A Fathers Fear

Stone Mountain, GA—The parking lot steadily fills. Pickup trucks, motorcycles—big and loud Harley’s, vans, and cars all find spaces, filling the lot from back to front. Confederate flags, that emblem commemorating a history of subjugation and 3/5ths humanity, are on bumper stickers, flags, antennas, and draped across truck beds and back windows. A  sea of white people bubble out of their vehicles, spilling out onto the asphalt of the lot. I'm out of view, thirty yards away walking a trail with my wife and three daughters, and for the first time in my life, the sickest feeling begins rising up in my core: the dread of any man. I realize that, in this place, I can't protect my family. I feel fear. And I’m angry that I’ve been caught off guard.

From an early age, probably around 7 or 8, I was drawn to history: African American history. My parents were avid readers whose literary interests spanned multiple genres from science fiction to Shakespeare, from biographies to philosophy, from newspapers to magazines, and even graphic novels. Our home felt like our own library; it felt like books were everywhere. We had at least two sets of encyclopedias. Encyclopedias, the Google of my childhood, fascinated me: knowing that I could go into these books and entertain (and satisfy) my curiosities was an indescribable joy, which consumed hours of my childhood. Among the books that arrested my curiosity and pinned down my attention for an entire summer was the Ebony Pictorial History of Black America: a three volume set; reaching back to African civilization, on to the transatlantic slave trade—where estimates as low as 1 million and as high as 2 million Africans perished on the voyage to the Americas— to the civil rights era.These books and the pictures within shaped my sensitivities, and my perception of race and the world.

From slavery through civil rights, the accounts and pictures in the Ebony Pictorial added weight to my soul. I recall looking at a picture of the 1930 lynching of two black men (Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith) in Marion, Indiana. They were surrounded by a sea of smiling, cheering white faces, some smiling at the camera and others smiling at their lifeless bodies. The effect was felt: in the mind of a little black boy on the southside of Chicago, reading the account and looking at the pictures of those hanging bodies; in that moment, I was afraid. I looked at the white faces. Grinning. Content. Aloof. At that point in my life had I walked into a room of white people I couldn't have felt more trepidation than if I were in a cage of wild dogs, or in the middle of the ocean surrounded by hungry sharks. I saw them as mindless predators—No, for even predators only kill to eat or in defense. These people killed out of a mind numbing, irrational, blinding hate.

I imagine what I felt, next to that lot of confederate flag holders, was but an inkling of the dread  generations of Black men who time, location, and circumstance proffered the same frightfully emasculating reality to; they could not protect themselves nor their families. I imagine the fear, the hate, and the anguish that must have flowed through them in them realizing that they were outnumbered, outgunned, and even a moral victory would allude them. As a man, no matter your race or ethnicity, having your ability to protect your family from external threats compromised, compromises your manhood.

To think that for generation after generation, the black man’s physical strength mocked him. His prowess was but a botheration to himself. His marriage was a sham. His progenitorship carrying all the weight of a bull-stud mating with cows; he had been systematically reduced to nothing more than a tool.

My family and I continued to walk the trail, heading back to our car. We continued walking, out of sight of that sea of white, until reaching the main road where we saw a police vehicle parked at the entrance of the lot.  Behind the wheel was a black man. I felt a weight lift off me. He looked to be in his early twenties but could pass for a high school senior. I spoke: “Good afternoon, Officer. Can you tell me what’s going on here?” He replied that it was some sort of reenactment. The only thing running through my mind was that they could have put up a sign or something alerting the public to what was taking place. As we emerged out onto the main road, we saw other African American faces whose countenance surely mirrored our own.

The dread. The fear. The anger. Each lies under the surface, unexpectedly raising its head with jaws agape, threatening, exposing teeth which have inflicted centuries of scars, threatening the lives we live today. How far have we come? How much further do we have to go?

I think about Religion, a lot. As Imam of a masjid, I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise.  However, my thoughts aren't centered around dogma or the mechanics of religion. I spend most of my time thinking about the end result of Religion, it’s product. The G-d conscious human being.  Based on our individual faith traditions, we call ourselves by different names, but I will use believer here as an umbrella term. At the center of each belief system is a character archetype (role model), for believers, exemplifying the G-d conscious human being, in action.

These character archetypes (Christ, Muhammad, Buddha,--On them be peace), serve as guideposts for our own behavior and character aspirations. They illumine the road to self mastery. If there is any role we play in our success or failure, it begins and ends with mastery of self. Mastery comes through conscious repetition of those exercises (e.g. prayer, fasting) which place us in the footsteps of those venerated scriptural models. When put into practice, we bear witness to the power of their implementation, reaping the benefits of what G-d has made incumbent upon us.

