I’m not guaranteed Ramadan next year – with Islamophobia increasing, I’m not even guaranteed tomorrow.
By Hafsa Quraishi
TW//Violence and murder.
Yesterday, I arrived at my local mosque while 'intermission' was going on, during which prayer is paused to give people a break between the long, nightly supplication.
It’s the final ten days of Ramadan, a time when attendance at mosques are especially high because of the holiness encompassing these last few days.
Though it was late in the evening, the mosque was boisterous with activity – kids were running around, yelling and chasing each other; a group of women were seated in a circle, likely discussing community events and the older teens were playing basketball in the court my brother lovingly built with money he fundraised. Fairy lights ran around the perimeter of the building twinkling blues and greens. It was quite a sight to see.
Yet, all I could think of was how these children and adults that surrounded me might not be here the following night.
I spent the last few weeks fasting, praying and trying to be my best self. I had a number of goals I wanted to accomplish this year – attend the nightly prayer, taraweeh, every night, read the entire Qur’an and be kinder to others. My human nature kept me from meeting most of these goals, and while that frustrated me, I kept reminding myself that I can always try to accomplish them next year – but the reality is, I’m not guaranteed Ramadan next year – with Islamophobia increasing, I’m not even guaranteed tomorrow.