To A Few Of My Conservative Friends, To Whom I Am Tired Of Discussing Terrorism With

A few notes before I proceed - I am tired, sick, and oddly in the mood to write this post. I do not support terrorism, but I am not sure I don't understand it. As a Muslim, I decry cowardly acts such as 9/11, but I am a little worn thin by the folks on the other side of it who use it as a tool to mask their own selfishness and barbarism. They say we have freedom of speech in this country, let's see.......

I am probably more conservative than I am liberal, thanks to a few years living in a refugee camp with folks from a civil war. Succinctly put, they taught me that there were wicked people in the world that needed to be stopped by force, not coddled by diplomacy. It reminded me of living in those cheap rentals over the Midwest, cowering in an empty corner as my drunken step-father raged through the place. When I finally stood up and fought him, I lost, but whatever pain he inflicted was far less than the humiliation of my silence, my cowardice. Yes an eleven year old is a coward if he hides away while his mother is beaten or his sister is terrified or worse. The liberals in my universe of course tried to comfort me, probably believed I shouldn't have felt any shame. But I did - when someone takes up in his hands all that you have, all that you love and fear and humbles and crushes you with it, there is little left but the emptiness of shame.
It was almost forty years before I felt that helplessness again; this time at the hands (and rifle barrels) of young Israelis bent on toying with me while I tried to go into mosques to pray - indifferently exposing me to just a bit of the animosity and ugliness inside them that they project so well on the Palestinians around them. And to be sure, mine was just a taste of this madness. I would love to take any freedom-loving American over there, let them find out why they believe it is so important that the military is not the only armed populace in their society, find out what it is like to have a 19 year old hold your life in the balance at any given moment of the day, or maybe just leave them at home, knock down their houses, move them fifty miles away and tell them they can never return "home." Or maybe have them explain how a group of people could displace them over night, claiming the land that has a cemetery with five generations of their family buried in it.
Really, what I am most tired of is the dishonesty that often precedes the questions about terrorism. An artful artifice of sorts, masking the motive that dares not reveal itself: "We think those people should just disappear quietly." Whether it fulfills a prophecy or profitability, it is amazing how a good part of the world cares so little about these Palestinians who face daily realities that are completely anathema to the American ideals I was taught. Well, given that they probably won't just go away, what should they do? What would an American do?
In this modern world, there is inevitable conflict. How does a group, outnumbered and out resourced, defend itself today? In a military state where the general populace feels disenfranchised and oppressed, how should they assert their basic rights? Imagine an American reality where a particular ethnic group could expect their homes to be demolished regularly with no recourse, no recompense. Imagine a world that would respect you only if you slid silently into your oblivion in order to spare it some uncomfortable introspection.
While growing up in that household filled with violence and shame, I was often astounded by the grown-ups that stood away and let it happen. These adults were family members, school officials, social workers, even policemen. There were times the police were called to our house and they cautiously dealt with my step-father, as afraid of him as I was I supposed. On most occasions, they postured a bit then let him return back into the house, not concerned with the consequences that would follow. I realized early that I was on my own. When I did begin to fight back, eventually prevailing, those same mature witnesses looked the other way - fair is fair I guess, but perhaps not in Palestine though.
As I have said before, I should have killed my step-father back then, before those more terrible things followed my occasional beatings and periodic degradation - things I won't speak of here. If I had killed him with whatever means I could have summoned, would I have been a terrorist? Am I a terrorist now for promoting this retroactive posture? Am I a terrorist when the occasional thought passes my mind that killing one Israeli soldier would do more good than trying to help teach a hundred displaced Palestinian children in a desolate refugee camp (that point when my logic and my ethics collide uncomfortably and repulsively)?
It is an ever-coalescing notion that I as a Muslim am becoming an enemy to my own country. Whether it is Michele Bachmann, the state of Kansas, or the Republican convention featuring a Zionist Rabbi and the Democratic convention voting Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, I see the alignment forming. Looking down this road, I wonder what my recourse would be when a bulldozer or tank shows up at my home because my grandson threw a rock at armored soldier, or if the space became needed for some zealous Christian converts who liked the property. If my home wasn't very nice, would they put a thirty-foot high wall around it? Would my religion trump my right to bear arms? Would I be expected to relocate to Mexico or Canada? No, surely not in America! Why then anywhere else in the world?
So, given that we won't suggest the Palestinians turn away and die, what is their recourse? What are the rules of engagement? Of war? When negotiations fail, and you are hopelessly outnumbered, what do you do?
I don't know the answers to these honest questions, but I do know I am weary of the conversations I have about the byproducts of injustice and racism. When you oppress people, when you treat them inhumanely, you introduce them to the evil you may one day reap. Let me be clear - evil is evil, and anyone who engages in it is evil and unsupportable. It is a dangerous game to begin to quantify its effects, particularly when you initiate it - I would never say or believe a terrorist act is justified, but I would be less than honest if I said I could not imagine what motivated it. And if I would have killed my step-father forty years ago, I would suspect there would be consequences, lest our society unravel into a anarchistic chaos as Martin Luther King admonished us.
We are a nation that worships justice, that has attained a fair measure of it, and maybe no longer appreciates its principles. I simply cannot believe that what has evolved in Palestine is compatible with the fair and equitable notions lodged securely in the freedom-loving hearts of most of the people I know here in the United States. Therefore, please quit asking me about terrorism because I am a Muslim and start asking me about the basic and unalienable rights of all people everywhere, and the consequences of looking the other way, or worse yet, colluding in the suppression of the freedom of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness of anyone.

