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coppqueen5129Many years ago I participated often in online message boards, and I recall a conversation I had with a black man about Islam. He was vehemently anti-Islam and anti-Christian and I perceived him as wacked and "afro-centric." He told me that I and all the other black Muslims were suckers. Surprised, I asked him why he would say that? And he stated that the same people who would reject Christianity as the religion of the white slaveholders turn around and accept Islam, which is the religion of the Arab slaveholders. I told him that Islam was about liberty and there was no racism in it and Islam helped to abolish slavery, etc. He said, "Oh yeah? Then what about ..." and named off some African people that Arab Muslims had destroyed or forcibly converted. I told him that he was clearly ill-informed because when Islam spread through Africa it was willingly accepted and it was a very peaceable transition. I remember that he scoffed at me and emoted something along the lines of, *So-and-So leaps up and flees, leaving [me] to her ignorance and stupid religion.* I was taken aback and a little disturbed - that someone could make such untruths.
It's so strange to look back on my life then. It's as though my old thoughts and views have been preserved in jars and I can hold them up for examinations any time I like. But I'm not sure how they got out of my head into all these jars.
As a convert I can never say "never." Ten years ago I would "never" have imagined I would not be Muslim. I was certain that I would die a Muslim. I couldn't believe in anything else. Not being Muslim was for other people, but it was never for me. I couldn't imagine holding hands with a man I wasn't married to. I couldn't imagine drinking could be enjoyable. I couldn't imagine not walking into my house with my right foot or not believing in the recording angels who write everything down in the two books.
But things change so quickly. The day I decided to stop making salat (the daily prayers), I felt the whole universe had stopped to witness. On the Day of Judgement, would my hands and feet and arms and mouth all rat me out, like the traditions said? I had already lost my faith months before, but I was still praying in the hopes that God would have mercy on me and give the faith back. But nothing happened, and gradually I accepted that either I or this religion was a lost cause. And one day I didn't get up for Subh, the dawn prayer, and nothing happened. I waited, but nothing happened. I felt guilt, but I also knew the prayer was meaningless to me now. I skipped Subh for a few days and I never made them up. I cheated during Ramadan and ate little sweets in secrecy. I had been fasting for over a decade and for the first time I was cheating! And I didn't make the day up. Next thing I knew, I wasn't praying 'Isha, the late night prayer, anymore, either. Then 'Asr, the late afternoon prayer, was gone. And the first time I skipped Maghrib, the Sunset prayer, I was at the movie theater instead, wondering when God was going to notice all of these transgressions. But nothing happened, and I did not feel as guilty as I thought I would because again, the prayers and all of it had been only exercise for a long time anyway. And in just a few weeks I had stopped my salat altogether. I remember being astonished that a practice I'd been doing five times a day every day for almost 20 years could be dropped in less than a month. Wow; either this had all been false or I was really deep in kufr (disbelief)!
Once in a while I wonder what I'll be believing in 15 or 20 years. Will I still be a UU? One day might I be worshipping a sungod? I'm already learning songs that praise the Orishas - and the opposite of Muslim is Mushrik! Ohh, how my eyes have changed. What other identities will I have retained, ceased to care about, or taken on? I'm trying to keep track of Who I am at the very core, but I've rearranged things so much I don't even know where the core is anymore. Once in a while I'll casually wonder, Is this it? Is this the dunya (the world)? Is this what it means to be "out there in the dunya?" So many attractions and distractions; the more social and socialized I become and the more people I meet who are vastly different from myself, the more I develop - but at the same time, I'm growing away from knowing who I am or who I was, or what that even means: to be someone.
There are many things I miss about my old faith, but that nostalgia is all mixed up with the happy memories of childhood, seemingly endless days of unschooled solitude and a decade of hidden depression. I don't know if I was more centered then, or if my world was just so tiny. Maybe that feeling of growing removed from my old self is just a natural result of getting older, and it happens to most of us who reflect on such things. Maybe there is no "old self" to get back to.
It's so strange to look back on my life then. It's as though my old thoughts and views have been preserved in jars and I can hold them up for examinations any time I like. But I'm not sure how they got out of my head into all these jars.
As a convert I can never say "never." Ten years ago I would "never" have imagined I would not be Muslim. I was certain that I would die a Muslim. I couldn't believe in anything else. Not being Muslim was for other people, but it was never for me. I couldn't imagine holding hands with a man I wasn't married to. I couldn't imagine drinking could be enjoyable. I couldn't imagine not walking into my house with my right foot or not believing in the recording angels who write everything down in the two books.
But things change so quickly. The day I decided to stop making salat (the daily prayers), I felt the whole universe had stopped to witness. On the Day of Judgement, would my hands and feet and arms and mouth all rat me out, like the traditions said? I had already lost my faith months before, but I was still praying in the hopes that God would have mercy on me and give the faith back. But nothing happened, and gradually I accepted that either I or this religion was a lost cause. And one day I didn't get up for Subh, the dawn prayer, and nothing happened. I waited, but nothing happened. I felt guilt, but I also knew the prayer was meaningless to me now. I skipped Subh for a few days and I never made them up. I cheated during Ramadan and ate little sweets in secrecy. I had been fasting for over a decade and for the first time I was cheating! And I didn't make the day up. Next thing I knew, I wasn't praying 'Isha, the late night prayer, anymore, either. Then 'Asr, the late afternoon prayer, was gone. And the first time I skipped Maghrib, the Sunset prayer, I was at the movie theater instead, wondering when God was going to notice all of these transgressions. But nothing happened, and I did not feel as guilty as I thought I would because again, the prayers and all of it had been only exercise for a long time anyway. And in just a few weeks I had stopped my salat altogether. I remember being astonished that a practice I'd been doing five times a day every day for almost 20 years could be dropped in less than a month. Wow; either this had all been false or I was really deep in kufr (disbelief)!
Once in a while I wonder what I'll be believing in 15 or 20 years. Will I still be a UU? One day might I be worshipping a sungod? I'm already learning songs that praise the Orishas - and the opposite of Muslim is Mushrik! Ohh, how my eyes have changed. What other identities will I have retained, ceased to care about, or taken on? I'm trying to keep track of Who I am at the very core, but I've rearranged things so much I don't even know where the core is anymore. Once in a while I'll casually wonder, Is this it? Is this the dunya (the world)? Is this what it means to be "out there in the dunya?" So many attractions and distractions; the more social and socialized I become and the more people I meet who are vastly different from myself, the more I develop - but at the same time, I'm growing away from knowing who I am or who I was, or what that even means: to be someone.
There are many things I miss about my old faith, but that nostalgia is all mixed up with the happy memories of childhood, seemingly endless days of unschooled solitude and a decade of hidden depression. I don't know if I was more centered then, or if my world was just so tiny. Maybe that feeling of growing removed from my old self is just a natural result of getting older, and it happens to most of us who reflect on such things. Maybe there is no "old self" to get back to.
