Well,since someone actually did ask, here's - once and for all - THE conversion story.
Some of you may be aware of how I normally avoid this topic - simply because after telling the same story for 17 years, you get kinda tired. Also I, in general, oppose to people randomly asking converts about their stories as a form of inspiration porn (yes I used the p- word. I apologise, but that's how it feels like sometimes) - where you're almost required to entertain a group of inspiration-yearning born-Muslims with the story of your "beautiful journey". There is a lot of expectation regarding how it should go - the more tragedy and the more emotion, the better. The actual story doesn't really matter to most of the listeners - rather it serves as a means of boosting their own identity/ superiority of Islam as a religion. The convert is in the spotlight, but only as a disposable storyteller, who's identity, experience and persona is often of no interest, once her/his story is told (and she definitely is not to be taken seriously or listened to, when it comes to communal affairs/ masjid boards etc).
OK, rant over - by the way, most converts probably really don't mind telling their story. I don't really mind either - it's just that it's more how you're seen/ are treated after you stop being inspirational/ need help/ go through a crisis in your faith, that matters.
I mean seriously, I promise the rant is actually done now.
So.
The story.
I converted to Islam less than a year after 9/11 (great timing, I know), when I was in the middle of my second year in high school (is that what that's called?), aged 16.
People seem to think that's very young - but to be fair most convert sisters I know have been between 15-19 year olds too at the time of their conversion. I think it's something to do with becoming more of an independent thinker - before that you kinda do what everyone else does and think that the world works in a certain way : that there's us and them, the good and the bad, the right and the wrong - that the people in the past were more or less ignorant and humanity has, since, developed and somehow magically become more intelligent - which, of course, is absolutely not true. Humans are as dumb as they've ever been.
Funnily enough, I was a religious child, although my parents were not religious nor were members of any church. Religion was not in any way indoctrinated upon me- but I still believed in, and prayed to God. Of course at some point it became "lame" and so I stopped it, but no matter how hard I tried to be a "cool" atheist, I was never really as in to it as I pretended to be. I felt a need to connect to the Divine, but didn't really know how.
Christianity?
At 15, I went to confirmation school like almost all other Finnish teenagers. This came towards the end of what I think of as my "searching period" - before that I had decided that I was Wiccan/ new age spiritualist/ definitely very, very liberal etc. Confirmation school is what Lutheran (christian) teenagers go to, to learn about their religion and to "confirm" their faith - after a week or two (most kids go to a camp that's really fun, apparently, and only lasts a week. I didn't because camping), they have an event at the church and a party (usually with lots of presents) and they're considered an official member of the church.My parents are not christian, so I was never baptised as a baby - they baptised me a day before my confirmation so I was able to participate in it. I wanted to do it mainly because I wanted the party - and the presents that came with it. But despite my rather materialistic endeavours, I did sincerely try to give Christianity a chance. I tried to understand it and asked a lot of questions and probably drove the poor priest a bit insane. I had always been into reading the Bible and knew it quite well - but the creed just did not make sense to me. I could not, despite many explanations, understand the Trinity, amongst other things.
I was still trying to make sense of it all about 3-4 months later, when me and some friends started to frequent a cafe where a lot of Muslims (mainly men) hung out. We started hanging out there a lot because it was central, the staff was cool and you were allowed - back in those days still - to smoke indoors. I ended up working for one of the Muslim guys who owned a restaurant (obviously not very legally) and that was the first time I came into actual close contact with Muslims on daily basis. (Actually, not totally- as I had been a mentor to a little Muslim girl at primary, who was (and still is) absolutely awesome. She was my first Muslim friend (we reconnected later and yes, we're still friends) - but of course we had been kids back then so it was a bit different. )
People in Finland are, in general, quite well educated when it comes to world religions- at least knowing the basics of all of them - but do remember this was around 9/11, so there was a whole lot of propaganda around (luckily I was anti-establishment enough to buy none of it). Anyway, the mental image I had of Muslims was not that they were extreme, oppressive loonies - but that they were devout, and actually followed their religion. Working for a Muslim guy then, came as a bit of a shock: there was a lot of very obviously haram stuff going on (men cheating on their wives/ evading taxes, employing under aged chicks to moonlight, ahem. etc), but at the same time - these guys were very firmly Muslim and very proud of their Muslim identities - they often referred to their religion and the Prophet SAWS, and would be very particular about some things though being very lax about others. I found this interesting - but couldn't really respect these guys a whole lot, and eventually left the job for... Reasons.
Pre- google googlings
Shortly after that, I met a guy, at the very same cafe- who was very different from the others. I wasn't really sure what it was that made him different - but later I realised that it was just that I had never met a really practising Muslim before. We'd start meeting up but he was always very adamant in that we could not be in a relationship because I was not a Muslim . This intrigued me as my experience of men (Muslims and others alike) was mainly that whatever ideals they held, they were very ready to throw in the bin for a girl - and yes, I realise I probably had not had the best experiences with men thus far.
