One topic that has of course, been barraging my mind as of late, has been the issue of marriage, relationships and love.
In the year that I’ve been away, about 7+ of my friends have gotten hitched/engaged at ages ranging from 18 – 25. It’s shocking to say the least. Did I also mention that one of them was my brother marrying one of my friends? Intense. I discovered this over a Skype conversation + email.
In the hype of it all, I found myself someone who I actually considered a potential future spouse in China. Even when I denied the possibility and told everyone that I would not come back married, engaged or any other form of ‘taken’ in the relationship bar for the past year and some. To be honest, I met him only about two months before departure, so this made it intensely tight-stringed and especially rough on my mental understanding of the situation.
Recently I read an article one of my married friends posted on her Facebook profile (lovely aspect of social networking), and it was precisely in regards to this particular phenomenon of mass marrying/hooking up. It was essentially a list of ten points on whether or not you were ready to get married. Honestly, it was something I really needed at the time.
When I first met this guy, I honestly didn’t think of his looks, I was just like, “Okay, another Chinese Muslim dude, probably one who doesn’t know very much about what he’s doing or what the religion is about besides not eating pork and attending Friday prayer.” However, to my shock and eventually, happiness, I discovered this was certainly not the case with him. It turned out that he was the local Muslim youth leader (though not a local resident; simply attending school in the city) who organized several events for everyone to learn more about their religion and purpose in life. The more I met him, the more I became impressed with his dedication and knowledge about Islam, given the context I had seen of my “Muslim” relatives and the rest of the general populace in China. He never acted arrogant, was always respectful to everyone regardless of their opinions (some were so narrow minded, it made me clench my fists to hold back from grabbing their collars and screaming “WTF? WTF?? DO YOU NOT HAVE A BRAIN?!”) To see this beacon of knowledge and light amongst a mass of struggling fish was refreshing to say the least, and I fell head over heels for him.
It was the one and only time I ever told my mom about a crush, and the next thing I knew, all my family friends knew about it.
At first, I denied considering him seriously, especially because he couldn’t speak English, had never been to America and may not have even been interested in me in that way. However, the more I read and analyzed my own writing/emails about him, the more I realized that maybe my internal feelings were a sign from God that this one was different from all that I’ve ever possibly crushed on before as a silly girl.
Yet, even as I came to terms with the fact that yes, I did like him, I discovered that I suddenly had no idea what to do. First of all, what held me back most was the fact that I didn’t know if he even had any interest in me as a potential spouse, whether he considered me another Muslim sister who was a little different from the others, or perhaps simply a friend that his friend introduced to him in the hopes of expanding the Muslim community. The second reason, was that I was terrified that he would discover that I liked him. What would I do, especially if he didn’t like me back? What a huge embarrassment. I can’t tell you how much I sweated bullets over that. Particularly when I grew up with the innate tendency to ignore and pretend my crush didn’t exist for fear that they might discover I liked them. The third was essentially an extension of the second. When my mother, father, siblings, and aunts offered to help get to know his background, family, information and even see if he had any interest in me, I became terrified. Positively terrified.
Then, I had a little bit of recuperation time when I had to rush and pack to go home to America. In that period, I logically stepped backwards into the process and thought, why do I care if he likes me or not? The fact of the matter is, I don’t know whether or not we’re even compatible as a couple yet. Wouldn’t it be more practical for the both of us if we didn’t invest feelings just yet and tried to see if we could agree on views on life, religious practice and future life? If we couldn’t agree, what was the point of getting married to fight on our most fundamental beliefs?
Not that this thought was especially profound, but it allowed me to clear my head some. And it was upon my return to Phoenix that I finally faced myself and realized that I wasn’t ready to get married for a family yet. I just craved, wanted and needed that spousal love and affection, that one-streamed devotion to one person and vice versa. Not that such a feeling was wrong, but it certainly cannot found a marriage or family for the long term. At this point, my other question then led to, “what would be Islamically appropriate for me to do in order to keep in touch with him without overstepping my boundaries so that we could potentially discuss whether we could foresee marriage in the future?”
