Candid Convertsations : Day One

I don’t remember too much from 1990, except for the excitement that came over me when I went to watch Home Alone and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in theaters, the Ultimate Warrior beating Hulk Hogan at Wrestlemania VI, and of course, the first time I ever visited a mosque.

The night was cool, as is typical of Angeleno nights. I remember wearing a light denim jacket and my new black and white LA Gear shoes my mom had bought me. A swarm of insects were buzzing around and bumping into the fluorescent lights in the parking lot just as Isha prayer was wrapping up. I stood outside the recently converted two-bedroom home that was now serving as the local mosque and remember it quite vividly, despite it being twenty-five years ago.

A small half-Bolivian, half-Pakistani boy came up to me and introduced himself and asked if I was new. Casting aside the usual banter that often takes place when two people meet for the first time, I immediately blurted out with the boldness and frankness only a  5-year-old could muster, “Hey, you want to be friends?”

To my immediate relief, he agreed. Just as he did, however, another young boy turned the corner, pulled up right alongside the first boy and asked, “Who’s this?” A sudden wave of dread came crashing over me. Was my newly formed friendship about to be dissolved as quickly as it was formed? Once again however, to my relief, Mansur came to the rescue and simply introduced me to the three-foot inquisitor. To this day Mansur, Ahmed, and I are still very good friends.

I guess you could say that was the day I converted for the first time. Yes, the first time, but more on that later. Luckily for me, converting when you are five years old spares you the awkward social protocol that goes into being a new member of the community. Relationships are based off of little more than age and gender, making my transition into the colorful social fabric of the San Gabriel community seamless, to say the least.

Convert Cabal

Sadly, however, when one grows up, things that were once so easy and carefree become weighed down with decorum and ceremony. Part of that decorum is the all too familiar “convert cabal”. If you have ever been present for a convert’s shahādah at a mosque, then you know what I’m talking about. If you are the convert, it’s that throng of people queuing to greet, hug and congratulate you on accepting Islam.

I guess that’s why part of me loves the whole thing. The convert’s initial exposure to the community is full of love and hope, salutations and well wishes. What better way is there to induct someone into a community? The only other day one gets that much attention is on their wedding day. I mean, you feel almost like a celebrity, like you actually matter and are important. Indisputably, that sentiment is one that needs to echo strongly and loudly in the ears of any convert upon their conversion. They need to feel welcomed, loved, and above all else, accepted as a valued member of the community.

But then again, part of me strongly dislikes the formality; standing there underneath the lights with a long line of people waiting to see you. It’s almost as if you’re a rare piece of art, like DaVinci’s Mona Lisa or Géricault’s Raft of the Medusa; people waiting in lines to see you, perhaps taking your picture and then moving on with their lives. But unlike the Louvre, the lines eventually stop forming and generally, the people stop caring.

Navigating All Alone Without Tariq, Mariam and Harry

Nonetheless, my main qualm with the whole procession is rooted in what happens after the convert cabal dissipates. After everyone disperses and the lights go off, he or she is too often left alone to navigate the turbulent and tumultuous seas of converting to a faith that is widely viewed by non-Muslims as strange at best and violent at worst; braving the daunting and undulating waves with nothing more than their wits. I do, however, laud those communities that provide new converts with the proverbial map and compass and even go so far as to assign a member of the community to be their guide and mentor. From what I have seen, this strategy is being implemented by a growing number of Islamic institutions. Now, it still isn’t perfect by any means and is only cause for measured optimism, but it is undoubtedly a step in the right direction.

Therefore, my issue does not lie with the institutions themselves per se, but rather, it lies squarely with the individual community members; those that are not part of a mosque committee or involved in its leadership. I’m talking about the everyday Tariq, Mariam, and Harry that comes to the mosque, attends the occasional prayer and event and goes home. It’s a segment of this crowd whose interactions with the convert often drive the convert away from coming to the mosque and in too many cases, from the faith entirely.

Hold off on the Divorce and other Advice

Put aside all of the challenges associated with the changes they will go through in their personal lives outside of the mosque, their attempt at assimilation into the local Muslim populace alone causes me to advise them rather than congratulate them when I finally reach the front of the queue. It’s for that reason I tell converts at their conversions that the next few months of their lives are going to be some of the most difficult they will ever face. I speak to them candidly about the loneliness they will encounter, but more specifically I prepare them for some of the harsh treatment and misplaced advice they may come across when they interact with some community members. These types of stories are innumerable; women being told they need to divorce their non-Muslim husbands immediately, or men being told they need to have their tattoos removed at once otherwise their prayers aren’t accepted. The list of conditions for being Muslim goes on and on.

Born Muslims, especially those who were raised in a Muslim society, must keep in mind that change does not happen overnight. When people enter Islam, they often do so with a ton of baggage and don’t simply leave it all at the front door. Their problems and shortcomings enter Islam right along with them. Islam, despite its beauty and comprehensiveness, is not a panacea that cures the convert of everything that ails them. Addicts are still addicts, poor people are still poor, and dysfunctional families are still dysfunctional. Individuals must take these socio-economic problems into consideration before addressing issues such as marriage or their choice of lifestyle.

I mean, think about it. People are not going to listen to what you have to say about their clothes if they are struggling with drug addiction, or fighting to put food on the table in order to feed their families, or looking for a place to stay because their parents kicked them out of their home after they heard that they had converted to Islam. These problems are real and instead of knee-jerk, judgmental “advice”, individuals in the community should also open up their wallets, homes and hearts to provide support.

Once their lives are in order and at peace, once their focus is no longer inundated in other pressing matters, that is when we, as a community, can start to have conversations about faith and its minutia. Until we reach that point, focusing on the minor details of faith as opposed to trying to keep that person in the faith is like focusing on saving one tree while the entire forest is burning to the ground.

It is better for a person to be a Muslim sinner, believing in Allah and the Last Day, than to be a modestly dressed non-Muslim who knows nothing about Allah or how to worship Him.

Treat the New Borns

Those of you who are born Muslim did not become observant and devout all at once. You needed time to grow and learn. Therefore, we should not expect converts to turn their lives around overnight, but rather, afford them the same luxury you afforded yourself: Time. They need time to teach their non-Muslim husbands about Islam, time to break-up with their boyfriend or girlfriend, time to find a new circle of friends, time to figure out how they fit into this entirely new way of life. New Muslims need to be treated in a similar fashion to that of infants. They need someone to guide them, protect them, nurture them, be there for them when they make mistakes and show them what the proper course of action should have been when they make mistakes. We must allow them to retain their individuality without trying to completely change their personality. We must help them prioritize which issues need to be addressed immediately, and which can be put on the back burner.

Converts are already special for many reasons, mainly because Allah handpicked them out of billions of people around the world to be part of the Ummah. However, post-shahādah converts are in the midst of figuring themselves out. As a community, we must focus on first cultivating faith and love for Allah in a place where not too long ago, was void. This holds true for both converts and born Muslims. Faith is principally manifested from the inside out. Once faith takes root in the hearts of people, only then can they begin to focus on the outward actions of obedience.

Only then will faith take on an added spiritual element, rather than merely being hollow actions void of any purpose or meaning. We must also remember that Islam did not come to completely wipe our canvas clean and paint an entirely new picture with broad, sweeping stroke of the shahādah. Rather, it came to accentuate the good qualities already found in a person, fill in our empty gaps and correct our deficiencies.

Converts are like the Mona Lisa. It’s celebrated for its beauty and revolutionary artistic style, but is no less revered or esteemed despite being considered by some to be an incomplete work of art.