By Anwar 

It could’ve been me or you walking to the masjid (mosque) with my heart set on God, during the holiest month of the year, getting ready to worship my lord with the companionship of my friends. It could’ve been me or you that was kidnapped and murdered because racial and religious profiling seem to be the “trend” these days. It could have been me or you that never made it home that night and left our families gut-wrenched and heartbroken. Ask yourself, “how does that TRULY make you feel?” Seriously, be honest with yourselves. 
I’m not sure how much longer the world will continue to turn a blind eye to kidnappings, murders, terror attacks, racism, and bigotry against Muslims. I’m just not sure. I’m disturbingly sick of how often I turn on the news or hop onto social media, and there it is: LABLES. LABLES everywhere. You see a man with a beard, who isn’t Muslim labeled as a “Muslim terrorist”. You see a modest women dressed in hijab, and she’s apparently “oppressed”, but you see a woman flaunting her body in a bikini and she’s “free and beautiful”. A white man commits a crime, and he’s “mentally ill” or suffered “road rage”. A black man commits a crime, and he’s “a thug”. It makes no sense to me. It’s totally backwards. I mean that is my opinion, but I’m pretty logical. In this case, my opinion is truth. We just refuse to see it that way. We judge people because for years we’ve labeled groups of people based on religion, race, and gender. Let’s face it. It exists in all of us. I’m not sure what it’s going to take to turn this around, as I feel like we are far from it. 
Let’s reflect. 
We have a “President” who stands for nothing related to “for the people, by the people”. We have a mass media base that’s totally skewed to report everything but TRUTH. We have a world around us where children are dying and are being murdered by the masses and we’re totally numbed by it. 
I am so LOST. I have no idea what to do about it. I feel defeated, but I refuse to lose. I refuse to let oppression by society be the theme of the rest of my life and the for the lives of future generations. I need, we need people to band together to make change. Who is going to be the one to step up and actually do it? I mean honestly, who? We all say we want a part of it, but who is actually going to be the one? 
Here’s a thought. It begins with the already mentioned. REFLECT. Reflecting from within ourselves. Refusing to allow ourselves to be afraid of truth. Clear the blindness of our hearts and open our foggy minds to think and feel for what others are going through. Challenge yourselves to wear a hijab, and walk in a store. Have an open conversation with a Muslim, or walk in a mosque, and gain an open mind. I promise, you will be amazed. 
I’ll be honest. When I wore my hijab, “being judged” was something I struggled with. Now, I’m just over it. I wear my hijab as an obligation of worship to my creator. He is the one and only judge. Not society. I’ll continue to wear it proudly. I will continue to be a voice for the unheard. 

I will continue to stand up for the rights of Nabra who was assaulted, kidnapped, and brutally murdered by a fascist, and the other 1.7 billion Muslims around the globe, who are the victims of hate, terrorism, and bigotry. 
It is my duty. 

Now it just needs to be yours. 

I decided to write a poem today…

I’ve been sitting here for hours,
Contemplating life and its meaning.
In this unknown world,
its beauty and glamor; deceiving.
A part of me is lost,
I can’t shake the feeling.
No words are being spoken,
but my heart is screaming.
I’m not made for this world,,,
Is anyone hearing?!
The lies, trickery, and deceit
that’s all I’m seeing
Happiness and love
are but moments fleeting.
Every day, I wake up,
and life is just repeating.
I don’t know who I am,
or what I’m even seeking!
The only thing I know is
this earth; no longer appealing.
I tell myself; keep going,
keep breathing.
A day needs to come,
there will be healing.
Simplicity and purity;
A reality, no longer just dreaming.
Every part of me knows it
I just gotta keep on believing
One day I’ll be in Heaven
awaiting HIS greeting.