One of the hardest trials we go through as hormonal Muslim youth all throughout pre-marital life is precisely that. We are enamored by others, relationships, love and the concept of a single person devoted to you for you. However, in the goal of preventing ourselves from possibly falling down the wrong end, we try to stray from the vague possibility of any of that. Some of us can, some of us can’t. And all throughout this big, big abstract concept, we struggle to find ourselves, and fully understand what it is that constitutes a strong relationship between two objects of a marriage. Love is indeed a beautiful thing, but emotions are also easy to manipulate. Conflicts are always bound to happen and you can’t agree on everything, but in terms of foundational beliefs, it would be best to resolve that before investing your emotions. In essence, you can heal over time with conflicts before you are as emotionally attached to someone, but once that hook is in place, the scars left behind are stuck forever, and a majority of the time, they never fully heal.
I still dream of the day that I am married, happy and fully devoted to my husband and family, working towards a better tomorrow. But in the meantime, I have decided that my mental maturity hasn’t quite reached that state. In the development towards that process, I place my fate in God’s hands. If I am indeed meant to be with this person, God will give me signs and make it so that I can’t avoid it. And in the case that we are not meant to be, I will be given obstacles in my path towards it. God knows best, and I have no issues with that.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday, December 4, 2009
China, HSK and Muslims
I have my ups and downs with the Muslim population, and sometimes it really drives me insane. Recently, guess what it’s been? Cheating.
I grew up in America, home of creative licensing and copyrights. Maybe some of you may think I’m too high-strung, but I consider cheating one of the most dastardly things you can do growing up. I don’t care how desperate you are, it’s breaching the rights of your fellow classmate, teacher and if anything at all, your SELF. Cheating on tests is disgusting to me. I remember in high school, some of the grades would whisper to each other, “Whats the answer to number 56?” whenever the teacher trusted the class enough to walk out for some air or something. Thankfully my class never stepped out of line. Maybe in part because I was the principal’s daughter, maybe in part because the class as a whole had a higher standard of morals. Either way, I was fairly happy with my own condition. Oftentimes, if I accidentally caught a glimpse of what I knew to be the right answer, I would purposefully mark it wrong on my paper. Just because I felt it was wrong that I saw it. Maybe this was overboard or being a bit TOO careful, but I was satisfied with my own actions.
Growing up with this sort of belief, I have always been highly sensitive in tests and made sure not to mess around to convince others that I may possibly have been cheating. HERE now comes my issue with HSK testing and the Middle-Easterners who REALLY let me down.
HSK testing was on Sunday morning, starting at 9 AM. I came early, but forgot to bring my passport for identification. Thankfully the test proctor said to me, “it’s okay, I know you, go on.” So I went in. Thankful for his slip, I tried to sit in my rightful seat number but was told by the impatient woman proctor that I was in the wrong place. Turns out she was wrong though. I ended up shifting back three rows to where I was originally seated. Anyhow, the test started without much ado. Flagship kids filled up about five rows. I was smack in the middle.
Throughout the test, a proctor dressed in a bright red coat stalked the aisle beside our seats and would sometimes stop more surreptitiously and peer over our shoulders, sweeping her eyes over our test sheets. In fact, I would almost have considered her doing this for mere amusement as opposed to being anything close to making sure we weren’t cheating. After all, when I slipped my answer sheet beneath the test booklet, circling the answers on the book itself, she came by and pulled out the sheet, organized it over the section I was reading and said in a very loud whisper, “You’re doing it wrong, this first, this first.” (In Chinese) I was more than irritated, and sort of brusquely told her, that I knew what I was doing. After placing my answer sheet away again, she sauntered down the aisle and began shifting Andre’s paper ahead of me (he had placed it at a 90 degree angle, out of habit), discussing with him the issue of paper-placing DURING the listening section (excuse me, did you not realize we aren’t Chinese native speakers or LISTENERS for that matter?). After making her point she came back up the aisle, attempting to chat up several other students and then made a beeline back towards me, asking urgently, “where’s your passport??”
Thank you for organizing priorities lady. Not leaving when I didn’t answer, I eventually blurted that I had left it in the front with the bags (a lie), and not being able to do anything, she moved back to the front.
Now here’s my issue.
