asalaamu alaykum ( peace be with you all!!)
I am back in action, I have recently made a move out of Chicago to a nearby community known as Rockford as I have begun my career in this isolated location. I have not had time to blog or express my opinions on this wordpress majiggy due to my overextension of myself into different projects and the rekindling of friendships. Please keep me in your du’as as I hope to be opening my heart back up here shortly….
A man was walking through the marketplace one afternoon when, just as the muezzin began the call to prayer, his eye fell on a woman’s back. She was strangely attractive, though dressed in fulsome black, a veil over head and face, and she now turned to him as if somehow conscious of his over-lingering regard, and gave him a slight but meaningful nod before she rounded the corner into the lane of silk sellers. As if struck by a bolt from heaven, the man was at once drawn, his heart a prisoner of that look, forever. In vain he struggled with his heart, offering it one sound reason after another to go his way-wasn’t it time to pray?-but it was finished: there was nothing but to follow.
He hastened after her, turning into the market of silks, breathing from the exertion of catching up with the woman, who had unexpectedly outpaced him and even now lingered for an instant at the far end of the market, many shops ahead. She turned toward him, and he thought he could see a flash of a mischievous smile from beneath the black muslin of her veil, as she-was it his imagination?-beckoned to him again.
The poor man was beside himself. Who was she? The daughter of a wealthy family? What did she want? He requickened his steps and turned into the lane where she had disappeared. And so she led him, always beyond reach, always tantalizingly ahead, now through the weapons market, now the oil merchants’, now the leather sellers’; farther and farther from where they began. The feeling within him grew rather than decreased. Was she mad? On and on she led, to the very edge of town.
The sun declined and set, and there she was, before him as ever. Now they were come, of all places, to the City of Tombs. Had he been in his normal senses, he would have been afraid, but indeed, he now reflected, stranger places than this had seen a lovers’ tryst.
There were scarcely twenty cubits between them when he saw her look back, and, giving a little start, she skipped down the steps and through the great bronze door of what seemed to be a very old sepulcher. A soberer moment might have seen the man pause, but in his present state, there was no turning back, and he went down the steps and slid in after her.
Inside, as his eyes saw after a moment, there were two flights of steps that led down to a second door, from whence a light shone, and which he equally passed through. He found himself in a large room, somehow unsuspected by the outside world, lit with candles upon its walls. There sat the woman, opposite the door on a pallet of rich stuff in her full black dress, still veiled, reclining on a pillow against the far wall. To the right of the pallet, the man noticed a well set in the floor.
“Lock the door behind you,” she said in a low, husky voice that was almost a whisper, “and bring the key.”
He did as he was told.
She gestured carelessly at the well. “Throw it in.”
A ray of sense seemed to penetrate for a moment the clouds over his understanding, and a bystander, had there been one, might have detected the slightest of pauses.
“Go on,” she said laughingly, “You didn’t hesitate to miss the prayer as you followed me here, did you?”
He said nothing.
“The time for sunset prayer has almost finished as well,” she said with gentle mockery. “Why worry? Go on, throw it in. You want to please me, don’t you?”
He extended his hand over the mouth of the well, and watched as he let the key drop. An uncanny feeling rose from the pit of his stomach as moments passed but no sound came. He felt wonder, then horror, then comprehension.
“It is time to see me,” she said, and she lifted her veil to reveal not the face of a fresh young girl, but of a hideous old crone, all darkness and vice, not a particle of light anywhere in its eldritch lines.
“See me well,” she said. “My name is Dunya, This World. I am your beloved. You spent your time running after me, and now you have caught up with me. In your grave. Welcome, welcome.”
At this she laughed and laughed, until she shook herself into a small mound of fine dust, whose fitful shadows, as the candles went out, returned to the darkness one by one…..
A question posed by most of my family members and some of my friends when I tell them I cannot eat or drink until the sunsets. It is hard for them to understand why we fast, and even more so, at such an intense level that no one else fasts at. For those of you who are not aware, this is the blessed month of Ramadhan. A month that is extremely revered for Muslims. In most religious traditions, days that are considered special, holy, or important usually call for celebration. Which is understandable, as humans we have this deep desire to have fun and do pleasing things that we don’t usually get do on these special days. Well in Islam, we refrain from food and drink for 30 days from sunrise to sunset, but that is not all we refrain from. We also refrain from poor behavior, from lustful thoughts and anything else that is spiritually damaging. We believe that during this month, shaytan (satan) is chained up and cannot try to coerce us with his evil whispers. So any negative things we do are solely from ourselves. This is a great month for us to get closer to God and reflect on our relationship with the Most High.
