Salon excerpted one of the most controversial stories from Salaam, Love: American Muslim Men on Love, Sex & Intimacy. What do you think of the issues writer Maher Reham raises? You can also read Maher’s contributor spotlight on our website, here.
Curious to read more stories from Salaam, Love? Order the book today!
Tune into Salaam, Love contributor Haroon Moghul’s great interview with NPR Weekend Edition today. You can also read his story Prom, InshAllah online at the link!
“I think for a lot of American Muslims, especially those of us who are in some kind of community role, we’re forced to become, for lack of a better term, professional Muslims. A lot of the things that I wanted to do with my life, I was unable to do, because I realized that as an American, and as a Muslim, I had an obligation to become part of a conversation that we as a country needed. And I don’t regret that, and I think it was something that is the right thing to do. But unfortunately, I think in the process, we were forced to deny a lot of parts of ourselves.”
Video credit and gratitude to Women of Spirit & Faith, Peabody Award-winning filmmaker Alison Fast and documentary filmmaker Chandler Griffin!
I haven’t written much about the transition of my son J to our new life and existence after Joan’s death. He lost his mother when he was 12; it is something that will shape him for the rest of his life. He stood by her, holding her hand as she gulped her last breaths, he wept inconsolably as she faded and grew cold. I wonder what the impact of that will be as he grows into manhood. It will have an impact; there is a huge crater in his life.
My first action after the funeral and all the emotions that came immediately afterwards was to do……nothing. I decided to change nothing. It was dislocating enough to come home to a home devoid of the person you love deeply, without also uprooting the rest of our lives.
Eds. Note: This beautiful piece is being posted in honor of the author’s grandmother’s first death anniversary. Ending the year with a moving reminder of the only thing that lasts, the bridge between life & death: love.
On Friday, I buried Muneer Unisa Begum, a woman who has lived with me my entire life.
Her capacity for love was like her appetite: large and generous.
Born in Hyderabad Deccan, India on April 8, 1925, she moved to Karachi, Pakistan during partition and then joined her two eldest sons in Amreeka in the late ‘70’s, where she rocked bell bottoms, South Asian bling, and a strange, enduring love for Tom Jones, The Doobie Brothers and Sabri Brothers’ Qawwalis.
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