At the end of the testing, Earl noticed the people testing in front of him were all cheating. As they went around the room collecting papers, the Middle Easterner male in the front row slipped his paper down alongside the edge of the desk and showed his answers to the row behind him, allowing them to copy all the answers. Mind you, the ones copying? They were hijabis. Can I tell you the shame I felt when hearing my classmate tell me about this? Hijabis. Please. Do you realize what putting a headscarf even CONSTITUTES? It hurts me as a Muslim to see that people who also represent my religion can do things like this. Yea, maybe it’s ‘just a test’, but to me that reflects the fact that you are willing to bend to dirty methods to obtain results that are not rightfully yours. I don’t care how important this test may be to your career or future, by giving this fake result to your company, you are lying about your own abilities and only causing more problems for YOURSELF in the future. Yes, some may say, let them be, because they ll be reaping their own results. HOWEVER, to see people in my own religion doing dirty things like this makes me feel especially hollow, irritated, upset and depressed. Do you know what you represent? Not only are you a representative of your country, youre a representative of your RELIGION. Do you know how many people you have just affected thanks to a miss in judgment? Thank you so much for making my life just a little harder. And please, learn what that scarf means to all of us.
I grew up in America, home of creative licensing and copyrights. Maybe some of you may think I’m too high-strung, but I consider cheating one of the most dastardly things you can do growing up. I don’t care how desperate you are, it’s breaching the rights of your fellow classmate, teacher and if anything at all, your SELF. Cheating on tests is disgusting to me. I remember in high school, some of the grades would whisper to each other, “Whats the answer to number 56?” whenever the teacher trusted the class enough to walk out for some air or something. Thankfully my class never stepped out of line. Maybe in part because I was the principal’s daughter, maybe in part because the class as a whole had a higher standard of morals. Either way, I was fairly happy with my own condition. Oftentimes, if I accidentally caught a glimpse of what I knew to be the right answer, I would purposefully mark it wrong on my paper. Just because I felt it was wrong that I saw it. Maybe this was overboard or being a bit TOO careful, but I was satisfied with my own actions.
Growing up with this sort of belief, I have always been highly sensitive in tests and made sure not to mess around to convince others that I may possibly have been cheating. HERE now comes my issue with HSK testing and the Middle-Easterners who REALLY let me down.
HSK testing was on Sunday morning, starting at 9 AM. I came early, but forgot to bring my passport for identification. Thankfully the test proctor said to me, “it’s okay, I know you, go on.” So I went in. Thankful for his slip, I tried to sit in my rightful seat number but was told by the impatient woman proctor that I was in the wrong place. Turns out she was wrong though. I ended up shifting back three rows to where I was originally seated. Anyhow, the test started without much ado. Flagship kids filled up about five rows. I was smack in the middle.
Throughout the test, a proctor dressed in a bright red coat stalked the aisle beside our seats and would sometimes stop more surreptitiously and peer over our shoulders, sweeping her eyes over our test sheets. In fact, I would almost have considered her doing this for mere amusement as opposed to being anything close to making sure we weren’t cheating. After all, when I slipped my answer sheet beneath the test booklet, circling the answers on the book itself, she came by and pulled out the sheet, organized it over the section I was reading and said in a very loud whisper, “You’re doing it wrong, this first, this first.” (In Chinese) I was more than irritated, and sort of brusquely told her, that I knew what I was doing. After placing my answer sheet away again, she sauntered down the aisle and began shifting Andre’s paper ahead of me (he had placed it at a 90 degree angle, out of habit), discussing with him the issue of paper-placing DURING the listening section (excuse me, did you not realize we aren’t Chinese native speakers or LISTENERS for that matter?). After making her point she came back up the aisle, attempting to chat up several other students and then made a beeline back towards me, asking urgently, “where’s your passport??”
Thank you for organizing priorities lady. Not leaving when I didn’t answer, I eventually blurted that I had left it in the front with the bags (a lie), and not being able to do anything, she moved back to the front.
Now here’s my issue.
