The events in Mumbai this past weekend have left me in such a state of anger and frustration that I can hardly articulate anything.

At this time, all evidence gathered by various official agencies seem to point to radical Islamists possibly trained in Pakistan.  Because I have no more information than anyone else grasping at news by way of CNN, Google/BBC News and Twitterfeeds, I can only assume that culpability lies where the fingers are now pointing.

I suppose this is the part of the post where I begin to explain that radical Islamists are not representative of Islam in general.  The part where I define myself as a Muslim in contrast to the purveyors of horrific and inhumane acts.

The truth is, I am done doing that.  If a person wants to align me with the perpetrators of evil because we happen to pray in the same direction, I have resigned myself to that.

Hate will always hate because it knows nothing else.

As Muslims, we talk a lot about how we are different from the small group of people on this planet that are using Allah’s name to provoke fear, violence and murder.

We want people to understand that far more than violence, our faith has historically advocated humankind’s noble pursuits, as well: charity, love, literacy, justice and, yes, even tolerance.

So, when an act of terrorism takes place, we decry it.    We insist that these acts occur outside the defined limits for how Muslims are commanded by their Lord to behave concerning their world.

We condemn.

We explain.

Some people believe us, some do not.

Condemnation and explanation are critical.  I don’t diminish the need to do so.

But, I wonder about the intentions behind these condemnations.  Do they emanate from a desire to protect ourselves, or from a passionate commitment to actually end this violence?

As far as I’m concerned, self preservation should be secondary.

As terrorists use our religion to promote their agenda, we must formulate an agenda that counters theirs.

Instead of telling the world who we are not, we must show them who we are.

While they focus upon a misunderstood version of His vengeance and destruction, we must focus and promote the overall context of His justice, His patience, and His peace.

We should promote these qualities every single day, not just when some misguided person blows up a building.

We should be doing more than just condemning and explaining.

In my circle and family, the discussion among American Muslims regarding these acts inevitably turns to culpability.  “Let us examine the cause…”

Really?  Is that what the general population of Muslims in the United States should be doing?

Other than those among us that are academics, foreign/public policy advisers, politicians or international lawyers, I find discussions centered upon assigning blame in the greater context not only useless, but completely distracting.

We (and I use the term “we” loosely) want to point the finger at America, Israel, or India as we search for reasons for these perversions of our faith that have morphed it into a political ideology.

What would happen if a big world meeting took place tomorrow and it were decided that every single terrorist act that has ever occurred could be completely attributed to American foreign policy?  (I don’t believe this, and I’m only using this for the sake of argument).

Now what?

NOW. WHAT?

I apologize in advance for my sharpness, but I propose, my dear American brothers and sisters in Islam, that most of you will do what you have always done for the people of the world who suffer injustice, depredation and despair: mostly nothing.

My apologies to those who have acted, I don’t mean you.

But the rest of you, yes, I’m talking to you.

We don’t live in a world where your obligatory offerings of charity will suffice.  What you give as your obligation is between you and God.  But the state of the world requires more from you.

Sometimes I wonder if all this finger pointing is not an attempt to absolve a subconscious guilt that we may have ignored our own obligations in this situation.

Because deep, down inside, you know that you live in one of the most prosperous countries in the world.

Deep, down inside, you know that while you enjoy this prosperity, children live in despair, men and women endure unimaginable tortures, and countless others cannot rely on their governments for appropriate management of even the most basic of their needs.

And deep, down inside, you know that for you to enjoy the pleasures of prosperity while people on the other side of the world endure tribulations that you could not even conceive of were it not for your TV is completely contrary to the teachings of Islam.

You know these things.

And we deflect from these realities, dare I say responsibilities, by asking questions like, “Well, who burned down the hospitals?  Who created radical Islam? Who dropped the bombs in the first place?”

We distract ourselves with hyperbolic claims that it is all America’s fault.  Then, the Americans blame Al Qaeda.  And Al Qaeda blames Israel.  Israel blames Palestine.  Then, someone blames colonial Britain.  And it goes on and on.

In the end, Afghani children grow up in fear, the young adults of Iraq have little access to a proper education and countless others suffer in silence.

Because we are too damned busy arguing about how many angels fit on the head of a pin.

