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 Topic: My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.

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  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     OP - June 29, 2013, 11:17 PM

    This is my story- hopefully not too long.

    I had an unstable childhood, always being sent to live with different relatives, coming 'home' from school to find my mom there to bring me to where ever she was living at the time only to be sent off a few months later. Needless to say, I was lonely and never had a chance to develop friendships.

    I was 14 when Sep 11th happened, and I was living with my paternal Grandparents in a rural part of America. Until that moment, I had never heard of Islam but I was searching for meaning in life. I had visited every Christian denomination possible and explored my Jewish roots. Islam was new and the promise of equality as well as being cared for, was very appealing. I tried to learn Arabic online, I joined Islamic chatrooms and downloaded English nasheeds. At the age of 16, I moved to a university town with some friends and met real, life Muslims who were from Turkey. It was exciting to be friends with people from another country. They seemed very exotic! They were not at all religious but occasionally were able to answer questions I had. I started imagining what my life would be like if I married a Muslim man. Islam states that women are to be taken care of but they have many rights. If they chose to work, for instance, all their money is THEIRS alone and the husband must contribute to the household entirely on his own.

    Through mutual friends, I met a wonderful Turkish man, when I was 16 and he was 24. He was moderately religious- he was the only person I knew who prayed. We became very close, very quickly and I can't say anything negative about him. He suffered from depression and struggled with his religion. I really started to love him. Long story with that is- after about a year, his depression caused him to drop out of university and his dad ordered him back to Turkey.

    Although I had been interested in Islam for several years at this point, I had never converted. At 17, I finally did. Looking back, I didn't really believe in Islam 100% but rather, I thought of all the major religions, it was the most appealing.

    I met a man in an Islamic chat room online who claimed to be an Islamic scholar. He often read lectures in the chat room and had a lot of followers in the room, especially Western women. I started talking to him regularly and he seemed especially interested in me among the others. As silly as it sounds, I felt special. He often gave the story of my conversion at such a young age as an example in his lectures.

    He was from India but lived in Saudi Arabia for much of his childhood. He shared a lot of details about his life with me and doted on me. He started inviting me to visit him in India. He said he had a separate apartment where I could stay and I could study at a school that his family helped to support (and his siblings worked there). He said he would help me become a great Muslim woman and then I could go back to the US and be an example to the American people. I really started considering it, I got my passport and lied to my family, saying I was going to India to teach English for a few months.

    The man (I will call him Mustafa) bought my ticket- round trip. He said it was a gift because I had the light of Allah and had converted. He constantly told me how special I was and how important I was for the Ummah. By now I was 18 and there were 3 months or so until I was to go to India. He started telling me that he felt Allah wanted him to marry me, that he loved me, etc and I got sucked into it. He said it was fate that brought us together. He promised me anything I wanted and showed me pictures of a house he was building, for when he was married.

    I did tell him I loved him back, but I tried my best to maintain a distance and never agreed to marry him. He said he respected me, that I was his Muslim sister and just come and meet him, stay the three months we agreed and if I decided in that three months to marry him, he could change my return date and we would marry.

    Because he portrayed himself as a Alim and Hafiz, an Islamic teacher and a man who went to Hajj three times, I believed him 100%.

    I boarded the plane for the long journey and arrived at 2AM in the hottest time of the year in India. He was there to meet me, looking so innocent and excited. We hugged and he pecked me on the cheek. He immediately pulled out his cell phone and told me to call my father so he knew I was ok. I thought that was very sweet. He told me that his friend was coming with the car and his mom and aunt were also coming to greet me at the airport- when the car came, I saw his mom and aunt, fully covered in Niqab and I was surprised. I had never seen anyone like that before.

    We went to his house and was greeted by his entire family, including grandparents. His grandfather spoke English and told me, "Welcome, we are happy to have you in our home. Tonight you will sleep with my granddaughters but in the morning we will show you your own apartment upstairs." So, this was the apartment that was "close" to his home! It was directly above it, actually.

    I laid on the marble floor, on a carpet in the room that his mom shared with his two unmarried sisters. There was no bed. I cried silently, overwhelmed by how different everything was.

    In the morning, I woke to a house full of people- lots of relatives and neighbors were there, cooking and laughing. I ate and didn't see Mustafa for hours. Finally he emerged from a room and didn't even glance at me, he spoke a few words to his mom and went to shower. His mom and sisters spoke English but could not understand my accent. They told me we were going to the mosque and to put on a burka. They helped me tie a hijab, since I had never worn one before.

    I didn't understand WHY we were going to a Mosque- I knew women typically did not do so. In fact, his mom and sisters didn't go, but the aunt who had been in the car that night before did, along with her husband and Mustafa and his friend, who drove us.

    At the Mosque, I was asked to formally accept Islam. I had said the Shahada before, so I had no problem in doing it again. I was given a certificate saying I had accepted Islam and we went to a passport photo place and a notary. I thought it was odd- I had literally arrived in the country a few hours earlier but I didn't ask questions.

