By Shariffa A Carlo

In the Name of Allah, most Compassionate, most Merciful

The story of how I reverted to al Islam is a story of plans. I made plans, the group I was with made plans, and Allah made plans. And Allah is the Best of Planners. When I was a teenager, I came to the attention of a group of people with a very sinister agenda. They were and probably still are a loose association of individuals who work in government positions but have a special agenda – to destroy Islam. It is not a governmental group that I am aware of, they simply use their positions in the US government to advance their cause.

One member of this group approached me because he saw that I was articulate, motivated and very much the women’s rights advocate. He told me that if I studied International Relations with an emphasis in the Middle East, he would guarantee me a job at the American Embassy in Egypt. He wanted me to eventually go there to use my position in the country to talk to Muslim women and encourage the fledgling women’s rights movement. I thought this was a great idea. I had seen the Muslim women on TV; I knew they were a poor oppressed group, and I wanted to lead them to the light of 20th century freedom.

With this intention, I went to college and began my education. I studied Quraan, hadith and Islamic history. I also studied the ways I could use this information. I learned how to twist the words to say what I wanted them to say. It was a valuable tool. Once I started learning, however, I began to be intrigued by this message. It made sense. That was very scary. Therefore, in order to counteract this effect, I began to take classes in Christianity. I chose to take classes with this one professor on campus because he had a good reputation and he had a Ph.D. in Theology from Harvard University. I felt I was in good hands. I was, but not for the reasons I thought. It turns out that this professor was a Unitarian Christian. He did not believe in the trinity or the divinity of Jesus. In actuality, he believed that Jesus was a prophet.

He proceeded to prove this by taking the Bible from its sources in Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic and show where they were changed. As he did this, he showed the historical events which shaped and followed these changes. By the time I finished this class, my deen had been destroyed, but I was still not ready to accept Islam. As time went on, I continued to study, for myself and for my future career. This took about three years. In this time, I would question Muslims about their beliefs. One of the individuals I questioned was a Muslim brother with the MSA. Alhamdulillah, he saw my interest in the deen, and made it a personal effort to educate me about Islam. May Allah increase his reward. He would give me dawaa at every opportunity which presented itself.

One day, this man contacts me, and he tells me about a group of Muslims who were visiting in town. He wanted me to meet them. I agreed. I went to meet with them after ishaa prayer. I was led to a room with at least 20 men in it. They all made space for me to sit, and I was placed face to face with an elderly Pakistani gentleman. Mashallah, this brother was a very knowledgeable man in matters of Christianity. He and I discussed and argued the varying parts of the bible and the Quraan until the fajr. At this point, after having listened to this wise man tell me what I already knew, based on the class I had taken in Christianity, he did what no other individual had ever done. He invited me to become a Muslim. In the three years I had been searching and researching, no one had ever invited me. I had been taught, argued with and even insulted, but never invited. May Allah guide us all. So when he invited me, it clicked. I realized this was the time. I knew it was the truth, and I had to make a decision. Alhamdulillah, Allah opened my heart, and I said, “Yes. I want to be a Muslim.” With that, the man led me in the shahadah – in English and in Arabic. I swear by Allah that when I took the shahadah, I felt the strangest sensation. I felt as if a huge, physical weight had just been lifted off my chest; I gasped for breath as if I were breathing for the first time in my life.

Alhamdulillah, Allah had given me a new life – a clean slate – a chance for Jennah, and I pray that I live the rest of my days and die as a Muslim. Ameen.

By Juan Galvan

As I fly home to Austin, Texas, I remember the days before my conversion to Islam. I am reminded of Armando, a Latino Muslim. He helped introduce me to Islam. While pointing to the East and then the West, Armando said, “Look what God has given us. He created everything. God is All-Powerful.” He had just finished praying magrib. The beauty of the sunset is still present in my mind. “Truly, in remembering Allah do hearts find rest,” Allah states in the Qur’an 13:28. Looking outside this window, I cannot help grinning as I look to my left and then to my right. I found the true purpose of life. The purpose is not to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. Instead, we must accept God as God. We Muslims acknowledge the true nature of our Creator. By doing so, we accept our own purpose as slaves to our Creator.

