Recommended listening: Jardín de Al-Andalus by Eduardo Paniagua
Story
On a sunny day in the magnificent city of Córdoba, two women share a joke in a library. In a city full of intelligent, educated, and influential women, they are the two who topped the list: Fātima bint Zakariyyā' ibn 'Abd Allāh al-Kātib, and 'Ā'isha bint Ahmad ibn Muhammad ibn Qādim al-Qurtubiyya. Each played a leading role in the intellectual life of Córdoba at a time when its rulers patronized the arts so enthusiastically that it was home to some of the largest libraries in the world. They came from very different backgrounds, but they were both at the heart of Córdoba's rich culture.
Fātima came from a family of scribes who served the Umayyad caliphs. Although they were slaves of non-Arab origin, they had converted to Islam and held high positions at court. Like her father and grandfather before her, Fātima trained in the art of calligraphy so that she could copy important manuscripts, both sacred and secular, at court. In the 10th century, hundreds of women worked as scribes in Córdoba copying everything from the Quran to scientific treatises. While these roles were prestigious enough, Fātima performed even more elite duties for the caliph. She was said to be an expert in cryptography, writing coded messages in her beautiful and precise handwriting.
The caliph al-Hakam II, who reigned from 961 to 976, took special notice of Fātima's talents. Al-Hakam II was perhaps the greatest patron of the arts that Córdoba ever saw. He ordered the translation of countless texts from Latin and Greek into Arabic and formed a special committee of Muslims and Christians to oversee the task. He invited scholars from all over the Muslim world to come and study at his court, and new books were dedicated to him as far away as Persia. Thousands of books were imported into Córdoba, becoming one of the most precious trade items that elites of the city sought after. His library was said to have over 400,000 books and was the largest library in Europe at the time. The caliph had a deep personal investment in the library and spent countless hours poring over the pages, making notes in the margins. In fact, al-Hakam was so dedicated to learning that it's said he left the governance of his kingdom to his wife Subh, preferring to spend time with scholars (and his male harem).
But al-Hakam did not manage the library himself: For that, he employed Fātima. Along with a eunuch called Tālid and an enslaved Spanish secretary called Lubna, Fātima was put in charge of the royal library. This was an incredibly important responsibility. As one of the chief librarians, Fātima was not only in charge of Great Library, but all other libraries the caliph had founded which may have numbered as many as seventy. One of her chief duties was to organize the library as new titles poured in from all over the known world. Fātima devised a cataloguing system that organised books by date, theme, and place of origin. Thanks to her precise work, scholars could come and easily find what they were looking for in the library.
Sometimes her duties as librarian called Fātima far from Córdoba. While Lubna and Tālid took care of things on the home front, Fātima ventured out to the book markets of Baghdad, Constantinople, Cairo, Samarkand and Damascus. Crossing massive distances across empires from the Fatimid to the Byzantine, Fātima sought out rare books to buy for the caliph's growing library. Sometimes she bought them and took them all the way back to Córdoba; other times she copied on the spot, making use of her calligraphy skills in the field. When she brought them back, she shelved them according to her cataloguing system so that generations of future scholars could benefit from her work.
By the year 1000, her colleague Lubna had passed away. Lubna was a gifted scientist and mathematician, so the two had no doubt spent many lively evenings over the years discussing and debating the materials that came into the library. But with Lubna gone, Fātima still had other learned women with whom she could pass the time. One of these was 'Ā'isha bint Ahmad ibn Muhammad ibn Qādim. Unlike Fātima, 'Ā'isha came from an Arab family of free scholars. A skilled poet, 'Ā'isha had close relationships with the caliphs of Córdoba, calling in favours whenever she needed and repaying them with lavish praise poetry. She inherited incredible wealth which she used to build up her own personal library. In addition to poetry, she had a great passion for science and collected books on the subject from all over the Muslim world.
Like Fātima, 'Ā'isha was renowned for her calligraphy. She copied out religious texts like the Quran but also notebooks full of scientific observations and poetry. Although there is no historical record of Fātima and 'Ā'isha meeting, it's hard to believe that two such similar women of high rank in the capital of al-Andalus would not have met. It's easy to imagine 'Ā'isha taking a keen interest in Fātima's work abroad, perhaps even deploying Fātima to buy books on her behalf. O. Ishaq Tijani and Imed Nsiri have argued that the many fragments of information about learned women from this period suggest strongly that there was a vibrant female literary sub-culture in al-Andalus, which our male-authored biographies give us only the most tantalizing glimpses of.
