Eu condeno o ataque do Irã contra Israel pelo mesmo motivo que eu condeno o bombardeamento israelense do consulado iraniano, que também é o porquê que condeno a invasão russa da Ucrânia, que é também o porquê que achei que o filme recente Guerra Civil foi um dos melhores que jamais assisti, que também é o mesmo motivo pelo qual a minha filosofia de vida talvez possa ser melhor entendido assistindo M.A.S.H. Eis aqui: A Guerra. É. Um. Mal. Não há nenhum ideal elevado, nenhum diálogo grandioso, nenhuma comemoração gloriosa, nenhum princípio e nem valor e nem uma razão de ser significante a serem encontrados num campo de batalha, numa vala comum, vazando de um ferimento de uma bala e nem nos olhos de uma criança que já viu coisas demais, cedo demais. Enterrados por baixo dos escombros, podemos encontrar somente membros amputados e os cadáveres de bebês cobertos pelas suas mães como um último ato de amor altruísta – nada de grandes finais orquestrais. As barrigas vazias não podem ser satisfeitas por bombas, nem mesmo os corações desolados confortados pelo redesenho de rabiscos inúteis e imaginários num mapa desenhado com sangue. Pra mim, é tudo muito simples, tão simples que às vezes fico estupeficada e ainda também com uma raiva terrível pela nossa obtusa recusa coletiva de compreender isso: A Guerra. É. Um. Mal. Eu não finjo que o meu ódio dela vai pôr fim nela. Mas que fique claro que eu não assino abaixo de acordo com ela. Não importa quem seja, nem aonde for, ninguém deveria ser morto e nem matar. A morte não é solução. A violência não é justiça. O ódio não é verdadeiro.
I condemn the Iranian attack on Israel for the same reason that I condemn the Israeli bombing of the Iranian consulate, which is also why I condemn the Russian invasion of Ukraine, which is also why I found the recent movie Civil War to be one of the best films I’ve ever watched, which also is the same reason why my life philosophy could perhaps best be understood by watching M.A.S.H. Here it is: War. Is. Evil. There are no lofty ideals, no grand dialogues, no glorious commemorations, no principles or values nor a meaningful raison d’être to be had on a battleground, in a mass grave, spurting from a bullet wound, or in the empty eyes of a child who’s seen too much, too soon. Buried under the rubble, we can find only severed limbs and the corpses of babies covered by their mothers, in a final act of selfless love – not triumphant orchestral flourishes. Empty bellies cannot be filled by bombs, nor can bereft hearts be comforted by redrawing of useless, imaginary scribbles on a map drawn with blood. It’s all very simple to me, so simple that I am sometimes stupefied and yet also terribly angered by our collective obtuse refusal to comprehend this: War. Is. Evil. I don’t pretend that my hatred of it will stop it. But let it be known that I do not sign on the dotted line. No matter who or where, no one should kill or be killed. Death is not a solution. Violence is not justice. Hatred is not truthful.
(Scroll for English) Eu perdi aproximadamente 34 quilos do final de 2019 até 2021. E desde então tenho mantido o meu peso assim. Consegui recuperar a minha saúde ao ponto de me tornar numa atleta e completar uma maratona no ano passado (com planos pra mais uma esse ano). Eu aprendi a amar a pessoa que vejo no espelho. Não amá-la do jeito que muitas pessoas das mídias sociais falam: fingindo que está tudo bem quando não está, jogando a toalha ao invés de batalhar pelo bem-estar de verdade. Não, não. Aprendi a me amar de verdade, com o tipo de amor e respeito por mim mesma que me levou a me cuidar mesmo. Fiz o desmame de todas as químicas farmacológicas que eu tomava. Fui aos poucos ajustando a minha alimentação, tanto na quantidade quanto na qualidade. Adotei uma alimentação à base de plantas, majoritariamente orgânica e com calorias suficientes pra alcançar e manter o meu peso ideal saudavelmente.
Por ter desenvolvido a bulimia atípica (mais puxada pra a anorexia nervosa) aos meus dez anos, eu tenho um histórico longo e doloroso de ódio de mim mesma, uma guerra contra o meu corpo e uma falta completa de compreensão de como colocar a comida em seu devido lugar na vida. Depois que engordei com as substâncias farmacológicas, as doenças mentais e físicas e a tentativa de me recuperar do transtorno alimentar, eu desenvolvi ainda mais complexos quanto à comida e mais ódio ainda de mim mesma – não só da minha aparência mas da minha essência também. O processo de emagrecer foi um período de autoconhecimento, de desenvolvimento de amor, de reconhecimento de um potencial que eu nunca tinha enxergado antes e de uma realização de cessão de fogos. A guerra acabou. A paz foi estabelecida. Agora todas as partes de mim – o espírito, a mente, o corpo – vivem em harmonia.
