For the next couple of days, Inshallah, I will write something of an autobiography. But it won’t be a real, full autobiography. It will really be a look at the life in America as a Muslim. At least as I saw it.

I think this is important for many reasons. Despite the pressure put upon Muslims in America, Islam continues to grow. Much faster than I would have thought eight years ago when those planes crashed into the WTC.

There are so many things that I’ve personally experienced that is very different from most Americans. And my experiences are also very different from most American Muslim.

Yet, in many ways, my life is very typical. It is very American. And still very Muslim.

Here are a few things you should know about me before I begin:

1. I’m African-American
2. I’m very intelligent.
3. I’m very independent.
4. I don’t talk much.

Maybe one day I’ll write a better introduction. But for now, I think this will do. Let’s begin, shall we?

1970′s

I was born in 1976, so there isn’t much I can tell you about this decade. This much I do know:

My mother converted to Islam in 1970. She was living in New York City when she became Muslim. As a young women she was very involved in the Civil Rights movement. Most of my family is from the south, Alabama to be specific.

I don’t much about my father. I do know he had three wives at one point. I know he’s from Chicago. I know that he was a Black Israelite before becoming Muslim. I know he was in the military.

He literally disappeared one day while my mother was pregnant with me. We don’t know what happened to him, whether he died, was killed, arrested, or simply abandoned us.

Whatever the case, I don’t like talking about him too much. In fact, I think this may be the last time I’ll mention him.

1980′s

The Society

The 80′s were my formative years. I grew up in Brooklyn, New York and grew up around brothers and sisters from the DAR movement which started in Brooklyn.

I remember going to Masjid At-Taqwa a lot as a kid. In fact, Masjid At-Taqwa is the first mosque I remember. Imam Siraj Wahhaj was just as fiery back then as he is now. Masjid At-Taqwa has grown a lot since then, but I remember when it was very small and simple.

Masjid At-Taqwa had one little bathroom that brothers had to stand in line to use. It was the only place to make wudu (ablution) in the mosque back then.

The woman’s side was very small and separated from the man’s by just a curtain. As a kid I took martial arts classes with a brother named Ali who was actually a trained ninja.

Years later, as an adult, I would take martial arts classes again with his student Askia in a different city.

Looking back, the 80′s were actually rather carefree times for Muslims in NYC. The Muslim brothers that were serious about Islam seemed to command respect from the ghetto element in Brooklyn. Brothers walked the streets with turbans, long thowbs, boots, and full beards.

Certain Arabic words became part of our daily vernacular. Years later, they would filter into the street slang.

Words like:

• Akh (brother)
• Fuloos (money)
• Laa (no)
• Zawj (wife)
• Fitna (trouble)
• Nafs (desires)

So a brother could say something like: “Look akh, I’m tryin’ to stay away from that fitna and get me a zawj, man. But I just ain’t got the fuloos right now, so I just gotta say ‘Laa” to my nafs.”

Translation: “Look, brother/friend/sir, I’m trying to stay away from fornication and associated sins and find a compatible spouse. However, I do not have the funds at the time so I have to struggle to control my desires and lusts.”

We had Eid prayer at Prospect Park. There were Muslim day parades. There was a Muslim boy scout troop at Masjid Khalifah (also in Brooklyn) and a Muslim Cub Scout troop at Masjid At-Taqwa. There weren’t as many halal restaurants in Brooklyn as there are now, but there were still quite a few.

There were some good moments. I remember seeing Imam Siraaj on TV the day he and the other brothers from Masjid At-Taqwa kicked the drug dealers out of the crackhouses on that block.

I remember going to the Slave Theater just down the block from Masjid At-Taqwa to hear Reverend Al Sharpton speak.

This was not the decade that rap music was born, but it was the decade that rap came into maturity.

Living in NYC, rap was a way of life for many young black men. There were many Muslims who got into it also. There were several rap songs that alluded to the singer being Muslim. Or rappers who used Islamic terms in their music.

I know many people today would say that music and rap is haram. But there’s no way I can talk about growing up in Brooklyn without mentioning rap.