As believers, we recognize that no matter what we call ourselves, we will never be able to call ourselves done, or finished. We should see our faiths and their models of character as ways to  chart-- as well as correct-- our courses through life. The ongoing result of the Believers application of faith is an elevated consciousness. This consciousness manifests itself not only in moments of solitary reflection, or repentance, but through our displayed sensitivities--words-- and deeds in the public space.

Perhaps, by seeing one another as brothers and sisters in faith, struggling toward the same goal, we might better the world by bettering ourselves.

Clean Up

The person covered in dirt is the one most in need of a bath. We don't stop washing our hands, our faces, our feet, ourselves out of fear that we might get dirty, again. Everything gets dirty, yet it's our commitment to removing the dirt from ourselves, to washing the dirt away, that should define our lives, not the moments we fall into the dirt.

As people of faith trying to live a life in harmony with scripture and prophetic character, one of the first things to be done away with is the All or Nothing attitude; believing that unless you are living the perfect life each and every day makes you are not a disbeliever, or that holding onto your identity as a person of faith despite your mistakes and shortcomings makes you a hypocrite. If this is how you think, you are defeated before you begin.

I personally know of people raised in believing families, who self identify--albeit in private--as Muslims or Christians, but publicly remain silent regarding their faith out of embarrassment over the current state of their lives. To me, the most important possession of any person of faith, is a deep core belief in the mercy of G-d. That mercy gives us the space we need to move from momentary failures to lasting successes. Accepting G-d's mercy in our own lives allows for our redemption when we have fallen.

Designer Jeans

Imagine: You feel life slipping away with each breath. You feel the weight of your heart growing heavier with each beat. During this realization comes your final thoughts and words. You look around for familiar faces, a husband, a wife, a sister, or a brother, a child, even a friend and you ask...you ask about your collection of...of designer jeans...What? I know, that's totally out of place. Who, in their right mind, would be thinking about clothes, shoes, cars,--you know all the stuff we place so much importance on during our lives-- in their final moments?


What's interesting to me, and I know many have made the point previously, is that clarity seems to come when we see the end of things, coming near. Life is very much like a good book; we enjoy it, yet dread the finality of that ending punctuation. Knowing that the final period is coming, we take stock of everything we've experienced up to that point. We gloss over the trivial, and highlight the major moments. We look back at our failures, and own our victories, and quite possibly we may still harbor feelings that we could have done more. So what does any of this have to do with the title Designer Jeans? Everything.

We continue to find (or have heaped upon us) ways to stratify ourselves. From where we live, to what we drive, to what we wear, these are all used to assign a value to the owner. And, because we are willing participants in this determination of value we, in turn, devalue the true measure of a life's worth. Go through any "impoverished" area of any major U.S. city and you will find, young and old, walking about,wearing shoes-clothes--and jewelry--  that might suggest they are visitors from some far off affluent suburb. This is not the case. This is the effect of the culture of devaluation. No one wants to be poor. Everyone wants to be rich, and the surest way for a poor person attempting to avoid being judged as less than is to fool the world (in their estimation) by putting on, what they believe to be, the clothing of the rich.

Clothing has, and continues to serve multiple purposes. Our clothes can denote our professions (i.e. military, police, doctors, mail carriers, etc.); our clothes serve as a protection from the elements, and our clothes can also beautify us. But, to make a lowly determination of a persons worth as a human being based on the clothing they wear, and treat them as such, might turn out to be one of those things we'd like to take back when we take stock of our life's journey. Knowing what value G-d places on things gives us the guidelines on how to value and what to value. Of clothing G-d says:

"O children of Adam! We have indeed sent down to you clothing to cover your private parts, and (clothing) for beauty, and clothing of righteousness, that is the best. This is of the signs of Allah (G-d) that they may be mindful." Qur'an 7:26

The clothing of righteousness. The clothing of G-d conscious character is the best, and preferred clothing. To be impoverished, wearing tattered clothing, but to have G-d consciousness is better than being draped in designer originals, while forgetting the Most High. If this thinking was the basis of our struggling and how we place value, we would not waste time pretending to be something someone else wants us to be, but would exert every effort in becoming what we were made to be.

Today, let's appraise and live with the clarity we expect to have on the day we breathe our last breaths, looking back over our lives.

The Violence We Notice

Listening to a reporter interview a couple about the Capitol Hill shooting, and subsequent lock down: the reporter asked how their children were impacted by the situation; the wife responded, saying that they intentionally kept the details from their children, and that during the lockdown they were really only concerned with whether or not they had their iPads; she felt that them knowing someone had been shot, or had brought a gun into the Capitol would only serve to needlessly worry them and that preserving the innocence of her 5 and 9 year old was top priority. As a parent, I totally get it.