Another thing that Fātima and 'Ā'isha had in common is that neither ever married. Both were said to have died virgins, an uncommon biographical note for women of medieval Islam who had no equivalent to the Christian nun. Some famous women scholars of al-Andalus, such as the later 11th century poet Wallada bint al-Mustafki, did not marry either, but took many lovers both male and female. Such an option would have certainly been open to 'Ā'isha given her high status, and Fātima too could have married if she had wanted to. Many women of equivalent rank and education throughout the history of Islamic Spain did. But for whatever reason, neither 'Ā'isha nor Fātima had any desire to marry or even engage in love affairs.
In fact, 'Ā'isha's most famous poem makes her lack of interest in marriage abundantly clear. One of only a handful of her poems that survives, it was written in response to a proposal of marriage from a male poet. Written, perhaps, in the playful spirit of sparring common for poetic exchanges between men and women, it nevertheless makes her opinion of her suitor plain:
I am a lioness
and will never allow my body
to be anyone's resting place. But if I did,
I wouldn't yield to a dog ─
And O! The lions I've turned away!
This blistering rejection has been forever burned into history. While the name of the rejected suitor does not survive, 'Ā'isha's defiant assertion of her independence resonates powerfully today. Far from being indifferent to marriage, 'Ā'isha flat-out rejected it, and not just once. Such a fierce repudiation of marriage can't help but interest the modern reader. While 'Ā'isha was far from the only medieval Muslim woman to eschew marriage, such as the Persian scholar Karīma al-Marwaziyya, they were certainly in the minority, and it's incredibly rare to have a woman's opinion on her single status like this preserved. Sahar Amer has argued that stories of unmarried women in medieval Islam are places where we may look to find evidence of "lesbian-like" or queer women in a culture that was far more open to female sexuality than it is often given credit for. Medieval Arabic had a word for lesbians, sahiqat, and there are many stories of women who loved women in Islamic literature. When it comes to 'Ā'isha's poem, however, the modern queer identities that it has the most in common with are probably asexuality and aromanticism. While we can't project contemporary categories of sexuality back onto a past that drew the lines in different places, 'Ā'isha's happiness in being single is certainly something that asexual and aromantic people can relate to today.
In this illustration, 'Ā'isha is entertaining her friend Fātima with a rendition of that famous poem. Fātima, happy to be home after another long journey out to foreign book markets, laughs heartily even though she has heard the story plenty of times before. As a woman who would remain unmarried until her death at the ripe old age of ninety-four, Fātima must have been able to relate to the sentiments expressed so succinctly in the poem. A cat a little less fierce than 'Ā'isha's lioness sleeps beside them, theoretically guarding the shelves from mice. This was the much-beloved role of cats in medieval Muslim societies that cherished their books. Fātima had travelled the world in pursuit of books, but sometimes it was nice to just sit with a friend in a familiar place and laugh.
Fātima came from a family of scribes who served the Umayyad caliphs. Although they were slaves of non-Arab origin, they had converted to Islam and held high positions at court. Like her father and grandfather before her, Fātima trained in the art of calligraphy so that she could copy important manuscripts, both sacred and secular, at court. In the 10th century, hundreds of women worked as scribes in Córdoba copying everything from the Quran to scientific treatises. While these roles were prestigious enough, Fātima performed even more elite duties for the caliph. She was said to be an expert in cryptography, writing coded messages in her beautiful and precise handwriting.
The caliph al-Hakam II, who reigned from 961 to 976, took special notice of Fātima's talents. Al-Hakam II was perhaps the greatest patron of the arts that Córdoba ever saw. He ordered the translation of countless texts from Latin and Greek into Arabic and formed a special committee of Muslims and Christians to oversee the task. He invited scholars from all over the Muslim world to come and study at his court, and new books were dedicated to him as far away as Persia. Thousands of books were imported into Córdoba, becoming one of the most precious trade items that elites of the city sought after. His library was said to have over 400,000 books and was the largest library in Europe at the time. The caliph had a deep personal investment in the library and spent countless hours poring over the pages, making notes in the margins. In fact, al-Hakam was so dedicated to learning that it's said he left the governance of his kingdom to his wife Subh, preferring to spend time with scholars (and his male harem).
But al-Hakam did not manage the library himself: For that, he employed Fātima. Along with a eunuch called Tālid and an enslaved Spanish secretary called Lubna, Fātima was put in charge of the royal library. This was an incredibly important responsibility. As one of the chief librarians, Fātima was not only in charge of Great Library, but all other libraries the caliph had founded which may have numbered as many as seventy. One of her chief duties was to organize the library as new titles poured in from all over the known world. Fātima devised a cataloguing system that organised books by date, theme, and place of origin. Thanks to her precise work, scholars could come and easily find what they were looking for in the library.