What I find really interesting is the linguistic history of this month. So, Ramadhan has a root word and that root word is ramida or arramad, meaning intense scorching heat. I have recently been informed on the conceptual significance of this term and feel compelled to share it. This month of fasting has several effects on us. But linguistically, this root word has several characteristics that are manifested over these thirty days. One characterisitc of ‘ramida’ is that by refraining from eating and drinking we get an intense sensation of heat in our stomachs. Inevitably, this heat assists us in becoming more disciplined in our eating habits and physically makes our stomachs smaller.
A second characteristic of ‘ramida’ is that this intense heat has the ability to purify things. For example, I used to be a big camper and when we would find water in a river or somewhere taht we REALLY needed water, we would boil it a few times to rid it of as many impurities as possible. As humans, water is a major component of our cellular makeup. This intense ‘heat’ of Ramdhan gives purifies us in a spiritual sense. Now you may not believe me, but you almost have to try it to believe it. This is my fifth year fasting, second year benig Muslim. Through my experiences I have felt how close to God I get durign this month. I was talking to a few different friends this week and each one of them told me how they almost wnat to cry because Ramdhan is almost over. That is beautiful, even though we fast and struggle throughout the day, not one single Muslim I know wants to give up even one day of this month because of the effects it has on us spiritually. NOTHING, nothing else I have ever experienced in my life has the ability to spiritually rejuvenate you as fasting in the month of Ramadhan does.
The third and probably most profound characteristic of this word is another property intense heat which is it’s ability to mold things. Let us take a piece of metal. It is used to build skyscrapers in Chicago becaus it is so strong and sturdy, but if we apply intense heat ‘ramida’ to it, it will become soft and malleable. The beauty of this is that it happens to us too. We go into Ramdhan with a year of bad, unbreakable habits. This month softens our eharts and enables us to mold our behaviors, our actions, and our mentalities. Once the heat leaves, our hearts cool off and harden with these new virtues inscribed in our hearts. There is this age old American tradition of ‘New Years Resolutions’ which I have always personally found silly. You cannot simply cahnge a behavior over night, because an outward behaviors is a refleciton of an inward condition. We must change these conditions in order to bring about an effect. For example, when you have an illness, do you treat the symptoms? or the source of the symptoms? Likewise, as the name suggest, Ramadhan instills this fury of heat into our spirit and changes us for the better.
If you are not a Muslim, I highly suggest you try fasting for just one day. Talk to one of your Muslims friends and tell them you want to fast with them, I guarantee you that you will get somethign more out of it than just a grumbling stomach, a dry mouth, and bad breath. If you are Muslim and you are not fasting for whatever reason you may have drafted up in your mind, no worldy gain can make up for what it is that you are missing out on.
Until next time, peace out my peeps…
Enjoy these last few days of Ramadhan!! Take full advantage of the ‘intense heat’! #c6b06b
I attended the funeral of Imam Warith Deen Mohammad last week and was truly moved to see the number of people who showed up. Some estimates were up to 8000 people! wow.. Imagine a man with such a character that could draw that many people to his funeral. Well, Imam W.D. Mohammad did, and for a good reason. He brought light to so many African Americans living in the neverending cycle of societal oppression here in the US. He brought true guidance and a true sense of self-worth to the community. After I read this email by Azhar Usman, it honestly brought tears to my eyes.. I do not know if I am getting more soft with my old age or if the presence of injustice and irrational thinking is just really getting to me. Please read the email below and tell me what it means to you!!!
