Omar and Jenny are standing in Trinity-Bellwoods Farmers’ Market.

It’s Tuesday, Asr time. Time for their weekly grocery shopping trip. They are gathering organic ingredients for tonight’s Iftar.

They’ve invited me to break fast with them and stay for Iftar Dinner.

It will be the first home cooked meal, and the first time during this 30 Masjids journey around town,  I won’t be inside a Greater Toronto Area masjid for Maghrib.

Read the rest of this entry »

By Aman Ali

Ibtihaj Muhammad stares me down as I lace up my Puma sneakers and grasp my fencing sabre. One of us is a world-class fencer training for the U.S. Olympics team. The other has played a Star Wars lightsaber game a few times on Nintendo Wii.

The five-point match begins. I dash forward and my sabre grazes her side. I’m stunned I was able to score a point on her, but hey I’ll take it. The Slumdog Millionaire song “Jai Ho” reverberates in my brain as my head is temporarily filled with delusions I have a chance to beat her.

Next point, I take a brief second before I attack and notice an opening on her left arm. I lunge towards her with the hopes of striking her. I miss. My sabre whiffs in the air and she responds by essentially smacking me in the face with the broadside of her weapon.

The song in my head stops. I lose 5-1.

Ibtihaj takes a question from the eager audience.
The crowd.
Ibtihaj dons her mask with the help of her nephew.

Ibtihaj has gained massive attention as of late not only because of her skills but the fact that she’s a practicing Muslim and wears the headscarf. When she travels around the world for tournaments, she’s often mobbed by fans such as the time she went to France last year in midst of the country’s whole burqa-banning bonanza.

“I was swarmed by the French press and literally had hundreds of kids asking me for my autograph,” she said. “I was almost ejected from the event because I was so busy signing these autographs.”

“When you go abroad, you think people are afraid of Muslims,” she added. “But you almost become an ambassador for the Muslim community here in America, whether or not I like to. I wear the hijab so people see the United States logo on my uniform and are curious more so than anything.”

One of the reasons she took on fencing was she wanted to play a sport that didn’t restrict her desire to dress modestly as a Muslim woman. She played volleyball in high school but oftentimes felt awkward doing it.

“The fact that I wore hijab, I couldn’t wear the tank top that they wore for the matches,” she said. “ I had to wear long sleeves. I couldn’t wear the spandex they wore because I had to wear sweatpants. I stood out like ‘Here’s Team Ibtihaj and here’s the rest of the team.’”

Earlier in the day, I met up with her in New York City to watch her train at a fencing studio in Manhattan. Her feet thunder towards her sparring partner Luther with the hopes of intimidating him. She tricks Luther to move forward by twirling her sabre around in a tease. She responds by crossing over to his other side and striking him with a winning blow.

She and I broke our fast later in the day at the Islamic Society of Central Jersey. The mosque there promoted our arrival there by advertising the community that we were going to fence each other inside the mosque. Over 200 people showed up to watch me get destroyed.

We both talked massive trash with each other leading up to the fight and after I lost, I asked her where she gets her strong sense of competition from.

“I’m very competitive by nature,” she said. “Like if we were playing checkers right now, I’d probably try to kill you in that too.

“Now that I can beat you in,” I replied back, pondering if I should load up the checkers app on my smartphone and let her know what’s up.

“Ok fine, I’ll probably lose, but I’m super competitive,” she replied. “Even when my sister and I are walking up the stairs from the train, we’ll race up the stairs. I can’t help it.”

Her competitive spirit also comes from her parents. Her father Eugene, a retired cop, said he and his wife pushed all their kids into playing sports.

“It occupies their time and doesn’t leave their time for idle stuff,” he said. “We figured between the homework and being involved in sports, they wouldn’t be involved in other activities that leave down a negative road.”

Ibtihaj trains full time as a fencer. Several fencing committees provide her grants to travel the world and compete in tournaments. The United States will only choose two women to represent them next year at the 2012 Olympics and she stands a good chance in making the cut. With all the attention she gets as of late, I ask her what I’ve been asking a lot of people on this trip, how she keeps herself in check.

“I never want to think too highly of myself because when you do, you’ve almost defeated yourself,” she said. “There’s nothing left for you to accomplish. If I don’t think of myself in the highest level, I know there’s still more I can attain and goals I can reach.

