“Oh, Teddy’s just attached to his mother,” Ronald Blackman said, his brown eyes visible next to his laugh lines in the rearview mirror as he glanced at his son who sat behind him.
Abdur-Rahman smiled, shook his head, and glanced out the Range Rover’s side window from where he sat behind the driver’s seat. Ismael sat next to Ronald in the front, and Sulayman sat behind Ismael opposite Abdur-Rahman in the back. Ronald knew how to thoroughly embarrass his son, but Abdur-Rahman knew it was harmless fun, at least in his father’s view. Still Abdur-Rahman couldn’t help feeling that sometimes his father went overboard. Ismael’s inquiry to Ronald, and indirectly to Abdur-Rahman, about his son getting married was more polite conversation than sincere interest, but Abdur-Rahman still felt uncomfortable with his father’s reply. Although Ronald was joking, Abdur-Rahman feared that similar jokes, if repeated often enough, would give Muslim women a negative image of him. Abdur-Rahman didn’t mind women assessing him first-hand and concluding that he was weird, but he found it difficult to accept them drawing a similar conclusion from hearsay, especially if his father was partly to blame.
“How old are you?” Ismael turned his head toward his shoulder to look at Abdur-Rahman, a look of amusement on his face.
“He’s twenty-nine,” his father said before Abdur-Rahman could respond. “Going on nineteen.”
Ronald and Ismael laughed, but for the brief moment Ismael and Abdur-Rahman made eye contact, Abdur-Rahman knew Ismael was not laughing whole-heartedly. It was as if he sensed, in that brief glance, that Ronald’s son was not enjoying this conversation as much as his father.
“Being attached to your mother is good,” Ismael said.
“Oh, I agree,” Ronald said with a laugh. “But finding a good woman is more important at this age. Isn’t that right, son?”
Abdur-Rahman met the reflection of his father’s eyes with a forced smile then returned his attention to the cars passing on the interstate. Although his father really knew how to get under his skin, Abdur-Rahman savored the opportunity to be in his father’s company.
Ronald was home from one of his book assignments, having arrived Thursday night to spend the last two weeks of June and the first week of July with his family before traveling again, and Faith thought Saturday was a good opportunity for Sarah’s family to meet him. They had decided that it was best for the women and men to have their separate outings, and the families of Ismael and Sulayman had stayed home with Faith for dinner while Ronald took the men out to a nice restaurant. Of course, Abdur-Rahman could not bring his pets along, so his mother had promised that she and the women would pet-sit them that night, although all that meant was the cages would sit on a nearby table in the room in which the women sat. Abdur-Rahman didn’t like keeping Freddie, Freda, and Charlie behind bars. In his room, they were free to roam and fly. But his mother had drawn the line there. She didn’t like the idea of birds and “rodents” having free reign of her home. So he had no choice but to imprison them when he greeted company or left them at home without him. He was grateful that his self-owned business afforded him the opportunity to bring them along to the pet store. Otherwise, he would have to get a pet sitter himself everyday.
“Finding a good woman is hard,” Ismael said.
“Teddy doesn’t have any problem attracting women.”
Abdur-Rahman met his father’s gaze in the rearview mirror just as his father winked at him. “Dad, please.”
“No, tell the truth, son. Women flood Pet Oasis by the dozens carrying wounded pets. I bet some of them injure the animals themselves to get a good two-minute consultation from Dr. Pet.”
He laughed beside himself. “I run a pet store, Dad, not a veterinarian clinic.”
“That’s precisely my point, son. They want to listen to you sympathize long enough to tell them that.”
Abdur-Rahman saw Ismael trying to suppress laughter. Even Sulayman, who had tried to remain stoic throughout Ronald’s torment of his son, could not keep from grinning.
“That’s the thing about women, Teddy. They’ll feign pet injuries, and even terminal illnesses, if it means you’ll give them a concerned shake of the head and a phone call to follow up.”
They all broke out in a laugh, although Abdur-Rahman’s was more of a chuckle.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Oh, you don’t?” He could see his father’s eyes widened playfully in the horizontal mirror. “I thought Sam taught you that.”
Abdur-Rahman stared at the reflection, hoping his father would not tread the sensitive subject. Samantha was the last person he wanted to talk about right then. He had wasted seven years of his life on her, and he didn’t want to be reminded of that. To Abdur-Rahman, Sam was the exception. Most women would not try to take advantage of a man’s kindness like she did.
“Sam’s a good friend?” It was apparent that Ismael thought Sam was a male friend of Abdur-Rahman’s.
