IQRA Magazine - Fall 2021

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FALL 2021

IQRA MAGAZINE BALANCING CULTURE AND RELIGION


TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Letter From the Editors

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From the Outside Looking In

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I Don’t Need to Belong: A Story of Self-discovery.

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The Villainization of the Hijab

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Anxiety and Religion: The Sense of Belonging

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Two Reverts & Their Reconnection

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The Harmony in Balance

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Masthead


letters from the editors Our Readers, I am incredibly privileged to be a part of a team as talented as IQRA’s. This issue explores the sense of belonging and is a discussion full of difficult conversations yet necessary ones. Ruisi shares the journey of two reverts, Aishah explores difficulties of navigating religion in sports, Ayleen shares a personal story on balancing culture and religion, Farkhounda speaks to university students on the balance of religion and school and Laviza delves into Bill 21. Alongside our amazing graphics and socials teams – Areeba, Nashra, Maryam and Areeja — the entire team was needed to create this magazine. This is my very first year as editor-in-chief and I am so grateful to be working alongside Aishah and Ayleen, our co-managing editors and my IQRA sisters, to do the best we can to bring this issue justice. I am so proud of everyone. Thank you for reading, Sania Ali Dear Reader, I hope the theme for this magazine makes you feel connected to your roots and beliefs. Speaking on my behalf, a sense of belonging has been a major part of my upbringing, and I know it also has been impactful for our writers, interviewees, graphic designers, and team. I hope this magazine edition gives you a sense of belonging to know that you are valid. I also wanted to thank the team for the position of co-managing editor. Thank you for trusting me, and thank you for being an extraordinary group of people who have become like family. You all inspire me with your creativity and drive. I’m proud of you and what we have accomplished. Let us know how you like this edition of IQRA. Happy reading! Ayleen Karamat

Dear Readers, The team at IQRA is incredibly excited to launch into its second year of production with a very special theme. While we have delved into meaningful topics in the past, it was important for us to discuss something we have all grappled with in one way or another: the sense of belonging. Whether it’s wearing the hijab or surviving the difficult journey of reversion, everyone has their personal battles — and it’s time we talk about it. My transition from a writer to my co-managing editor role alongside the brilliant Ayleen Karamat has been an immense honour and pleasure. The privilege of being able to co-lead our dedicated team of writers and graphic designers is gratefully owed to our editor-in-chief, Sania Ali. It has been a wonderful experience working in tandem with the enthusiasm and luminance of the 2021-2022 masthead. We are delighted to share this collective project with our readers and sincerely hope you enjoy the Fall 2021 edition of IQRA Magazine! Sincerely, Aishah Ashraf 2


FROM THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN By: AISHAH ASHRAF There are many aspects of this world where the Muslim community doesn’t exactly “fit in.” Whether that be certain societal traditions or a largely secular-influenced culture, we’re often left out feeling like outsiders. Muslim women, in particular, grapple with their participation in sports where they strive to feel comfortable and accepted. My earliest memory of sports dates back to elementary school. From my short-lived enrollment in the Islamic Soccer League (ISL) and cross country to the basketball team as well as track and field, it was something I heartily enjoyed partaking in. But there were several factors that made me a bit uncomfortable. The basketball team’s uniform, for example, was an oversized short-sleeve coupled with a pair of shorts. While layering the jersey with a long-sleeved top and black tights helped me remain modest, I couldn’t help but feel awkward. As if everyone’s judgemental eyes were on me as the only Muslim girl on the team. Renewing this athletic flare in high school, I regularly participated in intramural sports such as floor hockey and dodgeball but rarely took the chance to try out for teams. Although I fell in love with ultimate frisbee in my freshman year, I refrained from trying out in dread of failure. I pushed through my fears and eventually tried out for ultimate frisbee and flag football in my final year, thanks to a teacher who showed genuine faith in me. One story from my high school ultimate team always sticks with me. The season overlapped into the month of Ramadan, which made it quite difficult to perform my best. I vividly remember playing two back-to-back games one day as I was covered head-to-toe in the scorching heat while fasting. We were down most of our girls that day, so I was put to the task of remaining on the field for the entirety of both matches. It was extremely exhausting, but I played my heart out that day. I was given the chance to take breaks at any given time if I needed to, and it meant the world to feel so understood and accommodated at that moment. There’s a tradition in the world of ultimate where both teams award an MVP and most-spirited from the opposing team. In recognition of my performance that day, I was awarded MVP from both teams, which honestly almost moved me to tears. While I felt as if I was disappointing my team and slowing them down, they acknowledged my circumstances. I was even given the Most Improved Player (MIP) Award at the end of the season and vowed never to let silly fears stop me from accomplishing my goals. Unfortunately, not everyone’s athletic journey is met with ease.