    When we got back to the house even more people were there and all the women hugged me and kissed me and said congratulations. I assumed it was a party to celebrate me embracing Islam. It was overwhelming- the heat, the language, the women all wearing Hijab and no one could understand what I said. I hadn't even gotten to talk to Mustafa alone. I started crying and the women brought Mustafa to talk to me. He asked me why I was crying and didn't I love him? I said I did- he said "I know we agreed to wait until 3 months past before we married, but my family says we must marry today, it is shameful to have you in our house unless we are married and all the neighbors will talk, you know I will take care of you always and so will my family."
    I didn't answer and he said, "Ok, if you don't want to marry me, I will tell my family, don't worry. You can go back to the US tomorrow and we will remain friends but you can't stay here." He was speaking very calmly and thoughts raced through my head- if I went back home tomorrow, I would be teased endlessly by everyone who told me not to go to India! and... Mustafa IS a sweet man, we'd known each other online for about 9 months... he is a Hafiz, how would I find such a great man?

    So, I agreed to marry him. Less than 24 hours in India and we were married. We were married just after midnight and went upstairs to consummate our marriage.


    MORE LATER! I didn't realize it would be so long..
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #1 - June 30, 2013, 04:34 AM

    Wow!  Your story has some aspects which are very similar to mine (read in intro section). Looking forward to reading the rest of our story.

    Welcome, btw, and here's your parrot.  parrot

    Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

    The sleeper has awakened -  Dune

    Give a man a fish, and you'll feed him for a day Give him a religion, and he'll starve to death while praying for a fish!
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #2 - June 30, 2013, 05:18 AM

    Welcome, happy to see you've found this forum.

    I'm hooked on your story. I'm apprehensive about what I'm going to read in the rest of your story though. I pray that the man you married turned out to have a bit more decency in him than I currently give him credit for.

    Nour: do you mind posting a link? I'm not very good at finding things.

    Hi
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #3 - June 30, 2013, 09:55 AM

    Hi Kismet, welcome to the forum. Thanks for writing such an honest introduction. You've been through so much and it can't be easy sharing such personal experience, but you have found a place where people will understand completely what you've been through, and what you're feeling now.


    "we can smell traitors and country haters"


    God is Love.
    Love is Blind. Stevie Wonder is blind. Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #4 - June 30, 2013, 12:42 PM

    Welcome to the forum Kismet, after reading your story I'm beginning to wonder if there's a textbook for 'online sheiks' on how to groom and entrap western women into marrying them, as I've heard other stories similar to yours. It'll explain why every teenage jerk aspires to becoming a sheik/da'ee of some description.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #5 - June 30, 2013, 02:31 PM

    What an intriguing introduction!
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #6 - June 30, 2013, 02:36 PM

    Nour, Kismet

    Have you read this book?

    http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Convert-Tale-Exile-Extremism/dp/1555975828

    About Maryam Jameelah, an American woman who went to Pakistan and was adopted by Maududi and wrote propaganda books for Jamat-e-Islami about the evils of the non Muslim world.

    I see Maryam Jameelah in so many female converts.


    "we can smell traitors and country haters"


    God is Love.
    Love is Blind. Stevie Wonder is blind. Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #7 - July 01, 2013, 02:16 AM

    Thanks everyone for your replies- I did the that book, just about a year ago. Very interesting and I guess my story is kind of a more modern version of hers.

    PART 2

    I was so young and naive. Although I didn't expect to marry the man (We'll call him Mustafa) I decided to try my best to accept it- clearly, this was my fate and was what Allah wanted for me. The morning after our marriage, I awoke to the sound of the call to prayer coming in all different directions. Even now, that sound is hauntingly beautiful. I tried to wake my new husband up but he refused to get up- he pulled me back to the bed and said he wanted to stay with his bride. I was, in a way, flattered that this Moulana chose me over his duty to Allah- how special was I?

    For the first few days, he rarely left my side. He was so sweet and thoughtful. After about a week, he said he needed to get back to work, he was a "businessman" and so, I was left alone in the empty apartment from about 11am until 11 or 12 at night. I went downstairs to eat, because we had no stove or fridge. His mom was worried about me being alone upstairs at night, so I would sit in the front room of their house waiting for my husband to come home every night.

    He took me out occasionally, to parks and such. We would do the shopping for the household. One day, just about 3 weeks after our marriage, we went to the vegetable market early in the morning and when we got back, he told me to cook him some eggs. His family appeared to still be sleeping and honestly, I didn't know my role in the household or the cultural expectations of a daughter-in-law. I cooked my husband some eggs and his sister came out of her room and started yelling at him. I didn't know what it was about, but they started arguing and he slapped her and ordered me upstairs.

    I was absolutely shocked. I could hear the whole family arguing and it continued for some time. Eventually he came upstairs, looking very upset. He said I was never to go downstairs to his family's home because they hated me. He said he would bring home food for me and we would go shopping for furniture. He told me to make a list of everything we needed for our apartment and we would go later that day. He left, saying he had to attend to some business and would be back with some food, etc in 2 hours.

