By I’m Muslim. I’m also from Nebraska. This sounds like it should be the punchline to a joke. My quest for mutual understanding in the reddest of the red states is often funny. Sometimes, it’s inspiring.
Newsflash of the century: Ramadan is coming up.
It’s my third Ramadan ever. Sometimes I feel like I’ve always been Muslim, but other times it feels like I’m still flailing around, trying to find my way. Thanks to the lunar calendar, I associate Ramadan with football, because it was Husker football time the first time I fasted. This ended up being perfect: that year, the night of Laylat ul Qadr was rumored to fall on a football night, and it was beautiful, under stadium lights and stars.
Being Nebraskan 101: “I don’t like football” is phrase you never utter, because either a) it’s a lie or b) you will learn to like it. Every other Saturday, fans pour in from all over the country to fill Memorial Stadium, which, at 80,000 seats, becomes the third largest city in Nebraska. Businesses close. The streets empty. Old people cast their walkers aside to become leaping, screaming fans.
Like everyone I know, my family has season tickets. I go mostly for the food. Funnel cakes, slushies, homemade ice cream, Runzas (beef or beans and cabbage in a bun), and Fairbury Franks (usually kosher beef! who knew?). So for that first Ramadan, football Saturday was absolute misery. Add hijab (red and white! gooooo Huskers!) in direct sunlight and no food, and I was not up to my usual football fan antics.
A few incredibly drunk grad students in the row behind me thought they could cheer me up by pulling me into a group hug. Not okay.
It didn’t help that the old man sitting next to me asked me if I wanted some popcorn, and then, five minutes later, why I wasn’t eating anything. I relish the opportunity to explain my faith to new people, but I grew up in an Episcopal family (no evangelizing whatsoever, no sir), and I’m hard-wired to think that conversations about religion with people who aren’t of your religion make things awkward or make people offended. So I tend to tread lightly.
“It’s Ramadan, sir,” I said.
“Is that Catholic? I don’t mean no disrespect, I’m just curious.”
I also try to explain Muslim holidays and customs in terms of Christianity. It makes things easier to understand, especially considering that most people I talk to about Islam are very relieved that I’m not worshiping “the war god”. Complication: people in Nebraska are very religious, but they’re either very Catholic or very Lutheran. Not much in between. For the Catholics: “it’s like Lent. For the Lutherans: “it’s like, um, fasting for surgery?”.
“Uh…well, I’m Muslim. And during Ramadan we don’t eat during the day. It’s kind of like a spiritual detox.”
“You’re a Muslim? I never met one of those.”
I shake his hand. Memories are made. He buys me a popsicle that I give to the drunk guys behind me.
Forward to next Ramadan. I get called into the school nurses’ office one morning–in the middle of an entertaining econ lecture. (Who knew!) For background, I have fibromyalgia, which is a condition that causes your nerves to misfire and weakens your immune system. Sometimes it sucks; most of the time, it’s NBD (no big deal.) At any rate, the school nurses are way more concerned about me than I am. I mean, there are girls at my school who truly need help–and in no way mean to demean their struggle–but no, they are never the ones called into the office. Always me. Such is my curse.
Nurse Nameless peers at me over her desk.
“Miss Judy in the cafeteria hasn’t seen you there for lunch in two weeks.”
This reminds me of the time I hurt my knee during volleyball in PE. After thoroughly icing and wrapping my joints, Nurse Nameless took me aside to “sensitively” ask me whether or not the stretchmarks on the inside of my legs were from “self mutilation”. (I was kind of ripped from playing football, ice hockey, basketball, and doing horse shows.) Being a freshman, zitty, and extremely self-conscious, I considered beginning self mutilation after being reminded “sensitively” about my freaky legs.
“Okay?”
“We’re worried about you, Samantha. Are things okay at home?”
“Ma’am, it’s Ramadan. I’m eating fine, just not at school.”
By my second Ramadan, I assume everyone at school knows that I’m Muslim. I am The White Muslim Chick. In a snooty, WASP-filled public school in the “nice” part of town, I’m kind of a big deal. So it always strikes me as odd and unsettling when someone doesn’t figure it out.
“Ramadan? But you’re–”
“I’m Muslim. I fast for Ramadan.”
She smiles. “I think your spiritual experimentation is beautiful.”
Condescending, sure, but I’m used to it. I still get those comments. It’s been three years, and I’m still a rebellious teenager. (I’m sure I’ll be 90, and I’ll mention to someone that I went to the masjid, and I’ll get a Knowing Look.)
Instead of sticking around to schedule a counselor appointment, I headed downstairs to loiter in the speech room–a safe haven, by any other name. My coach whirled around in his chair. If I didn’t know him so well, this would be terrifying–he’s a burly, grump-with-a-heart-of-gold champion calf-roper who owns a farm-and-ranch operation in Cass County. Think: retired cowboy.
Corn-fed eyebrow raised, he asks, “Cutting class?”
“Nah, I have the period off for a nurses’ appointment.”
A snort. “Cutting yourself again?”
“Nope.”
“Low self-esteem?”
“Wrong again–I’m anorexic.”
Another snort. “You? You eat more food than me, kid.”
“It’s Ramadan.”
He rummages through his desk and tosses something at me. A cupcake. He knows my sweet tooth–this is Shaitan coated in creamy chocolate frosting.
“Well. Let’s see how Muslim you really are.”
Great.
___
On a separate note: how do you girls prepare for Ramadan? Any advice for a third-timer?
He knows my sweet tooth– this is Shaitan coated in creamy chocolate frosting.
I literally burst out laughing at this. I feel you, girl! This was such an entertaining post to read, your personality really shines haha.
To prepare for Ramadan, I sometimes try to get myself used to fasting again by fasting every Monday and Thursday during the weeks leading up to Ramadan (I really hope I get into doing this year round insha’Allah!) It’s sunnah so it’s a good way to start getting back into the feel of things… and since while you’re fasting you pretty much have to control everything about your behavior (no cursing, temper tantrums, etc.) and do as many good deeds as possible, it gets you into the habit of being conscious about your actions. Here’s the hadith on this —
Abu Hurairah reported that the most the Prophet (SAW) would fast would be Monday and Thursday. He was asked about that and he said: “The actions are presented on every Monday and Thursday. Allah forgives every Muslim or every believer, except for those who are boycotting each other. He says [about them]: ‘Leave them.’ “
“I think your spiritual experimentation is beautiful.” I love it! It’s fabulous to hear from our sisters state side.
Ok advice, here goes, drink plenty of water at suhoor and Iftar, discuss lots about life the universe and everything and believe me the answer isn’t 42! And finally let other Muslims make a fuss of you and treat you like a superstar coz thats what you are. Mash’Allah
haha i love your post! I have gone through very similar things and laughing about it is my solution to:)
Salaam sister,
A few tips for the month of ramadhan are:
By praying atleast 1 para (chapter) every day so in 30 days insh’allah you would’ve prayed the whole Quran.
Another tip is that try to pray as many nafil (optional) prayer as you can insh’allah, because a nafil prayer is very rewarding at the month of ramadhan.
Subhan’allah there are sooo many virtues for praying in ramadhan so always try to keep your Tongue moist with the names of Allah and durood sharifs.
Salaam…..
Mahmoon