I do not support terrorism.

My Favorite Verse in The Qur'an

"When the sun
(with its spacious light)
Is folded up;
When the stars
Fall, losing their lustre;
When the mountains vanish
(like a mirage);
When the she-camels,
Ten months with young,
Are left untended;
When the wild beasts
Are herded together
(In human habitation);
When the oceans
Boil over with a swell;
When the souls
Are sorted out,
(Being joined, like with like);
When the female (infant),
Buried alive, is questioned -
For what crime
She was killed;
When the Scrolls
Are laid open;
When the sky
Is unveiled,
When the Blazing Fire
Is kindled to fierce heat;
And when the Garden
Is brought near;
(Then) shall each soul know
What it has put forward."
S.81, A. 1-14

I was profoundly touched when I read this Sura, having stumbled on it late one evening a few years ago. I think I was lost in the lyricism of the Sura (as I often was) when I passed over "for what crime was she killed", and I realized how pertinent the verse was, for me anyway. I had always known that the Prophet (PBUH) had prohibited female infanticide, but I read so much more into this verse. As an American Muslim, I often overhear comments regarding the degradation of women in Islam, and it always brings me back here to the Al-Takweer (The Rolling), Sura 81.
I am concerned with what my soul has put forward, particularly in my treatment of women throughout my life. I have not murdered any newborns, but I have not always been very decent to the women in my life.
I never believed that a woman existed to serve me, but I am sure I haven't had a healthy attitude towards many of them either. I suppose there was always an ugliness inside me that was born of my own inadequacies as a human, let alone a man. I am not sure I always thought I deserved the respect, friendship, or even love of a woman, and I often turned that doubt into a proactive disrespect. Once again, its genesis wasn't a sense of masculine superiority, quite the oposite, a singular self-loathing.
As an adult, I laughed at jokes cashed at female expense, even told a few. I shrugged it off as harmless while I watched those stereotypical attitudes "man"ifest themselves to the detriment of a few good women. I never believed I was better than anyone, let alone a class of humans that large - I just never let anyone know I didn't.
In my youth, I dallied harmlessly, so I figured, with women in different countries, from different circumstances. Despite my poor self-esteem, I allowed myself the fantasy that they were with me genuinely and that their time with me was as fun and superficial as my affections. I lament those days, and honestly wonder how a world can come to call a woman like that a "whore" and someone like me a "rogue." A terrible hypocritical reality that still makes me feel unclean, and culpable for a world of sins. Now, as I teach young children, I look out at the girls - sisters and daughters, I am deeply ashamed for ever having taken any woman for granted, in anyway.
I am also deeply ashamed at the way I have raised my own daughters at times. I loved them and still do, but I was not always kind and loving, at least outwardly. I didn't hold them and hug them as I should have, and I often bullied them uglily when I was angry with them. I pray they know that my failures were not that of a man, or that their lack of affection from me was not their due as females. Just one weak human not knowing how to interact lovingly with those around him.
So yes, I have not buried any babies in the sand, literally at least. But I have not fulfilled my duty as a human to the women who grew up around me, and my faith and my God know this. So no, my soul had not put forward that which it should have, but I am working on it, and I am so grateful for the women who have forgiven me and have allowed me the chance to learn and develop. I ask forgiveness for these sins and those I have perpetrated against the women in my past - a rude comment, careless embrace, neglected advocacy. Most of all, I am thankful for this Sura, reminding me that Allah has a better concept of me, for my potential.