At the end of the testing, Earl noticed the people testing in front of him were all cheating. As they went around the room collecting papers, the Middle Easterner male in the front row slipped his paper down alongside the edge of the desk and showed his answers to the row behind him, allowing them to copy all the answers. Mind you, the ones copying? They were hijabis. Can I tell you the shame I felt when hearing my classmate tell me about this? Hijabis. Please. Do you realize what putting a headscarf even CONSTITUTES? It hurts me as a Muslim to see that people who also represent my religion can do things like this. Yea, maybe it’s ‘just a test’, but to me that reflects the fact that you are willing to bend to dirty methods to obtain results that are not rightfully yours. I don’t care how important this test may be to your career or future, by giving this fake result to your company, you are lying about your own abilities and only causing more problems for YOURSELF in the future. Yes, some may say, let them be, because they ll be reaping their own results. HOWEVER, to see people in my own religion doing dirty things like this makes me feel especially hollow, irritated, upset and depressed. Do you know what you represent? Not only are you a representative of your country, youre a representative of your RELIGION. Do you know how many people you have just affected thanks to a miss in judgment? Thank you so much for making my life just a little harder. And please, learn what that scarf means to all of us.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Marriage, Muslims, and Crushes
I went to an Islamic School.
That sentence in and of itself means a lot. At least for those who know what I mean.
I had very little to no exposure to Muslims for the first few years of my life. By the time I actually did find myself in the situation in which I was surrounded by hijabi-wearing 10 year olds and Quran-holding kids, I had certainly not expected any mix between the genders. At least not the way people tend to depict it in public schools.
I like to think that I was naively oblivious to the happenings of the school. However, some years after attending Islamic School, I began to hear those godforsaken ‘rumors’ that spread because with a population that small, they were the only way to keep students’ minds busy.
“Kathy has a crush on Rob.” “nooo, Rob does not like Kathy back…ew…”
In fact, although I was a freak and a geek rolled in one, two girls one day decided to fulfill their curious ideas and speculations and cornered me one day, “Soo, we know you like Thomas…and that he likes you back…it’s SOOO obvious.” This, because I spoke to him once or twice in…oh wait, in PUBLIC. “uhh, no, I actually don’t. In fact, I think I’m a bit young for any of this.” (Note, these girls were actually younger than me) However, they both raised their eyebrows and one of them smacked my arm saying, “riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, okay, whatever floats your boat.”
Of course this does nothing to cover the fact that whenever I turned around at random junctures to face an empty hall, I spotted one or two ‘couples’ ‘hanging out’. At the time, however, I suspected nothing.
By the time I hit my last year at Islamic School, I began to see it all. I had the especially fun job of locking up doors during lunch hour, a new way for cramming students in the cafeteria at the time. I didn’t have such a problem with it, until, well, a problem came up.
One day, as I rushed around trying to lock doors and such, I found myself at the end of a hallway and spotted two girls and a guy talking in muted tones. They didn’t notice me.
I whistled louder. Reaction.
The guy jumped a couple inches and then sped off to his left, running into a room. The two girls crammed themselves into the corner of a wall and began to awkwardly recite a book out loud.
I can tell you at this point, I could have cared less about what the heck they were doing. The only thing I could think of however, was just how embarrassed I felt. I locked the room the guy was hiding in and closed it on him. The two girls giggled and twitched and I felt chills run up and down my spine. I rushed down the hall without much fanfare and locked the last two doors before sitting in an abandoned corner and crying silently to myself. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, shocked and upset. All at the same time.
Why do they think it’s so funny? How could they ACT like that? Don’t they care? Why am I crying?!
I was overwhelmed by these minor experiences during my years at Islamic School. Even now, after I’ve left the situation, I wonder, why is it that an Islamic School, an institute in which the principles of Islam are taught, has students that blatantly step all over its boundaries and break the most basic understanding we all have? Yea, sure, we all agree in principle at these oh-so-inspirational youth conferences that certain boundaries cannot be crossed with the opposite gender. Yet, why is that the second we leave that conference room, the boundaries are all thrown out the window and then these typical boy-girl scenarios start playing themselves out?
As Muslims, we are still human. I realize that. Feelings are not to be downplayed. Certainly. HOWEVER, I do believe that these ‘rules’ and ‘boundaries’ we have created for ourselves are in place for a reason. Sure, talking to your guy or girl friend is NOT going to end up with you holding a baby in your arms. However, the eventual scenario is possible. Over time, by hanging out with this person in a secluded place can lead to hand-holding, kissing and then, well, biology. This is the reason why we set lines at the forefront of guy-girl relationships. As Muslims, we don’t date for this reason. Dating, at least in the current, modern American society no longer has the function of ‘getting to know the other person for the purpose of marriage’. Rather, at least as far as I’ve seen, it’s a way to ‘gain experience’ in the complex world of relationships.
