Skip to main content

What do I do with it?

I just watched the movie/ documentary "A Prince Among Slaves".

I am thinking a lot of things but the chief among them is the thought or idea of all the Muslims who came before me in this country to make it possible for me to breathe free and hold my head up high now as a person who wasn't born here and has no connection to this land. A foreigner. An immigrant. A person who left her roots and settled halfway across the world in a place where no one knew of her existence before they met her. Here, she has found love, hospitality, generosity, a place in hearts and minds, a place to breathe, spread her wings and broaden her horizons, mental and physical.

None of this was my right. None of it a God-given right in the land where I was born. For my son, perhaps. But for me, no. For I was not born here. I did not come here of my own accord. And I did not adopt this land as mine of my complete unadulterated free will. Who I am, where I am from and to where and whom I belong is a separate story, but 'it', for sure, is not 'here'. This is where, at this point in my story, and this land's story, I am. For here and for now, it belongs to me and I belong to it. But in the entirety of my being, I am many places, many souls, many stories.

And now I wonder, why I ended up having the privilege of benefiting from the sacrifices and labors of those who plowed this land before me, so when I arrived, it was fertile for me. Perhaps, the question I really want to ask, is not 'why'. As the movie described the people of faith, they always end up finding faith, no matter how obscure, in Divine wisdom. And whoever I am, I am a person of faith. I think the question I am grappling with is 'what do I do with this?' - this might, privilege, burden, honor, debt, responsibility that has been placed on my shoulders, what do I do with it? and how?

That is what I sit with tonight, as I bid the world good night.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Anas

  I run outside my breath, a gasp. My feet stop, in shock. The moon is full tonight. A breeze slides over my skin. The tide… still crashes on the shore. I try to breathe. I can’t. How has the time not stopped… tonight? I go to the sea. We sit. We wonder. We reminisce. We wonder how many school lunches they spent to fell… a man of his might. The sea takes me in her arms, whispers words of comfort just as meaningless tonight as they have been, for years. He was a man I never met, but with all the pride, and ferocity, of a sister I call him my brother. He was a man I mourn tonight, as the sea’s waves lap at my feet. Blanketed by the dark, there is no one around. I wish I could drown, that the sea will swallow me whole. I feel helpless. The weight of the world… is heavy tonight. I give charity in his name. I pray for him. I hold him in my heart. Every tear that falls from my eyes carries his name, like a cherished pearl. Morning takes me by surprise. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Old Pictures

  Photo by Josef Maxson on Unsplash They ask to see old photos. I show them. After all, that’s why I kept them: to give my children a sense of their history. Just four more days, then I won’t see them for eighteen. I won’t hold them close or smell the unique fragrances of their heads. They ask for one more, after I say, “The end.” I indulge. I snuggle a little closer. But every picture, as I describe what it is, where it was taken, and the story behind it, takes a toll on me. My breath catches. My heart races. My mouth grows drier by the minute. The nerves in my hands are firing full force. I keep going, until I truly can’t breathe anymore. I say, “Just one more. That’s it.” We stop. I smile and tell them to head upstairs, fighting hard to keep the tremor out of my voice. I hug myself as they run upstairs, trying to catch each other. Then, I hear a whisper: “That was fun, right? Looking at all those pictures?” My heart stops, unknowing. We traverse new territory every d...
Post a Comment
Read more

Mouse King

 I miss Busboys and poets. I miss Community forklift. I miss watching local theater plays at the Silver Spring theater. Except I was no more lost now than I was then. That sentence sounds ominous. I am almost 31 weeks pregnant. Or perhaps 32 based on what the measurements were at my last exam. I finally had an exam after months. Yesterday was the glucose test. Weeks after it was supposed to be. Supposed to be's, should be's, could've been...yada yada yada. I miss DC. Home of my heart. I even miss Maryland. I miss me. The carefree me. I mean, I wouldn't describe life before marriage to be that, but there was a glow in the days before I tethered myself to a man, supposedly for life. Life. Married for life. That's what I thought I was. Guess I thought wrong.  I don't miss it. Or him. Alhumdulillah that's a blessing. I don't think I never will. I am afraid it'll hit me in one large wave once the nastiness of this divorce is over. Like a complete washout....
Post a Comment
Read more