Sometimes her duties as librarian called Fātima far from Córdoba. While Lubna and Tālid took care of things on the home front, Fātima ventured out to the book markets of Baghdad, Constantinople, Cairo, Samarkand and Damascus. Crossing massive distances across empires from the Fatimid to the Byzantine, Fātima sought out rare books to buy for the caliph's growing library. Sometimes she bought them and took them all the way back to Córdoba; other times she copied on the spot, making use of her calligraphy skills in the field. When she brought them back, she shelved them according to her cataloguing system so that generations of future scholars could benefit from her work.
By the year 1000, her colleague Lubna had passed away. Lubna was a gifted scientist and mathematician, so the two had no doubt spent many lively evenings over the years discussing and debating the materials that came into the library. But with Lubna gone, Fātima still had other learned women with whom she could pass the time. One of these was 'Ā'isha bint Ahmad ibn Muhammad ibn Qādim. Unlike Fātima, 'Ā'isha came from an Arab family of free scholars. A skilled poet, 'Ā'isha had close relationships with the caliphs of Córdoba, calling in favours whenever she needed and repaying them with lavish praise poetry. She inherited incredible wealth which she used to build up her own personal library. In addition to poetry, she had a great passion for science and collected books on the subject from all over the Muslim world.
Like Fātima, 'Ā'isha was renowned for her calligraphy. She copied out religious texts like the Quran but also notebooks full of scientific observations and poetry. Although there is no historical record of Fātima and 'Ā'isha meeting, it's hard to believe that two such similar women of high rank in the capital of al-Andalus would not have met. It's easy to imagine 'Ā'isha taking a keen interest in Fātima's work abroad, perhaps even deploying Fātima to buy books on her behalf. O. Ishaq Tijani and Imed Nsiri have argued that the many fragments of information about learned women from this period suggest strongly that there was a vibrant female literary sub-culture in al-Andalus, which our male-authored biographies give us only the most tantalizing glimpses of.
Another thing that Fātima and 'Ā'isha had in common is that neither ever married. Both were said to have died virgins, an uncommon biographical note for women of medieval Islam who had no equivalent to the Christian nun. Some famous women scholars of al-Andalus, such as the later 11th century poet Wallada bint al-Mustafki, did not marry either, but took many lovers both male and female. Such an option would have certainly been open to 'Ā'isha given her high status, and Fātima too could have married if she had wanted to. Many women of equivalent rank and education throughout the history of Islamic Spain did. But for whatever reason, neither 'Ā'isha nor Fātima had any desire to marry or even engage in love affairs.
In fact, 'Ā'isha's most famous poem makes her lack of interest in marriage abundantly clear. One of only a handful of her poems that survives, it was written in response to a proposal of marriage from a male poet. Written, perhaps, in the playful spirit of sparring common for poetic exchanges between men and women, it nevertheless makes her opinion of her suitor plain:
I am a lioness
and will never allow my body
to be anyone's resting place. But if I did,
I wouldn't yield to a dog ─
And O! The lions I've turned away!
This blistering rejection has been forever burned into history. While the name of the rejected suitor does not survive, 'Ā'isha's defiant assertion of her independence resonates powerfully today. Far from being indifferent to marriage, 'Ā'isha flat-out rejected it, and not just once. Such a fierce repudiation of marriage can't help but interest the modern reader. While 'Ā'isha was far from the only medieval Muslim woman to eschew marriage, such as the Persian scholar Karīma al-Marwaziyya, they were certainly in the minority, and it's incredibly rare to have a woman's opinion on her single status like this preserved. Sahar Amer has argued that stories of unmarried women in medieval Islam are places where we may look to find evidence of "lesbian-like" or queer women in a culture that was far more open to female sexuality than it is often given credit for. Medieval Arabic had a word for lesbians, sahiqat, and there are many stories of women who loved women in Islamic literature. When it comes to 'Ā'isha's poem, however, the modern queer identities that it has the most in common with are probably asexuality and aromanticism. While we can't project contemporary categories of sexuality back onto a past that drew the lines in different places, 'Ā'isha's happiness in being single is certainly something that asexual and aromantic people can relate to today.
In this illustration, 'Ā'isha is entertaining her friend Fātima with a rendition of that famous poem. Fātima, happy to be home after another long journey out to foreign book markets, laughs heartily even though she has heard the story plenty of times before. As a woman who would remain unmarried until her death at the ripe old age of ninety-four, Fātima must have been able to relate to the sentiments expressed so succinctly in the poem. A cat a little less fierce than 'Ā'isha's lioness sleeps beside them, theoretically guarding the shelves from mice. This was the much-beloved role of cats in medieval Muslim societies that cherished their books. Fātima had travelled the world in pursuit of books, but sometimes it was nice to just sit with a friend in a familiar place and laugh.
