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….