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When people ask me: “Where are you from?” I have to ask them to clarify what they mean by that. As in where I used to live before this? Or are you referring to the way I look? Usually, they are referring to my race or ethnicity. When I first
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Excuses and fibs piled up: I was sick or I had to go to a wedding. As I grew older, this began to change, and I attempted to educate people on the traditions that I practiced, to see the beauty in the religious practices that I also saw.
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I am fond of these academic check-ins from family. It lets me know that there are many people vested in my education and my well-being. I am not alone.
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College years are our defining years. We’re free from parents (for the most part, that is, if you’re not Brown like me) and most of us are living on our own, making our own decisions, so it’s motivating and inspiring to see the Muslim youth cling to their religion autonomously.
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At UC Berkeley, I’ve met peers with more pride in their faith than anyone else I’ve ever met. On this campus, not only do people in my community deal with the day-to-day stressors of academics, but we also face the greater challenges of realizing other parts of our identities — politically, racially, sexually, etc.
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I am Muslim. I am Black. I am a Woman. It’s important to remember that our identities aren’t defined by one group but rather multiple factions. This intersectionality is what makes us individuals. At UC Berkeley there is a lack of Muslim students and even fewer Black students, making it hard to find a solid community.
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My mom had picked me up from school that day, and she told me that I was to miss a month of school. At 12 years old, I was receiving the opportunity to trek to the other side of the world, stay in Saudi Arabia and complete the spiritual and religious journey that is the hajj.
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To vote is to claim agency — to use the freedoms subscribed to you by law as a source of empowerment within our democratic system.
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To me, Ramadan is a month of magic. It is a time of reflection, of making future plans, of reminding myself of the values that keep me grounded.
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My packed lunches consisted of her biryani or chole, but I found myself wishing that I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich so I wouldn’t be so different.
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