Artist's Comments
Finally, a Women of 1000 picture set in al-Andalus! I have wanted to draw women of Córdoba since I first started this project and fell in love with this world of learning. It just took me so long to narrow down who to draw! I didn't realise until after I finished the illustration that the Fātima who was the scribe and calligrapher who lived to age ninety-four was the same Fātima who bought books for the library. I have long planned to draw that Fātima out in Damascus buying books, but now I've learned that I've already drawn her since they are one and the same! Thanks to Morgan for helping me figure that out while I was doing this write-up and trying to make sense of the Spanish secondary sources. Special love also for my cats Poe and Loki, who insisted on sitting on me in shifts while I worked on this picture.
I particularly liked getting to show the henna on their hands based on images from Anadalusian manuscripts a few centuries later. And it was great to draw 'Ā'isha in her library after imagining her there so many times. Córdoba in the 10th century was full of learned women (and queer people!) so I hope to return to this setting again for a future illustration. ~ May 20, 2021
I particularly liked getting to show the henna on their hands based on images from Anadalusian manuscripts a few centuries later. And it was great to draw 'Ā'isha in her library after imagining her there so many times. Córdoba in the 10th century was full of learned women (and queer people!) so I hope to return to this setting again for a future illustration. ~ May 20, 2021
Resources
Want to learn more about Fātima, 'Ā'isha, and other learned women of al-Andalus? Here are some recommended resources.
"'Ā'isha bt. Ahmad al-Qurtubiyya" by María Luisa Ávila in Encyclopaedia of Islam
A great biographical entry about 'Ā'isha with references to further reading about her, some of which are also listed below.
"Las Mujeres 'Sabías' en Al-Andalus" by María Luisa Ávila
This is an extensive catalogue of all the known learned women in medieval al-Andalus. This is where I found out about Fātima and is the only article where I've been able to find information about her life.
Poesía Femenina Hispanárabe by María Jesús Rubiera Mata
Here you will find translations of 'Ā'isha's surviving poetry into Spanish. Many other women poets' works are similarly translated, with a brief biographical introduction for each woman.
""This Still Flickering Light": Reading and Teaching the Women Poets of Al-Andalus" by Lourdres María Álvarez
This article provides an overview in English of the importance of women poets in Al-Andalus and their place in English and Spanish historiography. Álvarez advocates for the inclusion of these poets in surveys of Spanish literature, situating them within contemporary controversies over the status of women in Islam.
"Gender and Poetry in Muslim Spain: Mapping the Sexual-Textual Politics of Al-Andalus" by O. Ishaq Tijani and Imed Nsiri
Another English article that looks at how women poets exerted their agency in the male-dominated society of al-Andalus. The authors argue that there was a female literary sub-culture there that was more vibrant than what has been documented in the male-authored texts that serve as our sources. They also talk about the importance of sparring, verbal poetic games which were often conducted between men and women. I think 'Ā'isha's famous poem fits into this category. Women used their poetry for a variety of purposes such as critiquing or praising rulers, conducting love affairs, or satirizing their peers.
"Librarians, rebels, property owners, slaves: Women in al-Andalus" by Kamila Shamsie
Speaking of controversies, this article tackles head-on the issue of how the women of al-Andalus have long been part of arguments about the nature of Muslim Spain. There are some writers who have tried to argue that women had an enlightened, liberated status in al-Andalus compared to other Muslim countries because of Christian influence. This, of course, undermines the inherent potential within Islam for women to have relative independence and freedom. On the other hand, Shamsie looks at how the evidence for al-Andalus being an overall very patriarchal society forces us to reconsider triumphantly feminist Islamic viewpoints on the era such as those of Fatima Mernissi. Basically, the women of al-Andalus have been used by both sides of the arguments over Muslim Spain's heritage, and Shamsie lays out clearly how this has happened and what evidence we do have for the status of women in al-Andalus, particularly with regards to property and inheritance law. It strikes me as a balanced take on the issue.
"Personajes ilustrados del al-Andalus" by Casa Árabe
This handout has profiles of several Andalusian figures from history, including Fātima. It was this document that made me realise the two Fātimas I'd been reading about were the same person! I didn't find this until after I'd finished the picture and was doing the write-up, but they have a cute illustration of Fātima that shows a different interpretation of what she might have looked like.
"The Historical Context of Arabic Translation, Learning, and the Libraries of Medieval Andalusia" by Chris Prince
To get more background on the context of learning in the culture of 10th century Córdoba, check out this article. There's great information in there about the love of books in Córdoba and the importance of librarians and scribes.