By Esraa

By Anwar 

Nope, not even water, but trust me when I say, that’s okay!! That question typically comes along with a negative connotation, but let me tell you, Ramadan is undoubtably my favorite time of the year. No question. Yes, no food or water for nearly 17 hours a day for 30 days straight, and it’s my favorite time of the year. Just based off of hearing that, you probably think I’m crazy. It’s only because Ramadan is beyond that, waaaaaaaaaaaay way way beyond that. This time of year brings people together, not just over a sunset meal, but at the mosque as well. People you haven’t seen since the previous Ramadan, you see again in Ramadan. You catch up like you never left off. There’s just something different about the air. I swear I’m not crazy, I can’t be the only one that thinks that. I mean if you know what katayef are (a middle eastern dessert usually only made in Ramadan), well even they taste especially amazing during Ramadan. In fact, I can only eat them during Ramadan! It’s really an unexplainable feeling, but if I have to put in into words, it’s beyond glorious. 
Working during Ramadan, whether it be during school time or during the summer working summer jobs, non-Muslims are always mesmerized at the fact that we can’t have anything to eat or drink. Trust me, it’s harder some days than others, but the gratefulness you’re taught and the patience you gain for having what you have is honestly a wonderful, grateful feeling. I mean, I fast for 17 hours a day knowing that by sunset, I’ll be breaking my fast to a five-star Palestinian meal. What do others have? What do those boys and girls and mothers and fathers in third world countries have? They barely have access to fresh, clean water, and that’s EVERYDAY. I’m restricted from food, water, and worldly temptations for a few hours each day for 30 days and then I’m rewarded at the end of each day. I thank God everyday, but for me, I know it’s not enough. I could thank him more. I know I could. His blessings and mercy are beyond imaginable. So please, don’t feel bad when I cannot eat or drink for a few hours each day. I enjoy it. I gain so much reward out of it. Yes it’s hard sometimes, especially during these summer months, but it’s not meant to be easy. It’s meant to allow us to sympathize with those who struggle everyday. Those who have limited resources. I’m blessed and grateful by the Almighty that I have access to fresh drinking water at sunset. It’s those little blessings that we overlook everyday that we become so thankful for. Another thing, please please please don’t feel bad when you have to eat or drink in front of me. Do your thing. It’s okay! I promise! I get rewarded for that too! 😊 When I tell you His mercy is endless, it truly is. 

“Well, what if you’re sick? What if you have medications to take? What if this? What if that?” Trust me. I understand. These are all good questions, but they come with a logical answer. God never meant for us to fast and suffer or risk your life in the process of Ramadan. If you can’t handle fasting due to a valid reason, you just don’t fast. It’s especially tough for diabetics or women who are pregnant, or those seriously ill. God has answers to everything. If you’re caught in a bind or seriously unsure, seek and Imam or Sheikh to help you, but keep in mind, be mindful and be logical. 

Oh Ramadan, the glorious 9th month of the Lunar year of the Islamic Calendar. It’s a time of year when the gates of hell are closed and the glory doors of Jannah have opened. A time when God, day and night, night and day, gives us the opportunities to better ourselves through fasting from the worldly matters of this Earth. A time when prayers are answered, God’s servants seek his forgiveness, and because his mercy is beyond the greatness we can imagine, our deeds are granted as blessings beyond our knowledge. God’s mercy is undeniably endless. It’s up to us to create that foundation to become better, recharge, refuel, and strive for living life to please the one and only Almighty. 

Ramadan refuels the the mind, body, and soul. It teaches you patience, thankfulness, personal struggle, steering away from temptations, and really focusing on one main thing that collectively brings all these ideas together. The one thing that sums up the meaning of Ramadan in a nutshell, and that’s one’s relationship with Allah (God). Establishing a connection with God during this holy month especially, is so amazing. I mean just hearing the recitation of Quran or reading from the Quran, you just feel a special kind of connection. Like God’s word is literally right there. The same message spoke to those before us, 1400+ years ago. It’s quite a miracle within it’s self. I’ll be honest with you, I wish I devoted more time to God’s book prior to and after Ramadan as much as I do during. I still have to establish that balance. For me, my struggle now is balancing that spiritual high I’m on during Ramadan with life after Ramadan. Summer makes that tough. Its tough because during the summer, I feel I have more balance and will to commit myself to my faith. I absolutely enjoy Ramadan during the summer months. I feel like I’m in Palestine. My nights become days and my days become nights. You’re up at 3 a.m. and it feels so normal. You’re at the mosque for countless hours, surrounded by amazing people and it’s such a beautiful thing, and then as soon as Eid (Islamic holiday commemorating the end of Ramadan) is over, all of a sudden everything naturally takes a halting stop. It’s so depressing. It’s like going through terrible separation anxiety. And for those who know me, I generally struggle with that. A LOT. It’s so tough. Ramadan leaves you for 11 more months. So much transpires in that 11 months. Ups and downs, and all you want is stability, stability with devoting your life to God, and Ramadan naturally allows for that. I hate to say I rely on Ramadan, but I do. I think most can agree with me. That’s why it’s so hard finding that balance. I need to find a balance and maintain it. I need to make this daily commitment to Allah. Praying 5 times a day everyday, just simply isn’t enough. Gosh, just writing about Ramadan, I realize we’re nearly near the half way point. I mean let’s be honest, IT’S FLYING BY 😭. 
Although during the summer months, Ramadan has long days and short nights, it honestly goes by like a blink of an eye. As Ramadan nears the midpoint and then eventually an end, I want you all to join me. Let’s make our mark, and find an equalizing balance for until next Ramadan. We will most likely have an uphill, down hill struggle, but I rather leave and meet with Ramadan 2018 knowing we tried. May Allah grant us purity, patience, guidance, and ease between this Ramadan and the next, and may he unite us all each Ramadan in which we all positively come together and benefit from one another. Ameen. Peace and blessings to you all. 
My Greatest Regards, 
Anwar 😊

