For five years, I wrote as “Drima,” my online persona. I learned, I unlearned, I grew, I found my voice, and I found my self. During that time, I received words of encouragement and thanks, and words of hate and intimidation.

For five years, “Drima,” in numerous ways, was a “he,” separate from “me,” and over time, he became more outspoken and assertive. And as that happened, he gradually seeped into my offline reality, and somehow fully fused with me. He is me, and I am him.

That story of transformation is too long to convey in a mere blog post, but it will be available, along with other themes, in the book I’m almost done writing, tentatively entitled Islam: A Love Story – The Making of Digital Activist, to be published by St. Martin’s Press in 2013.

It’s been an amazing ride, and I think it’s fitting for me to write this conclusive post here from the Oslo Freedom Forum.

The fight continues, but moving forward, it will be as an author, storyteller, digital activist, and social entrepreneur. Nonetheless, I’ll always be an activist and blogger at heart. The new chapter has already begun.

With love,

Drima – Amir Ahmad Nasr

Addendum: Over the last few days, I’ve received various messages via numerous channels expressing disappointment at my decision to stop blogging here, but I should have clarified something in my post. I am not going to fully stop blogging. I’ve merely decided to bring The Sudanese Thinker to a close, and more specifically my online persona, Drima. Moving forward, I will still continue to blog, but just not here.

Instead, I’ll be blogging at my soon-to-be launched site, AmirAhmadNasr.com, which will feature all aspects of me. Not just the political activist in me, but the author in me, the amateur philosopher in me, the entrepreneur in me, the full me. Also, moving forward Sudan-related issues will be covered in a portal I have yet to launch called VoicesOfSudan.com, so yes, me ain’t going nowhere. The Sudanese Thinker has been my online home for six years, and it has served its purpose well.

Needless to say, I’ve outgrown it, and so it’s time to move on to the next phase, and that is to be self-expressed as Amir. All of me. So stay tuned, and don’t go anywhere.

Thanks for being such awesome readers all these years and months.

The journey still continues.

Read the full and excellent compilation that the folks at The Stream put together here, and check out the video of the episode below. I start talking and sharing my perspective after the 7th minute.

I’m very grateful for all the wonderful feedback I received on Twitter, and glad what I said resonated with so many Sudanese and others interested in Sudan’s history and politics.

Nonetheless, it’s definitely time for a quick update.

Firstly, check out my recent round up for Global Voices Online about the courageous Sudanese political activist, Alim Boushi. Be sure to also read my article for Al Jazeera English entitled, Reviving the ‘New Sudan’ vision. After the article went through the editing process, my favorite part got removed.

Here it is from my original version:

To put things in perspective, the number of casualties Sudan has suffered under al-Bashir is far greater than those killed by Muammar al-Ghaddafi, Bashar al-Assad, Ben Ali, Hosni Mubarak and Ali Abdullah Saleh throughout their entire rosy careers–combined.

I guess AJE needed some data. It exists. Hundreds of thousands of deaths (close to a million in total) is actually a low estimate. So even if we just take that, the fact still stands.

In the meantime, long live Tahrir and the spirit of the revolution! And down with SCAF and the unprincipled, opportunistic leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood.

Alaa Abdel Fattah, Razan Ghazzawi and Ali Abdulemam are such people, the special kind who are so principled and passionate about freedom and dignity, they’re willing to risk their well-being for what they believe.

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting them and getting to know them during the 2nd Arab Bloggers Meeting in 2009 back in Beirut. I especially remember a long heated argument I had with Razan on an issue that we, at the time, strongly disagreed about.

At first, I was annoyed by what I saw as her diatribes, but eventually, after I explored her blog and spent more time with her, I came to respect and like her for her blunt honesty and staunch stance on gender rights and free speech.

Then earlier today I came across the heart-wrenching news that she had been detained in her native Syria, where she blogged against the monstrous Assad regime openly under her real name. I really hope she’s safe.

On top of that, I also found out that Alaa’s detention under the military regime in Egypt got extended, which means he’ll very probably miss the birth of his first child. Another heart-wrenching piece of news.

