Hard to Say Good-Bye to Yesterday -Ruth Nasrullah
Back in the mid 90s, when I was a newly single mom living a life that swung between elation at my freedom from an oppressive marriage and anxiety over what to make of that new life, I had a best friend named Janice. She was one of three women whom I considered my closest friends in the world. Two of them were single mothers and one was keeping her commitment to a loveless marriage for the sake of her daughter. We each had one daughter and I believe we each hoped to spare our daughters the messiness of our lives.
I have memories of good times with Janice. One year she and I and another of the moms went trick or treating together in the pouring rain. The six of us were crammed into my car and we stopped every few houses to let the kids out to do their thing. We took turns supervising the kids and we all ended up completely soaked but giddy with the adventure and the thought of all the candy to be had once we dried it out. Another time Janice was helping me move out of my apartment and I knocked over an entire canister of ground coffee. Being the caffeine addict that I was, I was obviously horrified. As I swept it up I started my own soulful version of Boyz II Men's “It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday.” Seeing that I hadn't freaked out, our kids and then Janice joined me in an off-tune and melodramatic version of the song. It was hilarious.
That was life back then – I was not a practicing Muslim and life was both fun and bittersweet, full of laughs that kept us just from the edge of bitterness. We were all teetering on the edge – the edge of being broke, the edge of being lonely, the edge of really screwing up our kids, quite frankly.
When I befriended Janice I was very close to the edge. We met in a shelter for battered women the police had sent me and my daughter to in a last ditch effort to keep us safe from my ex-husband. When we walked in the door of the shelter she was the first person I saw and I was immediately intimidated by her. She was a super-butch black woman with un-straightened hair and a spray of moles across her face.
And by butch, I do mean butch. About a year after we met, Janice said she needed to talk to me about something. She sat me down and I listened. “When I was 13 years old I realized…” I interrupted her and said, “That you're gay?” She looked surprised, but I couldn't understand why – it was obvious to me from the day I met her that she was a lesbian. So that was the end of that conversation and life carried on as before. Ultimately she moved to another state and our friendship slowly dissipated, as tended to happen in those pre-e-mail days.
A lot has changed since then. I didn't practice Islam then. I do now, and my religion forbids homosexuality. That's a part of my faith that I have to accept no matter what I believed in the past – in for a penny, in for a pound; in issues that are clear, you can't change the religion to suit your opinions. Accepting things on faith is not always easy, however. One of the most obvious examples is wearing hijab – I've always known that it's required, but it took me several years to get used to the idea.
Although I don't have any gay friends now, I have to wonder how I would follow the mandates of my faith if I did – would I shun someone like Janice? I can't imagine that I would, but the fact that there's a question at all demonstrates a change, no matter how it plays out in my life. My religion sets me on a path away from the open acceptance of homosexuality I was raised with, but as with other things that have changed in my life, I know that I am only on the first step on that path. And although it's sometimes a struggle to change my beliefs, that struggle does not represent weakness of faith, but rather demonstrates the strength of my faith in that I try to accept ideas I did not embrace before.
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dario
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http://abunooralirlandee.wordpress.com Abu Noor Al-Irlandee
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