In classic Faiqa style, I’ll let you off the hook if you choose not to concern yourself with these matters.  I don’t hold you as a terrible person for not prioritizing human harmony.

I think it’s a little flawed, but I don’t judge.

I do ask, as a favor to me, that when you are in my presence, if you are not doing anything personally to reduce the utter ignorance and despair which has contributed to the insanity of radical political Islam, then, please, just shut up.

Do something, or shut up.  Your discussions without any actions are simply whining sessions.  Whining does nobody any good, at all.

Let the politicians argue, pontificate and discuss.

Let them live in their ivory towers where discussions of post-colonialism and radical Islam permeate the air.  Those discussions are important, but not every single one of us has to participate in them.

Our actions are far more valuable than our words, right now.

Let us look with our eyes at what is happening.

Let us forgo words for a time and work with our hands to change this world.

Growing up, there were very few Muslim families in our town.  Muslims have two major holidays that they celebrate: Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha.

Eids, though we always celebrated them, were an essentially private affair when I was growing up.  We celebrated by performing the Eid prayer as a community, eating food, getting money from our parents, going to the houses of our few Muslim friends and getting money from their parents, eating more food, taking off school as long as we didn’t have a test, and then, finally, eating even more food.  Come to think of it, I never really knew Eid in the sense of being a highly public or a “community affair” until I was about twenty, when the Muslim community in our area had grown significantly

In the public sense, though, I have always “celebrated” Christmas (my willingness to do so or not being pretty much irrelevant).

We didn’t have a Christmas tree or presents in my home, but outside of our home, we did celebrate.  Trips to the mall, local businesses, our friend’s houses, our own neighborhood and our schools offered us the richness of another religion’s culture and practice through decorations, class projects, music, specialty foods and general holiday spirit.  Somewhere in there, we may have even learned a little bit about how Jesus came into this world.

I think, for the most part, American Muslims are better for having been exposed to Christmas, and for viewing its public celebration.  I probably feel this way because I’m not one of those people that thinks you can be a better Muslim/Christian/Jew/Hindu/Etc. by acting like other religions don’t exist.  In the end, that just leads to unhealthy isolation, fear and hatred.

Obviously, though, there were no Eid decorations in downtown nor in our local mall.  Truth be told, neither my parents nor I minded much or even thought twice about that.  After all, the way my family saw it when I was growing up, Eid was not an American holiday.  I don’t feel that way now, but when I was growing up, “diversity” and “inclusion” weren’t as fashionable as they are today.

Imagine my surprise, then, when on a visit to my hometown on Saturday night, I pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store and saw this painted on one of the windows:

Nestled between Christmas, Thanksgiving and Hanukkah panels sits this one, proclaiming,  “Happy Eid Al Adha”.

I’m astounded by how much the world had changed since I was a child in this country.  I realize in places like New York and Chicago, Eid has to a degree been incorporated into public celebration, but I didn’t grow up in those places.  I grew up in a sandy beach town where the most diversity you could find was once a year at an annual Greek Orthodox festival.  By the way, I can positively attribute my fanatical love for a good gyros to those events.

I know we have a long way to go as a nation in terms of inclusion, but, really, so what?  That doesn’t make where we are right now any less important or amazing.

I’m excited for my daughter’s America, the one that will allow her to be a Muslim without the need for conscious compartmentalization. I’m overjoyed that there are, at the very least, some people in this country who’ve realized they don’t have to be afraid of us.  (This had become a serious problem after 9/11, though I never really encountered it when I was growing up).

Most importantly, though, I’m plain ecstatic to find that there are increasingly more people in this nation who see the differences between Americans as a source of pride and a thing of beauty instead of a source of chaos and dissonance.

I’m confident that more will follow suit.

And let us hope with this post that the rabidly partisan, liberal left wing nut job that has become Faiqa will go into hibernation for at least the next four years, if not the next eight.

In honor of this historic election day, I have a startling admission to make.  I hope you’re sitting down for this.

I, Faiqa, am a registered Republican.

Oh, yessssss.  I am.  And here’s how it happened:

Once upon a time, about five years ago, I was walking to class on the UCF campus when a clean cut young man approached me with a clipboard in his hand, “Ma’am, can I have a minute of your time?”

