There is a saying that goes something like, 'Change is the only constant'. I hate change. I sobbed hysterically on my last day of year 6. 'I know everyone, everyone knows me, how can I leave this place where I grew up?' I weeped as I walked the corridors on the last day of my time as a high-schooler. I wasn't leaving the school, only moving up a year. But without half of my year group; my friends, my confidants, my safety net. Tears trickled down my face as I turned back to look at the institute which had raised me on my last day of year 13. 'I'm grown-up now', I thought. Things will never be the same again. 3 years later, I had that same sickly feeling when leaving university. And then again 3 years after that, on my last day in the office where I actually 'grew up'.
History aside, my own menial life is evidence that change is inevitable. And yet, I continue to resist it. Upon reflection, perhaps mankind has the same problem as me. For every five or so decades, it seems the world picks a new prey. Hundreds of years of mistakes scream out at us to stop persecuting people, to stop spewing venom and hatred because someone is different to us, or because they believe something else. And yet, rather miraculously, it continues. We don't learn. We don't change.
I must admit that I have always made a conscious decision not to write about (my) religion. There are two reasons for this, both interconnected. In a nutshell, I find I am in a constant stream of reflection - about myself, about my actions, about my purpose. Whilst my relationship with Him is tumultuous, I do in fact believe in God and feel the aforementioned reflective conditions are connected to Him. When it comes to religion, then, I find myself often feeling that I am a Muslim by name only. At almost 25, I am yet to complete and fully comprehend the Qur'an. I barely know any hadith, much less which are concrete and which aren't - in fact - I don't even know what the defining principles of that process are. I don't consistently pray five times a day. I don't wear hijab. I haven't been on Hajj. My Islamic history is so limited, that the word 'basic' runs for the hills in case an injustice is committed against it through mere association. And to top it off, I have some pretty horrific skeletons in my closet, which perhaps I am not as actively sorry for as I should be. But are these the defining characteristics of a 'Muslim'? I know some who wouldn't hesitate to assert a firm 'Yes'. I also know some who would say 'It's not that simple'. But then which religion is? Regardless, I never felt 'qualified' to write about it. I still don't. But what I do know, is that I have a sound mind, which can reason against right and wrong. And what is currently happening around the world is grossly wrong.
Opposites are enforced upon us. For as long as I can remember, someone or something has always been in battle with something or someone else. Ideas collide, which is fascinating. But then the people behind the ideas collide, and now we're locked in a deeper battle which ultimately has no victor. When I was young, the battle was against religion and atheism. Both sides felt attacked by the other. As I sat through history lessons, I learnt about the grave injustices we had committed against one another. Endless persecution of peoples - against religions, races, genders, sexuality. I thought, 'Thank God we aren't like that anymore'. And then, there were no more history lessons and no more classrooms. Just me, stood outside, with the rest of the world…
My dad had spent years yelling about how corrupt and untrustworthy Pakistanis were. My Muslim friend's dad once hit her with an iron. My mum's Muslim friend had to flee her home after her husband threatened to kill her. I had numerous relatives back home who had apparently cheated others out of money, embarked on 'black magic' vendettas against family members, and who were generally not very nice people. Aged 10, when my mum had me join the local mosque to learn the Qur'an, the maulvi hit my hand so hard with the cane it bruised. He told me Islam allowed men to hit women. I heard stories of men taking multiple wives - a practice they said was encouraged by the Prophet. I saw documentaries on TV of women being stoned after reporting they had been raped. Men with long beards hurling nonsensical abuse at cameras. And thus was my impression of the Muslim world. No explanations. That's just how it was. Needless to say, I was mortified.
The only real example I had to counteract the negativity, was that of my grandmother's. She never missed a prayer. She spoke with a softness I have never again witnessed in another human being. She was illiterate, and yet she read the newspaper every day - she had a thirst for knowledge which seemed unquenchable. She would spend hours on the phone to people back home; listening to their problems, giving advice, settling feuds, sending money. She was kindness personified. And she was a Muslim. Her Islam didn't match the one I knew. But I definitely liked hers better.
When she died, there was no one to fight the corner of her Islam. And so I sank, further and further into despair - and consequently - further and further away from her Islam. Many years later, I received a phone call from my aunt. "There's this Muslim magazine," she said. "It's not really your thing. But sometimes they have some pretty interesting things in there." Two weeks later, I was an intern. 3 years later, I had found my grandmother's Islam again.
Ignorance cannot be fought with manmade weapons. It just can't. My mother spent years trying to shout me into what I was 'supposed' to believe, but I only ever heard the words 'hellfire' and 'sin'. And then I spoke to ordinary people, who did extraordinary things because of what they believed, and I learnt what this faith was about and why it was so unwavering. From the Muslim fireman who maintains a farm and runs educational classes for young children on healthy eating, to the blind guide-dog owner who cherishes her canine companion more than life itself - one by one, they began to deconstruct my negative preconceptions and eradicate the stereotypes I had learnt from the world. Every month, for almost three years, someone else forced me to reconsider my opinion about what it meant to be 'Muslim'. And every day, I witnessed unrelenting patience and kindness in the face of the person who founded the concept.
I am not naive, however. There was, of course, that one time I met two men who would't look at me, and refused to be served by me because I wasn't 'covered'. They reminded me that, as I had suspected, to some I am not what a 'Muslim' is and will never be. And those 'some' will always remain because that is what any belief system has - a numbers of followers, spread across a spectrum of choice. But to manipulate that fact, in order to further persecute and alienate a people is just absurd. What I've seen in the news over the past year is nothing short of a smear campaign. The headlines, the fabricated reports, the so-called "Islamic sayings" - it's just ridiculous. If it wasn't so dangerous and vindictive, I'd laugh. News reports assert that this pathetic home-video is responsible for the building chaos but I cannot help but feel that suggestion is a mockery of the world's intelligence. No doubt it was a catalyst, but the issue undoubtedly runs deeper. I imagine the Muslim world has had enough. I certainly have. No, I don't think storming and burning buildings is protest. I think it's vandalism. But I also think if solitary confinement and unrelenting injustice is prolonged, it leads people to react - to make themselves heard. The Qur'an teaches to tread the earth in peace. And yet, I am so angry, and so helpless. I feel any display of peace is being met with a larger blow from an ignorant and repulsively vindictive regime.
All I know is that what is happening is wrong, and no one is opening up a history book to take note of the past. No one is remembering that we've been here before, and we've done this before, and that we were sorry and said that we'd change. We said we would change but we haven't.