“Some coaches just aren’t familiar with having visibly Muslim athletes, so they don’t know how to deal with it.” Mehnaaz Bholat, a mother-of-three, experienced prejudice when she was a high school student in 2003. Although she grew up playing a slew of sports alongside her brother, one thing they didn’t encounter as an ensemble was mistreatment. It was during a soccer game during the ninth grade that Mehnaaz was restricted from playing until she removed the tights from underneath her shorts like the rest of the girls on the team. She walked away from the field in tears that day prompting a five-year hiatus from sports. 3


When I first heard this story I thought, thank God this system is outdated. Surely, we don’t have instances like this anymore, right? Except, we do. Nearly two decades after Bholat’s violation, high school student Noor Alexandria Abukaram was disqualified from the Ohio district cross-country meet for wearing a hijab. This boundless stigma extends to global institutions such as the International Basketball Federation (FIBA) who established a hijab ban in professional basketball restricting any head covering exceeding five inches. Although this ludicrous verdict was eventually rescinded, due to heavy (and rightful) backlash, it begs the question of why and how it could be proposed in the first place. People may view the hijab as a mere cloth that doubles as an obstacle, but it actually stands for something in Islam. We can’t just “take it off” to suit your convenience. A 2015 article by the BBC highlights that only 17 per cent of Muslim females play sports while that number nearly doubles to 30 per cent of women in general, according to Sport England’s statistics. 19-year-old hijabiathlete Marwa Saleem still feels a “bit off” and finds it helpful bringing a friend to sporting events where she knows there isn’t going to be another hijabi. “It helps me feel more at home,” she adds. There are countless barriers for hijabis and Muslim women athletes that people don’t recognize. From the modesty requirements to often having to play while fasting, “you kind of have to be your own support system sometimes,” says Saleem. “Some coaches just aren’t familiar with having visibly Muslim athletes, so they don’t know how to deal with it.” Following her prolonged hiatus from sports, Bholat was exploring ways to stay active and liberate her competitive energy. She was transported to an entirely new world of sports when she discovered Hijabi Ballers, the non-profit organization dedicated to “celebrating and increasing opportunities for Muslim girls and women in sports.” Founded by Amreen Kadwa, this initiative hopes to enhance the representation of “those who represent their faith while portraying themselves as athletes, in the urban diaspora” through a series of programs and revolutionary endeavours. Based in the Greater Toronto Area, the team collaborated with well-known organizations to create the Toronto Raptors Nike Pro Hijab in September of 2019. Saleem connected with Hijabi Ballers in the tenth grade and was welcomed to participate in the hijab launch video shoot. “All of Toronto came together, and it was really nice to see.” But the response on the Nike Toronto page didn’t reflect the same sentiments as she explains non-Muslims would make terrorist jokes and even some Muslims would complain about the hijab. On the contrary, their work with the Raptors has yielded a positive reaction, “I just wish this response was more like this across Canada.” Bholat became a volunteer and appreciated the team’s efforts in providing women with the opportunity to play sports. “It wasn’t like you had to be amazing or good. It was literally dropin basketball. You didn’t have to be committed, it was very flexible which is great for moms like me.” She has learned so much from the team and encourages women of Toronto to participate and 4


teaches you so much more [than sports]. It teaches you teamwork, it teaches you collaboration and it teaches you communication skills among so many other things.” For Saleem, it helped her not only reach a better place emotionally but build a community where “there’s constant growth with new kinds of opportunities and challenges.” Growing up in a relatively athletic family, she doesn’t ever remember not being around sports. She began sprinting at 10 and stuck with it until the eighth grade when the Olympic Games were taking place. “That’s when I saw another Afghan woman athlete and was able to see myself represented for the first time. That lit a spark within me.” Prior to this, she never considered the possibility of taking her love of the sport to the next level. “But seeing that made me realize that maybe it is something that I can consider.” This spark fuelled her efforts as she now holds the national record for Afghanistan Women’s 100m dash. All it took was one Muslim athlete for Saleem to feel as though her dreams were possible. This is why representation matters. Organizations such as Hijabi Ballers are incredibly integral to the Muslim sports community. Their efforts with weekly drop-in basketball and their abundance of programs are making a sizable transformation. The team’s very own, Fitriya Mohamed, is working hard to inaugurate Toronto’s Muslim Women Summer Basketball League, expected to launch in summer 2021. Saleem hopes Muslim women fight the hardships and thrive in the sports world. “Find what sports you like and pursue them fully. Know that there is a way around every barrier and remain consistent in what you do.” While our community might not exactly “fit in,” we are paving the way for future generations to unapologetically take up space and bring the rest of us to a place of equality. How many more Muslim women could we help if there was simply more representation?