Both Alaa and Razan were present at the recent 3rd Arab Bloggers Meeting held in Tunisia.

Unfortunately, our friend Ali Abdulemam, the well-known Bahraini online free speech advocate wasn’t with us. He went into hiding after the Bahraini regime unleashed a brutal crackdown on pro-democracy protesters who took to the streets earlier this year.

I don’t know where he is now, but every once in a while I think about him, and how much he must be missing his young children.

Alaa, Razan and Ali.

Tonight, they’re in my thoughts. Tonight, I go to bed with a heavy heart.

Tonight, I remind myself that their sacrifices will one day, tomorrow, next week, next year, next decade… one day, their sacrifices will bear their humble fruits.

Pessimism is a choice, and we must do our best to never succumb to it and to never remain in a defeated state.

Take 17 minutes to watch this short powerful documentary,
The “No” Choice, about Alaa and his activist family.

#FreeAlaa, #FreeRazan, and #RememberAli

When they were free: @RedRazan, @alaa and @abdulemam
in Budapest, 2008. Today they’re in jail or in hiding.

Picture courtesy of @chanadbh.

UPDATE: Good news. Both Alaa and Razan are now free.

Back then, in the words of the late Steve “Abdulfattah” Jobs, we were “the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently.”

We were crazy enough to think we could change the world. Crazy enough to think we could change things in our societies, some things, anything. But as crazy as we were, I don’t think any of us imagined in 2009 that we’d be meeting again in the capital of what then used to be one of the most Internet-restricting dictatorships on the planet.

Fast-forward nearly two years later and that’s precisely what happened. We met in Tunisia, and a lot has indeed changed. So much in fact that it took us all by surprise. And you know what? It’s one of the best damn feelings anyone can experience.

It’s one hell of a powerful validation, because we now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that our collective efforts were not in vain. The risks many Arab bloggers and digital activists have taken and in some cases paid a hefty price for were worth it. They played a critical role in mobilizing the masses and in amplifying the events with the assistance of international media, especially Al Jazeera. This is why we’re vowing to continue in whatever shape or form, big or small, direct or indirect.

Critics can say whatever they want. Yes, there are daunting challenges ahead in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya. Yes, the stories coming out of countries like Bahrain and Syria are heartbreaking. Yes, periphery Arab countries like Mauritania and Sudan haven’t even erupted adequately as they should, and yes not every single hated dictator in the region is going to fall. At least, not anytime soon.

In fact, in some countries, things might have to get “worse” before they get better. The Arab world after all is not a monolith. Anyone with half a brain and some knowledge about the region knows that different Arab countries face different complex circumstances.

Nonetheless, the regional psychological shift from victimhood and apathy to entitlement and self-empowerment is unstoppable. It has ended over 40 years of political stagnation, and it’s here to stay. Especially in the era of the digital age, more freely flowing information and a time of rapidly changing demographics and evolving belief systems. The psychological shift is only bound to grow and continue.

And the way I see it, we, optimistic netizens and digital activists have to feed it with more fuel along with education on entrepreneurship, human rights and what democracy and good governance entail. Because every optimistic, aware and self-empowered citizen is one less person suffering from victimhood/apathy syndrome, and hence an additional thorn in the side of dictatorial regimes whose survival at best relies on keeping the masses hopeless and ignorant, and at worst, massacring them with tanks and aerial bombardments. Dealing with the former is a battle we can win, but dealing with the latter is proving to be a nightmare in Syria. Still, that’s only more reason to continue and increase needed efforts, not decrease them.

Those are my feelings and the general feelings of fellow comrades, old ones as well as new ones whom I was happy to meet and become friends with in Tunisia. Friends who are diverse in terms of ideologies and political stances, but heartily united by an impassioned impulse to speak up and tell our stories freely. United by a belief in democratic values and dreams of a better Arab world. One in which citizens are free and treated with dignity and respect. (And certainly one in which Palestinians aren’t denied entry visas to Arab countries in such appalling discriminatory manners).

