Telling my Family...

After long conversation from my new found brothers in Islam, I couldn’t hide this from my family any longer. I had studied long and hard to be able to answer the question that they might ask, I thought being prepared with knowledge would ease things.


My mother:
I wasn’t living close to them, thousands of miles away in fact. So my first communication about Islam with my parents and family came via telephone. The decision came from the little hope maybe they would see the light also, and the feeling that I was some how lying to them. The Quran calls that we respect our parents to the highest degree. So with a mixture of these feelings, I blurted out to my mother on the telephone, “I am a Muslim”. The first reaction was confusion. She asked if I was joking. She just didn’t understand what I was trying to tell her. She kept repeating to me, you are a Christian. Then silence. It was a scary silence. She wouldn’t speak a word to me. Then the only explanation I have to what happened next is that shaytan was speaking through her. The most vulgar and scary things came out of my mothers mouth. At first she condemned unnamed men that she had claimed to have brain washed me, and of course was going to make me “blow my self up”. After listening for a while, I attempted to speak to her again. Thinking it would put her to ease that this was a decision I have come to by my own studying, I told her if she had any questions at all then please ask. Her questions were not question but statements at first. I knew that first night I would not be able to speak to her while she was calm. There was no good bye or good night on the phone that night, she hung up and refused to speak to me. My greatest fears were rushing through my head, I cried for hours afraid that my mother would no longer talk to me. But knew all I could do is pray for her, and for my self, that Allah would take care of me.

It would be nearly a week later before I was able to speak to my mother again, she had turned into “let me save you”. I would spend many nights listening to her read me the bible, and I would reply with things from the Quran or even contradicting bible verses. Until I grew where I understood, there was no point in debating about the religions with her, and I told her something beautiful from the Quran, “You shall have your religion and I shall have my religion.” That I will always respect her, but this must come be fore her. I asked her, what do you have when you die? What can we take with us to the afterlife? She was quiet and then said “nothing”. I replied, I won’t have you and you won’t have me to stand beside, these are things we have to figure out and understand for our selves. I told her I would do anything in this world for her, but this is beyond this world. That conversation was a turning point. She began to see that I wasn’t going to change, and a love of a mother showed through. I sent her books so that she could read, and we could talk. Of course I would spend months defending Islam still, having heated talks about what I believed, but I wouldn’t lose my mother. At the end of the day she loved me.

Our relationship today is strong, we still have our struggles. She is in the phase where she chooses to ignore everything about me that says Islam. I hear that my beard is poufy and I need to shave all the time from her, and stopped asking why I excuse my self during the day when I am with her for those five distinct times. But honestly all and all, we are okay. I know there will be many more struggles to come, but a mother’s love will prevail.

My father:
Well my father was and very much is a different story then my mother. You see he served in the military in Iraq in the early 90’s and has an ignorance that has been deeply ingrained into him about Muslims.

I did not tell my father, as I knew my mother had already done so. I knew this because when I had attempted to tell my father about this I was unable. He simply would not speak to me. The story with our interaction would take months to develop, because he and I didn’t speak for that long. He was so angry with me. He wouldn’t answer my phone calls or my emails to him. Until two months after he found out, I received an ugly email from him. Telling me I have done an evil thing, which I make my mother cry every night. Telling me that these people are going to take me away from them, which I will change my name and run away to be a terrorist, that finally I needed to come back to my family and god before something terrible happens.

I replied to him by email, as I saw that he would be passive aggressive about this entire thing. I told him that it was ok. I am still the same son they had before, but in fact improved. The little differences they would see were I wouldn’t eat pork, and maybe a beard. But day to day and our relationship does not need to change. This email would be replied with, “whatever”, one word from him that would hurt deep into me.