“You know, I am always shocked when people want my autograph or a picture with me,” she added. “But when you’re praying five times a day and keeping Allah in mind, I think it’s hard to lose yourself in the grandiose idea of stardom.”

Many of the people that came to the mosque to see her fence are young Muslim girls. They swarm her after the match asking her all sorts of questions. She said she’s embraced her public role with the hopes it can encourage young Muslim girls to excel at sports too.

By competing so intensely with some of the world’s best athletes, I asked her how she handles defeat.

“I’m never fully satisfied,” she said. “I feel like I always leave a competition upset at myself. Sometimes I come home feeling defeated even though I’ve made a final or two. I’m always critiquing myself and figuring out a way to some day (God willing) to win.”

I follow up by asking her how critiquing herself doesn’t lead to low self-esteem and insecurity.

“It’s tough to find that balance. My mom has to remind me all the time about how good I actually am. I think modesty is a huge part of being a good athlete. Look at Muhammad Ali, sure he portrayed publicly as an overly confident and cocky guy, but he’s a human being and at some level he had to be self-conscious.”

Her younger sister Faizah also fences. Ibtihaj said whenever she spars with her, she refuses to go easy on her.

“My sister is naturally gifted and has a natural knack for fencing,” she said. “For me, I always had to work hard to be good at it. I want her to realize if she took her natural abilities to work hard, she could be one of the best fencers in the world.”

Being in the public spotlight also comes with the territory of random people trying to holler at you, something I know too well.

“It’s funny when people in the audience are trying to propose to you when you walk into the match getting ready to fence like in one time when I was in Tunisia,” she said. “But I try to make light of everything because funny things always happen when you travel abroad.”

Being a formidable female athlete, I’m wonder if men find her to be intimidating.

“I think people find my personality intimidating period,” she said with a laugh. “I can be abrasive and sometimes curt. I feel like people would find that more offputting than me being an athlete.”

Her parents do ask her about when will she settle down and get married, but her father tells me they try not to pressure her.

The father unit.
The mom-inator.

“She’s had people inquire about her before” he said. “I tell them right now she’s so focused on fencing that even if she got married now, it might be a detriment to her marriage because she’s gone all the time.”

Sorry fellas.

Right now, she’s focused on training for the Olympics and trying to connect with young people interested in fencing.

“I remember when I started fencing, how mean some of the older athletes were to me,” she said. “So I always try to remind myself with these kids that I was once in their position. Even saying hi to them goes a long way. These kids, you’re the Michael Jordan of fencing to them. It’s really humbling to know that someone thinks that much of you when I feel like I’ve barely done anything and just getting started.”

By Bassam Tariq

Freeway spits a few verses inside an Indian grocery store during a segment we like to call “Saffron Cipher”

By Bassam Tariq

We’re in N. Smithfield, Rhode Island. Already had an earthquake on this trip, now comes a hurricane.

By Aman Ali

Freeway puckered his lips and stroked his fleecy facial hair as I asked him about the purple “Billionaire Beards Club” shirt he was wearing. Breaking out in the hip-hop scene on Jay-Z’s Roc-A-Fella label in the early 2000s, his distinct look brands an image into your brain just as much as his rhymes.

“I’m a Muslim,” he said. “So this beard, it’s an attribute of a Muslim. It’s a part of me, so I’m just doin what I’m doin normally.’

“Where I’m from here in Philadelphia, this city has a huge Islamic community so its normal,” he added. “Especially when you walk out in the streets out here, people know who I am so they don’t look at me like I’m going to blow up a plane.”

The Philadelphia Muslim community has its own charm to it. They’ve got this in-your-face and unapologetic pride in being Muslim. What also stands out is the community’s heavy influence from street culture. It’s not uncommon to see someone with a long beard and traditional Muslim garb accessorized by gold teeth and an iced-out watch. It’s hard to explain with words though, what may seem odd anywhere else is the beautiful norm here in Philly.

I met Freeway in downtown Philadelphia alongside three of his friends at a local Indian restaurant. One of them was Freeway’s barber, who points to my face and asks me where I got my beard lined up. I told him I did it myself in the bathroom when I woke up today.

