Ever since I was little all I knew was that I was muslim and there was nothing else I could know or be. I was to worship this God everyone was always referring to as Allah. My beliefs and faith were already chosen for me, before I got to form any opinion on it. Since I am a girl, things were much more difficult for me than for my brother or any of the males in this tough religion. Being in this religion for eighteen years has restricted me from a lot of life experiences that I wished I would have had. I didn't fit in to this religion, and I am glad that I didn't.
My childhood was a very confusing time for me, and the whole religion thing was the main reason for it. I loved to play any game that I had the resources and energy to participate in. From riding bikes to climbing walls to digging holes I would be there. The outdoors was my home, but my parents hated my love of sports and adventure. One day I was going to go out to the park with my cousins and brother but my mom called me in and said I was prohibited to play with the boys. At age seven, I couldn't care less if they were monkeys, as long as they could play a good game of hopscotch or give me a good race, I would play with them. Instead I was forced to stay inside, peel onions, and help clean the house. This was how it is supposed to be, my parents told me. Girls are supposed to stay home, cook, clean, and study. It seemed to me that girls were supposed to be slaves.
Soon it got worse as my mom forced me to wear a hijab, or scarf, to school. All the children looked at me as if I was a creature from a whole other world and treated me like I was a loser. Immediately I decided that I would quit wearing it. Only when I got out of school would I put the scarf on for my mom's approval. Inside, I felt that I was being demeaned and punished for being who I was and forced to stay hidden and closed from everyone else.
An experience that I really missed out on because of Islam was ballroom dancing. Our class would get lessons on Tuesdays and Fridays and two women would teach us. We would be paired up with a boy and we were going to learn dances such as merengue, salsa, the swing, and the foxtrot. The first class was the only day I got to dance before my mom found out. I danced with a boy named Stanley, and it was so sweet and pleasant. He escorted me to the dance room and we learned the steps to the merengue; and when the music came on, I felt like this was just another sport and I was having a great time.
When I got home I told my mom what an amazing day I had, but she was infuriated and began yelling at me. "Why were you dancing with a boy?!" She then told me that, in Islam, girls were not allowed to look at boys and touching them was out of the question. I wanted to scream at her and tell her that I liked the dancing and I wasn't giving it up no matter what. The following Friday my teacher told me I was excused from dancing and my mom explained everything. The rest of the year I spent on a bench watching my classmates learn new dances and having an amazing time.
I didn't understand why Muslims had to pray five times a day every day when Christian people prayed once a week. I told my mom to save time we should convert to Christianity. She loved the slap she laid on me, and I never said those words again. I began to realize all the things Christian people could do that I was prohibited from doing. I couldn't eat pork, I couldn't wear shorts or show my legs or my arms, I couldn't have friends that were boys, I had to cover my skin other than my face and my hands, and dancing was never going to happen. All I wanted was to be a normal kid, hang out, and have a good time; but this sad, lonely religion didn't want that for me.
I soon got familiar with fear. I lived in it, breathed it and bathed in it at times. Praying and fasting are basically the ticket to heaven in Islam. Sometimes I would either get lazy and not pray, or forget to pray. Those nights I wouldn't sleep, thinking that I was going to hell and nothing was going to save me. There was a guide on how to shower properly and that was where I drew the line. No one was going to tell me how to take a bath.
As I read more about the religion there were sayings in Arabic you had to recite for many situations. For example, there is a saying after you hiccup, yawn, sneeze, one for getting out of the house, before and after using the bathroom, one before eating and after eating, the list goes on. Also I learned, before you went to sleep, you had to say some passages from the bible, and you had to enter the bathroom with your left foot and leave with your right foot. Rules, rules and even more rules. I wasn't happy, and this so called Allah was beginning to sound more like a dictator rather than a God.
It was really difficult living in a religious family where I didn't have but the tiniest drop of faith in me. It was all just worthless. The praying, the fasting, the ignoring of the male gender. It just wasn’t me. I didn't fit in anywhere it seemed. I was always the oddball at school, at home, and now, I didn't even belong to a God. I see any religion as a subject to study like history and math but I felt no love, none whatsoever, for any Allah. But for the sake of my family I still pray, fast and try my best to be the best fake muslim daughter they could want.