“Samantha,” Abdur-Rahman corrected, fearing that with his father present his silence was more damaging than words. “An ex-girlfriend. Emphasis on the ex.”
“Well, you do learn a lot about women from women.” Abdur-Rahman was grateful to Ismael for his comment. He feared if Ismael remained silent, his father would resume his exposé of Teddy’s life before Islam.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” Ronald agreed as the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of a gas pump. He wedged a hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, lifting himself from the seat. “There’s nothing like knowledge from experience. Though I prefer Jerry Springer myself.”
Ismael laughed, and Abdur-Rahman and Sulayman looked at each other before shaking their heads, humored. It was hard to stay upset with his father for too long, and Abdur-Rahman found himself feeling grateful for this outing. Moments like these, Abdur-Rahman wished he could travel more often with his father, but he could not successfully run his store and pet consulting business if he was gone often. But his heart was in traveling, and he hoped to generate enough gross income to allow him to delegate the manager-supervisor role to someone else.
Ronald opened the storage compartment next to his seat when he didn’t find his wallet in his pocket, and he rummaged through the items there before closing it. He pointed to the glove compartment.
“You mind seeing if my wallet is in there?”
Ismael opened the compartment and peered in. He moved some papers around before Ronald reached over the brother to check himself.
“I can pay,” Ismael said when Ronald shut the small door and cursed.
“No, no.” Ronald shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. Tonight is my treat.”
“You forgot your wallet?” Abdur-Rahman said.
“Looks like it.”
“I have my Visa.”
“You mind?”
“It’s no problem.” Abdur-Rahman opened the car door and climbed out. He inserted his credit card into the machine before he began pumping gas. He locked the pump in place then folded his arms across his chest as he watched the digital numbers change rapidly calculating the price. He knew his father was upset with himself for leaving his wallet at home, and he imagined he would circle back home to get it even though they had already been driving for more than fifteen minutes.
“I appreciate it, son,” Ronald said after Abdur-Rahman returned to the car and he began to pull off. “I guess this is my punishment for giving you a hard time.”
Abdur-Rahman’s shoulders moved in quiet laughter.
“I apologize.” Ronald turned to Ismael. “But I’m going to go back for my wallet. I don’t think the restaurant will take my word that I’ll pay them back.”
“You don’t have to go through all that,” Ismael said. “It’s really no problem if—”
“Nonsense. I offered to treat, and treat I will.”
“Dad, I don’t mind—”
“I’m not taking charity tonight, Teddy. Gas is different.” The laugh lines became more defined in the mirror. “I wouldn’t want us to walk.”
“But our reservation is—”
“Oh, Bob wouldn’t give it away. You can count on that.”
Abdur-Rahman resigned himself to the fact that they would be in the car for at least another forty minutes.
“Why do you live at home?” Ismael asked a few minutes later.
Abdur-Rahman was grateful for the inquiry, knowing it was only asked to pass time, if not to make up for Ronald’s embarrassing comments for which Ismael most likely blamed himself. “After everything was over with Sam,” he said, “I missed my mother and decided I wanted to spend more time with her.”
“Heartbreak,” Ronald cut in.
His son nodded with a defeated smile. “Yes, heartbreak, something only a mother can fix.”
Abdur-Rahman saw Ismael look out the side window, and he sensed he had broached a sensitive subject. He wondered if Ismael had lost his mother recently.
“Anyway,” Abdur-Rahman continued, “I couldn’t live in the condo anymore.”
“You had a condo?” Ismael’s voice had changed to polite disinterest, and he continued to look out the passenger side window.
“Sam and I bought one together.”
“So you were pretty serious about her?”
“Yes,” Abdur-Rahman said, looking out his own window now. “I was.”
“On cloud nine,” Ronald put in.
“Not exactly,” his son said, void of enthusiasm.
“But he’s moving on,” Ronald said, turning to Ismael briefly, as if he were reporting on his son’s marked improvement in health. “Faith tells me a beautiful woman came to visit while I was away, and Abdur-Rahman was hooked.” He chuckled. “Even got up the nerve to ask about her.”
“MashaAllaah.” Ismael glanced at Ronald then to Abdur-Rahman, smiling for the first time since Abdur-Rahman’s comment about his mother. “Was she Muslim?”
“Oh, yes,” Ronald said. “Faith says Teddy’s pretty headstrong about that one.”
“That’s good. Having the same religion as your partner is very important.”
“Well, I don’t know if we can call her his partner. Turns out, the woman is already taken.”
“That’s a hard one.”
