Eid Mubarak

I'm not sure if I have ever mentioned this before, but I was born and raised a muslim alongside my four siblings. I didn't have the easiest time with it, what with being born in London and seeing how different my family was to those of my friends. I grew up under alot of traditional rules of behaviour, a combination of cultural and religious practice. On top of it my mother was very keen to enforce a frugal way of life. So that is, as you can imagine, a hell of alot for a 14 year-old whose life existed around wanting to have friends and fit in. I never had birthday parties, never went to the cinema, never wore jeans, never went out at night. Saturdays were spent studying the Koranic scriptures, visiting random family relatives, staying at home with my siblings and reading books from the local library. I never brought friends round because at the time, the area where we were growing up, racism and zenophobia pervaded the air with nasty comments and anti-social behaviour by groups of teenagers in the area. So my parents stuck to socialising with people from within the asian community because it just felt more comfortable and welcoming, and in a way , they probably felt like it was better all round to stay on their own turf, so to speak. Obviously, I went to a school that didn't allow such selective segregation, which of course, was great, so I had friends from all sorts of backgrounds. But as soon as the school day ended, I was back into the world that my friends were not allowed to penetrate. Alot of it because of their parents conservative attitudes, but also because of my familys decision to not be more inclusive. I wasn't strong enough at the time to be truly proud of my upbringing and had no clue that perhaps my friends would have liked to have been included in this other part of my life. So, out of my own insecurities, I found myself literally leading a double life. By not merging one into the other, i thought I was avoiding potential disaster. It just seemed like the right thing to do, for my family to not know too much about who I hung out with, what I really wanted to do with my life (be an artist, travel, not have an arranged marriage) and for my friends to not know too much about how I was brought up (not wearing the traditional clothes when I was around them, not inviting them to my house etc). The day I moved out to go to university, I cooked a traditional meal, went to my tiny student hall bedroom and ate with my right hand, some rice with lentils and vegetables. I was 19 and didnt know how to use a knife and fork because every meal that I had eaten up until that day had always been with my right hand. But because I had lead this double life for so long, I just couldnt bring myself to show this.
Ten years on, I've gone back to that lonely image of myself sitting on my bed, eating alone and I think to myself now, NEVER AGAIN am I going to keep that side of me a secret. And so I didn't. I didnt have an arranged marriage, but I had a muslim wedding. I kept Antonio out of my parents life for several years. Now i make it a point to make sure they speak to each other over the phone, and let bygones be by gones. I cook traditional food alot more and share recipes with friends. And I plan on making sure that this baby has not only a loving upbringing but a colourful one too, filled with stories about his great grandmother who to this day has never taken one step outside her village in Bangladesh, about Antonios grandfather who was a professional basketball player in the mid forties, about summers spent on Portuguese beaches, and on the otherside of the world looking out at the endless paddy fields near my mothers village. I want my little man to experience two vastly different worlds, seemingly impossible to bring together, but brought together nonetheless, down to the simple act of love between two people. There will be Christmas presents shared between him and his Portuguese cousins, and the celebration of Eid with his Bengali cousins. This will be my gift to him.
It's Eid today. I'm not with my family as much as I would like to be, but I'm wishing them well as I write this. The difference between this year and last year is that for the first time, Im talking more about it with my friends, with Antonios family and to those who have made it to the end of this very long post!

On the day a baby is born, muslim parents say a special prayer, whispered into the ear of their newborn, which protects them from harm. I may not be the most religious person in the world, but I think this is such a beautiful gesture and I am very proud to have been brought up surrounded by these intricate, delicate gestures of faith.
So I wish you all a very Happy Eid, regardless of your background. I hope that you have a lovely peaceful day with your family and friends and more importantly, that you are being kind to yourself in the best way you know how. Share something about yourself that you haven't shared before. Let people get to know you better. That's the biggest lesson I am taking from today.

Here are a few photos of that muslim wedding I fought to have. Who was the person telling me not to do it? It was me. I was my own worst enemy at the time, listening to the voice that kept saying it wasn't the right thing to do because Antonio wouldn't be accepted and it would be too difficult to do such a thing. I'm glad I didn't listen because seeing my parents meet my husband for the first time, was the happiest day of my life.