    He came home after 11pm, without any food. I had not even anything all day and had just a small amount of water. In India, the tap water is not safe to drink and there was a tap outside the house that turned on every other day for an hour or so. It was stored in large blue barrels inside his parents house.

    I was very angry and wouldn't talk to him. He didn't even realize that I'd been without food all day. Once he asked for water and I said there is none, he realized his mistake and told me to wear my burka- we went out to eat and he showered me with attention.

    We never did go shopping for furniture or a stove to cook on. I relied on him bringing home food, late at night. I didn't even have a phone or a clock on the wall, as crazy as that sounds. As soon as he came home, I would rush to embrace him and snatch his phone from his breast pocket to see what time it was. It was usually after 11pm and sometimes as late as 2AM when he finally came home.

    For several weeks life continued like this. He would sometimes bring home fruit and bread for me to eat while he was gone and usually he brought home dinner. I didn't complain too much. Honestly, it was so insanely hot that I just dozed off and on all day and once he was home, I ate and was wide awake. I didn't talk to his family at all and rarely left the apartment except to go up to the roof once the sunset.

    One night, I decided to pray Isha on the rooftop and after I finished, I turned to see Mustafa watching me. He was home early- it was maybe 10pm. I asked if he already prayed Isha and he said, very annoyed, "I pray every prayer except Fajr, which I make up later in the day. You don't need to act like my mother." He went back into the apartment.

    I started bugging him to take me out to a restaurant. I was hungry and bored. He said he had been working all day and was tired. Well, I was tired of never going out so I planned on going to a nearby chaat (snack) place to get something by myself. He had given me 10,000 rupees as my dowry and I kept it in a box. I dressed in my burka and practiced in my head how to order my favorite Indian snack in Urdu. I went to the box to take out some money and found it was gone.

    I woke Mustafa up and asked him where my dowry was. He saw I was in my burka and I guess maybe he thought I was trying to take my dowry and run off, when actually I just needed 10 rupees for a snack! He grabbed my arms and started shaking me, yelling. I started crying and he slapped me. We'd been married maybe 6 weeks at this point. I quickly ran out of the apartment and down the street. Within minutes, I heard his motorcycle and he stopped, telling me he was sorry and to get on the bike. He drove around for over an hour and honestly, I enjoyed it just being outside. He took me to a lake and said he had put my dowry money in a save place because he was worried one of the little cousins might take it if they came upstairs.

    After he slapped me, I purposely withdrew from him but I depended on him for everything. I cried everyday and held on to him like a child, when he was home. I tried to make him happy but I didn't speak much to him.

    Shortly after the instance when he first slapped me, we were moving things in the apartment- one of the bedrooms was being used as a storage room and I decided that it would be better to sleep in there because the sun didn't shine in as much. He told me to go downstairs and bring him some food. It was past midnight at this point and I had seriously not been in their house since he slapped his sister about a month before. I refused to go downstairs and we started arguing. He punched me in the face and just went crazy. I decided that I would show him that he can't treat me like that so I went after him, kicking and punching too!

    He was so shocked, he sat on the floor and cried like a baby. Victory for me! I was sure he'd never hit me again. He ran downstairs and got his mom, who was asleep and told her that I was crazy and she needed to talk to me

    It turned out, he had brought some a large amount of food from a restaurant that night and left it in his family's house. It also turned out that he had been spending several hours everyday downstairs when I thought he was gone. He was using the computer and sitting in the nice, air conditioned rooms while I was roasting upstairs, all alone with nothing to do.

    He was telling his family that I refused to go down to visit them and he was telling me how much his family hated me! His mom, who spoke English very well, asked me why I refused to come downstairs, that they loved me and it was causing a lot of tension in the family. Once I told her what Mustafa had been telling me and that he forbade me to go downstairs, she started yelling at him.

    I formed an alliance with his mom and sisters. His dad had died a few years before. I actually became close to his family and grew to love them. They taught me a lot about Islam. Eventually, I decided that we should move downstairs into their home because there was A/C and computers with internet and a fridge with cold water, not to mention people to talk to!

    We fought a lot but I still loved him so, so much. His family told me that he actually improved a lot since we were married. Before our marriage, he was gone all night at internet cafes, etc and yelled a lot. I found out that he had sold the houses his father worked hard to build for his sisters for their marriage gifts- he spent some of that money bringing ME to India and was "investing" the rest. His family argued with him a lot about it and at first, I thought they were fighting with him because of me (which is what he told me)

    I picked up Urdu fairly quickly. His Grandfather lived in the house and taught me formally for an hour or so per day. I enjoyed life in India, with his family. I started going out on my own, shopping and whatnot. I would go with his mom to visit relatives and really stopped relying on him for companionship.

    Since we moved downstairs, his mom had taken to banging on our door in the morning to wake him for Fajr. This man had a fist size beard, wore kurta pajama and a topi everyday but didn't pray. I had been given a book called "The Ideal Muslim Bride" or something similar, that said that it was the wife's duty to bring her husband closer to Islam. I got some Islamic books in English and started reading them out loud when he was sitting on the computer at home, hoping that would help.