However, in Inner city neighborhoods, where the pop of gunfire breaks the silence with such regularity that its arrival is met with thoughtless crouches and automatic scurries to find cover, innocence is forgotten, even for a 5 and 9 year old.

In these high crime areas there is little hope of shielding our youth from an ugly reality: death is indiscriminate in its pickings, and closer than you think.

The public shock and anxiety we have been conditioned to respond with when violence finds its home in places we feel should be off limits is noticeably absent when it takes place in Inner city neighborhoods, in these spaces it(violence) is viewed as part of the self inflicted routine of dysfunction, poverty, crime, and apathy. Quite often, we blame the afflicted for their affliction.

That violence, reported with such different tones. Those perpetrating it, and those affected by it are painted with such different strokes depending on where it occurs, and the demographic impacted by it. This is, in and of itself, reason enough for outrage. If the innocence of one is worth protecting and preserving, then surely the innocence of all of our children are worth that same effort. And, in order to protect and preserve, violence should have no place where it goes unnoticed, unchallenged, and no place to call home.

Getting in Spiritual Shape. #Prayer #Charity

If you've ever been in really great physical shape, I mean, great cardio. Muscle tone. Perfectly fitting clothes. Contentment. Only to look up and find that you've lost your way, back to being out of shape-- the kind of shape that has you buying new clothes to fit your expanding waistline, and even making statements like "being fat isn't so bad, this donut is really good". It's then you might realize that the goal worth working for was a goal worth working to keep.


But, what does this have to do with faith? What does a fit body have to do with spiritual matters? Simple. For every endeavor, every interest, you will find common places and activities for those seeking excellence in that thing. Case in point: to get the great body that's thrown in our faces every single day of our lives, on billboards, ads on our cellphones & computers, commercials on television shows, and magazine ads we're likely to settle on the local gym as the place to start our journey toward that goal.

Step inside of that gym. Look around, and you're sure to see people at varying spots on the fitness curve, working their way toward their goals. From the beginner, to the intermediate, to the die-hard workout warriors, the common thread is the WORK which they've all committed to; they use the exercise machines, the scales, and the mirrors to guide and motivate them on their way. They congregated in this shared space to achieve their individual goals and once that goal is achieved they remain there to keep the gains they've made.

 Regarding the spirit, where is the mirror we look into to note how we have grown heavy with apathy, arrogance, and selfishness? Where is the scale to show the trudging weight of sin piled on our souls? Being able to look within ourselves to see our own excesses and shortcomings, and then finding that common space needed to begin the work of righting our souls, is largely an effort of honest self appraisal. And just like those working on their physical bodies, those seeking to transform their spiritual selves must also commit to the exercises and the behavior that would bring them the results they want.

So, what are the exercises of the spirit? Where are the spaces where you'll find those committed to the development of their spiritual selves? Where are the spiritual gyms?

"Those who rehearse the Book of G-d, establish regular Prayer, and spend (in Charity) out of what We have provided for them, secretly and openly, hope for a commerce that will never fail." Qur'an 35:29

The exercises are prayer & charity. The gym is the world, specifically every occasion where your voice, your hands, and your heart can be used to right a wrong, spread light on darkness, or lift a burden from another soul; those who commit themselves to lessening the burdens of others, find their own burdens lightened, and it's worthy to note, that when people come together committed to righting wrongs, spreading light on darkness, and lifting the burdens of oppression off of the afflicted, the results can be astounding.

Whether physical or spiritual, having a mental picture, a vision, of the type of shape you want to be in is key. Because, after the vision has been adopted then the workouts begin, the weekly weigh-in's, the meal planning, etc. As a Muslim, I have a specific mode of prayer--- particular to my faith tradition, but whatever your faith tradition may be, as a Believer, prayer lies at the center of faith. And our faith is punctuated through the charity, the service we give to the world.

We can't be people of faith without a tangible expression of that faith, so with that realization keep the following in mind:

1. Begin each day with prayer; this sets the course for your day, and will serve as your mirror.
2. Find (or start) a charitable effort, and commit yourself to that. It's not about the size of the effort, but about being consistent in that effort.  
3. Look for the opportunities to give of yourself that inevitably come across all of our paths; start from the inside out, family, friends, local community, larger community.

Once on the path, you'll find that there is no getting off of it. There is no such thing as putting in the work, getting results and being able to walk away. Walk away, and results go away. I'm praying that whatever you do, on whatever scale, you are successful and that you are blessed to do even more. May your faith be strengthened through your words and deeds. 

May G-d's peace be on you,

Tariq