finding
my way through university
by
Marwah Al-Azhary
I always knew that I wanted to be a writer. It's strange, but I accidentally discovered this.
I was around eight years old, and the class was interrupted by older students, making a survey about what younger students would like to be in
the future. They started listing professions such as "Doctor", "Nurse"; everyone raised their hands for that; some raised their hands up for
"Teacher". And there I was, just not feeling any connection to the list they were giving out. I was scared, because everyone knew what they
wanted to be, and I didn't have any clue what it was I wanted to be. So way at the end, the older students asked the people who hadn't raised
their hands what they'd like to be. When they came to me, out of nowhere, without thinking, I said "A writer".
And that's why I was standing in front of my new university, ready to start my English literature degree.
I was nervous starting high school all those years ago, and I was nervous starting university as well. Changes always seem to make me
nervous; especially since I was a young Muslim girl living in the United Kingdom, and I wasn't yet sure of my identity and where I could fit in,
and more importantly, who I could fit in with.
So there I was; I had made it to university, where I was determined to achieve my dream to become a writer, all the way.
I've actually left out an important detail, a detail that has helped me become who I am today. I wasn't veiled. I was a ‘normal’, respectable
teenage girl who wanted to appear as a beauty icon in society. I only realize now that I was just conforming to society's manipulation to get
women to sell their souls to fashion and beauty products.
I have to admit: University is where I discovered my identity; my soul. Before that, I was drifting into the woods, admiring the tempting
flowers that steer us all from the straight and unwinding path. But this self-discovery did not happen until a few months into
my first university year. Until that happened, I was just a worldly girl, determined to ace my essays so that I could be one step closer to my
dream.
And that's when it happened. By chance I had found the Islamic prayer room, which was carefully tucked away from the campus. I was
actually surprised I had finally found it. That's where things started to change for me. That's when I was one step closer to
discovering my identity.
You see, when I was in university, I could not really pinpoint where I belonged. It was clear I didn't belong with the English, blonde and blue
eyed white girls in my course, because they just saw me as a non-white individual. It was clear I wasn't with the non-Muslim Asian girls either,
because they just looked at me as a Muslim, and back then September the 11th had just happened; so I wasn't exactly welcomed when they
discovered that I shared the same religion as Osama Bin Laden. And the Muslim girls that wore the veil didn't recognise me as a Muslim since I
wasn't veiled. So clearly, I was confused.
This was the beginning of my path to self-discovery. I looked deep into my soul and asked myself where I wanted to belong, and I found the
answer staring right back at me; I wanted to be with the Muslims. Not just because they were my own people, but because they symbolized a
beautiful religion; no matter what the media was saying.
A few months down the line, my old friends from high school didn't really recognise me. I still hadn't veiled, but it was evident from the
conversations we had that I was closer to my religion.
And then it finally happened. It's really bizarre and till this day I still can't get my head around it, but I was sitting on the train on my way
home from university, and I was looking at the sky, something I had been doing a lot back then; contemplating on the miracles of God.
That's when I started thinking about my dream of becoming a writer. Why did I want to become a writer? For fame? For the money? Just for
worldly desires? Wasn't I looking for something more rewarding than that? Don't get me wrong, it is rewarding to have your work
recognised and appreciated, but didn't I want to write for the sake of God and His beautiful religion? Didn't I want to use my gift for the sake of
God, in helping others, in serving Islam? After all, God did bless me with this gift. Why would I be selfish enough to use it only for worldly aims?
While my thoughts were running out in front of me, like precious droplets forming an ocean of contemplative thoughts, I looked at the window
and saw my reflection. Now, I was a proud Muslim, but I saw a young girl with no veil and with no form of identity to show that she was a proud
Muslim.
As thetrain sped on by, I felt such a strong presence…God's presence…I was overwhelmed, tears already forming, adding new droplets to that
ocean of thoughts.
I stared at my reflection…then I heard something say to me: “This will be the last day you will show your hair in public…the next time you go
out, you will be wearing the veil.”
And it's quite true, because I arrived home and found my mother with a gift in her hand; a veil, on today, of all days! It's as though God had
given me this gift of beautiful purples and blues, eagerly waiting to be assigned to my head; an approved signature from God that yes, I had
discovered my identity. The tempting flowers would just have to sadly watch me on my way to the straight, warm, paradisical path called
home.
And next year, I was, standing in front of my university again, ready to face another academic semester; but this time, I was standing as a
proud Muslim with my veil. I've never achieved so many ‘A’ grades in my life as I did in that semester, and I've never made so many friends as I
did then; like God was helping me work hard to achieve the best grades and meet the best Muslims, because I had finally recognised that I
should be serving my dream for Islam and the Muslims.
