Pakistani Woman Runs Boston Yet Again for Dr. Aafia Siddiqui - Letter to the Boston Globe

Almost immediately after running the 2019 Boston Marathon, I wrote to the Boston Globe expressing my concerns about political prisoner Dr. Aafia Siddiqui. I received the Globe's automated reply, stating the requirements—word limit, copyright (the letter could not have been published elsewhere), and writer identification—which had to be met for a letter to be considered for publication, along with the proclamation that a letter which didn’t appear in print within ten days had likely not been selected for publication. It didn't. I was disappointed that the Globe would not publish it, if only for the novelty of a crazy Pakistani woman running yet another 26.2 miles in the name of a political prisoner. I felt I had adhered to all of the publication criteria. But—I was not at all surprised, considering the paper's previous heavily slanted reporting on Aafia's case. My (unpublished) letter to the Globe read as follows:

April 16, 2019

Letters to the Editor

The Boston Globe

1 Exchange Place, Suite 201

Boston, MA 02109-2132

letter@globe.com

Dear editor,

In the field of 26,632 people running the Boston Marathon on Monday, I was one of very few (perhaps the only) Pakistani women to take on the daunting course. A time-qualified entrant, my current and penultimate marathon PRs are 3:41 (NCR Trail Marathon) and 3:42 (Baltimore Marathon), both set within the last five years. At age 50, I am pleased to say Boston 2019 was my 42nd marathon (my second time running it).

I ran Boston to call attention to the plight of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, a Pakistani Muslim woman neuroscientist, degreed by the prestigious M.I.T.  Aafia once lived and studied in the beautiful city of Boston.

Today she is imprisoned in Texas, having first been kidnapped by authorities in Pakistan. This occurred during the period when “secret renditions” were common in Pakistan, then her place of residence. Aafia was tortured and likely raped in prison in Pakistan and Afghanistan. After that, she was brought to New York, and put on trial.

Previously very healthy and vibrant, the petite neuroscientist was wheeled into court in a wheelchair by her jailors. The court disallowed nearly all exculpatory evidence which could have helped her, but allowed highly conflicting and emotional (anti-Muslim) evidence to be presented.  Soon, Aafia was convicted and sent to FMC Carswell.

The unspeakable injustice being done to this woman is the reason I braved the pouring rain, and then the midday heat to run my second Boston Marathon. It was one of the most challenging of the 42 marathons I’ve run, and my finish time did not remotely approach either my PR, or my qualifying time. The only saving grace was that I did not resort to walking, not even on Heart Break Hill.

My reason for running made it all worthwhile. Aafia, or Behan Aafia (our sister Aafia), as we Pakistanis call her. In Pakistan, there is near universal sentiment that she is innocent and ought to be released.

My tee bore the words “Free Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, along with a picture of her cherubic face in hijab. It drew occasional questions from fellow marathoners, and I was happy to share her story as we tackled hill after hill.

In a period when women’s rights have finally and appropriately gained center stage, why is the violation of rights of this innocent Pakistani woman allowed to continue? She has already endured 16 years of unjust imprisonment. I urge women’s rights organizations and movements, politicians, humanitarians, and media to look into her case, and to call for her immediate release.

Nadrat Siddique

#FreeAafiaSiddiqui #FreeAllPoliticalPrisoners #BostonMarathon

Running While Muslim, Running for Aafia

By Nadrat Siddique

Special to the New Trend

It was Patriot’s Day Monday in Boston, and I ran through torrential rain from my hotel to the Boston Common two miles away. I was there to run my second Boston Marathon, calling attention to the case of a small, slight Pakistani Muslim woman neuroscientist, being held political prisoner by the United States. Her name is Dr. Aafia Siddiqui.

Boston is very odd as far as marathons go, for three reasons. For one, unlike nearly all other races, which are held on the weekend, Boston is held on a Monday. And that Monday is nowhere a holiday except in Boston.

Secondly, the race starts for most runners—depending on one’s assigned start time—around 10:30 or 11:00 a.m., very late by racing standards. Nearly all other races start around 7:00 or 8:00 a.m., with some starting as early as 6:00 a.m., both to avoid the heat of the day, and to minimize traffic blockages. The late start means that a majority of Boston Marathon runners do the bulk of their running in the afternoon heat, which raises the specter of serious health risk.