I could go into numerous details about some of what happened behind the scenes during the meeting in Tunisia, but I won’t, because many others have already, and because I don’t think the details are as relevant as the psychological shift. It is the underlying factor that caused these historic events, and which the 3rd Arab Bloggers Meeting will inevitably contribute to strengthening.

As for me personally and what I experienced, in short, I now feel more empowered than ever. I’ve got more clarity. I’ve got more focus. I’ve got perspective. I also realize that Sudanese netizens have a lot to catch up on and do. The good news is, it’s never too late. The great news is, there’s now finally a lot of potential and promising online activity in forums, Facebook and Twitter.

Someone just has to encourage self-organized curation of that important agitation on an open online platform created by Sudanese for Sudanese and also for the international media. Enter VoicesofSudan.com, to be launched soon before the end of 2011.

I now have the support, strategy, and network to make it happen step-by-step gradually, but surely. #AB11 gave me the missing ingredients. It has been a valuable experience, as I’m sure it has been to my fellow comrades too.

And over the next year, you’re going to witness my conscious transformation from a sociopolitical blogger into a writer, activist, and digital entrepreneur. Yup, 2012 is going to be fun.

What about you? What are you going to do?

“Think different.” (Do different).

“Here’s to the Crazy Ones!“

Peace and love,

Amir – Grateful #AB11 Participant.

When I began blogging in 2006, it was primarily and initially because of my frustration towards the Western media’s coverage of Darfur and Sudan. I wanted to do something rather than just bitch and whine.

I saw how the Egyptian and Iraqi blogospheres were influential and how they became a powerful voice for the voiceless, and I was quite jealous. Where were the Sudanese bloggers? Where was our blogosphere? It was nowhere to be found, and so I became a blogger. I blogged, I blogged and I blogged, and it was a lonely exercise.

Next, I tried to persuade online friends in Sudanese forums to join me in blogging and sharing their thoughts more publicly. I didn’t care about what they were going to say. I just wanted them to say something, anything, and it worked. By August 2007, things had changed, and there was a small but active Sudanese blogosphere speaking for itself.

My blog, which started out with around 20 hits a day, grew as well. At its peak during the Sudanese Teddy Bear Crisis, it was receiving nearly 10,000 hits a day. And the Sudanese blogosphere’s response made some difference in perceptions as indicated by the emails I received from British readers. Here’s a sample:

“Post teddy-bear fiasco, I had just decided that enough was enough and I would now have nothing but utter contempt for Islam and all Muslims. Then I read your blog—BRILLIANT. So OK, I’ll give you all another chance. I salute you—as long as there are such people as you there is hope.” – Ian, a British reader

Here’s another piece of feedback I received in response to another post:

“I really enjoy your blog.  I like the way you tell it and it’s very refreshing to hear what’s going on in Sudan, unedited and from a non-US perspective…. Thanks for your time and for your true words.” – Jennifer, an American Darfur activist

Why am I sharing and telling you all this?

I don’t tell you about it to brag. I tell you about it to show you what’s possible in hopes that it may inspire you. Yes, some weird random bunch of ranting young Sudanese bloggers can make a difference.

Unfortunately, after a while the activity and socio-political commentary in the Sudanese blogosphere died down.

BUT… something cool happened recently…

The emergence of the Sudanese Twittersphere

Sudanese tweeps, let me first say that I love you guys. You’re undoubtedly some of the most brilliant, forward-thinking open-minded Sudanese I’ve ever come across, and I’m proud to know you.

I don’t know how we emerged, but it happened and we connected together, got to know one another and as a result enriched each others’ lives 140-characters at a time. More importantly, in recent weeks we’ve managed to get our voices heard and amplified in ways that are unprecedented.

From The Stream’s Sudan episode created in response to a critical post by @his_moezness to @elzubeir’s awesome #LoveFromSudan tweeted by Nicholas Kristof and published in the NY Times, we’re becoming a small but growing force for good… which brings me to the purpose of this blog post.