This Time for Gratitude

It is Ramadan, and I am thankful for many things. I love the discipline of fasting and paying extra attention to my prayers. Remembering to make time for prayer, and having hunger and thirst as steady reminders keep me focused on the purpose of this yearly devotion. Literally dozens of times each day, I think about my faith, my good fortune, and I empathize with millions of other humans who do not choose their "fasts" freely. I am thankful.
It has been a difficult year for me, I can't remember having this many transitions to deal with. My job search was long and arduous, and there were many times that I thought I might not find a good situation before our savings were exhausted. It has been more than a year since I have had an easy, peaceful sleep. These days I am sleeping a bit better, the fasting helps I think. I break fast after eight pm with a few dates and a glass of buttermilk. I pray then have a light meal. I try to sleep by eleven, and I wake at five to have some water and fruit. The schedule is comforting.
This Ramadan does bring hope and clarity. My job is challenging and I can immerse myself in it. I am pretty much alone though, living in an efficiency apartment on the third floor of a house. I know I just need to keep my head down and keep moving forward. It has also been a revealing month - there have been several old friends who have resurfaced and really boosted my faith in myself. There have also been a few who have retreated, allowing me to apply some much needed distance. All in all, my world is much clearer than it has been for the past several years. I am thankful for this.
No matter what is coming, I have this month to keep the right things in my life in focus. I am thankful for my family, for the multitude of blessings I have received in my life, and most of all, I am thankful that Allah has given me the skills and motivation to help others. I have done this my entire professional life, and I know there are small, sporadic pieces of the earth that are a bit better because I cared. I am very thankful.

