Will Ramadan bring out the con-artist in you?

“Cover your head”, he boomed at her from across the living room. “Now, go and read the Quran”.

Her limbs were shaking. She barely made it to the other side of the door before the tears burned down her 8-year-old cheeks. And yet, she had no idea what she’d done wrong.

Punishments like this continued throughout her childhood. She’d say something that mildly resembled an opinion, and he’d tell her to pray. She’d watch a TV show he didn’t like, and he’d give her the Holy Book to study.

She had no idea what the Arabic meant. But she’d follow his direction all the same. He was her Dad. He knew best.

But as the years passed, and her opinions became stronger, the punishments didn’t feel as such any more. They were means of escape. And of false conformity. They were investments in her pretence. The facade she created to preserve herself.

As long as she did what he wanted her to, she’d be free to be who she wanted to be.

For him, she was exactly the daughter he could be proud of. But only when she was in the house.

But when she left? She became who she wanted to be.

Or so she thought.

It started innocently, during her teenage years. She’d leave the house for school and wear the scarf around her head. The undeniable symbol of a Muslim girl. Protected. Sweet. Naive.

But when she was safely around the corner, the scarf would be removed. Her hair would be let loose, and lips glossed. The creation of a new mask.

This new mask was for her friends. Who never saw her as he saw her. To them, she was a rebellious Muslim — the one who questioned why it’s the men who are destined for seven virgins in Heaven, and suggested that perhaps some people starved themselves during one month of the year to cleanse themselves of the sins they committed throughout the other 11.

She said things they wouldn’t even dare to think. In their eyes, she was the minority who had the audacity to live life on her terms. They just didn’t have it in them to defy their parents as she did.

As she progressed into adulthood, her actions became riskier. She’d date boys for years without her parents finding out. She smoked cigarettes, and drank alcohol at after-work events.

All this was a crime in the eyes of their religion.

And when religion is used as a weapon for punishment, our children becoming crimimals shouldn’t come as a surprise. But these criminals don’t commit crimes against the State. In fact, they don’t commit any crimes at all.

What they do commit to, however, is a life of lies.

They lie to their parents when they conform to the rituals of the Holy Month of Ramadan. Waking up to start their fast before the crack of dawn, but sneaking a sip of water throughout the day because man, this thing is tough in the Summer.

They lie to their friends by not telling them that a part of them does believe in what their religion teaches. The part about living in harmony with your neighbour, and giving a portion of your wealth to the poor.

But most of all? They lie to themselves.

For years, they convince themselves they’re content with living this double-life; this con-artistry that’s cultivated in detail. Every scene set perfectly to win over the audience.

Because it is an art. To convince everyone around you to look at the same person and see who they want to see? It’s an investment. It’s courageous. It’s a labour.

But when all is said and done? It’s exhausting.

To constantly cover a lie with another lie. To tell your father you’re away for a work event, when really your boyfriend is taking you to meet his parents. Then when he calls you during dinner, you excuse yourself, saying it’s your boss calling to ask about the annual report you’re reviewing together. On a Sunday.

It’s infuriating. Because you live in the free world, and yet there are so many people you have to please. There are so many expectations from people in your life, that you’re not free to just be yourself.

And ultimately? It’s sad. To dream about a day when you can just sit down with your Dad and tell him who you really are. To show him, that despite your actions not being representative of a good little Muslim, you share the same values he does. If he’d go beyond his judgement, he’d see that he did raise a good person. With beliefs and standards that do make him proud.

It’s sad because you’ll never see that day.

With Ramadan having started, millions of Muslims globally will be foregoing food and water from dawn ‘til dusk, for the sake of their beliefs.

The majority will be fasting because they believe thhat sacrificing nourishment brings them closer to God. They’re learning patience with themselves, compassion for those who have far less than them, and taking the opportunity for introspection.

But for those who are doing it just to keep up appearances, my question to you is this:

Is the effort worth it?