From Racism to Islam *
Miracles Do Happen
By Marc Springer
My journey to Islam was not the usual one. Most white converts I have met
usually come from a
liberal and very open-minded background. My upbringing was far from this.
Both of my parents
were in the US military and my upbringing was very strict. My father was
very racist, and
because of this, I also was very racist myself until about the age of 24.
I can remember as a
child listening to my father lambaste and attack Arabs and Muslims and
bash their religion,
their way of life, and their race. As this was the way I was raised, this
is the position I
took as well.
I had a very troubled childhood, as the above can only begin to describe.
My father was an
alcoholic and very physically abusive. I grew up with the constant fear of
violence against
myself, my mother, my brother and my sister. Coming from such a
background, it only seemed
natural that I would seek a group of people to replace the family life
that I did not have at
home. The problem is, with the way I was raised, the people I sought this
companion****p from
were the worst of the worst.
For several years, I was heavily involved in the racist skinhead movement.
As with anything
else in my life, I was not content to be a follower, but always enjoyed
taking the lead. My
involvement in the neo-Nazi skinhead movement was the same. I was well
known and feared in the
town where I grew up.
My longing for family and friends, however, never killed the seed in my
heart that told me what
I was doing was wrong and unjust. I remember a Mexican schoolmate of mine
asking me, when I was
16, "Why do you hang out with those losers, you are better than that." He
was right, but I
guess there was a part of me that, even though I hated my father for what
he was doing to the
family, wanted to be just like him. That is where my racism and hatred
came from.
The situation at home became worse for me, so I was forced to move out on
my own. I think from
this moment this is what sealed my future as a Muslim — getting away from
my father and the
hatred that he felt, and experiencing the world and people on my own. The
next few years were
pretty rough on me and I continued for many years on the path that I had
started on. I was
drinking, doing drugs, and getting into very serious trouble with the law.
All the while, all
of the people I had sought to take the place of my family turned out to be
the worst sort of
people: violent, dishonest, and untrustworthy.
I left my home state when I was 23, and, for the first time in my life, I
was able to
experience life without the overwhelming figure of my father hanging over
me and the malign
influence of my friends. I started to see all of the carefully crafted
lies that my life was
based on crumble around me. I slowly saw all of the truths that my life
was based on unravel.
It is at this point that I started to question everything in my life,
including my religious
beliefs. I took the stance that everything in my life was suspect and had
to be reevaluated.
I had a girlfriend at the time whom I later married. She had also been
active in the racist
skinhead scene that I was involved with and I was always worried that I
might offend her with
my new ideas and way of thinking. I had always been an avid reader, and I
took the next couple
of years to read everything I could get my hands onto. This passion of
mine led me to collect a
small library of books that now consists of over a thousand volumes,
everything from Kant and
Descartes to Tariq Ramadan and Edward Said.
During this time, the Intifada was raging in Palestine. My father, racist
and anti-Semite
though he was, had always sup****ted the Jewish state. I now think that he
hated Jews, as well
as anyone else who wasn't white, but he hated the Arabs more than he hated
the Jews, so that is
why he sup****ted Israel. As I was rethinking everything I had been taught
when I was younger, I
decided to take a closer look at this struggle in the Middle East.
I started reading general books on Middle Eastern history and the national
politics of the
area. Again and again I found that I was having trouble understanding both
the history and
politics of the area because I didn't have any sort of understanding about
Islam. As a child, I
had attended church from time to time, but didn't have a firm grounding in
any religion. My
father had a hatred of Islam, so as a teen I had shared this hatred
without having a clue as to
what Islam was about or what Muslims believed. It goes without saying that
I had never met a
Muslim in my life.
So I started to look into Islam, its history and its beliefs. At this
time, the Internet was
gaining in popularity so I used both print and Internet sources to help me
gain an
understanding on the basics of Islam and its history. I was living in
Wa****ngton State and was
not aware of a Muslim community there, so there was really no one with
whom I could talk.
Shortly after this, my wife's job transferred her to England, so that was
all about to change.
When I got to England, my interests strayed for a while. I was in a new
country with a long and
rich history, so I spent a few years exploring this history and traveling
all over Europe. But
from time to time, events would draw my attention back to the Middle East
and the politics
there. I was now in a country with a long-standing and well-established
Muslim community,
although the town I lived in didn't have any such community. I began now
to read in earnest
about Islamic beliefs, ideology, and history. I also started reading the
Qur'an.
From the very beginning, certain things struck a chord with me and
answered doubts I had
always had concerning the religion I was raised in. I had always taken
issue with the idea that
God could have offspring. From my readings, I recognized this belief as
being derived from
pagan sources. Zeus, Odin, and numerous other pagan gods all had children.
In the case of Odin, his followers even believed that he had been hung on
a tree, much like
Christians believe that Jesus was hung on a cross. Odinists, the name
given to the followers of
this ancient northern European religion, also believed in a trinity of
sorts formed by Odin,
his son Thor, and his consort Freja. It was clear this innovation of the
Christians did not
have its basis in God, but in previous pagan beliefs.
The other issue that I had always struggled with was the concept of
original sin. The idea that
God could be so unjust as to hold myself and everyone else responsible for
the sins of others
who had died thousands of years before me just seemed so unjust. I had a
basic concept of God,
and the idea He could be so unjust to do such a thing just did not sit
well with me.
It always seemed to me that Christians just didn't have the answer to
these questions, and if
they did, their answers just reinforced these unjust positions. I looked
to Judaism, but that
religion offered more questions than answers as well. Their attitude
towards the prophets
(peace be upon them all) was disgraceful. Their religious texts accused
these greatest of men
of the most terrible crimes and I refused to believe God would pick such
men to lead His people
on earth. If Judaism held such beliefs, how could I look to them for
guidance?
