How the
gift of a Quran transformed the life of a white,
racist, anti-Muslim working-class Chicago youth.
By James Farrell
I can remember,
throughout my childhood, all the times my parents
fought over money issues, living situations and the
like. I remember living in the project homes on the
South Central side of Chicago with almost nothing to
eat. With a family of 10 it was hard for my father to
support the family in the most desirable fashion. My
father was a hard working man, although he spent most
of his time drinking away our family income and
beating my mom, I still love my father. My father
comes from Irish and German background; he has a sort
of ‘back home' old-fashion way of living. Whenever he
would come home drunk or just upset about something he
would come to me and my younger brother and lay it out
on us until he had nothing else to do. Many times I
could not even walk or breathe from all of the blows.
Of course I had to be the one who got it most because
I was older and any rap my brother gave I would take
his whack as well. This was most of my childhood.
Then came my
teenage years. With everything happening around me,
such as girlfriends, flings, boozing, bars, drugs,
etc. I just could not allow myself to be a part in
any of it. It just didn't feel right. My brother was
one of the biggest drug dealers in Chicago. Many a
day he would bring his stash home to sell locally. He
knew my views on the whole idea and when he left one
day, I took about $1,000 of drugs he had stashed away
and flushed it down the toilet. When he found out, I
swear, he wanted to kill me; and he would have if he
had the chance. Of course I was the one who my
parents took it out on because I was older and I
should have taught him better.
That made me
realize how fragile life can be. I didn't want to die
an idiot so I began studying anything and everything.
I couldn't take my face out of a book unless I put it
in another. You have to realize something about my
family, they are very competitive toward one another.
Once they see the other person advancing they want to
stop you in your tracks and allow you to go no
further. My parents had mixed feelings of my personal
studies. They were worried that I might become
brainwashed or follow some cult. They were right in
one thing, I became a Nazi in 1994. I loved the fact
that Hitler had thousands of people under his
control. It made me feel important...like I was
somebody. My father was pleased with the whole idea.
Back in the 60's when Martin Luther King Jr. was
getting everyone fired up about his ‘dream' my father
was planning on getting rid of all of the blacks in
the Chicago land area. In fact when Martin Luther
King Jr. had marched through Marquette Park and
Sherman Park on the South West side, my father had
formed a gang, (the gang) that not only threw the
blacks out but also caused a white against black war.
That day my father hit Martin Luther King in the nose
with a brick and to this day he brags about it.
Shortly after this incident Charles Manson and his
crazy family were starting their secret mission. He
was another who I admired and wanted to be like.
While in the Nazi's I had witnessed the 60's all over
again. I was there when they organized the attack on
the little 11 year old black boy walking in a white
neighborhood in Chicago (around 1997). They would
have killed him but they wanted to leave a sign. Upon
seeing these things I knew that I didn't fit in
anymore.
In 1995 I had
met the first girl I could ever say I had loved. Even
though I had a perfect opportunity to do whatever I
wanted with her, I didn't. I couldn't allow myself to
be completely intimate with someone who I wasn't
married to. A few months afterward I had proposed to
her and for a little over 3 years we remained engaged
with out being sexually active. We both understood
that more problems would occur. Being with this woman
I was able to become who I wanted to be. I studied
and studied and began to realize my life and it's
purpose. I knew that I was missing something, I mean
I really knew but I couldn't put my finger on it, but
I would not give up searching.
The more I read
the more my parents were drawn back. As I had pointed
out that my family is very competitive they began
mentally attacking me with how bad a child I was and
how ungrateful a person I am for their shelter and
food they supply me with. My parents never graduated
from high school, in fact they both only made it
through the 8th grade and dropped out in the 9th.
Therefore their education is obviously limited. All
they know is what they see on TV and see from the
behavior of people. I have to admit, from my parents
raising me the way they did, I honor their discipline
and give them absolute gratitude for what they did for
me. They forced me to become a man. I had my first job
at the age of 12.
At the age of 13
I was working full time making just as much as they.
By the age of 16 I had my 1st apartment. I cooked,
cleaned, washed my own laundry, did my own shopping
and was preparing myself to get married. From the
point of view that my parents judged people by their
actions, I agreed with them and I still do. But that
caused me to hate Muslims and Islam. I swear I really
hated Muslims like you would not believe. Many say it
is due to the media, well yes, it is a part of the
madness, but mostly it is the own fault of the
Muslims. The Muslims are the ones who have destroyed
the reputation of Islam to a point that others hate us
and we don't even know what we believe in anymore.
