new Muslims – Page 2

Written by Theresa Corbin

Where did I leave off? Oh yes … So there I was, dying from vampire Lestat’s bite only to be reborn as eternal evil. Oh wait, that’s a different story.

Eh hem, so there I was, feeling like I had been lied to my whole life, trying to cling desperately to my culture and simultaneously trying to figure out what the truth really was. I was confused, embittered, and lost.

I believed in God, I just didn’t know what was the correct path to Him. I alternated between ignoring the question, flipping the question off, and seeking answers.

Now that I think about it, I had turned my culture into my new religion. To be the best worshiper at the altar of culture, I never wanted to miss a party, but wished I could just yell at all those kids and tell them to turn their racket down. I looked for answers in the holy books of Vogue and InStyle, but really wished I wouldn’t be considered a freak if I read and talked about Anna Karenina.

I was a hot mess, as the saying goes.

My culture was making me miserable. And my roommate was suffering most of its brunt. She spent much of her time studying other religions and talking to people of different faiths, allowing me to tag along from time to time. After much thought and deliberation, she converted to Islam.

I cannot say how she came to this decision. By this point, my mother had passed away, and I was busy with my grief and self-pity.

I had become a capital A-hole, challenging my newly Muslim roommate’s every move. I had all the cultural perceptions of Islam that can be expected. I don’t even know from where I picked them up. I knew nothing of the religion besides it being something that was “backwards” and tried to take women’s rights away from them. And I knew I was not down with that.

Our dorm room discussion became episode after episode of When Corbins (that’s me) Attack.

I accosted her when she decided to wear the headscarf. “Why do you wear that?” I asked as snide as I could be.

And she answered calmly and simply. “So, that I can be recognized as a believing woman. So that I can say who sees what of my body and am not a victim of the male gaze.”

I not only heard what she said, I saw it in action. I didn’t feel more liberate with less clothing. I felt picked apart and judged, and more often than not I felt like prey.

I longed for the respect that I saw my newly Muslim friend and other Muslim women receive from men as they wore their long and loose clothing. The thought of being in control over who would see me was very appealing.

“Yeah, but women are like second class citizens in your faith,” I spat on another occasion, trying to distance myself from my growing affection for Islam.

She explained that during a time when the Western world treated women like property, Islam taught that men and women were equal in the eyes of God. Islam brought more honor to the mother than the father. It made the woman’s consent to marriage mandatory, a practice that would have been laughed at in the Western world at the time.

Islam gave women the right to own property and businesses. And if a woman were to marry, she would not have to share her wealth with her husband. Islam gave women the right to inherit, unheard of in its day. She listed right after right that women in Islam held nearly 1250 years before women’s lib became a thing.

And these were just a fraction of the conversations we shared about Islam as a way of life. I continued to search. At some point, I thought about Judaism. It was the original monotheism. Since I wanted to get back to the original religion, this seemed logical to me.

When I voiced my Jewish aspirations to my roommate, we talked at length about the prophets of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. She explained to me the Islamic belief in all the prophets of Judaism, Christianity, and then the last prophet who came with the same message as all the rest–Muhammad (PBUH).

Prophet after prophet came until the last prophet Muhammad (PBUT) came with the same message to guide mankind back to the truth one last time. “And to this day his sayings can be verified in chains of narration and the Quran has not been changed by man.” She said.

When I heard, I believed. I had asked God when I was a seven year old in Catholic school and learning about prophet Noah (PBUH) if He should send any more prophets that He would guide me to believe in them. I believe that God granted me this mercy, because it was not until this conversation that it all clicked.

I became less angry about my friend’s new religion and began to listen about all the things she was learning as a Muslim. My next question was “What does it mean to be a Muslim?” I met other Muslim women and questioned them about their faith and read for myself.

What I found out was that in belief I was already a Muslim. I believed in the oneness of God. I believed in the prophets up to and including Muhammad. I believed in the angels, and Divine will, the day of judgement, the holy books, and all that jazz.

But—and this is a big but—I was scared to abandon my culture (turns out I didn’t have to abandon the good things from my culture). I was afraid of receiving the same ridicule I had dished out to my friend.

