Sabrtheseer
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Peace and Blessings,
I am an African American Muslim woman in crisis. Not a physical crisis, but a deep-seeded crisis of Iman that has existed in my heart for as long as I can recall.
My my parents are both Muslim, coming from Muslim parents who accepted the rhetoric of Islam through the Nation of Islam, and then went on to accept the tenements of Sunni Islam through there devotion and faith, birthing 6 generations of Muslim children and grandchildren. The beliefs and practices of Islam were present, but as with all of humanity, the tests of Shaytaan in a culture filled with greed, sex, and lies permeated into our homes. Our patriarch was a great visionary, pathing the way for hundreds of African American Muslim families to find there way out of Black Nationalism and into the Masajid, but he was also as a man who spent his nights with other women, professionally schemed, and was dishonest with money. Like my family, being black in America was met with degradation and most people acted like animals to survive. These families were delegated to the bottom of society, never embracing there ability to use their relationship with God, as well as their minds and hearts to change their fate... Imprisoned to their own fear.
I am the second generation of 6 generations of African American Muslim children that my family has produced, I’m 25...and I am chronically heavy hearted while unbearably prideful. My parents married and conceived me lawfully, so in my childish mind I guess that should’ve meant that the love they felt for eachother under the protection of Allah should be unbreakable. That’s not how it happened. They split unamicablly, and I was the result. This baby whom was the by- product of two broken Muslim hearts. My mother was filled with anger, but her heart always belonged to Allah. I would watch her cry as she would read Quran to us after Fajr and know that in that moment, no matter who I thought her to be, she was her truest self. My father, wounded and broken hearted, wandered through life until a Sufi Sheik found him and brought him back into the fold of Islam. I waited for Allah to bring my family back together, to heal our bond. He never did. So I got angry. And bitter. And deceitful, because I couldn’t be honest about how I truly felt without being met with reminders to turn to Allah, He will Remove all pain...and that did not reflect in my life at the times that I needed it to. I carried that energy into my decisions, attempting to find solace in Quran and Sunnah, but the actions of the people I loved consistently making me question the validity of it all. And one day I gave in.
I had been secretly living a life of manipulation, sex, deception, and rage for years, like a lot of Muslims, and I got tired of feeling like I was not being my true self, the part of me that drew comfort from Shaytaans bids and wanted to live within the veil of the illusion, completely forgetting and ignoring the part of me that loved Allah more than my own life...but not embracing him through the good and bad times. I misguided myself. I was wrong.
At times, I feel Muslims blame Shaytaan for their actions, not taking responsibility for the tempted, not temptation, inside of each of us that causes our own demise. Shaytaan works by Allahs will, just as everything else in the universe, so it is our own inability to find peace in our hearts that leads to our lack of faith. Most “devout” Muslims claim themselves not to be of the people who have turned away from Allah, but I know the darkness, temptation, pain, and confusion they face and it looks no different than my own, raised in Islam...but still WORLDY. We have been fed a rhetoric that there are people that will be used to tempt us into Shaytaans bidding, and I think that’s an ancient cop-out that’s perpetuated a victim rhetoric and created a lack of accountability, forgiveness, mercy, and unconditional love. I burned the bridges, even if Shaytaan handed me the flame...and now it is time to rebuild those bridges. I turned away from Islam because after a certain point I didn’t feel worthy of Allah’s forgiveness, or that I was even truly receiving it. Truth is I couldn’t forgive myself, so I was unable to feel God’s grace.
I come to this thread today having found myself in another unlawful reality that Allah has blessed me with the eyes to see and rectify, having reached out to my Abu with the intention of re-taking my Shahadah and returning into the folds of Islam. I am still scared, confused, tired, and human...but I know the answers to my trials starts in the heart. Both of my parents were lead to Islam and the lead to each other, and then to me...and I’m tired of questioning the events that happened after the fact. They were the Qudr of Allah. I miss my lord, worshiping him in my flawed way. My heart is softening to knowing Allah has never forsaken me, but this was decreed for me, and I will find Sabr from the storms.
Shukran for reading this long testimony, and if anyone has any advice, insights, resonance, or Hadith that they feel could shed light on my experiences, please feel free to respond, I just needed to release this message at this time. My experiences are mine alone, but I hope they help other Muslims struggling with their shadow selves, Insha’ Allah. Masalaam.