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I DON’T NEED TO BELONG: A STORY OF SELF-DISCOVERY By: AYLEEN KARAMAT According to Merriam-Webster, belonging is the feeling of “being a member of (a particular group or organization).” As humans, we all want to belong somewhere. It’s in our nature to want to be affiliated with and be accepted by members of a specific group whether it’s cliques at school, approval from co-workers, athletic teams or even religious groups. For the longest time in my life, I felt like I didn’t belong in any group, mainly a group of religion. I felt that I was out of place in the world and with the connections I was making. I wondered where this insecurity of mine stemmed from. A year after being born in Lahore, Pakistan, my family and I moved to England. We lived there for five years before later settling down in Canada for seven years. When I was six years old, my parents enrolled me in an Anglican school in the heart of Toronto, where I spent seven great years of my life growing up and building my foundation in life. Those seven years were some of the best ones, filled with incredible memories I would love to relive. I can still imagine my friends and I racing to line up for the lunch line, seeing who would get there first. I can hear the giggles in the library when we found a funny book and the way the bells would chime to tell us to come back from recess. I can feel the excitement knowing that we were having a mufti day soon and I can remember the anticipation of planning playdates with my friends. I learned many things and made some great friends, all of whom I’m lucky to say I still know and talk to till this day. But the one thing this life experience didn’t give me was the understanding of who I really was becoming and where I came from. It was during those years in my life that I realized things were different. I felt like I wasn’t like the other little girls who were in my Anglican school. Growing up, I didn’t fully become aware of my ethnicity and religion till it was blatantly pointed out. I didn’t look like the other little girls, my family had a very different background and I had to take a 14-hour flight just to visit my country. I craved my cultural foods, my accent was out of place and I wanted to bond with someone who knew my mother language. But the biggest difference and the thing about me that was always pointed out was my religious beliefs. Since I studied in an Anglican school, and was the only Muslim student, I felt like I didn’t fit in. I wondered why at friend’s birthday parties I could only eat cheese pizza and not the pepperoni one like everyone else. I would always wonder why my family would celebrate holidays like Eid and not Christmas, and why I had to participate in the annual Christmas play but was probably the only student in that school who didn’t do anything to actually celebrate the holiday. I’m very grateful that my school at the time was a very welcoming environment to learn about religions like Christianity, Judaism and Islam but despite that, I would always have this unreasonable fear and dread entering a church. My school had its own quaint designated church, a five-minute walk from the campus, where we usually went 6


for monthly ceremonies. The glass stained windows and the festivities were always a favourite of many. Another beloved event everyone was excited for every year was the beautiful winter ceremony that parents and families of students were invited to. But for me, it was an odd feeling going into that church. As a Muslim, I thought I was committing a crime by entering and praying in a church. I thought singing hymns and participating in Christian prayers was me betraying my religion in some way. Blame it on the naivety, but hey what can a child who is already struggling with identity understand about religion? I lacked the understanding at that time and became aware that I didn’t know what I believed in.

It felt like my culture didn’t want to include me or accept people who wanted to learn, and used religion to curve people’s behaviours. And then this all changed. When I was 13, my parents and I decided to move back to our hometown of Lahore, Pakistan. The move was because we missed home and acted as a new learning experience for me to understand my background and culture. Four, great but tough, years of school left me with more confusion over my ethnicity and religion than I hoped for. Now my high school experience is a whole other topic I could go into, but to keep it brief, the religion I was taught and was influenced by, in my time in Canada, wasn’t enough for my peers. Confusing right? Let me explain better. My high school experience made me feel like I wasn’t enough despite everything I did and made me more confused about what I should believe in. Maybe that is the society and the culture of Pakistan, a country known not to be very western, but I had my own friends tell me I was being a bad Muslim. Hearing that really hurt me. I remember having a close friend of mine tell me I wasn’t acting like a good Muslim all because I was hanging out with certain people she didn’t like. There were many scenarios like this, and I could go into detail all about it, but the main thing I took away from these situations was how it always made me question what I was doing and whether I truly fit in anywhere. I criticized a lot of what I did and what I wore as if I was doing something wrong instead of realizing that I can’t please everyone. In Canada, I felt like I was too out of place and different to fit in like I was too brown and cultured. Living in Pakistan made me feel like I was “whitewashed,” that I was trying too hard to be a “good” Muslim and that I should resort to acting and pretending to be white. In an ironic way, it was like I was being told to go back to where I came from, despite being born in Pakistan. It felt like my culture didn’t want to include me or accept people who wanted to learn, and used religion to curve people’s behaviours. Being totally candid, my ego was bruised. Knowing I wouldn’t fit into both cultures hurt me in ways I don’t think I could describe. I thought I would be accepted with open arms but in fact, it was the opposite and I wondered where I went wrong. 7


In all honesty, I don’t think I ever will know. After writing this piece and gaining more experience under my belt, I still don’t feel like I fully belong anywhere, but I do realize that who I am and what I believe in doesn’t have to be under anyone else’s discretion.