I loved rap. I don’t know why, but heck it was all around me. Even at school (I went to regular public schools throughout most of my childhood) you could see two or three young men huddled in a stairwell beat-boxing and rapping.

At lunch we would pound out beats on the table with our fists and hands while rapping our own songs or some of the more popular ones of the day.

And I memorized a lot of those same songs. Even today, I can still sing Slick Rick’s Mona Lisa and A Children’s Story word for word.

America

Every decade has to have a big, bad American enemy. Ronald Reagan was president throughout most of the 80′s and there were two big American enemies:

1. The USSR
2. Libya

As a kid of course, I didn’t understand much about foreign affairs. But I remember hearing how the U.S. bombed Moammar Ghaddafi’s home and killed his adopted daughter. I remember Lebanon being in a constant state of warfare. I remember hearing about the Marine barracks that was bombed. Even back then, I remember the Lockerbie bombing and how scared I was to fly in planes. I remember my mother calling Ronald Reagan every bad word she could think of (her favorite one was “that dog.”)

My Life As a Muslim

My life as a Muslim during the 80′s was probably typical for most young black men. During this time, we lived in Flatbush, the projects, and Bed-Stuy. It is only by the Mercy of Allah that, except for my love of rap music, I didn’t get caught up in the ghetto lifestyle.

Part of it was because my mother was very strict. I knew she would tear me up if I went too far. Another reason was that I was a bit of a nerd.

I wore thick glasses. I was tall. I was skinny. I loved books. I loved baseball.

Baseball may be America’s pastime, but it’s not that popular with most African Americans. Even back then, basketball and football were much more popular.

But I loved baseball more with its numbers and stats. And my favorite team (then and now) was the New York Mets.

Another thing that kept me out of harm, I believe, was that I always had a distinct fear of Allah. I was literally scared of going to hell for the things I knew were haraam (forbidden).

However, being a skinny, Muslim nerd with thick glasses was a recipe for disaster in Brooklyn, New York.

Every day was a test. Fights were common. There are only two ways to learn how to fight. Experience and training. I didn’t stick with my martial arts classes, so there wasn’t much training. And I didn’t run the streets so I didn’t get much experience.

But for some reason, I sure did get into a lot of fights. I got into fights at school. I got into fights going to school I got into fights playing baseball. I got into fights just minding my own damn business. I don’t know how many pairs of glasses I went through.

And being Muslim in school wasn’t very easy either. Maybe it’s different now, but I was always the only Muslim in my class, despite there being so many Muslims in New York. And I always wore a Kufi as a kid, so you knew the jokes and tests were going to come.

And then there were girls. Yes, the opposite sex was alluring to me even as a kid. I was always kinda poor so I never had really flashy clothes or sneakers. My glasses and kufi didn’t help. Plus I was shy as could be.

In hindsight, I know this was all for the best. Alhamdulillah I did lack self-confidence back then. I don’t know how I would have turned out if I had perfect vision, and could afford the newest Jordan’s (sneakers for those that don’t know), and could spit game like crazy.

Instead, I liked certain girls in secret, fantasized about them, but never got the nerve to do much more than stare.

I didn’t know much about Islam back then. I knew how to pray (to a certain extent). I knew four small surahs (chapters of Quran), and didn’t know them that well. I did not truly understand the role of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. I knew there was no god but Allah, but I don’t think I truly understood Islam.

But I know I wanted people to know I was Muslim. I know I wanted to be Muslim. I was never tempted to eat pork. In fact, I thought it was the most disgusting thing in the world (still do). I didn’t like eating any meat that wasn’t from Muslims. And there was nothing about Christianity that I found alluring.

Unfortunately, I didn’t pray all the time. My mother would make me pray when she was at home, but when she wasn’t I just skipped them or lied about them. By the time I was thirteen however, I started making all five of my prayers, though not always on time.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the 1980′s were my formative years. I grew up in the city where Malcolm X rose to fame and the African American Muslim culture began. I was a typical kid in many ways, but not a typical African American kid.

The story continues in Part 2…