The trials and tribulations of an American hijabi

My Jezebel friend Effie definitely helped me out with this one, so she gets co-server credit!

What, another post about Muslim women wearing hijab? I've already talked about it here, here, here, and most heart-wrenchingly (trust me, my heart was wrenched as I wrote it), here.

I've talked about my problems with loved ones not being able to come to terms with my hijab (which I believe has since happened, as there haven't been any more confrontations or talk about it from either of us), about how special and secure and comfortable hijab makes me feel, about how it's helped me to spread awareness about Islam, about how people automatically think I'm not American because of it, and about how I love that hijab makes me visibly Muslim.

But there's another side to this, a far more frustrating side, and that's what I want to discuss candidly here: how difficult it is to be a visibly Muslim woman in America.

Celebrating non-Eid holidays as a Muslim.

Holidays, ranging from one's birthday to Christmas, is something that converts tend to have issues with. Do we celebrate them or not? Are they forbidden or not? Is the secular celebration of Christmas, the warmth of family and friends in the cold of winter (or heat, if you're in the southern hemisphere, I suppose), the loving exchange of gifts, something to be avoided simply because it isn't one of our celebrations? Simply because of what it means to some people, when almost every American, regardless of their religious beliefs, celebrates this holiday?

Why I don't care about people depicting Muhammad (pbuh) in pictures.

Throughout the past few years, there have been numerous examples of people depicting the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) in artwork, be it Danish cartoons, International Draw Muhammad Day, or South Park --- which, ironically, portrayed him as part of a group of superhero-esque prophets, and not negatively.

Simply put: The Muhammad that's depicted in vile cartoons, showing him with a bomb in his turban, or as a pig, etc., the Muhammad that was depicted during International Draw Muhammad Day, isn't my Muhammad.

My Prophet didn't kill for pleasure or gain; he went to war because he was attacked, his people oppressed.  My Muhammad didn't call for the killing of innocent lives; he expressly forbade it.  My Muhammad wasn't a paedophile, either.

Ramadan, Eid, and September 11th.

Here's a bit of a history, religious, and cultural lesson for everyone who's not Muslim.

There are two basic calendars that humans go by.  One is the solar calendar, which marks the days, months, and years by the sun.  This is the one that the Gregorian calendar, the calendar that most Western countries go by, is based on.

The second major calendar is the lunar calendar.  This tracks the months and seasons by the moon.  The timing is different that the solar calendar, because the moon goes through a steady 28-day cycle, whereas the solar calendar, or at least the Gregorian version of it, divides the months of the year into 30- or 31-day months, with one 28-day month, for 365 days, except for every four years, when February has 29 days ... It's kinda a mess, actually, and the days aren't even 24 hours long; hence the leap year, and leap second.  Therefor, in an entirely lunar calendar (which is what Islam uses), the months drift by about 11-12 days each year, and rotate back about every 33 lunar years.

The most widely used lunar calendar is really a mix of the lunar and solar calendars, with months put in to bridge the gap between the lunar and solar years.

All right, now that we know all of this, let's talk about the Islamic calendar and how it's used to celebrate holidays.

Happy Ramadan!

It's the first day of Ramadan ... and I'm on prayer break.

Oi vey.

However, it appears that I'll be able to start fasting tomorrow!  Huzzah!  Thank You, God!  Missing one day is better than two days, and at least it's at the beginning of Ramadan, so I don't have to stop fasting, then start again.

Somehow I scratched under my thumbnail.  It's kinda infected.  I think it's going to rot and fall off.  Hmmm.  Maybe they'll give me a robotic thumb?  I can think of uses for it ... And at least it's my right thumb, not my left.  LEFTIES RULE!  If we can figure out which direction we're going.  O_o

But seriously, I'm mildly concerned that my thumb's going to start rotting.  I'm sure that it's just blood under my nail that I'm sing, but still.

OH GOD!  That would mean that God WANTS my thumb to rot off during my first Ramadan!  O_O

Squeezing it hurts.  Please don't ask why I squeezed my thumb.  Just ... don't.  Don't ask, and I won't have to tell you that I'm an idiot.

I'm going to write about how the crazy right-wing ultra-religious nutcases are trying to ban Muslims and Islam from the Land of Religious Equality and Tolerance, but first, a moment of silence in thanks for me not experiencing all that hatred firsthand.

...

Thank You, God.

The West is not the Devil, and most Muslims don't think that. So shut up.

I was born in the United States; Ogden, Utah, to be precise.  My mother was born in Utah.  Her parents were born in Utah.  My father and his family were born and raised in Humboldt County, in Northern California.  The earliest evidence of my family being in the US is that I know that my Dad's side got here during the mid-1800's; I do know that I'm related to both Confederate General and President Taylor.  My ancestry is German, French, English mutt, and maybe a bit Swiss.  I'm as Caucasian as they get.

I was raised in the small Northern Californian town of Fortuna.  Except for living in Sacramento for 7th, half of 8th, and all of 9th grade, I lived in Fortuna until I graduated high school.  Fortuna is small, and boring --- dear God, is it boring.  The nearest entertainment, if it could be called that, is in Eureka, a 20-minute car drive up Highway 101 (yes, the Eureka that's on California's state seal).  Yeah, we have a theatre in Fortuna.  It had one whole screen until about ten years ago, maybe a little earlier.  Then it got a whopping three screens.  We got our fourth traffic light no later than 2001, the year before I graduated high school.