I don’t need to be a “great” and “perfect” Muslim for God to love me. Heck, I don’t even think I’ve ever met anyone who is perfect enough in their beliefs and that’s life. As a growing person who enjoys learning, being skeptical, making experiences and being educated I am always learning new things about myself and my spirituality. I know I don’t need to be perfect to fit into the perfect group or to someone’s idealist standards. I just wish I had taught myself that a lot sooner— but I know this journey will teach me a lot. Finally surrounding myself with people who can understand my personal journey and my growth has given me a lot of strength and I’ve realized that I’m proud of not knowing where I belong. 8


Islamophobia is real. Racism is real. You should not have to face hate in your communities, in your country. We can and we will act. We can and we will choose a better way.” says Justin Trudeau, Prime Minister.

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THE VILLAINIZATION OF THE HIJAB Who knew a five-letter word could carry such weight? by: laviza syed

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chose to wear the hijab randomly. I walked into my third-grade class with all eyes on me. My elementary school was predominantly white as I distinctly remember being the only hijabi at that time and my parents discouraged me from wearing the hijab so young. In a way, I could see why they would feel the need to protect me; they were aware of the stigmatization and politicization of a hijabi woman’s identity and the extreme consequences that could occur. I have been wearing the hijab for 11 years now and while it has gotten easier for me, the atmosphere and tensions surrounding the hijab have only become increasingly difficult. Canada prides itself on it’s perspective of being a multicultural and all-inclusive society. However, this has been proven to not be the case. The most notable example of this is Québec, which has exhibited anti-Muslim sentiment for decades now. In 2009, a study by The Canadian Review of Sociology found that 68 per cent of Québecois surveyed held an unfavourable view of Islam. These negative beliefs surrounding Muslims have been reinforced by Bill 21 which bans the display of visible religious symbols by public servants in positions of authority. The bill was passed on June 16, 2019, after three previous attempts from the government in the past decade. The courts aim to present this legislation as a way of “religious neutrality” to the province. “A religious symbol is not diversity, it is a religious choice, it is a religious message. In that judgment and in general, there is a tendency in Canada to treat religious signs as an intrinsic part of the body or the person itself,” said Paul St-Pierre Plamondon, Parti Quebecois leader, following a court ruling on Bill 21 in April 2021. Bill 21 has a negative impact on Muslims, especially Muslim women who wear the hijab, and creates an extremely unfair ultimatum - do they observe their religious teachings and leave the workforce, or do they remove their hijab to obtain a job? At first glance, this ruling has an effect on all religions in the same manner. But upon closer inspection, it clearly singles out those who have visible displays of religious values such as Muslims, Jews and Sikhs. While still difficult, it is much easier to take off a necklace or bracelet symbolizing a religion rather than an obligatory item of clothing which also happens to be an integral part of someone’s faith— such as the hijab. This also effectively reduces the number of hijabi Muslim women in Québec’s workforce and contribute to the foundations of structural racism by allowing the advancement of certain groups while restricting others. While discussing Bill 21 in my high school Law class, a student made the argument that the proposal could prove to be more beneficial than harmful by reducing hate crimes. What this student failed to understand is that this bill would not solve the problem of anti-Muslim hate crimes, but rather fuel and enable those ideologies— by erasing Muslim presence and identity. While attacks on Muslims would inevitably decrease if fewer people were visibly Muslim, the effort should be focused on ensuring the safety of Muslims regardless of them being apparent or not. Regardless of that student’s assumptions, racially motivated attacks against Muslims have not abated. 10


The Salman family was a visibly Muslim minority family who was out for an evening stroll near their home in London, Ont. in June of 2021. They were tragically struck by a truck driver in a premeditated act of hate. Four members of the Salman family were killed in this racially motivated attack with the sole survivor being the family’s nine-year-old son. This attack shook the Muslim community to its core and prompted political leaders to speak up against the rampant islamophobia. "Islamophobia is real. Racism is real. You should not have to face hate in your communities, in your country. We can and we will act. We can and we will choose a better way,” said Prime Minister Justin Trudeau at a vigil held for the victims. Other major politicians also attended this vigil and expressed their sympathies. The conversations surrounding the fear that accompanies visible Muslims raises a very important question. What defines a Muslim and what does a Muslim look like apart from the evident hijabis? "I’d like to ask you, my Muslim brothers and sisters, to look over your shoulders on this night. Look at the support, the compassion and the empathy,” London Mayor Ed Holder said. Every Muslim family was faced with the reality that had been swept under Canada’s facade of inclusivity; that Islamophobia was present — in extremely dangerous ways — in our own backyards. Second-year Ryerson student Saarah Riaz, who is a visible Muslim hijabi, was shocked when she heard about the attack. They were one of us. That could have been any one of our families, I know so many Muslim families who go on walks at night just like they did,” said Riaz, through a Zoom interview. “No family should have to face the ultimate consequence for something as simple as going for a walk,” Riaz added. This attack raised concerns about the safety of wearing hijab in public. As a hijabi myself, I couldn't help but wonder if I would be safer without my adornment, but the truth is that my safety shouldn't be compromised at the expense of my faith. Ailiya Raza, also a visibly Muslim hijabi in her second year at Ryerson speaks on her experience with personal safety and the hijab. “I began the hijab in grade 9, a little later than most people I know. I experienced both sides of the spectrum, going from exposure to modesty. The experience allowed me to be definite in my choice for hijab, because there was no internal struggle or feelings of regret. I made the conscious decision to wear it,” she said. When it comes to being visibly Muslim in a big city like Toronto, Raza says she feels at ease. “I feel quite comfortable, because there are many different people. Not necessarily those who look like me, but different altogether, which brings a sense of comfort,” said Raza through a phone interview. Raza added that the Salman family attack is a prime example of how safety issues skyrocket in areas that aren't as ethnically diverse and how the Muslim experience can differ from city to city. “My discomfort begins in areas that are predominantly white, because of the lack of exposure to diversity and religious symbols in those areas. I can never be sure how people will react, and if those reactions will be violent,” says Raza. The conversations surrounding the fear that accompanies visible Muslims raises a very important question. What defines a Muslim and what does a Muslim look like apart from the evident hijabis?