It seemed clear that Islam had all of the answers. It cleared up the
confusion of the lie of
the trinity and asserted Jesus' true role as a prophet, and not as the son
of God. Islam
reveres all of the prophets and recognizes them for the great people they
were. In Islam and
the values it promotes, I saw the answer to my problems and questions, and
the future of
mankind. My main issue was to try implementing Islam in my life.
As I said before, I was married to a woman who came from the same
background as I did. She
didn't have an easy time dealing with my interest in this subject, whether
it be Islam or
Middle Eastern politics. I knew that the way I needed to change my life
was to start living in
a proper manner, but I knew this was going to cause us serious issues. It
eventually came to
the point where I would be unable to practice my new found religion and
stay married to this
woman, so we split up. Before I left England, I went with a young Lebanese
man I had met in
London and said my Shahadah in a mosque there.
When I left my ex-wife, I was forced to leave England. I would have loved
to stay there because
the op****tunity to learn about my newfound religion there would have been
great, but al-hamdu
lillah, I was to learn later why God chose this turn of events for me. I
quickly got a job
working for the US government in Alaska.
Of course, there is not much in the way of a Muslim community in Alaska,
and it is centered in
Anchorage and Fairbanks. I was working hundreds of miles from either of
these cities, so I took
the op****tunity to continue reading and searching for information
concerning Islam the best I
could, from the Internet and other sources.
I used to travel, from time to time, to the Wa****ngton DC area for
business. I made friends
within the Muslim community there. At this point, I had been thinking
about getting married. I
had been divorced for several years and I knew that one of the main ways
for Muslims to fulfill
their deen (religion) is through marriage.
I was a bit worried about this, being a convert. I knew that many Muslims
came from ethnic
backgrounds that would not be too welcoming of a white American convert
marrying their
daughter. This was compounded further because I had tattoos from my
teenage years, and I was
very uncertain that I would find a Muslim woman and her family that would
accept me.
A new friend of mine said that he knew of a sister who was looking to get
married, so he asked
her if it was OK to give me her number. I tried to call her when I first
got home, but she
wasn't there and I left a message. The next day I called her back, and we
talked for hours. We
exchanged e-mail addresses and for the next 3 days, we talked for dozens
of hours. We hardly
slept those first 3 days. I got so little sleep that I found myself
falling asleep at work. We
talked about all of the im****tant things that we would need to know to
make a successful
marriage work.
It was clear from the beginning that we had a lot in common, and that it
all centered around
our devotion to our faith and to God. I had this feeling that she was
meant for me. She was
such a good God-fearing Muslim woman and she had so much she could teach
me about the religion.
Not only could she teach me about religion, but she could also help me
with Arabic because she
was a native speaker. We talked on the phone and via e-mail for several
months.
Talking and e-mailing were wonderful, but we both knew that we had to meet
each other
face-to-face to see if the connection we had would still be there. Always
keeping God and our
religion in mind, we wanted to make sure we did everything halal and in
the proper manner. We
decided, with the permission of her family, that I would visit during
Ramadan of that year to
join the family for dinner and the breaking of the fast.
I was very nervous, and I think I had a right to be. There is one bit of
information I have
left out here and after I say this, you will understand my nerves. My wife
and her family are
from Saudi Arabia; both of her parents were born in Makkah. My earlier
fear of the cultural
issues that any prospective wife and her family might have with me were
compounded 100 percent
by this fact.
Trusting in God, and having a lump in my throat, I set off to meet this
wonderful woman and
what I supposed to be her intimidating family. I arrived in Wa****ngton DC
right before sundown,
collected my bags, and waited for a taxi. When it was my turn for a taxi,
I jumped in.
The taxi driver was wearing a red and white checkered gutra, or Arab
headdress. I greeted him
with "as-salamu `alaykum" and he returned the greeting. The sun had gone
down and he was just
breaking his fast with a date. He asked if I was fasting, and when I
replied in the positive,
he offered me one of his own dates to break my fast. It turned out this
nice older gentleman
was originally from Afghanistan, I saw this as a very positive sign.
After dropping off my luggage at my hotel, I proceeded to the family's
house with a traditional
gift of dates and incense in hand. As I got out of the taxi and started
walking up to the door,
I just said "bismillah" to myself and knew God would choose the best for
me. All sorts of
scenarios played through my mind. She would like me, but the family would
hate me. The family
wouldn't mind, but she would be indifferent. What if they liked me and I
didn't like them? The
20-foot walk from the curb to the door seemed to me like 20 miles.
Finally, I got to the door
and rang the bell.
What seemed to be a dozen people answered the door: family elders, people
my age, sisters,
sons, daughters, and family friends. I was warmly welcomed and asked to
come into the house.
After I entered, I was asked to take off my shoes and join the family in
the meal they had made
for me. It turned out, al-hamdu lillah, that I need not have been worried.
The family and I
took to each other instantly. In talking during the dinner and after, it
was clear that the
nice young woman and I had a connection that transcended the miles and the
phone line.
I came back to the Wa****ngton DC area that January, when we got married in
front of friends and
family. We took a nice honeymoon, and then I had to return to my work in
Alaska, which was not
to finish until the end of April. When it finished, I moved to the
Wa****ngton DC area and took
up a job with a division of my company. I have been here almost 2 years
now.
It is amazing, subhan Allah, how God led me from disbelief in a home
filled with hate and then
guided me to Him. At first glance, it might seem that in my childhood
house I couldn't have
been farther from Allah, but I would argue that this wasn't the case.
Allah was always there
looking out for me; He directed me through some dangerous and bad times to
become the man and
the Muslim that I am today.
People say that miracles do not happen today, but I would contend that my
story proves them wrong.
** Posted from http://www.teranews.com
**
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