Faith & Doubt
1 min
I Left Islam at 22. I Came Back at 30.
It wasn't logic that pulled me away. It was exhaustion. And it wasn't theology that brought me back. It was mercy.
Revert journeys. Identity struggles. Faith found, lost, and found again. Unfiltered voices from your brothers and sisters across the world.
In Egypt, a divorced woman is a tragedy. I decided to be a plot twist instead.
It wasn't logic that pulled me away. It was exhaustion. And it wasn't theology that brought me back. It was mercy.
In Syria, we fasted by choice. In Zaatari, we fast because there isn't enough food to break our fast with.
People keep asking me to choose between my culture and my faith. I refuse.
When the pandemic hit, our tiny mosque became the only institution that stayed — no questions asked.
I'm deaf. I can't hear the adhan. But I feel it — in the vibrations of the floor, in the movement of bodies turning toward Makkah.
I've answered 'do you have to pray five times?' approximately four hundred times. Here's my actual answer.
I traded a family name for a faith. Some days I mourn what I lost. Every day I’m grateful for what I found.
I grew up Catholic in a favela where God felt distant. Islam brought Him close enough to whisper to.
Fasting while working construction in Montreal tested everything I thought I knew about endurance.
I've answered 'but why can't you drink?' approximately four hundred times. Here's my actual answer.
At school I was too Muslim. At the mosque I was too Singapore. I spent years feeling like I belonged nowhere.
People keep asking me to choose between my culture and my faith. I refuse.