Being my own doctor

 

I’m just going to lay this all out on the line as none of this is what I would consider to be private information I wouldn’t tell friends. It’s just that working for so long in the medical field I have this annoying little voice in the back of my head going, “but this is private patient information and it’s in violation of HIPAA!” However the patient is me and I’m putting the information out there so would it just please shut up already.

 

I have Fibromyalgia (FM). This sucks. I also have what was diagnosed as Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease (UCTD). This also sucks, in some ways quite a bit more than FM does.  I have a feeling in the way bitty back of my gut that I may only have UCTD and all of my FM symptoms are caused by secondary disorders arising from UCTD.  However it would be close to impossible to prove it and I have so many FM symptoms that it does me better to simply keep the diagnosis.

 

What inspired me to write this post today is because I got a bit of information last night that confirmed something I’ve been SAYING all along; I knew it to be true and yet all I’d get were some pats on the head and a “well maybe, but..”

 

In this particular case it is very much my own fault that I didn’t prove them wrong before this, but what I want to write about today is my growing realization that I am, and must continue to be, my own doctor.  And how frustrating this is.

 

The results I got last night were that although I’ve been taking iron supplements and my iron levels are fabulous (for probably the first time in… well a long time) but I am still dangerously anemic. I knew this to be a fact and it is why I resisted taking iron supplements for so long. Therein lies my mistake, I could have proven this years ago if I had just taken them. It is also a mark of the failure of the medical system that I feel like I have to prove the doctors WRONG in order for them to listen to me.

 

I also expected this because even though I was taking the iron, I was still having my familiar bouts of dizziness and momentary blackened vision when I stood up quickly. If you know me in real life and you see me stand up, stand for a few moments looking blank, and then continue on my way it’s because I can’t see a damned thing and I need to wait for my vision to clear before I can walk. I don’t remember a time when this didn’t happen.

 

So now, here I am, with the proof that something else is wrong and where does it get me? Nowhere. There are an almost unlimited amount of things that could cause my anemia, and most of them are scary. The ones that aren’t scary are the ones they can’t really prove, all they can do is slap a sticker on me and send me on my way. “This one is anemic, so refuse to do surgery on her even though there’s nothing she can do about it.”

 

And I can just see an un-ending future of trying to explain to new doctors that I am, in fact, not iron-deficient and no I can’t fix it so yes you’re going to have to figure out a way to heal around it.

 

Beyond that, it was this morning that I was doing some research into non-iron-deficient anemia and I decided to re-familiarize myself with the standards of UCTD. It was a diagnosis I had never really understood beyond that it made my body attack itself. During this research I stumbled across a syndrome that can be caused by UCTD/MCTD which explains a number of things I’ve had for years. Things I went to my doctor and asked her if they could be caused by my disorders to which I never got a good reply.

 

Good reply? I never got a reply; I got vague promise to look into it and nothing since then.

 

And yes, I could ride my doctor like a prize-pony until I got a response but all that would get me is my doctor throwing lab-orders and MRI’s at me until I or my medical insurance cried ‘uncle.’

 

So instead I settle down in front of Dr. Wikipedia with a dictionary and some paper to take notes on and wade through such enlightening terms as “Erythroid hyperplasia with accelerated production of red cells, reflected by reticulocytosis, and slight macrocytosis in peripheral blood.”

 

And in the end, what does all of this time spent in research get me?: an upset doctor who doesn’t trust Wikipedia or internet sites. Sometimes the information IS wrong, or misleading, but it’s a fuck-load more than I got from my doctor.

 

I don’t have an answer for other people who find this blog while in their own quest to figure out what the hell is wrong with them when the doctors won’t listen. All I can do is thank God for Wikipedia and close to a decade of experience working in the medical field. I can at least read through an article and have a small understanding of the gist of the medical terms. I can’t imagine how confusing it would be for someone who hadn’t worked with these terms before.

 

And I can hope that armed with specific questions and requests for the doctor I’ll be going to see tonight, I might, just might, get to figure out what’s wrong with me. Although it’s not as likely as I’d like to think considering that I’m going to a physician I’ve never seen before because it’d be two weeks before I’d have been able to get in with my PMD.

