Peace and Quiet, from the Inside Out

It's never been difficult for me. To be me, that is. As a Muslim woman, I cover and I pray. It's just part of being me. As a woman from the D, I embody strength and perseverance. Again, it's just a part of being me. I am me, regardless of where I am. To be in the presence of other Muslims doesn't solidify my relationship with the Most High any more than being in the presence of non Muslims negates it. The Detroit arts and activist communities have accepted me, as I am. I'm often photographed holding my dhikr beads, I'm provided with cups for istijak, and offered space to pray. One of my most memorable moments happened at an artist friend's Mother's Day gathering. I asked her if there was somewhere I could pray, and she was like sure. I was fine praying at the top of the stairs, but she took me into the basement and gave me a rug. I was struck by her comment, "I know you need somewhere quiet and peaceful." I thanked her and said, "Not really, my salat makes my heart quiet and peaceful." Quiet and peaceful? I'm a mother. I haven't had a quiet and peaceful moment in a very, VERY long time. With infants, you try to be as quiet as possible so you can pray before the baby needs to be held, fed, or changed. With toddlers, prayer seems to be their favorite playtime. I've had many times where I was tackled, hit by flying toys, accompanied by shrieks and giggles...all while just trying to pray. As they grew, I often made prayers twice. Once to watch them to offer correction when needed, then again by myself. Prayer time has recently become a quiet and peaceful time in my home. My older boys are 15 and 13. One leads, and the other does the call to prayer. My youngest is almost 7, and tries so hard to be like his big brothers. I stand behind them, tearful at times. So many times, my prayers were the only time I felt quiet and peaceful inside. Now, my Suns are a part of the process. And I'm grateful. I am finally able to pray in a quiet and peaceful place. With them.