“Yes, I know,” Ronald said, glancing in the rearview mirror again. “But there are more fish in the sea. Right, Teddy?”
Abdur-Rahman saw Sulayman smile sympathetically at him, but he only glanced at the brother with a faint smile on his face. “That’s right dad.” He sounded drained from the attention and hoped for a change in subject.
Ronald turned to Ismael. “Faith tells me you have a daughter. She said your wife mentioned her a few times.”
Embarrassed, Abdur-Rahman wanted to interrupt, but Ismael was already responding.
“Yes, we do have a daughter,” Ismael said slowly, as if he were uncomfortable with the idea. Or unsure how to say this without offending anyone. “But she’s not available, for the time being.”
Ronald sucked his teeth as he shook his head, meeting his son’s gaze in the mirror again. “Strike two, son. One more strike, and,” he grinned, “well, you know.”
Abdur-Rahman was relieved when they pulled into the driveway of their home, and he really didn’t mind getting his father’s wallet when he asked him.
“Don’t scare the ladies, son,” Ronald said as Abdur-Rahman was getting out of the car. “Let ‘em know you’re coming in before you do.”
Abdur-Rahman nodded as he shut the door, relieved to be outside in the night alone ascending the walkway leading to the front door. The car had become suffocating, and he feared he would not be able to last much longer under his father’s good fun. He knew that beneath his father’s jokes was a sincere concern for his well-being, and he appreciated his father for that. But publicly referring to his mother’s mention of Aminah for him had disturbed him more than he could bear. He already felt humiliated by the way Aminah had treated him when they first met, as if he were some circus sideshow she was forced to watch. Abdur-Rahman could almost hear her silent prayers that he wouldn’t come too close when he had introduced himself with a pet cage in either hand. He knew part of that was because she was a Muslim woman who actually respected Islam’s limits on male-female interaction, and he couldn’t help admiring her, and her family, for that. But he sensed part of it was also due to her finding Abdur-Rahman himself so anomalous, most likely because of the animals he carried at his sides.
Theodore had never had the confidence of his peers when it came to women, and in high school he had been coined a freak. It was not open taunting that made him aware of their label, but the way the popular boys and girls would don an artificial cordiality whenever he passed them in the halls. Girls would pretend to like him so that they could use him to cheat on homework assignments and exams. Although Theodore was well aware of their motives, in his naïve optimism he had hoped that after talking to him they would come to realize he was a likeable person after all.
Samantha was the first girl who actually seemed to like him for who he was, but he was not experienced enough to know that being a nice guy was synonymous with pushover for a woman like Sam. It was naïveté that made him think they would get married, have children, and live happily ever after one day. But two years of being in the same home made it clear that Theodore was just Sam’s walking mat, if not springboard to better things. It still hurt him to think that she was not what he thought. She had treated him like no one had before and had not even shown discomfort upon meeting him for the first time.
He slid his key into the front door, accepting that it was his abnormal love for animals that had turned Aminah off, and he feared her uneasiness represented what other Muslim women would think. But Alika had not displayed the same discomfort when he introduced his animals, and in that moment Alika reminded him so much of Sam when they first met.
What’s so wrong with loving animals? he thought as he opened the front door and stepped inside. The sound of the women’s loud laughter rose, and it was apparent they were all downstairs, which was a relief to Abdur-Rahman, who was lost in his thoughts. Allah, Ar-Rahmaan, created animals and commanded Muslims to treat them well. Why then was he beginning to sense he would be an outcast for that love? Suddenly, he missed Freddie and Freda, and Charlie, and he wanted to check on them right then. He shut the front door behind him, and stepped into the living room to see if their cages were still there. Startled, he halted his steps as he saw the birdcage on the couch and the back of a khimaar and abiya—a woman knelt before them. She was talking, a finger wedged into the opening where she touched Freda’s beak.
“—what I mean, don’t you?” the woman said. “You must know what I mean. I can see it. You have all these colors, so you have to know how it feels.” The woman forced laughter. “But you know what? I have the same colors, but they’re all inside. Yes, you must be Freda. You’re so beautiful. I wish I could be you. Then no one would care. Then no one would—”
“As-salaamu’alaikum.”
At the sound of his voice, the woman jumped to her feet and turned to face Abdur-Rahman with widened eyes. As they recognized each other, Aminah’s cheeks colored and she lowered her gaze, quickly picking up the cage by the handle although she didn’t seem to know what to do after that.
“It’s okay,” Abdur-Rahman said, lowering his gaze himself. “I was just, uh, coming to check on them.” He paused. “Do you know where Charlie is?”
