I apologize, I’m Muslim, and going to stay that way

Interesting theme touched me today and prompted to write this article. 

Touched me so hard that an hour later I’m still reeling...

Rerun of “Bones”, interns are identifying 9/11 victim. Young Jewish guy asks one of the other interns, Muslim older man “do you find that it’s hard for you to work on this victim?” Muslim guy “Why?” “Well, because you are sharing the religion with...” and trailed off. The Muslim guy answered with very good speech how it’s an honor to work towards identifying this person, and show kindness toward people who suffered that day, when no kindness was given them, and something something, but already lost it, I was still reeling from the question itself... I was thinking “Did you really just lumped me with terrorists because  of circumstances of my birth that I can’t change? Did you just put my wonderful, gentle, loving grandma in the same pile with that scum? My mom, whom everyone loves because to be around her is to fall under adorable cuteness that is her charm? My cousins and their toddlers? 

I didn’t know religious hate until I moved here, to America. I didn’t know that I’m supposed to be that vile, repulsive, vicious thing...

I didn’t know that I’m the same thing with the scum of the scum of humanity, humans in the name only... 

The country where I was born was a chip that fell off the good old Soviet Union, but by the time I was old enough to take notice was about 75-80% Muslim. We have romantic Russian orthodox churches and majestic gothic catholic cathedrals next to beautiful Hindu temples and, of course, mosques. I grew up used to expecting my fair share sweets from Jewish, Russian, Korean (to name a few) neighbors according to the holidays, and to share mine, when Ramadan ends, or Spring festival Navruz comes. 

We grew up not knowing that someone is to be hated for no other reason than their religion. What we did know that history taught us how ugly it turns out every time. 

In 1998 we’ve suffered at the hands of supposed “Muslim” terrorists. When I’m in the mood I’ll tell you that story. 

I traveled and lived in other places. In Russia I lived in Kazan, the melting pot of east and west, with interesting and memorable culture, then Moscow, where almost everyone was Christian but no one ever presumed I was one. No one ever judged me for that either. There was one instance of prejudice, but it didn’t touch me, but rather my friend. I’ll expand on it later. 

First time I felt the sting of judgement was when I married a simple American guy, kind, all around good, hardworking, churchgoing single dad of adorable angelic looking 6 year old. 

I went to church a couple of times, but there l felt like everyone is holding their breath for me to get baptized like, really soon. Which I didn’t plan. 

I stopped going. I claimed laundry, cleaning the house, cooking, carving time out to talk to my family (at the time they all were in Moscow). So when my American family comes home I was free to spend time with them, all chores done. 

At first I didn’t claim any religious affiliation. When people asked me if I was baptist/Episcopalian/what have you I’d just say no, but never volunteered any clarification in those pregnant pauses between questions. When people asked me if I was Christian, and heard ‘no’ as an answer the talk usually cringed to hard stop because people couldn’t even imagine what else is there. I braved myself for disappointed expressions, but didn’t volunteer any additional info. People tried to find me an Orthodox Church thinking that maybe that’s what I want. I received weekly invitations from different churches, religious items, like rosary, crosses, brochures, KJ version of bible in Russian(!) (pocket version). 

In fact during first 5 years in America I haven’t told anything to anybody but my husband. He, of course, tried good-naturedly cure me of my “little problem” by explaining me the errors in my ways. In the beginning my grasp on English was tenuous, enough to work and carry casual conversation, but not enough for theological discussions. My husband also felt free to share the info around. As a result his preacher, all his friends and relatives doubled the efforts to assure him that I want only green card, and as soon as I get it I will do something horrible, or at least leave him. The problems  stemmed from several things, besides being Muslim, 1. I was too young for him. 2. I was too pretty. 3. I was a professional architect, and my salary was only a reasonable amount less than his (less overall experience). 

One evening after church my stepdaughter comes to me (she was about 7 at the time) and asks ‘are you a christian?’ I say ‘no, I’m not.’ She thought about it and said ‘then I won’t see you in heaven’. Turns around and goes to bed. The suddenness of the question told me that someone told her that without sparing her anxiety and worry, because by that time she loved me already, and she decided to make sure. That week I mentioned the incident to my husband and asked him to explain her that people of other religions can go to heaven too, and he answered ‘how can I tell her that if I don’t even believe it myself.’ I remember he said ‘I don’t know how you fit into my world.’ Something about I showed up and turned his orderly world upside down.

Too upset to continue...