Personally, I find it a lot more romantic to ‘gain experience’ in the world of relationships with that one single partner whom you will always be with till the day you die. Of course, also, seeing as how no person is exactly alike, no matter how many relationships you have, you will NEVER have a grasp on the complex web of thought and emotion put into any future relationship you have. Given that the next person you end up with is not the same as the last.
On another note however, crushes are crushes for a reason. If you consider yourself in love with someone, ask yourself the following questions: (a) are you willing to marry this person sometime in the future? (b) if this person has agreed to ‘go out’ with you, do you consider their faith strong enough to fuel your marriage in the future? (c) if you’re not planning to marry this person, why are you going to step into this relationship? (d) How will you feel if your spouse had histories of ‘going out’ with various people in your own Islamic community? (e) Now look at yourself.
If you are not willing to openly, publicly declare your interest in this person as a future spouse, if you’re not willing to talk to you parents about a possibility in marriage with this person, there’s something wrong with the scenario.
Some of you may bash me, “oh but what if you don’t know you want to marry that person yet? It would be sooo embarrassing if our families got involved and then, oh my gosh, we didn’t get married.” No. My silly friend, it would be embarrassing for you maybe, but what if you two were secretly getting together and then, as usual, the Muslims community began spreading vile rumors about you two, and then your parents found out about it? THEN, how embarrassing would it be for both of your families, and yourself? Compare and let me know. Also, realize that you were going about it the right way. What wrong did you commit that you should be embarrassed? It’s the same reason that people divorce. You weren’t compatible. Only, that you didn’t have to marry first to come to that conclusion.
TO BE CONTINUED.
That sentence in and of itself means a lot. At least for those who know what I mean.
I had very little to no exposure to Muslims for the first few years of my life. By the time I actually did find myself in the situation in which I was surrounded by hijabi-wearing 10 year olds and Quran-holding kids, I had certainly not expected any mix between the genders. At least not the way people tend to depict it in public schools.
I like to think that I was naively oblivious to the happenings of the school. However, some years after attending Islamic School, I began to hear those godforsaken ‘rumors’ that spread because with a population that small, they were the only way to keep students’ minds busy.
“Kathy has a crush on Rob.” “nooo, Rob does not like Kathy back…ew…”
In fact, although I was a freak and a geek rolled in one, two girls one day decided to fulfill their curious ideas and speculations and cornered me one day, “Soo, we know you like Thomas…and that he likes you back…it’s SOOO obvious.” This, because I spoke to him once or twice in…oh wait, in PUBLIC. “uhh, no, I actually don’t. In fact, I think I’m a bit young for any of this.” (Note, these girls were actually younger than me) However, they both raised their eyebrows and one of them smacked my arm saying, “riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, okay, whatever floats your boat.”
Of course this does nothing to cover the fact that whenever I turned around at random junctures to face an empty hall, I spotted one or two ‘couples’ ‘hanging out’. At the time, however, I suspected nothing.
By the time I hit my last year at Islamic School, I began to see it all. I had the especially fun job of locking up doors during lunch hour, a new way for cramming students in the cafeteria at the time. I didn’t have such a problem with it, until, well, a problem came up.
One day, as I rushed around trying to lock doors and such, I found myself at the end of a hallway and spotted two girls and a guy talking in muted tones. They didn’t notice me.
I whistled louder. Reaction.
The guy jumped a couple inches and then sped off to his left, running into a room. The two girls crammed themselves into the corner of a wall and began to awkwardly recite a book out loud.
I can tell you at this point, I could have cared less about what the heck they were doing. The only thing I could think of however, was just how embarrassed I felt. I locked the room the guy was hiding in and closed it on him. The two girls giggled and twitched and I felt chills run up and down my spine. I rushed down the hall without much fanfare and locked the last two doors before sitting in an abandoned corner and crying silently to myself. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, shocked and upset. All at the same time.
Why do they think it’s so funny? How could they ACT like that? Don’t they care? Why am I crying?!