“Well, I might have to ask you to grab a chair in my shop then,” he said with a laugh.

Philadelphia wasn’t a scheduled stop on our tour, but when Freeway’s manager reached out to us asking if we wanted to meet him, it was a no brainer for me to hang out with one of my favorite rappers I listened to in high school.

Freeway has a vibrant and unshakeable demeanor when he’s onstage rapping but in real life he can be a reserved man of a few words. He stares across the room and rubs his hands together in the air as he repeatedly takes a few moments for deep thought.

Freeway embraced Islam in his teenage years while growing up in Philadelphia. He prowled the city’s hip-hop scene battle rapping anyone who wanted to step into the ring with him.

“I just loved the music,” he said while reaching for a piece of tandoori chicken. “It was just something I knew I was good at. I always felt like I had a shot so I kept working at it. Whenever someone else blew up, I never hated on it. I always felt like I’d get my time too.”

Soon, rapper/mogul Jay-Z got word of Freeway’s talents and signed him to Roc-A-Fella records. Freeway became an overnight success with producers like Kanye West maestroing his debut album. That’s when he decided to go on Hajj for the first time in 2004 with Jakk Frost, a Philly rapper sitting next to him whose bond with Freeway goes beyond music.

Jakk Frost is a beast of a man. Words come out of his mouth with a thundering boom and just looking at his hands I know he could probably crush someone like crumpling up a piece of paper. But he offsets that with an affable tone in his voice. Speaking to him you get a sense of an incredibly deep sense of loyalty and friendship to Freeway, which is why Freeway brought him on Hajj in 2004.

“I wanted to go on Hajj because it’s part of my religion,” Freeway said. “It’s one of the five pillars of Islam and I finally had the free time and the money to do it.”

“And he had somebody to get on his nerves about it, hahahaha,” Jakk Frost said with a bellowing laugh.

Being in Saudi Arabia to make the holy pilgrimage was an eye opening experience for Freeway, especially when visiting the Kabah, the Islamic holy house Muslims all around the globe pray towards every day .

“When I got to Mecca and saw the Kabah, I just broke down and busted into tears,” he said. “I mean, this is the house that Abraham built. I’ve prayed to this place for a large part of my life. It just touched me man – it was a beautiful experience.”

It also started making him think about the decisions he was making in his own life.

“I buckled down,” he said. “Someone told me over there, ‘If you go back home and you’re doing the same things you were doing before, then you didn’t get anything out of your Hajj. I became more aware of what I was doing as far as how I was dealing with people and I tried to cut out a lot of extracurricular activities I was doing. You know, I was just trying to make my life better.”

He was one of the hottest rappers on the scene at the time but that Hajj trip also made him think about walking away from music altogether.

“When I’m rapping, people listen to my music and could be doing other things like remembering Allah,” he said. “The time I take to create the music, I could be doing other things too regarding Islam.”

Roc-A-Fella records slowly started to crumble shortly after because of internal management problems much to the shock of Freeway and fans like myself all around the world.

“We didn’t expect it,” he said. “We thought Roc-A-Fella was going to live forever. Just being in the mix of it, we thought it was never going to stop. “

Freeway is now signed to Rhymesayers Entertainment, an independent label featuring fellow 30 Mosques friend Brother Ali. He said he enjoys what he’s doing now and there’s no animosity with his Roc-A-Fella friends of the past.

“I’m still cool with everybody,” he said with a nod. “I talk to Jay still, so we’re good. The whole label thing may have fallen apart but the strong will survive.”

“Right now, I’m just grateful that 10 years later, I’m still relevant,” he added. “I’m thankful I still get 3-4 shows a month. And that sense of thankfulness, it comes from Islam.”

Freeway has never been ashamed of being Muslim, but it wasn’t until recent years when he decided to talk more publicly about his faith.

“I think it has a lot to do with me getting older and more mature,” he said. “It just naturally leads to me embracing it more.”

If he’s embracing the title of Muslim more, I asked him then about his lyrics. Some of his older work focused heavily on references to drug dealing and violence.

“These days, I really think about what I’m going to say because I don’t want to give people the wrong impression of something. Right now, what I rap about is my life in general. Being from the hood, I still have everyday struggles. I lost a lot of friends (to gun violence). Matter of fact, I just had a cousin that was killed.”