An Apology
Heartfelt reflections on the passing of a legendary Blackamerican Muslim leader
On September 11th, 2008, while countless American flags whipped in the wind and the television and radio waves were dominated by remembrances, recordings, and stories about the terror attacks of seven years ago, I attended the funeral of Imam W.D. Mohammed (may God be pleased with him). For me, it was a somber day, but I found myself mostly lost in thought: about African-American Muslim communities, about the challenges ahead in American Muslim institution-building, and about the future of Islam in America. If you don’t know who Imam WDM was, you should look him up. The Sufis say: “The true sage belongs to his era.” And of the many gifts given to Imam WDM by God,20perhaps the most obvious and beneficial one was the Imam’s profound understanding of the principles of religion, and his adeptness at intelligently applying those Islamic principles in a socially and culturally appropriate manner befitting the everyday lives of his North American followers. While carefully respecting sound, traditional jurisprudential methodologies of the Islamic religion, and the collective religious history and time-honored scholarship of classical Islam, he promulgated creative ideas and dynamic teachings across many domains of human endeavor, including theology, law, spirituality and even ethics and aesthetics, that together articulated a vision for a quintessentially “American Muslim” cultural identity. And he did all of this before anyone else, with quiet strength and unending humility—a true sage indeed.
So I stood before his final resting place, brokenhearted. And I suddenly began to feel the weight of the moment, realizing that when God takes back one of his dearly beloved friends, those who are left behind should cry not for the deceased, but rather for themselves. For the fact that they are now without one of God’s friends in their midst, and, in a sense, they are orphaned. And the tears began to well up, for I became acutely aware that I was standing in front of the grave of my spiritual grandfather, who was himself a spiritual descendant of Bilal al-Habashi (may God be pleased with him), the mighty and beloved companion of the Prophet himself. Bilal was the first Black African to convert to al-Islam at the hands of the Prophet Muhammad (may God bless him and keep him) in the sands of Arabia nearly a thousand and a half years ago. Undoubtedly, some measure of that love, mercy, compassion, and spiritual stature that inhabited the heart of Bilal has found its way down through the ages, and I found myself begging God to transfer to my own heart some glimpse of these realities now laying before me.
Almost five years ago, my business partner, Preacher Moss (who is a member of the WDM community) founded the standup comedy tour “Allah Made Me Funny,” and he invited me to be his co-founder. Needless to say, it has been nothing less than an honor to work with him on the project. But to many, it was an unusual pairing: a Black comic and an Indian comic? Both Muslims? Working together? And before we ever even announced our partnership publicly, we met privately and swore an allegiance to one another—a blood oath of sorts—which was this: No matter what happens, in good times and in bad, we have to be the brothers no one expects us to be. And bui lt on this promise (and premise), we brought on our first collaborator, Brother Azeem (who is a member of Minister Farrakhan’s NOI), with whom we toured for over two years (2004-2006) before parting ways amicably. Then we brought Mohammed Amer onto the team in the fall of 2006 (a Kuwaiti-born Palestinian refugee who grew up in a Sunni Muslim family in Houston, Texas). Mo, Preach, and I are still going strong together, and we are grateful for the unqualified support, love, and blessings that Imam WDM and the entire community have always given us.
But today, as I observed the funeral proceedings, I felt sad and heavy-hearted. Something wasn’t sitting right. Something was physically paining my heart, and it felt like remorse, shame perhaps, maybe even guilt. I began to realize that the tears flowing from my eyes were as much a function of these feelings as they were any lofty spiritual aspirations of mine.
You see, I attended an interfaith event a couple of years ago on 9/11. A group had assembled to commemorate the tragic event, to honor those who perished that day, and to pledge ongoing in ter-community support and bridge-building to fight ignorance, hate, and intolerance. At that event, there was this short, middle-aged, sweet, extremely kindhearted, White Christian woman. When she took the microphone to speak, she was already teary-eyed, and I assumed that she was going to make some comments about the victims of 9/11, as so many others already had that night.
But she didn’t do that. Instead, she explained that she had become utterly grief-stricken by the constant barrage of news stories she witnessed about Muslims and Arabs being harassed, profiled, and mistreated after 9/11. She explained that she felt powerless to do anything about it, and that it made her sick to her stomach to hear of hate crimes against Muslims and Arabs, and especially to hear of Christian preachers denigrating Islam and its Prophet. She started to cry, and so did many others in the room, humbled by the magnanimity of this simple woman.