"Medieval Arab Lesbians and Lesbian-Like Women" by Sahar Amer
In this excellent article about the under-studied and often hidden histories of lesbians in the medieval Islamic world, Amer mostly focuses on relationships between women that are explicitly, or can be construed as, sexual or romantic. However, she also highlights the potential for queer (or, as she says, "lesbian-like") readings of women who never married in a society where that would almost always be expected. Since both Fātima and 'Ā'isha remained unmarried, and both are said to have remained virgins (as opposed to the unmarried but actively bisexual Wallada bint al-Mustafki), I think Amer's methodology opens up the possibility that Fātima and/or 'Ā'isha might have experienced something akin to today's asexuality.
"'Ā'isha bt. Ahmad al-Qurtubiyya" by María Luisa Ávila in Encyclopaedia of Islam
A great biographical entry about 'Ā'isha with references to further reading about her, some of which are also listed below.
"Las Mujeres 'Sabías' en Al-Andalus" by María Luisa Ávila
This is an extensive catalogue of all the known learned women in medieval al-Andalus. This is where I found out about Fātima and is the only article where I've been able to find information about her life.
Poesía Femenina Hispanárabe by María Jesús Rubiera Mata
Here you will find translations of 'Ā'isha's surviving poetry into Spanish. Many other women poets' works are similarly translated, with a brief biographical introduction for each woman.
""This Still Flickering Light": Reading and Teaching the Women Poets of Al-Andalus" by Lourdres María Álvarez
This article provides an overview in English of the importance of women poets in Al-Andalus and their place in English and Spanish historiography. Álvarez advocates for the inclusion of these poets in surveys of Spanish literature, situating them within contemporary controversies over the status of women in Islam.
"Gender and Poetry in Muslim Spain: Mapping the Sexual-Textual Politics of Al-Andalus" by O. Ishaq Tijani and Imed Nsiri
Another English article that looks at how women poets exerted their agency in the male-dominated society of al-Andalus. The authors argue that there was a female literary sub-culture there that was more vibrant than what has been documented in the male-authored texts that serve as our sources. They also talk about the importance of sparring, verbal poetic games which were often conducted between men and women. I think 'Ā'isha's famous poem fits into this category. Women used their poetry for a variety of purposes such as critiquing or praising rulers, conducting love affairs, or satirizing their peers.
"Librarians, rebels, property owners, slaves: Women in al-Andalus" by Kamila Shamsie
Speaking of controversies, this article tackles head-on the issue of how the women of al-Andalus have long been part of arguments about the nature of Muslim Spain. There are some writers who have tried to argue that women had an enlightened, liberated status in al-Andalus compared to other Muslim countries because of Christian influence. This, of course, undermines the inherent potential within Islam for women to have relative independence and freedom. On the other hand, Shamsie looks at how the evidence for al-Andalus being an overall very patriarchal society forces us to reconsider triumphantly feminist Islamic viewpoints on the era such as those of Fatima Mernissi. Basically, the women of al-Andalus have been used by both sides of the arguments over Muslim Spain's heritage, and Shamsie lays out clearly how this has happened and what evidence we do have for the status of women in al-Andalus, particularly with regards to property and inheritance law. It strikes me as a balanced take on the issue.
"Personajes ilustrados del al-Andalus" by Casa Árabe
This handout has profiles of several Andalusian figures from history, including Fātima. It was this document that made me realise the two Fātimas I'd been reading about were the same person! I didn't find this until after I'd finished the picture and was doing the write-up, but they have a cute illustration of Fātima that shows a different interpretation of what she might have looked like.
"The Historical Context of Arabic Translation, Learning, and the Libraries of Medieval Andalusia" by Chris Prince
To get more background on the context of learning in the culture of 10th century Córdoba, check out this article. There's great information in there about the love of books in Córdoba and the importance of librarians and scribes.
"Medieval Arab Lesbians and Lesbian-Like Women" by Sahar Amer
In this excellent article about the under-studied and often hidden histories of lesbians in the medieval Islamic world, Amer mostly focuses on relationships between women that are explicitly, or can be construed as, sexual or romantic. However, she also highlights the potential for queer (or, as she says, "lesbian-like") readings of women who never married in a society where that would almost always be expected. Since both Fātima and 'Ā'isha remained unmarried, and both are said to have remained virgins (as opposed to the unmarried but actively bisexual Wallada bint al-Mustafki), I think Amer's methodology opens up the possibility that Fātima and/or 'Ā'isha might have experienced something akin to today's asexuality.