I was twenty minutes early for my class, being the nerd queen that I am, so I said, “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, ma’am, I’ve been collecting signatures for new legislation that would provide stiffer penalties for child molesters.  Would you be interested in signing this petition?”

Who doesn’t want stiffer penalties for child molesters?  I think that’s something everyone can agree on.  So, I agreed.

Now, you have to keep in mind as you read the following that I had never, ever been asked to sign a petition before that day.  So, there is some reasonable excuse for the utter stupidity that ensued.

I signed the petition after reading it because I am not a total moron.

“Oh, Ma’am, one more thing, I just need your driver’s license number.”

“Huh? Why do you need that?”

“We need to verify that you’re a voter in order to prove that the signature is legitmate.”

“Oh… O.K.” And this was the stupidest thing I have ever done.  Ever.  Never give someone your driver’s license number when signing a petition.  It is absolutely NOT required.

Three weeks later I received a letter in the mail from the Supervisor of Elections in my county.  Hmmm.  I wonder what this is?

It was a brand new voter registration card with the party affiliation now reading “REP.”  For Republican.

Mr. Clean-Cut-Who-Also-Hates-Child-Molesters had duped over a dozen other morons like myself into handing over their driver’s license numbers along with their signatures and had changed their party affiliations, as well.  This was verified by campus security who sent out an e-mail several weeks later.  I did not report this incident to the Supervisor of Elections because it was about two weeks before voting day, and I didn’t want my ability to vote to be compromised by this incident.

I’m still not clear on Mr. Clean-Cut’s motives.  The primaries were over, so it wasn’t like he was keeping Democrats from voting in their primary. And, for someone like me who was registered as an Independent, it made no difference whatsoever.

I still haven’t changed it.  Because, as I said, I’m an Independent and wouldn’t have been able to vote in my state’s primaries, anyway. And now, I suppose I could change it, but why?  I like it, it adds to the paradox that is me.  It’s my own little private joke about the fallibility of our system, I guess.  And about the fallibility of me.

It’s also a reminder of how wrong acting some people are for no good reason whatsoever.

That said, I’m ending this post with a meme RW posted a few days (weeks?) ago:

Who did you vote for and Why?

1996 – Bill Clinton.  Do I really have to tell you why?  OK, he wasn’t Bob Dole.  How’s that for a reason?

2000- George W. Bush.  First, because I was an idiot.  Second, this was the year that a group of Muslim Americans decided to “block vote” and they picked Dubya as their candidate.  Understandably, this was the year that I learned that voting the same as someone else because they are the same religion or ethnicity as you is not only asinine, but very unpatriotic.  You’ll be happy to know that from that election onward, I have always been an American first in the voting booth.  To my defense, I also had a bad feeling about Joe Lieberman.  And, now, we all know why.

2004 – John Kerry: Penance?  Penance for being a complete moron in 2000?  Let me say, however, that my vote for Kerry was, in fact, a vote against George W.  I still think Kerry was probably one of the least inspiring candidates in that election, if not in the history of the United States.

2008 - Barack, baby, Barack,  Because, yes we can.  Thanks to this meme, I’ve realized that this is the first election in which I have voted where I am actually voting for a politician instead of against one.

So, see, I’m not as monochromatic as some might think when it comes to politics.  In fact, some could reasonably argue that I have been, on at least two occasions, completely moronic.

I’ve been asleep since  Sunday morning around 5:00 A.M.  And I’m still tired.  Avi’s party was nothing less than spectacular. My only regret is that Sybil might have missed her flight because of me.  I owe you a ride to the airport, my dear.  So, you’ll have to come back really soon so I can alleviate my guilty conscious.

Anyway, even though I slept through most of Sunday, I do, in fact, have a Resolution Sunday.  So here it goes: I hereby declare this week “CASH ONLY” week.  With the exception of fuel, I will pay for everything in cash this week.  Why?  Because I have a feeling that I’m swiping away my sense of how much things cost by using the Check Card instead.

As for last week’s resolution to drink at leat 90ozs of water, that was actually really easy.  I drank an average of 120 ozs every day.  Well, I’m not counting Sunday.

If appropriate, I’d like to wish you a very Happy Diwali today!

Diwali by Pavana on Flickr

I hear you, “Now, what was Diwali, again?”

Go see for yourself here or here.