As Ramadan comes to an end, a reflection on what it means to be a Black American Muslim

• Share on Facebook
• Share on Twitter
• Share via Email
• Copy Link

  Link Copied

Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.

Ramadan is the holiest month for Muslims—it is the ninth month on the Islamic calendar and a part of the five pillars or obligatory acts that all abled Muslims are to observe. The month is broken down into thirds, with the first 10 days representing seeking mercy (Rahmah), the next 10 reflections of forgiveness (Maghfirah) and the last 10 safety from hell (Nijat). approaching the end of Ramadan is always bittersweet, and while it is a taxing month, spiritually, physically and emotionally, it has deeply affected me as a Black American Muslim. 

For 30 days, the month takes me on a very umbilical journey with my spirituality and how I engage with it and God, but not for the reasons that are often touted in the mainstream idea of this religious practice. My lineage is deeply rooted in this faith and, as a Black American, dates back to the 1500s when the first Black Muslims stepped foot in North America. The concept of Islam in America began with Black people and somehow got lost in a present-day white adjacency and assimilation that doesn’t reflect the practice that was passed down from previous generations of my family. No, it’s not “our Christmas” or anything else some people want others to believe so they can understand it better and make it digestible. 

Also Read:
Double minority: ‘Dear Culture’ podcast explores the Black American Muslim experience

When Ramadan approaches, I begin to reflect on the teachings of my intersections of identity and the history of what it means to be Black, “American” and Muslim. My father was the first person to teach me that during the trans-Atlantic slave trade, Muslims would continue to partake in Ramadan to keep their culture but also as a form of open defiance. Fasting was rooted deeply in resistance and liberation during a time when every scrap of food or drink was also essential for survival. But, it was also a way they formed community by offering their non-Muslim counterparts what they called “saraka” or what we call “sadaqa” (charity) in the form of rice cakes. In addition, when they were first to write Bible verses, they’d transcribe verses of the Quran instead.

I think of that type of foresight to challenge everything you’re being forced to assimilate into, just to keep a morsel of yourself. And that’s what Ramadan means to me when I approach the month. How do I continue to seek God-consciousness without compromising myself and who I am at my core? Yes, it is definitely a difficult month because outside of abstaining from food, drink and the desires of the world, it requires being ever-present in other areas of life with the least bit of energy but the biggest form of intention. How I speak, how I behave and how I maneuver are always put to the test this month to build a better character for me throughout the rest of the year.

During the ’50s, my grandfather, Yahya, and grandmother, Sakina, had to go to court to fight to keep their names. They were considered “Negroes,” so they were supposed to have Negro names. Their fight and resistance have allowed me to dive deeper into this month by truly tapping into my faith and why Allah chose me to have it. So, as the month makes its exit, I reflect on my ancestors who had no choice but to stand up for who they were and what they proclaimed they believed by doing the things that probably weren’t very comfortable but required action.

Also Read:
For Muslims with eating disorders, Ramadan can pose dilemmas

I have learned that with everything we do in Islam, saying that I am a “Muslim” is a verb and requires doing. Ramadan is the act of succumbing to my personal desires to build a better connection to God and harness a better me through finding ways to give charity and build community. But it has also kept me closer to my ancestors in a way that’s so spiritual and special that I look forward to it because of them.

Imani Bashir is a Black-American Muslim journalist whose work has centered identity, culture and lifestyle. She has been featured in the New York Times, Travel & Leisure, Glamour Magazine, and many others. Her purpose is to be an ambassador for empowering marginalized people and offering storytelling that shifts culture and provokes pertinent conversations.

TheGrio is FREE on your TV via Apple TV, Amazon Fire, Roku, and Android TV. Please download theGrio mobile apps today!