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Since 9/11, Islamaphobic rhetoric has been directed towards Sikhs, Hindus, and anyone with brown or tanned skin, simply because they “look” Muslim. Any type of headwear, a long beard, and visibly eastern-ethnic features all play into this idea of what a Muslim is supposed to look like. Paired with the stereotypes implanted from film and media, racially motivated attacks find the opportunity to thrive. “There doesn’t always have to be this integral and emotional connection with the hijab all the time. I love the hijab and that I wear it, but I only wear it because it's a part of my religion,” says Batool, She adds that hijabis are often the victim of hateful rhetoric as their hijab allows them to be singled out. These misdirected attacks are utterly harmful and demonstrate society's single-minded perspective that views Muslims as a monolith rather than individuals with an array of personal experiences.

“It’s as though hijabis can’t win, no matter what they do,” says Raza. “On one hand, we have people being islamophobic towards Muslim hijabi women for being portrayals of Islam. On the other, we have individuals from our own communities being aggressive if they think hijabis don’t meet their level of modesty,” Raza adds. Their entire identities are politicized when available and tokenized when favourable. The struggle for Muslims to establish a secure sense of belonging in a country that works against them and takes no measurable acts for their safety is continuously overlooked. I myself have had instances where the hijab feels like a burden instead of a blessing. But this insecurity is one I deal with internally and grow with on my journey in religion. No hijabi should be carrying the weight of racially motivated attacks every time they leave the house and must be awarded their fundamental right to practice their beliefs in the manner they see fit, without fear of brutality.

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Anxiety and Religion: The Sense of Belonging By: Sania Ali Salah or Salat is the Arabic term for the ritual prayer that is the second pillar of Islam and obligatory among Muslims to complete five times a day. The importance of prayer falls upon the objective to achieve Taqwa, or ‘closeness to God’ as it carries many other benefits as well. Although prayer is an important part of the religion-- many Muslims, including myself, often struggle with completing it throughout the day. When the lives of individuals are faced with new jobs, new semester schedules or day trips out of town, they’re usually full of uninterrupted excitement. I’m almost always excited too, but the looming feeling of anxiety is almost always present at the back of my mind. To be fair— my struggle with anxiety plays a big factor in the way I go about religion— there are always negatives and positives that play a role. The positives are that I tend to revolve my life around religion, I’m left overthinking about what’s important to me and I don’t fall victim to peer pressure due to the constant overanalyzing. The negatives are that I make day-to-day activities difficult through the cycle of overthinking—asking myself where and when I could pray, weighing whether or not I would fit in certain plans with friends— can be the centre of my overthinking at times. The pandemic had inevitably given everyone a glimpse of life living at home, impacting arguably my most impressionable years— my high school graduation and first year of university— giving me a sense of comfortability of being at home. At home, I could finish my online classes, pray my prayers on time and the year offline gave me the opportunity to practise wearing the hijab, something I’ve wanted to do for years. The part time-job I started in September was one of my first big integrations back to the in-person experience, alongside commuting downtown for my in-person class once a week. Almost immediately, I found myself grappling with anxiety over where and when I could complete my daily prayers. I’m gonna be honest, I’m not perfect when it comes to my prayers, but praying outside of the comfort of my home was intimidating, and I was nervous about what the people around me would think. I would tell my friends at university that I needed to meet with someone, or I needed to pick something up, just so I could come up with a feasible excuse to escape for five minutes and pray. When it came to my part-time job, I would skip lunch and rush to my car to pray on my fifteen-minute break. I would ask myself almost all the time if it was worth it. Was it worth doing the extra labour just so I could complete my prayers? I thought about skipping them too, but it wasn’t the obligation of these prayers or even the guilt that stopped me from doing so. It was the surprising peace I felt every time I had made time to pray. Taking time out of my busy day to spend a few minutes practising my religion was something I never regretted. When I had a million other things on my mind, praying grounded me.