“Downstairs,” she said quickly, in a hurry to go herself. The sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen told Abdur-Rahman that the maid was still preparing their meal, and the now louder laughter from downstairs told him that everyone else, except Ismael’s daughter, was with his mother in the sitting room.
“I just, um,” Aminah said, “was coming to get Fred—the birds.”
He nodded, and his heart was racing. The maid appeared in the living room a second later, apparently concerned by the sound of a strange voice. But Theresa returned to the kitchen upon seeing that it was just Teddy.
“It’s fine.” He started to reach for the cage then remembered he couldn’t take the cage from her, not without making her more uncomfortable. So he resigned himself to studying Freddie and Freda for the moment and marveled at how relaxed they seemed under Aminah’s care.
“I was just going, anyway,” he said, now turning and pointing toward the steps that led to the upper level. “My dad forgot his wallet.”
When Aminah didn’t say anything, he hesitated for a second before ascending the stairs. He willed himself not to turn and look as he heard her hurry from the living room and go downstairs to join the other guests.
In his parents’ room, he found his father’s wallet on the nightstand next to their bed. He picked it up and pushed it into the pocket of his tan slacks, pausing as he recovered from what had just occurred. His heart was still racing as he left the room and closed the door, and he let each foot rest on the carpeted steps as he descended the stairs, distracted by his thoughts. What was Aminah talking about to Freda, and why was she saying she wished she were colorful and beautiful like his bird?
Outside, the Range Rover’s headlights glowed in the driveway as he headed toward it. The night suddenly felt calm, and he felt the trace of an amused smile on his face as he climbed into the truck. He handed his father the wallet, and he actually smiled back when he saw the laugh lines of his father’s eyes crease in the mirror, a warning sign that his father was going to continue to embarrass him that night.
“Thanks, son,” Ronald said then turned to Ismael. “Or, what is it? JazaakAllahukhair.”
Ismael smiled over his shoulder at Abdur-Rahman. “It means may Allah reward you.”
Abdur-Rahman nodded gratefully although he already knew the expression and what it meant.
“Yes, may Allah reward you,” Ronald agreed. He paused before adding with a grin in the rearview mirror, “With a beautiful Muslim wife.”
“Ameen,” Ismael said. Even Sulayman nodded and grinned at Abdur-Rahman, and Abdur-Rahman grinned too.
“Ameen,” he said, staring out the car’s window, wondering if his father’s lost wallet was Allah’s way of showing him the miracle of a changed heart. If so, he knew it wasn’t only Aminah’s heart that had changed. But his too. At that moment, he felt that Allah had shown him his future wife. He hoped his feeling was correct. He had been wrong with Sam, but he wondered if it were possible to be wrong twice, and for the second time in a row. Strike two?
No, he planned to hit a homerun.
“Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Aminah’s mother said upon her daughter’s return to where they were sitting downstairs waiting for Theresa to finish setting the table for the meal.
Aminah set the birdcage on a table and found a place on the far side of the couch on which Tamika sat at the other end. Aminah could sense Tamika’s concern, a cup of juice in hand with her forehead creased and her eyes studying Aminah.
“That would explain what took her so long,” Tamika said, but her words didn’t come out as the joke Aminah sensed her sister-in-law was trying to make.
“What did you see?” Sarah asked, a trace of laughter in her voice.
“Abdur-Rahman,” Aminah said finally, looking at her mother right then.
“Teddy?” Faith gathered her eyebrows.
“Yes,” Aminah said, now looking at her mother’s friend. “He came to check on the birds.”
Faith laughed. “On the birds?”
“And Charlie.”
They laughed, but Aminah couldn’t bring herself to.
“Why would they come all the way back home for that?” Faith’s forehead was creased, even as she recovered from laughter.
“I think your husband forgot his wallet.”
Her forehead relaxed and she nodded. “Well, that’s definitely Ron.”
“Are they still here?” Tamika’s concern was for being uncovered. She, like Faith and Sarah, had removed her khimaar and abiya, something Aminah knew she would be unable to do for the rest of the night.
Aminah shook her head. “I heard the door shut after I came downstairs.”
“Well,” Faith said, grinning, “that would definitely explain the ghost.”
Aminah forced a smile, but she knew her cheeks were still pink from shock.
“Don’t worry,” Faith said, “you were covered.”
Aminah nodded. “Yes, that’s true.” But she didn’t want to say that that wasn’t the reason she was so shaken. Yes, thank God, she was covered. But even in her Islamic attire she had made a complete fool of herself. She was talking to a bird, his bird. She wanted to sink through the floor right then.