 

Honestly at this point I’m wondering if I should fuck-all and go straight to a Rheumatologist with this. Maybe I’d be able to get in for an appointment sometime before next year… maybe.

 

And please, my friends, I know that you care about me and I appreciate all of your well-wishes ahead of time. Please don’t feel that you have to write something for the sake of my illness. I know that you’re all thinking it as you read. Make du’a for me, and don’t worry about commenting to tell me that you made du’a.

 

And if you are someone who has Fibromyalgia (FM) or Undifferentiated (or Mixed) Connective Tissue Disease (UCTD/MCTD) or both, let me tell you a few things I’ve self-diagnosed:

 

1.)    Stop, immediately, drinking and eating anything that has aspartame in it. The moment that shit became big back in the 90’s I knew that it made me flare up. Anyone remember Clearly Canadian when it first came out? It used to have aspartame in it and it would make me sick. I flare up whenever I have anything with aspartame in particular, although I try to stay away from any artificial sweeteners at all.

 

2.)    Dark colas make me sick as well. Not as sick as diet colas, but anything with caramel coloring makes me feel achy.

 

3.)    Things that have a lot of preservatives really also affect my FM and UCTD. After I eat them I become very fatigued.

 

4.)    Too much sugar affects me, but I will say that this may not be related to my FM and UCTD.

 

If I can think of anything else that I know, personally, makes me ill, I will write about it. Otherwise just keep an eye on yourself, if you feel yourself flare up, think about what you did/ate recently and remember it. And the next time you eat/do those things, see if you flare again. It’s the best method to find out what works for you.

Token Resistance

I keep hearing about how such and such political activist or revolutionary prisoner is on a ‘hunger strike’ for whatever movement or injustice is plaguing them.

What a crock.

I’m certainly not belittling political activists or the movements they fight for, but I belittle the inanity and token bullshitness of this act.

Take for example just today Al-Baghdadi, the former PM of Gaddhafi, has gone on a hunger-strike in the Algerian prison he is being held in to protest his extradition.

Does anyone care whether this dipshit eats? I certainly don’t; Libya and the freedom fighters probably do not; if he wants to hurry the date of his execution and remove the need for a long and drawn out trial, then by all means, please commit suicide and go straight to hell.

I mean, who is going to care if this dude dies?

And it’s the same even on the flip-side, when it is a sympathetic character like a political activist who is throwing around hunger-threats like a toddler who threatens to hold her breath until she gets her way.

Angry Arabiya for example, a Bahraini political activist who went on a “hunger-strike” to protest the arrest and illegal detention of her father, husband, and brother-in-law.

As much as I felt bad for her and her family, what the french-toast did she think was going to happen?! It is apparent that the Bahraini government did not/does not care what happens to her or her family. They obviously weren’t going to give a damn if she died, by her own hand, when they have shown themselves perfectly willing to shoot protesters and move along.

And she’s no Gandhi with millions of followers ready, willing, and able to stage a mass uprising if she died, she would have simply been another drop in an ocean of people killed by evil regimes, and people would have mourned, and then forgotten about her.

I, personally, could only stomach a couple of days of her forced drama. “For the sake of my family and my little baby daughter, who begged me, I am drinking a cup of water a day.”

So, why? Why do people threaten or enact hunger-strikes if they are such wastes of time?

I think it’s because they can. Because it’s easy to fake. It’s easy to do. It’s easy to get out of.

But, can anyone name me an instance where a hunger-strike worked? Not including Gandhi, of course, because in his instance it was fear of his millions of followers mass-murdering the British if he died. Of course that doesn’t belittle his hunger-strike, because it worked, but other than him?

Maybe there have been, but for me the “hunger-strike” is the new hipster form of “protesting” and I think very little of it.

I’ll think I’ll hunger-strike the fact that I’m not a millionaire.

Addition: So, I’ve done a little bit more reading into Angry Arabiya (Zainab alKhawaja) and really….

