Cultural shenanigans and blatant discrimination often reduced converts to becoming supplicants for acceptance. These were people who were in fact victimized twice though in different theaters.
Being in such crossfire bore into me and challenged my owe acquiescence. It would be fair to say that every individual who silently complies with an injustice shares some degree of blame.
As an individual what could I do and how long could I submit to my own fears and weaknesses. Lastly, where does someone turn when there is no voice left to listen to, no map to follow, or no obvious direction? Where is a real hiding place when a woman looks behind her and see that she is only being pursued by herself?
Without being true to oneself, you lose a sense of definition. I tried to assemble the vestiges of my spirit and fuse it together to create the Muslim I first set out to be. In starting out I was remiss, far too impressionable. I did not know, at first, whom to revere and why, whom to deny all consideration and why, and exactly who had a right to my loyalty. Eventually I learned only after counting out the passing of really tough years. I needed to keep my own visions, not have it give way to behaviors or judgments faulty in ethical principle and practice.
In the end the issue was not being faithful to America or my Arab or Muslim brothers. The issue was me and what truths I needed to uphold. Love of religion could not erase a bruised history.
In had to look inward and examine my own fantasies about brotherhood and identity, patriotism and religion, not only as a psychological phenomenon, but what the force of social and historical implications have on the Muslim individual and his personality.