    One day, we had a huge fight and he climbed on top of me and choked me. I had just gotten my ears pierced and they started bleeding, I passed out. When I awoke, he was dressing to go out. Both my eyes were extremely bloodshot, ears bleeding and I had bruises on my neck. I really feel like I almost died. His family could clearly see what happened by looking at me, but never said anything. I didn't talk to him for probably 2 weeks. Still, I didn't want to admit defeat and go back to my family, a divorced woman.
    I started the hate him in my heart, because he was such a hypocrite. I started pitying him, too. I thought.. if he doesn't believe in Islam, that is his choice but living here, he is forced to pretend that he does. Then I decided we should try to go to the US. Maybe there, he would be happier and start to practice Islam, once people stopped forcing him.

    11 months into the marriage, we went to the US embassy in Delhi. It was the first time that I'd ever really been alone with him except at night and I thought we'd have a lot of fun- we ended up fighting in the hotel because he brought back some whiskey and tried to make me drink with him! He said yes, it's Haram but we can ask forgiveness and no matter what I do, I will be sinning- if I drink, it will be a sin and if I refuse to obey him, it will be a sin.

    After we got back from Delhi, I found out I was pregnant and he didn't want me to tell his family. I waited a few weeks and his mother ended up asking me. I couldn't hold anything down, so it was obvious. She took me to all my doctors appointments and managed all the details. Mustafa did not seem interested in my pregnancy at all and refused to even touch my stomach to feel the baby move. He was gone even more than usual, saying he had to earn money for the baby and our move to the US.

    About a month before the baby was born, he got his visa.

    My son was about 3 weeks overdue when the doctor told me she wanted to induce me. I went with my mother in law and aunt to the maternity hospital early in the morning and Mustafa promised to come soon. He eventually showed up, talked to his mom and left again. In the city we lived in, there are two common languages. I understood Urdu but not the other language. After a few hours, the doctor and my MIL started talking in the other language for some reason. They told me "Soon you will go to the delivery room" I thought- WOW! This labor thing is quick. They had induced me and my water and broke, and I was having mild contractions. I couldn't believe it was almost time to push.

    It wasn't. They had decided that I should have a c-section instead and didn't tell me. I hadn't been able to talk to Mustafa and I wanted to talk to him before I went into the delivery room. He wasn't around. They wheeled me into a room and shoved a catheter into me without anesthesia and I started freaking out- why were they doing that?? That is when they told me I was having a c-section. Finally someone had found Mustafa and he came to talk to me for a minute- no words of encouragement or anything.

    The csection was proformed until General Anesthesia and I woke up calling for them to bring my baby. I had a had recovery and didn't even get to hold my baby until the 2nd day. My MIL slept with him and I was so jealous :( Finally I demanded to hold him and Mustafa brought him to me and when I held the baby, he told me I was holding him wrong and took him back and put my son in the bassinet. I just cried.

    They did let me choose the baby's name- I chose a good, strong Islamic name for my big strong son. The maternity hospital didn't have running hot water- the attendants brought buckets of hot water to the room so it was decided, without asking me, that MIL would take the baby home and wash him and bring him back. She went on the back of my husbands motorcycle, side saddle, holding a 2 day old baby. She took him home, showered him, stopped at a relatives house to show him off and finally, several hours later, brought him back to the hospital.  I was having a hard time recovering and they tried to convince me to let them take him home to stay and I would stay at the hospital. I refused, crying so MIL stayed with me, taking care of the baby.

    Finally, five days later, I was discharged and we needed to fill out the birth certificate. They had put the Islamic name they had given me on the "Mother" part, and I explained that it needed to match the name on my passport or I couldn't get him a US passport. They wouldn't listen to me.

    I started getting paranoid- MIL was taking care of the baby, bottlefeeding him (The doctor said I was too weak to even try to nurse) I tried to start breastfeeding him once we were home, but it didn't go well. He was used to the bottle by then. I knew that the US embassy would not accept a birth certificate without MY name being on it, so I emailed them and waited for a reply. After I got the reply I expected, I showed my INLAWS and Mustafa had to bribe the hospital to issue a new birth certificate with the proper info on it.

    I would be sleeping with the baby next to me and wake up to find the baby gone and the house empty- they would take the baby visiting neighbors and relatives without informing me. I became even more paranoid that they were trying to keep my son away from me and wouldn't want me to take him back to the US.

    Eventually, we got his US passport issued (he was 3 weeks old) and I started having second thoughts about going to the US with Mustafa. I tried to get him to go by himself and stay with friends there until he found a job, but he refused to go without me. As I expected, he and his family started telling me it would be better for the baby to stay there with them, because I would probably need to get a job too.

    I said either I stay with the baby in India or he comes with us and Mustafa finally surrendered and bought our tickets to the US.

    We came to the US when my son was 3 months old and it was 2 years exactly since I'd come to India. On the plane, he told me to remove my burka and hijab. He didn't want us to be judged. I was secretly happy- maybe he would accept that he was not a true Muslim and be true to himself!