On her twitter bio she states “. . .  I hate Arab dictators, and American neo-colonialism.”

And yet as soon as her father was beaten and detained (may Allah grant his release and the release of his compatriots), she sat down and wrote a letter to President Obama.  Reference.

It’s shit like that which really pisses me off.

Dream Home

Does anyone else look up house listings in their area, pick a house they love, and then spend hours dreaming of how to decorate it, and what things they would cook in the mind-blowing kitchen (because it must have a mind-blowing kitchen)?

*sigh*

InshAllah one day my dream home will come true.

Dawah By Dong*

In this title I am talking about the men who are intent on spreading Islam with their man-parts, by dating and eventually converting poor, misguided women in the West.

I hesitated to write this post, despite my passion on the subject, because I, myself, was involved with a Muslim man when I converted to Islam. I’ve mentioned this before and am mentioning it again in the interest of full disclosure. I didn’t convert for this man, however, as evidenced by the fact that I rejected his marriage proposals, broke up with him soon after converting, and moved out of state to escape him, my family, and my old life in order to re-discover myself in my new, chosen, identity.  I had also been bumping up against, discovering, and delving into Islam for four years before this relationship so the brother was not my first introduction to the religion. InshAllah he will get reward though because he did help me cross that final threshold.

I also hesitated because I anticipate that this will be, possibly, an offensive topic for many out there because I very rarely, and I mean rarely, meet women who converted on their own, without being in a relationship, or already being married to a Muslim man. I identify myself as someone who came into Islam by myself, although in fact I do wallow in a gray area between due to this relationship. I can neither disregard nor completely credit the contribution of this brother for my being Muslim. But I generally count the two years between my conversion and my marriage as sufficient to identify myself as someone who came into Islam without being married to a Muslim man. You may disagree with that as you wish.

Many, many converts cannot say the same thing though, and I fear that I will marginalize or degrade their decision to convert by what I want to say in this post. I do not mean to. There is nothing to say that your Islam is less valuable because you married your husband before, or soon after, you converted.

My object of disdain is the Muslim man who dates easy, empty-headed women and then uses the leverage of “I can’t marry you because you’re not Muslim” to break it off when the poor girl gets too clingy. And who justifies his rutting around by saying that he believes she is interested in Islam and he wants to guide her. But then uses aforementioned excuse to break it off when he tires of shagging her.

And there are men who date women who aren’t even interested in Islam and then, when both are invested in the relationship, put pressure on their girlfriends to convert because he won’t marry, and make babies with, a non-Muslim. This is a very sad and unfortunate situation because the women are forced to choose between losing the man that they love or converting to a religion they don’t believe in.

I would be surprised if you, the reader (assuming that you are Muslim and you travel in Muslim circles,)  had never known of, or heard of, a situation where this had happened. The woman breaks down and “converts,” the man marries her, they pop out a few kids and 10 years down the road the woman is miserably unhappy with being a Muslim, covering, and dealing with the expectations so they divorce. It’s a bitter divorce, and of course she leaves Islam, and a year later the kids are going to Friday prayer with dad and Sunday school with mom.

This is why dawah by dong is fatally flawed even though it is the primary method by which many women convert.

Obviously I am ignoring the simple fact that offering his man-parts to ‘ze ladies’ is haraam. I’m ignoring it simply because they do.

I don’t know how many times I’ve seen Muslim men with non-Muslim women. And very, very, very few of them plan on marrying these women. They’re just playing around until they save enough plata to bag a virgin from their home country. The kufar women are simply for getting his rocks off before then. Sometimes the man is afraid enough of Allah that he marries the chick Islamically so that the sexy-times are not a sin, but the final outcome is the same.

Raise your hand if you’re a non-Muslim and you’ve heard that Muslim men are skeezes? Heck, raise your hand if you’re Muslim and you’ve heard, or seen, that Muslim men are skeezes?

*raises hand*

But behind this are a number, a large number, of women who met their husbands at work/school, became romantically involved, learned about Islam, converted, married, spawned, and are living happily ever after as content Muslimahs. MashAllah.