My Conversion

I have often been asked how, why, when, and where did I convert to Islam. I always hesitate before I answer. Not because I don't know, or I am at a loss for words, or I don't want to share - my faith is a deeply personal thing for me, and those things have always been hard for me to discuss with others. It is now Ramadan, and I do like to revisit that life changing decision during this holy month.
The decision was twenty years in the making. It began when I accepted my second Peace Corps assignment in Yemen. Honestly, when I got the call, I had to run to a map to find the country (I did have a rough idea). I was not wild about the assignment, but I had learned that my expectations were often wrong, and I was sure such a new and strange environment would be exciting. I gave little thought to religion when I went, I spent more time on language and culture. And for a long time, I believed the things I saw there were cultural, but I was wrong.
From the beginning of my experience in Yemen, I had ambivalent feelings about my interactions with the people there. I saw a lot of things that I did not like or understand, but I also sensed a deep sense of dignity in many of the people I met. True to my nature, I focused on the negative, but did not forget the positive. It was those positive images that planted the seed that eventually brought me to Islam.
The Yemeni language trainers I worked with were amazingly patient and kind to me despite my occasional obstinance. I wasn't always a good student, but they took it in stride, and when my primary post didn't work out, several of them asked for me to be placed in their home villages. I was very humbled, the first of many times in the next two years.
Living in the refugee camp was wonderful and terrible at the same time. I loved the simplicity of each day. I had a sterno stove and boiled vegetables for my dinner. I ate tomatoes and onions with a little vinegar and oil, and made tea with fresh ginger, cardamom, and cloves. I sat in my wheelbarrow and washed myself with water from two buckets. I learned to wash very late, because it embarrassed me when the Eritrean women would insist to pull the water from the well for me. The women had woven grass rugs for me and even crocheted a very colorful throw for my bed. Every night I would try to read while the kids rollicked through my tent. It was the closest I had ever come to comfort and peace. This sense of contentment was often broken though by illness, violence, and death.
I began to realize that my admiration for the people in the camp was a reaction to their profound sense of faith. They had seen horrors I could not imagine, and yet they were still kind and compassionate, and very patient with me. I watched as they lived their lives, day to day. How they overcame tragedy, how they laughed at everything common and good. I had so much more than they, yet it was I who was empty, poor. I envied that inner tranquility that guided their lives.
After I left Yemen, I maintained contact with many Muslims wherever I went. In graduate school, I taught a Saudi student who eventually became a great friend and boss. He reminded me of so many Muslim fathers I had met - very loving and gentle with his family. Perhaps it was my own failings as a father that struck such strong chords witnessing these men interact with their children. He also had a very deep sense of dignity without the righteousness I had seen in other men of other faiths. I followed him to London and worked with him for a year in an Islamic school. We made great strides together, but I never came close to modeling the professional and compassionate posture he maintained always. I like to think I did learn though.
Upon returning to the States, I eventually ended up in Oregon, where I found myself pretty much alone. I spent long hours thinking about my life and my deep sense of disconnection. I wasn't looking or searching for an answer, I simply returned to that place where I had seen and felt a great deal of what I lacked - Islam.
I had many Muslim friends in Oregon, and I enjoyed spending time with them. I had another friend who lived overseas who was also a great influence on me. She was much younger, but was very poised and practiced her faith with quiet passion. I admired her very much, and I valued her friendship greatly. She was the first person I contacted when I converted.
The decision was very easy in hindsight. It was shortly before Ramadan three years ago, while I was visiting the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles of all places. I remember watching a woman who was introduced as a Holocaust survivor (she was three when she left the camp) discussing anti-Semitism and other issues. The presentation was interesting, but I was very upset with the final portion of it. She showed a piece about the alleged slave trade in Sudan. I had studied this issue, and knew that many governments, the UN, UNICEF, and dozens of other international agencies had condemned the reports of the Christians in Sudan allegedly "purchasing and releasing" Muslim slaves. I realized that in the course of her talk, she had showed Jews, Blacks, Native Americans, and many others being victimized in the past and present. There was no mention of Gaza or Palestine, nor of the massive fences and concrete barriers I had seen in Jerusalem, segregating and degrading Muslims. Instead, her presentation ended with a few Muslim "slave traders."
It wasn't my anger over the portrayal of Muslims or the omission of Israeli bigotry that prompted me to convert that week. It was the peace I felt every time I went back to those interactions in the camp, with my boss and his family, with my friend. I also knew that it was time for me to "submit" to my God. I had not submitted to anything for a long time, an inheritance of my youth - I survived my step-father and hadn't bowed before another man since. It was time for me to open my heart and allow myself to forgive, love, and live.
I don't pray like I should, but I am trying. I work hard to live my faith. It is not just a matter of not drinking, smoking, being promiscuous. It is a matter of living like a man who has the contentment of God's love in his heart. I hope people see that, not for my vanity, just my salvation.