Being in the limelight is always a struggle for any Muslim wanting to keep his or her ego in check. Freeway said he tries to do it by reminding himself of a point early in his career. There’s an infamous video from 2001 where Freeway and his Roc-A-Fella labelmates walked into a radio station for an unforgettable freestyle session. But soon after in his career, there’s a video just as unforgettable of Freeway arguably losing a freestyle battle to a rapper named Cassidy.

“When I sit back and look back at that, I realize that was from Allah,” he said. “He always balances things out for me. Before I get too big headed he always puts me back in my place.”

“Looks like you’ve got this guy to keep you in your place too,” I quipped while pointing to Jakk Frost.

Jakk kicks his head back and thunders another laugh.

“It’s a reminder that Allah can bring people up and just smash them down like they’re nothing,” Jakk said while hammering his fist onto the table. “Like they’re nothing.’”

To this day, Freeway said he still struggles with why he’s doing music. Part of him still feels like what he’s doing is un-Islamic.

“The main reason I do music right now is to feed my family and I’m good at it,” he said. “No I don’t want to do this forever. Eventually I want to get my life together and life my life according to how a Muslim is supposed to do. But while I’m doing it, I’m doing everything else to the best of my ability to be a good Muslim – pray five times a day, fast during Ramadan, make Hajj.”

By Freeway’s side throughout the entire struggle has been Jakk Frost. The two met around 1996. For a while, it was Jakk Frost that was the better known rapper and Freeway the lesser known one. Now that the roles have changed over the years, I asked Freeway what he does to curb potential tension between the two.

“He’s my brother and he means a lot to me,” he said. “We’ve done so much together that’s more than music. All my friends, we have a bond, that sense of brotherhood that extends from Islam. That’s our core. That’s what we have that a lot of people don’t have.”

On CJRN AM 710, half an hour before Toronto Maghrib local sunset time, Reflections on Islam Radio program broadcasts from Niagara Falls into the Greater Toronto Area.

 

Read the rest of this entry »

Meet Adnan Sirajuddin. Toronto’s Muezzin.

Read the rest of this entry »

 

Day 25 – Qiyam ul Layl – Islamic Information & Dawah Centre

 

 

 

Day 25 – Masjid al Taqwa – 14 Ladysmith Avenue

 

 

Day 14 of Ramadan turned out to be the one where I broke fast in my neighbourhood masjid, the Islamic Information and Dawah Centre International, founded by Brother Shabbir Ally.

This is where I began the 30 Masjids journey on Day 0.

This would be my pit stop before continuing 30 Masjids into the second half of Ramadan…

Read the rest of this entry »

 

 By Elyas (@PirateSomali) in Columbus, Ohio

 

Salaamu Alaykum!

I am delighted to have the chance to contribute to Brother Syed’s Ramadan project. I’ve learned of his initiative through another blog run by two friends who are also doing the same project that Brother Syed is doing.

Since the two friends decided to steer their project in a controversial path I decided to have nothing to do with their blog.

So now I am following Brother Syed’s Ramadan project. Furthermore, I learned that the Brotha allows his guests to contribute to his project.

Realizing that, I decided why don’t I visit my local mosque and take pictures and videos.

So that’s what I’ve done.

 

 

Read the rest of this entry »

By Bassam Tariq

We find ourselves outside of a large house in Newark, Delaware that will soon be known as the Glasgow Community Masjid.

According to Murat Kose, a member of the community, there are about 15,000 to 20,000 Muslims in Delaware. About a thousand of them are Turkish. Many of them own businesses in the area.

“Every diner you go to in the city, it will be owned by a Turk.” Murat exclaims.

Murat came to Delaware for business as well. His background is in chemical engineer and he was working on his PhD when he decided to create his own telecom company. He now runs the local office of Zakat, an Islamic aid organization based in Chicago.

The congregation at the mosque is mostly Turkish as well. The imam, Mahmut is 25 years old. He came to Delaware through an Imam training program in Turkey. He recently married and now lives in the mosque.

“I really think you should have visited the other mosque.” Says Murat Kose. “It’s bigger and more people go there.”

