Dear unknown reader,
Assalamu Aleikom wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatu
I am here to tell you my story, a story which may be similar to many, interesting to some, perhaps ( but hopefully not) boring to others.
My story is about love.
No, it’s not what you think. It doesn’t involve kissing and hugging, but it does involve marriage, but again, not in the way you think.
My story is about how I fell in love, how I fell in love with Islam, and how I decided to commit to it for life. Like any marriage this was a beautiful yet complicated decision with many consequences , which I plan on describing ahead. This is the story of how I went back to my roots and became a Muslim.
I’ll begin by introducing myself, my name is Paula and I am legally Chilean, but I like to think I belong everywhere. Since I can remember I’ve been dragged from country to country, from friend to friend and from culture to culture. I tell you this because it may help understand the situation better, especially if by now you are wondering how on earth a girl from Chile came about Islam. The first time I heard about Arabs and Islam was during my time in an international school in Tokyo, Japan. It was around 1998, and there were a couple of Muslim girls at our Catholic school. I noticed that they all wore much longer skirts to school than the rest of us.
That’s it. That and that they didn’t attend mass with us was all I knew about Islam. A few years later, I developed a strange fascination with the Middle East. I don’t know whether it was Shakira’s song “Ojos Asi”, a famous Brazilian novella called “O Clone” or simply because of this popular wave of Arabic music that rushed through south America, with songs by Amr Diab, Hussam Habib, Hisham Abbas, but I became incredibly interested in everything Arab-related—belly dancing, clothing, patterns, art. I somehow felt I belonged to this culture, even began to imagine that maybe I was Arab in a past life! Perhaps it was Allah preparing me for what was to come?
Seven years later, I found myself living in Amman, Jordan, surrounded by Arabs and Muslims. It was a complete and utter cultural shock. Not because things were so different from my homeland, but because they weren’t. You see, before I landed in Amman I was told that women never showed their bodies or wore tight clothing. Wrong. Yes I was impressed with women covered from top to bottom with long coats and head scarves, but never as impressed as with how much cleavage I saw and how tight their pants were. Also, it shocked me that many of my Muslim friends and acquaintances drank alcohol. Needless to say is, my view on Islam wasn’t at its best; I felt it created hypocrites and its many restrictions contributed to girls taking off their hijabs and lying to their parents about going out with boys.
During this time I also had the honor and privilege of visiting Syria, where I saw firsthand beautiful Islamic art, Jerusalem where I entered the Islamic quarters and saw with my own eyes the astounding Al Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock. Finally, I was lucky enough to be accepted in The American University in Cairo, where my feelings towards all things Arab became even stronger. And this is where it all began, because from here on my life changed drastically. During my last year at AUC I met my best friend and the love of my life. I would normally not share it this way but his influence is important and you’ll see why, just keep reading, it gets good, I promise.
Sadly, I wasn’t able to stay on in Cairo, and I had to move back to Chile to finish my studies. But I still kept in touch with my special friend. As time passed in our relationship I began to feel very odd. I can’t remember exactly why or when I began to study about Islam but somehow I did, and strangely I liked it. I say strangely because I’ve never been a religious person. Brought up catholic but always identified more as an agnostic. I knew there was something, I felt there was something bigger and grander, I just couldn’t quite know what it was, was it God? If so what God was it? During my childhood my parents never forced Catholicism too hard because they wanted me to find my own way; little did they know that I’d be falling in love with Islam.
It was exactly as love should be: I was slowly and deeply becoming more interested in Islam, I couldn´t get it off my mind, my heart was beginning to fill up with ideas, and all empty spaces were becoming complete. Islamic art, with its geometric precision and mesmerizing symmetry, is the most perfect sort of art that could ever exist. Quranic recitations made me tear up. I did not understand how this was happening or why, I wanted to make sure it was because of a bigger reason and not because my Muslim boyfriend told me our relationship wasn’t going to work out because of our cultural and spiritual differences.. I had already informed him repeatedly that there was no way on earth I was going to become a Muslim.
Astighfirallah.
I decided to let the feeling develop on its own and not fight it; wherever it may flow and lead me I was ready to go. I also decided it was time to stop being alone and scared about what was going on and to tell someone. The first person I told was a random Tumblr user through an anonymous message. That didn’t help much. I didn’t tell my boyfriend first, because I didn’t know how he would take it. Would he support me? Would he push me? Would he help? When I finally decided to let him know, he reacted exactly as he should have: he didn’t push, he answered my questions, and then left me to discover my path on my own. I did not tell my family until my mom saw me get two copies of the Quran delivered by mail from the States, thanks to a friend I had confided in. Mom was, of course, not too happy.