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People often compare praying to meditation. Meditation is scientifically proven to reduce stress, control anxiety and it’s encouraged to meditate daily if possible. For Muslims, we have five obligatory prayers that are spread out throughout the day. Although these prayers are meant to give us time with our Lord, it also holds a number of benefits for ourselves, such as increasing relaxation, acting as a coping mechanism and helping with mental health. I heard someone say that Islam is easy, but it’s the people who make it hard. I didn’t understand this for a long time because for me the religious anxiety that came with taking steps towards being a stronger Muslim was extremely difficult in addition to my overthinking habits.

“Without doubt, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find satisfaction.” (Qur’an 13:28) “Allah intends for you ease and does not intend for you hardship.” (Qur’an, 2:185) Even around other Muslims, I found myself having trouble communicating the anxiety I felt around practising something that was important to me. I didn’t want to come across as ‘different,’ and I just found it easier to spend a lot more time by myself because of this. But then, daylight savings came around. An hour back in time meant that I would have to walk to my car in the dark, and the labour that came with practising my prayers was getting to me. As a result, I had asked my manager if I could pray in the fitting room and to my surprise, she was overjoyed that I had asked. This interaction had changed my perception of the way I viewed prayers, it didn’t seem like an unnecessary burden but a right that I had. Prayers were important to me, religion was important to me, and it shouldn’t be something to be embarrassed about. I recently heard a quote that went, “those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind,” and it stuck with me. I had spent so much time alone gambling on the tiny chance that I was making other people uncomfortable by just conveying that I needed a minute to practise something important to me-- and I did just that. I had booked study rooms on campus that I could go to and practise my prayers and made it something that was important to me. Instead of shoving prayers in the middle of my plans, I had begun planning my plans around my prayers. I often ponder on the situations that could theoretically prevent me from completing my prayers, and it’s almost always the result of overthinking. Where would I be able to pray? How would I explain it? When I find myself questioning my right to practise, I remind myself of the core beliefs of Islam; the five pillars that frame a Muslim and how prayer is the second. This is something that is important to me as an individual, I shouldn’t have to explain why and my acceptance towards the beliefs of others deserve to be reciprocated. It becomes a lot easier to accommodate something when you make it important to you-- because, at the end of the day, the only person’s opinion you should really care about is yourself. “Without doubt, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find satisfaction.” (Qur’an 13:28).

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Two Reverts & their Reconnection By Ruisi Liu

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o embrace Islam, to ‘convert’ or ‘revert’ to this Abrahamic religion is an emotional and life-altering experience for many brothers and sisters. The experience is both beautiful and terrifying, not suited for the faint-hearted. For those whose pains are alleviated through nourishing hot tears at the mercy of our Creator, they accept the Shahada with courage and trust in the unseen. To become undone, to become vulnerable and commit to changing, to know that He is closer to us than we are to our own jugular vein (Quran 50:16). These are only the start to a lifelong journey of divine love.

“Goodness towards the parents is an indication of a person’s excellent cognizance of Allah.” Islam upholds the role of one’s parents to the highest respects. There is no doubt that kindness to our guardians is a virtue of a believer, but what if the very belief itself — to identify as a servant of Allah (S.W.T.) — inevitably places a wedge between the parent-child connection? And even worse - that being ‘Muslim’ also means an end to our friendships, relationships, and professional lives? Such anxious thoughts do not belong in the healthy soil of our hearts, and Muslims must remember that Allah will never remove important connections from our lives unless they were never meant to stay. It is He that tested people of Musa (A.S) with floods that demolished their homes, swarms of locusts that devoured their food, pestilence of lice to make their lives challenging. Trust that for us too, He will prepare tests to strengthen our faith: perhaps the temporary fraying of a relationship, difficulty praying salat, discomfort wearing the hijab, and anything that makes us question again and again, what we’re doing all of this for. For the two revert sisters Ivy Sainthill and Jessica McGinley, their journey to Islam changed their lives for the better. 19-year-old Ivy Sainthill currently works as a florist in Mississauga. Two years before graduating from her high school in Ottawa, her Muslim friends brought her to an Islamic lecture at Carleton University. The lecture surprised her: the Imam talked about how science and religion went hand-in-hand: to which Ivy thought were ultimately ‘separate.’ Still, a skeptic, she came to the Qur’an with the same mindset as she did with the Bible: “Religion is fake, there is no way I could be a Muslim because Islam is dangerous.” After reading the entire book, she began to feel her heart warm to it. However, the internet was a poor place to get in-context answers so she spoke to Imams who helped answer the burning misconceptions that she had. “I had so many questions, like the pedophilia myth and the idea of jihad. When I got my answers, I finally understood how misunderstood I was. There’s also that rumor about Muslims being against ‘infidels’...” Ivy also couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never even heard of the word ‘infidel’ in my life.” Before accepting Islam, she wore the hijab here and there to practice it. What began as a covering she'd exclusively wear to the mosque to becoming a standard part of her routine, she quickly/eventually found herself surrounded by a group of eager sisters who witnessed her Shahada.... First, she wore it only to the mosque, then eventually to outings. Soon, she found herself surrounded by a group of eager sisters who witnessed her Shahada at a mosque, and taught her the Salat prayer for the first time. When she slowly gained her confidence, she began to wear it to her job at the bakery section in FarmBoy. Her boss was accepting of this transition. Yet still, her parents did not know. 15