Nesse processo eu também aos poucos fui aumentando as minhas atividades físicas. Pra quem tinha problemas de saúde que me impediam de ficar muito tempo em pé, treinar o meu coração a ter tolerância ortostática não foi fácil e necessitou muita paciência e determinação da minha parte. Mas, eu consegui. O Barkley me acompanhava nas caminhadas de 10 ou 20 metros que demoravam meia hora; ele tinha paciência o suficiente pros dois! Trabalhei no meu sono; me acostumei a seguir a rotina que eu sempre quis seguir, que é acordar e dormir com o sol. Trabalhei na minha mente. Comecei a meditar, praticar trabalho de energia e reprogramar a minha mente. E aos poucos os quilos e as dores foram me deixando e as minhas forças voltavam. A minha personalidade começou a mudar também. Entrei em 2020 como uma pessoa e saí dele já sendo outra, de muitas formas e muitos sentidos. Eu não senti e não sinto que segui ou sigo uma dieta; eu simplesmente, pra adotar as palavras do Michael Pollan, “Como comida. Não demasiada.”
Antes de começar a reformar a minha saúde, eu tinha a SPOT, fibromialgia, gastroparesia e a enxaqueca crônica, fora as supostas doenças mentais que sumiram instantaneamente quando em novembro de 2019 eu me afastei das pessoas específicas que me faziam mal. Hoje em dia já não me encaixo mais em nenhum desses diagnósticos e não considero mais eles relevantes à minha vida. Hoje enxergo que cuidar da minha mente, do meu espírito, da minha conexão com Allah, com a Mãe Terra e com as demais criaturas desenvolve um cuidado verdadeiro com o meu corpo e me redireciona do vitimismo ao empoderamento e a autonomia sobre a minha vida.
A presença na Internet do Movimento pela Aceitação de Corpos Gordos tem pregado que emagrecer, querer emagrecer, gostar de ter emagrecido ou elogiar o emagrecimento são a mesma coisa que o preconceito e o ódio. Portanto, passei muito tempo com receio, timidez e até mesmo vergonha do que hoje em dia já enxergo como uma conquista, um resultado dos meus esforços e, acima de tudo, uma imensa benção de Allah (Deus). Desde que emagreci quase não tenho tirado fotos de mim, principalmente alguma em que o formato do meu corpo pudesse ser detectado, porque eu não queria ser julgada e porque às vezes sou meio tímida também. Mas entre as mudanças mais profundas da minha pessoa está o aumento da minha autoconfiança, e portanto não vou deixar que ninguém projete os seus próprios complexos ou vergonhas pra cima de mim. O aumento do meu peso e a queda do meu bem-estar ocorreram muito publicamente; por que que a minha superação e o meu recomeço também não podem ser públicos? Amo e respeito todo mundo. Eu também me amo e me respeito. E sou muito grata por essa segunda chance.
// I lost approximately 75 pounds (34 kilos) from the end of 2019 through 2021. And since then I have maintained my weight this way. I was able to recover my health to the point of becoming an athlete and completing a marathon at the end of last year (with plans for another this year). I learned to love the person I see in the mirror. Not to love her the way many social media people say: pretending everything’s fine when it isn’t, throwing in the towel instead of battling for true wellness. No, no. I learned to truly love myself, with the type of love and respect for myself that led me to take true care of myself. I weaned off of all the pharmacological chemicals I used to take. Bit by bit I adjusted my eating habits in both quantity as well as quality. I adopted a plant-based diet, mostly organic, and with enough calories to healthfully reach and maintain my ideal weight.
Due to having developed atypical bulimia (leaning towards anorexia nervosa) at ten years of age, I have a long and painful history of self-hatred, a war against my body, and a complete lack of comprehension of how to put food in its rightful place in life. After I gained weight with the pharmacological substances, the mental and physical illnesses, and the attempt to recover from the eating disorder, I developed even more complexes regarding food and even more self-hatred – not just my appearance but also of my essence. The weight loss process was a period of self-knowing, of developing love, of recognition of a potential which I’d never seen before, and of the realization of a ceasefire. The war was over. Peace was established. Now all of the parts of myself – the spirit, the mind, the body – live in harmony.
In this process I also increased bit by bit my physical activities. For someone who had health problems which impeded me from spending much time standing, training my heart to have orthostatic tolerance was not easy and required a lot of patience and determination on my part. But, I was able to do it. Barkley accompanied me on the 10 or 20 meter (roughly 33 or 66 feet) walks which would take me half an hour. He had enough patience for us both! I worked on my sleep; I got used to following the routine I always wanted to, which is to awaken and sleep with the sun. I worked on my mind. I began to meditate, practice energy work, and reprogram my mind. And little by little the kilos and the pain left me and my strength returned. My personality also changed. I entered 2020 one person and left it already another, in many ways and many senses. I didn’t feel and do not feel that I followed or follow a diet; I simply, to adopt the words of Michael Pollan, “Eat food. Not too much.”