I began reading parts of the Quran and then asking my boyfriend to teach me how to pray. I began praying and asking Allah to help me with my disapproving family and to guide me to find help. To my surprise the next day I very randomly met the President of an NGO for Muslim women in Chile. She was Chilean and happened to be married to an Egyptian, herself. She also happened to be meeting with other converts and Muslim women at home and invited me. Subhanallah This little episode changed my whole view on the closeness of Allah, and I was sure It was written that I should be Muslim.
Meeting other converts only made me more certain that this was the case. Seeing the love they had for Islam and for Allah was extremely beautiful. Something I had never witnessed in the Middle East. Converting, however, wasn’t quite as easy. The women, while they may have had good intentions, were very pushy about me converting. Many doubted my intentions, some judged me for having a boyfriend and others for not wearing a hijab or for doing my eyebrows, and to top it all, even though it was my first Ramadan fasting completely, I was told by a Palestinian woman that what I was doing wasn’t worth anything, that I was only hurting myself, and that to Allah it wasn’t important because I wasn’t Muslim yet. My heart was broken.
Finally, on the 23rd of Ramadan 1434 Hejira (so last year, 2013), I decided to convert. I called my mom to let her know at Maghreb, and after lots of crying because of her disapproval and harsh words, I converted before taraweeh.
AND IT ROCKED.
I walked into the Sheikh’s office with about six people, received a short lecture from the Sheikh, said my shahada as proudly and as beautifully as I could, held my new Quran and let out a happy cry and a sigh. I was hugged by all the women around me and congratulated on my super new clean awesome life as a fellow Muslim. I called my boyfriend and I’ve never received such beautiful words from him. Hamdulillah, I am truly, truly blessed.
I wish happiness like this upon everyone who reads this. Since that day, I have only been learning and becoming closer to Allah. Yes, it’s been difficult, especially getting the habit or finding the time to pray five times a day, every single day. My heart has grown fuller of love, and I came to understand that it is not Islam that drives people away; I can see clearly how its brought people like me into it, and managed to transform atheists and agnostics and even diehard Catholics because of its beauty, truth and humanity. It is society that doesn’t know how to deal with this beautiful gift from God and it is society that drives away Muslims with the help of Shaytan.
I’ve been blessed enough to have met beautiful people and I’ve been helped and motivated by people who love Allah and who love Islam, very kind people who have not judged and have been there for me no matter what. I'm also blessed hamdulillah to have an amazing family who has gotten used to my life choices and beliefs (as difficult as it was) and are little by little being more supportive and encouraging. Because of them, I’ve been aiming to become a better person, a better friend, a better daughter and sister, a better future wife and mother to my future Muslim children Inshallah.
And finally a few words more, dear fellow Muslim, who graciously took the time to read my long narrative.
Please appreciate what you have.
I was recently told by a Muslim friend of mine that she envied converts because entering Islam was our choice and we weren’t forced by anyone into it, we weren’t forced to wear hijabs, or to pray. It was our decision and no one else’s. I replied that converts envy born Arab Muslims. Why? Because you have it so easy and you don’t even know it. When you were born the shahada was whispered in your ear, you were born as part of the Ummah, and most importantly you have known about Allah even before you knew it, unlike us who found Him and worshipped Him later on in life. When you were little, you watched your parents pray and you learnt by example. We learnt step by step and made mistakes in front of other Muslims, losing track of our movements, often feeling like failures. At school you learnt about Islam and you took Arabic lessons and learnt your Arabic language, even if it’s not the same as classical Quranic Arabic, it’s a lot closer than Spanish or English. It is incredibly hard learning a language when you’re older; Arabic is especially harder if you want to say a surah right, and most importantly be able to say Allah’s name perfectly, like He deserves. You are surrounded by Islam in every way, every day, you hear the athan five times a day, calling you to pray, while we have to rely on our phones and memory.
You don’t have to worry about eating anything haram, while we have to search for halal certified meats, and constantly check out sauces for pork, our burgers for bacon, and our desserts for alcohol, to name a few. Even though discrimination exists for, you will never know how difficult it is to explain to a friend or a male stranger why you suddenly can’t say hello to a man with a kiss on the cheek, and you will never, thank God, watch the pain, disappointment, confusion in your family’s eyes when you let them know you have become Muslim. It’s beyond heartbreaking. You, my friend, are very blessed so please, embrace your beautiful religion, especially in this month of Ramadan or the days that are left, because somewhere in the world there is a sister or a brother struggling with their faith, and their family, with themself and with their future, who wishes they were born and raised like you. And for those of you who converted and are troubling, trust in Allah and have patience, things will get better and things will happen when they are meant to.