I was overwhelmed by these minor experiences during my years at Islamic School. Even now, after I’ve left the situation, I wonder, why is it that an Islamic School, an institute in which the principles of Islam are taught, has students that blatantly step all over its boundaries and break the most basic understanding we all have? Yea, sure, we all agree in principle at these oh-so-inspirational youth conferences that certain boundaries cannot be crossed with the opposite gender. Yet, why is that the second we leave that conference room, the boundaries are all thrown out the window and then these typical boy-girl scenarios start playing themselves out?
As Muslims, we are still human. I realize that. Feelings are not to be downplayed. Certainly. HOWEVER, I do believe that these ‘rules’ and ‘boundaries’ we have created for ourselves are in place for a reason. Sure, talking to your guy or girl friend is NOT going to end up with you holding a baby in your arms. However, the eventual scenario is possible. Over time, by hanging out with this person in a secluded place can lead to hand-holding, kissing and then, well, biology. This is the reason why we set lines at the forefront of guy-girl relationships. As Muslims, we don’t date for this reason. Dating, at least in the current, modern American society no longer has the function of ‘getting to know the other person for the purpose of marriage’. Rather, at least as far as I’ve seen, it’s a way to ‘gain experience’ in the complex world of relationships.
Personally, I find it a lot more romantic to ‘gain experience’ in the world of relationships with that one single partner whom you will always be with till the day you die. Of course, also, seeing as how no person is exactly alike, no matter how many relationships you have, you will NEVER have a grasp on the complex web of thought and emotion put into any future relationship you have. Given that the next person you end up with is not the same as the last.
On another note however, crushes are crushes for a reason. If you consider yourself in love with someone, ask yourself the following questions: (a) are you willing to marry this person sometime in the future? (b) if this person has agreed to ‘go out’ with you, do you consider their faith strong enough to fuel your marriage in the future? (c) if you’re not planning to marry this person, why are you going to step into this relationship? (d) How will you feel if your spouse had histories of ‘going out’ with various people in your own Islamic community? (e) Now look at yourself.
If you are not willing to openly, publicly declare your interest in this person as a future spouse, if you’re not willing to talk to you parents about a possibility in marriage with this person, there’s something wrong with the scenario.
Some of you may bash me, “oh but what if you don’t know you want to marry that person yet? It would be sooo embarrassing if our families got involved and then, oh my gosh, we didn’t get married.” No. My silly friend, it would be embarrassing for you maybe, but what if you two were secretly getting together and then, as usual, the Muslims community began spreading vile rumors about you two, and then your parents found out about it? THEN, how embarrassing would it be for both of your families, and yourself? Compare and let me know. Also, realize that you were going about it the right way. What wrong did you commit that you should be embarrassed? It’s the same reason that people divorce. You weren’t compatible. Only, that you didn’t have to marry first to come to that conclusion.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Do Muslims Eat Christians?
“Do Muslims eat Christians?” The little boy grasping the edges of the gate asked me. He had a face full of innocence and pure curiosity. I couldn’t believe my ears. “No.” I managed, starting to shake with laughter and disbelief at the same time. He shrugged and ran off with his friend tagging along behind him. We continued to play basketball.
I was 12 years old that year, and a student at Arizona Cultural Academy. Quite honestly I had never realized just how little many Americans knew about Muslims at all. If anything, I thought they were remarkably knowledgeable on the subject. After all, having grown around homeschoolers, most of the kids and parents knew just about every possible religion in the world and were also able to quote more facts on my religion than I could within the same time limit. The day my beautiful assumptions shattered into a million pieces happened about two years after I began attending ACA.
During the middle of the year, most of us teacher-kids ended up hanging around the field after school because there was absolutely nothing else to do (we didn’t exactly think doing homework during that time was particularly fascinating). Even though I have always been basketball-y-challenged, I decided to play with the other kids anyway. That day, as I missed the hoop by a meter from 4 feet away, the little boys from the neighboring house outside the school were clinging to the fence next to the basketball court. This was one of my first encounters of that kind during the 5 years I was at ACA. He stared at me with wide eyes and then asked, in a very matter-of-fact tone, a question that devastated me, “Do Muslims eat Christians?”
