Being Muslim and Not Dating Part 1

You  know what I'm really grateful for as a 23 year old Muslim?
...that I have never been in an intimate relationship for as long as I have lived. I'm talking about the love that goes beyond the platonic relationship we have with friends and family. The sad thing is, we grew up in a society where falling in love is considered to be the best thing since water (yes, I know I'm generalizing, but hush hush. I'm trying to make a point).  To find the other half of our soul is a noble goal that everyone has on their bucket list. I think for Muslims, this can be a bit more difficult than normal. While most of our peers are going in and out of relationship year after year, we're stuck being single praying that we wouldn't have to do anything forbidden or risky. I don't blame Muslims for getting married early or "settling down" early. You do you. It's damn hard trying to live up to what the world finds to be peaches and cream.

On another note, why do we long for another soul to understand us? Why do we yearn to find a person who would be constant in our life in a world that changes daily? I don't know the answer to my questions. I could wrap my brain around it and find an answer that I would be satisfied with, but I just don't want to do that at this moment in time. Living in such ambivalence is difficult. But you know what? I'm glad I was never in relationship as a teenager. Puberty was hell for me, adding a relationship to that fire would have increased that insecurity more than what the hormones were doing. I'm glad I was able to think about my future. I was able to dream. I was able to ponder about things that went beyond "love". We have eternity to find our other half, but let's not waste our time being miserable contemplating why that person is not in our life at this moment in time. Maybe, that ,in itself can be the reason I don’t date and am not interested in it.

My hand reaches to the sky hoping that you're doing the same thing wherever you are.~

(P.S. Yes, I am aware that there are Muslims who date and have relationships outside of marriage. Blah blah blah)

Hey there! #2

Hey there!
Yes, it's me again. I haven't written on here for a while now. I've been oh so busy in my own little mind that I just couldn't jot down my feelings  on paper (or the interwebs to be exact). I intend to write soon, very soon. prepare yourself to be bombarded with terrible grammar!

Goal (that I possibly will not follow because I never follow my own goals): Write a few reflection pieces during Ramadan :-) !
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One of the highlight of my previous Ramadan experience was reading and watching reflection pieces by Khalid Latif, Suhaib Webb, and Haroon Moghul. For a person who struggled with faith and spirituality, their perspective on life was thought-provoking and heartwarming.

I guarantee that my writing will not be insightful, but I honestly want to jot down some of my thoughts for this Ramadan. It may or may not be related to Ramadan specifically, but it will, as always, deal with how I perceive the world. 

Finding God in the Bathroom

(Note to self: I actually did not pray in the bathroom again after that one time. It felt so gross that I could not even concentrate on the prayers.)
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1/20/16 A.M

It's 3 o'clock in the night as I type this. Today will be the first day of my last semester in grad school (if everything goes smoothly, inshallah). I cannot sleep because my mind is flooding me with tons of thoughts and emotions. I keep crying because that's all I can do. Who would take the time out of their sleep to understand what I'm going through? It's my fault though, I should have never thought about death in the first place.

Let me explain myself from the very beginning. I had a very dandy day, and all of I sudden I attempted to do something new. In Islam, reminding yourself of death is supposed to help you appreciate life and use time more wisely and efficently. Thinking that it would be wonderful, I tried it. I have always had the feeling that I am not going to live long and thinking about that scares the shit out of me for so many reasons. I gushed out crying because there is a lot of things that needs to be done. It's winter, and in one of these day it will snow heavily. I'm going to mark my footprint on the pure snow. People will step over it, and it will eventually become muddy before it melts away. That's life. I have a certain period of time I have on Earth, and then I'll die. Then people around me will also. Eventually no one is this world will remember me. The snow will fall and other footprints will be made.
That being said, what is it that I want to do for myself?