And then she did what I thought was a strange thing: she apologized. She prefaced her apology with all the logical disclaimers, such as “I know this may mean nothing to20you,” and “I know that I am not the one who did these horrible things,” and “I know that you may dismiss this as empty rhetoric until you see some follow-up action on my part, but anyway,” she continued, “I want to apologize on behalf of all the Christians and all non-Muslims and non-Arabs who have been attacking your communities, harassing your people, and accusing your religion of all these horrible things. I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry.” I was stunned. Speechless, in fact. Though all of her disclaimers were true, and my skeptical mind knew it, her apology melted our hearts. Here was this powerless servant of God sharing some of her most deeply felt emotional vulnerabilities, and she was apologizing to Muslims for something she didn’t even do? Jesus (may God bless him and keep him) once famously remarked: “Make the world your teacher,” and so I immediately took this woman as a lesson in humility. Admitting her powerlessness made her incredibly powerful.
And this brings me to the point (and title) of this essay. I would like to unburden myself of something that has been sitting like a ton of bricks on my heart for my entire life. I want to apologize to my Blackamerican brothers and sisters in Islam. I know that this apology may not mean very much; and I know that our American Musli m communities have a LONG way to go before we can have truly healthy political conciliation and de-racialized religious cooperation; and I know that I am not the one who is responsible for so much of the historical wrongdoing of so-called “immigrant Muslims”—wrongdoings that have been so hurtful, and insulting, and degrading, and disrespectful, and dismissive, and marginalizing, and often downright dehumanizing.
But anyway, for every “Tablighi” brother who may have had “good intentions” in his own subjective mind, but behaved in an utterly insensitive and outrageous manner toward you when he suggested that you need to learn how to urinate correctly, I’m sorry.
And for every Pakistani doctor who can find money in his budget to drive a Lexus and live in a million-dollar house in suburbia, and who has the audacity to give Friday sermons about the virtues of “Brotherhood in Islam,” while the “Black mosque” can’t pay the heating bills or provide enough money to feed starving Muslim families just twenty miles away, I’m sorry.
And for every Arab speaker in America who makes it his business to raise millions and millions of dollars to provide “relief” for Muslim refugees around the world, but turns a blind eye to the plight of our very own Muslim sisters and brothers right here in our American inner cities just because, in his mind, the color black might as well be considered invisible, I’m sorry.
And for every liquor store in the “hood” with a plaque that says Maashaa’ Allah hanging on the wall behind the counter, I’m sorry.
And for every news media item or Hollywood portrayal that constantly reinforces the notion that “Muslim=foreigner” so that the consciousness of Blackamerican Muslims begins even to doubt itself (asking “Can I ever be Muslim enough?”), I’m sorry.
And for every Salafi Muslim brother (even the ones who used to be Black themselves before converting to Arab) who has rattled off a hadith or a verse from Koran in Arabic as his “daleel” to Kafirize you and make you feel defensive about even claiming this deenas your own, I’m sorry.
And for every time you’ve been asked “So when did you convert to Islam?” even though that question should more properly have been put to your grandparents, since they became Muslims by the grace of God Almighty back in the 1950s, and raised your parents as believers, and Islam is now as much your own inheritance as it is the one’s posing that presumptuous, condescending question, I’m sorry.
And for every time some Muslim has self-righteously told you that your hijab is not quite “Shariah” enough, or your beard is not quite “Sunnah” enough, or your outfit is not quite “Islamic” enough, or your Koranic recitation is not quite “Arabic” enough, or your family customs are not quite “traditional” enough, or your worldview is not quite “classical” enough, or your ideas are not “authentic” enough, or your manner of making wuduis not quite “Hanafi,” “Shafi,” “Maliki,” or “Hanbali” enough, or your religious services are not quite “Masjid” enough, or your chicken is not quite “Halal” enough, I’m sorry.
And for every Labor Day weekend when you’ve felt divided in your heart, wondering “When will we everdo this thing right and figure out how we can pool our collective resources to have ONE, big convention?,” I’m sorry.
And for every time a Muslim has tried to bait you with a question about the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, trying to force you to condemn him—turning it into some sort of binary litmus test of true iman—with reckless and irresponsible disregard for the historical fact that he was among the first Black men in America to ever do anythingmeaningful for the upliftment and betterment of Black people, I’m sorry.
