Dear Khadijah

Dear Khadijah,

I admire you.

Your resilience, your strength and your commitment to your faith.

Often I wonder how you did it? How were you a firm believer and supporter of Islam? How were you so confident in your faith?

I find that I struggle a lot with my place as a Muslim woman. I struggle with the idea of having a man make my decisions for me. Especially when I know that I know what's best for me.

It hurts. It hurts to consistently hear that my problem is that I do not submit enough... to Allah's creation. It hurts to hear the reason I should not be on the same platform as a man is because I'm too emotional, not logical, and very much irrational.

For years I thought maybe I am the exception. Maybe I'm in the minority of women who is not overly-emotional, very logical and rational. And I came to peace with that.

But over the years, I've relegated myself to the role of an observer. A conscious, critical observer. You see, I would exit my body and view the people I knew, and some that I've even loved, as an impartial note taker. I would see the situation in a very detached position, from afar.

And I've come to realize something very important. I'm not the only rational, logical woman who isn't overly-emotional in the world. In fact, I'm not even in the minority. Most of the women I have had the privilege of coming into contact with have blown me away with the extent of their wisdom. I realized that we are a very resilient and brave gender. Much more than we give ourselves credit for, and so much more than others credit us for.

This realization shook my core. Maybe the explanations that I took as truth, and the leaders I deemed worthy were wrong. Maybe they were so wrapped up in their own understanding that was influenced by their misogynistic culture that they could see no other way. And we, the women, nodded our heads along in agreement, affirming to them that they were right. Because we were taught it was wrong to disagree. But as we got caught up in this vicious cycle, we forgot our ancestors. Our women predecessors.

We forgot Um Salama and the treaty of hudabiyah. We forgot Aisha, one of the greatest scholars in Islam. We forgot what an essential role women played on the battlefield, in the affairs of state, in the very basis of the budding Islamic society itself.

And we forgot you Khadijah. We forgot how without your influential backing, both emotionally and financially, the Prophet (pbuh) would have been completely alone. You were a crucial part of Allah's plan for the spread of Islam.

I guess that means that I am also a crucial part of Allah's plan. That we, women, have an undeniable and irrefutable role.

Maybe the issue isn't the religion itself, but its followers.

Our men seem to have a shallow, superficial understanding of Islam. They are no Umar ibn Al-Khattab, or Abu-Bakr or Uthman or Ali. And they are certainly no Muhammad. And yet, we allow them the self-indulgent belief that their word is on par with that of the Prophet.

Forgetting that the greatest legacy of Muslim women is that of dissent. And Questioning. And unrelenting purpose, seeking to truly be scholars, policy makers, advisers and business magnates.

So I have not yet come to know exactly where I fit in; what my role is, but Khadijah, I'm slowly getting there. Learning, and being an active agent in finding out that one place where I am essential to all of Islam.