Love My Ummah

Jummah

Friday was a good day, since I skipped out of work two days early I had it off so I could go to Jummah. Woot! And then while in the khutbah lo and behold in comes Rahma! She of the Masjid An-Nur miraculously had the same day off as me and attended the Jummah at the masjid closest to our houses (she and I live quite close to each other.) It was fate. Afterwards we were chatting and I mentioned that I wanted to speak with Br. Samir Saikali who gave the khutbah (MashAllah wonderful brother if you ever get a chance to know him, his story is amazing) to ask him about the legality of amending my marriage contract to include a clause on second wives.

Many sisters do not know this but we can put clauses in our marriage contracts, it is perfectly legal according to shari'ah. The sister would write that in the cases of:

- the brother abandons her for 1 month (or more/less depending on desire)
- the brother marries a second wife

then she reserves the right to divorce herself one finalized divorce.

When I got married I was not given the opportunity to put any clauses in our marriage contract, also the marriage contract was in Arabic and I was not able to read it over before signing it. Alhumdulillah my husband is a trustworthy and God-fearing man and so I was not taken advantage of, but this is a very good example of why converts need to find trustworthy Islamic Guardians. I'll repeat myself: CONVERTS MUST FIND TRUSTWORTHY GUARDIANS to protect her interests. I do have a trustworthy walee (guardian) however I got married in Egypt and he is in Minnesota. Also the marriage was put together in four days and I was too busy trying to remember to breathe to remember that I could amend the contract and that I should get it translated before signing it. It was not the fault of my husband either because he was even busier than I during this period and cannot be blamed for forgetting to ask me if I wanted anything amended in it. Also I just don't think it ever occurred to him, SO many sisters (born Muslim and convert alike) do not know their rights! and justly he may have never known a woman to put such clauses in her contract.

But we can, and what I wanted to ask Br Samir was how I should word the amendment I wanted to add to my marriage contract, unfortunately soon after the khutbah and prayer the brother left and I missed my chance. Instead Rahma offered to have me over at her apartment so we could look over a couple of VERY good Islamic books about marriage and marriage contracts so we did, I wrote an amendment which her husband offered to translate into Arabic for me and translate my marriage contract into English as well for me. MashAllah, they are an awesome couple.

Then Rahma and I rolled wara 3einab (stuffed grape leaves) and ate dinner. I had a wonderful evening with her.

Halaqa and Cookie Kisses

After leaving Rahma's house I headed over to Dar Al Farooq for the friday night halaqa to spend some more time with my sister-friends there before I leave for Egypt *sniffle*. One thing I love about the friday nights at DAF is that so many converts and sisters married to converts are there. And most of them have babies that I get to play with and small gorgeous children to love to cuddle. One such little girl is my favorite. The last time I was at halaqa her mom told her they were leaving so she should say salaam and hug the sisters before they left to which the little girl proceeded to circle the entire women's section giving every single person a hug. MashAllah it was the most adorable thing. This most recent Friday I was playing with some other babies and once I had given them back to their moms I was dive bombed from out of nowhere by this cuddle-bug. She crawled onto my lap and smothered me with hugs and kisses. It was delightful but then the most amazing thing happened: while in the midst of being smothered by the little girl a little boy I had never really interacted with before came up and wrapped his arms around me as well. I quite literally found myself myself draped in cuddly children. It was one of those supremely happy moments of life that I am sure I will remember when I am 80 and still smile. As the night went on the little girl ate cookies and gave me so many kisses that I was covered in cookie bits and never happier.

Alhumdulillah for life and for good friends.

And alhumdulillah for cuddly babies.

Following My Dreams

Literally.

My path to Islam was long, long, long in coming and has been heavily influence by dreams that I believe with utmost certainty came directly from Allah.

I had been wanting to post about this and never found an opportunity, but now I have been prompted by a similar post by the Saudi Stepford Wife and an evening bout of insomnia.

Dreams are intensely personal and their meanings and symbols are often only intelligible to the dreamer. Why do I want to reveal something so personal? I want to demonstrate that a connection to God is possible and, in many ways, tangible.