Faith had been about to call Theresa to bring the birdcage downstairs when Aminah volunteered to get it. Aminah wanted to take a break from the laughing and talking in any case. She was not in the mood for the visit, but her mother had told her to come. Faith had even invited Tamika, Sarah had said, and how would that look for Aminah to stay home? Reluctantly, Aminah agreed, but she was sullen the entire drive there. Her mind was on Zaid and Zahra, the latter of whom Tamika had gotten a chance to speak to. Zahra had been straightforward, Tamika later relayed to Aminah, telling her that the family was very much against the marriage but they didn’t yet know of Zaid’s trip to the Ali residence. When Tamika had asked what Zahra felt, Tamika said Zahra was quiet but then went on to explain, in all words, that she too thought it wasn’t the best idea. Having an American in the family was “nice”, but she was reluctant to say it would be nice for them.
Aminah wasn’t bothered by the family of Zaid refusing to support him, but she was bothered by Zahra’s position. She was further disturbed by their reluctance to accept an “American” into the family. This piece of information only added salt to her wounds and inspired more confusion regarding the racial dissonance she was just beginning to come to terms with for herself. She was thinking she would go ahead and marry the brother, if for no other reason than he was striving to please Allah. If he liked white skin, well then, what could she say? Her skin was white. She could not continue to torment herself about colonial mentality.
When she had gone upstairs to get the birds, the quiet living room and the distant sound of the women’s laughter was intoxicating, and she had sat on the couch to relax for a minute. The sounds of chirping and wing fluttering made her lift her head to where the cage sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. In that moment, she saw the innocence of the birds’ existence, and she longed for their carefree world to be hers. She stood and picked up the cage and she set it on the sofa where she had been sitting. The beauty of the birds made her smile and she knelt to gaze at them for a moment, and the sight of their beautiful colors made her conscious of her colorless skin. She began talking to them playfully, finding comfort in their company, away from the stressful world in which she lived. She found herself understanding how a man could think of them as friends. She began to share with them her reflections on human beauty and was talking about herself when she heard a man’s voice behind her, sending her to her feet, her heart racing in fear and shock.
When she saw it was Abdur-Rahman, she was mortified beyond belief. There she was kneeling before the birdcage talking to Freda as if it were her mother or Tamika, or worse, an extension of herself. She felt her cheeks go warm, and she could think of nothing else but to do what she had come for, pick up the cage and leave. Problem was, he was still standing there, the same look of comfort in his eyes that she had felt when talking to the birds a moment before. It was the most awkward feeling she had felt in her life. She could only hope he didn’t think she was some weirdo for being such a loner to talk to his birds. She knew he talked to them, but that was different. They were his. And he was, well—he was Abdur-Rahman.
“Are you okay?” Sarah asked a minute later, and it was then Aminah realized she was staring off in the distance, still recovering from shock.
“Yes,” Aminah said with a forced smile. “I’m fine.” She then picked up the cup of juice she had left on the table next to her and began to drink. Her mother smiled in return, but Aminah could tell her mother wasn’t convinced. Aminah knew her mother could sense there was something else bothering her about the run-in with Abdur-Rahman that was deeper than mere shock. But Aminah hoped her mother wouldn’t bother her about it, because she wasn’t prepared to explain. Besides, how do you explain something that you don’t understand yourself?
“Have you met Alika?” Faith asked Aminah, apparently in an effort to encourage her to join the conversation and get over the surprise run-in with her son. Sarah appreciated that. She didn’t want Aminah to sit looking shell-shocked for the rest of the night. It gave the impression that it was a tragedy for a Muslim woman to unexpectedly run into a man, although Sarah sensed her daughter’s expression was inspired by something more. But that was odd, because Aminah had done nothing other than go upstairs to get a birdcage. What could be so life changing about that?
“Yes,” Aminah said with a nod, “she’s in our Islamic studies class.”
“Oh, that’s right. On Sundays, the one you and Tamika attend.”
“And a sister named Khadijah,” she added.
Faith nodded. “That’s really good. I hope you get an opportunity to give your input on the research she’s doing. I can’t wait to hear the results.”
“I can’t either,” Sarah said, taking a sip from her own juice. “I’m going to call her inshaAllaah. I’d love to be involved.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned it to you yet,” Faith said.
“She mentioned doing multicultural studies when we saw each other at the walimah. And we exchanged numbers.” Sarah laughed. “But you know me, I’m really bad when it comes to the phone.”