Over these years, I feel like I'm slowly forgetting my own religion. I'm allowing what the world say to me to strip away the one thing that ever made sense to me; and the more I try retrieving it back, I'm not putting enough force to achieve what I want. How can things that were so clear to me become so foggy and distant? I know I've change and grown. My opinions have also shifted, but it doesn't mean that what I love and take pride should  be taken away from me by those people who aren't Muslims and those people who are "religious" Muslims. All my questions have answers but I'm not even willing to search for it. I remain still and cry instead of running to get what I want and need to satisfy my soul. I have other priorities in my life at this moment and time, but I'm not getting anything done. My answers are even written in books but it's so hard to finish reading anything. I cannot get through two pages before my mind shifts to something completely different. I cannot even finish a book so  I consider reading 3/4th of a book to be complete. It's really difficult. I'm like Calamitous from Jimmy Neutron. I can never finish anything.

As a Muslim, the 5 prayers are considered to be very important. If we go through any struggle, the prayers give us a way to reflect and have a conversation with the one and only. I'm going to be honest, I used to never prayed wholeheartedly. It was something that I felt mandated to do and never felt the pleasure in doing (that's one of the many reason I hate when people call me religious). Recently, I've been wanting to pray but I feel so uncomfortable praying at home. My mother and my sister would actually be delighted if I did, but that's the thing, I do not want to my pray to please them because it's not for them. It's for me and Allah. There was actually a day not too long ago when no one was home, and I found myself at peace praying so I know it's something I want to do. I just fear their presence. Eventually I'll have to get over it, but I don't think I can now. I'll be reciting surah Fatiah in the first Rakah, and one of my family member would pass by, and I'll stop my prayer as if I was never doing it in the first place.
I recall Imam Suhaib Webb saying that he discovered Islam in the bathroom because he was afraid of what his mother's reaction would be. I know this is probably forbidden in my faith, but I think I might start praying in the bathroom. Not public bathrooms, my home bathroom. I'm dreading this because it sound so gross to me, but I'll take a piece of cloth and pray on it until I feel comfortable being able to praying in public. Maybe I can find God in my bathroom. Maybe I can find some peace. One of my brother once told me that  his classmate would make up excuses so he could pray because it was kind of really hard to explain to people who aren't Muslim about the ritual. It's even more awkward when you don't have the space to pray, so your pray outside in public because you're r9unning out of time. I admire those people who are capable of letting go of all their fears and worries if they solely do it for God). It takes courage to follow faith properly.
Prayers are so different from duas. I find myself making duas all the time, but what's the purpose if I'm not doing the requirement of my faith?
Goal of this year: Find God in the bathroom (this will probably be a disaster because I fear places like that.) .

Future me. I know you'll definitely forget the feelings you're feeling at this moment, but I wish you remember even a drop. Jihad al-nafs. Jihad al-nafs. Jihad al-nafs!!! Remember, your struggle might seem insignificant to others, but it is significant to you. This is what you can handle, and this what you will get through.

SAHIH INTERNATIONAL Translation of Verse 2:286
Allah does not charge a soul except [with that within] its capacity. It will have [the consequence of] what [good] it has gained, and it will bear [the consequence of] what [evil] it has earned. "Our Lord, do not impose blame upon us if we have forgotten or erred. Our Lord, and lay not upon us a burden like that which You laid upon those before us. Our Lord, and burden us not with that which we have no ability to bear. And pardon us; and forgive us; and have mercy upon us. You are our protector, so give us victory over the disbelieving people."

Being a Muslim and Hugging the Opposite Sex 2/9/16

I live in the West. Time is changing. Gender is not binary. Blah blah blah.

But you know what?? I'm still Muslim! That means I grew up with some gender rules that I want to follow even as an adult. Hugging the opposite sex is one of them. I used to dislike hugs in general, but I passionately abhor hugging the male gender. That said, it's becoming harder to maintain that boundary. I no longer am capable of speaking up for myself and saying what I don't want to do. Can you imagine being in a room hugging everyone, and then you approach one male and you have say "Sorry, I cannot hug you because of my religion"? Do you know how uncomfortable it's starting to feel for me to even say that!?