P.S. Let’s be real here. One of the biggest struggles is grocery shopping during Ramadan. Those Swiss Rolls that you told yourself you’d never eat again, all of a sudden look amazing. 😭 

By Esraa 

What is it with three a.m.? It seems like I get the writing bug around this time most nights.  Here I am sitting in my room, in Pittsburgh, while the entire world is sleeping, typing away this next blog. I hope you are all ready for this, because a big rant may be coming your way. My eyes may just get stuck in the back of my head from the amount of times I will roll my eyes while reliving these memories. Here I am in college, getting ready to go to my classes and by some random chance, I chose today to wear pants. It just may seem that the world has ended, Esraa is wearing pants. I repeat ESRAA IS WEARING PANTS! Make sure when you see her, you comment about it, while you’re at it, snap a picture! Maybe I’m a little bit over dramatic, I’ll admit, but this is how it feels in my head.  

It seems like everyone I meet along the way will say, “Wow, I have never seen you wear pants before,” or jokingly… I think: “Bent Al sheikh is wearing pants.” The eye is rolling. I would tell them “why don’t you take a picture so you can document it in history?” I kid you not, many did! At the moment I laugh, I know it’s all fun and games. However, in my head, an entirely different reaction is happening. Most likely the person I’m having this conversation with is wearing pants. I’m not freaking out, why are you? 

See this scenario above mostly happens with my friends, so it doesn’t bother me as much as the next scenario. I get it, it’s a shock; I rarely wore pants. I preferred the flow of skirts, and many times I wore an Abaya to school {a traditional Islamic dress}. For me to randomly walk in one day, in pants, was out of the norm. Their reactions made me more and more uncomfortable to wear pants again, I would think ten times before I did. 

Now, this scenario Is where I have a major problem. The older generation of the community. If it happened once, it happened a few million times. They will see me randomly in the store as I hurriedly shop for a particular thing or two, or by some chance, I have stopped by the masjid to give my father something.  Low and behold!  Esraa is wearing pants! I can see it in their eyes when they look me up and down, the judgment in their tone as they comment on my choice of dress. Many times, I’d hear it at home when one lady would tell my mom, that she saw Esraa in the store and she was wearing pants. Yup, I think my eyes just got stuck there.

They made me want to scream! Did they not understand what they were doing? That at times this made me feel like rebelling. I would wear pants out of my comfort just to prove a point. It was ridiculous. Who were you to pass that judgment? Wasn’t it a little hypocritical that you felt the need to make this an issue as you stood before me in your pants? 

Why? Because I was Bent Al Shiekh? Aren’t we both Muslim? If it wasn’t allowed for me, then it’s sure as heck wasn’t allowed for you. Who set these standards and rules that I needed to follow? What right was given to you to determine the way I dressed? I followed my dress code based on the teachings of my faith; those were the rules I followed. Pants were a rare thing to me, because modesty was a major key in the way my parents raised me, and in my personal preference. When I wore pants, I made sure my shirts were long. I don’t need to defend myself to anyone; my only judge is God. 