Unleashing our full potential

I don’t know about you, but with the bittersweet Independence of South Sudan, something in me has forever shifted. That’s it. I’m done just being mostly a blogger. It’s time to play a more proactive and strategic role.

I think I speak for most if not virtually all Sudanese tweeps when I highlight the following points:

1. Generally speaking, western media coverage of Sudan is simplistic, biased and counter-productive. The narrative needs to change to reflect the realities.
2. Sudan’s narrative in Western and American political discourse needs to change, and we can’t merely rely on our super cool diplomats to do the job. We can and should speak up for ourselves. We can and should engage in conversation with anyone willing to listen, and such people exist. For instance, I recently connected with @sam_a_bell, the former Executive Director of Save Darfur by accident on Twitter. And now in less than two weeks, I’m scheduled to meet him in person in Washington DC over tea for a friendly chat and debate.
3. There’s so much injustice and suffering happening in Sudan that needs to be exposed and broadcasted to the world and framed with all the necessary nuances and important contextualization.
4. We’re too dispersed right now, and lack coordination, let alone achievable goals and strategies. Heck, I bet there are so many pro-democracy Sudanese out there in the world who crave the kind of intelligent, informed and useful discussions we regularly have. (Some of these people are your friends. You know them. Bug them to join Twitter! Teach them. Give them a one-on-one new media “workshop” if needed.)
5. We’re all talented and skilled unique individuals with something to contribute, so…

… @elzubeir and I recently got on Skype for a talk. It was very spontaneous. During our chat, we realized that we had overlapping plans for a project we’ve been thinking about, and which we decided to share with you so you can become a part of it. In fact, without your support, the project is not really even possible.

The Project

Imagine a hip, slick, youthful and well-designed Sudanese community portal modeled on the good aspects of Nawaat, Mideast Youth and Talk Morocco. On top of that, imagine an aggregator that curates and streams Sudanese tweets and blog posts, and even aggregates articles and content about Sudan. Imagine the impact such a project with these features can have.

For a long time, I’ve always envisioned the portal, and @elzubeir has envisioned the aggregater. What do you envision? What do you think? What do you like about the overall idea? What don’t you like? More importantly, what can you do or contribute to help turn it into a reality and something sustainable?

I know the founders of the three portals I pointed out, two of them personally, and we can learn from their experience. Elzubeir owns and runs his own damn PR company and online brand monitoring firm. A tweep like @simsimt has web development expertise. How about you? What can you bring to the table? And again, I repeat, what do you think?

Please first leave your elaborate thoughts in the comments section, and then let’s engage each other on Twitter using the hashtag #ProjectSTP, STP being an acronym for Sudanese Tweeps Potential!

Beace my beebull. One love.

- Amir

UPDATE: Thank you to everyone who commented below and to those who emailed me directly for sharing your frank thoughts about this project. After checking with a number of people, the domain name of the portal was picked. It’s going to be called www.VoicesOfSudan.com – Stay tuned for the launch!

Beace!

Here’s my main appearance posted below, and here on this page is the full episode that was broadcast.

It was a short segment so I didn’t have the time to elaborate as much as I’d have liked, and I also had to specifically focus on the media narrative. More importantly, now that I’ve watched myself, I’m afraid that in trying to be civil on TV, I might have come across as too soft on the Khartoum regime because I didn’t highlight the extent of the violent atrocities it has committed and indeed continues to commit against various marginalized groups in the country.

Luckily, I have this blog where I can elaborate as much as I’d like and state things more clearly.

The following is a list of links to resources which will give you a nuanced understanding of important background information and critical factors that affect the ongoing horrendous violence that’s unfolding.