And for every20time you’ve heard of an African-American brother who tried to bring home a South Asian or Arab sister to meet his parents, only to learn that her parents would rather commit suicide than let their daughter marry a “Black Muslim” (a/k/a “Bilalian brother”), even as they cheer hypocritically at stadium style speeches by Imams Siraj Wahhaj, Zaid Shakir, Johari Abdul Malik, or others—or get in line to bring one of them to speak at their multi-million dollar fundraiser for yet another superfluous suburban mosque, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I want every African-American Muslim brother and sister to know that I am ashamed of this treatment that you have received and, in many cases, continue to receive, over the decades. I want you to know that I am aware of it. I am conscious of the problem. (Indeed, I am even conscious that I myself am part of the problem since curing hypocrisy begins by looking in the mirror.) I am not alone in this apology. There are literally thousands, if not tens of thousands of young American Muslims just like me, born to immigrant parents who originate from all over the Muslim world. We get it, and we too are sick of the putrid stench of racism within our own Muslim communities. Let us pledge to w ork on this problem together, honestly validating our own and one another’s insecurities, emotions, and feelings regarding these realities. Forgiveness is needed to right past wrongs, yet forgiveness is predicated on acknowledging wrongdoing and sincerely apologizing. Let us make a blood oath of sorts.
When the bulldozer came to place the final mounds of dirt over the tomb of Imam WDM, I was standing under a nearby tree, under the light drizzle that had just begun (perhaps as a sign of mercy dropping from the heavens as the final moments of the burial were drawing to a close), and I was talking to a dear friend and sister in faith, whose family has been closely aligned with Imam WDM for decades. She shared with me a story that her father had just related to her about the passing of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad in 1975 (the same year I was born, incidentally). She told me that her father described the scene in the immediate aftermath of Elijah’s demise: utter confusion and chaos within the NOI and the communities surrounding it. There was much debate and discord about what direction the NOI would take, and many were still in shock and denial that the founder had actually died. Out of the midst of that confusion arose Imam WDM, and along with his strong leadership came an even more, perhaps20surprisingly courageous direction: the path away from the Black nationalism, pan-Africanism, and proto-religious beliefs of his father, and instead the unequivocal charge toward mainstream Islam, the same universal and cosmopolitan faith held and practiced by over a billion adherents worldwide. In this manner, her father explained, the death of Elijah Muhammad became a definitive end to a chapter in our collective history, and the resulting re-direction by Imam WDM marked the beginning of the next, far better, chapter in that unfolding history.
Maybe I am just an idealistic fool, or maybe Pharaoh Sanders was right about the Creator’s Master Plan, but I sincerely believe that all we have to do—all of us together: Black folks, South Asians (Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis), Arabs from every part of the Middle East and North Africa, Southeast Asians (Indonesians and Malaysians), Persians, Turks, Latinos, assorted Muslims of all stripes, colors, and backgrounds, and yes, even our White Muslim brothers and sisters—is live up to a simple promise to one another: No matter what happens, in good times and in bad, we have to be the brothers and sisters no one expects us to be.
It is hoped that the passing of Imam WDM will also mark the end of a chapter in our collective American Muslim history, and perhaps now, in earnest, we can all look together toward The Third Resurrection.
May God mend our broken hearts, lift our spirits, purify our souls, heal the rifts between our communities, unify our aims, remove our obstacles, defeat our enemies, and bless and accept our humble offerings and service.
——————————————-
© 2008 Azhar Usman | 10 Ramadan 1429 | 11 September 2008
About the Author
Azhar Usman is a Chicago-based, full-time standup comedian. He is co-founder of “Allah Made Me Funny—The Official Muslim Comedy Tour,” which has toured extensively all over the world. He is frequently interviewed, profiled, and quoted in the press, and he is an advisor to the Inner-city Muslim Action Network’s Arts and Culture programs. Mr. Usman is also a co-founding board member of The Nawawi Foundation, a non-profit American Muslim research institution. He considers himself a citizen of the world and holds degrees from the University of Illinois at Chicago and the University of Minnesota Law School. Born and raised in Chicago, his parents originally hail from Bihar, India.
DISCLAIMER: The views and emotions expressed in this essay are those of the author and are not necessarily held, advocated, or even endorsed by any of the institutions with which he may be affiliated.
SCREEEEECH (nails scratching on a chalk board), we are all familiar with that hair-raising auditory sensation.. For many non-muslims, they do not understand that most muslims have that exact same sensation, plus a little bit of frustration, everytime we hear someone label us as “mozlems.”
