On my way to Chicago, I stopped in London's Heathrow airport for a two-hour layover. This was the first taste of the West I had in years. I still wore my black Hijab and Abaya, but with all the Muslims in the UK, it was not too big of a deal. I remember when I was in the waiting area and I saw people reading books as an entertainment. Not books on Qur'an interpretation, or classification on Prophetic Narrations-they were reading about girls talking about shopping and guys, or how a detective solved a murder mystery. No guilt hung over them because they were doing something unrelated to God. They were living their lives.
I boarded the plane and arrived at O'Hare hours later. I was scared I would be pulled aside and interroagted. After all, I was wearing black, and came from Saudi Arabia! No one stopped me. I was hot and sticky and feeling tired. A relative met me at the airport and I stayed with them in a suburb an hour away from Chicago. As we drove through the surrounding areas, I felt.. nothing. No happiness to be home. It did not even feel like home. I was so disappointed. I did not feel I had a home in Saudi, and I did not have a home in Chicago. Where was my home? What is home?
I did not feel comfortable with my Catholic relatives. I was still loyal to Islam, and the pictures of Jesus and the pork breakfasts intimidated and scared me. This suburb had no public transportation, so I could not go anywhere. My relatives were always busy and I stayed around the house mostly. I was not used to houses in general. I always felt that they more vulnerable than apartments, or condos. I would sometimes walk to a nearby Walmart that was 20 minutes away. I looked at the different people and did not know if I wanted to fit in or not. I began to buy different colored shawls to wear instead of my black Hijab. I was slowly trying to figure out where my place was.
My relative was constantly talking about Islam and again, being loyal, I would constantly become defensive and angry. I could not handle the pressure just yet. I decided to leave. I had a friend in Dallas, Texas that I met in Egypt. She used to be Christian and became Muslim and we were really close. I asked if I could move in with her and she was happy to have me. I moved to Dallas and was a lot happier with my new roommate, Ashley. I did not have a car, and the public transportation is not as efficient as it is in Chicago. It would depress me when I could not go out, but Ashley did try and take me out as much as she could. I felt that this would be where I would stay for now.
Lesson Learned: Many people get defensive when you ask them a question about their faith. My experience has showed me that they get defensive when they do not know the answer, nor understand it themselves. By asking them, and forcing them to think and doubt, you threaten their beliefs that are and have been a part of them and their family. In fear of losing the "rock-hard faith" they supposedly have, they will defend it.