But this is where I wanted to be. Being on the road for the past 24+ days, it feels nice to finally have our feet planted. Here, I didn’t hear Aman singing to bad 80′s songs. All I heard was the wind and the call to prayer. For once, I don’t feel like moving. I want to stay in place and get to know the people. These are the kind of mosques that I like to see, the ones with large, mismatched carpets and toys laying around. Where the kids are always running around and the tea is always brewing. I understand the need for larger mosque spaces but sometimes, the coziness and intimacy gets lost. It reminds me of the small communities we have visited this year and their unpretentious manners that bind them all together.

Inside the prayer space, the way the light falls from the windows is incredible. A man prays alone by the curtains. Outside the window, you see kids playing around the swings while a mother watches over. Many spaces we have visited this year are blanketed by industrial lights and commercial carpeting. This mosque, like Imam Jamil’s and many other house mosques, embraces its form and celebrates it.

Our time in Delaware gets cut short because of a prior commitment we made in another state. So we drive off in to the distance waving goodbye to Murat and Imam Mahmut.

Still I wonder, what it would’ve been like if we spent the night at the community. The tea drinking, the bad Turkish jokes, the short taraweeh prayer and, most of all, the nice comfortable home to rest in. Being on the road for so long takes a toll, but they say that prayer is better than sleep. So we continue on our way, there is more to see and claim as home.

By Aman Ali

Note: To ensure the safety and privacy of these women, they put on face veils and used different names in this interview to not reveal details about their identity.

Saima came to the U.S. from Pakistan for marriage. For lack of a better phrase, she went through four years of hell.

“I was in a different country and didn’t know the language,” she said in Urdu to me. “I had no family members here to help me. He forced me to stay in a basement, I was beaten, I was tortured and I was abused. I had no way communicating with my family for help.”

Just forming the words to talk about the abuse she went through is tough for her. She repeatedly pauses and looks the other way recollecting the details of the marriage she is seeking shelter from.

She’s one of many women here at Muslimat Al-Nisaa, a domestic violence shelter for Muslim women located in the heart of Baltimore. It might be the only shelter for battered Muslim women in this country. These women’s stories are a painful reminder of why the Muslim community can no longer sweep the issue of domestic violence under the rug.

“This isn’t about religion,” said Jamila Gardner, a longtime volunteer here. “It’s a matter of men and their disrespect. The sad thing is, it doesn’t matter what religion these kind of men have. They have this attitude of ‘You’re mine, I can do with you whatever I want.’ When in reality, Islam has freed women and given them the same rights as her husband.”

My hand trembles as I scribble in my notepad these women’s stories. I’m reminded of all the abuse I learned about growing up regarding several women in my family. As Saima tells me her story, I can’t help but think about the time as a kid I pulled bloody shards of glass out the back of one relative after her husband pushed her through a table. Or the time one woman begged me to make her laugh because it was the only thing stopping her from crying about all the fiery red belt marks that streaked across her soft skin.

Reading this is a downer, sure. But our sentiments pale in comparison to the women going through it like Sara, who fell in love and married a longtime friend before her tale of romance was torn to shreds by his abusive behavior.

“It feels like a train hitting you,” Sara said. “How do you keep all of this pain inside of you when you’ve just gone through a train wreck? When he makes you feel like ‘You’re responsible for it, it’s your fault. Why did you talk back? Keep your mouth shut.’”

Sara sits next to Saima and comforts her throughout the conversation. She grew up in England and speaks with a dash of British elegance when she articulates her story. She said when she first dealt with her husband’s abuse, she initially went to her local mosque for help, but to no avail. The men there either shrugged off her problems or said they didn’t know how to help.

“I’ll put it to you straight,” she said. “You Muslim men, not all of you, but the ones who pretend to be the best Muslims, you are ignorant. You look at your own daughters and sisters in a different way. You would treat them in a different way than other women in your community. You all have daughters and you all have sisters and mothers. It’s your job to protect the Muslim women in your community and stand up for them.”

Asma Hanif is the executive director of the center. She said when the shelter first opened in 2007, it was tough to get the Muslim community to support it because they were in denial the problem existed to begin with. Then came the case in 2009 when Aasiya Zubair was gruesomely beheaded by her husband

Asma Hanif, left, hangs on the gate of the Al-Nisa Women’s Shelter.
Asma Hanif stands at the door way of the shelter.