My first dream about Islam actually came when I was twelve years old. I think I must explain that while I had a fairly multi-ethnic upbringing it was definitely mono-religious. The most religious variance I had seen was between my Non-denominational Christian mother and my Catholic Christian aunt and the most religious choice in my city was choosing churches. I had, to date, met only one girl who was Jewish and my knowledge of her religion extended mainly to the draedl that she brought to show and tell. Oh, and I read Anne Frank.

So to have the dream I had, with the detail that I had it in, meant it had to have come from a source other than experience.

In my dream I was standing in a perfectly square room lusciously carpeted with the pile all laying towards one direction. The walls were solid wood and unadorned except for one on my left side which was ornately carved into a screen of ivy and flowers, beyond which was another room that I knew was there without needing to have entered it. A room I knew was meant for women while I was rebelliously standing in the room meant for men with my head uncovered. I could feel the judging eyes of unseen peers upon me but I didn't care, what I was focusing my attention on was the overwhelming presence of God I felt. I could feel God's love for me and sadness at my choice to not cover my head. I could bear the judgement of the others but it was God's sadness that broke my heart.

All these years I can still feel those emotions and I can still see every detail of the dream. At twelve I didn't know what a headcovering was, nor what these odd rooms were, but it made a mark on me deeper than I will ever realize.

I also had a dream around the same time of french-kissing a dark-skinned man with what I would later realize was a sunnah beard. The fact of it is that the man in my dream looked remarkably like my husband- although I didn't know that yet. I remember the dream because 1- I had never french-kissed and the dream was incredibly vivid and tangible and 2- the man looked nothing like any men I had ever seen in my life. Why I was sent this dream I'm not entirely sure, except that it may have had something to do with recognizing my naseeb when I met him (alhumdulillah.)

My other two important dreams came after I was Muslim and in response to marriage istikhara I had been praying at the time. One was for a proposal I turned down and the other was for a proposal I accepted. And the reason that I am revealing both of them is because they have eerie similarities.

With the first dream I had been making istikhara for weeks and refusing to listen to what my heart was telling me the answer was. You know when you have one desire in your heart and you want your istikhara to back it up no matter what? Yeah. Like that, except God finally sat me down and gave me an irrefutable answer in the form of another vivid dream.

I was standing in a room getting ready for the wedding, in my wedding gown, with everyone waiting for me and all I had left were to put the gold bangles on. But they wouldn't stay on my wrists; I would slip them on and they would slide right off again and I began to get irrationally afraid, I felt there was no way I could get married without the bangles. I abandoned the effort and slipped out the door trying to find my way out but was discovered and brought to the auditorium where the wedding was to take place. The groom and the sheikh officiating were sitting and waiting for me on a platform at the top of a large flight of stairs (remember the stairs for future reference.) Feeling as if I were facing my doom I started up the stairs but as I ascended one by one my body began to get heavier and the effort to climb higher became greater until at the top I was climbing on my hands and knees, heaving my thousand-pound body up one stair at a time. When I got to the top and was about to take my seat next to the groom I panicked and, in a moment of distraction, made a break for it, racing down a back way and out the doors. My groom came after me and when I realized that there was no escape I collapsed into the grass and wished for oblivion. He came and laid down next to me as if we were jut companionably watching the clouds float by. Eventually I mentioned that we should probably go back and he just laughed and answered, "Why? We're already married." At which I felt like my life was over and the weight of the world was crushing my chest and then I woke up.

There was no misinterpreting that dream, but when I brought it to a local sheikh I found that in dreams bangles/bracelets are synonymous with religion. If the bangle is so tight you can't get it off it is a good sign meaning that it will be good for your religion, but if it won't stay on it means that which you were praying about is bad for your religion.

But I already knew it.

When it came to the decision to marry my husband I only made istikhara a few times but the dream I received in response was as obvious in its meaning as the other had been.

