My parents are self-described Islamists. My aunt and uncle are proud Salafis and my grandparents are… I don’t even know. They influenced my parents, but I don’t think they were as strict when it came to believing that Islam should rule people’s personal lives. I am very grateful for that, because I have found real friends in them. They didn't obsess over controlling the inner demons which I believed existed in me at the time. My parents left Indonesia for England 16 years ago and became very minor political leaders.
Eager, belligerent and extroverted, my early life was a series of threats to either ‘shut up’ or be at risk for being told to lock myself in my room. I hated that. Who could I talk to? Who could I ask my questions to? And so I began making up voices I could talk to. I admit they answered in gibberish, but then again, my questions were gibberish too. Why was I born? Why doesn’t God stop my parents from making me lock myself in my room? Isn’t he supposed to be merciful? And so on. My parents were obviously uncomfortable with such questions, but I was even more uncomfortable having such thoughts in my head and so I needed to voice them.
I eventually thought that there was something wrong with me. So I asked for ruqyah to be performed on me. After all, I was a devout little kid who needed reassurance that I wasn’t born to go into hell. It was the most horrible thing I ever went through. The ustadz treated me like I was a heavily contaminated vessel and held me at arm’s length whilst he uttered nonsensical du’as.
School was no haven for me. I was made to do work I’d done eons before. I made no friends and no one asked me join in their ring-a-ring-a-rosy dances. So be it. I made up imaginary friends and created whole worlds where they lived in. I became addicted to this universe where kids treated each other nicely, and where adults would answer my questions that I withdrew into myself every day.
Now, with a mind that seemed to run and on, there was a healing sense of humour that came with it. I seemed to see the funny side in everything. I learned to spot the inconsistencies and quirks of my parents’ beliefs and found it funny. I learned to poke jokes at religion and recount them to my parents. Needless to say, I was shunned even more.
I am now 16, and not at all sure of anything. I know the limits of my mind, but I do not use that as an excuse to stop thinking about God and religion. I still wear the hijab, live under my parents’ roof, read the Quran, and play-pray. I am still unable to shut up of my own will, and therefore am at risk of being disowned. But then again, I still hold onto the crutch that is Islam, so I don’t say anything exceptionally radical.
I’d say I’m lucky. I really do think so. My parents show remnants of compassion sometimes and that is when I have hope. Hope that someday, I will live with my own beliefs and practice them and have my parents support me.
I am incredibly happy to have found this forum and consider most of you to be mates already.
Thanks for listening
Constantine Levin
(anyone else interested in Tolstoy?)
Topic: You Should Try Shutting Up