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Living as a Muslim in America

Actually, living as a Muslim (one who submits to God) and being African-American in America have been quite the extreme. Since 911, it seems that prejudice and discrimination have a newfound meaning. What do I mean by this? As an African-American born and reared in this country, it was not foreign for prejudice and discrimination to exist. Our expectations were higher for the struggles we would endure.

During my childhood to adolescent stages, it was perpetuated by peers and others that the lighter you were the better your appearance. Of course, this conditioning of thinking was reinforced earlier by the white dolls we played with and the videos watched on television. On the playground, if you were not light-skinned with straight to curly hair, you were visioned amongst your peers as unattractive.

As an adolescent, visiting the mall to purchase a pair of shoes for the party on Friday night was more than a task. It was an afterschool event for preparing ourselves for harassment by the salesperson or an in-house security agent. It reminded of the time when my friends and I were shopping for clothes. The department store security followed us around the store for several minutes. What the security officer did not realize is that a group of Caucasian females two racks over were shoving lingerie in their dark gray duffel bags. What did this say to me? Well, it reminded me that the eyes will always focus its lens on me due to stereotypes and the color of my skin.

But never did I wonder that the color of my skin or just being female would be the smallest battle in my life. As a child, I was always different from everyone else. I developed earlier and faster. I was known to rebel and purposely not fit in the crowd. Let's say, it became more of a fad for me to be unique. With no surprise to my family, I converted to Islam. In 1992, I started dressing more modestly and praying more. In addition, my perspective on life changed. It was the best decision I made for an angry child growing up in the streets of Newark and Irvington, New Jersey. In the early 1990's, living as a Muslimah (Muslim who is a female ) in America was a noble honor. Your hijab (head covering) and loose fitting garments were symbols and reminders for others to give you the respect you well deserved. My dressing also reminded others of the civil rights movement and the key players involved. As I learned more and more about the Islamic religion, I learned about the Prophet

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