(Originally written: 2/25/07)

Let’s be blunt: I want stuff to happen, and I’ll generally do my darndest to make it happen—as long as the means are morally permissible, of course. Three examples will suffice.

First, as an undergrad at the Univ. of Mississippi, I was the resident notorious gay leftist, and I made it my business to make sure my perspective was heard. Whether it was the war in Iraq, women’s rights, or GLBT issues, I had something very brash and controversial to say. Moreover, I spend years trying to persuade other GLBT students, who were much less out and political than myself, to be more open and defiant of the status quo. I promoted my ideas through opinion columns and letters to the editor, activism, and through my conversations (i.e., arguments) with other GLBT students there. Although there were a minority who were sympathetic and/or supportive, I never managed to really spur people to real, defiant action.

Another example: I want a guy, a life partner, someone with whom I’ll share my life, my home, and maybe even 2.6 kids and a dog. And I want him now! LOL. Seriously, I really have no desire to date one guy after another, spending weeks or months in uncertainty as we continually decide whether to pursue the relationship further, only to break up and repeat the process, over and over, until I finally find him. That’s right, I don’t want to go through all the mess of serial dating that is so common within our society, I don’t want to "live life a bit," and I don’t want to "sow my wild oats." I just want to find the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with (insha’Allah) and start building our life together.

Finally, being a recent convert to Islam, I am naturally excited about the faith, and I want to spread it to others, as well as do what I can to help those who may have strayed from their faith or are struggling with it. In particular, I sometimes run across GLBT born Muslims who fit this description because of a perceived conflict between Islam and their sexuality, and I want nothing more than for them to resolve this conflict so that they can be happily gay and happily Muslim. Furthermore, due to my own American, non-Muslim background, I feel like I have much to contribute to the GLBT Muslim movement because I’m coming from a place in life where I don’t feel compelled to keep silent and conform in order to maintain peace and order; far be it from me to sow fitna, but I’m not afraid to rock the boat when it needs rocking.

I have spent most of my life excessively confident in my own ability to make things happen. Although I believed in God, I still relied on myself to get the job done, in the end. Connected to this was my belief that, in order to define my efforts as "successful," I also had to see my desired ends come to pass right then and there. Naturally, this led to much frustration and wasted time and energy on my own part:

• When I continually failed to convince my fellow GLBT students to engage in some substantial show of activism, like a rally or protest, I just got more and more frustrated—with them for not seeing the light and with myself for not being more effective.


• In my desire to find my true love, I have expended way too many resources already trying to make it happen—whether it means spending too much time in chat rooms hoping that a guy I might like will message me, or worrying too much about what impression I give off. Sometimes, this has even resulted in me "settling-for" guys to whom I wasn’t attracted or didn’t click with, just so that I could have someone. I’ve always been told that the best way to find someone is to stop looking, but convincing myself to do so has always been the hard part.


• When I meet a GLBT Muslim who is weak in his/her faith, or has left the faith, my most desired goal is to change this and bring this person to a point where s/he is excited about Islam like never before. The problem here is that I feel obligated to accomplish that immediately and entirely by my own efforts—as if I’m a failure unless I convince this person to reaffirm his/her commitment to Islam by the time the conversation is over. (Like, this one time, I was on my way to meet a young Pakistani man who had ceased to believe in Islam, and I was worrying about whether, within the space of this one conversation, I’d be able to help him reconcile his sexuality and Islam so that he could resume practicing.)

This is so reflective of a classic individualistic and secular American mindset: the enshrinement of the autonomous self. Our personal center in life is often nothing more than ourselves. We act in order to please ourselves and imagine that we are somehow independent of our creator, Allah (swt). Little do we know that the end results of our actions, whether we succeed or fail, is by His leave and His alone. Little do we know how dependent we are upon His will to see our ends come to fruition, if they are to do so at all. The Holy Qur’an says: And do not say of anything: "I will do that tomorrow," unless you add: "If Allah wills." Remember your Lord, if you forget, and say: "Perhaps, my Lord will guide me to something closer to this in rectitude?" As a Muslim, I consistently remind myself that, whatever I intend to do, the same caveat always applies: If Allah (swt) wills.

