Faisal How a young man of Pakistani descent experiences being Muslim in America. By Melody Moezzi Like many first-generation Americans living in different diasporas as the children of what our countries of origin consider an unfortunate brain drain and what the US considers a prodigious example of the successful pursuit of the American dream, I have found myself drawn to friends who like myself cannot help but live in the past and the future simultaneously: those who share the same uncertainty about their identities in the present instant and the same proud, knowing and assured convictions about their respective identities in the past. Faisal is one of those friends, and his story stands out. My most vivid memory of Faisal begins while sitting in the back seat of his mom's maroon Mercedes on my friend Christina's 21st birthday some five years ago. It was around three in the morning, and we were driving back to Ohio State from a party. After being followed for what seemed like an eternity by a cop who refused to run his sirens but preferred to silently ride our ass so close I swear I could hear him breathing, we finally parked. Despite the fact that between the two of them, the cop was undoubtedly the one who was driving like a drunkard, he insisted that Faisal was the intoxicated one. It took him hopping on one leg while perfectly reciting the alphabet backwards to convince the officer otherwise. To this day, I can't shake the image of him with his shoulder-length dreads following the cop's instructions. He answered to the task as though he were doing something as routine as pulling out his license and registration, which incidentally he was never asked to present. Faisal has had his fair share of run-ins with Ohio law enforcement, mostly but not entirely without cause or culpability. That night, however, was definitely a fine example of an unjustifiable run-in, and curious, I asked him why he thought he was always getting into shit like this. I remember his response and the expression that accompanied it, laughing but not kidding, to this day: "It's the melanin." ____________________________________ I remember his response and the expression that accompanied it, laughing but not kidding, to this day: "It's the melanin." ____________________________________ When I first met him, Faisal was a confusing and contradictory hybrid of sorts. His superior intellectual aptitude, his penchant for hallucinogens, his faith and his philosophical existentialist-leaning sensibilities were constantly and concurrently in conflict and concordance. While his contradictory personality persists today, he has apparently by all accounts learned to embrace it, as he no longer requires the assistance of chemical substances to tolerate life. Still, like many, he remains a walking contradiction, but unlike many, he freely admits it and has the short hair, professional attire, inordinately large biceps and matching tattoos to show for it. Faisal and I both share an annoyingly persistent propensity for thought, and as a result, we also share a similar predisposition toward the melancholic side of the emotional spectrum. This mutual proclivity, I think, is why we continue to be friends despite large gaps in communication due to laziness and geography. Last summer, after nearly a year's lapse in any direct contact, Faisal happened to be driving through Atlanta on his way to Tampa for a radiology rotation, and I told him he had a place to crash so long as he didn't mind answering a couple of questions for my book. Faisal's responses to my questions were all so direct, honest and flat-out hilarious that I was sure there was no way of telling his story myself any better than he did in his own interview. So at the risk of revealing my own pathetically elementary skills as an interviewer, I have chosen to let him speak for himself here. Melody: Give me some background – basic criminal profile – age, nationality, family, friends, blood type, social security number – go. Faisal: Um, ok. 25, born in Queens. I got two parents who are Pakistani. My dad grew up in Karachi his whole life and he came from a really wealthy family by Pakistani standards – like my cousins drive Benzes and shit, which is like ridiculous Pakistani-wise. And my mom came from an entirely opposite background. Melody: Oh, how sweet – it sounds just like a Bollywood [India's film industry] movie. Was there lots of dancing and hiding behind trees and fountains? Faisal: Yeah, mine is bad. My dad was pretty much like, "Hey, she looks good. Get us married." Basically that's what happened. Melody: Brothers or sisters? Faisal: Only spoiled child. Melody: OK, enough background, I know most of it anyway, and I can just call you later to ask you the rest. So, now explain what brought you to America and what being American means to you? Faisal: I was brought to America by being born here, and so I know no other way to be. When you're immersed in one thing that's what you choose. When I think of football I think of an oblong ball and not a spherical one. I know who Carson Daly is and I wish I didn't – things from my music choice down to my choice in TV shows. I choose to stick to channels I know my cousins from Pakistan would skip. I picture myself growing old in this country as opposed to other countries. I wear a baseball cap backwards. I guess it's just a feeling I have. Melody: Well put. So now tell me what brought you to Islam, how you practise, why you consider yourself Muslim, that kind of stuff. Faisal: I was brought to Islam because my parents are both Muslim. The level of their practice