Captain’s Log: Day Six
Finding your people.
It’s easier said than done.
But to be recognized? That’s even trickier.
It’s been almost fifty years that I’ve lived in America. And while my family is as diverse as it comes, especially after marriage and having children, the world around me, not so much.
You see, we’ve always been a minority within minorities, my family and me. And for the earlier part of my life, growing up in the 80’s, in a remote southern town, in the Appalachian mountains, as a Muslim family, may not seem easy (we were the first of the kind for years) but on the contrary it actually was.
Those were the simpler times in life. And while every minority faces challenges, we were fortunate to live amongst people whom not only did we build mutual respect for one another we became closely connected to too.
Our “good ol’ days” were filled with innocent times outdoors running from neighbor’s to neighbor’s homes, hanging out in their living rooms, playing checkers and other basement games, running through each others’ yards, eating healthy snacks provided by each others’ families.
Grabbing a glass, an actual glass, of water at your friend’s house was as awkward as drinking out of their water hose…not awkward at all.
We lived free of technological advancements dictating our lives through screens and lived a genuine Americana experience instead.
I was fortunate for this life and for all of the amazing people who genuinely “made it easy” for me to be comfortable being me.
My comfort in who I was, and still am, comes from my father. He always instilled in me confidence and pride. Never have I felt embarrassed of who I am because of this. Those who know me, know this well. My mother was the one will filled me with compassion, empathy and joy. Her kind soul taught me well. I pray I was able to pass this on to my children.
And while I look back at this charmed life, I recall that even though we acclimated and presented ourselves incredibly well, there wasn’t much evidence of who we were or rather our faith outside of our home.
Yes, we were always open about being Muslim and, Alhumdulillah, for the most part, people embraced us for it.
Looking back, it was us who did all of the educating of who Muslims are, how we live, our faith, and what we do.
But today, it’s different.
Now that we live in a much larger city, the contrast of where I was then and where I am now, in term of religious expression, is huge.
For the first time in my life, I don’t have to educate. For the first time in my life I am seeing Ramadan decorations in business lobbies. For the first time in my life, as I take an evening stroll, I see yards in December decorated with Santa from our Christian neighbors and during Ramadan the remaining yards are filled with lights, signs and inflatables for Ramadan and Eid.
Outside of that, restaurants and food trucks open extended hours welcoming those fasting, safe spaces to eat. Genuinely, it’s a culture shock but a welcome one, indeed.
Even my afternoon social media scroll has pleasant surprises from businesses wishing us well during Ramadan while other organizations and entertainment venues are taking the time to educate others about us too.
With a breath of fresh air, I can breathe. Suddenly, it’s not just me. The pressure to educate is less while my comfort and ease is more. This year, I can do it solely because I want to, but because I have to.
But even so, I am grateful.
Grateful for my friends who are open to asking questions and are always willing to learn. Grateful to those who sought and gained accurate knowledge and changed their perspectives and work to change the perspectives of others too. Grateful that I always felt and always was safe in the process. Sadly, not everyone is always that fortunate, teaching people about a faith different than yours, unfortunately can have its risks.
I’m grateful that God blessed me with the ability and courage to represent my faith and respectfully educate people about it too.
Most of all, I’m grateful to have met all of you because without you and your willingness to understand, willingness to change and willingness to seek and hear the truth…we’d still be a world divided. And now, not only do I feel hope, I visually see it too.
So, did I ever find my people? Of course I did. Alhumdulillah, they’ve been with me all along.
(Alhumdulillah: Praise be to God)