I am an African American Muslim woman in crisis. Not a physical crisis, but a deep-seeded crisis of Iman that has existed in my heart for as long as I can recall.
My my parents are both Muslim, coming from Muslim parents who accepted the rhetoric of Islam through the Nation of Islam, and then went on to accept the tenements of Sunni Islam through there devotion and faith, birthing 6 generations of Muslim children and grandchildren. The beliefs and practices of Islam were present, but as with all of humanity, the tests of Shaytaan in a culture filled with greed, sex, and lies permeated into our homes. Our patriarch was a great visionary, pathing the way for hundreds of African American Muslim families to find there way out of Black Nationalism and into the Masajid, but he was also as a man who spent his nights with other women, professionally schemed, and was dishonest with money. Like my family, being black in America was met with degradation and most people acted like animals to survive. These families were delegated to the bottom of society, never embracing there ability to use their relationship with God, as well as their minds and hearts to change their fate... Imprisoned to their own fear.
I am the second generation of 6 generations of African American Muslim children that my family has produced, I’m 25...and I am chronically heavy hearted while unbearably prideful. My parents married and conceived me lawfully, so in my childish mind I guess that should’ve meant that the love they felt for eachother under the protection of Allah should be unbreakable. That’s not how it happened. They split unamicablly, and I was the result. This baby whom was the by- product of two broken Muslim hearts. My mother was filled with anger, but her heart always belonged to Allah. I would watch her cry as she would read Quran to us after Fajr and know that in that moment, no matter who I thought her to be, she was her truest self. My father, wounded and broken hearted, wandered through life until a Sufi Sheik found him and brought him back into the fold of Islam. I waited for Allah to bring my family back together, to heal our bond. He never did. So I got angry. And bitter. And deceitful, because I couldn’t be honest about how I truly felt without being met with reminders to turn to Allah, He will Remove all pain...and that did not reflect in my life at the times that I needed it to. I carried that energy into my decisions, attempting to find solace in Quran and Sunnah, but the actions of the people I loved consistently making me question the validity of it all. And one day I gave in.
I had been secretly living a life of manipulation, sex, deception, and rage for years, like a lot of Muslims, and I got tired of feeling like I was not being my true self, the part of me that drew comfort from Shaytaans bids and wanted to live within the veil of the illusion, completely forgetting and ignoring the part of me that loved Allah more than my own life...but not embracing him through the good and bad times. I misguided myself. I was wrong.
At times, I feel Muslims blame Shaytaan for their actions, not taking responsibility for the tempted, not temptation, inside of each of us that causes our own demise. Shaytaan works by Allahs will, just as everything else in the universe, so it is our own inability to find peace in our hearts that leads to our lack of faith. Most “devout” Muslims claim themselves not to be of the people who have turned away from Allah, but I know the darkness, temptation, pain, and confusion they face and it looks no different than my own, raised in Islam...but still WORLDY. We have been fed a rhetoric that there are people that will be used to tempt us into Shaytaans bidding, and I think that’s an ancient cop-out that’s perpetuated a victim rhetoric and created a lack of accountability, forgiveness, mercy, and unconditional love. I burned the bridges, even if Shaytaan handed me the flame...and now it is time to rebuild those bridges. I turned away from Islam because after a certain point I didn’t feel worthy of Allah’s forgiveness, or that I was even truly receiving it. Truth is I couldn’t forgive myself, so I was unable to feel God’s grace.
I come to this thread today having found myself in another unlawful reality that Allah has blessed me with the eyes to see and rectify, having reached out to my Abu with the intention of re-taking my Shahadah and returning into the folds of Islam. I am still scared, confused, tired, and human...but I know the answers to my trials starts in the heart. Both of my parents were lead to Islam and the lead to each other, and then to me...and I’m tired of questioning the events that happened after the fact. They were the Qudr of Allah. I miss my lord, worshiping him in my flawed way. My heart is softening to knowing Allah has never forsaken me, but this was decreed for me, and I will find Sabr from the storms.
Shukran for reading this long testimony, and if anyone has any advice, insights, resonance, or Hadith that they feel could shed light on my experiences, please feel free to respond, I just needed to release this message at this time. My experiences are mine alone, but I hope they help other Muslims struggling with their shadow selves, Insha’ Allah. Masalaam.