backhomelandia - everyone, I’m a muslim

Posted under american muslim, clothes, conversion by rahma

Greetings from backhomelandia aka cheesecurd central aka the land of 10,000 Prius. As has become a tradition, I trek across the border to spend the extended memorial day weekend with family.

First up was a visit with my grandma in the land of 10,000 Prius aka Madison, Wisconsin. Seriously people, I should have counted. 3 minutes didn’t pass while we were driving about town when I didn’t see one of these little hybrids zipping around.  Ah, my people, my hippy dippy tree hugging people, how I love you.

And now, we shall digress, but I promise this will come back to my grandma and my weekend…

…growing up, I never wanted to rock the boat.  I was terrified of upsetting people, so I always laid low and tried to avoid conflict.  I ordered always ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, so as not to be a burden on my parents.  I never asked to go out, because I didn’t want to bother my parents for a ride.  I only hosted parties on my birthday and later when my mom saw that I was a hermit and insisted that I invite friends over.  I played oboe in junior high, which requires reeds that needed to be purchased every so often.  However, I hated to ask my parents for money, so I went away to band camp with one old reed.  It broke 2 days in and I had to beg the oboe teacher to make me one.  I came away looking like a fool, all because I didn’t want to upset my parents by asking for money to buy new reeds.

It is with this background that I’ve approached my conversion vis a vi my family.  Not wanting to rock the boat, I didn’t tell anyone I had converted.  I was waiting, waiting, waiting for the right time.

I transfered schools a few months after I converted, and there I wanted a fresh start.  Part of that fresh start was being known as a muslim on campus.  And part of that was donning the hijab.  One small problem - my sister went to the same university.   Granted, there were tens of thousands of students, so the chances that I would run into her were small.  I worked my way into the traditional hijab, and switched to a bun style when I had lunch with my sister.  One evening, we went to see a lecture by Ben Stein.  I wore my undercover bun style hijab, and when we went up to get our books signed, Ben Stein asked me if I wore a scarf for religious reasons.  I said yes without even thinking.  Crap, I was caught.  He asked me what my religion was, and I meekly said Islam.  He must have thought that I was nervous, as he is jewish, so he smiled warmly and told me that his best friend as a child had been muslim.  Ah, but it wasn’t him I was worried about.  No, I was worried about disappointing my sister.  She turned out to be cool with it, except for the occasional digression into “OMG, what happened to you?  You used to be such a feminist, blah blah blah.”

My parents suspected something obviously, as I started to cover my hair with bandanas when I was at home.  Eventually, they snooped in my email over christmas break, found the evidence and confronted me.  I sat on the couch, crushed through the confrontation, feeling like crap that I had disappointed them.  For years, I was ashamed to show my Islam around them.  They pretended it didn’t happen, and I didn’t do anything obviously Islamic in front of them.  Gradually, I started to be obviously “muslim” in front of them, even to the point where my mom gave me a beautiful scarf for christmas (ah, how to confront them about the fact that I no longer want to celebrate christmas.  but that’s another story).

Circling back now to my grandma - how to tell her that I converted to this religion that she knows nothing about, beyond what she has seen on television from terrorists?  My solution - don’t tell her.  Sound familiar?  She knew something was up when I started covering my hair when I visited during college, but she didn’t say much aside from commenting on my change in wardrobe.  She didn’t even say anything when she came to visit last October during Ramadan and we took her to an iftar at the local masjid and I went to pray.

No, it wasn’t until this weekend when she actually outright asked me if I had “converted to the muslim religion.”  SubhanAllah, here I am more than 6 years beyond my conversion, and when asked outright, I hang my head and meekly say yes.   Suprisingly, she doesn’t say anything about terrorists, or muslim men treating women like shit.  No, she continues to focus on my dress.  I’ve taken to wearing skirts instead of pants, and will now cover my hair in a more conventional muslim-ish fashion when I go to visit.  That’s what bothers her - not the fact that I don’t celebrate christmas or easter, nor that I no longer believe Jesus (as) is the son of God - no, she wonders why I don’t wear pants and why I cover my hair.   It could be worse.  God bless her.

But even then, confronted with such a mundane little triffle, I can’t express myself well in this regard.  When I speak with people I’ve met after my conversion, it’s very easy for me to explain my choice in dress.  Covering my hair is an act of worship, and it identifies me as a proud, strong, intelligent muslim woman.  I humble myself in front of my Lord every time I put it on, and I shatter stereotypes in my interaction with Joe Schmoe at the office.

But with my family, it’s different.  We never talked about God…never EVER.  We went to church on Sunday, and that was it.  Oh, we went to sunday school, got confirmed, but as a family, we never discussed the Almighty.   That child who was afraid to ask for $3 for a reed lest she upset her mom is still very much in control when it comes to interacting with my family.  Even with my dear sweet grandmother, I cannot work up the nerve to challenge the status quo, to bring God into our discussions, and to express my devotion to Him in my choice of dress.

SubhanAllah, I’m so ashamed.  I’m 26 years old, and I’m more afraid of my family than I am of Allah (swt).  That scared little child inside of me won’t go away overnight, but inshaAllah, she needs to start heading out of town.   I shouldn’t be ashamed of my deen and it’s requirements.  If I cover my head, so what?  If I stop and pray 5 time a day, so what?  If God is a real and important part of my life, and I want to talk about Him, so what?  inshaAllah inshaAllah inshaAllah I am going to quash this shame, and be proud of my faith, with everyone.

Whew, that was more than I’ve talked about hijab in a long time.  I wear it, but I don’t obsess about it.  Heck, I’m even pulling back on my online window shopping sprees.  No more hijab talk for awhile inshaAllah.

Still to come in my backhomelandia series:

• my sister and (no) God
• couldn’t the husband convert to be lutheran?
• on a (salat) roll, and I feel fine
• and perhap more, seeing as how I have 2 days left before I head back home