He was probably 7 years old at the time, but I had never heard a more ignorant question. How could a kid that age even THINK of a question like that? Ever since that day, my standards and hopes for Americans knowing anything about my religion have fallen lower and lower. These days, if they even realize that I’m a “Muslim” and not an “Islam” or an “Arabic” I praise them. “Wow! You sure know an awful lot about my religion!” It makes them beam bashfully at me. In fact tonight, I visited Starbucks at ASU West to pick up a coffee after a long day. One of the male cashiers was smiling nonstop, taking my order before picking up the courage to make that all-too-well-known gesture around his head. He looked like he was going insane with that finger twirling around his head before he asked, “So what is that thing on your head? I’ve seen, like, three people here today with that on their heads!” He seemed excited. So I told him. “Oh, I see,” he remarked, apparently proud of himself, “so what religion is this based on?” Caught off guard, having assumed he would at least have associated the scarf with terrorists or Middle Eastern people, I was slow to respond and was cut off by the African-American female cashier who said, “It’s a part of Islam, and wearing a hijab sort of represents your level of religiosity…right?” She looked at me knowingly. I was so pleased my face probably looked like it was all teeth. Later I found out that she had family members who were Muslim. I could have died from being so proud of her knowledge.
From these experiences, as much as I have been shocked and pleased in each encounter, I’ve realized one thing: Muslims need to a little more positive PR, starting from the youth. We need to get our act together. I know I’ve said this once, but I mean it. It’s probably not likely to tell the whole world what we’re about, but it’s easy to tell our closest friends. I’m not asking you to proselytize and convert people left and right, in fact, please don’t. However, just by explaining about WHY you wear your scarf or WHY we do certain things, we promote a little more understanding about what kind of people we are. In the end, I just don’t want myself or another Muslim kid to ever have to encounter another curious George who comes up with something awkward and alien, like, “Do Muslims eat Christians?” Please.
I was 12 years old that year, and a student at Arizona Cultural Academy. Quite honestly I had never realized just how little many Americans knew about Muslims at all. If anything, I thought they were remarkably knowledgeable on the subject. After all, having grown around homeschoolers, most of the kids and parents knew just about every possible religion in the world and were also able to quote more facts on my religion than I could within the same time limit. The day my beautiful assumptions shattered into a million pieces happened about two years after I began attending ACA.
During the middle of the year, most of us teacher-kids ended up hanging around the field after school because there was absolutely nothing else to do (we didn’t exactly think doing homework during that time was particularly fascinating). Even though I have always been basketball-y-challenged, I decided to play with the other kids anyway. That day, as I missed the hoop by a meter from 4 feet away, the little boys from the neighboring house outside the school were clinging to the fence next to the basketball court. This was one of my first encounters of that kind during the 5 years I was at ACA. He stared at me with wide eyes and then asked, in a very matter-of-fact tone, a question that devastated me, “Do Muslims eat Christians?”
He was probably 7 years old at the time, but I had never heard a more ignorant question. How could a kid that age even THINK of a question like that? Ever since that day, my standards and hopes for Americans knowing anything about my religion have fallen lower and lower. These days, if they even realize that I’m a “Muslim” and not an “Islam” or an “Arabic” I praise them. “Wow! You sure know an awful lot about my religion!” It makes them beam bashfully at me. In fact tonight, I visited Starbucks at ASU West to pick up a coffee after a long day. One of the male cashiers was smiling nonstop, taking my order before picking up the courage to make that all-too-well-known gesture around his head. He looked like he was going insane with that finger twirling around his head before he asked, “So what is that thing on your head? I’ve seen, like, three people here today with that on their heads!” He seemed excited. So I told him. “Oh, I see,” he remarked, apparently proud of himself, “so what religion is this based on?” Caught off guard, having assumed he would at least have associated the scarf with terrorists or Middle Eastern people, I was slow to respond and was cut off by the African-American female cashier who said, “It’s a part of Islam, and wearing a hijab sort of represents your level of religiosity…right?” She looked at me knowingly. I was so pleased my face probably looked like it was all teeth. Later I found out that she had family members who were Muslim. I could have died from being so proud of her knowledge.