My dream began with me relaxing in an unending and perfect green field beneath an unblemished blue sky. Pretty much exactly the windows xp default wallpaper down to the giant hill, I kid you not. And this area I was contently chilling in was called Islam, as in thats what it was labeled on the map. Anyways, as I was hanging out I got a call from my family that my cousin (Oogie's older brother) had been killed on duty in Iraq and my family was in mourning. I knew I needed to be with them so I walked to the white marble wall that marked the border between Islam and Jahilya and hopped back into oblivion. In Jahilyah (its actual name in my dream) it was permanent dusk and there was no life, I immediately forgot about Islam and entered into a zombie-like state. I hooked up with my cousin (Oogie's younger sister) and began to go around with her from party to party. I never drank or partook in the sexual orgies and disgusting past times that marked everywhere I could see but I was a silent observer of it all. Eventually depression engulfed me and I left my cousin behind to wander looking for happiness (exactly like I had before I found Islam) until I realized that my phone had been incessantly ringing. I checked my voicemail and found messages from my husband-to-be saying that he knew I was not the person I had become, that what I was doing wasn't me, and that I needed to return. In that moment I remembered Islam and realized what spell I had been under and I set off back towards Islam. I came to the marble wall but getting back into Islam from Jahilya was going to be harder than leaving it had been. To leave I jumped a four-foot wall, but now between me and the wall, which had become now one hundred feet tall, was a gaping divide filled with hellfire. In order to cross the ravine and get over the wall I had to climb up a staircase of thin, razor-sharp silver wires. I dutifully began to climb and as I did the wires cut my hands and feet and I could look down straight into the hellfires and the demons waiting inside. But each step I climbed I shed my sins and my body became lighter until the wires no longer cut me and I felt as I were floating. I got to the top and rolled over to land back in Islam where my husband-to-be waited for me dressed in pristine white clothing. I clung to him crying about the terrible dream I had had about being stuck in Jahilya but he only brushed it away smiling with love into my face saying, "Don't worry habibty, it was only a dream. You are Muslim and you don't need to worry about a thing, its all over," and I woke up completely content.

From that moment I never feared the future with my now husband. I felt completely at peace with the decision to marry him and this peace has carried through to every part of our lives together.

God has granted me the supreme blessing of receiving my answers in such a concise manner. Not all istikhara is answered by dreams, not all of MY istikhara has been answered in dreams, but when it mattered I was given an answer there was no way I could deny.

Its been a long journey, but the blessings and rewards are great.

And I guess, if one is to believe my dream, Islam/Janna looks a lot like windows xp.

Also something I found out after I had that dream is that the soul must cross a bridge of razor thin wire between heaven and hell, each cut the soul receives removes a sin so by the time it reaches Janna it is pure.

I'm only reciting this from memory and not from an actual source as I find myself quite tired now and ready to go to bed.

To sleep, perchance to dream.

The Wind Is Coming

I walked out of the store today into the fierce wind of a coming storm. I love these storms and these winds because they remind me of the beautiful, crazy, wild, and awesome thunderstorms of Minnesota summers. Hot afternoons broken by the relief of cool wind and rain, the smell of hot, wet asphalt, and the wild displays of lightening and ear-splitting thunder. They remind me of my childhood.

When the wind hit me this afternoon it brought to mind a poem I wrote many years ago which still remains a personal favorite:

The die is cast, the dead are born
Call out to the holy
The winds are
returning.

And I- I lie dead in a field of daisies
Kissing the sky
with an open mouth.
Swear love on the clouds as they pass the world by.
And I- I lie dead in the sky.

Wind, it brings change, destruction, devastation, renewal, it pushes the clouds, it moves the earth. When spring comes the wind churns the lakes to bring life back to the water.

In the movie Chocolat the wind keeps the protagonist moving from place to place like a vagabond.

The winds return, and I move. The wind and the storms remind me of home, of childhood, of that supreme peace that one remembers of days growing up. I will miss the miraculous thunderstorms of summer, I will miss the smell of fresh cut grass on saturday mornings and the purring of lawnmowers.