I do not believe all hugs are sexual by any means, but I do want to follow my faith the best way I possibly can, and it's getting difficult to do so. I remember a few years ago I wrote to myself about the awkward hug I gave one of my classmates because he caught me off guard with our serendipitous meeting. I was polite and all, but in the back of my mind I was dying from self-hate and guilt because just a weeks before this took place, I firmly told another guy I did not give hugs. He understood and gave a handshake instead. How is it that I was able to tell this one guy, but I was no longer able to tell anyone after that? I'm so frustrated at myself!!

Recently, a middle-aged (old?)man asked me to give him a hug, and I quickly embraced him. I didn't want to, but I did not have the heart to say no to someone like him. He made me feel like a little girl and I viewed him as a guardian figure.  How could I say "no" in moments when there is no time to think or formulate an elaborate sentence to express politely what I can and cannot do without it sounding irrational, super-conservative, and ridiculously insensitive? The problem is, I think way too much. That's why I like it when the opposite sex knows/chooses not to approach me with a hug because I for sure will never initiate a  hug with anyone who identifies as the male gender. Thank you to those who do not ask. Thank you for allowing silence to be the awkward moment instead of the hug! I appreciate it greatly.

You know, I attempted not to give handshakes when I was younger as well. I never knew handshakes were "forbidden" until my sibling mentioned it. I kudos her for being able to not give handshakes to the opposite sex even until now. I gave up on that long ago. I did not feel it was practical for me as with many other Muslims living in the West ( I assume this rule also applies to some people in the Orthodox Jewish community? I might be wrong). I do not think I'm going to hell either for that because it's quite necessary for me to give handshakes daily (although I do not see why people view handshakes as a way to greet people. One word: Germs!! You never know, the person you choose to have a handshake with could have picked his nose before he touched your hands, or gone to the bathroom without washing his hands. I digress) That being said, the hugging "rule" makes me ponder about how much  I am willing conform to satisfy societies standard? How much will I compromise my faith to make others accept me and feel comfortable around being near this eccentric Muslim?

I have not doubt, guilt, or shame when I handshake someone of the opposite sex. However, I'm afraid there will be a point when I'll have no doubt, shame or guilt for hugging the opposite sex. I  have a feeling I'm going to justify my actions to myself even though it's not necessary. This type of guilt helps me stay true to myself, and I do not want to lose it so I can fit and be normal.  But I'm afraid...I'm afraid.

Side story: I knew an older Muslim woman who felt guilty for handshaking her doctor. She lived in Bangladesh most of her life, so handshakes casually were never something she had to do because that was not part of her culture. It felt haram for her. That got me curious; this older women gave hugs to distant male relatives that were not her Mahram, and she felt comfortable with that.

 It's interesting how culture can play a role in what we feel guilty for about our religion.

Update: 5/29/16 Right after I wrote this, I started to give hugs to the opposite gender. In fact, in some cases, I was the one who initiated the hugs! It just became too hard  for me to not to do a gesture that is so very common to do. The guilt that I had is slowly diminishing, and I hate it. It's funny how life works. When I wrote this particular blog post, my intention was to reassure myself of my original intention, but here I am! Being my predictable self, and doing the opposite of what I intended to do.

To all those who have the capacity to follow the things they believe in wholeheartedly, I will always admire you, even when I cannot do it myself

Hey there!

It's been awhile since I wrote to myself on this blog. In truth, I have more than 4 drafts sitting on  my computer, but I do not have the patience to read it over and post it here.

God, I'm never consistent. When I make goals for myself, I slowly back away from it even when the goal is simple like keeping up with my own blog/writing/artwork.

Anyway, peace out. Forever. Fornever.

Confusion

The poems I write confuses me. I know I purposely speak in metaphors so my future-self won't remember, but nothing seems to make sense without context. 