Before beginning to reform my health, I had POTS, fibromyalgia, Gastroparesis, and chronic migraine, besides the supposed mental illnesses which instantaneously went away when, in November of 2019, I distanced myself from the specific people who caused me harm. Nowadays I do not fit into any of those diagnoses and do not consider them relevant to my life anymore. Today, I see that taking care of my mind, of my spirit, of my connection with Allah, with Mother Earth, and with my fellow creatures develops a true care for my body and redirects me from victimism to empowerment and autonomy over my life.
The Fat Acceptance Movement’s Internet presence has preached that losing weight, wanting to lose weight, liking having lost weight, or complementing weight loss are the same thing as prejudice and hate. Therefore, I spent a long time reticent, shy, and even ashamed of what nowadays I see as an accomplishment, a result of my efforts, and, above all, an immense blessing from Allah (God). Since I lost weight I have almost not taken photos of myself, primarily those in which in the shape of my body could be detected, because I didn’t want to be judged and because sometimes I’m also sort of shy. But amongst the deepest changes to my person is the increase in my self confidence, and therefore I will not allow anyone to project their own complexes or shame onto me. The increase in my weight and the decline in my well-being occurred very publicly; why should my overcoming and my new beginning not also be public? I love and respect everyone. I also love myself and respect myself. And I am very grateful for this second chance.
Um aviso de gatilho: esta postagem é uma redação pessoal sobre mudanças de peso. Esta postagem sem dúvidas será um gatilho para quem sofre de transtornos alimentares. Por favor, prossiga com cuidado e pense em pular esta postagem se os temas de ganho de peso, perda de peso, transtornos alimentares ou a imagem corporal poderiam ser gatilhos para você.
Hoje um conhecido me encontrou por acaso e me disse, “Se você perder mais peso as pessoas não irão conseguir te enxergar!” Ele continuou falando e disse que ele e mais um conhecido tinham conversado sobre a minha perda de peso. Eu não sabia que as pessoas tinham percebido. Desde julho de 2020 eu tenho perdido aproximadamente 23 quilos. Eu não sei o que sentir a respeito disso. Eu sei que o meu cérebro está muito diferente do que antigamente; ver um número bem mais baixo na balança não me dá um surto de endorfinas como costumava dar. Vestir roupas menores me faz feliz mas não me deixa eufórica. E elogios sobre o tamanho do meu corpo me constrangem e me envergonham em vez de me deixar orgulhosa ou me fazer sentir superior. Enquanto que antigamente essa era a minha única maneira de sentir qualquer coisa que não fosse terror ou tristeza, e portanto eu tinha que aceitar qualquer emoção devido à ausência de alegria, agora eu tenho alegria de verdade. Eu compartilho abraços calorosos, vejo lindos nasceres do sol, participo de conversas vibrantes e estudo assuntos que me fascinam. Mas isso não muda os números.
A minha saúde se transformou. Ela fez uma virada de cento e oitenta graus, como dizem. E o meu peso começou a diminuir dramaticamente. Algumas partes da minha mentalidade permanecem iguais. Tenho tanto mas tanto medo de engordar novamente. Eu tenho tanto medo de voltar a ter meu transtorno alimentar só para manter a perda de peso. Eu tenho medo da minha saúde piorar com tudo novamente e então novamente o meu peso seria o menor dos meus problemas. Mas o futuro é fictício. A realidade é este instante aqui, agora. A realidade é que estou magra. A realidade é que me sinto bem. A realidade é que me tornei convencionalmente atraente novamente. Lindíssima? Nossa, não. Mas estou palatável. Eu não faço ideia de como me sentir a respeito disso.
Esses padrões de beleza são tão aleatórios. São injustos. Ou você está por dentro ou está por fora. O meu corpo tem uma predisposição genética à magreza; os quilos extras que eu carregava eram um resultado direto de medicamentos mal prescritos suficientes para serem o estoque de uma pequena farmácia e diversas doenças que me obrigavam a ficar sedentária. Então a minha composição corporal original não era porque eu era virtuosa, a minha fase “acima do peso” (eu ainda detesto esse termo) não era porque eu era uma besta gulosa e o meu peso atual não é porque eu aprendi a seguir as regras e comer igual a um passarinho. É tudo… aleatório. Isto é verdade para a maioria dos humanos. E ainda assim montamos hierarquias sociais baseadas nessa única caraterística física. E aquelas hierarquias sociais frequentemente influenciam em se alguém recebe ou não um salário justo, pode vestir roupas boas, tem amigos, consegue arranjar um parceiro romântico, é mal tratado, consegue acessar atendimento de saúde ou é promovido no trabalho. Como assim?!