“It wasn’t until Aasiyah was beheaded, when the community said ‘Ok, we need to talk about domestic violence.’ This wasn’t something they could hide anymore.”

A few scholars in the Muslim community including Imam Zaid Shakir urged people to support An-Nisaa. But the shelter is still in dire need of support. Oftentimes, the shelter struggles to even cover its electric bill for the month.

“If somebody beheading their wife didn’t mobilize the community to do something about this, God, what would?” she said shaking her head before she paused. “…I can’t even answer that question.”

Asma is just as tenacious with her jokes as she is with her intolerance for apathy on this subject. After dealing with maddening case after case of abuse at the shelter, I asked her how she copes with the frustration.

“ I’m crazy, don’t you know that?” she quipped while rattling a backscratcher at me. “I’m like straight up Looney Tunes. I wear purple every day, come on. I’m straight up crazy, can’t you tell?”

“I tell people I cry every day,” she said while composing herself. “I meet these women and I hear all their sadness and sorrow playing in my head. Then I go into the community asking for help and all I hear is “No.”

Amy, left, sits with Tahira, left, in the small prayer space.
One of the many bedrooms in the shelter.

After dinner, I joined two women studying a few verses of Quran. One of them was Tahira, who was born Muslim but adopted by Christian parents. For years she dealt with verbal abuse from them and battled depression as a result. She even tried to commit suicide several times.

“My mother would yell at me all the time and tell me I was fat,” she said. “She would say my adopted parents gave me up because nobody wanted me. I knew that wasn’t the truth but it would still have an effect on me year after year.”

Sara told me in many cases, verbal abuse is just as bad as physical abuse, if not greater.

“Physical abuse is going to go away,” she said. “You’re going to heal and you’ll get better. But those emotional scars, those don’t go away. The verbal abuse, the anxiety you’re put through that leads to depression… that’s not something that’s easily swallowed.”

Tahira then discovered her Muslim roots and researched the religion before embracing Islam in April this year. Her family wanted no part of that and she’s now in the shelter as a safe haven.

“I’ve been a practicing Muslim for about four months,” she said. “I have a long way to go before I can open up my arms to them and say “Ok, I understand.” I still have a process to go through because emotionally I’m not ready.”

Considering her adopted parents abused her, I asked her if she ever wondered why they would even adopt her to begin with.

“Oh yeah, almost every day,” she said. “But there’s a reason for everything. This was Allah’s way of bringing me back to Islam and put me here in this town where there are a lot of good people here. It was Allah’s way of saying ‘I’m ready for you and have something in store for you.’”

The woman next to her, Amy, nodded in agreement. Amy dealt with several years of abuse from her husband as they raised children together. Both of them embraced Islam after getting married but things didn’t change.

“Embracing Islam together, I thought things would get better,” she said. “But he just didn’t want to practice.”

Amy’s son interrupts our conversation by walking up to me and rubbing my head.

“Mom, he’s bald!” he said with a giggle.

“I see you got jokes,” I retorted back. “I’ll tell you what, give me like 10 minutes more to talk to your mom and I’ll play a game with you where you can rub my head all you want. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said while shaking my hand.

Amy said she left her husband because he wanted her to stop practicing Islam. And that’s when enough was enough. Like Tahira, she too sees her struggle as divine plans for bigger and brighter things in her future.

“It was Allah’s plan” she said. “Everything happens for a reason. There’s a reason why I met my husband. If I would have never been with him, I would have never found Islam. It might have been a bad situation, but at the same time, it produced something beautiful.”

These stories are moving, but there’s a good chance in about five to ten minutes we’ll forget about them. Don’t. You probably know at least one person in your life dealing with abuse. Do everything you can to help them. If you think it’s a damn shame nobody is supporting this Muslim women’s shelter, put your money where your mouth is.

But whatever you do, don’t feel pity for these women. That’s not what they’re looking for. Pray for them. And pray that God gives you the same amount of strength and courage he gave them to deal with this.

 

You must first walk over a bridge if you want to pray in Thorncliffe Park’s Masjid Darus Salaam.

 

Read the rest of this entry »

 

Day 24 – Masjid Omar Farook – 4640 Kingston Road, Scarborough