    END OF PART 2

    I am struggling with how to go about part 3- it will need to be much more vague because I don't want to be identified easily. Basically, once we were in the US, he got a job working at an Islamic school but his hypocrisy was realized quickly. He became more erratic and crazy. He tried to control my every movement and actually did it.

    He drank alcohol and met women off craigslist.

    I kept telling him to stop being a hypocrite- he was in America now, he could be himself. Clearly, he didn't believe in Islam. He had never prayed in the four years we lived together. He started mocking me while I prayed. He started talking bad about me to our young son and once, when I was sick and my son was about a year old, I asked him to please take my son with him when he went to visit his friends because I was very sick. He came home that night without my son- he said I was a terrible mother and he had given him to a good Muslim woman who would take good care of him. I told him if my son wasn't back home in one hour I would call the police. He brought him back but never told me where he had been.

    TO BE CONTINUED
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #8 - July 01, 2013, 03:04 AM

    Wow, unbelievable.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #9 - July 01, 2013, 03:28 AM

    Welcome Kismet,
    What an extraordinary story, the sense of a living prison in India runs deep, can't imagine how you survived 2 years of that hell.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #10 - July 01, 2013, 03:42 AM

    I did feel like a prisoner in the beginning but once we started sleeping downstairs, I actually became close to his family. They were extremely religious and the entire neighborhood was the same. All the women wore Niqab (I never did.. just hijab) and it just felt normal. I guess I was used to adapting, because of the childhood I had had. After about six months of marriage, I started going out on my own a lot and also went with his mom and sisters- it just seemed normal. I thought it was my duty as a wife to conform.

    The funny thing is, although he pretended to be so religious when we were communicating online, he never talked about religion once I was in India, ever. He never forced Hijab, for instance- I wanted to wear it and the Burka, well, no big deal.. everyone else was wearing it. He basically overlooked me unless it was "bedtime"

    I became very close to his family and I still think they are good people, but wrongly guided and unfortunately no one ever stood up to him, being the eldest son and in fact, the eldest cousin on both sides of his family. One thing that united me with his family was actually, they said he was less violent since we married and if I asked him for something for the household, he would bring it when before he would fight with his mom or sisters if they asked for something (Like to bring cooking oil or whatever)

    In a way, I thought he loved me but just had a lot of struggles with Shaitan Smiley haha and I accepted it was my duty to be as pious as possible and pray he would see the light.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #11 - July 01, 2013, 04:40 AM

    The mention of a prison is actually ironic because he didn't try to control me once we were living with his family downstairs. I would even go overnight to his aunts house without informing him first. I guess he thought I couldn't get into any trouble there.

    Once we were in the US it was very different. For a short time, we stayed with a family of American converts- a wife, husband and their 4 small children. I didn't have a cell phone and neither did the wife. One day, a woman from the neighborhood came by to invite us to a women's lecture taking place in a nearby house. Since we didn't have a phone, we didn't think to "Ask" our husbands and just left a note in the kitchen. When we came back, the men came home early, we were gone- they saw the note. The woman's husband was a little annoyed but mine was FURIOUS- he slapped me around in front of the couple and all the children. For going 1 block away to a women's lecture!

    It just went worse from there. He was acting very erratic and unsafely and would stalk me. If I said I was going to a certain place at a certain time, I better be- he would check up on me! I would go to the library with my son and find him parked in the parking lot. When he was supposed to be working, he'd park his car down the block and walk up to the house, peaking in the windows. Just paranoid stuff.

    Still, I was completely into the Islam thing- I just told myself that this was my struggle and my job was to overcome. I took care of my son and by the time he was 18 months, he could recognize all the ABC's in English and Arabic when I wrote them randomly on a chalkboard. When my husband saw this, he decided the boy MUST go back to India ASAP to become a hafiz like him. He started pushing for me to allow my son to go live with his family and promised that I could get a job if I let him go back. There was no way I was parting with my son!!

    He was teaching at an Islamic school and soon his hypocrisy was discovered, they were trying to find another teacher and had cut his hours in half and ordered a parent be in the class at all times, because the kids were saying he hit them or pulled their ears. It was embarrassing to be married to him. I didn't have any friends, partly because he was so controlling but also because rumors about him were widespread.

    When my son was two, things were rapidly going downhill. He would mock me while I was praying and make my son repeat things like, "Mama is bad! Mama is crazy!" and that is really when I decided to leave him. I wanted my son to grow up as a pious Muslim but his father was unstable and a laughing stock in our community. He, however, had suddenly started spending 5 hours a day on the phone, complaining to his family and any friend who would want the phone how terrible America was and how he needed to send his son back to India. He got the boy a PIO card (Person of Indian Origin- allows you to live in India permanently) and started asking anyone who was headed back to India for holiday to take him.

    I found out I was pregnant and he was so angry with me. He became very scary at this point. I didn't have a cell phone (I had lost it on the light rail and he refused to buy me a new one)and I would wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone, with my son. He would come back hours later, laughing and saying he just took his son for a milkshake (one thing he loved about America was the 24 hour drive thrus and milk shakes!) He was trying to force me to have an abortion and one day, instead of taking me grocery shopping like we planned, he stopped in front of planned parenthood and told through his checkbook at me and told me to go get an abortion.

