I've stopped wearing the hijab. I won't attempt to "try out" any other
religions. At least not in the near future. It isn't so much the giving
up, as it is the emotional upheaval that bothers me.
I want so desperately to believe in something, but I don't. And wanting to believe in something and actually believing in something aren't the same thing. In the end it felt like a lie. A desperate attempt on my part to be something more than I am. Maybe I was never meant to be a religious person. Maybe I was never meant to defend or protect or change anything. Maybe I was just meant to be me.
I was torn. Torn between my defiance in the face of adversity and my heartbreak in discovering that I couldn't put my faith in something I can't see. Not again. Even though I fiercely defended it with everything I had in me. I would still defend it. I will defend any religion (except Scientology, but that is because it is not a "real" religion), to the death if necessary. I will defend anyone who wishes to practice those religions. I have a great appreciation for them. A deep love for the thoughts and the practices and the motions. I just can't do them myself.
I may still wear the hijab in private. Just between myself and whatever god or goddess may exist out there. Maybe the all exist. Sekhmet, Jesus, Krishna, Allah, Athena, etc. Maybe they all exist and that is why the world is so insane. Too many cooks in the kitchen.
I have learned a lot, which is what I originally stepped out of my shell to do. I force myself into the open to learn, to take it all in. To force a change in myself that I feel needs to happen. And I have walked away with a thought.
I never knew prejudice before now.
Oh, I understood it. On a level that most people do. It was abhorrent and wrong. But it is different when you step over the line and see what it is like to be on the side actually living with it. Living under it.
I lost track of how many times someone asked "Where are you from?" and they didn't mean what state. I had people refuse to let me wait on them. I had people call me all sorts of names. My life was threatened at one point. It was that that made me want to continue, even when I knew I had lost the heart of it. I didn't want to give up and let them win. Let them be the reason I was giving up. I haven't given up, though. It wasn't them. It was my inability to continue lying to myself. I have accomplished part of what I set out to do. I saw what it was like.
Shams (a Muslim friend who moved to the states from Bangladesh) told me once that I couldn't understand what he went through. And I will never fully understand what he goes through, because his experiences will be different from mine, but I have had a taste.
I've rambled now. It's the migraine that keeps coming back. I just keep circling the same thoughts over and over.
I want so desperately to believe in something, but I don't. And wanting to believe in something and actually believing in something aren't the same thing. In the end it felt like a lie. A desperate attempt on my part to be something more than I am. Maybe I was never meant to be a religious person. Maybe I was never meant to defend or protect or change anything. Maybe I was just meant to be me.
I was torn. Torn between my defiance in the face of adversity and my heartbreak in discovering that I couldn't put my faith in something I can't see. Not again. Even though I fiercely defended it with everything I had in me. I would still defend it. I will defend any religion (except Scientology, but that is because it is not a "real" religion), to the death if necessary. I will defend anyone who wishes to practice those religions. I have a great appreciation for them. A deep love for the thoughts and the practices and the motions. I just can't do them myself.
I may still wear the hijab in private. Just between myself and whatever god or goddess may exist out there. Maybe the all exist. Sekhmet, Jesus, Krishna, Allah, Athena, etc. Maybe they all exist and that is why the world is so insane. Too many cooks in the kitchen.
I have learned a lot, which is what I originally stepped out of my shell to do. I force myself into the open to learn, to take it all in. To force a change in myself that I feel needs to happen. And I have walked away with a thought.
I never knew prejudice before now.
Oh, I understood it. On a level that most people do. It was abhorrent and wrong. But it is different when you step over the line and see what it is like to be on the side actually living with it. Living under it.
I lost track of how many times someone asked "Where are you from?" and they didn't mean what state. I had people refuse to let me wait on them. I had people call me all sorts of names. My life was threatened at one point. It was that that made me want to continue, even when I knew I had lost the heart of it. I didn't want to give up and let them win. Let them be the reason I was giving up. I haven't given up, though. It wasn't them. It was my inability to continue lying to myself. I have accomplished part of what I set out to do. I saw what it was like.
Shams (a Muslim friend who moved to the states from Bangladesh) told me once that I couldn't understand what he went through. And I will never fully understand what he goes through, because his experiences will be different from mine, but I have had a taste.
I've rambled now. It's the migraine that keeps coming back. I just keep circling the same thoughts over and over.
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