Nice to meet you Muslim, I mean M'aam

Where do I begin? I have a whole new schedule with the new job. I love the new job. I am a program director for a social service agency. The agency is much larger than I am used to working with. This has its pros and cons. The main pro is an increase in resources, which means much larger staff, budgets, money for office supplies, creamer for the coffee and support services for the participants/clients. The main cons are the constraints from government policy and bureaucracy which can mean a loss of creativity.

The office where I am located (there are many in the agency as a whole) is a crazy maze with mis-matched furnishings and complete with an amazing staff. I love the office and staff. The good thing is that my boss is in another location, so the buck stops at me so to speak. The bad thing is that I am replacing err succeeding a woman who has an amazing shadow. She has stayed in the industry, but happens to now work for the entity issuing our main grant/contract (government). I am constantly reminded that I have some big shoes to fill. I can’t help but feel a little nervous about being watched and literally monitored by her. And, all the staff has made it clear that they miss her. But, I know she has laid a great foundation which should make for an easy transition upwards.

The staffs as I said earlier are an amazingly diverse and hard-working group. I have had the positive experience of sitting down with each person and having a one-on-one meeting. The great thing about working in a social service field is that we can celebrate diversity and one’s personal accomplishments and unique experiences that they bring to the work place.

I have never been so immersed in diversity. For once I am seen as symbol of diversity as well. I am in an area that is hyper-sensitive (esp. within this social service agency) to the presence of Muslims because of the large number of East African refugees, many of whom are Muslims. I now carry my husband’s last name and people are very reactive to the new white boss-lady with a Muslim name.

Overall, everyone has shown nothing but warmth and acceptance. At times I feel a little uncomfortable for the spectacle of sorts that I have become. I’m sure my recent insecurities and fatigue as a result of adjusting to my new role compound these feelings ten-fold.

There have been a few interesting interactions. Like, the woman who questioned, “How could YOU be a Muslim?” upon just hearing my last name. Presumably, using one’s last name now gives license for one to question religiosity and one’s appearance (i.e. Gora without hijab) also defines one’s relationship to God. Here, I just smiled and swallowed hard, trying to wipe the redness from my cheeks.

In another incident, I was sitting in around a crammed board-room table for a work-related meeting. Before the meeting starts, the facilitator introduces me as the newcomer to the agency. Upon hearing my name, the gentleman next to me (presumably Muslim because his name was “Muhammad”), says, in a very loud voice for all to hear, “Oh! I didn’t know you were Muslim!” He proceeds to pull his chair away from the desk as to be sure not to touch me. Am I plagued? Should he be touching non-Muslim women?

It is all amusing to me because I have always assumed the role as dedicated, hard-working, passionate, but quiet woman. And, now I feel like I am being thrust into a more extroverted role, shouting look at me! God works in mysterious ways.

Dreaming "Gora"

The secret is out. I do dream “gora”. With the new job and a visit from Mom, I have been away from blog-land and missing it tremendously. I was touched by some fellow bloggers inquiries to where I am. The other night I had a dream that I attended a blog meet up in San Fran (jealous of Baraka J).

So there I was, sitting at a large dining table taking in all the new faces behind the stories I read each day. During this dream, my conscious and subconscious were having quite a fight. My mind’s eye dream-view was assigning very Euro attributes to some of the blogger’s whom I KNOW are desi (such as Aisha, Mystic, Baraka, and Opinionatedinjerzee). So I kept telling myself, “No, they don’t look like that, Aisha has beautiful long dark hair, etc.”. LOL

I mulled over this for quite some time once I was fully awake. I don’t consider myself to be racist and I definitely feel that people from Pakistan and India are much more beautiful than those that “look” like I do. It is disturbing and fascinating to me that my mind does truly “think” in white terms.

Despite this oddity, it was a great feeling to “meet” everyone and I hope that all are well.

Shan to the Rescue

Today was day two at work. I rushed home to do step four of five of my grand plan to clean the house in preparation of Mom’s visit on Thursday. After completing this, I contemplated what I could make for day three at work in which there is going to be a farewell party potluck. Exhausted, I had no interest in cooking anything. Dun, dun dunnahhhh…Shan to the rescue! I quickly whipped up some Chanay/Cholay with Chat Masala, thanks to my superhero friend, Shan.

This brought back memories of one of those competitive super-woman moments. On several occasions I would marvel at my hubby’s cousin’s cooking. Knowing that she, too, was a very busy professional, I marveled how she must be in the kitchen at un-Godly hours preparing her biryani, kofta, haleem, etc. All I knew was that my MIL made everything from scratch and the food tasted marvelous, but the process was no joke. The hostess/cook would just nod and smile and take my compliments without ever answering my question of how she was able to accomplish such a feat. For this, I was very jealous.

Then one evening, another guest questioned the hostess as to whether or not she was using Shan? The conversation then switched to Urdu. All smiles and laughter, all I heard was “Gi…Han……Shan…..Shan…Shan” and a lot of words I didn’t understand.

“Who is Shan”, I thought to myself? It sounded like the Irish name of “Shawn”. Was there an Irishman making her food? Was Shan a restaurant on Devon Street? Is Shan a Desi Aunty catering her food?

Ever so curious, I couldn’t help, but be impolite. On the drive home I turned to my hubby and asked him if he knew of this “Shan” person. He rolled with laughter at my exasperation. “Hon, it’s the Desi cheat sheet or cliff notes of cooking. C’mon I’ll take you to the store and get you some.”

Hallelujah, I love my buddy, Shan! But, hide him before your MIL comes!

Gratitude

Reasons to be Grateful:

Today is my last day of unemployment; starting tomorrow, I will be gainfully employed.
My husband is awesome!
My Mom is coming to visit us this week. This will mark the one year anniversary since her last bout with her illness, Alhumdalilah!
My brother and I are becoming closer and I am learning to trust him again. He maintains that he is now sober 2.5 months.
My friends, the old and new, are awesome!
We are going to Switzerland in a month.
I have had so many consecrated opportunities and experiences for which I am grateful and cherish those memories.