The silent treatment would last for some time. Well not complete silence. Facebook comments would be left on my wall for everyone to see, “I am sorry world for having a disappointing son” or “it hurts to see my son turn into this”. The thing that really hurt my father more then anything I believe was his image as a father to the small community that I was raised in. Everyone in the community new, because I was no longer shy about my faith, and honestly I didn’t realize the backlash would come back on my family also. He once posted a comment that asked me publicly. “Where did I mess up as a father raising you?” That was it, if he wanted to talk, we would have to do it somewhere besides publicly on a social networking site. I was simply deleting his comments, but that time, I have to admit I deleted him off my site.

I called him and he finally answered, after many hateful words, I asked if he would come to dc to help me pack and return home. I felt it would give us time to talk on a long road, and I had planned that he would meet some of my friends that are Muslims. Maybe all he needed to see was that Muslims are good people, normal as he and everyone he knew. I had arranged that he meet with a few brothers, a few white Muslims reverts like my self, a few that did work as firemen and police officers.

He came to DC after much convincing, refused to meet the group that we arranged for him, but did meet the Muslim family that I had become so close to while I was there, Rizwan and his family. If there is one way I know how to get to my dad it is by luring him somewhere there is good food. I talked him into meeting rizwan and his family by telling him about the amazing food that his wife makes. (And it was amazing!)

He would be quiet there, it was an awkward occasion. But I thought it was good at the time. We left, directly from Rizwans home to return to texas, a home I hadn’t seen in two years. We spent two days driving, and not a word spoken from him the entire time. Silence filled my car moving down the high way, but thoughts filled my head the entire way.
When returning home, it was a mixed emotions seeing my family again, slightly awkward but still the love you have with a family is amazing.

My father had filled the house with things that I didn’t agree with. A family that did not drink alcohol now kept alcohol in their home. A family that rarely ate pork had what looked like it would amount to 5 pigs in the freezer.

Our relationship today is hot and cold, mostly cold. Some days he seems to be ok with me, but most he chooses not to speak to me. One day a fathers love will show through inshallah.


My grandmother:
I would have one family member that would surprise me. Never shed a word from her mouth that sounded hateful. My grandmother when finding out about this would say, “let’s study together”. Most likely to have me convert back, but our conversation would be amazing through those months we talked. She was sincere when she listened and ever more she spoke. She told me, “I don’t have long Josh on this earth. I really do need to know the truth.” I would send her a book that I had read, and the next day we would be talking about it, as she had already finished the book. She seemed to be just as interested in this as me. I don’t really know today if it was because it was because it was me, or if it was because she was genuinely interested.

She would inspire me over the next few months, with questions about Islam. She would make me a better Muslim.

Then one day, I received a heart wrenching call. She was in the hospital. It doest look good. She would spend two weeks there, fighting for her life, on life support. I would go into her room and she would hold my hand, I knew it was the end. There was a look there at the end, and tear, I don’t know what she was thinking, but she took everything she could to squeeze my hand… almost to thank me. I don’t know if she ever accepted Islam for her self and I wont know while I live on this earth, but if any family member of mine did, it was her.

The hospital would provide awkward moments as I would try to avoid my family when they prayed Christian prayers. I even had to tell my great uncle whom is a preacher that he needed to leave his hands off me, as he attempted to physically force me into a room for prayer.

Then the time came to say good bye, we couldn’t leave her on life support any longer. It was over. I stood beside her when she took her last breathe, holding her hand like I had done time and time again those two weeks. The only thing that could come to my mind as I watched and felt her slip away was.. ʾašhadu ʾan lā ilāha illa (A)llāh, wa ʾašhadu ʾanna Muḥammada(n) rasūlo (A)llāh


There were other family members to act in distinct ways, but these were the ones that I will never forget. Three different ways that family member may respond. Oh.. Then there is the fourth my sister who said, “I don’t care his still my brother”. Aunts and uncles took varying responses. Some don’t talk to me other want to save me. It’s the same with my cousins and other grandparents. Each person that cares about you in this time will deal with it in their own way, in their own degree. I still struggle every day. But all I can do is continue to live my life for Allah, and pray.