But oh, oh, how many failures there are. How many men there are who use it as an excuse. Even as an excuse to marry a SECOND wife. To “help” some woman who is thinking about converting, or recently converted, stay on the path.

Because God knows that we women aren’t strong enough to keep a religion without a man around to remind us.

And what a noble cause this gentleman is embarking on: saving the converts of the world, four women at  a time.

Spreading the good word of Islam with his “sword.”

Enough.

Islam is beautiful enough to spread without blackmailing a woman into it.

Women are competent enough to discover how to be a good Muslim without a man to teach her.

And if you are interested in Islam, contact a local mosque. Or go ahead and ask that dreamy-eyed brown boy in your organic chem class about Islam but don’t, do not, absolutely do not tie YOUR Islam to him or anyone else.

Make it your own. And then marry him.

But this method of spreading Islam needs to stop.

Though I doubt it ever will.

I’d flay the skin off my son if I ever caught him doing this, although I would support him giving a Quran, advice, or the number to the local masjid to the pretty young thing who approached him in organic chem.

But I’d make sure she wanted Islam for herself before I consented to a marriage.

Brothers, be responsible.

Ladies, be smart.

And please forgive me if I have offended anyone, it wasn’t my intention. I just had to get this off of my chest.

 

 

*I apologize for such a crude way of putting it, but its apt.

 

Addendum: There are many good, righteous brothers who seek to marry converts because they like the idea that a woman, who was interested in Islam, became a Muslim and they want the reward of helping her learn Islam. Sometimes they help a woman, who has approached them with questions, and the relationship becomes romantic before she converts and after she does they then marry. This situation, from my experience, is the majority of the cases of how women convert to Islam. Its close to the line but doesn’t cross it, and may Allah bless them.

My husband married me after I had been Muslim for 2 years and he is happy to say this whenever anyone asks. Alhumdulillah.

Birthday Poem for My Husband

Usually I would post this on my writing blog but this is something I want to be very public.

A Birthday Poem for My Husband

I never knew
you didn’t know
my deepest thoughts;
you seem so close.
Like a piece of you
beats inside of me
next to my heart,
like a single being.
I never knew
you couldn’t feel
how thankful I
felt to be with you.

But I am.

And I do
love you.

Disillusionment

I’m honestly at my wit’s end here.

You know, my father really effed things up when I was young and this isn’t a new story for my long-time readers. He really messed up his own life, and did a number on mine as well. But for everything that he did wrong he was NEVER abusive to me, he was never abusive to my mom, and he never cheated. His “other woman” was drugs and while I may not agree or condone the choices that he made, I can at least understand them in the face of his addiction.

I honestly thought that it was possible to have a normal family life, despite the lack of that while I was growing up. I always thought that if I made all the right choices, that things would be different for me and my future family.

After converting I met a number of young families my own age and I thought to myself: “Here are these happy families mashAllah; they’re healthy, Muslim, and growing. I hope that Mr. MM and I can have the same, inshAllah.”

Is it too much to ask, really? Am I expecting too much?

Because within the last year or so I have seen and heard things that blew those happy little thoughts right out of my head.

The happy families I admired are not so happy or admirable. People I thought of as upright Muslims and decent family men are not so much of either. Am I expecting the impossible?

And wallahi don’t take this as commentary on Mr. MM because alhumdulillah he is a wonderful husband and will make a wonderful father inshAllah. He hasn’t done to me what I’ve seen other Muslim men do to their wives, alhumdulillah.

But I’m terrified that it’s simply a matter of time. Am I attempting the impossible?

Is there no simple ‘good’ in this world?

Is a happy and well-adjusted family something impossible to acheive?

Is there, ultimately, no accountability on the part of men in this world?

Should I give up now? honestly? Am I just fucked?

I just… I don’t know.

If these people can’t pull it together, what chance do I have?

I am so heart sick and disillusioned. I just don’t know what to believe anymore. I feel like no matter how hard I try, in the end it will amount to nothing.

And if there is nothing I can do, why would I bring children into that?

And why don’t men ever think about it before they make the choices they do?

It makes me sick.