There are many reasons. One, being a speech pathologist, I do not understand how anyone who was raised speaking the English language can read a string of orthography m-u-s-l-i-m and somehow come up with their own way of pronunciation. Secondly, that word is almost always used when people are trying to insult muslims. I have seldom heard someone use the aberrant pronunciation of “mozlem” to speak anything good of muslims. For example, the videos that can be seen almost weekly on the news of frightened voters saying, “I don’t want no mozlem as president, this is our country!” Contextually, anyone can see that this term is typically used in a condescending manner. Thirdly, most people are not aware of this, even muslims. The allophonic expression of mozlem for muslim has no linguistic significance in English; however, in Arabic, this term not only has a linguistic significance, but it the two words are polar opposites.
Let me explain this third point in more detail.
A Muslim is an arabic term for someone who submits to God. The belief held by Muslims is that all of the previous prophets (Adam, Noah, Moses, Abraham, Jesus, etc ‘peace be upon them all’) were all Muslims in the sense that they submitted themselves entirely and unselfishly to their Lord, the Most High out of love and obedience.
In the past few decades and in most western literature, Muslims have been labeled Mozlems or Mohammadans. I am not going to argue why the term Mohamadan is incorrect in this post; however, it is a term that does not apply to those who submit to God, for they are followers of God and God alone. Academically, this term is no longer used due to it being a false label. So, when it comes to the prononcuation of Muslim as Mozlem, we have changed the meaning of the word in Arabic. Muslims means one who submits to God, whereas, the word Mozlem is the name for a person who is evil and unjust. One who submits to God vs. one who is evil and unjust. The meaning of Mozlem fundamentally goes against the true teachings of Islam.
Another illustration of this point is that a simple google search of MOZLEM will yield thousands upon thousands of hate posts. It is a term that enemies of humanity use to offend and degrade Muslims. This gets to a larger issue that people truly believe that Muslims should be labeled as MOZLEMS. This is of great concern to me and should be to any other conscious Muslims. The people and enemies at the time of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) would have never considered him a man of evil nor an unjust man. The people of Quraysh who hated him and wanted him dead did so not because he was evil or unjust, but because he was bringing justice, introducing a path to get closer to God, and taking the power away from the aristocratic elite and putting it into the hands of the people. We as Muslims should realize that we are fighting for the soul of our religion and we must not ever stop. We can no longer allow a radical/puritanical minority to define a religion of purity and peace such as Islam. Nor can we allow the media to define something they have no true knowledge about. My suggestion, work on perfecting your actions through consistency, sincerity and pure intentions. Islam spread not via the sword as many ill-informed people may suspect, but rather through the character and beauty of Islam as portrayed by the submitters of God. There are countless stories of people who accepted Islam purely based of off the character of the Prophet (pbuh) and seeing how sincere and truthful he was. May God give us all the ability to follow the true Sunnah of Prophet Muhammad pbuh.
Read this short story to truly understand why Prophet Muhammad pbuh was considered ‘The Prophet of Mercy.’
After Muhammad’s (pbuh) revelations began in Makkah, persecution and plots arose against him as well as the growing number of people who knew his Message was from God. Due to attempts on his life, he migrated to Yathrib/Madinah to live with the people of that community who promised to protect him. After several battles, resulting in a minimal number of casualties, Prophet Muhammad and the Muslims finally took back the city of Makkah. Despite the atrocities commited against the Muslim community, Prophet Muhammad entered Makkah seeking total peace and while he rode into the city on the back of his camel prostrating in humility and prasing God, the thought of revenge never crossed his mind. He said to the ruling tribe of Makkah(the Quraysh) who had persecuted the Muslims and tried to assasinate Prophet Muhammad several times with a voice full of compassion and tenderness:
When in history has an oppressed community peacefully overthrown an aristocaracy and implemented a just and faith based society. Prophet Muhammad pbuh, showed the Mercy of God towards humanity through his very own actions. Overnight, virtually every member of the Makkan society had embraced Islam. Why? Not because a sword was at their throats, but rather becuase they were captivated and their hearts melted by the very character and conduct of Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him.
So, when you hear someone mislabeling Muslims, please tell them how disrespectful they are being. Thank you for your time!
