_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Entrepreneurship is commonly associated with productivity and performance, infrastructures, and more recently “start-up” culture. But what when entrepreneurship is grounded in informal, home-based, small-scale businesses driven not by capitalistic notions of profit making but instead by feminist notions of care and empathy? In my doctoral research with Muslim women engaged in entrepreneurship (running modest sized clothing stores, home bakeries, online art and craft stores and so on) in Delhi, I was struck by acts of solidarity and care. Amongst the women, such solidarities build hope – that is vital to the politics of marginality and allows for an articulation of desire for a better life (Coleman & Ferreday, 2010).
In contemporary India, Muslims live amidst growing animosity, fear and the threat of violence with communities struggling to find reliable networks of support. In such circumstances, community-based solidarities can serve as social capital that is crucial to collective agency and processes of identity formation (Kanagasabai & Phadke, 2023). These help women access information and resources and offer emotional support in the face of an external threat. A key finding from my research relates to the different “choices” Muslim women made having to do with their desire to build empathetic entrepreneurial spaces, care for other women, especially those who are less socio-economically privileged than themselves. Women’s enterprises became spaces for sympathetic disclosure and crafting a support system built on shared religious and gender identities through the adoption of Islamic values of compassion, charity and khedmat (to serve). Care was expressed through recognising how economic work aids women’s wellbeing and in supporting other women with employment opportunities. Women entrepreneurs were attentive to the caring responsibilities of their employees and supported them through flexibility around leave, work timings and even paid salaries in advance if needed. Furthermore, women shared Islamic knowledge and turned to their faith to motivate one another during difficult and challenging times. Their experiences resonate with Tronto’s (2013) work on “care ethics” that emphasises care as a personal and political practice.

 
One evening, as I waited at a hair salon to interview a Muslim hairdresser in a central Delhi area, an Indian crime series played on television. As a group of women waited seated on a sofa, they discussed the show’s plot commenting that crime had significantly increased in Delhi with the discussion shifting to hate-crimes against Muslims that are visibly absent in the media. As women entered and left, they conveyed hope for a better future for Muslims in the country. During my fieldwork, I witnessed several such instances where women discussed and educated each other about political events and talked about daily news linked to these political events. They also talked about their personal lives (e.g., their children’s education) and other mundane matters (e.g., leaking pipes and poor drainage). For Muslim women, these entrepreneurial spaces were where the private and public intersected becoming spaces for intimate discussions and sharing pain, grief, fear and happiness.

 
These spaces also served other purposes. Tanzeela, an artist in her late twenties, started an art based online platform to encourage discussions on Islam, gender, and feminism. Her art (that she mainly sells at exhibitions) printed on key rings, tote bags, posters and so on, depicts the everyday lives of Muslim women and attempts to challenge stereotypes associated with them. She is motivated to present Muslim women, for instance, those wearing headscarves as women with agency, in contrast to majoritarian representations of Muslim women as “passive”, “coerced” victims oppressed by men from their own communities (Abu-Lughod, 2013). These conversations around politics and identity are also taken up on social media when women sometimes use their business accounts on X and WhatsApp to voice opinions on the politics of hate, aware that they might lose clients in the process. Yet they believe that it is important to display solidarity with the Muslim community and create awareness in wider society.

For others, connections with other women offer alternatives to family support. Sabina, a woman in her late thirties, owns a clothing brand. Her family was apprehensive of Sabina’s entrepreneurial choice as tailoring, stitching and weaving clothes is commonly associated with lower-caste Muslims. Sabina recalled that, in the early days, as she struggled to establish her business, it was her women customers who offered emotional support, encouragement and motivation to continue building her fashion brand. For women like Sabina, the women they met through their businesses also helped further their entrepreneurial journeys by promoting their businesses amongst their own families and friends.

 
Rahat, a woman in her early thirties, has an attar (alcohol free perfume) brand. Rahat lives with her husband and children in a Muslim locality in southeast Delhi. Once every week, Rahat invites into her home women who stitch pouches for the attar bottles and pack the orders. They spend hours working in one room of Rahat’s home that she has turned into an entrepreneurial space. As they work, Rahat serves them tea and talks to them about their everyday lives and children. Rahat shared that even though cheaper machine-made pouches and other packaging materials are available, she prefers employing these underprivileged women. She believes in the Islamic concept of rizq (sustenance) believed to be pre-destined. Most of the women employed by her are poor and belong to nearby slums. One of Rahat’s employees, who was in an abusive relationship and subsequently divorced at a young age, was helped by Rahat who employed her full time at her enterprise. Thus, those better off like Rahat use their priviledge to support others, especially in times of personal and financial need. Beyond extending employment opportunities, Muslim women also create a supportive network where women can access opportunities for skill development, professional training, potential contacts for business, and even funds in times of crisis.

 
As public spaces feel increasingly threatening to Muslim women, especially those who wear visible symbols of Islamic identity such as the hijab, niqab or abaya, women only spaces such as cafes (reserved for women to hang out and pray in a bustling market area), gyms, and Islamic gatherings for learning and teaching Quran, provide alternate spaces in gendered and segregated Muslim dominated localities. These enterprises run and owned by Muslim women, become important sites not only for the exchange of goods and services but also of support. Acknowledging commonalities in their struggles based on gender and religious identity-based discrimination, entrepreneurial work is centred around care and solidarity, offering much needed hope for those marginalised and living under constant threat of violence. In times of crisis, what do women hold onto, if not hope?