Eu gostaria de comemorar como eu pareço e me sinto porque eu gosto do que vejo no espelho – não de uma maneira obsessiva mas sim do sentido “Vim longe e estou orgulhosa pra cacete do meu corpo ter me apoiado durante tudo isso” e porque me sinto fisicamente melhor que nunca. Mas se eu comemorar isso, se eu postar sobre isso na Internet ou contar aos meus parentes e amigos, isso não daria para entender que agora que não estou por fora dos padrões de beleza, eu os apoio? Que nem uma pessoa pobre que fica rica e então desenvolve um nojento senso de classismo? Eu não sou a favor de julgar os corpos das pessoas, considerar virtuoso fazer uma dieta ou de qualquer espécie de preconceito baseado nos nossos corpos. Todos os corpos são lindos e todo mundo merece amor e respeito a qualquer tamanho. Então eu não gostaria de apoiar implicitamente essas estruturas de poder que são inegavelmente danificadoras, e sendo que me encontro numa posição mais confortável dentro das mesmas eu tenho meio que um dever de fazer a minha parte para desconstruí-las de dentro para fora. E mesmo assim… eu pareço bem e me sinto bem e gostaria de comemorar isso e não estragar isso para mim mesma.
Voltando ao assunto do conhecido que fez o comentário: eu me sinto muito estranha sobre o fato de que dois homens conversam sobre o meu corpo quando eu não estou por perto. Me arrepia de medo. Me incomoda ainda mais que essa não é uma coisa anormal ou socialmente inaceitável. É isso que as pessoas fazem? Toda mundo fala dos corpos de todo mundo? Eu com certeza não faço isso. Eu acho esquisito. Eu busco elogiar as pessoas por trás das costas delas. Quando o boato chega até você, eu quero que o boato seja que você é incrível, inteligente, gentil, engraçado e lindo. A minha única exceção é se houver uma séria preocupação a respeito de segurança ou ética, eu a conto para um terceiro para prevenir danos a alguém. Mas dizer a alguém, “Ei, você percebeu que o corpo de fulano mudou?” não está no “meu manual de jogo,” digamos. Eu detesto ser lembrada de que isso está no manual de jogo dos outros e que agora eu sou a fulana do dia.
Eu não tenho um jeito bonitinho de encerrar o que é efetivamente uma anotação no meu diário que eu estou compartilhando com todos vocês. Isto não é intencionado a ser uma análise completa de toda a ética, política e sociologia a respeito dos tamanhos dos nossos corpos. Esta é uma fotografia momentânea dos meus sentimentos agora. Obrigada por testemunharem isso.
Trigger Warning: this post is a personal essay about weight changes. This post will undoubtedly be triggering to those suffering from eating disorders. Please proceed with caution and consider skipping this post if you could be triggered by discussions of weight gain, weight loss, eating disorders, or body image.
Today an acquaintance ran into me and said, “If you lose any more weight we won’t be able to see you!” He went on to say that he and another male acquaintance had been discussing my weight loss. I didn’t know anyone had noticed. Since July of 2020 I have lost about 50 pounds. I don’t know how to feel about that. I know my brain is very different than it used to be; seeing a much lower number on the scale doesn’t give me an endorphin high as it once did. Wearing smaller clothes makes me happy but not euphoric. And complements on my size make me feel awkward and self conscious, not proud or superior. Whereas once this was my only way to feel anything that wasn’t terror or sorrow, and thus I had to take whatever I could get in leiu of joy, now I have real joy. I share warm embraces, watch beautiful sunrises, eat yummy foods that I choose, participate in vibrant conversations, and study topics that fascinate me. But that doesn’t change the numbers.
My health turned around. It did a one-eighty, as they say. And the weight started melting off. Some parts of my former mindset are still there. I’m so, so afraid I’ll gain it all back. I’m afraid I’ll end up back in an eating disorder just to keep it off. I’m afraid my health will plummet again and my weight will be the least of my problems again. But the future is still fiction. Reality is here and now. The reality is that I’m thin. The reality is that I feel good. The reality is that I have become conventionally attractice again. Gorgeous? Ha, no. But I’m palatable. I don’t know how to feel about that at all.
These beauty standards are so arbitrary. They’re unfair. You’re either in or you’re out. My body is genetically wired for thinness; the extra pounds I carried were a direct result of enough mis-prescribed medications to stock a pharmacy and multiple illnesses that forced me to be sedentary. So, my original body composition wasn’t a result of being virtuous, my bout of being “overweight” (I still hate that term) wasn’t a result of me being a gluttonous beast, and my current weight isn’t because I learned to obey the rules and eat like a bird. It’s all… random. That’s true for most humans. And yet we have built social hierarchies based on this one meaningless physical characteristic. And those social hierarchies often influence whether or not someone is paid fairly, gets to wear nice clothing, has friends, can find a romantic partner, is abused, can access healthcare, or gets a promotion. What?!
