This Is What Happens When You Marry Outside of Your Nationality

It’s a little-known secret that Arab women don’t just marry Arab men, they marry within the same village as their family if they can, first. If they don’t, their husband will be considered as “Ghareeb” (strangers), even if the town they hail from is only 10 minutes away. (Disclaimer: Lots of women are stepping away from this tribal way of marriage. I happen to be one of those women.)
So, just imagine the reaction I received from my family when I said I am marrying an Indian.
I would love to say that they were open-minded about it, as mentioned before, some Arab families may not mind (as long as the guy is Muslim…or a doctor), but this wasn’t the case for me.
I don’t want to say all of my family were haters. Thankfully, my siblings were very supportive of the idea and loved him regardless, which gave me the courage to dial the number and call my aunt overseas.
My aunt’s approval was so important to me because she was the woman who raised me. She was also well respected within our family — so if she approved, everyone would eventually follow suit.
I remember that moment that I dialed her number. I heard the beat of my heart louder than I heard the phone ringing as I waited for her to pick up.  I remember after the typical “hellos” and “how are you’s?” how I felt and sounded as I told her about Assif. With a shakey voice I said, “A suitable, very nice MUSLIM man asked for my hand.”
Yes, Mentioning that he was Muslim was really important in hopes that it would be enough reason for her to be happy about it since I was living alone at that time.
I don’t know what I was thinking, because really…that didn’t change anything. Her first question was, “Which Hamola?” which meant “which family/tribe is he from?” She wanted to know if he was from our village.

My aunt’s approval was so important to me because she was the woman who raised me. She was also well respected within our family — so if she approved, everyone would eventually follow suit. 

“Not from our hometown,” I said.
“Which town?” She asked.
“Well…not from a town located in Palestine.”
“Is he Jordanian or Egyptian?” she asked.
“No, he is Indian. Muslim, though for me, though.”
*Click*
Did we just get disconnected? I called her back and I explained to her what a great man he is and that he comes from a great family, but all I heard was her crying on the other end, interrupted by one word every few seconds.
What word was it? “Ajnabi,” which was an even stronger word to expand on “Ghareeb.” It was more than stranger — it was foreign.
When my mother saw that feelings were starting to develop between Assif and me in college, she went out of her way to introduce to me to other guys. She tried to set me up with an Egyptian man once, hoping I’d like him more than my Indian love.
Here’s the strange thing. I am Palestinian. So, when my family couldn’t think of an eligible Palestinian available, they reluctantly ventured outside of our own nationality to Egypt — because Egypt was still Arab, at least. Because — apparently any Arab understands us better than a non-Arab, right?
The irony I found in this very tribal and exclusive mindset of Arab Muslims who prefer Arabs over non Arab Muslims is that they are often the same people advocating for issues such as Black Lives Matter, or Free Kashmir — while quoting Ghandi regarding justice and equality. The hypocrisy of it all is too much for me to take at times.
Fortunately, my aunt eventually came around and understood that the man I wanted was perfect for me. And she was right into finally coming around. More than a decade later, my husband and I are blessed with a beautiful life together with a child and a good home.

I wish I could say the same for other family members, though. Many of them cut relations with me. It took years for me to work at mending those severed ties — but that only came after time and opportunities to have actual conversations with him to know what a good man he was and is, regardless of his background.
I understand the importance of sharing the same religion, but beyond that, there shouldn’t be any restrictions regarding race or nationality — specifically when it comes to getting married.
What I’ve learned in life is that we have this hidden racism covered by chants of justice and equality to mask the shame of this “better than other people” attitude and belief.
How many of our Arab brothers and sisters marching at rallies for Black Lives Matter would be willing to allow their daughters to marry a Black Muslim? How many of you Arab Muslim mothers and fathers who are preaching pluralism among your friends and colleagues are open to your daughter bringing home a man from Pakistan to marry?

How many of our Arab brothers and sisters marching at rallies for Black Lives Matter would be willing to allow their daughters to marry a Black Muslim? How many of you Arab Muslim mothers and fathers who are preaching pluralism among your friends and colleagues are open to your daughter bringing home a man from Pakistan to marry?

Out of curiosity, are our Arab Muslim sons getting the same reactions and negative feedback from their parents if they bring home a non-Arab woman to marry? I already know the answer to that question: NO!
Racism is prohibited in Islam — but unfortunately, sometimes we confuse what’s culturally forbidden with what’s religiously prohibited or encouraged. It is important that in the Muslim community (mosques, marriages, friendship, etc.) that we disconnect from what’s culturally important to us and concentrate on what’s religiously important.
It is important for families to find suitable Muslim men or women for their kids, regardless of the background or countries.

It is important that in the Muslim community (mosques, marriages, friendship, etc.) that we disconnect from what’s culturally important to us and concentrate on what’s religiously important.

I don’t want anyone to dismiss someone’s color, background, culture, or language — as they are important part of shaping that person’s life. But that shouldn’t be the reason or the focus to not approve a marriage.
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Written by Ranna Abdeljawad