The third major oddity about Boston is that the course is one-way, as opposed to a loop, or multiple loops, like most marathons. On race morning, we runners gathered at the Boston Common to be bused to the tiny town of Hopkinton, approximately 26 miles west of the city.  Once there, in what seemed a no-man’s land, we were, at our assigned time, to run our way back to Boston. In between were a multitude of colleges, hills, and screaming fans. The fans lined every mile of the course, making the race extremely boisterous. It is decidedly not the place for an introvert. The runners were overwhelmingly White, as were most of the fans. There were, relatively speaking, a small number of Asian and light-skinned Latino runners.

The race was sponsored by the financial giant John Hancock. The founding father’s name was everywhere, proudly plastered on our marathon medals, mylar blankets (reflective blankets given to runners post-race to prevent hypothermia), and other marathon paraphernalia and memorabilia. There was no discussion of the fact that Hancock, like the other founding fathers, was a slave owner.

In the Boston Common, we runners went through a checkpoint, to get to the yellow school buses which would carry us to the race start. We were told precisely what type of bag (clear plastic) could be carried on the buses. Grateful to be out of the rain, we boarded the buses under the direction of volunteers. The twenty-six mile bus trip took close to an hour. It provided a welcome opportunity for runners to dry off.

Once in the very white Hopkinton, we went through an additional checkpoint to the starting area. Repeatedly, it was emphasized that only the clear plastic bags provided by the race organizers could be used for bag check (ie to allow runners to leave essential items needed after the race in a common but secured holding area). Automated announcements repeated ad naseum that unattended bags (along the course) would be confiscated by authorities and might be destroyed. A large number of metropolitan police, as well as some military police with submachines (the number of the latter had diminished significantly since the 2017 race, which I’d run) lined the course. Army snipers were positioned on rooftops in Hopkinton and at various points along the course.

Many of the athletes represented corporate teams. These names, e.g. Dana Farber, were pre-printed on runners’ singlets (sleeveless running shirts). As I ran, I heard the corporate names yelled out frequently by spectators, far more often than individual names. To me, this was yet another indicator of the stranglehold of corporate culture in the U.S. At many smaller races, spectators call out runner’s names (sometimes printed on the runners bibs) as they pass. Or, they call out the runners’ bib numbers, or other identifying nouns based on runners’ attire to encourage them. Not so at Boston. Unlike at previous races where I’ve worn the same shirt, nary a person yelled for me, “Go Aafia!”

Some runners ran in memory of a deceased family member, whose name they wore on their shirt. A few had country affiliation on their shirts. The most interesting were the visually impaired runners. According to statistics which I read later on the race website, these numbered 44, and required a guide companion. Each runner/ guide pair held opposite ends of what looked like a connecting plastic bag to keep them together, with the guide wearing a tee saying “Blind Runner.”

No other runners, as far as I could tell by observation and later research, ran for a political prisoner. And this year, like the last, there appeared to be few, if any other Pakistani women. As I said the last time I ran Boston, I could only run this race for Aafia. It pained me, as I ran past the turnoff to M.I.T., where Aafia had once studied, to think of this petite woman, beloved mother of three, and star scholar, suffering in a tiny Texas prison cell for a crime she clearly did not commit. But—what pained me the most was that Muslims, even those who knew her during her time in the U.S., and all Muslim organizations, except for Jamaat al-Muslimeen and the Aafia Foundation, were willfully silent on her suffering. And silence is still complicity.

By now, I have run two National (Washington DC) Marathons, a Chicago Marathon, and two Boston Marathons in Aafia’s name. (All told, I have run 42 marathons, but many of them have been for my own personal edification/ challenge, which I also view as important.) I am obviously not a professional athlete, or particularly fast. My best mile time is 7:18, run at the International 5K in Columbia, MD, where I represented Pakistan (unofficially).

I am not paid by anyone to run for Aafia or other political prisoners. I run for them because I believe it is a fundamental part of my faith, Islam, to stand up for the oppressed.

The Qur’an says in Surat-ul Balad, “And what is the Ascent? It is to free a slave.” I view it as my responsibility to fight for the freedom of the modern day slaves, the political prisoners, whose existence, while denied by the U.S. government, is an unfortunate reality under the system of White Supremacy and the congruous imperialist wars.

