I couldn't understand the equation.
So against my father's wishes opened the pages of a book.
I read the Quran front to back twice in the two months before Ramadan and still didn't partake because I didn't feel worthy somehow.
My mother bought me foods that were halal.
I covered to my ankles and wrists to dress modestly.
My dad questioned my every move because I'm not Muslim.
I told him; "Daddy I cannot hold my ignorance like you. I know you don't want to listen but here, let me teach you."
I am not a quarter of the way through my journey of understanding and the questions I get are alarmingly condescending.
"Why would a strong girl choose a life of oppression?"
But I ask; Who's oppressed if I choose?
If I feel enlightened by what I read and I elect to obey it;
Who's to say I'm a lesser being?
When I pray before the sun awakes I fill with a sense knowing.
As if watching the colors paint the sky is Allah greeting me every morning.
I called this journey of mine 'Muslim for a Year' but I don't know when I'll be done searching.
One thing is for sure -
A fact in my mind -
That I can't understand how, with all the information we can touch today, we can possibly have another hate filled tomorrow.