 

3/3/14

 

The world tossed you up to the sky,
caught you before you landed on the cold pavement,
and threw you down the rabbit hole.

Sweet nostalgia

"Look at my eyes, Faye. One of them is a fake because I lost it in an accident. Since then, I've been seeing the past in one eye and the present in the other. So, I thought I could only see patches of reality, never the whole picture. I felt like I was watching a dream I could never wake up from. Before I knew it, the dream was all over. " - Spike Spiegel, Cowboy Bebop

 
It's amazing how nostalgia works.

One minute I'm sitting in a room trying to put some of my stuff together, and then all of sudden a memory pops in my head, and I am gone from reality. No matter how hard I try to remain present, the memories somehow suck me into a vortex of the past.

There is a possibility that I actually enjoy the spontaneity of memories bursting into my head and fogging my eyes from seeing what exist in front of me.

But you know, it's a bitter-sweet feeling to be able to connect to my younger self. I admire my 7-year-old self. Nothing ever phases her. She is so sure of what she is doing. She is curious and has a zest for life. She is unbelievably ignorant about the things that are really happening that she can maintain her tenaciously fierce attitude and still be shy, quiet, and quirky. I wonder, will there ever be a time I can become like her again?

Having said that, I do not want to be a 7-year-old. I do not wish to repeat my childhood again. Given how I act, I am pretty sure I will make the same mistakes over and over and still force myself to believe that putting muster on my pizza is the most delectable cuisine in the world. No matter how much regret I have for all the stupid things I've done (and haven't done), if I ever had the chance to go back to the past, I'm a 100% sure that I will not be able to change anything because my reaction is always based on the circumstance I'm placed in. I do no think I can stop myself from feeling how I feel even if I knew the outcome of the situation.... also, I probably will still pee on my pants every time we will go to family picnics or places far away because I will always be so engulfed by the moment that I won't even realize that I'm drinking gallons of juice bottles without having used the bathroom in the morning.

It's interesting. As a 23-year-old looking at the past, I cannot help but laugh and feel sorry for myself (puberty was hell, but we're not gonna talk about that). There's so much I did not know, and there is so much I do not know. We are who are because of our experiences. The memories that we claim are so dear changes with time. Memories are not constant, and the feelings evoked from remembering moments are not constant either. Even now, I'm finding puzzle pieces to the past that I never knew existed. I cannot see the entire universe by sitting at the edge of the cliff. I can see parts of the earth that is in close proximity, but never the whole thing. The same goes for my past, and I am okay with that because that is life. (*cough*similar to memory implantation. Look at this article *cough*). And yet, I'm still captivated by something that is beyond my reach; something that I cannot hold, touch, smell or hug.

 Unfortunately for me, if I'm not thinking about the past, I'm also fantasizing the future. I wish my dreams of the years to come were rational, but they're straight up fiction. I cannot help but create a world that doesn't exist and will never exist. I think I'm so stressed out that in order to avoid the feeling of fear, I see the past in one eye and the future in the other. I'm living in a dream where the present is not reality.

"Where're you going? Why are you going? You told me once to forget the past, 'cause it doesn't matter... but you're the one still tied to the past, Spike! My memory… finally came back…but… nothing good came of it. There was no place for me to return to; this was the only place I could go." -Faye, Cowboy Bebop

Culturally Muslim

My entire life, I defined a Muslim as an individual who believed in the oneness of God and that Muhammed, peace be upon him, was the last messenger (give or take on the latter part of this declaration because of the various sects Islam has nowadays). It never mattered to me whether the person was devout or non-practicing, as long as he/she believed in the basic premises of Islam, then he/she was, in fact, a Muslim.

I believed that Islam was not something that could be "inherited" through blood. That meant that just because my father was Muslim, did not mean that I was automatically a Muslim. Our blood did not make us special-- we chose to be Muslims and, therefore, we were Muslims. 