In that capacity, I traveled to the Black Hills (SD) and Plymouth (MA), to run for Leonard Peltier; to Salt Lake City (UT) and Hyannis (MA), and to run for Mumia Abu Jamal (Black Panther political prisoner); to Chicago to run for Aafia; to Wilmington to run for (then-) Bradley Manning (Wikileaks whistleblower turned political prisoner); and now again to Boston to run for Aafia. There is always a way to speak out when grave injustice is occurring, however one chooses to do it. And for me, it is through running.

#FreeAafiaSiddiqui #FreeAllPoliticalPrisoners #BostonMarathon2019 #RunningForJustice

© 2019 Nadrat Siddique

This article first appeared in New Trend, April 21, 2019

Running the Boston Marathon for Pakistani Women’s Rights

(Or in particular, for the rights of an outstanding Pakistani woman political prisoner)

April 22, 2017

Letters to the Editor

The Boston Globe

PO Box 55819

Boston, MA 02205-5819

Dear editor,

Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, a Pakistani neuroscientist, once attended MIT on full scholarship. She completed studies in biological sciences, and went on to do her PhD in cognitive neuroscience at Brandeis University, successfully completing it despite being in an abusive marriage (with a Pakistani from whom she later divorced). Her PhD focused on helping dyslexic and otherwise learning disabled children. Today she languishes in a U.S. federal penitentiary, a political prisoner for whom tens of thousands of Pakistanis demonstrate regularly on the streets of London, Karachi, Islamabad, and Peshawar.

I am a Pakistani woman athlete who has run 31 marathons in nine years (including seventeen sub-4 hour marathons). The case of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, who had adopted Boston as her home for over a decade, was so compelling that I could not run America’s oldest marathon except in her name. So, on Patriots Day 2017, I ran my first Boston Marathon in an attempt to draw attention to the egregious human rights violations against this innocent Pakistani Muslim woman.

As I stood in the Boston Commons on race morning, waiting with other runners to board the bus to the race start in Hopkinton, I could picture the slight and slender Aafia among the other doctors, scientists, and health professionals who were among the 27,000 athletes running Boston this year. Instead, Aafia occupied a tiny holding cell at the United States Penitentiary at Fort Worth, completely cut off from her family and community, her health gravely impugned by 14 years of political imprisonment.

She was arrested in Islamabad in a joint U.S.-Pakistani intelligence operation in 2003, one of many innocents caught up in a broad net of politically-motivated, arbitrary, or misplaced arrests during the “War on Terror.” At first, Aafia’s captivity was kept a secret by her captors. This lasted about five years. In flagrant violation of the Geneva Convention, Aafia’s captors refused to acknowledge her presence within the prison system, allowing them to act with complete impunity towards her. She spent part of her captivity at the U.S. Air Force Base in Baghram, Afghanistan, where she was known as “Prisoner 650.” During this time, Aafia was denied proper medical treatment, and repeatedly tortured and raped.

Two of Aafia’s young children, Ahmed and Mariam, were arrested and imprisoned along with her in violation of Geneva Convention stipulations on the detention of children. Like Aafia, they were not entered in any prison registry. Much later, Ahmed and Mariam were released and ordered not to reveal anything about their captivity.

In 2008, Aafia’s captors finally acknowledged that they were holding her, and she was sent to the U.S. to face charges. Her trial was held in a Manhattan courtroom beset by fears of terrorism. She appeared in a wheelchair, displaying signs of having been tortured. Bizarrely, the 110-pound, 5’2’’ Pakistani neuroscientist was charged with the assault and attempted murder of seven U.S. servicemen in Afghanistan.

Despite grave contradictions in the prosecution’s case, and clearly exculpatory evidence in Aafia’s favor, she was convicted and sentenced to 86 years.

On Monday, I ran the Boston Marathon in honor of Aafia, who did so many great things while in Boston. The front of my race tee-shirt bore her image with the words “Free Dr. Aafia.” The back of the tee read “Prisoner 650,” a reference to the early period of Aafia’s captivity when she was held secretly in Baghram. Throughout the race, I met many wonderful race volunteers and runners who were students at MIT. I wondered how many of them knew of their government’s abuse of a Pakistani woman scientist who had sat in the same classroom as them.

