Muslim For A Year

Terror.

Terrorism.

Terrorist.

Muslims?

I couldn't understand the equation.

So against my father's wishes opened the pages of a book.

I read the Quran front to back twice in the two months before Ramadan and still didn't partake because I didn't feel worthy somehow.

My mother bought me foods that were halal.

I covered to my ankles and wrists to dress modestly.

My dad questioned my every move because I'm not Muslim.

I told him; "Daddy I cannot hold my ignorance like you. I know you don't want to listen but here, let me teach you."

I am not a quarter of the way through my journey of understanding and the questions I get are alarmingly condescending.

"Why would a strong girl choose a life of oppression?"

But I ask; Who's oppressed if I choose?

If I feel enlightened by what I read and I elect to obey it;

Who's to say I'm a lesser being?

When I pray before the sun awakes I fill with a sense knowing.

As if watching the colors paint the sky is Allah greeting me every morning.

I called this journey of mine 'Muslim for a Year' but I don't know when I'll be done searching.

One thing is for sure -

A fact in my mind -

That I can't understand how, with all the information we can touch today, we can possibly have another hate filled tomorrow.