But thankfully I get to enjoy now: the beautiful afternoons of a flower-filled spring. And yes, the wind that comes before the afternoon thunderstorms and the sweet smell of hot wet asphalt.

The winds are returning and I will spread my wings and fly.

Al-Farhan Released

Saudi blogger Fouad Al-Farhan, who was detained by the Saudi government without charges for four months, was released on Saturday according to the BBC and another well-known Saudi blogger Ahmed Al-Omran who blogged the release on his site Saudi Jeans.

Alhumdulillah.

Journalism is not a crime!

Speaking your mind is not a crime!

Fight censorship for a free world.

Ps- this is my 100th post!

Dear God

Dear God,

Thank You for making today the quietest Monday I have ever worked.
Thank You for making all of my patients full of laughter (minus that one psycho.)
Thank You for making my coworkers awesome even though I missed the bus and came in 15 minutes late.
Thank You for knowing that I needed a break and for easing my heart.

Truly Yours,
Me

PS- Triple Thank You for my chiropractor who gives a discounted price to those without insurance AND had open appointment tomorrow morning. That definitely brightened my day.

After eating my entire Easter basket in 2.3 days...

I decided enough was enough and I joined the gym. My back was aching, I was feeling completely rundown, and I was depressed at the vaguely blob-like shape I was taking on. I'm a woman not an amoeba, thanks.

Oh and the "you having baby?" question I got while in Mexico last week really lit a fire under my rotund tuckus.

I went yesterday and checked out the women only Lifetime in Rosedale, expecting the price to be somewhere near atrocious but in fact found that it is only around $50 a month. Considering cholesterol and blood pressure meds would cost me a lot more than that in the future I decided it was a good investment. Plus I just really like working out, despite what my weight is trying to tell you.

I also love Lifetime Fitness, I blogged about my love of their cleanliness but I just cannot explain how much better it is for my psyche to workout with them. I've gone to Bally's, I've gone to 24hr Fitness, and I've checked out Gold's gym, but the energy, lighting, and disgusting locker-rooms always chased me away. But Lifetime, oh Lifetime, not only do they supply you with towels (which all the other places do not and please I don't want to schlep my towel around with me) but their locker-rooms are huge, cozy, and stocked with little things like lotion, soap (sage rosemary thankyouverymuch), and hairspray. The showers are such a luxury that I remember going to workout at the Lifetime before just because their showers were so much nicer than my one at home. I'm not even kidding.

And before I get too loquacious on their ammenities (awesome machines people) the best part of it was how many MUSLIMAHS I saw there. I mean, sure its a matter of logic- this is probably the only women only gym here in the TC not counting Curves- but I was SO excited to see them. When I went in the afternoon to check it out I counted a least four muslimahs working out. These chicks were hardcore working out in a woman's gym IN HIJAB (wha?) which I deem unnecessary, but hey, to each her own. And then when I went back in the evening I saw five MORE. These girls did like me and removed the headgear in the locker room, but I was so excited. I chatted a bit with a Palestinian girl who came in about the same time as me while we were working out. She had a bit of a chuckle while I had a heart attack on the elipses machine (why is that thing so thorough?) and it felt so good to have the camraderie. When I went before I was on my own, did my thing, and went home without talking to anyone. And yeah, I don't really plan on having any heart to hearts while walking the treadmill (besides the fact that I have a hard time talking between huffs and puffs) but its nice to smile at someone and have them smile back.

It was awesome. Alhumdulillah.

And sure, I feel like a walking muscle cramp today, but I feel SO GOOD. I'm so happy to be excersizing again.

Oh, and girls. I'm not tracking my weightloss in actual pounds. Before I went last night I had my mom measure my "womanly curves" and I will go by inches lost. Because really I don't care if I'm 250 lbs if I can fit into a size 6. Know what I mean?

I'm looking forward to feeling healthy again, inshAllah.

Now I'm off to the co-op. Healthy eating here I come.

Oh! They gave me an AWESOME Lifetime fitness water bottle too, for free. Its way cool. What, me? A sucker for free stuff? Nawww...

