I am a married Muslim man in Australia, blessed with six wonderful children. Together with my wife, who wears the burka and home births our children, we embrace a lifestyle rooted in our faith. My wife is one of the strongest women I know; her commitment to our family and beliefs inspires me daily. Both of us were born into families that didn’t practice Islam deeply. Our parents were influenced by materialism, but at the age of 19, we embarked on our journey to embrace our faith together.
My past was marked by the typical struggles of youth—drinking, smoking, and the nightlife scene. My wife’s journey was different; she focused on her career and social interactions. As we grew in our faith, we made the conscious decision to adopt Islamic dress, which came with its own set of challenges. While my wife made a significant personal decision to wear the veil, I also embraced my own Islamic garb, distinguishing myself as a proud Muslim man.
Walking through public spaces with my veiled wife often draws attention. We’ve encountered both admiration and hostility, with verbal assaults occasionally thrown our way. It’s a harsh reality that can shake one’s confidence, especially when you feel that your partner’s strength highlights your own vulnerabilities. Yet, I remind myself that our attire is not just fabric; it’s a symbol of our commitment to our faith and each other.
Living in Brisbane has not been without its difficulties. While the pandemic has led to a decrease in Islamophobic attacks, my family and I have still had to navigate a world that can be unwelcoming. Early on in my journey, I learned that the police might not always be a source of support for Muslims. A negative encounter with a local officer taught me that I couldn’t rely on them to protect my family, which is a sobering realization for any parent.
As a father, my primary goal is to protect my children from the challenges we face. I find myself constantly vigilant when we’re out, ensuring that they are shielded from racism and abuse. Unfortunately, they’ve witnessed me defend myself in public settings, which no child should have to see. I want them to know that our faith is about love, respect, and community, not fear.
Despite these challenges, I am proud of my accomplishments. I hold a Doctorate in Law and have a strong desire to represent Muslims in the legal field. Yet, systemic barriers make this difficult. There’s an unspoken expectation to conform to Western norms in attire and behavior, which can feel exclusionary. I yearn to challenge these narratives, but the journey is fraught with obstacles.
Community support is vital, but navigating the landscape of Australian Muslim society can be complex. There are sincere scholars and leaders, yet the presence of hypocrisy and judgment can be disheartening. I’ve encountered individuals who use their positions for personal gain rather than uplifting others. This reality can erode trust within the community.
Racism, too, exists within our ranks. As a dark-skinned Muslim, I’ve felt the sting of discrimination from some who are lighter-skinned. Islam teaches equality, yet the societal norms and biases often contradict this principle. The journey for equality within the Muslim community and broader society is ongoing and requires introspection and change.
Despite these struggles, I remain hopeful. I have businesses that allow me to earn a halal income, navigating the complexities of financial systems that often feel exclusionary. I strive to teach my children the importance of resilience, integrity, and faith.
As we continue to walk this path, I recognize that tests are a part of life. Family can be a source of both strength and challenge. I’ve learned that maintaining ties can be difficult, yet essential for our growth.
Ultimately, my identity as a dark-skinned Muslim man in Australia shapes my experiences. I don’t fully belong here, nor do I feel entirely at home in Muslim-majority countries. I find myself as a stranger, looking forward to a world beyond this one, where peace and unity prevail.
I dream of a future where my family can thrive, free from prejudice and discrimination. Perhaps one day, I will acquire a piece of land away from the noise, where we can build a home and a mosque—a sanctuary for my family to flourish. In the meantime, I hold onto my faith and the hope that change is possible, both within myself and the society I navigate every day.
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