Small but Impactful
A recent discussion with an old friend from high school made me think about how, although Islam is the third largest religion in the US, Muslims make up only 1.1% of the population. When I first found this out, it surprised me- I knew that I lived in a state with a lot of the country’s Muslims, but I never thought that it would literally be around 1%. Looking at the percentage of Indians in the US as an Indian Muslim myself, 1.2%, I’m sure that the intersection between the two is far smaller in magnitude. Yet being lucky enough to grow up in New Jersey and finding a robust Muslim community in my first year at college, I’ve never felt that percentage to be so small.
Knowing this makes me feel so much more grateful to those in my life (friends, coworkers, teachers) who take the time to understand my culture and religion. I’m especially grateful because of the negative perception of Muslims in the media as “terrorists” or “foreign” or “other”. I’d like to think that if I weren’t Muslim, I’d try to understand my Muslim friends, coworkers, or students the same as those in my life have to make me feel accepted, but I know that had I grown up in an environment not as accepting as this one, that might not be the case.
Even in a state with so many Desis and Muslims, the experience of growing up as a second-generation immigrant can make you hesitant to share parts of your culture and religion with others. I’m sure that everyone has stories about how people might have looked at school lunches parents lovingly packed them with disgust (“what’s that smell?”), or parts of your life that are simply normal to you dismissed (“I could never fast or pray five times a day”). When I talked to my roommate for the upcoming semester, these experiences were partly what made me afraid to explain how I would have to get up before sunrise to perform wudu and pray. I thought long and hard about the wording of my message and filled it with qualifications- that it would be silent, that it was just positions on a prayer mat- anxiously awaiting her response. When she did respond, she told me that it was totally fine, asking me, “Is there anything I shouldn’t do while you’re praying?”. She had seen a post talking about how people shouldn’t walk in front of Muslims while they were praying, and wanted to know if there were any other ways to accommodate this part of my life.
Her response filled me with relief and gratitude. She wasn’t simply okay with it, she wanted to learn more about how to respect it. It brought me back to another similar moment in high school, when my friend and I went to a cafe to study and she bought a grape soda. I was fasting that day, and before opening the can, my friend asked me if it was okay to drink soda in front of me. She’d heard on the radio that it might be impolite to drink in front of those who are fasting (when in reality it would lead to more reward), and I told her to go ahead. I’m sure she wanted to down the cool grape soda on that hot day, and it made me feel good that she asked first because she wanted to be polite- and that she had even thought of it. And another- when my AP Lang teacher passionately talked about how verses of the Qur’an that individuals use for nefarious purposes are taken completely out of context.
These moments were so small and likely forgotten by those who took those efforts to better understand my religion and culture, but they continue to have a big impact on me. Although I’d of course follow my religious obligations regardless of whether or not these moments happen, they made me feel less alone- accepted, even. I continue to be thankful for the people in my life who were raised with different religions and cultures who reached beyond the surface level perception of Muslims. Perhaps their presence in my life, along with the wonderful Muslim organizations at Rutgers, make the number of Muslims seem much larger than 1.1%.
By Anonymous