Aafia’s case is a glaring example of the government’s disregard for due process, human rights, women’s rights, civil rights, prisoners’ rights, and children’s rights. It is my hope that women’s rights groups and civil libertarians in the U.S. will call for her release. These groups have vociferously and consistently opposed the oppression of Muslim women and girls in cases like that of Malalai Yousufzai, the Chibok girls in Nigeria; and in cases of honor killings. If they are act on principle and not politics, they must speak out for Dr. Aafia Siddiqui.

-Nadrat Siddique

We Did it for Aafia

By Nadrat Siddique

Training for a marathon (26.2 mile race) is a months-long process, very different from casual running for fitness.

In the lengthy preparation for a marathon, many things can happen to derail one’s training:  With 8 weeks left before the 2017 Boston Marathon (held in April), I developed a looming shin splint. I addressed it immediately, switching over to walking and low impact workouts at the gym for about three weeks.

Then, with 7 weeks left before Boston, I woke up one morning with shingles (I had chicken pox as a child). This lasted about two weeks.

Then, about 5 weeks before the marathon, my 26-year old stepbrother passed away. His sudden and tragic death deeply affected the family, and for me, brought back many memories of the death of my child, Hanzela, who died a SIDS death in his second month. At that point, I decided I really did not feel up to running Boston, either mentally or physically.

A week passed, then two, and I saw the mother of my dead stepbrother (my stepmum) heroically carrying on the motions of life, despite the passing of her beloved son, and I toyed again with the idea of running the illustrious marathon.

At this point, I’d run 31 prior marathons, and qualified for Boston many times. At the risk of sounding cocky, I had little to prove! The original—really the only—reason I’d wanted to run the race was to bring attention to the plight of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, the Pakistani neuroscientist nabbed in a joint U.S./Pakistani operation in Pakistan, raped and tortured by her captors, and ultimately sentenced to 86-years by a kangaroo court for a crime she clearly could not have committed. It particularly sickened me that neither the Pakistani government, nor any of the major Muslim organizations in the U.S. were actively seeking her release from what was a clearly politically-motivated and flagrantly unjust imprisonment. If I ran the Boston Marathon—held in the city where Aafia, a top scholar at MIT and Brandeis University—had excelled both scholastically and spiritually—it would have to be in her name. Once again thoughts of running Boston entered my head.

There were only two weeks left before the Boston Marathon when a tiny lump I’d had for three years on the side of my neck suddenly became inflamed. It turned out to be an inclusion cyst which developed an abscess. I tried ignoring it until after the marathon, but it only got larger and more inflamed. Then on Monday of the week prior to the marathon, I had a minor surgery for the cyst. Three days later (Thursday), I did a 15-mile run on a favorite tree-lined trail, with the gash on the side of my neck from the surgery, to see if I was up to the task of a marathon. I felt fine afterwards, and was egged on further to attain the seemingly unattainable.

On Saturday, I jumped in my car, packing little but my marathon outfit and some food items (I am a picky eater), and took off for Boston, arriving around 1:00 AM. The next day was Sunday, and I took the Boston subway to the mandatory bib number pickup at the John Hynes Convention Center, prayed a lot, and did little else.

Then, on Monday—Patriots Day in Boston—I ran the Boston Marathon wearing my long-sleeved black “Free Dr. Aafia Siddiqui” tee (prepared for me by brothers from Masjid Al-Islam in SE Washington, DC). I was the only Pakistani woman in the field of approximately 37,000 runners, and finished the very hilly course in 4 hours 4 minutes, despite high temperatures during the mid-afternoon race (Marathons are ordinarily held in the early morning to decrease the possibility of heat injury among the athletes. But in Boston, the runners in my “wave” did not start running until about 11:00 AM, and we did not finish until about 3:00 PM. I saw many runners being carried off in stretchers, likely as a result of the very warm weather. According to the organizers’ website, 810 people were unable to finish the race; the Boston Globe reported that 2,000 required medical treatment during or after the race.)

About an hour after finishing the race, I was in my car, and on the way back to Maryland, composing letters to the Boston Globe on Dr. Aafia Siddiqui in my head as I drove. I reached Maryland safely at 3:00 AM. God is Great.