“Yes,” Faith agreed with a laugh herself. “I do know that.”
“What else did you discuss?” Sarah asked.
“The struggle of becoming a minority after being a majority all my life.”
“SubhaanAllaah,” she said. “What did you say?”
Faith held a pleasant expression on her face as she sat next to Sarah on the couch across from Aminah and Tamika. “I told her it still hasn’t really sunk in. I only realize it when I’m around Muslims, which I’m not most of the time.”
Sarah nodded. “I know what you mean. That’s how it was for me when I first became Muslim. Ismael and I weren’t really part of a community per se. But I still felt like I’d left everything familiar, if you know what I mean.”
“I can see that, especially given that you had begun to distance yourself from your family.”
She laughed. “But they didn’t know that.”
“How did you manage? I can’t imagine being able to do something like that.”
She smiled. “I just told them I was going out. They didn’t push me too much. I was in college, grown up, so that gave me a little freedom.”
“But they must have known something.”
She nodded. “They did. But Kate was the one who confronted me about it.”
Sarah remembered when Kate told her about the rumors. Sarah was seen with a Negro boy, and people were “talking”. Kate’s expression had been one of wild amusement, as if she herself didn’t believe it, but the way her eyes studied Sarah told her that her younger sister was searching for clues of its veracity. Sarah had laughed her sister off and told her it was a crazy lie. But Sarah did admit that she had been talking a lot to some Negro students at the school to find out more about them.
“Why would you do something like that?” Kate had asked, her nose wrinkled.
“Because they’re people too.”
Sarah remembered that her sister had grown quiet and regarded her with curious distaste. But Kate had nodded, pretending as if she understood but Sarah knew she did not, would not. Kate was like she had been, her parents’ child. She had no mind of her own, and her eyes saw only what her parents had shown her. Sarah wanted to confide in her sister and tell the truth. She had longed to talk to someone, a best friend she could trust. It had been five months since she and Ishmael started taking walks and eating out at restaurants in his part of town. Although the Black people were not particularly thrilled to see a White woman with a Black man, their disagreement was a silent one, revealed only by their briefness in greetings and curious stares. But by then it was almost 1970, and Ishmael and Sarah were not the only interracial couple in the South.
“That must have been hard,” Faith said.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, it was.”
Faith shook her head. “I really respect you for that. I don’t think I would’ve had the strength.”
Sarah laughed. “It wasn’t strength that I had,” she said. “But determination.”
“A determined atheist,” Faith said with a grin. “That is something.”
“Well, I never considered myself an atheist per se. It was more like I was the devil’s advocate when it came to the subject of God.” She added with a smile, “No pun intended.”
“Was it Brother Ismael who taught you about Islam?” Tamika asked, interjecting.
Sarah turned to her daughter-in-law. “Yes, I suppose you can say that. But it was really a journey we took together.”
“Did you know Muslims?”
“No, but Ismael was really familiar with the Nation of Islam.”
“The Nation of Islam?” Faith said, her forehead creased.
“He didn’t believe in it,” Sarah said, “but he would talk about it a lot.”
“Why?”
“He saw its existence as a sign from God.”
“A sign from God?”
“Yes, in that the country was reaping what it sowed.”
Faith nodded. “I never thought about it like that.”
Sarah started to laugh. “I hadn’t either. The way he explained it made it sound less threatening and hateful than it appeared to me.”
“How is that even possible?”
“I was saying they were a Black version of the KKK but—”
“Of course.”
“—he was saying, besides the issue of white and black, there were no real parallels.”
Faith gathered her eyebrows as she listened.
“He said it only made sense for the Blacks to seek an understanding of their mistreatment in some way. Although the Nation of Islam’s racial overtones ruled it out as a true religion, it was a logical response to everything that was happening to them.”
“Hate breeds hate,” Faith said in agreement.
“Yes,” Sarah said, “but he didn’t even think of the Nation of Islam as based on hate per se.”
Faith laughed.
“Of course, we never agreed on that point,” Sarah said, grinning. “But his other points about the group made me think about things I never thought about before.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one, unlike the KKK’s dealings with Blacks, they didn’t terrorize Whites and prevent them from basic rights.”
Faith nodded, considering it. “That’s true.”
“And they cleaned up a lot of the drugs and violence in Black neighborhoods. And, really, they focused primarily on only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Black self respect.” Sarah smiled and shook her head. “There was really little focus on Whites at all.”
“But Malcolm X was a pretty radical figure.”
“Yes, initially, he was.”
“What about his comments on President Kennedy’s assassination?”