أنا كثيرا ما سئلت كيف، لماذا، ومتى، وأين أعتنقت  الإسلام.دائما أتردد قبل ان أجيب .ليس لانني لا أعلم أو ليس لدي الكثير من الكلمات أو لا أريد أن شارك قصتي لكن إيماني هو شي شخصي عميق بالنسبه لي.
وهذه الأمور كان دائما من الصعب بالنسبة لي مناقشتها مع الآخرين.
الآن هو شهر رمضان  .وأنا أتطلع لإعادة النظر في هذا القرار المصيري "الذي يغير الحياه" في هذا الشهر الفضيل. وكان قرار عشرين عاما في طور التكوين.
وقد بدأ هذا  عندما قبلت بلدي الثاني مهمة فيلق السلام في اليمن.
بصراحة، عندما حصلت على دعوة، وكان علي أن أذهب  إلى خريطة للعثور على الدولة (وقد أخذت  فكرة تقريبية).
لم أكن وحشي حول الاحالة، ولكن كنت قد علمت أن توقعاتي كانت في كثير من الأحيان خاطئة، وأنا على يقين من أن مثل هذه البيئة الجديدة والغريبة ستكون مثيرة.
عندما ذهبت إلى هناك أعطيت القليل من الفكر ل الدين والمزيد من الوقت ل اللغه والثقافة .ولفترة طويلة اعتقدت أن الأمور التي رأيتها هناك كانت ثقافية لكنني كنت مخطئا
. من بداية تجربتي في اليمن، كان لي مشاعر متناقضة حول المعاملات التي أجريتها مع الناس هناك. رأيت الكثير من الأشياء التي لم أكن أحبها أو فهمها، ولكن أنا أيضا أحسست بالاحساس العميق بمكانة و كرامة كثير من الناس الذين التقيت بهم. استنادا إلى  طبيعتي ، ركزت على السلبيات، ولكن لم انسى الإيجابيات . كانت تلك الصور الإيجابية التي زرعت البذرة التي اوصلتني في  نهاية المطاف إلى الإسلام. 
كان مدربي اللغه اليمنين الذين عملت معهم صبورين و لطيفين معي بشكل مدهش. لن أكن طالبا جيدا دائما ,ولكنهم تقبلو ذلك . عندما لم تنجح مهمتي الأولى "الابتدائيه" العديد منهم عرض علي أن امكث في بلدتهم.كنت متواضعا "خجولا من تعاملهم الجيد" كانت الأولى من عدة مرات قادمه في السنتين المقبلتين.
العيش في مخيم للاجئين كان رائع ورهيب في نفس الوقت.  أحببت البساطة في كل يوم. حيث  كان لي موقد للطهي و الخضار المسلوقة للعشاء. أكلت الطماطم والبصل مع وقليل من الخل والزيت، و حضرت الشاي مع الزنجبيل الطازج، الهيل، والقرنفل. مكثت  في عربة وغسلت نفسي بالماء من دلوين. تعلمت أن اغتسل في وقت متأخر جدا وذلك لأن المرأة الإرترية تصر على سحب الماء من البئر لي. وقد نسجت النساء لي سجادة من العشب و غطاء سرير مليء بالألوان.
كل ليلة كنت أحاول أن أقرأ في حين كان  الأطفال يلعبون  بكل فرح و سرور بالقرب من خيمتي. كانت  الأقرب لي من أي وقت مضى للراحة والسلام. هذا الشعور بالرضا في كثير من الأحيان كان يكسر بواسطة  المرض والعنف والموت.
وبدأت أدرك أن إعجابي بالناس في المخيم كان رد فعل لاحساسهم العميق بالإيمان. 
أنهم شاهدوا فظائع لا يمكن أن اتصورها، وحتى الآن كانت لا تزال الطيبة والرأفة، وكانوا صادقين جداً معي. شاهدت  كيف عاشوا حياتهم، يوما بعد يوم. كيف  تغلبوا على المأساة، كيف أنهم ضحكو على كل شيء  .كانو لا يملكون الكثير ولكنهم سعيدين وكنت أملك أكثر منهم بكثير ولكنني كنت فقير وفارغ (اذا لم يكن لديك الإيمان فأنت فارغ).أني احسد هذه الطمانينه و الهدوء الداخلي الذي يرشد حياتهم.