To Hijab or To Not Hijab

This is such a sensitive issue that I'm sure I'll get a flutter of angry comments regarding it, but I would like to preface it by stating that I am NOT God (in case anyone was confused) and I can NOT judge nor will I willingly judge anyone. There are pious women who do not cover, and completely black-hearted women who do. I have met both. If I offend you, this was not my intention. And if I offend you deeply, you might want to explore why the subject is so sensitive to you. I welcome any and all comments or discussions that this might bring up because I will attempt to outline my opinion while keeping both sides represented.


I am a hijabi. Does this make me a saint? Certainly not. Does this make me better than you? No, I would never be so vain as to ever consider it. I have my inconsistencies and my own sins and the fact that I cover my body and my hair does not automatically make me the best Muslim out of a group.

But every Muslimah who does not cover is submitted to a silent discrimination from the Ummah. It is assumed that they lack deen (faith) and are not good people. This is often ungrounded and unfair.

Or there are times when they actually suffer discrimination against the scarf from their families or their culture. I met one such sister whose husband refuses to allow her to cover although it pains her to not submit to what she considers the will of God. Or another Turkish sister I knew whose mother threatened to turn her out of their house if she took the hijab.

While I believe that every sister has her personal reasons for covering or not for covering, I can say that I, for one, don't agree with not wearing it.

Why?

Because its mandated by God. Simply.

Now, there are definite obstacles that many of us face. Like the sister whose husband doesn't allow it; I would absolutely not tell her to leave her husband in order to wear hijab. Why cover one bad by instigating another? Or the sister from Turkey who would have no place to live, and on her own with two small boys it would be a miserable life, what should she do?

Surely hijab is obligatory yes, but only God can judge their situations, and some are terrible situations, and then make the final call.

But the other sisters who are not in situations like these, I truly cannot understand what their motivation for unveiling is. What is in this world that can drive them to ignore something written in the Quran?

I am not saying that they are less pious for it, I'm just striving to understand why they make that decision.

And I have to be honest that, with the exception of a few convert friends- who deal with family issues that keep them from wearing the hijab- and a few sisters I know who are in similar situations to the two I mentioned above, most of the women that I know who do not veil do not pray as well or adhere to many other pillars of Islam.

While in Egypt, where wearing the hijab is as cultural as it is religious, I found many women who covered but did, said, and believed things that made my hair curl. I was sexually hit on by a woman who confessed that she ached to remove it but couldn't because her family wouldn't allow it.

But here in the US I have found that it is a different story. Many of those women, who are forced into hijab by society back home, take it off here and leave a religion they didn't believe to begin with behind in the process. While myself, and many other women, fight OUR society in this country to be able to wear it.

I have faced obstacle after obstacle. I have been shunned for it. I have lived penniless because of it. But, except for a miserable five week period, I could not bear the thought of removing it.

I'm not saying it makes me a saint, but I am using myself as an example. I have dealt with family shunning me, I have been without a job, I have been harassed, I have faced discrimination, but most of all I have taken pride in following my religion and, for me, wearing hijab was the easiest commandment to fulfill, second only to the commandment to believe that there is no God but God.

I am not saying that it is ok to judge someone's piety by the hijab because obviously this is both faulty logic and obviously not our place to do so. But I can honestly stand up and wonder what exactly is the reason that some chose not to.

Please, enlighten me. I am not here to judge, but to understand.

If you do not wear the hijab, why?

Because to me it seems like both the hardest and yet still the simplest decision to make.

I want to know, and I want to understand.

You like me! You really, really like me!

I had some good news brought to me on my sickbed yesterday, my post "Three Years And All My Life" was posted on Ijtema.net, a site which showcases Muslim voices and talents in the blogosphere. So I'm guessing that I have a lot more traffic on my blog than I had before, so to all of you who are new to my site, thank you! I hope that my idiosynchresies make someone else, besides myself, smile. Alone, I crack myself up all the time.