I want to celebrate how I look and feel because I like what I see in the mirror – not in an obsessive way but in an “I’ve come a long way and am darned proud of my body for carrying me through it” way – and because I feel physically better than I ever have. But if I celebrate it, if I post about it online or tell my family and friends, wouldn’t that imply that now that I’m not on the outs with beauty standards, I support them? Sort of like a poor person who becomes rich and then develops a disgusting sense of classism, you know? I don’t support judging people’s bodies, assigning virtuousity to dieting, or any form of body-based prejudice. All bodies are beautiful and everyone deserves love and respect at every size. So I don’t want to implicitly uphold these undeniably harmful power structures, and since I have found myself at a more comfortable position therein I have a sort of duty to do my part to tear them down from the inside. And yet… I look good and feel good and want to celebrate that and not ruin it for myself.
Back to the acquaintance who made the comment: I feel really strange about the fact that two men talk about my body when I’m not around. It creeps me out. It bothers me even more that that’s not an abnormal or socially unacceptable thing. Is this what people do? Does everyone talk about each other’s bodies? I certainly don’t. I think it’s weird. I try to compliment people behind their backs. When the rumor gets back to you, I want the rumor to be that you are amazing, intelligent, kind, funny, and beautiful. My only exception is if there is a serious safety or ethics concern and I disclose it to a third party to prevent harm to someone. But saying to somone, “Hey, did you notice that so-and-so’s body has changed?” is not in my playbook. I hate being reminded that it is in other people’s playbooks and that I am now the so-and-so de jeur.
I don’t have a tidy way to end what is effectively a diary entry that I’m sharing with all of you. This isn’t intended to be a complete analysis of all of the ethics, politics, and sociology around body size. This is a snapshot of my feelings in this moment. Thank you for bearing witness to them.
(PT Abaixo) I’ve been absent lately, and for that I’m sorry. I have my reasons, but I don’t want this post to be about that. At the end of the day, my needs are being met, and if that’s not a huge gift, I don’t know what is.
I love all of you so much. By Allah’s Mercy, each of you reading this has brought so much light, love, and goodness into my life. Thank you! Tonight, I’m especially carrying in my heart all of you living alone, forced to live through this frightening period of history truly alone, bereft of human touch, warm hugs, deep eye contact, seeing an uncovered human face in person, and all of the wonders of living, working, and socializing side by side with other people. We were not created to live like this. I fear for the many millions of people whose mental health is being potentially fatally jeopardized or irreversibly damaged by these isolation measures. In the forefront of my mind are you – my beloveds, my chosen family.
I can’t offer any solutions or answers. From the looks of things, no one can. Certainly, I can give you trite advice: Go on a physically distanced outing while wearing a mask and not touching anyone. Adopt a companion animal. Use your time to exercise, learn something new, take up a hobby, or work more. But these aren’t solutions. They’re puny bandaids on the gaping wound that is our collective mental and emotional well-being. We need each other. We need hugs, kisses, staring into each eyes, brushing up against someone, random moments of connection that happen when you interact with strangers, bonding over shared meals… we all desperately need one another. All I can offer in lieu of actual help is my love. Contact me. I’m trying not to be absent again – inshallah, I’ll reply and we’ll talk. I know that’s not what we really need, though. I know it’s not enough. // Ultimamente eu ando ausente, e peço desculpas por isso. Eu tenho meus motivos, mas eu não quero que este post se trate disso. No fim das contas, eu tenho tudo o que eu preciso, e isto é uma benção gigantesca.
Eu amo muito todos vocês. Pela Misericórdia de Allah, cada um de vocês trouxe para a minha vida muitíssima luz, amor e bondade. Obrigada! Esta noite eu carrego especialmente no meu coração todos vocês que moram sozinhos, forçados a passar por este período assustador da história verdadeiramente solitários, desprovidos de toques humanos, abraços quentes, contato visual profundo, ver presencialmente um rosto humano descoberto, e todas as maravilhas de viver, trabalhar, e se socializar lado a lado de outras pessoas. Não fomos criados para viver desse jeito. Temo pelas milhões de pessoas cuja saúde mental está sendo prejudicada de uma forma potencialmente fatal, ou irreversivelmente danificada, por essas medidas de isolamento. Em primeiro lugar na minha mente estão vocês – meus amados, a família que eu escolhi.