January 25th

I still don’t feel like I’m in place that I can blog about these past 21 days; my heart is still lodged firmly in my throat.

My friends, my family, acquaintences, people I didn’t know but who I followed on twitter and felt close to in an internet-ty sort of way, were putting their lives, their safety on the line for the good of a nation… their nation.

Other friends and family were taken in by the constant barrage of propaganda on State TV and who spoke against this fight for their freedom; a fight they didn’t understand and couldn’t see in its entirety. I felt constricted by their inability to see, it was like bashing your head against an immovable wall.

I spent those 18 days glued to computers and Al-Jazeera (who did such an outstanding job at reporting from Egypt that I STILL don’t know how they did it.) I barely slept. I barely ate. I cried. I agonized. When I did sleep, I dreamt about the revolution.

I wanted so badly to be in Tehrir. I like to say that I would give anything to have been there, but the truth is that what I would have given up is my job. I’ll carry a little bit of shame inside me forever, no matter how rational and responsible my reasons for staying were.

The fact of the matter is that once the anti-foreigner sentiment took hold I would have been relegated to the side anyway, simply for protection of the Egyptians fighting.

But, whether I physically threw rocks and bandaged wounds or not, the simple fact is that I am a different person post revolution. It may have only been 21 days ago, but to me, and to Egypt, it was a lifetime ago.

I am so proud of my friends and family, of my acquaintances, of those tweeps who I may not know in person…

I am proud of Egypt.

Proud of those people.

And the moment my husband finishes his schooling, I will begin packing our bags to go back to help rebuild this country.

I may not have been able to give my blood, sweat, and tears to freeing the country, but I will dedicate them to building it back up.

Ta7ya Masr.

I am a Western Muslim

I’m having a go at this again because my post was just put to shame by the brilliance of my fellow convert bloggers, mashAllah. See all of their contributions here in the comments.

I want to say first that I feel I came off a little glib in my last post, as if my checklist could solve all your mosque problems.

 Believe me, I know that it won’t. I just know that this is how I’ve dealt with problems that I’ve faced.

 But also know that I plain gave up on going to ICC Tempe in Arizona because all the women there froze me out, despite all of my attempts. Yes, I’mma call ICC Tempe out because I wasn’t the only one to face that same problem. Shame on all of you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

 I also only made a few appearances at ICC Phoenix because of the same issue. O Ummah of Arizona, you need to get your ish straight.

 I was the most welcomed by the Pakistanis of the 32^nd Ave Masjid, even though I didn’t go often because I wasn’t 100% happy with the leanings of that Imam, even though he is a good man mashAllah. At the time (this is 4 years ago, so things may have changed) it was definitely a culturally-driven Islam being taught there, and it didn’t jive with me.

 My point is that I encountered the same sense of not fitting in, and the same lack of a supportive ummah.

 And that is why I value the ummah in Minnesota so very, very much.

 UmmLayla blogged about the mosque that she would like to see built and what amenities she would like to see it offer. Alhumdulillah this is something that we have achieved here in Minnesota, so my friends, take heart. It IS possible.

 I want link up to the organization that has put into place so many of the programs that we need as an Ummah: Building Blocks.

 Building Blocks isn’t the origin of the wonderful ummah here, it is a PRODUCT of it. It is the product of many years of work done by wonderful, community-driven, Muslims and under the supervision of Sheikhs who made themselves available to an avid and hungry community. It is the product of blood, sweat, and tears; of 20 hour days and sleepless nights. It is the product of cooperation between Masjids and Sheikhs who don’t always have the same ideas, but are willing to put aside differences and work towards a greater goal.

 I’m not sure its something all communities can achieve, but it IS possible.

 I want to move on to another subject though; one brought up directly by Amie and alluded to by other contributors: the idea that Islam/Muslim and Western can’t ever exist jointly. You’re either Muslim, or you’re Western.

 The idea that if you haven’t completely given up your western side then you are not a true Muslim and you will always fall short.

 I alluded to it too, when I spoke of the initial phase of converting to Islam, the astughfurlillah and apologist phase.

