This Summer, I was blessed to be able to spend 5 weeks in Egypt with my family. We were excited before going because, as most of the world knows, the Egyptian people were able to overthrow their dictator, through peaceful demonstrations and determination. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous, because I had heard that the police only recently began to appear on the streets and the new government had very little real power. Essentially, Egypt was just starting to crawl toward its dream of freedom and democracy, which moving forward, could mean some instability. To keep it simple, my family fell in love with the Egyptian people. We were met with smiles everywhere. Despite the poverty and bureaucratic challenges, the Egyptian people have hope in their eyes. It was a beautiful thing to see. I wish the same for the people of Syria.
As Muslim Americans, we are often a bit of an enigma to Muslims around the world. The meet us and we tell them we are Muslim, but its almost as if they don't believe it, because we're SO American. It wasn't until our taxi driver Mohammad, saw us praying in the mosque that it finally clicked. He became especially gracious to us, recognizing that it can be difficult to preserve your faith as a minority in America. Although we enjoyed our stay, the heat and the pollution of Cairo can be a challenge, and our departure was bitter sweet. We were looking forward to coming home.
We are in the last ten days of Ramadan, which are considered to be especially blessed. So, as I did in Cairo, I broke my fast with my family, prayed with my family, drank tea, and freshened up to head to the mosque for prayers. I was very much looking forward to the taraweeh (night prayer) tonight because it was the first one I would be able to attend in Chicago, after battling with jet lag the last two nights. I parked my car and walked up to the mosque to notice that someone was holding the door open. My first thought was that this was very kind of him, but then I quickly noticed that it was a security guard. I took a deep breath and greeted him and walked in to get in line for prayer. As I stood there with a knot in my throat, I was confused at what I should feel. I have to admit that anger was the first feeling. You see, I'm assuming the mosque had to hire this security guard because of the recent acts of terrorism against mosques in the Chicago area. One mosque had some sort of acid bomb thrown at it, and another was shot at. So this was my welcome home... watch your back, because if you look like a Muslim, you might be in danger. It doesn't matter if three of my four grandparents were born here. It doesn't matter if I played football and baseball growing up, or that I make a living trying to mend families and marriages, and trying keep teenagers off drugs. It doesn't matter, because the people who have hate in their hearts only act based upon what they see externally.
I expect better from you America. As I and many of my Muslim friends continue to work toward the realization of a dream of our forefathers; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, I pray that we continue to strive for these pursuits rather than the pursuit of each other, regardless of the political climate. And as I finished my prayer, I realized the sad truth that although Egypt needs my prayers for its future, America needs my prayers as well.
As Muslim Americans, we are often a bit of an enigma to Muslims around the world. The meet us and we tell them we are Muslim, but its almost as if they don't believe it, because we're SO American. It wasn't until our taxi driver Mohammad, saw us praying in the mosque that it finally clicked. He became especially gracious to us, recognizing that it can be difficult to preserve your faith as a minority in America. Although we enjoyed our stay, the heat and the pollution of Cairo can be a challenge, and our departure was bitter sweet. We were looking forward to coming home.
We are in the last ten days of Ramadan, which are considered to be especially blessed. So, as I did in Cairo, I broke my fast with my family, prayed with my family, drank tea, and freshened up to head to the mosque for prayers. I was very much looking forward to the taraweeh (night prayer) tonight because it was the first one I would be able to attend in Chicago, after battling with jet lag the last two nights. I parked my car and walked up to the mosque to notice that someone was holding the door open. My first thought was that this was very kind of him, but then I quickly noticed that it was a security guard. I took a deep breath and greeted him and walked in to get in line for prayer. As I stood there with a knot in my throat, I was confused at what I should feel. I have to admit that anger was the first feeling. You see, I'm assuming the mosque had to hire this security guard because of the recent acts of terrorism against mosques in the Chicago area. One mosque had some sort of acid bomb thrown at it, and another was shot at. So this was my welcome home... watch your back, because if you look like a Muslim, you might be in danger. It doesn't matter if three of my four grandparents were born here. It doesn't matter if I played football and baseball growing up, or that I make a living trying to mend families and marriages, and trying keep teenagers off drugs. It doesn't matter, because the people who have hate in their hearts only act based upon what they see externally.
I expect better from you America. As I and many of my Muslim friends continue to work toward the realization of a dream of our forefathers; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, I pray that we continue to strive for these pursuits rather than the pursuit of each other, regardless of the political climate. And as I finished my prayer, I realized the sad truth that although Egypt needs my prayers for its future, America needs my prayers as well.
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