Eu não posso oferecer nenhuma solução ou recurso. Pelo jeito, ninguém pode. Eu certamente posso lhes oferecer conselhos banais: Se encontre com alguém, de máscara, sem tocar em ninguém, e mantendo o distanciamento social. Adote um animal de estimação. Utilize o seu tempo para praticar exercícios, aprender algo, começar um hobby, ou trabalhar mais. Mas essas coisas não são soluções. São bandaids que não fazem nenhuma diferença na imensa ferida aberta que é a nossa saúde mental coletiva e o nosso bem-estar. Precisamos um do outro.
Precisamos de abraços, beijos, olhares profundos nos olhos dos outros, precisamos tocar em alguém sem querer, precisamos daqueles momentos de conexão aleatória que acontecem ao interagir com desconhecidos, e precisamos nos conectar compartilhando uma refeição… todos nós precisamos desesperadamente uns dos outros. Tudo que eu posso oferecer em vez de ajuda de verdade é o meu amor. Entrem em contato comigo. Estou tentando não ficar mais ausente – inshallah eu responderei e conversaremos. Porém, eu sei que isso não é tudo que realmente precisamos. Eu sei que não é suficiente.
More and more, our social lives unfold online. Today, we develop friendships, meet romantic partners, and find jobs via the Internet. Muslims today are no exception to these trends, and so a unique phenomenon has arisen: our community is increasingly growing and interconnecting online. Many seekers and converts are first being exposed to the Deen [Islamic religion] and the Ummah [global Muslim community] via the Internet. Many of us are also being taught and mentored partly or even primarily online.
I, for one, first meaningfully encountered Islam online. I was active on Google+ back in its heyday (who else misses it?), and by chance connected with some lovely Muslims on there. I also encountered Muslims on other online platforms as I began wearing Christian headcoverings. As my spiritual journey progressed, I educated myself on Islam partly via the Internet. Alhamdulillah, I had the blessing of cultivating relationships online with Muslims who held my hand along the way, answered so many questions (may Allah reward everyone of them!), sent me books (oh, the international shipping some of them paid!), and just generally oriented me in this new world I was discovering. My story is not terribly unusual. My continued lack of in-depth engagement with my local Ummah is less common. But the way I discovered Islam? Taking my Shahada [see here] before witnesses via Skype? Those things are becoming increasingly ordinary.
I have nothing but positive things to say about this trend. Allah guides who He wills. It seems that more and more, the Internet is being used to show people the Path. It is beautiful to me how many people are finding Islam and support on their path via this incredible tool. Many converts would have next to no, or no, support along the way if it weren’t for the online communities that have arisen in the past few years.
Of course, the potential downside of this trend is the erosion of our local communities. Our local masajid [plural Arabic word meaning mosques] are invaluable to our spiritual welfare as Muslims. As we utilize online platforms to foster genuine, meaningful connections with other Muslims and to help seekers as they investigate Islam, we mustn’t neglect our local Islamic centers and mosques. We mustn’t forget to connect with other local Muslims, even in the smallest ways, such as exchanging salaams [Islamic greetings of peace] in public. At the same time, as Muslims we now have a fantastic tool for helping seekers and new converts. So, let’s utilize it! Let’s strike that balance between using the Internet to strengthen the Ummah overall and not letting our use of it to weaken our local comunities.
On this blog I often write of being a Muslim convert. That tends to be the primary theme here, actually. But a lot of you may not know what that means in practical terms. So, I’d like to open up to you about my experience living my daily life according to Islam.
One of the main themes of my day is prayer, or salat. Five times a day, I offer prayers in Arabic to Allah. Unfortunately, I sometimes fail and pray fewer times than that. That is in part a personal failing and in part due to my current health, which is not good. In these prayers, I recite a portion of the Quran, as well as other things that the Prophet Muhammad taught us Muslims to say. These prayers can easily be found online. Click here for a great link that explains how salat works. Different sects of Islam have slight variations of how to pray, but that’s basically how we do it.
The prayers are said at prescribed times each day. Fajr is the pre-dawn prayer, Dhur is the midday or early afternoon prayer, Asris the late afternoon prayer, Maghrib is the dusk prayer, and Isha is the final evening prayer. The exact time of day at which these prayers are recited depends on the position of the sun in the sky, and it changes throughout the year. There are also additional optional prayers that Muslims may recite – some repetitiously, some not. That’s a post for another day. In any event, salat is around what our daily schedules revolve. Of course, we Muslims can also offer dua, or prayers that we make up as we go along rather than recite from memory. This form of prayer would be familiar to many non Muslims.
In addition, I try to read Quran every day, even if it’s just a couple of verses. I also make an effort to read a few passages from some Islamic book as well. I pretty much always have some Islamic book that I’m in the middle of reading, in hopes of not letting my Islamic education stagnate. I’m also currently trying to memorize another sura (chapter) of the Quran to recite in my daily salat.