• This is the NY Times article I referred to in my appearance, and it contains a criticism of Save Darfur and the rather unhelpful narrative it’s been pushing, along with the Enough Project. It’s an absolute must-read, and so is the Sudan-part of this Slate article.
• In April 2006, the Washington Post published an excellent article challenging numerous misconceptions that have been spread about Darfur by media outlets and pushed by the Save Darfur Coalition. The article is called 5 Truths About Darfur, and it’s a must-read.
• In 2007 I wrote a blog post that’s still relevant today called Darfur: The Reality, the Agenda & the Proposed Solution, which I’m sure many of you will find eye-opening.
• To understand the recent history of Sudan-US relations, check out Official Pariah Sudan Valuable to America’s War on Terrorism, and this article which underscores the tensions between Republicans and Democrats in pursuing a coherent and effective Sudan strategy.
• On the issue of ethnicity and religion being factors, you may want to read my article at Comment is free in The Guardian, called Ending Sudan’s Identity Crisis to get a much better sense of the complex situation.
• Finally here’s an argument for why economic sanctions on Sudan, which negatively affect us the people more than anyone else, should be lifted, and why Sudan should be removed from its now-unfair designation in the US State Department’s list of terrorism-sponsoring countries.

If you dig into just those articles above, you’ll begin to understand the danger in the confrontational approach pushed by organizations like Save Darfur and Enough Project. They might be well-meaning, but politically, their strategy has been damaging and polarizing, leaving little room for positive engagement and normalization of relations with the United States.

And if they, Nicholas Kristof and George Clooney disagree with me, then I’d be happy to engage with them in a friendly debate and discussion.

To their credit, I believe that we all share the same goal of a peaceful Sudan in which all heinous atrocities would stop, and the Khartoum government would beheld accountable for its brutal actions. However, we clearly have very different strategies we’d like to see implemented to get there.

Simply put, Sudan is a fragile country, and if the aforementioned advocates have their way, we could witness the making of another Somalia. And it won’t be pretty.

The four of us were on a panel called “Dawn of a New Arab World” which was introduced by Wael Ghonim and moderated by Philippa Thomas from BBC.

Here’s my full speech

~*~*~

Now as you can perhaps recall, I’ve been to numerous conferences throughout the past few years (yay the perks of being a blogger), some of which I’ve written about like the CSIS-organized conference that happened in Washington DC in 2007, and the transformative Second Arab Bloggers Summit that happened in Beirut in late 2009. Each was unique in its own way, and the Oslo Freedom Forum is no exception.

Amongst the speakers and attendees were former presidents, Nobel Peace Prize winners, renowned human rights and democracy activists and many inspiring personalities.

Simply put, it was quite a profound experience with a number of memorable highlights, all of which I’ll tell you about soon in a few days when I update this post… updated, erm… after a month, thanks to my unexpectedly busy schedule, which is still packed and busy. Sooo… rather than write a long post, I’m going to ask you to check out this round up of the event nicely written by Jay Nordlinger.

~*~*~

On a final note, I’d like to highlight the speech that moved nearly everyone at the Oslo Freedom Forum to tears. It’s by none other than the amazing Palestinian doctor, Izzeldin Abuelaish, and it’s called “Transcending Hate”.

Dr. Abuelaish grew up in a refugee camp in the Gaza Strip and has practiced extensively in both Israel and Gaza, including one of Israel’s main hospitals. In 2009, during Israel’s 22-day attack on Gaza, the Israeli Defense Force shelled Dr. Abuelaish’s home, taking the lives of his three daughters and niece.  Instead of letting hate overcome him, Dr. Abuelaish’s message is one of courage in the face of tragedy

Observe how he weaves his speech with phrases and sentences inspired by Koranic verses. I bow to him in respect and adoration.

My name is Ahmad. Amir Ahmad, known to you for the last five years as Drima, and I am the blogger behind The Sudanese Thinker.

Yes, that’s me in the picture below addressing the UN General Assembly back in 2006 when I was 19 on the importance of human rights and protecting freedom of conscience.

Oh yeah, for real, and then Kofi Annan thanked me afterwards.

Right.

Why I decided to reveal myself recently on Twitter and now here is something I have numerous personal reasons for and that I cannot explain adequately in a simple short blog post. Let’s just say the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions, and the changes sweeping the region now have inspired me and forced me to come to a simple conclusion.

Screw anonymity.