And I also found out that I have been considered in the final round of the Muslim-American Relationship Anthology! If my writing doesn't fail me now I could possibly become a published author along side many of the best female Muslim-American writers. InshAllah.

Some of my greatest dreams are coming true, alhumdulillah.

So, to everyone who reads me, and comments, and partakes in the general chaos that is my mind and writing, thank you.



*And thanks to M, who is my unofficial editor by virtue of having to sit by me all day at work. Pity her, its a hard life.

Three years and all my life

Its coming up on three years of being Muslim for me, only three years. See, I feel like its been my entire life already, like I was never anything else but Muslim. How is this that in three years I've lived one whole lifetime?

Maybe it was because I was half-Muslim for about 4 months before I took the plunge.

Maybe it is because the sleeping soul inside of me was Muslim long before I ever existed.

Maybe its because I really was recreated and born again the moment I took my shehada.

I don't know, but to me its been a lot longer than 3 years as a Muslim.

Its been my whole life.


* * * *


I don't remember the exact date I took my shehada, I think this is better and it may have been subconsciously intentional to not mark the day. I feel like to have marked it would mean I would have had to celebrate it every year that it came around. Like a birthay, I guess, which it is in its own right. But I don't think it is the day which is remarkable, but the event instead that changed my life.

As I said above, I playacted at being Muslim for about 4 months before I actually converted. It was like I knew I was, but my heart hadn't yet told my brain. I had never really been in denial before then so I didn't realize that while I was putting on hijab for an Islamic History class at the U I was really being who I was, and everything else was just an act.

I don't know how to explain it, its a singular insanity that is all my own.

I would be at halaqas in abaya and khimar and when other sisters asked me, "So, how long have you been Muslim?"

I would pause for a second and then answer quite matter of factly, "Well, actually I'm not."

What a strange creature I must have seemed.

And when that moment finally came where I realized that my thinking had changed from "if I ever became Muslim..." to "when I become Muslim..." it hit me like a bucket full of cold water. I probably even made a funny face.

I had denied it while living it for far too long.

I was reborn in my life the moment I took shehada. Wiped clean like a slate pockmarked with ground-in chalk. I swear I even felt like I sparkled from the inside. And thats when the real change began.

I made baby steps, I stumbled a lot, I never fell down but I emerged with the same scars an adolescent would carry on her knees. Bruised but still striving to become a fully-fledged adult. I even carried my Muslimness like the awkward limbs of a post-pubescent, unsure and wobbly, and not exactly comfortable inside her skin.

I grew and I rebelled, and I hit the point where it was fight or flight. I took off my hijab and tested the strength of my convictions, and in the end the only person I could rebel against was myself.

I put the hijab back on unhappy with the absence of what truly defined 'me' and I knew at that moment that there was nothing on earth that could make me return to what I had been. Not even the empty promises of a spit-shined dunya could tempt me away from the beauty of my religion.

And the instant I stepped out of my door and faced the world with my hijab again, the stares of my uni mates who had seen me with and then seen me without and then saw me again with, I grew up in my Islam. Like a graduation, I had passed.

I married my soulmate, possibly the only man who can tell me what to do and still have me love him for it. My patient teacher, my lover, my best friend, and my confidante.

With him I fulfilled the final half of my deen.

And in three years I find myself an adult in my Islam, having lived an entire life in so short a time.

So pardon me if, when asked, I reply that I have been Muslim my whole life.

Because in a sense, I truly have.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

EGYPT WINS THE AFRICAN CUP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MABROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK YA MASR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ya Masrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

مبرووووووووووووووك يا مصر

Congratulations Egypt!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes we need to be reminded...

That there are other things worse than those we are going through.

If you get a chance, check out this blog Impossibly Blue Skies and remember that no matter what happens in life: from God we are created and to God will we return.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon.

Dear God, PS- I love You.

This morning when I was praying fajr I had a sort of "I love You" moment during my supplication. And then I felt a little weird. Love for God is obviously a necessity in religion, but to say it in prayer... Does anyone else do that? And why did I feel weird? I guess its a God-knows-my-heart-so-obviously-already-knows type of thing, do I need to say it?