 I also said that it is something many converts eventually grow out of. Like Nicole said in her post that most of us blogging dinosaurs figured it out, but disappeared and now the new Muslim bloggers are making the “New-Convert-itis” mistakes that we made or read about five years ago. Eventually they will make all the mistakes we made, or saw, or had to deal with as new converts years ago, and we will watch as some of them implode, while others grow up as we did.

 The problem with so many of the new converts is that even if you tell them that they are making a mistake, or that they are wrong, they won’t get it. They won’t understand. They’re stuck in that phase and they just have to live it out.

 But we can be there for other new converts online or in our local masjids, so long as we keep our presence up. And that would involve dealing with mosque-politics, for better or worse.

 How does that saying go? I don’t mean to be trite but: be the change that you want to see in the world.

 So when you see a new convert, or would-be convert enter the masjid, welcome them. And if they can’t pronounce the surah correctly, tell them that it will come with time.

 And show them, and the masjid too, that its possible to be Western and Muslim, so long as Islam is what guides you.

I also want to, as an end note, give credit where credit is due. Never underestimate what your online friends can bring to you, because even after 6 years of being Muslim, I still make a helluva lot of mistakes. I judged, even if it was silently, certain people or movements.

And so, while I may not always agree with the ideas of some of these sisters, I need to give them a shout out for making me see how important it is to let the judgement go and see that the most important thing about a person is that they are Muslim and that they are trying.

I may not agree with their path, but the most that I can do is be the best Muslim that I can be and leave the judgement up to God.

So, Nicole: I hope you know that your rants have made a huge impact on me. Thanks for being so angry. (just kidding.) You always have an important point to make.

Organica: I don’t always agree with you, but yours is a voice that needs to be heard because there is so much wisdom behind it.

UmmLayla: Because there is so much sage wisdom behind what you say and what you don’t say.

Thank you ladies for smacking me around when I need it.

Convert Truths Blogival- Shades of Grey

I was having a wonderful conversation yesterday with a good friend of mine who is much like me; a convert married to an Egyptian with similar religious leanings. We were talking about ummahs in different parts of the US that we had lived in or had friends in- what these ummahs had, what they lacked, and what we’re thankful for (a lot) in our local ummah here in Minnesota. We agreed that the Twin Cities definitely has the best ummah that we’ve ever lived in (alhumdulillah) and we posited that it might be the best in the entire US, in terms of size, amenities, and general brotherly love and cooperation.

Get ready, this blog post is really just a long commercial for why you should move to Minnesota.

Just kidding.

But you should.

When I read Nicole’s intro for Convert Truths (link here), I immediately felt a sense that all of her topic suggestions applied, and yet really didn’t apply to me, if that makes sense.

We’ve all been through the die-hard newbie phase; the abaya and niqab phase; the astughfurlillah phase. It’s a good phase, really, an earnest phase and we all generally go through it with sincere intentions.

I think its a necessary phase when it comes to a convert’s need to figure out who she/he is in terms of being a Muslim and still being oneself. Many people need that phase to remove themselves completely from their pre-Islamic mindset, to break from the routine.

I had that phase, my friends, I daresay that I was even a bit of a know-it-all for awhile. So obnoxious.

But eventually I grew out of it; eventually I was able to reconcile who I wanted to be as a Muslim while still retaining my individuality, as most converts are also eventually able to do. But I’ve been Muslim for coming up on 6 years now and I reckon that it took all 6 of them to get where I am today, and God only knows how much different I will be in 6 more.

What I can say is that having lived in Egypt made a huge difference in me as a person entirely, not just religiously. It doesn’t make me the go-to expert on all things Egypt, but I SINCERELY recommend that any convert lives for at least one year in their spouse’s home country because you learn so much about where your spouse comes from, why he/she acts, reacts, thinks, feels, and leans a certain way. Its a meeting point between you and him/her. If I could, I would make it mandatory.