(* Yes, I know, not all men)
I realised that despite having looked into pretty much every religion during my "searching period", I had skipped Islam. Even though I was lucky enough not to be hindered by the common misconceptions of it, I had dismissed it as "too traditional". Almost as if the truth that was out there couldn't possibly be in something that was so well known. Islam, though it seemed very well organised, didn't seem to me awfully spiritual (yeah, I know how wrong I was). I had imagined the "truth" to be something that needed to be searched far and wide - there was a part of me saying "surely, it couldn't be this simple."
I started looking into it, a bit like I had looked into Christianity too - thinking, well, at least when I figure out this is ain't it, I will have made an informed choice. There was very little use of googling anything 17 years ago, there was like one Islamic forum back in those days that was in Finnish, but I never really got much out of that. I decided to go about it the old fashioned way, and tried to find some books on Islam. There were very few in my smallish local library - most of those very orientalist and mainly repeating the same couple of things I already knew. So, I decided to go and buy a Qur'an- I went ahead and bought a Finnish translation. It was not a great translation, but by far also not the worst one (as I came to know later). I read the whole translation quite quickly and there was something there. I wasn't really sure what it was. It seemed... Simple. The stories were the same as in the Bible - but seemed more genuine. I felt drawn to the symbols of Islam - the hijab, the prayer etc - I worked on believing in God. And I prayed - for guidance. For, in the want of a better word a "sign."
There was no one, huge moment where I realised I wanted to be a Muslim. It was rather a gradual realisation, that that which I had always known to be the truth, was called Islam. I thought I had been looking for some major awakening, but what I actually had been looking for was a name for the truth I already knew.
Wow.
That sounded like a right cliche.
Home
I put on a hijab before I ever said shahada. Many Muslims, converts and born-Muslims alike, struggle with it - but to me, essentially it was a sign of being a part of something bigger than myself. The other reason was, of course, that I had no idea if there was .... a mosque or something I could go to. Somehow it did not occur to me at all, that there would have been Muslims who I could have contacted or asked questions to - it didn't even occur to me that there might have been other Finnish Muslims. So, you can imagine my surprise when one day (maybe my third or fourth time wearing a scarf) I was standing outside of a shop in our little town centre, waiting for my friend who had popped in for something, when a beautiful hijabi lady walked by, with her little boy. She noticed me - or rather my scarf, and like an exited whirlwind was all over me in a second, asking if I was a Muslim and telling me I must come to the mosque on Saturday and how they just had Eid and if she had known I was a Muslim I could have joined and ... I muttered some replies, almost in a daze - not really knowing what the protocol was. We chatted for a while, and I promised to go to the mosque, which - now that she had told me the name, I could look up - in a phone book. Yes, I really am THAT old.On Friday I went to check where it was with a friend. I was so nervous I wouldn't find it: mosques in Finland don't look like mosques - so I felt more comfortable knowing where I was going to go.
The next day, I made my way to the mosque again. I was received in a small library room/ office adjacent to the musallah, where a group of women were sitting - reading together. I was SO incredibly nervous - but I have to say I have never, ever felt more welcome anywhere. I read the shahada that one of the sisters wrote on a blackboard for me - and no, I did not really know how to say any of the Arabic words. That was... Very hard. And very embarrassing. I didn't know how to pray, I knew pretty much nothing at all - but I prayed with them anyway.
I was blessed, very, very blessed, to come across such an awesome, supportive group of Muslim women - this should not be taken for granted. Many converts don't feel an instant bond with their community, and sometimes feel left out. In our community though, there were a lot of other young girls (I was the youngest, but the others were just a year or two older) all of them had said their shahada within a year - there were also some born Muslims- mainly Arabs and Somalis, as well as some converts who had been Muslim for longer - like the lady I had met before. The girls however... The girls. *Sighs in misty-eyed recollection*
They pretty much adopted me- they gave me my first hijabs, they gave me some booklets and instructions on how to pray (they were little drawings of stick men drawn on squared paper) - they took me in, and not at all in a patronising "let us teach you all about Islam" kinda way. I didn't feel like I had to pretend I was something that I wasn't, or a better Muslim than I was. Everything I am today, and I do tell this to them too, I owe to these girls. We are still in touch - most of us anyway- and though things have changed ( and we have changed), it's good to know that there are people out there that I can go to, and just be me. It also helps to have people at your back who will, no matter how much you learn or gain titles, always remember you as your 16 year old, dorky self and not take you seriously.
Conclusion
So yeah, I guess that was my conversion story. Of course that's not where it ended. And the reality of it was much deeper and more complicated - and can't probably be put into words. This, however, is the version I have gotten used to telling to people over the past many years. Hope it had enough details for whoever asked me to write this story 😌.Oh, what happened to the guy I met? I married him - then I divorced him - but that, kids, is a whole other (very long) story.
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Salaaam and byeeeee