So PS- I love You.

My Two Piasters

So I'd like to talk a bit about some recent situations in the world regarding Muslims, not that everyone else with a blog hasn't already talked them to death. I just, well, want to put in my two piasters.

The situation in Sudan is atrocious. Seriously people. A woman polls her young elementary students on what they want to name a teddy bear- being used to teach about earth preservation- and THEY chose Mohamed. Its a popular name. When I was in Egypt every other guy I met was named Mohamed, so what the problem?

And to the Muslims who are picketing in Khartoum asking for the death sentence? Haraam! Who do you think you are? A woman during the time of the Prophet Mohamed (pbuh) used to throw trash PERSONALLY right onto the HEAD of our beloved Messenger, and she was not killed. In fact, upon the day on which she did not throw trash at him, he went to her house to ask how she was doing. THIS is an example of true Islam. Haraam haraam haraam upon those out there calling for her punishment! This is not Islam and this is not the way to be portraying uS and our beautiful religion. We should be acting as the Prophet Mohamed (pbuh) did because he is the best example of a Muslim we can base ourselves on. And what kind of outcome does this kindness get? The woman who threw the trash eventually became a Muslim.

Learn from the Sunnah of Rasulullah (pbuh), and behave like true Muslims.

I like this article from CAIR.

And I also like this blog from a Bengali in TO. A very humorous take on the whole thing.

Allah forgive the ignorant.

I also have a lot to say on the Saudi gang-rape victim, but not everyone may agree with me. Another day when I'm feeling more up to offending people, I might just write it down.

My two piasters for what they're worth.

Shout out

I was just reading another blog OrganicMuslimah and I felt the need to give props to my husband's family, and of course to my husband too.

When I went to Egypt and my husband and I got married I was terrified to meet his family. I had always seen the crazy MIL who never thinks any woman is good enough for her beloved son. And considering my husband is the baby of his family I thought it might be even worse. And I suppose it could have been were I not the person I am and were my MIL not the angel that she is. She was wary of me at first I know for certain, but the one and only factor that she needed to ascertain about me and my relationship with her son was how I was going to treat him and how much I would love him. As soon as she realized I was head over heels for her baby, and that I was a kind person who would love him and take care of him like she does, she accepted me with open arms. I adore her and I am so lucky to have her as a MIL. Alhumdulillah.

And despite me not being Egyptian and not being real savvy on the ins and outs of Egyptian culture, the rest of his family accepted me not only with open arms but an incredible wealth of love and kindness. I adore his brother, his brother's wife, and their kids. I love them so much its insane. I love his older sister and her children and I miss the twins so much. His younger sister was my best friend within the day we met and his father was my baba from the beginning. I have been so blessed to have them as my family.

And my husband, well... say mashAllah. He is my soulmate, my other half. Yes we have issues coming from two different cultures, and yes occasionally he tells me I can't do something in that Arab way he has. But I love him more than my life. Allah has given me so many blessings in so many ways, alhumdulillah.

So I want to give props to my husband for being amazing, and for his family for not being the normal crazy Egyptian family with baggage. I love you habibi, and I love my new family.

Alhumdulillah.

Love me? Love my hijab.

For the lack of being able to go outside, I decided to sit down and read through the (seemingly) thousands of convert blogs out there. Goodness we blog a lot I guess!! And I found a very funny blog from MyHijab about funny incidents while wearing hijab. So I decided to put down some of my own.

1.) Some of my first days as a Muslim, actually I may not have really even been Muslim at this time (there was a period of four months or so before I actually converted that I attended a lot of Muslim activities and wore hijab to them) but one of my first bad experiences was in downtown Minneapolis. I was walking to an ISNA convention in abaya and hijab and some guys rolled down their windows and yelled something completely intelligible but undoubtably foul at me as they drove by. It didn't bother me in the least, I just felt sorry for them.