“I agree. He was pretty radical in the beginning.”
“So you learned about Islam through the Nation?” Tamika asked.
Sarah narrowed her eyes as she considered the question. “I wouldn’t say that. But we did learn about God through what He allowed to happen with them.”
“Our Islamic studies teacher used to be in the Nation of Islam,” Aminah said.
Sarah turned to her daughter and smiled inwardly, pleased that Aminah was beginning to relax. “Yes, that’s right. I remember Nusaybah mentioning that once.”
“It seems like a lot of Black Muslims found Islam through that route,” Faith remarked thoughtfully. “I find that interesting.”
“Why?” Sarah said.
“That a racist organization actually led people to the truth.” Faith shook her head.
“After 1975,” Sarah said, smiling, “Ismael would use that fact to point out how he had been right all along.”
Faith smiled and nodded. “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that.”
“And I agree with his observation,” Sarah said. “I couldn’t see that then, but I can now. The people who joined the Nation didn’t do it out of hate. They were sincerely searching for the truth.”
Faith pursed her lips, unsure if she agreed. But she listened.
“If you think about it,” Sarah said, “our churches were a Nation of Islam of sorts to us. And they still are for those who are still Christian.”
Faith creased her forehead, amusement in her eyes. “A Nation of Islam?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “We worshipped God as an image of ourselves and looked at colored people as opposite of that. So in essence, they were subhuman, in opposition to the divine race.”
Faith lifted her eyebrows, uncertain. “I wouldn’t say subhuman. Perhaps, not equal.”
“In some churches, this was actually taught. Even American law ruled a Black person as only a fraction of a person.”
She nodded. “That’s true.”
Sarah shook her head. “I didn’t want to agree with Ismael at the time, but in my heart I knew he was right. God is just, he would always say. And this was just something terrible making the way for something beautiful.” She smiled. “And Ismael and I are living proof.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Zahra looked up from where she was sitting with her sister and two cousins in the dining room of her parents’ home and saw Zaid with a concerned expression on his face. He was speaking in English, which meant he wanted Zahra to know he really needed to talk. Speaking English at a family gathering was an anomaly, and her cousin had used that to make his point.
Even as Zahra nodded and excused herself, she knew what he wanted. After she hung up the phone a week ago, she suspected that her conversation with Tamika would eventually get back to Zaid, and she had already braced herself for what he would say.
Zahra followed him through the kitchen and out the back door until they stood on the wooded porch overlooking the backyard.
“Why would you say something like that to Tamika?” His forehead was creased, and the hurt in his eyes made Zahra regret what she had done. She hadn’t intended to hurt him. She was only conveying how she felt about the whole matter. What was so wrong with telling the truth? And the truth was, despite how nice and idealistic it sounded for Americans and Pakistanis to be in one family, it wasn’t the best idea for theirs.
“Because it is true,” she said in Urdu. “You know that.”
“We are Muslim before we are Pakistani.” He had reverted to Urdu too.
“Maybe you are Muslim before you are Pakistani, but you know that is not how our family thinks.”
“But we should. We should think about it like this.”
“Listen to what you are saying. We should do this, and we should do that. Who does everything that he should?”
“That is not an excuse.”
“It is a reason, even if it is not an excuse. And you have to respect our family’s reasoning, even if it is not how you think it should be.”
“I do not understand how you could talk to Tamika about what you think. Do you know that makes it harder for me to marry Aminah?”
“Yes, I do know that. But I did not intend to make it hard for you.” Zahra knew that wasn’t completely true, but she wanted it to be. During the phone conversation, she was hoping that Tamika would tell Aminah. But not for the reasons Zaid suspected. She really liked Aminah, and there were moments she imagined Aminah as a cousin and really liked the idea. But she knew that in reality, if Aminah and Zaid married, it would not be anything like the fairy tale she imagined in her head.
Zahra admired Aminah and Tamika, as she did other American Muslims, and she often wished her family could be like theirs, putting Islam first in everything. But she knew that there were advantages to her and Zaid’s background, even if it did not have such a strong Islamic base. Their culture placed strong emphasis on family and respect for elders that was foreign to many Americans. Although American families like Tamika’s were very strict in stressing respect for parents and elders, the respect and obedience did not go beyond the household or the age of eighteen. College, marriage, and any other “adult” experience were selfish pursuits in which parents were deemed to have no right to involvement. In fact, many Americans spent their adolescence and teen years counting down to the day they could be on their own, the day they would have freedom from the constraints of parents. Extended family members like aunts, uncles, and grandparents rarely had any say in their lives if the American did not happen to live with them.