Like I have that power. *flexes muscles*

Friends, it also gives you a bit of street cred with the mosque men/women from your spouse’s Backhomeistan, and it makes you a lot less obnoxious when you expound on why Backhomeistan is such a wonderful place, paved with gold, filled with super deeni people who are loads better than the western kufaar you have to deal with everyday; mostly because you probably wouldn’t expound on that because you’d know that Backhomeistan is actually only about 3% paved with bad asphalt and 99% culturally Muslim.

Seriously. See what I’m saying? Its terribly important.

Especially when it comes to mosque street cred with the Backhomeistan crew. And it ain’t just us converts, either. Western-born Backhomeistanians deal with the same exact side-eye from the crew if they’ve never lived in Backhomeistan, so try not to take it personally if you DO get side-eye when you try to sit with them.

Which brings me to a really, really important piece of information for new converts, old converts, any converts dealing with side-eye from Backhomeistanians in the mosque:

And I’m going to say this very baldly;

Stop giving a fuck.

Your religion is not FOR them to side-eye or front-eye or judge in any manner, mostly because many of them really have no more information about it than you do. See my reference to Backhomeistan being 99% culturally Muslim. They know the basics but unless they are scholars, they’re learning along side you.

And if they are scholars, and they’re still giving you the side-eye without welcoming you and try to help you, then they have a LOT more to learn.

But in reality, at least in many mosques I’ve been to, halaqa-time is Backhomeistanians Social Hour so really, the side-eye is less about religion and more about culture. Which is where Backhomeistan street cred comes in handy.

Now, lets go back for a second to my first paragraph, the one about Minnesota being an awesome place to be Muslim (alhumdulillah) (told you, long commercial for Minnesota); I feel blessed to have lived here and to have come into Islam here.

Are there mosque politics? Abso-freaking-lutely. You can’t get a group of people together WITHOUT some sort of interpersonal politics- religious, work-place, friendly, or otherwise. Its human nature, so try to not take it seriously.

Plenty of sisters I know have stopped going to the mosque here because of these politics, or because of snide things said or enacted by a group of other sisters.

This is sad to me, because they are ways to get around it as long as you are able to let it roll right off your back and, as I baldly stated above, stop giving a fuck.

For those of you who are having an issue with mosque politics, feeling burned by the side-eye, or out-casted I would like to give you a checklist:

1. Check YOUR intentions. What are you going to the mosque for?
   • Socializing? I don’t blame you for it, where else can you socialize with other Muslims without having a core group of Muslim friends?
     1. Try another mosque, sometimes that’s all you need. If there are no other mosques then open up communication between you and the other women/men. Communication is KEY because they may only be giving you the side-eye because they don’t know you, and they can’t know you unless you talk to them. Yes, its shitty of them not to make the first move and welcome you, but if they are Backhomeistanian they may already feel out of place and uncomfortable around westerners. Sometimes it just takes breaking the ice and you find that they realize they were wrong about you and you were wrong about them. You can’t know until you try. Honestly, I’ve bull-dogged my way into a group of Egyptian women (after living in Egypt for a year, they became a lot more open to me because I LEARNED how to interact with Egyptian women. I TOLD you its important to have that street cred.) and now they’re pretty wonderful. You don’t HAVE to have the street cred, you just have to try. If they still ice you out, then they are not worth it.
   • Religious talks/classes/prayer.
     1. MashAllah. Why do you care what they think then? Go for the Islamic knowledge and fuhgeddabout the other people.
     2. Your local/only mosque is a different sect/leaning than you? That’s a toughie, especially when you have few options. Move to Minnesota.
        • Ok, I’m joking. But really, I don’t have an answer for that beyond trying to find a good online community. Internet friends are just as important as real friends, only you can’t hug them.
   • All of the above, but the men/women like to cause drama and you’re tired of it.
     1. What type of drama? Can you ignore it? I promise you if you stop giving a fuck what they think, and focus on why you are there, it should be better. Just because Islam is perfect, doesn’t mean Muslims are. Focus on why you’re there; focus on Allah.
2. Check YOURSELF, and I mean this sincerely. Drama is many times a two-way street. If you take a step back, stop responding, stop back-biting about the other person to those people who are on your side, and the other person continues their rain of drama upon you, eventually it will become obvious that the only person continuing the beef is them. Focus on your reasons for being there, and ignore the drama-whores. They’re like bullies, if you stop rising to their taunts, they get bored. It may be hard, but remember that Allah rewards the person who backs down from a fight even though they are right. I’m too lazy to look up the hadeeth, but I’m pretty certain that reward is Paradise.

