in the beginning...
Being a daughter of immigrants is by no means unique in this country. Still, I feel it helped make my experiences growing up here, and developing, unique.
As a child I’m sure I wanted nothing more than to fit in and be like everyone else. I, of course, knew that I was different - I certainly wasn't like the blond-haired, blue-eyed WASP kids I grew up with. I was familiar enough, I suppose, with my Arab heritage as well as the fact that I was supposed to be Muslim. Being Muslim, at that time, didn't mean very much other than not eating pork, drinking alcohol, or celebrating Christmas and Easter. It meant that at my third grade pizza party I had to miss out on the fabulous treat of eating pizza at school because the only kinds they had thought to order contained pork – although my teacher did have a brilliant solution: “can't you just pick it off?”
In those days, however, being Muslim wasn't a threat at all – it was more of a curiosity. The children in my class certainly didn't care, they just marveled at the fact that we did not celebrate Christmas and, I’m sure, felt rather sorry for me that I would not receive the kinds of fabulous gifts they did each year. Upon hearing that I could not eat pork, a friend of mine asked "so you've never had a hot dog??" as if to not eat a hot dog would be a calamity. I calmly explained to her that there were beef hot dogs aplenty in the supermarket.
When I grew a bit older, another religious oddity came up: fasting. During the month of Ramadan[1] I began to fast from dawn until dusk, which obviously coincided with the school day. So as not to call too much attention to myself, and to not waste time, my teacher allowed me to spend the lunch period in the library, where I could read to my heart’s content –very agreeable to me, as I was something of a bookworm.
Still, I did not fully comprehend what it meant to be Muslim. It was more of an identity, as many still take it. It did not reach beyond my shallow understanding and performance of rituals; it did not penetrate my heart and soul. I remained this way through the conclusion of my public school education. My real education, in the Islamic sense, began with the commencement of my studies at the University. It was there that I met the people and had the experiences that would shape my perceptions, understanding and, ultimately, my life.[1] The ninth month of the Islamic lunar calendar, in which it is incumbent upon all Muslims who are able to fast from dawn till dusk.
Labels: background