    I wanted to leave but didn't know where to go. I didn't have a cell phone while he was gone and no money. I was in my own country but felt helpless. One day, I went to the library and in the ladies restroom was a pile of cards for a domestic violence hotline. I hid it and about a week later while he was showering for work, I hid his cellphone. He looked everywhere and was furious but left without it. I called the number and told my story- the lady was very alarmed and told me that I needed to leave right away. Especially with him acting irrational with my son and trying to force me to have an abortion.

    At one point, he told me I could keep the baby if I let him take the older child to India. I couldn't believe him!

    I felt constantly on alert. I knew something was going to happen but felt helpless. He was becoming more and more scary,  just fuming all the time.

    When I was 14 weeks pregnant, he again was in the shower (the only time his phone was not in his hand!) and his phone rang- the name that showed up said "TRAVEL AGENT" and I was curious. He always looked at fares online and still wanted to take my son- I had hidden his passport just in case. The person on the phone was NOT a travel agent but actually a whore he met on Craigslist. She said he had told her that he had divorced me and I had abandoned my son, so he had sent the child to live in India. She told me that he was having threesomes with her and her husband!

    I confronted him once he was out of the shower and he said nothing. I tried to get him to talk- to repent, to admit- anything and he was deadly silent. Finally, without saying anything, he grabbed me and started to choke me, kneeing me in the stomach until I fell to the ground. My two year old son was sitting on the bed and started screaming. He left me alone and tried to pick up my son to comfort him but the baby ran to me. Somehow, i still don't know how- I ran out of the house with my son AND his cellphone. I called 911. The police came, he was arrested and they took me to the hospital for observation.

    That was the scariest moment of my life. I was so afraid they would take my son away from me- how could I stay in the hospital AND care for a toddler? But they admitted me and allowed my son to stay. He laid on the bed with me and watched TV for the first time in his life.

    The police came to talk to me in the morning and said that he would most likely be released that day and I needed to grab whatever I could from the house and go into hiding. I was released from the hospital (thankfully the baby was ok!) and I went to my house, grabbed a dufflebag of clothes and our important documents and left. I went to the courthouse and got a restraining order (I didn't even know one existed-the police helped me so much) and while I was waiting, a woman from the DA arranged for me to stay in a Domestic Violence shelter.

    He was released from jail that same day and he called a lot of people to tell them what had happened. I had his cell phone and I called the one person I thought would help me (An older Muslim woman we knew) and she did indeed help me. We became the talk of the Muslim community- they love to gossip and aside from the one woman, no one would help me.

    He violated the restraining order within 2-3 days and was arrested again and held until the trial. For the first time, I could sleep. My son had only a few toy cars and a chalkboard in our house. In the hospital he had watched Dora the Explorer and fell in love. I went to the store and bought him a Dora playset and he was in love! He spent hours with that toy.

    I was able to remove what little money was in his bank account while he was in jail and got assistance from the state.

    I decided to attend the mosque but was completely shunned. As much as they gossiped about how bad "MOULANA SAHIB" was while we were together, they demonized ME for getting him arrested. Everyone avoided me like the plague. I was honestly surprised. I never intended to talk bad about him, in fact. I just wanted to have some support. I found out that people were visiting him in jail everyday and that they had pooled money together to hire a lawyer for him. Even after he had been accused of hitting their kids, pulling their ears. Even after they saw what a bad Muslim he was.. even after he attacked his pregnant wife.

    I stayed at the shelter as long as I could. They only allowed 6 weeks. I was out with my son one day and ran into another convert woman who I had been kind of friends with (one of the only people my husband let me socialize with) and told her soon I would need to leave the shelter. She promised to come and get me later that week and let me stay in a townhouse they owned that was empty. I felt such relief! On the appointed day, I called her to ask what time she would be there- she said, "I am sorry sister, but we cannot help you. Only Allah can help you" and hung up. I had to leave the shelter that day and I had nowhere to go.

    I stayed three nights in a motel and called other shelters everyday, trying to get a spot. I couldn't afford to keep staying in motels and ended up sleeping in some bushes near the public library I used to go to- where I had found the card for the DV hotline. Luckily it was summer. I had to call a number at 7AM everyday to see if there was space in a shelter.

    I called the older woman and told her we were sleeping outside- she paid for a week in a motel but said that was all she could do. So, a week later, we were back. It took a total of 16 days to get into another shelter and we spent 6 of those nights outside. Even on those nights we slept outside, I felt grateful that we were free.

    After the trial, where he was convicted but released on time served and given probation I decided to leave the state. It's been three years now and I have two healthy, happy sons. I filed for divorce and he showed up for the divorce hearing but never requested to visit my sons. He never met the youngest boy who is now almost 3.

