As the final weeks of my senior year in high school unfold, there has been a sense of uneasiness in the air. Not only does this anticipation come from the impending event of graduation and what the future brings, but also for the arrival of Ramadan, a month that has always touched my heart.
Ramadan is a holy month where Muslims fast from dusk to sunset for the duration of thirty days of the lunar calendar. Fasting is not only abstaining from food and drink (yes including water), but also as a start for many Muslims to cleanse their souls of previous wrongdoings. It is a month to improve ourselves and our connection to our faith, disciplining our minds and bodies in a way that reaps innumerable benefits.
Growing up in a Muslim household, I never really understood the importance of this religious obligation. I used to dread the long days of hearing my stomach fight itself and my throat scratch as I eagerly waited for the sun to set. As I have matured, I have realized not only the importance of participating in this holy month but also the effect it has had on me overall. I now see it as a time to cherish my family, my religion, and the blessings around me. Ramadan has been a profound journey during which I’ve gained invaluable lessons in patience, gratitude, self-control, the nurturing of personal character, and the essence of sacrifice for the collective good.
On March 11th, the first day of fasting, I eagerly awaited the start of Ramadan. Despite the foggy haze clouding my mind and the persistent urge to go back to sleep, I remembered that millions of Muslims worldwide were joining me in this journey. Yet, amidst my anticipation, I couldn’t ignore the struggles faced by our brothers and sisters in Palestine. Their hardships reminded me of our collective responsibility as a global Muslim community, prompting a heartfelt prayer for their relief and freedom.
Truthfully, I wouldn’t have understood the importance of this month without recognizing the suffering of my own people back in Palestine. For the past few months, they have been trying to survive through inhumane conditions, which has taught me what it really means to be grateful. I wake up every morning with a roof over my head, with food on my table, and without a fear that my life will come to an end at any second. I couldn’t imagine having to fight for my life while also trying to fulfill a religious obligation. For most of my life, I would wake up and complain about how thirsty or hungry I am without recognizing how fortunate I am to know where my next meal is coming from. The same can not be said about my family in Palestine who risks their life to pray inside Masjid Al-Aqsa surrounded by constant threats of being tear gassed and bombed. I have especially been humbled as I watch Palestinians in Gaza struggle to retrieve aid to even break their fast or watch childrens’ bodies shrivel up as they die of starvation. One story that truly resonated with me was that of Yazan Kafarneh, a 10 year old Palestinian who passed away from malnutrition. Seeing a picture of him in his last moments left me with a lump in my stomach as I was left to process how we could sit idly by and watch as children are forcibly starved by the very nations that claim to champion democracy and human rights. As a result, this Ramadan will forever hold a special place in my heart as I remember to reflect my blessings and my privileges. As a visibly Muslim woman that grew up in the shadow of 9/11, I knew that my religion was a grounding force in my life, especially when it came to proving who I was to my non-Muslim peers and preserving after Islamophobic incidents. However, in this political climate, I now understand that my religion plays a larger role in how I understand who I am in relation to other Muslims who live in worse conditions, but still somehow have the patience and strength from Islam to persevere in ways I thought was unimaginable. Now every bite I take, every sip of water I drink, and every prayer I make will be in remembrance of Palestinians and Muslims everywhere who truly embody the virtues of Islam this Ramadan.
As I continue on this Ramadan journey, my heart is heavy with the struggles of my brothers and sisters in Palestine, yet moved by the lessons of gratitude and resilience they pass on. This Ramadan, I hope to honor their sacrifice by cherishing my blessings and embodying the virtues of patience, gratitude, and compassion in every moment of this sacred month.
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