To forget this basic fact is not in our best interests. Not only is it unadvisable to forget Allah’s (swt) presence, even momentarily, but it also sets us up for major disappointments, sometimes. If we imagine that we are autonomous and capable, independent of Allah (swt), then we are likely to envision goals that are beyond our true abilities; then, when those lofty imaginings do not come true, we experience frustration and pain. Allah (swt) knows I did! All these things I wanted, both for myself and for others, would frustrate me to no end when they did not come to be. Why won’t these people realize the need for activism? Why can’t I just find a guy already?!?!

For the longest time, this was my orientation towards life. I want what I want, and I’m going to make it happen. And, much of the time, all I found was frustration. Recently, though, something happened that helped give me a new perspective on life: My meeting with the young Pakistani man really helped change my orientation.

As I said, on my way to meet him, I was concerned with whether I would have the ability to bring him back to Islam. I scribbled down a few references on a piece of paper, packed my Qur’an, and headed to the coffee shop to meet him. When I got there and we sat down, he didn’t appear eager to rediscover Islam at first, nor did he become so during the conversation. What I ended up doing was just chatting with him about the story of Lut (used frequently to argue that homosexuality and Islam are incompatible), the Al-Fatiha Foundation, progressive Islam, Irshad Manji, and school in general. I didn’t behave arrogantly or act like I knew for sure what the truth was. I just told him how I felt and what I believed, and listened politely and non-judgmentally as he shared his perspective with me.

When we’d finished talking, something amazing happened. Even though he was still estranged from Islam at the end of our conversation, I asked him if he’d like to come to the bookstore with me so I could show him some books that express views similar to mine…and he accepted! We walked over, and I showed him books by such authors as Reza Aslan, Asra Nomani, and Omid Safi. He was clearly interested in this material and asked me to send him a list of these authors and their texts—which I later did, of course.

Now, I cannot read minds, so I cannot tell you for sure what this young man’s motivation was for wanting these references. Still, part of me just has to believe that this was an indication that he wanted to find a way back to Islam…and that I, somehow, was able to help. It could be that our conversation inspired an interest in giving the faith another chance, or perhaps he was already interested, and I simply gave him hope that it would be possible. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what Allah (swt) chooses to do with the results. I haven’t spoken to the young man since then, but I would like to think that he has been checking out the references I gave him, learning to see Islam in a new light, and inching towards embracing the faith anew. The interest he displayed at the bookstore gives me hope that he is.

As I was heading back home after that, I was feeling peaceful because I realized that, while so many things are beyond my own power, that is okay. If I can only accomplish small things, that is fine. Whatever little bit of good I can originate, Allah (swt) can multiply it many times over. If I cannot inspire someone to embrace Islam, maybe I can open their mind and heart to it just a little bit, and Allah (swt) will lead them the rest of the way. Even though I failed to create a mass movement during college, perhaps some person or people who heard me talking or read one of my columns, but didn’t buy it back then, will someday remember what I said and see it in a new light. I have yet to find the love of my life, but perhaps whatever it is I’m doing at this moment is leading me right to him, only without my knowledge of what’s going on. I need only attend to the little stuff because I can trust that Allah (swt) is taking care of that which is beyond my ability.

Now, instead of wondering how I can make what I want happen, I seek to find out what Allah (swt) wants and what He wants me to do in order to make it happen. It does not mean that I take a passive role in life, now; far from it—I try to be as proactive as possible. The difference is that I now know (a) that I need His help in order to make things happen and (b) that I need never despair of His compassion and mercy.

I am but one human being—limited and fallible. But Allah (swt) is omnipotent and perfect. I can do only so much, but He can do anything. I am the creation, He is my Creator. I worship Him and none other. La hawla wa la quwatta illa billah. And why should it be otherwise? Can the creation ever measure up to its creator? I think not. In this life, I have only to do my absolute best, in good faith, and trust that Allah (swt) is taking care of the big stuff. I hand every bit of it over to Him.

Al-hamdulillah!