made a point of providing generously for Muhammad’s
widows—and particularly for his own daughter Aisha,
who received valuable property in Medina as well as on
the other side of the Arabian Peninsula, in Bahrain.
It was the ɹnal straw for Fatima. That her father’s
uppity youngest wife should be rewarded and she, his
ɹrstborn by his ɹrst and most beloved wife, should be
rebuʃed? She never did recover from her miscarriage or
from the bitter argument with Abu Bakr. But perhaps
most painful of all in those months after the loss of her
third son was the ostracism she suʃered, ordered by Abu
Bakr to force Ali into line.
In a close-knit society, boycott is a powerful weapon.
The pressure to conform mounts as day by day, week by
week, you become increasingly invisible. People turn
their backs; friends keep their distance; acquaintances
pass by in silence, staring through you as though you
were not there. Even in the mosque, Ali prayed alone.
Ironically, the same weapon had earlier been used in
Mecca against Muhammad and his clan. Despite its
power, it had failed then, which was why the Meccan
elite had resorted to attempted murder, and it would fail
now. Fatima refused to bow to the pressure. When she
knew death was close, she asked Ali for a clandestine
burial like that of her father less than three months
before. Abu Bakr was not to be informed of her death,
she said; he was to be given no chance to oɽciate at her