"All mankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white has no superiority over a black, nor a black has any superiority over a white- except by piety and good action." ~ Some translation (I obviously found and copied/pasted from the internet) of Prophet's last sermon.

We have free-will. We get to choose our faith. I believed in that so much because unlike Muhammed (S.A.W), I was not Arab. I was just this Desi chick in a White world who did not really fit the mold of what was considered to be awesome-sauce. So, there was no way that I would willingly follow a faith that saw me as second-class. I did not need that bullshit. Similarly, that was the reason I was glad that Muhammad was Arab. Most of the lovely prophets before Muhammad were Jews. He (S.A.W) was just this oddball that added another color to the mosaic glass that was meant to describe prophet-hood (no pun intended).

Anywho, I did not think Islam was meant for a specific group of people. That being said, if someone did not believe in the declaration of faith, then he or she was not Muslim. In my family, I have a few people that were not Muslims, and I chose to make sure that I did not consider them Muslims. Not because I was some pretentious butthole, but because I thought it would be disrespectful to my religion and to the people who had left that faith. Why be labeled as something that you have no connection or feelings for?

But I digress, recently I had a conversation with two people, and it slightly changed how I viewed religion, especially Islam.

 

Person 1:

She claimed that she was Muslim, but she neither practiced nor believed in God. While I questioned her out of sheer curiosity, she stated that she grew up with Islam. It was part of her culture and how she was raised. Even though she verbally expressed that she did not believe in God, she had moments and still has moments when she calls out to Allah when placed in troubled situations. "I might not believe, but maybe my subconscious does.

It took me a while to completely soak that in and attempt to understand its complexity. I was raised to believe in God. I've tried not to believe in Him, and I just could not do that. Regardless of being "conditioned", I still found myself a bit upset that I could not discover this path without it being "passed down" to me (I'm also really grateful for it, but that is a different story). I felt a little startled from hearing her because I knew people who left Islam after practicing it since birth; I did not consider them Muslims because that was not who they were. However, after hearing her, I stepped back a tad bit; I do see the influence Islam and the Islamic culture still has on those people. Some of their actions and reactions toward certain things show how Islam continues to play a role in their life for the good, the bad, the pretty, and the ugly.

 

Person 2:

This particular person talked about a Muslim she was close to. At a very young age, the Muslim person was forced to leave his country because of his religious beliefs. Eventually, this person was raised in the U.S. He never practiced Islam and knew anything about it. Nonetheless, he still considered himself to be Muslim even when some community members believed otherwise.

This story was easier for me to process. The person's community was being persecuted for their belief system. Whether the person chose to practice it later on in life was not important. The person's childhood was drastically changed because of religion!!

Now, I'm still  fascinated because Islam could be seen as a culture in the greater scheme of things. I may never completely accept it, but I can see and fathom it! If this person wanted to be known as a Muslim, then I have no right to say he is not. He went through more obstacles for being a Muslim than I possibly ever will

The Chosen Scarf

......njkkkkkkkkkknjb

Sindel Hijab

“Everyone has black hair, so I want to go to the salon and make mine brown!”

"My hair is so curly and wavy. One day I’m going to straighten it permanently.”

“You’re like the Pillsbury character. Anytime we poke your arm and it shakes, you giggle.”

“I am flubber!”


As a child. I always hated my unmanageable wavy thin hair. I am South Asian after all; I was supposed to be blessed with long, silky, Sindel-esque (dark) locks with preternatural powers. Naïve me never took genetics into consideration, ever. How was I not aware that both my parents had curls in their hair and that I was just a creation mirrored after some of their features?

Let’s move forward to what happened a year ago! I was in the public bathroom trying to fix my hijab, and two women came by to wash their hands and fix themselves up. They both had lavishly commercial worthy hair that I was only able to appreciate for a few seconds before they left.
I was still in the bathroom trying to fix my damn hijab because it would not stick to my head. And then I noticed something about my scarf that I probably was not aware of for a very long time.