    For about a year after I left him, I still considered myself Muslim.  I prayed, wore hijab, went to the mosque in my new city but something had change. I realized that I never really believed in God but just hoped to. I had mistaken the feeling of calmness that comes over anyone from time to time to be God's presence. I thought that if I did everything correctly, that calmness would come more often.

    Now, I consider myself an Atheist. I won't go into all the reasons I believe Islam (and all religions) are wrong intellectually. Once, while I was still married, mormons came to our house.

    My husband was eager to let them in and try to convert them to Islam. I remember saying to them, "You really believe that a man in America found gold scrolls and was anointed as a prophet? Only two hundred years ago?" One of the young boys looked at me and said, "Is it any crazier than believing God talked to Muhammad in a cave, 1400 years ago?"

    Nope, not any crazier than that Smiley

    Leaving Islam wasn't hard. Of course, I had no ties to a community. I had attended a mosque in my town for about a year and saw all the hypocrisy. I remember thinking I was so outraged but then thinking to myself, "Am I really? Goes it matter at all?" I realized that I was a hypocrite too. I believed nothing I was supposed to. I thought it was OK for a man to marry a man, for instance. I had the mindset of "Live and let live" and that just doesn't jive with Islam!

    Taking off the Hijab was nice. My elder son was about 3 and a half and he was shocked, kept trying to force me to put it on before we left the house.

    Honestly, I miss praying. I loved waking up early in the morning to pray. It brought me such peace and helped me a lot but it isn't any different from meditation or quiet mindfulness. I still wake up early sometimes and enjoy the silence and if I happen to pass gas, I don't have to get up to wash myself again before resuming my meditation Smiley

    I have had zero communication with my ex in three years. I haven't talked to his family. I completed cut off all ties. The only thing I mourn is the fact that my children will not know their family but I cannot expose them to Islam. When they're older, I will try to explain to them. For now, they are happy kids who are taught to respect everyone and to ASK QUESTIONS!
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #12 - July 01, 2013, 08:21 AM

    nucking futs!  I hope you can find some peace now.

    Oh my Christopher Hitchens its a fihrrrrrrrrrrrr
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #13 - July 01, 2013, 09:03 AM

    we ended up fighting in the hotel because he brought back some whiskey and tried to make me drink with him!


    Oh boy, that's beautiful.


    "we can smell traitors and country haters"


    God is Love.
    Love is Blind. Stevie Wonder is blind. Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #14 - July 01, 2013, 09:07 AM

    The person on the phone was NOT a travel agent but actually a whore he met on Craigslist.


    I know hypocrisy amongst pious Muslim men shouldn't surprise us anymore its so common but it still is capable of inspiring disgust isn't it.

    What a life you have lived. So glad you have managed to find yourself in the aftermath of this. Glad you're here on our forum now kismet.

    "we can smell traitors and country haters"


    God is Love.
    Love is Blind. Stevie Wonder is blind. Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #15 - July 01, 2013, 09:11 AM

    Quote
    My husband was eager to let them in and try to convert them to Islam. I remember saying to them, "You really believe that a man in America found gold scrolls and was anointed as a prophet? Only two hundred years ago?" One of the young boys looked at me and said, "Is it any crazier than believing God talked to Muhammad in a cave, 1400 years ago?"


    I'd love to have seen the expression on your husband's face after he said that  Grin

    "we can smell traitors and country haters"


    God is Love.
    Love is Blind. Stevie Wonder is blind. Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #16 - July 01, 2013, 11:01 AM

    Touching story, I wish you peace as I'm sure so many of the others here do.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #17 - July 01, 2013, 10:38 PM

    Would you like the kids to meet their grandparents one day? Do the grandparents even want contact?

    Its just they seemed OK, as you say just misguided?


    Late Eid Mubarak, Where's my eidee present ?
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #18 - July 02, 2013, 02:51 AM

    Thank you everyone for the warm welcome and for reading my insanely long story!!

    I would like them to know my ex's family but it is impossible. They have no idea that I am no longer Muslim and if it was found out, I do worry that my ex would try to exercise visitations with the children to indoctrinate them.

    I occasionally show my kids pictures of their father and his family and only tell happy things about them
    I struggle with how to explain the religion to them. My older son still remembers going to the mosque and also remembers the Nasheeds we used to listen to (Even after two years) My kids are still quite young but I worry they might someday find Islam appealing as I did- yet, I don't want to talk bad about anyone's beliefs, I want them to remain as innocent as possible.

    That is one of the things I hope to get support regarding, from this great forum. 



  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #19 - July 02, 2013, 08:51 PM

    Kismet, that was an amazing story. Welcome, and congratulations for escaping your brutal husband.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #20 - July 03, 2013, 01:22 AM

    Wow what a story. This is why I can never consider a Muslim man as a prospect life partner, and it is frustrating because I come from an Arab, Muslim country.

    I am glad you are doing well now.
    All the best.

    VV
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #21 - July 03, 2013, 01:56 AM

    Wow!  Just,... Wow.