Did Zaid want his children raised like that? Although Zahra was still young herself, barely twenty years old and still in college, she recognized the importance of constancy in family matters and values. She couldn’t imagine marrying an American, even if she wanted to. Seeing what happened to Anjum had deflated any image of happily ever after she held in her mind when marrying purely for the sake of Allah, or at least what would feel like “for the sake of Allah” at the time. Intercultural marriages just were not a good idea. She doubted they were even meant to happen at all except in very rare occasions when families were open to it and saw some benefit it would bring. How could that be un-Islamic? Islam put strong emphasis on family, and what better way to strengthen family bonds than to marry someone like you?
Attending Streamsdale for three years afforded her the opportunity to meet many different people, Tamika being one. She could not help admiring new Muslims like Tamika, but she could not ignore the problems that plagued communities that were comprised primarily of American converts. Although Aminah had not converted to Islam, her parents had, and it was obvious that her parents were not very close to their own parents and family. Sarah and Ismael were a remarkable couple, but their long marriage together was not the norm amongst Americans. Divorce, to many Americans, seemed like a trivial matter, something resorted to as a solution to marital problems. Had Zaid considered that? What would Aminah do when things went wrong? Go to her parents and say she wanted out? Without Zaid’s family supporting the marriage, how could it not end in divorce?
Then there was the preoccupation of Americans with issues like color and race. Until meeting Tamika, Zahra thought little of those things. Even attending public schools had not exposed her to the complexity of the topic. Tamika and Aminah seemed almost obsessed with making sure the world saw all colors as equal, and although Islam itself supported this notion, was it really necessary to have this point underlying all conversations about intercultural relations among Muslims? It was as if they saw racism in everything, and it was suffocating for Zahra, especially since the implications often accused her own culture of the crime, when Desi people themselves were victims of racism, in America and Kashmir.
“Did you intend to make it hard for Aminah?” he said, his eyes still reflecting the hurt that was beginning to pain Zahra.
Zahra was quiet momentarily. “You are making it hard for Aminah by making her believe something that is not true. She is different from us. She cannot be a part of our family.”
“You do not have a right to that decision.”
“Then if you want to marry her, marry her. You do not need to talk to me. You say Islam allows you to do it, even without the permission of your mother and father. So why are you seeking mine?”
Zahra felt the cruelty of her words, but she was losing patience with this issue. Part of her wanted to support Zaid’s desire to marry Aminah. There was something undeniably beautiful about following one’s heart, especially within the limits of Islam. She wanted to say she hoped the best for them. Because, really, she did. But she could not. There was too much at stake. What would her parents say if they found out she had supported him, even if only with words? They would think she was a part of this. It was difficult enough continuing to be Tamika’s and Aminah’s friend. That made her immediately suspect in her family’s view. But she would not cut them off. She really liked them as Muslim sisters, and she did not want to lose that. But she would not risk losing her status as a respectable daughter and niece in her family. That she was unwilling to do, even if it meant outwardly discouraging Zaid while supporting him in her heart. What else could she possibly do?
“I am not seeking your permission. I only wanted your support as my cousin and friend.”
The words affected her deeply, and she was reminded of how they had grown up together and were more like siblings than cousins. Her mother and his mother were sisters and their fathers were cousins. Zaid was like a brother and best friend to her, and she longed for that closeness they had from childhood through college. But what Zaid was asking from her, she could not give. Even if she had a choice, she would choose her family over him. If he wanted to marry Aminah, there was nothing at all wrong with that. But he could not expect her to be his support throughout this as she had been for trivial matters growing up. Besides, it was he who was putting the wall between them, making it impossible for her to do what he asked. His newfound Islamic identity inspired in him a strictness that put a distance between them, and this made her uncomfortable. He would not even look at her anymore. He kept his gaze down as he did with strange women at the masjid or in school. He would not sit next to her, or even near her, during family gatherings, and he no longer greeted her with a hug. Even their conversation tonight was strained, and she knew it was because he was uncomfortable talking to her alone, even though they were outside and not in a closed room. She imagined that one day he would not talk to her at all, and she dreaded that day.
“I am sorry,” she said, turning toward the door so she would not have to look him in the eye. “I cannot support you in this.” Without waiting for a reply, she went back inside and returned to the dining room where her sister and cousins were still talking. The way Rabia looked at her when she returned to the table told Zahra she would have to talk to her sister. She could not risk having her older sister think she had anything to do with Zaid’s relationship with Aminah Ali.