From these experiences, as much as I have been shocked and pleased in each encounter, I’ve realized one thing: Muslims need to a little more positive PR, starting from the youth. We need to get our act together. I know I’ve said this once, but I mean it. It’s probably not likely to tell the whole world what we’re about, but it’s easy to tell our closest friends. I’m not asking you to proselytize and convert people left and right, in fact, please don’t. However, just by explaining about WHY you wear your scarf or WHY we do certain things, we promote a little more understanding about what kind of people we are. In the end, I just don’t want myself or another Muslim kid to ever have to encounter another curious George who comes up with something awkward and alien, like, “Do Muslims eat Christians?” Please.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
It’s a little thing called Unity
I remember while going to Islamic School, several of the “seasoned” public-school-going Muslims around me would brag about their countless “non-Muslim” friends. Although in retrospect that type of bragging right seems ridiculous, at the time I was in awe. This wasn’t limited to just myself however, most everyone else were also shocked into instant admiration for the one who had “non-Muslim friends”. Now, as a student in the nation’s most populous public university, I can hardly say I am envious or in admiration of those who have non-Muslim friends. In fact, at this time of my life, I feel as though the several good non-Muslim friends I have can’t even compare to those timeless relationships I made throughout my life back when I was heavily involved with the Muslim community.
I’ve been shy for the majority of my life, one of the most frustrating attributes about myself that I have yet to overcome entirely. Even sitting in an Islamic school, in the same exact classroom with the same exact classmates for 4 years was not enough for me to even bravely say that I was “friends” with them. Yet, during those hours where I sat on the far corner of the room, I began daydreaming of crawling out of my shell and having countless non-Muslim friends. You can imagine the scenario I’m sure. Over time, these dreams kept growing into massive behemoths that gave the promise of reality when I shot myself into a large university such as ASU. However, given my own personality and the cruelty of reality, my fragile dreams were shattered. That’s not to say I hid in a dark corner and mumbled riddles under my breath for the two years I’ve been here, however. With my own wily ways, I managed to maintain a justified number of friendships. Some of them became stronger and more resilient than others. In fact, I could go so far as to say, some reached the level of “best friend-ness”. According to my previous youthful high school standards, this should have been the peak of my friendship happiness scale. However, after a while, I realized it wasn’t.
All humans have a certain comfort zone, and for some reason, Muslims (or at least for the several hundreds of Muslims I’ve met) have a much more open comfort zone for people of their religion as opposed to say, laymen Christians or Jews. For instance, perhaps this feeling is exclusive to myself, but no matter where I go, whenever I come within 30 feet of a hijabi sighting, my heart will soar, my eyes will enlarge, my feet will start dancing and the next thing that poor girl will see is a frantic Chinese Muslim waving emphatically while screaming blurs of “salaams” at her. Similarly, it only takes one meeting and a half for me to first begin bear- hugging most of my new hijabi acquaintances as though we’ve been friends for years. Not having researched this, I can’t say why this happens. However, it was because of this peculiar enlarged comfort zone that I felt this sense of belonging among Muslims whose identity or personality I had no notion of, and that sense of missing that special something when laughing my feet off with non-Muslim friends; because, as much as we share similar traits or beliefs with our non-Muslim best friends, there is a constant barrier of religion.
Although sometimes we become frustrated with the nonexistent understanding of personal space, this sort of bonding between those of the same religion is irreplaceable. It is beyond the building of a relationship based on similar attributes or thoughts. Because if we do follow our religion in the same way, this similarity will instantly be a part of the foundation of a relationship between Muslims, and thus our Muslim friendships will become closer than our non-Muslim friendships simply because there are far more similarities beyond the same religious beliefs, ideals and thoughts.
I’m sure most of us have had some one or other mention to us the power of the people. This essay is no different. I’m definitely not emphasizing that we should drop all our non-Muslim friends and go running for cover with the “safe crowd of Muslims”, however I do feel that it’s important to help your Muslim friends and appreciate them more than your non-Muslim friends. This probably sounds brutal, however when you really get down to it, your non-Muslim friends are no more obligated to help you than they do a complete stranger. On the other hand, Muslims are obligated to help other Muslims (and of course non-Muslims). And for that reason, I say this: We need to get it together. Muslims aren’t doing a bad job of unity per se, but it could certainly use a little improvement. I realize that overcoming past grievances and conflicts among one another is tough; however we are Muslim, and to give up on the argument first, to forgive first, to extend your hand to the other first is your DUTY. As painful as your experience may have been with one Muslim family or one Muslim individual, you must realize that until we stand together, we as the followers of Islam will never define it as a religion.
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