It's sad but true. I have to tell you that most
immigrants who enter into this country to make money
are the number one accusers of spoiling the true image
of Islam.
In 1997 my
fiancée had given me the Quran as a gift, simply
because I loved to read. Just to show you how much I
hated the Muslims, I fought with her and because of
that fight, we had separated for quite some time.
Eventually I had picked it up and began reading it. I
can remember that very day. The house was crystal
clean, the air was soft and sweet and the lighting was
dim and perfect for reading. It was the translation
from Abdullah Yusuf Ali. I read his introduction, the
first 3 pages, and I began to cry like a baby. I
cried and cried and I couldn't help myself. I knew
that this was what I was looking for and I wanted to
beat myself to death for not finding it earlier. I
just knew in my heart how magical it was. This was
not the Islam I knew. This was not the Arab thing I
was taught to think was dirty. This was my life
wrapped up in a few pages. Every page told my life.
I was reading my soul and it felt good, but
regretful. After this I had reunited with my fiancée
and we discussed the whole matter maturely. Shortly
afterward we both accepted Islam and were willing to
live our lives as Muslims, even if it meant
separately.
When my parents
found out all hell broke loose. My father had
threatened to take my life. He said, "You were born
Catholic and so help me God I will make sure you die
Catholic!" My mother's reaction was similar. I wanted
to go to college more than anything, I wanted a formal
education. So I got a job and paid my way through
furthering my education in college. At that point my
parents began flipping out over my conversion and my
mother threw me out of the house which caused me to
remain living in the streets for 6 months. I ate out
of garbage cans and I slept in the coldest nights
through the blizzard of ‘99. I walked miles to be
with Muslims. I was chased out of neighborhoods by
police officers for going into black neighborhoods
attending Jummah prayer. I was pelted with rocks,
spat on, harassed, etc. I just wanted to be with
Muslims.
After some time
I met a friend who made a deal with me. He said, "If
you can build us a masjid in our muffler shop, you can
stay there until you find a place." I agreed. The
muffler shop had a second floor area, about 2000
square feet for storage. Every day I had spent hours
on removing inventory supplies and garbage. Within
one month I had utilized half of the space, built a
wall, added a window, installed a door, put in some
carpeting, painted and opened up the first Muffler
shop masjid in the city of Chicago. I had learned the
carpentry trait from my uncle. It was my first full
time job.
Around 6 months
later I had maintained a good job and moved in with
two friends. My old fiancée was out of the picture by
now. We had agreed to live our lives as Muslims, not
as fools. I loved her more than anyone I had ever
loved. But being Muslim was far more important than
being with a person. In 1999 I had become the
President of the Muslims Student Association at my
college. I was attending Halaqat (knowledge circles)
daily, going to seminars, I had a mentor, and I built
a relationship with my ex-enemies; Muslims.
In 2000 I was on
my way to Hajj. An experience I will never forget. I
had visited Medina and other neighboring areas. The
one thing I had realized at Hajj was the truth about
God and the history of Islam. We can only go back in
time so far and we can only rely on what text books
tell us about people and places. In Mecca and Medina
I had seen with my very own eyes the magic of Islam's
great history. It was as if I was living the
history. I felt the Hadith come to life. I saw the
Sahabah in the mountain tops. I smelt the Battle of
Badr. I tasted the air the prophet once breathed. I
felt the real Islam that each and everyone of us are
destroying.
Although I am
alone, without a wife or a family to call my own, I
know Islam is life, not a way of life but life
itself. I understand that Islam is not a religion,
because religion can be pluralized. I understand that
Islam cannot be judged by the actions of Muslims,
Muslims can only be judged through Islam. I have been
given a great opportunity to become who I am and who I
am is no one no higher or less than each and every one
else. I was given the opportunity to acquire my dream
job. I have always wanted to work for relief work and
helping people, as much as my past contradicts the
fact, but it's true. I now work for Global Relief
Foundation; it's where I have been for over a year
now.
As much as I fed
you with words of my life, nothing can explain my
heart. I have only mentioned a few of the many
obstacles I have faced. I know that many of you have
faced so much more. My purpose of telling you this is
to say that I understand the difficulties many are
going through. Waslamu Alaykum
Add Comments