, but I haven’t always been honest with it … (age 12)
High school days at JPC.
My fellow students when I was studying in Sudan.
My unbeatable UQ car-racing team.
I had the privilege of speaking with His Holiness the Dalai Lama in front of a crowd of thousands at a conference in Sydney.
Receiving the 2010 Young Queenslander of the Year award from Anna Bligh, then premier of Queensland.
Receiving the 2015 Queensland Young Australian of the Year award from then premier Campbell Newman.
Meeting Lewis Hamilton on my first trip as a Formula 1 journalist in Malaysia, with Nico Rosberg doing the sneaky photobomb in the background.
Yes, that is Monaco behind me, home to the world’s most amazing grand prix.
Visiting the Williams HQ on my trip around the UK following my visa disaster.
If it has wheels and moves fast, I probably love it.
Representing Australia and the United Nations Alliance of Civilisations in Vienna, Austria.
Being on the organising committee of the 2014 Youth G20 Summit was an honour and a ball.
My TEDx talk on unconscious bias has proved one of their most popular.
Some of my fav peeps from UN Youth Australia after the Q&A show on International Women’s Day hanging with the Hon Julie Bishop backstage.
Don’t go stereotyping me. Cars are cool, rigs are satisfying and a bit of glamour can be fun.
The launch of the ‘Shinpads and Hijabs’ partne
rship with our local Federal Member Graham Perrett MP, some of the girls from the Islamic College of Brisbane and a couple of national level futsal players.
The Governor-General, herself a Queenslander, is an inspiration to many women, myself included, and has given me great advice over the years.
I was proud to be asked to join the board of Our Watch.
Speaking to schoolkids in Cooktown on a tour of schools as an Australia Day Ambassador.
Life as a field engineer on oil and gas rigs is not always as glamorous as it sounds.
Learning how to swing a tong! Still need to work on my technique …
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Version 1.0
Yassmin’s Story
9780857986160
First published by Vintage in 2016
This edition published by Vintage in 2017
Copyright © Yassmin Abdel-Magied, 2016
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Vintage book
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National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Abdel-Magied, Yassmin, author
Yassmin’s story/Yassmin Abdel-Magied
ISBN 978 0 85798 616 0 (ebook)
Abdel-Magied, Yassmin
Abdel-Magied, Yassmin – Influence
Muslim women – Australia – Biography
Determination (Personality trait)
Role models – Australia
A920.720994
Cover images © Simon Hewson/fa tog’ra fi
Picture section: all images care of Yassmin Abdel-Magied
Cover design by Luke Causby/Blue Cork
Typeset by Peter Guo/LetterSpaced Typesetting
Ebook by Firstsource
Some of the names of people in this book have been changed to protect their privacy.
1 Note that Muslims will always say ‘Peace Be Upon Him’, PBuH, or SAW, the Arabic acronym, after the name of the Prophet Muhammed SAW, to show respect.
Yassmin’s Story Page 31