Who Am I?

Perhaps one way we can fight racism and Islamophobia is through actually getting to know one another. Here is my story in a few words..

I was born in Salt Lake City, Utah to a Moroccan father and a French mother (both fresh off the boat). Two immigrants, two PHD’s, 3 children, a dog, a cat, and the American Dream.

 My incredibly strong, smart, and stubborn mother taught her children to know what you want in life and to go after it. My saint, die hard-working father, who always goes above and beyond and who climbed his way to the top of every company he worked for, taught us that anything was possible as long as you work hard.

While both parents were not religious themselves, they gave us the choice. “Believe in what you want” they told us, “just accept and embrace others, remain open, and most of all, be kind to one another. We just want you to be happy. ” they said, echoing the freedom to decide laid out in Surah 2, ayat 256, “There is no compulsion in religion.” My two brothers chose science versus God. I chose both.

At 12 years old, via a family tradition, each kid was sent to live with an uncle or aunt in Morocco for a year. I found myself telling my cousin “I believe the world works like this” she would respond “you know in Islam they believe that too?” After learning more and more that year I finally took my vow and exclaimed to the heavens, “I am Muslim!”

During this time my aunt became my guide into Islam. She preached Islam with a positive connotation instead of a negative one. With love and forgiveness, as opposed to hate or punishment. For example she would never tell me “if you do this: you are bad or if you don’t do this: you are bad.” She always explained faith, in what I find to be, its purest state: love and mercy. God was forgiving and loving; simply believing and talking with him directly “was amazing” she said.  “It’s between you and God” she continued “if you pray on the mat, facing east, wearing a hijab, after washing your hands, in the traditional way,  that’s great, but if not, then that’s ok too. Simply being there and believing was the basis of all of it.”

 She would remind me “God knows the intention in your heart.”

Coming back home I navigated the rough waters of being Muslim in a non-Muslim world, in a non-Muslim house, with non-Muslim friends and understanding my identity within it, as well as my French/Moroccan/American identity whilst living in America. My blessing from this was: it taught me to love and accept all races, ethnicities, and religions. All this while dreaming of singing to the world my original music. The journey was long but it ended with, quite simply “I am Woman. I am Muslim. I am American. I am Moroccan. AND  I am French.  And that’s pretty dang cool.”

  “People, We have created you all, male and female, and have made you nations and tribes so that you would recognize each other” Surah 49, ayat 13.

9/11. I was late to wood shop class that morning, I walked in wearing a neon orange tank top that was way too short, which got me in trouble with our overly strict teacher, however instead of sending me to the principal’s office, I was instructed to sit down and watch the news as the second Twin Tower came crashing down. A classmate exclaimed  “kill all the arabs” I quickly reacted “I am Arab” she recoiled “well… I didn’t mean you.”

This moment was my defining moment, perhaps I’ll call it my beginning, in knowing that I would be an advocate to Muslims, especially Muslims in America. With my aunt’s guiding light, I would shine the truth on this beautiful religion and these beautiful people. I would put my glasses on and chalk to the board, to bash stereotypes and educate ignorance.

I wanted to know more. So I dove in, head first, Islam style. In secret, I started going to the Mosques every Friday, praying with a Hijab on, facing east, and doing all the right motions and movements.  I started attending “Quran Study” followed by discussion groups filled with me asking each and every question I could think of. However, here I found a new obstacle, as if I hit my head on the bottom of the pool:

the Muslims didn’t accept me either.

 I couldn’t understand why after every sermon and every class I would walk out feeling farther and farther away from God. The “hit the bottom of the pool” moment was being told this sentence:  “If you don’t pray in Arabic (in my own head) then it doesn’t count, and you are not allowed in the mosque to pray with us.”

I went home, upset, I sat down on my mat, with no Hijab on my head, and talked it over with God, in English (my first language). We decided we were going to stop all of it and go on a honeymoon to rekindle our love. Once we did, and after much assessment, humbly I learned: there are many ways to interpret and preach this religion, and I remembered what my aunt told me, “It’s between you and God and the intention in your heart.”

“Allah intends for you ease, and He does not want to make things difficult for you” Surah 2, ayat 185.

01/17. 45 inaugurated. Time to be radical. My radical act? Telling people who I am.

Behind the curtain at a sold out all original music show, opening for Billboard’s Top 100 Artist Sammy J,  I held the microphone in my hand that was attached to my butterfly-filled stomach. I was afraid.  “Whenever you are ready” the sound man said.

I looked up to God and said Prophet Musa(as) Dua for Public Speaking: “My lord expand for me my chest and make easy for my task” -Taha: 25-26.

I put the microphone to my mouth and said  “do you want to know, what a modern American, Muslim, woman looks like?” took another deep breath, saying to myself “inner Beyonce inner Beyonce, come out come out.”  I then strutted, I mean strutted to the front of the stage, put my hand on my hip and said “It’s me. I am Woman. I am Muslim. I am American.” The crowd was silent for a few seconds, which felt more like a few minutes but then, they cheered. I proceeded to sing my butt off with a drummer, a guitarist, a pianist, four horns, and 2 background singers and the rest is history.

I went on to open for Grammy award winning artist Mya and Oscar winning musician Patrich Rushen as well as for Top Billboard 100 artist SOMO all with exclaiming “I am Woman. I am Muslim. I am American.”

Then, after another sold out show, a 50 something white male, came up to me. He hugged me and said “I live about 3 hours away from here but I saw your ad in the paper and knew I just had to come see this. I need you to know, I never knew a Muslim woman could do that. That she could be fierce, and sexy and strong, and powerful like that.” He thanked me for showing him another way to know and understand Muslims and now he would seek knowledge and apply this concept to other aspects of his life.

I said to myself “that’s it, that’s my mission: to un-define the Muslim woman” one old balding guy a time, one performance at a time, one post at a time, one video at a time, one standing up for what I believe in at a time, one song at a time, one “do you want to know what a modern American Muslim woman looks like? At a time, and one “It’s me. I am Woman. I am Muslim. I am American.” at a time.