منذ أن غادرت اليمن، وأنا  اتعامل و اتواصل  مع العديد من المسلمين أينما ذهبت. في مدرسة الدراسات العليا، كنت ادرس طالب سعودي الذي أصبح في نهاية  المطاف مدرب و صديق عظيم . ذكرني بكثير من الآباء المسلمين الذين التقيت بهم والذين كانو محبين ولطفاء مع عائلاتهم. وربما كان ذلك  القصور الخاص بي كأب هو  الذي أصاب تلك الحبال القوية حين تشهد تفاعل  هؤلاء الرجال مع أطفالهم. كان عنده الإحساس العميق  بالايمان "كان شخصيه دينيه جدا " ولكنه لم يكن يتحدث عن ذلك ولا يتباهى بذلك كمعظم رجال الدين.وتبعته إلى لندن، وعملت معه لمدة سنة في مدرسة إسلامية.  كان هادئا,مهنيا و مراعيا جداً. وأنا لم أكن  بتلك المهنية والهدوء.
عندما عدت الى الولايات ،  نهاية المطاف كانت ولاية أوريغون، حيث وجدت نفسي وحيدا الى حد كبير. قضيت ساعات طويلة أفكر في حياتي واحساسي العميق بالتفكك. انا لم اكن انتظر و ابحث عن اجابه .ببساطه عدت الى ذلك المكان حيث شاهدت و شعرت بقدر وافر من الامور التي افتقدتها "الاسلام"
كان لي العديد من الأصدقاء المسلمين في ولاية أوريغون، الذين استمتعت بقضاء الوقت معهم. وكان لي صديقه آخرى في الخارج حيث كان لها تأثير كبير علي. كانت أصغر مني  سنا من بكثير، ولكن كانت متوازنه  وتطبق إيمانها بعاطفة هادئة. أعجبت بها كثيرا، وقدرت صداقتها إلى حد كبير.  وكانت أول شخص اتصلت به عندما دخلت الاسلام. كان هذا القرار سهلا جدا. كان قبل رمضان بقليل قبل ثلاث سنوات، حين كنت في زيارة لمتحف التسامح في لوس أنجليس لجميع الأماكن. أنني أتذكر انني شاهدت امرأة  قدمت كأحد الناجين من محرقة لمناقشة معاداة السامية وغيرها من المسائل. كان العرض مثير للاهتمام، ولكنني كنت مستاء للغاية مع الجزء الأخير منه.حيث قدمت قطعة حول تجارة الرقيق المزعومة في السودان.كنت قد درست هذه المسألة، واعرف أن العديد من الحكومات، والأمم المتحدة، واليونيسيف، والعشرات من الوكالات الدولية الأخرى قد أدانت تقارير المسيحيين في السودان والذي يدعى "الشراء والإفراج عن" العبيد المسلمين.ادركت هذا خلال حديثها حيث تحدثت عن اليهود، والسود والأمريكيين الأصليين، والعديد من  الضحايا الاخرين في الماضي والحاضر. لم يرد ذكر لقطاع غزة أو فلسطين، ولا للاأسوار ضخمة والحواجز الخرسانية التي رأيتها في القدس، العزل واللاإنسانية تجاه المسلمين. بدلاً من ذلك، انتهى عرضها مع بعض المسلمين "تجار الرقيق". لم يكن غضبي على كيفيه  تصوير المسلمين أو إغفال التعصب الإسرائيلي الذي دفعني إلى دخول الاسلام هذا الأسبوع. كان السلام الذي شعرت به في كل مرة عدت الى هذه المخيمات، مع مدربي وأسرته،و صديقي. عرفت أيضا أن الوقت قد حان بالنسبة لي أن "اخضع " إلى إلهي . حيث أنني لم اخضع لاي شي منذ زمن طويل ولم اخضع ل زوج امي في شبابي ولا لأي رجل منذ ذلك الوقت.
حان الوقت بالنسبة لي لفتح قلبي وان اسمح لنفسي بان تغفر،تحب، وتعيش.انا لا اصلي وادعو الله على اكمل وجه ولكنني احاول. أنا أعمل بجد لاعيش إيماني. أنها ليست مجرد مسألة عدم الشرب، التدخين او ان تكون غير اخلاقي. أنها مسألة العيش مثل رجل  لديه قناعة محبة الله في قلبه.امل ان يرى الناس هذا ليس لغروري وانما لإخلاصي.