    May you find peace in your life.

     far away hug

    Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

    The sleeper has awakened -  Dune

    Give a man a fish, and you'll feed him for a day Give him a religion, and he'll starve to death while praying for a fish!
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #22 - July 03, 2013, 03:53 AM

    Thank you for sharing your incredible story. I'm glad you are safe now. Stay strong sister.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #23 - July 04, 2013, 01:23 PM


    Thanks for sharing your story kismet, and congrats on making it back and keeping your children.  And fuck those worthless people pretending to be your sisters, leaving you out to dry when you needed help.  Hope you find comfort and security from now on.

    Hugs   far away hug
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #24 - July 19, 2013, 02:40 PM

    I cried reading this.

    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #25 - July 19, 2013, 04:16 PM

    Thank you for sharing your story Kismet. That was very moving and emotional. I am glad that you managed to escape the clutches of your husband. I hope you are able to slowly rebuild your life and I'm sure you and your kids will find much happiness together.

    Welcome to the forum!  Smiley

  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #26 - July 19, 2013, 05:25 PM

    Holy Moly kismet!

    I read this thread in one go! And I normally have problems focusing!

    I think you just blew this Jinn's mind!

    Crazy, amazing and very touching background you have there!

    I SO need to give you a hug now! far away hug

    And a somewhat late welcome parrot parrot

    Quote
    Both my eyes were extremely bloodshot, ears bleeding and I had bruises on my neck. I really feel like I almost died

    You almost did. Those are physical signs on that. Oh my!

    I'm extremely happy to hear you are safe now after that ordeal. Best wishes and more hugs from a non-Muslim in Denmark - and again, welcome Smiley Stay around. Your story telling skillz are really good!

    Danish Never-Moose adopted by the kind people on the CEMB-forum
    Ex-Muslim chat (Unaffliated with CEMB). Safari users: Use "#ex-muslims" as the channel name. CEMB chat thread.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #27 - July 19, 2013, 06:25 PM

    Thank you everyone for the warm welcome and for reading my insanely long story!!

    I would like them to know my ex's family but it is impossible. They have no idea that I am no longer Muslim and if it was found out, I do worry that my ex would try to exercise visitations with the children to indoctrinate them.

    I occasionally show my kids pictures of their father and his family and only tell happy things about them
    I struggle with how to explain the religion to them. My older son still remembers going to the mosque and also remembers the Nasheeds we used to listen to (Even after two years) My kids are still quite young but I worry they might someday find Islam appealing as I did- yet, I don't want to talk bad about anyone's beliefs, I want them to remain as innocent as possible.

    That is one of the things I hope to get support regarding, from this great forum.  






    Welcome Kismet, I read the whole story and wow, I am so happy you are free from him.  It's amazing how those who profess to be the most religious are the worst hypocrites, I should know, my ex husband was the same.  Complete hypocrites.

    Good to hear you are back on your feet, but also pretty shocked at the shelter system in the US, out in 6 weeks?  that is so ridiculous.  How scary that must have been for you.  In the UK you don't leave until you have been housed by the government, in order to ensure you don't feel forced to return to the violence.  That is terrible, can't imagine how you stayed so strong in the face of homelessness.  

    Truly, amazing and strong.  

    As to you son remembering the religion, that is going to fade.  My kids are not likely to find Islam appealing when they grow up, since I constantly challenge religious beliefs and always have something to say when they have religious education homework.

    I try my best to ensure that they always consider the religion from all angles and see whether it gels with their liberal attitudes.  Fingers crossed it works.

    So if you worry about that, make sure you do the same.  Keep educating your boys, and you won't have to worry.  

    Again, so happy for you that you have been free of that awful nightmare for these years, and happy to have you onboard.  hugs

    Inhale the good shit, exhale the bullshit.
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #28 - July 19, 2013, 06:44 PM

    Hello Kismet. Please read the Quran, the Hadiths, the Sunnah on your own without the help of any Islamic "scholar" and learn the truth about Islam. You will see that the "truth" in Islam is ugly. Whatever you do, please do not make your children Muslims. The Prophet Muhammad married 6 year old Ayesha when he was 53, older than her father. Do you really want your sons to emulate a pedophile? Please think. You were a victim of a Muslim man and Islam, don't let your sons become victims of Islam too.

    वासुदैव कुटुम्बकम्
    Entire World is One Family
    سارا سنسار ايک پريوار ہے
  • My story of marrying a Muslim man abroad at 18 years old.
     Reply #29 - July 20, 2013, 12:10 AM

    Just wanted you to know that I've read it all.  Still feeling anger over the whole ordeal, fucking hypocrites everywhere, in the end we have only ourselves to rely on.  I was hoping all the way that it wouldn't turn life-threateningly violent in your part 3 since most stories and real life experiences end up like this.  Anyway, glad to hear you're free of that living nightmare.

    An amazing, heartfelt and touching story.  Many thanks for sharing.  Afro

    EDIT: This is probably the anti-theism coming out of me, but I concur with the above poster on doing all you can to not let your children fall to the same fate.  Islam is like a virus, once it latches on (especially at the young age) it may never go away and will instead spread and infect others.

    "If a monster existed, it was buried deep within."
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