Hoping all of you are in good health, with a strong iman and deen.
Well, people keep asking me why I converted. I give them a small story which has a lot of parts missing, or some parts exaggerated, but I decided I would make this as a final response to the questions people ask me. This is the most in depth I have gone into why I converted, but this is also the closest to the true story I have given. I hope people know more about me, and realize how good Islam is after reading it.
Well, I guess it all started when I was about 8 or so years old. That was my first real opening to what Islam was. My aunt coverted some years prior, but I didnt kow about it till I walked in on her praying. After that I fell in with the stereotype that Islam was spread by the sword with Muhammad. I had Muslim friends but overall I didnt care about their religion. I was also atheist for a while (no one could explain dinosaurs or evolution to me, and little did I know now that evolution is debunked pretty easily), but that soon changed and I went back to Christianity. By the way, I was born in LA, raised in London, lived in New York, went back to London, went back to LA, then Culver City (location of Paramount, Universal, and Sony studios), and now I live in Rancho Cucamonga, which is in the middle no nowhere. I miss the city.
Flash forward to September 11th and I really hate Arabs. My Mom had lost six of her friends, and then the incident just hit me with a full force. I started saying things like “Arabs were the scum of the earth”, and I was mean to a few people, then I calmed down.
Then I moved to Rancho Cucamonga.
I saw the Malcolm X movie and started really hating white people. All the things they had done to blacks over the years, and then I managed to get a copy of his book. I remember the day, because my Uncle was really proud I was reading it. He was heavily into civil rights when he was younger. He wrote “I hope this book changes your life”, which is ironic, but more on that later.
The book riled me up. During the month or so I took to read it, I got a reputation for hating all white people. I would “say it like it is” and just speak my mind about what went on, which a lot of people don tknow about. I finished the book, along with the part of the book dedicated to how he converted to true Islam. I felt like “you know, this guy solved the race problem” and I respected Islam a hell of a lot more. I thought about joining the Nation of Islam, imagining how good I would look, and how proud I would be. A soldier for Elijah. Then that thought left my head. At that time I started looking more into Christianity as well. I hated thinking of myself as a Christian. I also questioned trinity, which was probably the catalyst. Id debate one particular Christian in my science class. I also couldnt accept Jesus as God. It didnt make sens that God’s son was God, or God on Earth. If God is allseeing and all powerful, he wouldnt need a representative.
I did a little research into Islam. I still didnt like Muslims (as Islam ws the terrorist religion for me at that time) and I did a lot of questioning and emailing to people. Well, one of these people really helped me with a lot of my problems, and I consider him a huge part of my coversion. But what really got me was the website www.beconvinced.com and the FAQ section, and finding out that Muhammad was propheseid in the Bible. That hit me liek a ton of bricks, that I had tried so hard to make Islam look bad years prior. I hated myself for a while. But at that moment I just started crying.
Then I questioned more. I looked at the shahada and how to say it, and didnt feel I should say it just yet…let it wait…
I didnt tell anybody at first. I made a few sliding comments here and there. Nothing much. Then a few people at school, particularly in my science class. A few times we had heated arguments, but the biggest one was when they told me to prove I was Muslim. I said the Shahada in english and felt weird afterword. I also almost got into a fight with a guy trying to make fun of me.
Well, i told my Mom. She was surprised, but since her sister was Muslim she didnt really care. Then she told more of her friends and I hated it. I wanted it to be my secret. I also got tired of peopel talking about Islam around me. because of the way I was raised, religion and lifestyle are totally separate for me.
Well, I started drinking beer, and other kinds of alcohol. This was whenever I visited England, and I would smoke, get drunk, etc. I hadnt taken Shahada so I didnt really care (even though I believed it, which was all it took). I did..bad things, which I wont mention here.
Then I wanted to take shahada with a proper Imam. MY mom kept delaying it, saying" the whole family should see it, whcih ill say right now was pure and utter Nonsense (sorry, I dont have any other word for it which expresses my disgust for her delaying it). I couldnt get to a Masjid. At that time, I had barely visited a single Masjid. Then I found out I was going to go to England for a vacation. that was it. I was going to go to the biggest Masjid in London and and take it, with my Aunt who was there. My Mom wouldnt delay it anymore. This was it.
So, the four of us, my 2 or so year year old Cousin, Aunt, and Mom, went down to London Central Masjid. It was a long trip, and we got lost. My Mom also told me to “dress up” like a Christian would. I wanted to wear comfortable shoes, but was forced to wear heavy boots, to “look better”. This made me angry , but the Shahada was most important. We walked through some park (regent’s park, hyde park, some kind of park the Royals used to have their kids play in), and I passed a few Muslims, which I loved. Actually to this day I dont like many things more than I like seeing a girl in hijaab.
Anyway, we finally get there. I dont know why, but my Mom has this weird arrogance and ignorance when it comes to the custom of other people. She wouldnt cover her ankles, and refused to put the scarf she was told to wear back on her head…but im getting ahead of myself.
The Shahada ceremony was terrible. The Imam could barely speak english, and when I said it, it felt like it had no meaning. I hated it. Then, he made a guy who couldnt speak english at all sign the paper saying he witnessed the ceremony, making what I felt the Shahada should be a lie. But, I left the office feeling lighter…I wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a while. The pain in my feet, it was gone. I looked around the store (seeing more girls, except this time in chadoor…and I have to admit I got nervous like I shouldnt have been around them, which makes me laugh when I think about it. I think back then I pictured Muslims girls as a special type of angel you couldnt approach). I started leaving the Masjid using the facilites downstairs (we had missed the Jummah prayer, but it didnt matter since I couldnt pray back then anyway) and headed off. I wanted to be alone, really. My Mom asked me “So, do you feel any different?”, which really spoiled the mood. I said “I just dont want anyone to talk to me right now” and waalked ahead. We went to a Muslim store and I bought a grey Kufi.
We go almost home, and the mix of bad Shahada ceremony and the comment my Mom made, along with being tired, it didnt feel right. I asked if someone could take me to another Masjid…so I could take it again. I was sort of depressed and let down by the day. My Aunt said “so we traveled there for nothing?”. and I responded with a “No”, because we had bought some books and I got a Kufi, and we got to check out the Masjid. She was peeved but agreed. We got home, and I took the bus to a small little Masjid in Plumstead, in a Muslim area of Woolwhich. I told the Imam what happened, and he stopped the talk he was giving to the people after Maghrib. Then, out of nowhere I was in front of a bunch of people. I was so nervous, that when put in front of the microphone, I told a very small and short story about why I converted, along the lines of “I was awoken to the truth” or something like that. I said the shahada, and felt it. Then, people started hugging me. People of all races, including some from Bosnia and all parts of Africa, and every part of Asia and the Middle east. I felt..brotherhood. I cant describe it any other way. It was pure, and heartfelt. When Malcolm X said “Islam solves the race”, it had never really occured to me till that moment. I stayed in the Masjid for a few hours, talked to a bunch of people about Islam, was taught how to pray (a little, I forgot how to soon after, but knew the movements now) and prayed Isha. Then, I left the Masjid. I felt like I was a Muslim now, accepted.
