The Woman Who Went To the Front of the Mosque

So there she was, single and pregnant in a country where being so was a crime. Shame from having broken sh aria, or traditional Islamic law, crippled her, she says. She tried to reunite with her boyfriend, but to no avail. She says he encouraged her to have an abortion.

Shortly afterward, she found out that Pearl had been murdered by terrorists, forced to declare "I am a Jew" on videotape before he was beheaded.

"Danny was killed in the name of Islam," she says. "I really know that religion can be used as a source of destruction, but I believe religion can inspire us. But it's been so twisted."

She returned home to her parents' embrace. On Oct. 16, 2002, nine months after Pearl's disappearance, she gave birth to her son. She named him Shibli Daneel Nomani. Shibli, which means "lion cub," for her ancestor, Shibli Nomani, a famous Indian scholar who'd fought for Muslim reform. And Daneel, to honor her slain friend.

But Islam drew her back. She and her family made a pilgrimage to Mecca. There, with 3-month-old Shibli strapped to her chest, she saw men and women praying together, side by side, in the Masjid al-Haram, the Sacred Mosque.

And that's where her problems with her mosque back home began.

If men and women could pray as one in Saudi Arabia, one of the most restrictive countries for women, why couldn't it happen in Morgantown?

The Back Door

Father and daughter are heading to the mosque, running a little late for Friday afternoon prayers.

They're rolling up and down the hills of West Virginia, country and western twanging on the radio, dad riding shotgun, both pointing out the sights and providing a running commentary. On the right, that's the hospital where she gave birth. Over there is the mosque, where she taped her "99 Precepts." And there , says Zafar Nomani, pointing, "is the infamous back door" -- the door his daughter refuses to enter.

Like on most days, Nomani is not wearing a head scarf today, something she says irritates the powers that be here. (It should be noted that she is wearing a delicate white head scarf on the cover of her latest book, "Standing Alone in Mecca: An American Woman's Struggle for the Soul of Islam.") She does, however, cover her head by yanking her fuchsia hoodie over her hair, as she does whenever she enters the mosque.

"I call it my ghetto hijab ," she says, just before she walks through the main door, pausing to take off her shoes before heading to the cavernous main hall, where, save for a reporter, she will be the lone woman among 100 or so men saying prayers. Only one will acknowledge her, at the end of services, pausing to wave hello as he takes off, engrossed in a cell phone call.

She is used to this. Still, it rankles.

"I used to come every day," she says, "but it feels so unfriendly, so inhospitable. So now I just come on Fridays."

Prayers on Front Lawn

Nomani's fight continues. She'll get kicked out of a mosque in Seattle. An older woman will grab her by the arm and try to drag her out of a Los Angeles mosque. She'll be escorted out of a mosque in New York. She'll kneel outside, on the sidewalk, saying her prayers.

But for now, after Friday prayers at the mosque, she sits on the front lawn with her family, a blanket spread out under them, the Koran at her side.

Earlier her father had said, "Muhammad was one of the greatest feminists. Islam first gave rights to women 1,400 years ago. . . . When I see Islam today and the way people behave towards women, I am very sad. I am for women's rights, respect, women's equality. Islam teaches that."

Now he sits and smiles as he watches his daughter lead the family in prayer. They stand up, little Shibli joining them, bending and bowing in the sun.