We don't always get the life we wish we had, but we can always fight for the one we want.
©2013 Jarin Rahman
My childhood was a very confusing time for me, and the whole religion thing was the main reason for it. I loved to play any game that I had the resources and energy to participate in. From riding bikes to climbing walls to digging holes I would be there. The outdoors was my home, but my parents hated my love of sports and adventure. One day I was going to go out to the park with my cousins and brother but my mom called me in and said I was prohibited to play with the boys. At age seven, I couldn't care less if they were monkeys, as long as they could play a good game of hopscotch or give me a good race, I would play with them. Instead I was forced to stay inside, peel onions, and help clean the house. This was how it is supposed to be, my parents told me. Girls are supposed to stay home, cook, clean, and study. It seemed to me that girls were supposed to be slaves.
Soon it got worse as my mom forced me to wear a hijab, or scarf, to school. All the children looked at me as if I was a creature from a whole other world and treated me like I was a loser. Immediately I decided that I would quit wearing it. Only when I got out of school would I put the scarf on for my mom's approval. Inside, I felt that I was being demeaned and punished for being who I was and forced to stay hidden and closed from everyone else.
An experience that I really missed out on because of Islam was ballroom dancing. Our class would get lessons on Tuesdays and Fridays and two women would teach us. We would be paired up with a boy and we were going to learn dances such as merengue, salsa, the swing, and the foxtrot. The first class was the only day I got to dance before my mom found out. I danced with a boy named Stanley, and it was so sweet and pleasant. He escorted me to the dance room and we learned the steps to the merengue; and when the music came on, I felt like this was just another sport and I was having a great time.
When I got home I told my mom what an amazing day I had, but she was infuriated and began yelling at me. "Why were you dancing with a boy?!" She then told me that, in Islam, girls were not allowed to look at boys and touching them was out of the question. I wanted to scream at her and tell her that I liked the dancing and I wasn't giving it up no matter what. The following Friday my teacher told me I was excused from dancing and my mom explained everything. The rest of the year I spent on a bench watching my classmates learn new dances and having an amazing time.
I didn't understand why Muslims had to pray five times a day every day when Christian people prayed once a week. I told my mom to save time we should convert to Christianity. She loved the slap she laid on me, and I never said those words again. I began to realize all the things Christian people could do that I was prohibited from doing. I couldn't eat pork, I couldn't wear shorts or show my legs or my arms, I couldn't have friends that were boys, I had to cover my skin other than my face and my hands, and dancing was never going to happen. All I wanted was to be a normal kid, hang out, and have a good time; but this sad, lonely religion didn't want that for me.
I soon got familiar with fear. I lived in it, breathed it and bathed in it at times. Praying and fasting are basically the ticket to heaven in Islam. Sometimes I would either get lazy and not pray, or forget to pray. Those nights I wouldn't sleep, thinking that I was going to hell and nothing was going to save me. There was a guide on how to shower properly and that was where I drew the line. No one was going to tell me how to take a bath.
As I read more about the religion there were sayings in Arabic you had to recite for many situations. For example, there is a saying after you hiccup, yawn, sneeze, one for getting out of the house, before and after using the bathroom, one before eating and after eating, the list goes on. Also I learned, before you went to sleep, you had to say some passages from the bible, and you had to enter the bathroom with your left foot and leave with your right foot. Rules, rules and even more rules. I wasn't happy, and this so called Allah was beginning to sound more like a dictator rather than a God.
It was really difficult living in a religious family where I didn't have but the tiniest drop of faith in me. It was all just worthless. The praying, the fasting, the ignoring of the male gender. It just wasn’t me. I didn't fit in anywhere it seemed. I was always the oddball at school, at home, and now, I didn't even belong to a God. I see any religion as a subject to study like history and math but I felt no love, none whatsoever, for any Allah. But for the sake of my family I still pray, fast and try my best to be the best fake muslim daughter they could want.
We don't always get the life we wish we had, but we can always fight for the one we want.
©2013 Jarin Rahman