For more info regarding the Muslim vs Mozlem issue, please visit this website http://hnn.us/articles/524.html
I have to be completly frank, I am disgusted with the way our government is run. Our government does some amazing things; however, the current administration’s negatives far outweigh it’s positives. President Bush with an everso decreasing approval rating, has done nothing short of disappointing me time and time again. I think most Americans are familiar with this story of disappointment. Do not mistake my words as anti-American. I love this nation and respect it. I just want us to revive and enrich the true American spirit, not sustain continue in the direction which we are headed. So, here is my problem…
After 8 years of this feeling, I felt as if my dreams have been answered as an articulate, intellectual and dashing young man by the name of Barack Obama popped on the scene as a Senator a few years back. Even as an Illinois state senator, his message was promising and his vision seemed well thought out. Somehow, with only a few years of work as a senator, Barack came flying into the running for PRESIDENCY.. Pure craziness to think that a man could elevate himself in this political landscape so quickly. After reflecting upon his rise, I realized that he did not elevate himself, rather the people of this nation elevated him due to his message of change. Change is a concept that most of us youth in America have been waiting quite sometime for. It is only logical that this message would appeal to the nation’s future leaders (our generation). I quickly fell in love with what he offered us and his vision for tommorow, denying the accusations of my parents “All politicians Talk the Talk, but Walking the Walk is very very very RARE!” As a naive 24 year old man, I told my parents that he is honest, sincere, and brings a plan to change the state of politics in the US. I myself do not like the politcal landscape in this country nor in most other countries for that matter; however, we must remain active before we lose all hope.
I have supported Obama and will continue to. I feel obliged to be completely honest and express how Barack has left me extremelt disheartened with him over the past month.
Issue 1 – Obama’s campaign has been hard at work trying to dispell myths that Obama is a Muslim. So what if he is, I am a Muslim. Are the vast majority of Americans willing to admit that they look down on Muslims? In their efforts of debunking this myth, he has unintentionally villianized Muslim-Americans.
Issue 2- Obama’s pro-Israel stance is truly dissappointing. I was always impressed on how objectively Obama approahed situations and always derived the best response. I must admit that I gave him too much credit. His stances on Israel prove that he is just another politician. What a shame.
Issue 3- “The Hijab Conflict” Obama’s campaign REFUSING to let Muslim-American women wearing the hijab to sit behind Obama at his speech in Michigan. In case you did not know, Michigan has the largest population of Muslims in America. His campaigns willingness to succomb to such cheap tactics further illustrate his politicianess.
Issue 4- Obama’s aides refused to let Rep. Keith Ellison to endorse Obama in a speech made by Ellison at a mosque in Iowa. They did not want the American public to know that Obama is the candidate that the majority of Muslims endorse.
Too bad for them, they WERE right. A majority of Muslims in this country did support Obama, including myself. He was the candidate who offered the restoration of the principles America was founded on, social justice and equality. Now, with Obama’s odor of anti-islamic sentiment, this may no longer be the case. I do prefer Obama over McCain, but that is just because I must choose the lesser of two evils. I hope Obama honestly approaches such situations with more tact and respect in the future. Until then, adios Obama, I no longer support you. 
Do not fret, McCain sure is not getting my support either!
So, our most recent Project Downtown event was this past Sunday and it was a typical Sunday in the Chi. I woke up, picked up some brothers and rolled out to the wonderful city. The sun was shining and people were smiling. Once we go to the Ickes Homes the whole word flipped upside down. Around 7:30 AM, right after we had set up our tables and began handing out food, a storm literally appeared out of nowhere. Storm, shmorm, us PDers are not afraid of any rain. But what struck us was not just rain. It was a wind that began to violently blow through State St forcing garbage cans into flight! Road blocks were flying across the road! Dirt began to lift off of the ground and whip us in our faces. The dirt clouds were so thick that it was difficult to see more than 15 feet in front of you. Residents ran for cover shouting ” A Tornado is coming, RUN!!!” It was truly an experience, I just pray that our efforts are aimed in the right way and we can reach as many people as possible. As crazy as that day was, it was rewarding to know that the residents appreciate our efforts. I strongly encourage anyone of faith to get involved in these efforts. Activism is essential in our deen and is integral in changing our image in this country. Message me if you have any ?s about Project Downtown or if you want to get involved ….
La ila ha illa anta subhanaka inni kuntu minazzalimeen….