Of all the mosque drama I have ever encountered personally, most of the above advice should suffice. If it doesn’t, feel free to email me your issue at mollyannelian at gmail dot com.

Maybe I can start a Dear Abby column and call it Dear Amina.

I think this blog post is not what Nicole was looking for.

Plus I don’t know how to wrap it up. I am so off my blogging game, see why I don’t blog much anymore?

I stopped giving a fu— ok, I should stop swearing, sorry.

In reality, the Muslim blogosphere is no longer what it was then because we, the dinosaurs, grew older, wiser, and, at least in my case, tired. Many of us came into Islam around the time that blogging blew up and so we dove into this new media with the desire to work through our issues, our growing pains, and our creative labors online.

For me I live blogged a tumultuous, horrible, wonderful, amazing, and painful year in Egypt, and before that the first ten months of my marriage in the US, separated by an ocean from my husband. I could not have made it through that without my blog, and my friends who commented on my posts and commiserated with me. Thank you all for that, by the way.

Maybe Twitter has replaced my blog for me, because I can air my grievances out immediately, in 140 characters or less, or in a long, run-on set of tweets.

Maybe when I pop out a mini-me I’ll go back into live-blogging that child’s first smiles, farts, spit-ups, and steps. I don’t know.

Maybe right now I’m just at a contented point in my life. Alhumdulillah. Happy, comfortable, completely and totally bourgeois. I go to work. I cook. I shop at Target. I fill my car with gas. I dig myself out of the million tons of snow we seem to have gotten this winter (seriously, will it ever STOP?!?). I hang out with my wonderful friends and family.

I’m… happy. Alhumdulillah.

And I think I would make a very boring blog.

Am I getting boring? Honestly, I’m exhausted. I forgot how much work this blogging thing was.

So.. snappy wrap up?

I’ve got nothing. Check out my checklist though, see if you think it would apply. See if you think its a bunch of bull-hockey. Give me things you think should be added.

We’re works in progress, all of us.

And everything we do.

Moroccan Madame Says Her Girls ‘Hajj’ed Up’ Before Ban [Satire]

31^st of August, 2010

Moroccan Madame Says Her Girls ‘Hajj’ed Up’ Before Ban
By Maha Raouf
Al-Abasseya Weekly, Rabat, Morocco

This last week I sat down with Rania Hamadouchi, a local business woman and madame, on the outskirts of Rabat, Morocco’s capital city, to discuss the recent Saudi ban against young Moroccan women going on Hajj, Islam’s sacred pilgrimage to Mecca.

“It’s alright,” she immediately tells me. “We knew about the ban something like two years before now.” She and her girls were tipped off to it by a regular Saudi client of her brothel, a prominent businessman whom she refuses to name.

“Since we knew that it was coming, we pooled our money and sent our girls to stock up on Hajj before the ban was put into place.”

She stops to pick her teeth thoughtfully, “Although, in the end that turned out badly for us; we lost some of our best girls.”

She goes on to explain that after the pilgrimage some of the girls rediscovered their religion and vowed to never return to prostitution.

“I think one of them even decided to wear the face veil,” she sighs, “It was an utter disaster.”

“But,” she brightens visibly, “I don’t have to worry about that now since my girls can’t make the pilgrimage anymore. At least not until they’re too old for me to use, anyway.”

When I bring up the pressure being placed on the Moroccan government to ban Saudi men from entering Morocco for their summer vacations she becomes obviously upset.

“God, I certainly hope they don’t do that. Those Saudi vacationers are something like 75% of our income. I don’t know what a ban like that would do to our industry.”

Finishing the mint tea she offered me I leave her pondering that grim, uncertain future.

“I wonder if we can put a spell on them,” I hear her saying to herself as I walk out the door.