Over the years, I did not care to “fix” my hair. I no longer wanted brown hair, and I no longer wanted to straighten the crap out of my curls. Those things no longer concerned me; so as I looked at the mirror in that public bathroom, and I realized that it was thanks to my hijab that I felt that way. I never had to compare my physical appearance with others (to some extent). Have dandruff? Wear the hijab! Have a bad hair day? Wear the Hijab! Don’t want to put effort into your looks? Wear the hijab! Have lice? Wear the hijab!!! :p.

I’m joking, but in all seriousness, for a person who compared herself a lot, that was one thing I never had to compare myself with. Also, because I personally believed my hijab was meant to cover more than my hair, I realized that I never cared for how my body looked either (I also think this has to do with the fact that we never had a weight scale in the house).  I always got told that I was skinny or I was supposedly healthy. I am neither, though. My eating habits are terrible (munch, munch, munch), and I’m not tone at all. Some of my family used to always poke me because my skin would (and still does) bounce when touched. Even now, I’m very happy that I can associate myself with flubber.  :D.

So anyway, thank you hijab for doing something that I was completely unaware of.

Why the Hijab Sis?

Ah, the hijab. How is it that a piece of cloth that we put on top of our hair be so controversial? No, seriously, I am still trying to figure that out. I do not completely understand that controversy unfortunately. 

Since the word “Hijab” is not explicitly mentioned in the Quran, whether the hijab is compulsory or optional is debated frequently amongst Muslims. I’m no scholar, but in my opinion, the headscarf is obligatory-- similar to how we are supposed to cover all of our awrah. Nonetheless, as mandatory as I believe it is, I also think wearing the hijab is a decision that every Muslim woman should make on their own. The reason being, most of what we (I) do as Muslims are based on our niyah (intention). Intention is so important in Islam that I do not think it make sense if we simply wear the hijab to show-off or to get praise from others.
That gets me thinking, to the Muslim parents and family (especially those living in the West) who believe that the hijab is the most important thing before the prayers, why do you force your daughters to wear it when they are reluctant to do so? Sometimes, I think it is simply because most of our faith is based off of what the Muslim community will think about us and less about how the children feel about their faith and the obligations of their faith, but I could be wrong...

I grew up in a South Asian household, so I am aware that the hijab can be a cultural part of our identity as much as it can be a part of our religious identity. I always understood the meaning of the hijab through an Islamic framework, but the cultural hijab never made sense to me. Moreover, I always struggle with my hijab because it involves trying to explain to people that the extra piece of cloth I wear is part of my identity. There are moments when it is hard to wear it because I hate being noticed. I’d rather be in the corner of a room and crawl inside a rock, but that is obviously impossible to do. Sometimes, I hate talking about it because the assumption is that the hijab is forced, so I find myself explaining what the hijab is meant from my perspective or from the perspective of the majority of the Muslims I know. However, I always feel sad when talking about it because Muslim women wear the hijab for various reasons, and I cannot explain it all.

Reason why Mulimahs' may wear it
·         Cultural reason (Islamic culture vs. ethnic culture)
·         Pleasing the family/community/friends/spouse.
·         For God. :)
·         Considers it an obligation, so they follow it
·         Forced
·         To be seen as a person of intelligence and not an object.
·         Identity
(There are probably many more, but I’m just not aware of it at this moment. When I get the time, I might elaborate on some of them that relate to me, but for now, I’ll just leave the list the way it is)

Anyway, the reason I’m writing this blog is to explore the reason I wear the hijab. I’ve worn it since I was in 2nd grade so obviously the reason I wear the hijab has evolved throughout the years. There are days when it becomes difficult to wear it, and then there are days I’m so comfortable with this piece of cloth. I want to discover how big of a role does the hijab have in my identity. How big of a role does the hijab have in the way I act? And, how big of a role (if any) does the hijab have on how others react towards me?
There are so many things that I am confused over, and I do not think the answers will be found overnight. Still, I’m willing to search for it….