There is a story shared by the Abrahamic traditions of a divenly inspired and guided man. Known by muslims as Yunus (aka. Dhan-Nun), Christians as Jonah, and Jews as Yunah, this man has a story that embodies the forgiving nature of God. Of the known descriptions of God, a vast number of them describe his forgiveness. To name a few; Al-Ghafoor (The most forgiving), Al’Afuw (The forgiver and restorer of honor after commiting sins), Al-Tawwab (The acceptor of repentance), Al-Haleem (The clement), Al-rahman and Al Raheem (The most merciful and compassionate). The story of this prophet is shared through the various Abrahamic traditions. Although the story is slightly different, it is a captivating one with a blisteringly strong message.
In the Qur’an, God tells us “Was there any community that believed after seeing the punishment, and its Faith at that moment, saved it from the punishment? (the answer is none)–except the people of Yunus; when they believed, We removed from them the torment of disgrace in the life of the present world, and permitted them to enjoy for a while.” (10:98 Quran)
Nineveh was a town full of idolators, we know that God has sent many messengers to communities such as these to send a clear message of tawhid or the oneness of God. Yunus was guided to deliver this message to the people of his town, Nineveh. As is the case with most prophets, once Yunus began delivering this message, the people of Nineveh slowly became infuriated. The people said something along the lines of “If what you say is true, then bring the punishment of your God, we have no fear of your threats!” Out of frustration, Yunus left Nineveh fearing that God was to deliver his punishment to the town and was hoping to escape the punishment. God said, “Remember Dhan Nun (Yunus), when he went off in anger, and imagined that We shall not punish him (the calamities which had befallen him)”! (21:87) Well, Yunus (peace be upon him) couldn’t have been more wrong. There is no escaping the punishment of God.
As he left Nineveh, frightening clouds overcame the town. As the clouds changed colors and began to look like fire, the people of Nineveh rembered the generations before them that were destroyed. Faith entered their hearts and they begged for God’s mercy. God forgives all, in this case even polytheists, which is the one unforgivable sin! The people were spared and showered with God’s mercy. They prayed to God and begged for Yunus to return and guide them to the straight path.
At this same time, Yunus (peace be upon him) was on a boat with some other men heading to another land. Thinking that he could avoid God’s punihsment, Yunus rode along on the boat. God commanded a whale to follow the boat. The people were frightened and decided to throw things off the boat to lose weight and outrun the whale. They drew lots (played a lottery system) and everytime Yunus was the one who lost. The men kept redrawing, for they did want to lose Yunus! Yunus put his faith in God and jumped into the ocean. He was swallowed by this whale. While in the belly of the whale, Yunus prostrated and prayed the following:
La ila ha illa anta subhanaka inni kuntu minazzalimeen (Ch. Al-Anbiya (21): vs. 87)
“None has the right to be worshipped save You (God);glory be to You (God), far removed are You (God) from any imperfection; I have been amongst the wrong-doers“
Tirmidhi records that anyone who is in distress and makes this supplication, has it answered immediately! 
The word “shams” (the sun) is feminine and the word “qamar” (the moon) is masculine. The sun burns itself out to give light and life to everything around, and the moon is muneer, meaning it reflects the light. Within itself the moon has no light; it radiates the brilliance of the sun. So when we shine as men, the implication is that we are reflecting the glorious light of our women. May Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’Alaa be pleased with them.”
-Shaikh Abdullah Adhami
Reflection: What I find most enlightening about this linguistic extrapolation is not the fact that it exists, but moreso that a Muslim man is expressing this. Alhamdulillah (All praises to God). It is so common for Muslim men to be portrayed as emotionless women oppressors. The fact is that this profound realization is inherent within Islam and it mirrors a code by which we live. A code of compassion, commitment, and admiration to our loved ones. I pray to Allah that we as Muslims begin to search into the depth and breadth of Islam rather than just focusing on one or the other. Islam is not a religion to me, it is so much more. It is a way of existing. This is something so unique to Islam and so utterly beautiful. I pray that one day non-muslims (specifically Americans) will have this view of Islam rather than the contrived image that the media portrays. Whether or not they themselves consciously submit entirely to God is their decision, but Islam is superb and those who veil Islam with misconceptions are indeed disservicing humanity.