Assalamu Aleikom wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatu
I am here to tell you my story, a story which may be similar to many, interesting to some, perhaps ( but hopefully not) boring to others.
My story is about love.
No, it’s not what you think. It doesn’t involve kissing and hugging, but it does involve marriage, but again, not in the way you think.
My story is about how I fell in love, how I fell in love with Islam, and how I decided to commit to it for life. Like any marriage this was a beautiful yet complicated decision with many consequences , which I plan on describing ahead. This is the story of how I went back to my roots and became a Muslim.
I’ll begin by introducing myself, my name is Paula and I am legally Chilean, but I like to think I belong everywhere. Since I can remember I’ve been dragged from country to country, from friend to friend and from culture to culture. I tell you this because it may help understand the situation better, especially if by now you are wondering how on earth a girl from Chile came about Islam. The first time I heard about Arabs and Islam was during my time in an international school in Tokyo, Japan. It was around 1998, and there were a couple of Muslim girls at our Catholic school. I noticed that they all wore much longer skirts to school than the rest of us.
That’s it. That and that they didn’t attend mass with us was all I knew about Islam. A few years later, I developed a strange fascination with the Middle East. I don’t know whether it was Shakira’s song “Ojos Asi”, a famous Brazilian novella called “O Clone” or simply because of this popular wave of Arabic music that rushed through south America, with songs by Amr Diab, Hussam Habib, Hisham Abbas, but I became incredibly interested in everything Arab-related—belly dancing, clothing, patterns, art. I somehow felt I belonged to this culture, even began to imagine that maybe I was Arab in a past life! Perhaps it was Allah preparing me for what was to come?
Seven years later, I found myself living in Amman, Jordan, surrounded by Arabs and Muslims. It was a complete and utter cultural shock. Not because things were so different from my homeland, but because they weren’t. You see, before I landed in Amman I was told that women never showed their bodies or wore tight clothing. Wrong. Yes I was impressed with women covered from top to bottom with long coats and head scarves, but never as impressed as with how much cleavage I saw and how tight their pants were. Also, it shocked me that many of my Muslim friends and acquaintances drank alcohol. Needless to say is, my view on Islam wasn’t at its best; I felt it created hypocrites and its many restrictions contributed to girls taking off their hijabs and lying to their parents about going out with boys.
During this time I also had the honor and privilege of visiting Syria, where I saw firsthand beautiful Islamic art, Jerusalem where I entered the Islamic quarters and saw with my own eyes the astounding Al Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock. Finally, I was lucky enough to be accepted in The American University in Cairo, where my feelings towards all things Arab became even stronger. And this is where it all began, because from here on my life changed drastically. During my last year at AUC I met my best friend and the love of my life. I would normally not share it this way but his influence is important and you’ll see why, just keep reading, it gets good, I promise.
Sadly, I wasn’t able to stay on in Cairo, and I had to move back to Chile to finish my studies. But I still kept in touch with my special friend. As time passed in our relationship I began to feel very odd. I can’t remember exactly why or when I began to study about Islam but somehow I did, and strangely I liked it. I say strangely because I’ve never been a religious person. Brought up catholic but always identified more as an agnostic. I knew there was something, I felt there was something bigger and grander, I just couldn’t quite know what it was, was it God? If so what God was it? During my childhood my parents never forced Catholicism too hard because they wanted me to find my own way; little did they know that I’d be falling in love with Islam.
It was exactly as love should be: I was slowly and deeply becoming more interested in Islam, I couldn´t get it off my mind, my heart was beginning to fill up with ideas, and all empty spaces were becoming complete. Islamic art, with its geometric precision and mesmerizing symmetry, is the most perfect sort of art that could ever exist. Quranic recitations made me tear up. I did not understand how this was happening or why, I wanted to make sure it was because of a bigger reason and not because my Muslim boyfriend told me our relationship wasn’t going to work out because of our cultural and spiritual differences.. I had already informed him repeatedly that there was no way on earth I was going to become a Muslim.
Astighfirallah.
I decided to let the feeling develop on its own and not fight it; wherever it may flow and lead me I was ready to go. I also decided it was time to stop being alone and scared about what was going on and to tell someone. The first person I told was a random Tumblr user through an anonymous message. That didn’t help much. I didn’t tell my boyfriend first, because I didn’t know how he would take it. Would he support me? Would he push me? Would he help? When I finally decided to let him know, he reacted exactly as he should have: he didn’t push, he answered my questions, and then left me to discover my path on my own. I did not tell my family until my mom saw me get two copies of the Quran delivered by mail from the States, thanks to a friend I had confided in. Mom was, of course, not too happy.