2.) I wore abaya and hijab and niqaab into the house when my mom was home. This was for certain before I converted, in fact it was about 3 years before I converted. And she took one look at me and said "Dear God don't ever wear that into the house again!!! Someone might see you and that gang fighting between those sunnite and shees they might shoot up the house!!!!" I must attest that my mother is a million times more educated about Islam and Muslims now (and she now swears that she never said such a thing in her life) but it was incredibly funny.

3.) I wore abaya and hijab to an interview in Phoenix (I admit these were my conservative abaya and khimar days) and the interviewer looked at me and asked, "Now are you going to have to wear that costume?" I should have sued her, but whateva. I wasn't surprised when I didn't get the job.

4.) A little while after I converted I went to a "What is Islam?" workshop during Islamic Awareness Week on the U of Minnesota campus. A Russian guy sat next to me (uncomfortably close) during a slideshow presentation and afterwards asked me if I was a nun. I'm fairly certain he wasn't entirely right in the head, but hey! he was attending a workshop for understanding Islam. Maybe he became a Muslim, Allahu alem.

5.) During my early no-car Phoenix days I was taking the bus home from class and this really nice Navajo guy in a wheelchair (who "walked" me home everynight after the one night I was assaulted) asked if he could draw me because he loved how I looked in hijab. He also asked if he could hug me. I turned both offers down. But I was flattered.

And more recently in this job I work now, I get comments almost every day. All of them except for one have been really nice.

6.) Yesterday a teenage boy who often comes into the clinic, and who is incredibly sweet but mildly mentally disabled, asked me if what I was wearing was a "high-job" (his pronounciation of hijab) and then told me I was wearing a very pretty "high-job" it was very sweet. And it also happened to be right at the same time I was having an in-depth discussion with a convert who had been married to a Saudi- but who does not wear hijab and has very lovely fake nails- and is planning on going back to Saudi next week to be with her 7 children who live there. I also saw again a little girl who is roughly 3 years old and ABSOLUTELY SCRUMPTIOUSLY ADORABLE who upon the first sight of me a few weeks ago said "look mommy heejee" and pointed at me and then on the way out waved at me and said "salami". Her mom brought her in again yesterday and when I asked if the little girl had truly been saying "Salaam" to me last time she said yes and then explained that the little girl's father, her ex-husband, is Palestinian. I could have covered the girl's adorable little face with kisses. May Allah grant me a baby girl who is so gorgeous and sweet.

The one time I had a "negative" comment was from a feisty, spirited, and quite spiteful, old asian woman who wheeled herself past the front desk and when I handed her the labels for her visit asked me "why do you wear that?" with a vinegary face and tone of voice. I explained that it was part of my religion and her sweet, downtrodden, husband quickly wheeled her away with an apologetic smile.

Mostly the comments I get range from "what a beautiful color" or "your outfit is gorgeous" or "you are very pretty/you look very nice." Alhamdulillah. I am very lucky, in all honesty, to have the reception that I have from the people I work with and the patients who come to the clinic. I don't know if its a blessing from Allah on me specifically or a blessing from Allah on the area in which I live and work. But it IS a blessing from Allah. A good friend of mine, a 2month old convert, was fired the same day she showed up to work in hijab. SubhanAllah. She lives and works in the same area I do. But it didn't affect her outlook on being Muslim. She is a superstar in my eyes. Mamita sabes que te quiero mucho!!!

Oh! And one more hilarious story. I was working once in United Hospital in downtown St. Paul for a two day temp job assisting on the yearly employee satisfaction survey. The survey itself was offered in a LARGE range of languages which was very necessary, the scope of the different nationalities that work there is astounding. Yay for United! The second day I was there these three very sweet Tibetan ladies walked in with their interpreter to take the survey. They did not speak hardly any English but sure enough they looked right at me, smiled, and said "Assalaamu Alaykum." I was astounded. I asked if they were Muslim to which they looked at their interpreter who laughed and explained, "No they're not, but they work with a lot of the Muslims who work here so they learned how to say hello." How's that for employee diversity?

Allahu Akbar.