was minimal until they got older. Neither one was really religious. My mom started becoming religious after I left the house for college. She actually went on Hajj [pilgrimage to Mecca, Islam's holy city, to be undertaken in the twelfth month of the Islamic year], and now she prays five times a day. My dad still doesn't. They sent me to Sunday school at the Islamic center in Columbus when I was a kid. We would memorize surahs [chapters of the Koran] and stuff like that. I didn't dislike it – as long as I didn't miss the first quarter of a Browns game I was fine. I considered it like a class, so I excelled and that's why I think I liked it. I consider myself Muslim because that is how I was taught; that is what I was taught of the divine. I fully believe that any weaknesses in myself can be fixed by Allah. For a long period, though, I chose not to think about God because I had other priorities – I was more into having fun, I guess. There is a reason people start going toward religion as they get older. I was pretty far away from Islam in my late teens, and it was more a source of guilt. Now I see it as a net to crash on that is still there despite my having neglected it. It's how I've been taught; that's the way I know how to pray – I don't at all believe it is the only way to pray, but it works for me. There is something beautiful about the cohesiveness of a group of people praying in a mosque. To be a part of that is really comforting for me. The fact that there is a huge community out there that will accept me based on nothing else – not on how much money I have or on the way I look or dress or on my skin color or nationality. Solidarity and community is what Islam means to me. I see it as a bridge between cultures that otherwise wouldn't communicate – for the one moment you're praying together, you don't think of anything else but what really matters. I can see a real difference in myself and others between the moments that precede the prayer and those that come after it. Melody: So, where are you in terms of practising today? I mean what stands out as most important to you when it comes to practice? Faisal: Well, obviously the five pillars. I'm trying to improve my practice, but it isn't easy. I don't pray nearly as much as I wish I did. I pray maybe two times a week. In terms of Ramadan, I have fasted and not fasted, and when I don't fast I feel bad for not fasting and when I do fast I feel better. Zakat [the Islamic obligation of giving alms], though, is my favorite pillar – even though it's a pretty small percentage that we're required to give, I think charity is really important and should be integral in all religions. I haven't been to Mecca for Hajj yet, but I have been there on Umra [a pilgrimage to Mecca undertaken outside the twelfth month of the Islamic year]. There were so many people, and I was shocked by the fact that there was so much crazy money all over the place. Merchants would leave Rolexes and diamonds out there where anyone could easily steal them – but no one would dare. Seeing the Kab'ah [the cube in Mecca to which all Muslims turn in their daily prayers] was cool – somewhat surreal. It gave me chills every time I looked at it. I just wish that sensation could have lasted longer. One night, I helped this blind guy walk around the Kab'ah. He was talking to me, and I had no idea what he was saying because he was speaking a language I couldn't even guess at. I felt so lucky to be able to help him. What I really liked was that all these people were walking around and having their own private conversations with God, and we were all dressed the same and the men and the women were mixed, so you couldn't see any difference between a CEO and a goat farmer. Before going there, the largest crowd I had ever been a part of was at the new Ohio State University football stadium. I imagine there were at least a million people, all praying in unison. I've just never seen more people in one place, people everywhere, and five times a day in that city everyone drops everything and prays. People are super emotional, and you can imagine they would be, so many of them having saved their entire lives just to make that one trip. It's surreal even to think about it. Melody: What, if anything, concerns you about they way non-Muslim Americans view Islam? If you could change one thing about that perception, what would it be? Faisal: They DON'T view Islam – they don't look at more than a five-second news clip. They see Islam as a threat. They don't ever bother to learn about it. They don't know that Islam means submission to God. And I don't say universally, and I also don't blame people because they are overwhelmed by media and images that are negative. If I could change one thing, I would want people here to realize that there are almost always like fifteen sides to every story. I would want them to not be so quick to judge – it has just become such a Pavlovian response in this country: if terrorism, then Islam. Calling Islam the cause of crazy shit like that, without even mentioning American foreign policy, is a cop-out response. There are plenty of Muslims who aren't like that and there are plenty of people who aren't Muslim who hate the US. Melody: What, if anything, concerns you about your own community's take on Islam, and if you could change one thing about that perception what would it be? Faisal: In Pakistan, a lot of people are uneducated about Islam. A lot don't know how to read, and even the ones that do often just rather rely on what other people say. Basically, most people just don't do the bookwork. It's