The sometimes lonely intersection between America & Islam
Source: crossingthecrescent.com, 01-10-2008
By Junaid on October 1st, 2008
As you've already heard (or have gotten tired of hearing), Eid, the culmination of the Muslim month of fasting, is a time of joy, laughs, celebration, sweets, and family gatherings.
But for myself - and, I suspect, some other American Muslims, none of the above apply.
I fondly remember a couple of Eids in Pakistan: an endless tour of relatives' homes; cash gifts for the younger ones; mass prayers in which Muslims stand shoulder to shoulder, line after line, in an awe-inspiring display of disciplined unity rarely scene before or after such services.
But here and now, those memories seem faint and distant, like a dream whose contents disappear into the fog the harder ones tries to force them into focus.
Relatives to visit? The country is huge; even those within America are spread out across hundreds if not thousands of miles. Morning prayers? Work obligations sometimes make that impossible, even if you have nominal approval to take a religious holiday off.
A few acquaintances might offer an "Eid Mubarak!" but the greeting rings hollow and seems empty of content, like a skinned and stuffed deer on display. In the absence of any visible, tangible signs of celebration, it falls into the same ignominious category as the politically-correct "Happy Holidays!" sloganeering that pours out of lips as surely as snow falls from the skies during Christmas time.
It's partly, but not only, the function of being in a minority. It's also about living in a country that is divided between the extremely secular and the extremely religious. The former make little room for those who practice their faith, and the latter makes little room for those who practice another faith.
The intersection between America and Islam is sometimes a very lonely one.
By Junaid on October 1st, 2008
As you've already heard (or have gotten tired of hearing), Eid, the culmination of the Muslim month of fasting, is a time of joy, laughs, celebration, sweets, and family gatherings.
But for myself - and, I suspect, some other American Muslims, none of the above apply.
I fondly remember a couple of Eids in Pakistan: an endless tour of relatives' homes; cash gifts for the younger ones; mass prayers in which Muslims stand shoulder to shoulder, line after line, in an awe-inspiring display of disciplined unity rarely scene before or after such services.
But here and now, those memories seem faint and distant, like a dream whose contents disappear into the fog the harder ones tries to force them into focus.
Relatives to visit? The country is huge; even those within America are spread out across hundreds if not thousands of miles. Morning prayers? Work obligations sometimes make that impossible, even if you have nominal approval to take a religious holiday off.
A few acquaintances might offer an "Eid Mubarak!" but the greeting rings hollow and seems empty of content, like a skinned and stuffed deer on display. In the absence of any visible, tangible signs of celebration, it falls into the same ignominious category as the politically-correct "Happy Holidays!" sloganeering that pours out of lips as surely as snow falls from the skies during Christmas time.
It's partly, but not only, the function of being in a minority. It's also about living in a country that is divided between the extremely secular and the extremely religious. The former make little room for those who practice their faith, and the latter makes little room for those who practice another faith.
The intersection between America and Islam is sometimes a very lonely one.
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