Initially, blogging anonymously was a convenient comfort, but eventually it became increasingly suffocating, and I decided to break free. So here I am.

And now let me get to the triple announcement.

1. Announcing My Upcoming Book

Islam: A Love Story – How Fundamentalism Stole My Mind, Broke My Heart, and Blogging Freed My Mystic Soul

About two years ago, I mentioned that I began working on a book, and many of you have been asking me about it since then. Today I’m glad to finally unveil the details. Learn more here and don’t forget to read the raw unedited prologue and tell me what you think.

2. The Future of Islam In the Age of New Media: 60 Speakers In 60 Seconds Each for a Total of 60 Insightful Minutes

As some of you know, I’m currently pursuing a Masters in philosophy along with research focused on the impact of new media on contemporary Islamic thought.

As part of that research effort, I’ve been working for the past five months on an online audio seminar which convenes 60 diverse speakers comprised of Islamic scholars, new media experts, academics, journalists and activists each giving their take on The Future of Islam In the Age of New Media.

And today it’s my pleasure to announce this online event to you. Learn more about it and sign up here.

We’ve all seen the power of digital media and how it helped in the recent uprisings that toppled the Tunisian and Egyptian dictators. And while there has been a lot of talk about that subject, there has hardly been any discussion on what I believe to be the more important topic, and that is the impact of new media on the Muslim faith.

Islam permeates all aspects of Muslim life including education and politics. Therefore, any evolution and new trends that emerge within Islam and Islamic thought, even in cyberspace, have the potential to influence important matters beyond Islam itself.

This isn’t theory. It’s factual and it’s already happening.

As Gary R. Bunt, a leading researcher and one of the event’s featured speakers rightly observes and states in his book iMuslims: Rewiring the House of Islam, “The Internet has a profound contemporary impact on how Muslims perceive Islam and how Islamic societies and networks are evolving and shifting in the twenty-first century.”

How and in what ways this is happening is precisely what will be explored and discussed by the event’s 60 speakers.

Having personally undergone a profound transformation in my own religious beliefs and identity–going from fundamentalism through heartbreak and disillusionment, then two years of near atheism, and finally finding peace in Sufism–I know from firsthand experience the impact the Internet can and indeed does have on the faithful.

However, that specific transformation is only one person’s journey, and therefore cannot be decidedly pointed out as representative of the larger emerging trends.

So what are those larger emerging trends then?

Stay tuned for the online audio seminar and hear all 60 perspectives.

3. I’m Speaking at the Oslo Freedom Forum

Oh yeah, true story.

I’ll be speaking on a panel called “Dawn of a New Arab World” along with Libyan blogger, Ghazi Gheblawi, Tunisian digital activist, Lina Ben Mhenni and the courageous Bahraini human rights activist, Maryam al-Khawaja.

The panel will be moderated by Philippa Thomas from BBC, and will be streamed live right here.

Stay tuned for that as well.

More soon.

Peace.

He smacked her across the face—a violent thundering slap. The television seemed to reverberate with the impact. It was the climax of the show, and I had just entered the living room uninvited.

“Why did he hit her?” I asked my mom. “Shush, not now,” she replied, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

I hated being ignored. “What happened? What did she do?” I continued, insisting that I get an answer. “I said, not now,” replied mama, now obviously annoyed.

The woman collapsed on the floor and broke down in tears. The man who had hit her, clearly still enraged, stood tall above her, and then shouted in her face, “You’re divorced. Divorced. Divorced!”

The words marched out of his mouth, decisively and with absolute vengeance. I didn’t want to risk getting a similar response from my mom, but I couldn’t resist. “Why did he say that three times? What happened, mama?” “How many times do I have to tell you, not now,” mama shot back, still not fully acknowledging my presence. “Will you tell me later then?” I asked, desperate to know if I would ever get to find out what the mystery was all about. “Khalas, fine, yes,” she assured me.

