Flag-Raising My Hijab: An American Woman’s Decision
by Amanda Gormley, guest contributor
The first time I prayed the Islamic prayer, or salat, I stood in my living room in the silvery morning just moments before dawn. I was self-conscious and unsure of what to do. I had prepared flash cards to help me through the complicated process of standing, sitting, and bowing while reciting verses in Arabic. I stood facing Mecca and folded my right hand across my chest. My left hand clutched a flash card that read:
Bismillah ah Rahman ah Raheem
In the name of God, the most gracious, most mercifulAlhamdu lil-ahi rab-bil alamin
All praise be to the Lord, the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worldsAh rahman-ah rahim
The most merciful, most graciousMaliki yawmid-deen
Master of the day of judgmentIyyaka n’abudu wa-Iyaka nasta-in
You alone do we worship, and to you alone do we turn to for helpIhdi-nas sira-tal Mustaqim
Show us the straight pathSira tal-ladhina an-amta alaihim
The path of those who went before us with your graceGhair-il Maghdubi ‘Alaihum
Who did not deserve your angerWa lad dal-in
Nor went astray
The awkward syllables filled the back of my throat like a swallowed cry as I struggled to make the foreign sounds. But as my mouth worked away at the words, I felt my spirit enter a world that existed outside of the senses, a dimension beyond time and space where the body does not confine the soul. I felt a deep, unending sense of mercy and forgiveness surround me.
