Experiences

Because Allah knows best

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This morning, I woke up an underachiever.
Who still has not accomplished much of anything worth discussing or which might give me a sense of completeness.

This morning, I woke up worthless. I am a useless bit of space not contributing to anything, or adding any sort of value to the lives of those around me, or even to my own life.

This morning, feeling like shit, I walked to work wiping tears, and catching my breath and repeating over and over and over ‘Allah knows best.’

And this morning, I thought about how I every day fight to live my life doing good, and being good, and respecting the rules, and living with a clean heart, and I do it out of nothing more than a love for Allah. And when I fail, it is because I am short on strength, not because He is ever short on Love and Guidance.

And this morning, I woke up confused by those who have not lived well, and yet, they have been graced with the one thing — the only thing — I wish to have.
Because Allah knows best.

And this morning, I woke up thinking about that one time my religious cousin told me that women who do not have children? Something changes in the composition of their brain. That they are not ‘normal.’
Because Allah knows best.

And this morning, I woke up thinking about the biological imperative that so many men callously wave around because they have been taught supremacy: That they are naturally built to be attracted to young women.
Because Allah knows best.

And this morning, I woke up thinking about the fact that I have loved wrong but at the right time, and loved right but at the wrong time.
Because Allah knows best.

And this morning, I woke up thinking about all of the times I have been told not to laugh so loud, to have less of an opinion, to pretend you don’t know, not to argue even if he’s wrong, to be less of what you are, to look to the floor, not to aspire, to stop at your M.A. degree. Because most of the men of my culture? They do not like these things in women.
Because Allah knows best.

 

And this morning, I woke up thinking how everything above culminates into one single reality: that I have not yet found a partner with whom to play Scrabble. And because I do not necessarily want a man of my culture, but rather a man of culture, because the men of my culture have made me feel less, too old, too strong, too opinionated, too Western, too this and too that, then this must mean I do not really and truly cross my heart and hope to die want to find my Scrabble partner.
Because Allah knows best.

And this morning, I woke up recalling the advice that I should just get married, get pregnant and who cares about the rest? Because there is only one measure to successful womanhood: A used uterus.
Because Allah knows best.

And this morning, I woke up fighting all that I hate, and all that I have internalized, asking myself how I carry a weight so heavy that it crushes me on days like this. On top of my own expectations, I must also bear the weight of the expectations of my family, because I need to be crushed a little more.
But Allah knows best.

Because Allah knows best.
Because Allah knows best.
Because Allah knows best.

So this morning I woke up battling myself, half as written above and half encased in ‘Allah knows best,’ a suit of armour, a mantra of internalized glue to hold me together.
AlhamduliLah.

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