Yes, my veil completes my identity, university helped me get here, and my dream of writing continues.•
I always knew that I wanted to be a writer. It's strange, but I accidentally discovered this.
I was around eight years old, and the class was interrupted by older students, making a survey about what younger students would like to be in
the future. They started listing professions such as "Doctor", "Nurse"; everyone raised their hands for that; some raised their hands up for
"Teacher". And there I was, just not feeling any connection to the list they were giving out. I was scared, because everyone knew what they
wanted to be, and I didn't have any clue what it was I wanted to be. So way at the end, the older students asked the people who hadn't raised
their hands what they'd like to be. When they came to me, out of nowhere, without thinking, I said "A writer".
And that's why I was standing in front of my new university, ready to start my English literature degree.
I was nervous starting high school all those years ago, and I was nervous starting university as well. Changes always seem to make me
nervous; especially since I was a young Muslim girl living in the United Kingdom, and I wasn't yet sure of my identity and where I could fit in,
and more importantly, who I could fit in with.
So there I was; I had made it to university, where I was determined to achieve my dream to become a writer, all the way.
I've actually left out an important detail, a detail that has helped me become who I am today. I wasn't veiled. I was a ‘normal’, respectable
teenage girl who wanted to appear as a beauty icon in society. I only realize now that I was just conforming to society's manipulation to get
women to sell their souls to fashion and beauty products.
I have to admit: University is where I discovered my identity; my soul. Before that, I was drifting into the woods, admiring the tempting
flowers that steer us all from the straight and unwinding path. But this self-discovery did not happen until a few months into
my first university year. Until that happened, I was just a worldly girl, determined to ace my essays so that I could be one step closer to my
dream.
And that's when it happened. By chance I had found the Islamic prayer room, which was carefully tucked away from the campus. I was
actually surprised I had finally found it. That's where things started to change for me. That's when I was one step closer to
discovering my identity.
You see, when I was in university, I could not really pinpoint where I belonged. It was clear I didn't belong with the English, blonde and blue
eyed white girls in my course, because they just saw me as a non-white individual. It was clear I wasn't with the non-Muslim Asian girls either,
because they just looked at me as a Muslim, and back then September the 11th had just happened; so I wasn't exactly welcomed when they
discovered that I shared the same religion as Osama Bin Laden. And the Muslim girls that wore the veil didn't recognise me as a Muslim since I
wasn't veiled. So clearly, I was confused.
This was the beginning of my path to self-discovery. I looked deep into my soul and asked myself where I wanted to belong, and I found the
answer staring right back at me; I wanted to be with the Muslims. Not just because they were my own people, but because they symbolized a
beautiful religion; no matter what the media was saying.
A few months down the line, my old friends from high school didn't really recognise me. I still hadn't veiled, but it was evident from the
conversations we had that I was closer to my religion.
And then it finally happened. It's really bizarre and till this day I still can't get my head around it, but I was sitting on the train on my way
home from university, and I was looking at the sky, something I had been doing a lot back then; contemplating on the miracles of God.
That's when I started thinking about my dream of becoming a writer. Why did I want to become a writer? For fame? For the money? Just for
worldly desires? Wasn't I looking for something more rewarding than that? Don't get me wrong, it is rewarding to have your work
recognised and appreciated, but didn't I want to write for the sake of God and His beautiful religion? Didn't I want to use my gift for the sake of
God, in helping others, in serving Islam? After all, God did bless me with this gift. Why would I be selfish enough to use it only for worldly aims?
While my thoughts were running out in front of me, like precious droplets forming an ocean of contemplative thoughts, I looked at the window
and saw my reflection. Now, I was a proud Muslim, but I saw a young girl with no veil and with no form of identity to show that she was a proud
Muslim.
As thetrain sped on by, I felt such a strong presence…God's presence…I was overwhelmed, tears already forming, adding new droplets to that
ocean of thoughts.
I stared at my reflection…then I heard something say to me: “This will be the last day you will show your hair in public…the next time you go
out, you will be wearing the veil.”
And it's quite true, because I arrived home and found my mother with a gift in her hand; a veil, on today, of all days! It's as though God had
given me this gift of beautiful purples and blues, eagerly waiting to be assigned to my head; an approved signature from God that yes, I had
discovered my identity. The tempting flowers would just have to sadly watch me on my way to the straight, warm, paradisical path called
home.
And next year, I was, standing in front of my university again, ready to face another academic semester; but this time, I was standing as a
proud Muslim with my veil. I've never achieved so many ‘A’ grades in my life as I did in that semester, and I've never made so many friends as I
did then; like God was helping me work hard to achieve the best grades and meet the best Muslims, because I had finally recognised that I
should be serving my dream for Islam and the Muslims.
Yes, my veil completes my identity, university helped me get here, and my dream of writing continues.•
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