There are a lot of other things that aren’t exactly part of my daily schedule per se, but which are part of being a Muslim. For example, my diet is dictated partly by my religion: I don’t eat pork and I don’t consume any alcohol – no, not even if it is “cooked out” of the food! I am also vegetarian; this is in part to avoid meats that don’t come from animals slaughtered according to Islamic rules, partly to avoid consuming animals that were tortured, which doesn’t seem halal (religiously permissible) to me, partly for other ethical reasons, and partly for health reasons.
Another thing that my religion affects is my entertainment. I don’t listen to music that has vulgar lyrics and I don’t watch TV shows or movies that have vulgarity in them. If I’m watching something on a streaming platform where I can skip over objectionable parts of the video, show, or movie, then I do that. And, I don’t read vulgar or “dirty” books or other printed media. Furthermore, I don’t use vulgar or crass language. I don’t talk about sex with members of the opposite gender, or in a casual way. I dress in long, loose clothing and a headscarf and only show my face, feet, and hands. This mode of dress is called hijab. Hijab is also sometimes used to refer to the headscarf worn by Muslim women. I also don’t go out alone with men who aren’t specific close relatives. I don’t stay alone in a room with such men, either. I’m careful not to act in a way around others, especially men, that could be interpreted by anyone as flirting. I don’t speak irreverently about the Divine or spirituality.
As you can see, Islam affects every part of my life and daily routine. The above were only some examples; I couldn’t possibly list all the minutiae of being Muslim. This is something that I love about my religion: I can’t go a minute without remembering that I am Muslim and must seek to submit to Allah. So often, I don’t get it right. I make mistakes so terribly often. I am no example. But I keep trying; I wouldn’t trade the trying for anything.
One of my favorite quotes reminds me to keep trying, imperfect as my practice of faith may be. It always gives me hope. I’ll close with it:
“Come, come, whoever you are,
wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving,
it doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times.
Come, come again, come.”
When I converted to Islam, countless people expected that one of three things would happen in my marriage to my Christian husband: 1) we would divorce; 2) my husband would join me in converting; 3) that it would be too much and I would change my mind. We’re three years into being an interfaith couple and none of those things have happened. Why? The simple answer is that we put our love for each other and our commitment to our wedding vows ahead of every bit of social pressure or intramarital conflict. In a way, that took some doing, but in a way it was simple.
In this context, I have referred to my husband as “my Christian husband.” The thing is, when I married him, I didn’t marry a Christian husband – or for that matter, a Buddhist husband or a Muslim husband. I simply married the love of my life, regardless of labels. And I didn’t vow to be united in holy matrimony “…unless one of us changes religions.” We made a vow for eternity, no ifs, ands, or buts. So when I converted, allowing our marriage to fail wasn’t an option for us. There were a number of moments when we could’ve made a different decision…
For example, when I converted to Islam, a number of people told my husband in so many words that he needed to pressure me to change my mind because I was in danger of hellfire and he was “the head of the household.” He chose me and our marriage over listening to such people. They are no longer in his life. Likewise, a number of people encouraged me to set a deadline and give him an ultimatum: either convert by X date, or divorce. I gave such people and their outrageous ideas zero space in my life.
On the other hand, we have had moments when inaction could’ve changed the trajectory of our marriage. There were many moments shortly after my conversion when we had to have hard conversations about what this change would mean. We could’ve stopped talking when the conversations brought up difficult emotions. We could’ve said, “We’ll talk tomorrow,” and never let tomorrow come. But we didn’t. We asked each other hard questions. We reassured each other of our love even as we cried through the uncertainty and the confusion. And we left each conversation even more certain that the future of our love was bright. The difficulty strengthened our marriage.
We could have pretended that we didn’t have different theological beliefs. We could have pretended that all this wouldn’t change the way we’d raise potential children, or change where and how we’d connect over spirituality. But we didn’t. We were and are honest with ourselves and with each other. And we realized that love is enough. The decisions we made about future children, houses of worship, and a laundry list of other things, aren’t important here. What matters is that we had and, as necessary, continue to have hard conversations. Those conversations were and are made easier with the knowledge that our love will always make things okay.
So many interfaith couples tell each other, “our love will get us through,” and then don’t do the work to nourish their love and find out what that means for their marriage. Yes, love is enough. But you must put it into action! Love your spouse and your marriage enough to ask each other hard questions, to give hard answers, and to listen to understand rather than listen to rebut. It’s not optional to talk about and make decisions together about how to handle getting along with the in-laws, celebrating holidays, praying, dressing according to your respective faiths, having and raising children, the dynamic of the relationship (will the wife submit to the husband or will it be an egalitarian marriage?), your diet, your social life, and every other aspect of your lives that religion affects – whether you want it to or not!
