In Jackson Heights, Queens, on the night before Eid al-Fitr, which marks the end of the Islamic holy month of Ramadan, all five senses are engaged.
The woody but sweet aromas of incense waft into the crisp night air, mixing with the savory steam that rises from nearby halal carts. Sounds of neighbors, exchanging stories and good wishes, emanate from brightly-lit doorways and busy street corners. On the next block, you can feel the pulse of lively Bollywood music and hear the cheerful sounds of children playing. The jingle of chimes can be heard in nearly every direction as shop doors swing open and families happily but hurriedly finish their last-minute food shopping. Nearby, mothers and daughters rifle through racks of bright traditional attire — hijabs, taqiyahs, abayas and salwar kameez — everyone wants to look their best for the holiday.
For the past couple of days, there have also been hundreds of small folding tables, lined up across the neighborhood and covered in decorative fabric. Community members, mostly women — from young art students to seasoned aunties — have sat, curled over, intricately applying henna to the hands and wrists of thousands of Muslim New Yorkers who wish to artfully mark the occasion.
New York City is home to roughly 1 million Muslims, nearly 1 in 8 residents, making it the largest municipal Muslim population in the United States. The city’s highest concentration of Muslims — about 180,000 or 6 percent of the population — lives is in Queens, New York’s most ethnically diverse borough. Muslim New Yorkers are an integral part of densely packed communities like Jackson Heights, Astoria, and Jamaica, reflecting the broader immigrant history of Queens, where residents from over 160 countries coexist across a vibrant landscape.
The night before Eid — spiritually referred to as Laylat al-Ja’iza, or the “Night of Reward”, or culturally called Chaand Raat, or the “Night of the Moon”, in many South Asian cultures — is a time of togetherness, spiritual anticipation, gratitude and joy.
“Eid means getting together with family, getting closer to God, and just building a community where we didn’t have one before,” said one passerby. “Getting my henna done is a reminder of how much beauty the culture holds.”
This year, Documented hit the streets in Queens to speak to community members about what Eid means to them and how they plan to celebrate the end of Ramadan this year. Here’s what they said.
“Eid means waking up to the brightest morning ever, going to different homes with my family, and enjoying a great meal. It is also a reminder of how blessed we are — while recognizing how ruined [the world] is for so many others, with an actual war happening … We need to keep those people in our thoughts and prayers.”
—Avar Khondeker, 18, resident of Elmhurst, Queens
“Eid means a lot to me. I cannot describe it. It means a lot for every Muslim.”
—Bushra Asmaan, 19, and resident Queens
“I am getting my Eid mehendi done with my sisters, my niece and my mom in Jackson Heights. We come here every single Eid. We are celebrating and enjoying the blessings of Ramadan.”
—Nazish Qazi, 30, resident of Rego Park Queens
“Eid, for me, is a very strange time. I am so far from home. I feel isolated … but it does force me to be more close to my faith. It does make me feel excited to be celebrating Eid with my community here.”
—Azzah Sultan, 30
“Always here, every year, to celebrate — not only the Bangladeshi and South Asian community but also, the growing Muslim community. What does Eid mean for me? It is a time for family, for loved ones, to spend time, gather and celebrate over good food and well wishes. Eid Mubarak to all.”
—Queens Assemblyman Steven Raga
The post The Night Before ‘The Brightest Morning Ever’: Celebrating Eid in Queens appeared first on Documented.