My mom was busy watching an Egyptian series, and I was bored out of my six year old mind. I did my best to amuse myself, but neither my brother’s Michael Jackson tape, or my Ninja Turtle action figures, or my well-worn superhero fantasies did the trick. After what seemed like forever, I sensed movement outside my room. My mom was done with her TV show, so I rushed out to demand my answer. “Will you tell me what happened now, mama? Why did he hit her? And what was that thing he said three times?” “He got angry at his wife and divorced her,”, she responded at last.

Still, I wasn’t satisfied. “Why did he get angry? What did she do,” I continued. “Later, Amir, later,” mama replied.

Later—years later—I’d finally come to better understand part of what happened in that memorable scene.

In Islam, a man can divorce his wife up to three times, after which it becomes extremely difficult—even virtually impossible—to remarry her. If a marriage is in trouble, but there is a chance of reconciliation, a husband will make the divorce proclamation, “you’re divorced,” just once to his wife. This leaves the door open for a change of heart. Even if, enraged or disillusioned, he makes the proclamation twice, hope is not lost. 

Only deeply troubled, irreconcilable marriages end in a “three proclamations divorce” and a mushroom cloud of heartbreak and anger.

That’s exactly what happened in the Egyptian TV series.

Over the years, I often found myself recalling that scene, and wondering about the remaining questions. What did the wife ever do to deserve getting divorced with three fierce proclamations? Did her husband love her, and if he did, what changed? And why the hell did he have to hit her violently?

One day, however, I understood. I experienced that kind of rage, the agonizing pain of feeling betrayed by one that I had loved unconditionally. I too, longed to end it with that fierce finality. But my love was not a woman. It was my faith.

Growing up, I loved my cartoons. I loved my toys. I loved my LEGO. I loved what I loved especially when it lit up my creative imagination freely and in all its magical glory. But above all, I loved Islam.

Therein lay all the heartbreak.

For while there was a beautiful, spiritually liberating, mystical Islam that I loved as a child, later, entwined with it, came another Islam, that dictated that I should hold on to certain beliefs or risk burning in hell for all eternity. It erected tall suffocating barriers between me and the magical curiosity and imaginative free thought I loved as a child.

I didn’t like that Islam. It was mean. It made me uneasy, but it was so thoroughly fused to the other one I revered and loved that I could no longer tell the difference.

And so I believed without questioning. Like a young man wedded to a stranger in an arranged marriage that he accepted for fear of betraying his family, I devoted myself to my faith. I practiced, worshiped, and swept doubt under the rug whenever it surfaced.

I memorized long passages of the Quran, joined national recitation competitions, won, and got featured in the newspaper.

I listened to my bearded teachers, trusted them, and followed their instructions. I became wary of non-Muslims. I hated Jews, hated secularism, and doubted democracy.

I had a love-hate relationship towards the West and its leader, the Big Satan, the United States of America.

Finally, at the height of my deeply held jihadist euphoria, I wished I could die and martyr myself for Islam and occupied Palestine.

I was eleven years old.

What followed will not only surprise you, but it is my hope that it will inspire you to see religion in a fresh and more nuanced light. It may even make you break out in laughter.

It includes tales about haunting melodic echoing calls to prayer, a French girl named Doubt, five pillars and a teddy bear, a soulful beauty called Trinity, American bombs raining on a pharmaceuticals factory, and an accidental blog that turned my life upside down.

This book is my story. It’s a story about my relationship with Islam and its guardians. It’s about my journey from arranged marriage to infidelity to the brink of irreconcilability… and back.

It’s about blogging and the internet, and how they’ve forever altered yesterday’s dictatorial politics of ignorance and ushered in a new politics of knowledge. It’s about the search for identity, meaning, and ultimately, Truth.

If you’re someone who’s had a difficult relationship with religion, or you have a deep interest in it, what I write is for you.

If having your beliefs challenged boils your blood, this book is probably not for you.

Lastly, if you passionately believe that God shouldn’t be merely reduced to ink on paper, but should instead be mainly experienced, then this book is certainly for you, and it begins with a quote from a wise Sufi mystic you may have heard of before.

Leave your thoughts in the comments section below
and let me know what you think of the prologue.