Salam friends,
I am so happy you’re here! For my first post, I thought I’d share a little bit more about myself, my experience growing up as an American Muslim, and why I decided to start this blog.
As I mentioned in my “About Me,” I am a Palestinian Muslim, born and raised here in the States. That fact alone has shaped my entire life from a very young age, especially after 9/11. Growing up, there weren’t many, if any Muslims living in my community, at least as far as I knew, so I was always the only Muslim in my classes and friend groups.
I was very lost as a young girl. The change-into-shorts-in-the-school-bathroom-to-fit-in kind of lost. The kind of lost where I envied the light hair, colored eyes, and cool lifestyle of other girls and resented my own unruly, curly hair, dark features and the strict lifestyle I had.
And when it came to things like boys, understanding my body, going through puberty, or navigating fashion and makeup (let’s just say my raccoon eye makeup phase lasted quite a while), there was no one I could turn to for advice, support, or guidance. It was very challenging and sometimes even lonely and isolating.
I literally felt like I was living two completely separate lives and had no idea how to connect the two. I mean, I am still trying to figure it out, but it’s a little bit easier now than it was back then. At the time, I would go from being surrounded by pop culture and all the latest trends at school to being surrounded by all things Middle Eastern and deen at home.
And so, I would transition back and forth from being the Aeropostale-wearing, pop-music listening, all-American wannabe to the Arabic speaking, Quran listening, and Turkish Soap Opera watching girl who, in reality, couldn’t get enough of the labna and zaatar sandwhiches she was too embarrassed to eat in school. I truly loved different aspects of both these worlds and identities, but I often felt very conflicted about who I was and the person I wanted to be.
It didn’t help that I also grew up with all brothers, who, don’t get me wrong, I love and appreciate to death, but it was very difficult. I not only felt incredibly alone in my experiences, but I resented the fact that I was treated differently than them because I am a girl. It was always “no” this or you can’t do that.
In a time where being Muslim was already unfavorable, it pushed an even bigger wedge between myself and my faith. It just felt like Islam was so unfair, and that as a Muslim girl, my opportunities were so limited, not only because of the discrimination I thought I would potentially face, but because of the restrictions the religion would impose on me. Or so I thought, but boy was I wrong.
It wasn’t until I got older that I understood it was never truly religion that enforced all of these rules and limitations, it was actually culture disguised as religion. It was easier for our parents to just call culturally unacceptable things haram, so that we couldn’t ask twice about or object to them. Well played, mom and dad (and most of the other Muslim parents of our generation out there).
That really shifted my perspective and inspired me to want to learn more about Islam. What also helped was the year I spent overseas in Palestine after I graduated high school. I learned so much about my roots, the culture, our traditions, and saw the beauty of Islam that is overshadowed with judgment and negative stereotypes here in America.
Hearing the Athan ring throughout the entire village, seeing the groups of people walk to and from the local mosque, and being surrounded by such warm, devout, and kind-spirited people was so inspiring. And I couldn’t get enough of the culture either–the dabke, the never-ending wedding parties and celebrations, the food (oh, the food!), and the late-night chats on the rooftop accompanied with Coca-Cola and sunflower seeds (okay, that isn’t really a cultural thing, but it may as well be for my fam at least!).
Seriously though, when my three-month trip came to an end, I wasn’t ready to come back home yet. So, I ended up deferring college for a year and stayed there until the end of the following summer. I used the excuse that it was a chance to learn the language and culture more, which I actually did, but I was really in it for the fun, and there was so much I still wanted to see.
For the first time, I was truly proud of where I came from, and I finally began to fully embrace that part of myself that I had rejected and even felt a little embarrassed about for so long.
So when I finally came back to the states, I made a promise to myself that I would unapologetically and proudly embrace each aspect of myself–Palestinian, Muslim, and American, and that I would live a lifestyle that was in line with my faith, no matter what challenges I faced along the way.
I went from being a girl that wanted so badly to be everything but who she was, to one that loved herself because of her differences instead of in spite of them.
A girl that went from feeling held back to now being empowered by her faith.
But in order to get there, I had to really immerse myself in my faith and culture, and become open to the things I had been so closed off to. Essentially, I had to relearn them with a fresh, open mind.
And let me tell you, while my experience still wasn’t exactly easy, especially throughout college, it was and is definitely easier. I am no longer constantly at odds with myself, fighting an internal battle and living two separate lives. I have finally found a balance and am at peace with who I am both internally and externally (I’ve also become a little better at the whole modest fashion thing, too). So then, it became only a matter of owning it, and not allowing the external to disturb that peace.
By that, I mean not allowing society to influence my better judgment and make me question or shy away from who I am or my truth. Instead, I can better focus that energy on my growth and toward reaching my fullest potential as an American Palestinian Muslim woman.
So yes, life here in America can definitely be hard as a Muslim. But to be honest, we make it harder for ourselves when we let our own internal conflicts get the best of us. We often project our own assumptions, fears and judgments onto others, when I’ve found most people to be genuinely accepting of, curious about, and interested in learning more about my faith and my differences when given the chance.
Remember, you may just be the first Muslim someone has ever met or come across, so represent who you are with dignity and pride. There will always be those people who already have misled preconceived notions and judgments about us, but Inshallah by wholeheartedly being ourselves, we can help change that.
One thing is for sure: the same love, respect, and acceptance we expect from or want to spread to others, we have to give to ourselves first.
I created this blog because it was something I wish I had when I was that young, lost, and confused girl. I wish I had someone I could look up to for support, guidance, and inspiration, and so, I want to be that for all the other girls and women out there who need it.
To any girl out there struggling, I hope that sharing my experiences and journey will be inspiring and will help you in some way, even if it’s just knowing that you are not alone in your struggles. I promise, you will find your way.
xoxo,
What was your experience like growing up Muslim in America? Whether you can relate to my experience or not, I’d love to hear your story. Share it with me in the comments below!
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