I began reading parts of the Quran and then asking my boyfriend to teach me how to pray. I began praying and asking Allah to help me with my disapproving family and to guide me to find help. To my surprise the next day I very randomly met the President of an NGO for Muslim women in Chile. She was Chilean and happened to be married to an Egyptian, herself. She also happened to be meeting with other converts and Muslim women at home and invited me. Subhanallah This little episode changed my whole view on the closeness of Allah, and I was sure It was written that I should be Muslim.
Meeting other converts only made me more certain that this was the case. Seeing the love they had for Islam and for Allah was extremely beautiful. Something I had never witnessed in the Middle East. Converting, however, wasn’t quite as easy. The women, while they may have had good intentions, were very pushy about me converting. Many doubted my intentions, some judged me for having a boyfriend and others for not wearing a hijab or for doing my eyebrows, and to top it all, even though it was my first Ramadan fasting completely, I was told by a Palestinian woman that what I was doing wasn’t worth anything, that I was only hurting myself, and that to Allah it wasn’t important because I wasn’t Muslim yet. My heart was broken.
Finally, on the 23rd of Ramadan 1434 Hejira (so last year, 2013), I decided to convert. I called my mom to let her know at Maghreb, and after lots of crying because of her disapproval and harsh words, I converted before taraweeh.
AND IT ROCKED.
I walked into the Sheikh’s office with about six people, received a short lecture from the Sheikh, said my shahada as proudly and as beautifully as I could, held my new Quran and let out a happy cry and a sigh. I was hugged by all the women around me and congratulated on my super new clean awesome life as a fellow Muslim. I called my boyfriend and I’ve never received such beautiful words from him. Hamdulillah, I am truly, truly blessed.
I wish happiness like this upon everyone who reads this. Since that day, I have only been learning and becoming closer to Allah. Yes, it’s been difficult, especially getting the habit or finding the time to pray five times a day, every single day. My heart has grown fuller of love, and I came to understand that it is not Islam that drives people away; I can see clearly how its brought people like me into it, and managed to transform atheists and agnostics and even diehard Catholics because of its beauty, truth and humanity. It is society that doesn’t know how to deal with this beautiful gift from God and it is society that drives away Muslims with the help of Shaytan.
I’ve been blessed enough to have met beautiful people and I’ve been helped and motivated by people who love Allah and who love Islam, very kind people who have not judged and have been there for me no matter what. I'm also blessed hamdulillah to have an amazing family who has gotten used to my life choices and beliefs (as difficult as it was) and are little by little being more supportive and encouraging. Because of them, I’ve been aiming to become a better person, a better friend, a better daughter and sister, a better future wife and mother to my future Muslim children Inshallah.
And finally a few words more, dear fellow Muslim, who graciously took the time to read my long narrative.
Please appreciate what you have.
I was recently told by a Muslim friend of mine that she envied converts because entering Islam was our choice and we weren’t forced by anyone into it, we weren’t forced to wear hijabs, or to pray. It was our decision and no one else’s. I replied that converts envy born Arab Muslims. Why? Because you have it so easy and you don’t even know it. When you were born the shahada was whispered in your ear, you were born as part of the Ummah, and most importantly you have known about Allah even before you knew it, unlike us who found Him and worshipped Him later on in life. When you were little, you watched your parents pray and you learnt by example. We learnt step by step and made mistakes in front of other Muslims, losing track of our movements, often feeling like failures. At school you learnt about Islam and you took Arabic lessons and learnt your Arabic language, even if it’s not the same as classical Quranic Arabic, it’s a lot closer than Spanish or English. It is incredibly hard learning a language when you’re older; Arabic is especially harder if you want to say a surah right, and most importantly be able to say Allah’s name perfectly, like He deserves. You are surrounded by Islam in every way, every day, you hear the athan five times a day, calling you to pray, while we have to rely on our phones and memory.
You don’t have to worry about eating anything haram, while we have to search for halal certified meats, and constantly check out sauces for pork, our burgers for bacon, and our desserts for alcohol, to name a few. Even though discrimination exists for, you will never know how difficult it is to explain to a friend or a male stranger why you suddenly can’t say hello to a man with a kiss on the cheek, and you will never, thank God, watch the pain, disappointment, confusion in your family’s eyes when you let them know you have become Muslim. It’s beyond heartbreaking. You, my friend, are very blessed so please, embrace your beautiful religion, especially in this month of Ramadan or the days that are left, because somewhere in the world there is a sister or a brother struggling with their faith, and their family, with themself and with their future, who wishes they were born and raised like you. And for those of you who converted and are troubling, trust in Allah and have patience, things will get better and things will happen when they are meant to.