Family

Previously I said that I hate my [extended] family sometimes. It's not their personalities that are annoying, not in the least. In fact, I love them. My cousins are all wacky and cool, and the various aunts, uncles, and cousins of my parents are so kind and loving. The only problem is that these people are extremely conservative Muslims.

I can't blame them. Almost all of them grew up in Pakistan, and most went to school there. Surrounded constantly by the older generation of devout Muslims, they didn't really have much room for freeing their thoughts. Almost everyone prays five times a day. Old traditions die hard. To this day, some of our generation are expected to marry cousins.

None of this is too terrible. They generally keep to themselves, and won't force anyone to intermarry. On the one Friday we were in Canada, I was the only male who didn't go to the big group prayer. Clearly the others noticed, but thankfully they didn't say anything. It doesn't even bother me that the parents try to force religion on their kids. I have a feeling that one of my second cousins also is not very religious, because once she refused when her mother told her it was time to start a-prayin'. So some of the younger folks are resisting in small ways--also good.

But I was livid when the males were forced from the room because some lady had to dance without her head covering. I felt stifled, like ignorance was being pushed down my throat. It was here that I really bonded with my dad's cousin Aamir. We had a nice chat about religious fanatics and assimilation. It was refreshing to find someone in the family other than my parents who isn't a blind follower.

I attribute this skeptical view on Islam, and religion in general, to the fact that both my parents left Pakistan for their educations: My dad to MIT, my mom to Tulane. This opened their minds in ways that a Pakistani university could never do. True, my dad had a religious phase when I was about 10 that lasted about a year. He made me go to mosque every Friday, but that quickly let up. Despite my involvement with the Boy Scouts, I realized that I did not believe in a higher power. I harbored this inside for about two years before telling my parents. I think it was a relief for both me and them, because they were suspecting something was the matter for a while. They took it well, my mom even saying she'd rather me be an atheist than a preacher.

But no one else knows.