Ivy felt so safe with Allah (S.W.T.) as her only guide. She was wearing the hijab, reading the Qur’an and trying to pray every day: but it was a double identity. In her non-practicing Catholic home, her mother thought that her daughter wouldn’t bat an eye at religion - let alone the ‘strictest’ one. “I remember pulling out a prayer Wikihow article, then I hid in my bathroom and prayed in secret. I was really nervous, I didn’t know what I was doing, but it was so peaceful.” Ivy had to keep it a secret, because she had no choice. “I wasn’t prepared to tell them. At that point, I didn’t know enough and I couldn’t answer their questions.” One day while Ivy was at her job on Thanksgiving weekend, her mother came into the store to surprise her with an impromptu visit. Her mother became upset upon seeing her daughter with the hijab — hardly recognizable.“She was so angry. I felt like I ruined Thanksgiving.” The difficulty persisted, but Ivy’s faith was strong. As time went on, Allah (s.w.t) eased her affairs and allowed her parents to become more accepting. Imam Omar Patel, a Registered Psychotherapist in Toronto, says that this is a common phenomenon for reverts. “One of the biggest challenges is family. What does it mean for one’s family to abandon the tradition of one’s ancestors? ‘If I passed away, what would my death mean to my family? How can I pray in my home if my family doesn’t know I’m Muslim?’ There is a huge struggle.” Imam Patel goes on to explain how this lack of familial support leads to a sense of loneliness for those who come into Islam. For some there is embracement, but that feeling may slowly fade to alienation if one falls out of touch with a community. “I was confused quite often, because I didn’t know credible sources. I was searching Wikipedia. I was getting loads of hadiths that were giving me terrible things about the Prophet (pbuh).” Imam Patel recommends new Muslims to stay away from the internet for as long as possible: “Your spirit and mind are so fresh, and you want to be the best Muslim you can be,” he says. “But if you go on the internet, you can misinterpret portions of the religion. Rigidity is not part of our faith. Simplicity is. Our deen, way of life, is passed down from heart to heart. Islam is an oral tradition. The Prophet (pbuh) was illiterate and came to emotional intelligence, and learning from the angel Gabriel, and then teaching companions. You may keep finding things on websites that can confuse you”. Similar to Ivy, Jessica’s skepticism led her to learn more about faith and fall in love with Islam. “Growing up, I mentally didn’t want to be among those types of people that were brainwashed by religion. I wanted to be objective all the time. The more that I read, the more I understood that science and religion went hand-in-hand.” Imam Patel recommends new Muslims to stay away from the internet for as long as possible: “Your spirit and mind are so fresh, and you want to be the best Muslim you can be,” he says. “But if you go on the internet, you can misinterpret portions of the religion. Rigidity is not part of our faith. Simplicity is. Our deen, way of life, is passed down from heart to heart. Islam is an oral tradition. The Prophet (pbuh) was illiterate and came to emotional intelligence, and learning from the angel Gabriel, and then teaching companions. You may keep finding things on websites that can confuse you”. Over time, both Ivy and Jessica have found ease in their situation. They have made peace with their families, and have become stronger through their struggles.

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Similar to Ivy, Jessica’s skepticism led her to learn more about faith and fall in love with Islam. “Growing up, I mentally didn’t want to be among those types of people that were brainwashed by religion. I wanted to be objective all the time. The more that I read, the more I understood that science and religion went hand-in-hand.” Over time, both Ivy and Jessica have found ease in their situation. They have made peace with their families, and have become stronger through their struggles. Jessica advises new reverts to understand the different School of Thought instead of only observing how other Muslims practice. “When it comes to researching and trying to understand islam, dont look at the way people practice. You have to refer to scholars and see what they say. Yes, scholars are people, and everyone is imperfect. But it’s better to look towards people who have been practicing a school of thought for years on end.”Ivy recommends new Muslims to not automatically adopt every middle eastern culture as Islamic. Some practices, like belly dancing and smoking ‘Shisha’ - are cultural, and not religious. And finally, Imam Patel reminds that there is no rush, and always room for growth. “One thing to remember is that we cannot lose hope in the mercy of Allah (S.W.T.). Losing hope in the mercy of Allah (S.W.T) means you aren’t practicing Islam right. As muslims we strive for perfection. We should love, embrace and care for the ones who are new to the community” However, just as harsh winds help trees develop stronger roots, Allah sends blessings in disguise for every trouble that believers face.