a pretty ridiculous misconception that if you have a really big beard you obviously know what you're talking about. If I could change something there, I would make people start reading for themselves and stop listening to imams [Muslim religious leaders] instead of their own reason. Melody: What are some of the most memorable reactions you've experienced from others upon discovering that you are Muslim? Faisal: People have tried to convert me to Christianity multiple times. At one point, one of my closest friends, Kevin, was really serious about trying to convert me. He was doing it in a nice way, though, so I wasn't offended because he just wanted me to be saved and he really thought I was going to hell and genuinely wanted me to go to heaven. Yeah, it didn't work, though [laughing]. One of my surgery attendings during this last rotation said flat out that he just didn't like Muslims the first time I met him. He said he didn't know any Muslims but he just didn't like them. I think your religion is a private thing, and since I really wasn't feelin' this guy, I wasn't about to fill him in. Also, I just didn't feel like getting into it, especially with someone who could make my life a living hell for the next two months if he wanted to. Melody: Did he really just say, "I don't like Muslims"? Why didn't you rail on him? Faisal: His exact statement was "I'm very fearful of these Muslims." Melody: Fucking moron! Seriously, why didn't you kick his ass right there on the operating table – I mean after you were sure that the surgery went fine [laughing]? Faisal: Honestly, these guys are grading me. You have to kiss their ass. I don't kiss their ass at all like most of the kids, but I'm not going to try to give them a reason to screw me over, no matter how stupid it may seem. The same guy did say something to my friend Charlie, though. Charlie's a convert, and he's also in the US Army, so he reported him, I think. I don't make an effort to let people know that I'm Muslim. Whereas a lot of people spoke up after 9/11 I didn't go out of my way to speak up afterwards. Maybe that passivity is hiding it in a way, but it just takes so much to educate a happily ignorant person. I'd rather not. I remember this track meet in sixth grade. I was hanging with my friends JJ Kim and Desmond Webster. I think we were warming up for the meet or something, and we overheard this hilljack kid say, "Well that there's a nigger, an Oriental and I don't know what the hell that one is." I guess I'm used to people not knowing what the hell I am, and I don't see how telling them is going to change them in any way – other than giving them jargon to work with. I don't feel like I can change people like that. I feel like maybe I'll just absorb some of their negativity so that overall there would be less. Melody: Um, OK. I think that's crap, but let's move on. Faisal: Fine, screw you. Your feet smell. Melody: Whatever – can we continue? Faisal: Fine. Melody: OK, September 11th. Where were you, what were you doing, and any thoughts? Faisal: I was studying liver pathology at the time – skipping class and reading. I got a call from Desmond. Melody: The same kid from the track meet? Faisal: Yeah. Anyway, he's in the navy now, and he was stationed in South Carolina at the time; he's in South Korea now. So, he called me when only one of the towers had fallen. He told me to go turn on the TV. I remember thinking, "God, I hope this is just some crazy white guy," but other than that I was just in shock like everybody else. I remember being really sad when I saw people jumping out of windows. It was crazy. I just felt really sad. Melody: What are your hopes and expectations for your children? Faisal: Um, great segue, Mom. I don't even have a girlfriend. Melody: Whatever, I'm getting sick and tired of this shit. You're really not as interesting as I thought you would be [laughing]. Really, you're fucking boring as hell. Faisal: Die. Melody: OK, I promise. After you answer this one last question. Faisal: Fine, if you promise. What was the question again? Melody: Your hypothetical kids! What do you expect from them? Faisal: My expectation is that they are hardworking and not lazy, that the lazy gene skips a generation. I'm going to introduce them to every religion and spend time discovering and learning with them. Of course, part of me would love for them to choose Islam, but all I would do to encourage that would be to lead by my own improved example, hopefully. So long as they are well educated and do the research for themselves, they can pick whatever religion they want. I mean, they will definitely be American – but it's their decision whether they are Muslim or not. Generally, if you force anything down someone else's throat, they don't like the way it tastes.   Melody Moezzi is a 25 year-old writer and JD/MPH student at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, where she lives with her husband, Matthew, and cat, Olyan. She is currently writing a non-fiction book about Young Muslim Americans, from which this piece has been excerpted, and for which she is still seeking a suitable publisher. The picture was provided courtesy of her husband. She can be contacted at mmoezzi@law.emory.edu. This website: Copyright © 2005 Dream World Media, LLC. / Urban Mozaik Magazine. All rights reserved. The opinions expressed in Urban Mozaik Magazine are not necessarily those of Urban Mozaik Magazine and the publisher cannot be held responsible for them. This website/publication, in whole or in part, may not be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.