Islam made sense and even spoke to my nature. But I rebelled and the more I refused Islam and chose my culture over it the more miserable I became. I would find myself weeping for no other reason than the increasing emptiness I felt as I continued to reject Islam and replace it with culture. My health began to fail. I lost my scholarship at school. My personal safety was compromised. I even became homeless.

I defied until I couldn’t go on. I finally admitted, like the most homophobic person who finally comes out of the closet, that I was a Muslim. I finally said the words “I bear witness that there is no God worthy of worship but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is His slave and messenger” on the first day of Ramadan 2001.

And what I have learned since has taught me that I never had to give up my American culture entirely. I learned that fearing ridicule from people will only make you a joke. And I learned that their is an amazing peace that comes with being obedient to no one but the One God, the One who created you and designed you to do just that.

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Written by Theresa Corbin

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away—I changed my name to Mariam.

I only told those closest to me, thinking I would let them get used to it. Then, I thought, naturally more people would incorporate it as those closest to me addressed me as “Mariam”.

The best laid plans of mice and Mariams oft go … where is it they go again? Ah, yes, they go to that same place my “Mariam” name went. Those who knew me could not get used to my name change. I would try to ignore them until they addressed me by my new name, but when I failed to remember it myself, I gave up.

Oh well, what the hell, I guess I will be Theresa–I resigned myself.

What is in a name? Does a “Theresa” by any other name smell as … umm, err, … *coughs*. Does a “Theresa” by any other name behave any less Muslim? Does a “Theresa” by any other name pray any less regularly? No and no. InshAllah.

I was, as is common, wrapped up in the zeal of my newly Islamicized life. I had always liked my “Theresa” name. And I guess it was my tender affections toward “Theresa” that led to my apathy of enforcing “Mariam”.

Many new converts to Islam change their name, feeling that with a new direction in life they need a new name.

I agree with this only if the name-changer does the name changing for the following reasons.

Good reasons to change your name:

1. You hope to adopt the good qualities of the former bearer of that name.

Hurray: If you admire the original “Mariam”–when Anglicized it is pronounced Mary (MEh ree) the virgin mother of Jesus (peace be upon them)—and you wish to be more like that Mariam, then change it. My hope was for my new name “Mariam”, to be a reminder to strive for perfection, because Islamic tradition teaches that she was one of the few people to ever reach human perfection.

2. Your name means something that is incongruent with your Islamic beliefs.

Yup: Think about the meaning of your given name. If your name’s meaning is something un-Islamic, for example if your name is Christian, with its obvious meaning that you are Christian. Or if your name is Kafir, which mean disbeliever, by all means change your name.

But if your given name already has a good meaning, why not keep it? When I thought about what Theresa means (harvester). I decided it was pretty perfect for me. To me, this is a better reminder than to be perfect (because I am far, far, far from it). It is a reminder that I will harvest or reap what I sow, so I should sow only good things.

I disagree with this name changing craze if it is done for the following reasons.

Bad reasons to change your name:

1. You want to enhance your apparent Muslims identity by adopting an Arabic name.

An Arabic name does not enhance your Muslim identity, you can and should behave in Islamically through your actions. Besides, Arab does not equal Muslim.

2. You want to distance yourself from your old identity.

You should not shed your old identity. Just improve upon it. You will always be you. You are uniquely made up of your experiences, style, personality, and quirks. Embrace that and incorporate the endlessly beneficial teachings of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessing be upon him) into your life and manners.

But why not keep your name and make it a Muslim name. If your name is Bob and you are a Muslim. Then by the transitive property, Bob is now a Muslim name. Viola! You are breaking down barriers between the West and Islam. And that is pretty cool.

I enjoy the surprise that the disparity between my traditionally “Christian” name, and my obvious Muslim appearance provides. People get all kinds of confused when they learn my name or see me for the first time in a headscarf. It is fun to watch.

Now, after bearing the name Theresa, wearing the headscarf, and presenting myself as a Muslim since 2001, Theresa is a Muslim name. And your name can be too!