Interfaith marriage comes with unique challenges, but it is also uniquely rewarding. My husband and I never have the option of being too set in our ways, or of doing things out of unconscious habit. We never get to be so shortsighted that we forget that there are other ways of doing life. We never get to disrespect other people’s faiths; by our mere presence in one another’s lives, we each obligate the other to respect and celebrate differences and diverse beliefs and cultures. We are so grateful that we continue to affirm our “I dos” every day. We are thankful that we held onto our love when the world said it wouldn’t work. I know that I implied that interfaith marriage has had its difficult moments. But truthfully, it hasn’t been overwhelming! Waking up next to my soulmate every morning, hearing and saying “I love you” at the end of every day – those things never get old. And we have never once wavered in loving each other through every moment of my faith crisis. To us, loving each other has always been instinctively and unquestionably worth every moment.
(PT ABAIXO) It’s been four years since I put on hijab for good. The funny thing is that for me, the hijab came before Islam. Wearing it as a Christian practice brought me through my crisis of faith and kept me committed to persevering in my pursuit of Truth. It was a reminder of my desire to please God. I became, as you probably know, Muslim.
My hijab is now a richly rewarding manifestation of my adherence to my Islamic faith. It helps me as I fight to control my lowest nafs, to subdue my vanity, my pride, and my focus on my body. It makes me, and those around me, see me first as a soul, a personality, and an intellect, rather than a mere body. Hijab is a barrier between my sexuality and my public being, between myself and those who might be attracted to me, between myself and many temptations. It is a protection. When I’m wearing hijab, I represent Islam. And it reminds me of what I’m supposed to live up to. It’s hard to watch a dirty movie, swear, drink, look at others in a lustful way, enter sinful establishments, mistreat others, be dishonest, and so forth, when dressed in hijab.
Hijab also restores my sense of ownership over my body, and grants me an accompanying sense of dignity. My body is mine. It is not for public consumption. It is not for the enjoyment, use, consumption, judgement, critique, or commentary of others. Allah has told us to whom we may show our bodies. Obeying Him frees me from other people’s rules about my external being, and is a realization of the fact that my whole being was created by and for Allah – not for others. How I use it and present it is up to Him, not me.
If you’re struggling with hijab, or wanting to put it on but are not sure how, feel free to get in touch with me. I’d be honored to offer any counsel or support that I can.
Until next time, Assalaamu Alaikum.
Photo from / Foto de: muslimheritage.com. (With my added edits. / Com minhas edições adicionais.)
Fazem quatro anos desde que comecei a usar o hijab fielmente. Por estranho que seja, para mim, o hijab veio antes do Islam. Usá-lo como uma prática cristã me sustentou durante a a minha crise espiritual e me manteve comprometida a perseverar na minha busca pela Verdade. Era um lembrete do meu desejo de agradar a Deus. Afinal, como vocês já devem saber, eu me tornei muçulmana.
Agora o meu hijab é uma manifestação ricamente recompensadora da minha aderência à minha fé islâmica. Ele me ajuda a lutar contra o meu nafs inferior (o nafs inferior é o ego inferior do ser humano, que atenta ele a cometer pecados), a subjugar minha vaidade, meu orgulho, e meu foco no meu corpo. Ele me faz, e faz as pessoas ao meu redor, me ver primeiramente como uma alma, uma personalidade, e um intelecto, e não um mero corpo. O hijab é uma barrera entre mim e as pessoas que poderiam sentir atração por mim, e entre mim e diversas tentações. É uma proteção. Quando uso o hijab, eu represento o Islam. E ele me faz lembrar daquilo que tenho que cumprir. É difícil assistir um filme sujo, falar palavrões, beber, olhar para os outros de uma forma lasciva, entrar em estabelecimentos de pecados, maltratar os outros, ser desonesta, entre outras coisas mais, quando estou vestida de hijab.
O hijab restaura o meu senso de domínio sobre o meu corpo, e além disso ainda me fornece um senso de dignidade. O meu corpo é meu. Ele não serve para consumo público. Ele não serve para o divertimento, uso, consumo, julgamento, a crítica, ou os comentários dos outros. Allah tem nos dito para quem nós podemos mostrar os nossos corpos. Obedecer a Ele me liberta das regras de outras pessoas a respeito do meu ser externo, e é uma realização do fato que o meu ser inteiro foi criado por e para Allah, e não para os outros. É Ele, não eu, que determina como eu o uso e o apresento.
Se você está tendo dificuldades com o hijab ou quer começar a usá-lo mas não tem certeza de como fazer isso, fique à vontade para entrar em contato comigo. Eu me sentiria honrada de oferecer qualquer conselho ou apoio possível.
genuinegemswriting 