So, what the heck is your point Esraa? We get it, we shall never comment on your pants again. Well, if this is your train of thought, firstly I thank you.  But, my point here is, while you think what you are doing isn’t that big of a deal and that it may be a joke or some weird kind of concern, keep in mind the undeserved pressure you place upon us, “Children of the Shiekh.” Very recently I got to know about a girl I knew while growing up; she was a daughter of Shiekh, as well. I was saddened to hear about the route she had taken in her life, and I pray to God to bring her back to clarity, but this is what can happen when the judgment and pressure gets too much. We, as the Muslim community, need to work on being more accepting, forgiving and welcoming. My rant is coming to an end, and my eyes are rolling back to place. Thanks for taking the time to read. 

Peace out, 

Esraa 
P.S I type this as I’m wearing pants…

Written By: Anwar

I needed an outlet. Over a cup of coffee, well a salted-caramel mocha to be exact (with a pretty foam swirl forming the shape of a heart), a chat with a couple friends, advice from the experienced, and support from my best friend and co-author of this blog, Esraa, I decided that this was best. I was able to come to a conclusion that this would be the starting platform of what my small world needs to know. It just makes sense. That’s why these blogs exist. Afterall, it’s better than keeping it bottled in, verbally venting to others, or just plain overthinking. There are so many experiences to share, for within the last 7 years of my life, I feel like I’ve lived multiple lives just based off of different experiences and interactions. Ha! Weird to say, and you’re probably thinking, “where the heck is this going?” You’ll see, and hopefully you’ll grasp the idea. Here is my goal of trying to piece it all together! Between working in a hospital, attending college, being a full-time, avid Cleveland sports fan, being involved with the local mosque, balancing healthy relationships between my family and friends, putting my faith before my worldly life, rekindling my love to my culture (both American and Palestinian), to eventually becoming a teacher and a coach, where do I even begin?! Well, rather how do I even begin to tell you about my experiences, the people I’ve met along the way, and how it has effected and shaped me to the person I am today among this outlasting society in which we live. A blog –A blog as a platform for you to understand, if you want. Otherwise, I’m venting by writing out my thoughts, experiences, and life. You can choose to stay and listen, read between the lines, or smile and walk away. I’ll never know! 🙂
Best Regards,

Anwar

By Esraa

I’ve played around with the concept of writing a blog for many years, but one thing or another always held me back. This time with the encouragement of my co-author and best friend, Anwar, I’ve decided to take the plunge.
I have recently come to understand that being silent is often worse than shouting at the top of your lungs. In this age of electronic media, getting one’s “voice” out there may be easy; however, having it “heard” is next to impossible. Blogging is a forum for the expression of ideas, feelings, thoughts and information – a means to share and learn from others lives and experiences. I think of words as a window into the writer’s mind; every word is a little part of their soul being shared to the world.
I am not anyone special; I’m just like any other human being who has walked, lived and played this game of life. However, each one of us has a different story to tell. My family immigrated to America from Egypt when I was only two years old. America is the only home I know, and English is my first language. My parents, however, made sure my four siblings and I were fluent in Arabic and maintained our Islamic culture.
I am the fourth child out of three girls and two boys, my father is a Shiekh/Imam, and my mother is a retired teacher. It’s the concept of who my dad is that has shaped my life and the main reason behind why I started this blog. A Shiekh is a Muslim Chapel leader similar to a Priest or a Rabbi, so you can imagine the position he held in the community and the responsibilities that came along with it. My father’s job wasn’t one he could leave at the door when he walked out after a strenuous day at work. Nope, this stuck to him, and it stuck to his family. We gained the title of “Children of the Shiekh” or “Wife of the Sheikh,” and people would call us that all the time. It was as if our entire identity was just tied to him; as if his wife or children didn’t have a name. Don’t get me wrong; it’s an honor, and I am grateful for who my father is without that identity I wouldn’t be half the awesome person I am today, :). But, there is more to who I am then just who my father is, I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, and a friend to many. Every one of those relationships experiences “Esraa” differently, and they all form the ultimate being of who I am. Through my journey, I have met some of the most phenomenal people, and explored so many of life’s gems. It wasn’t just the title that irked me, rather all the standards that society placed upon us. So, I thought, why keep it in me, let’s break down the stereotypes one blog at a time. You’re going to hear this multiple times through out my blogs…my name is Esraa, not Bent Al-Shiekh.

With love,

Esraa