The Prophet (PBUH) said, “No distress befalls a Muslim, even if were the prick he receives from a thorn, but Allah expiates some of his sins for that.” (Sahih al-Bukhari 5641, 5642)

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The Harmony in Balance University students express the lessons THEY learned when balancing life and religion. by: Farkhounda Azizullah

Feeling a sense of belonging can be difficult; sometimes the obstacles that arise in this balance teaches you new things about who you want to be in your life

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rowing up in a western culture can bring new perspectives and challenges for students who practice religion. University Students have found some hardships when it comes to belonging to their faith and their school community. However, there have been some positive lessons from coping with this balance.I interviewed two University students who discussed their experiences with balancing their lives in western society and their journey with faith. Second-year social science student at McMaster University, Andesha Baksh, discusses her experience with making time for faith while living on her own near campus. “Some ways I balance my religious life is setting out time for when I have to do prayer and booking my school time around the 10 minutes I need in a day just for my prayers,” said Baksh. Sarah Saifi, a second-year political science student at Ryerson University, also describes her day-to-day schedule with this balance. “If I am at school, the mall, or if I’m out somewhere, I usually just find a quiet place or my car is usually another good mobile spot that I’ll kind of seclude 10 minutes for myself and perform my prayer,” said Saifi. Despite the effort to remain balanced, students still face difficulties in their environments when it comes to influences in western society. “Some difficulties I face is the lifestyle here and how the Muslim lifestyle isn’t as common even though there are a lot of Muslims here in Canada. It’s not very represented in, for example TV shows and movies, in the media, so you feel very lonely,” said Baksh. Living in western society can make it difficult to practice your religion without fear of judgment. Saifi discussed this with her journey to wear a hijab. “It’s is inspiring to see women who are able to dress that way and it’s a big goal for me at some point in my life...I feel like if I were to put on a long dress or put on a hijab, make that a part of my identity then society will look at me differently and potentially not treat me as so I’m treated today,” says Saifi, “hate crimes are a very big fear that a lot of individuals that are dressed modestly in my religion face.” While finding time for religious practice with the internal difficulties students face, some students have brought their religion into their school lives in order to create a new kind of balance in life. Saifi says that she carries her faith with her and when she is about to do an exam or presentation she will recite a personal prayer before and keep God in her mind, which helps her educational performance. Practicing their religion has also highlighted benefits that appear within their careers. Baksh discussed how she uses her faith to help her in the social work field. “Faith is really useful to me because in social work it’s a lot about intuition and what you need to do in the moment for the best of other people,” Baksh says,“Faith helps me because it helps me make my decision more clear in my head, it gives me a rock to lean on when the emotional part of my job is getting too much for me and I need something else to help me get through my career.” 18


Growing up in an environment where you are not constantly surrounded by people like you can cause struggles with finding your place, but this hardship can give you new knowledge about the world. The students discuss how growing up in this society has benefited them with new perspectives about their faith, surroundings, and lifestyle. “Growing up religious in a western culture makes you more aware of other people's background, different perspectives people have on certain topics and makes you want to be more inclusive and kind to people; because we don’t know what other people face when it comes to faith or religion or anything pertaining to that. Religion helps keep you balanced,” said Baksh. It's a reminder to Baksh and Saifi that learning how to create balance has taught them how to understand others and how to act in society. Developing this belonging in faith and school life has helped the students learn more about themselves and others, while also being able to share their experience. Saifi addresses the feeling of fulfillment when she gets to talk about her practices like fasting and praying daily to her peers who are not Muslim,“When they witness me performing that prayer when they ask me, “not even water?” It’s very delightful to educate them on what it is exactly I am doing or what it is I’m practicing and the curiosity in their faces, the way they are interested to know that is also another super good experience.” Feeling a sense of belonging can be difficult; sometimes the obstacles that arise in this balance teaches you new things about who you want to be in your life. You learn how to bring everything together so that you can truly feel fulfillment and create a religious-life balance that overtime becomes a lifestyle. If you are struggling with finding this peace, remember that many students are going through the same thing and with courage- you will also be able to find your sense of belonging. 19


MASTHEAD Editor-in-Chief Sania Ali

Social Media Manager Areeba Khan

Co-Managing Editor Ayleen Karamat

Social Media Assistant Areeja Saqib

Co-Managing Editor Aishah Ashraf

Website Developer & Lead Graphic Designer Nashra Syed

Writer Ruisi Liu

Graphic Designer Maryam Rasheed

Writer Farkhounda Azizullah Writer Laviza Syed

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