I am on my way home after visiting my family for the first time after my reversion to Islam. People who knew nothing about Islam surrounded me. My fourteen-year-old sister Cathy asked, “Isn’t Muhammad your God?” “Uh, no,” I replied. My parents, my brother, and my five sisters all live in Pampa, Texas. My dad and I joked about each other’s religion. “Why are you praying to that carpet?” he asked.

“Why do you have statues of dead people on your wall?” I asked, pointing to the large Jesus cross in the living room. On my first day home, I went to Cathy’s room to pray after seeing a cross and religious images on my parent’s wall. No crosses or Jesus pictures in her room. However, there was a huge Backstreet Boy’s poster. I figured it was a lesser of two evils. My parent’s have statutes or pictures of Jesus and Mary on almost every wall in their house. I have a great relationship with my family. Mexican-American households are well known for their love of family and religion.

During my visit to Pampa, I spent much of my time discussing Islam. People who ask you why you chose “that religion” are asking for Dawah. I gladly provided answers. My dad said, “My mom was Catholic, and I’ll be a Catholic when I die.” Mexican-Americans seem to think that their ancestors have always been Roman Catholic. Our ancestors from Spain were Muslim. Our ancestors from Mexico were pagan. Clinging on to a religion simply because of tradition is insane. I refuse to be a blind follower. I am Muslim because Islam is true. While visiting my family, I spoke frequently about Islam. If you love something, you discuss it any chance you get. I hope I did not annoy my family. I gave my brother a copy of the Qur’an and a small introductory book about Islam. I bookmarked www.LatinoDawah.org and www.HispanicMuslims.com on my family’s computers. I copied several Islamic related files to their computers hoping they would accidentally run across them. I asked questions that only the true religion of God can answer. God is three? Jesus is God? Original sin? We find the answers to such questions by studying the fundamentals of Islam: the Oneness of God, Prophethood, and the Day of Judgment.

I spent much time trying to clear up misconceptions about Islam. Why aren’t Americans better informed about Islam? Americans have many questions about Islam. Many times, it is good to bring those questions out in the open. I wanted my sister to understand that Islam is not oppressive to women. I wanted to explain why Muslim women cover. Eventually, I would ask her, “Do you know why women wear scarves?” She simply replied, “Nuh uh.” I feared her reply would be, “What? You think I dress like a slut or something?” I explained that Muslims believe that women should not be treated as sexual objects. I also explained that Islam is like risk management. Men and women are both instructed to lower their gaze.

On my way to Pampa, the airport security was very tight. A security guard checked my bags. He saw my Qur’an, my Islamic literature, my Islamic audiotapes, and my prayer rug. I hope I did not scare the security guard. I considered praying at the Austin airport before stepping onboard the plane but I did not want to give any passengers a heart attack. I skipped fajr prayer for America. George Bush, Jr would be proud. After telling my brother about this, he suggested that I return home with a flight instructor’s manual. Soon after the attacks, my dad asked my mom, “What’d he get himself into?” They had not heard from me in a while so they were a little concerned. People act as if some Arab in Saudi Arabia has a long list of Muslims and can call anyone on the list when he wants to blow up a building.

On my return to Austin, not only were my bags checked but my shoes as well. Most Americans are happy to see increased security. The camouflaged military guys who carry machine guns seem rather unnecessary. The airlines will do whatever it takes to make Americans feel safe and secure. Before takeoff, airline attendants reminded us that our seats could be used as a floatation device although we knew chances of hitting a body of water were slim. Suppose we had to jump ship. A witness would point to the sky saying, “Oh my God look at all those weirdoes up there holding on to their seats!”

