I’m a Muslim and live as such, but I’m also a humanist. Just as I believe in God, so also do I believe that we are all connected no matter our faith, belief in science, race, or country of origin. We all have an ability to enrich one another not in spite of our differences but because of them.
You can’t take away the past; you can only add to the narrative. There is a narrative about Muslims that already exists. I’m not here to undo or rewrite history. That is propaganda or an impossibility. What I, and others, can do is expand on the notion of what it means to be Muslim, continue the story line that survives alongside us.
Even in a realm as historically dogmatic as religion, I don’t believe one size fits all. Faith is a pathway to life, but not just any life. Your life. My life. And none of us lives the same life. To wrestle with belief is to apply it within the context of your own circumstances.
And yet I also rail against having every action I take reduced to a social construct stemming from my religion, stripping me of the complexities of multidimensional thought. I am a human, not a figurehead. I have always chafed at owning other people’s notions about my identities, be it what it means to be a mother or a member of Congress.
Everything in life is fluid. Pride, strength, and responsibility—all of those notions are the domain of people in comfort and safety. When you’re facing death, you’re not guided by your importance or your past, and you certainly don’t worry about whether your pride is intact. Again and again, I witnessed that if you can push through whatever is happening today, tomorrow might be worse, but it could also be better. The only option for the human spirit is to keep going.