My mom cried after hugging me goodbye. I tried to hold back my tears. I hope that she cried because she would miss me and not because she feared I would join the Taliban. As I look outside my window, I see glimpses of the Texas Panhandle. I see canyons then farms and deserted roads then canyons again. I am reminded of Father Dale. During a Sunday sermon, he admitted, “While I was a priest in Hawaii, I would see a beautiful beach and palm trees on my way to work. Now, I see miles and miles of cotton on my way to work!” Father Dale has since left the priesthood and has gotten married. Maybe he will embrace Islam next. You never know. Looking outside my window, I must thank Allah for the canyons, the cotton, and the other gifts He has given us.

By Juan Galvan

In high school, I received a jolt to my long-held belief when a Christian friend told me that the Holy Trinity was not true and that Jesus was not God. “He was wrong” I told myself. Jesus had to be God. God and humanity were disconnected by the sin committed by Adam and Eve. God sent his only ‘begotten’ son to die because He loved us so much. Because only God forgives, Jesus had to be God. I even had the Bible quotes to prove it! Indeed, being a devout Roman Catholic Christian, I have read almost the entire Bible. In high school, I was a lecturer, usher, Eucharistic minister, and CCD teacher. I am the godfather for a nephew and a niece. The idea that Jesus was God made much sense.

I am a Mexican-American who comes from a modest background. I spent my adolescent and teenage years in such small Texas Panhandle towns as Quitaque, Turkey, Lakeview, and Memphis. None of them has a mall, a movie theater, or a McDonald’s. Memphis, Texas, population 2,300, proudly proclaims itself “The Cotton Capital of the World.” In Memphis, if you hear a fire truck or police car, either your neighbor’s house is on fire or your neighbor is being arrested. Growing up in small communities gave me much appreciation for the simplicity in God’s creations.

I graduated from Memphis High School in Memphis, Texas in 1994. I did well in high school and would attend Texas Tech University in Lubbock. In 1998 I began attending the University of Texas at Austin. I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in MIS in December 2001. Not bad for a kid who had to hoe cotton most of his junior high and high school summers to pay for his clothes and school supplies! My dad was a cotton ginner. Now, he is a custodian at a junior high school in Pampa, Texas. I had eight siblings, but in 2000 my 17-year old sister died in a car wreck.

I have always had respect for other religions. I would often attend other Christian churches and join interfaith Bible study groups. While in one such group, I told my friend Chris that I was a Catholic. Chris blatantly told me that the Catholic Church was “a false doctrine.” As you can imagine, I defended my religion. Chris accused me of worshipping Mary, Saints, and the Pope. I argued that we only revere them. Around this time, I happened to see a man praying. His knees, hands, and forehead were touching the ground, and he was barefoot. After he finished praying, I introduced myself to him. He said his name was Armando, and that he was a Muslim. I thought to myself: “Ok, freaky, you’re Muslim. You can’t be Muslim. What’s this Hispanic guy doing praying to Allah?” He later told me that Spain was Muslim for over 700 years and that thousands of Spanish words have Arabic roots. The ruins of mosques with Qur’anic writings have been found in Cuba, Mexico, Texas and Nevada.

Most importantly, Armando spoke to me about Islam. I began to realize that my reverence for Mary and Saints was much more than mere reverence. Chris was right. However, we were both worshipping Jesus! Armando said that Jesus was only a prophet and that nothing and no one is worthy of worship but Allah. Allah literally means “The God” in English and “El Dios” in Spanish. Muhammad (pbuh) perfected religion. Islam is the true, universal religion of God.

Many of my questions were answered! What is the purpose of life? How can the Father be the Son? Why can’t God just forgive anyone He wants? What happens to babies who die before baptism? In Qur’an 5:83, Allah states: “And when they (who call themselves Christian) listen to what has been sent down to the Messenger, you see their eyes overflowing with tears because of the truth they have recognized. They say: ‘Our Lord! We believe; so write us down among the witnesses.'”

Indeed, my eyes overflowed with tears as I read that verse. Yet I did not embrace Islam until three years after meeting Armando, because I did not want to change. A struggle occurs within everyone, everyday, and everywhere. We struggle to attain what is most important for us. By embracing Islam, we tell Allah (swt) that He is most important and that we are prepared to struggle to do what is right and to avoid what is wrong. I am a Mexican-American Muslim.