How often do we harbor resentment against someone, sometimes without even knowing them, because of words they spoke or actions they took, intentionally or otherwise? Even though I am a childhood trauma survivor, there’s a particular person who hurt me as an adult, during the most difficult time of my life, as I was already vulnerable following an emergency cesarean-section. Their actions carried so much weight because they were important to me — I loved them. I could not put a timeline on forgiveness for them — instead, I grew bitter and resentful, and was overcome by crippling grief for more than a year.
During that time, my therapist recommended that I mourn the loss of the relationship as one would mourn the death of a loved one, because it was a death — a death of a close relationship, of the love and trust between us. While I was mourning, my heart “burned,” as we would say in Urdu, my native language. I eventually realized that I could not let them have this much of a grip on my heart, so I chose to set them free.
Perhaps this decision was selfish, or perhaps it was driven by my religious belief to “pardon and forgive” because I too would “love to be forgiven by God” [Quran 24:22]. Regardless, choosing to set them free was liberating. It is a choice I would make again — even if it takes time to reach that stage. Setting them free from my mind and heart could neither undo the harm nor repair the relationship, but it relieved me of my grief and disappointment.
Choosing to forgive someone isn’t easy, and forgiving oneself is especially hard. Sometimes we are the ones who have caused harm, and we either avoid the person we have harmed or find other ways to cover up our mistakes. Sometimes, we prevent ourselves from reaching our true potential because we let guilt over past mistakes or hurt from other people hold us back from being in community with one another in the present.
As a chaplain, I often see people who would choose loneliness over showing up because they are afraid of being judged by others. This is especially true during Ramadan, when Muslim students may not be fasting for various reasons, including health exemptions [Quran 2:185]. Or, they may feel that they are not “religious enough.” It is as if they let someone obstruct their relationship with the Divine, a relationship that is not meant to be shared with anyone.
We often find that we are prisoners of our own minds as a result of the assumptions that we make about ourselves and the inability to forgive ourselves and others. In doing so, we limit ourselves. On the other hand, there are the 1.9 million incarcerated people in the United States who are prisoners of more than just their own thoughts. A staggering 9 percent of state prisoners were reported to be Muslim in 2019, even though Muslims represent only 1 percent of the total U.S. population.
Yet, some of them — like Amin Anderson, who was featured in the CBS series The State of Spirituality with Lisa Ling — have found ways to forgive themselves, as well as the people and circumstances that led them to the brutal and dehumanizing system of the U.S. prison-industrial complex.
In the series, Anderson says that he “recovered his humanity” through practicing Islam. According to Rami Nsour — the founder of Tayba Foundation, a non-profit organization that guided and supported Anderson on his journey in Islam — when prisoners practice Islam, “they see that those walls can’t confine them anymore.” In their devotion, they find freedom from bars that attempt to confine them.
Anderson and Abdul Muhaymin Al Salim, who are now instructors with the organization, are visiting us at the College on Thursday and Friday. We hope that you can join us to learn from the stories of Tayba Foundation’s students about resilience in the face of injustice.
Ramadan — a time during which Muslims believe that God sets many souls free from self-inflicted oppression — is a timely opportunity for us to reflect upon our shortcomings and those of others.
As I muster the courage to write a letter this Ramadan to the person who hurt me over two years ago and let them know that I have forgiven them, I am also working on my heart: I am trying to liberate myself from holding grudges and resentment toward the people nearest to me.
Every Ramadan, I keep coming back to a meditation titled Preparing for the Gaze of God: Setting Others Free in Order to Be Set Free, written by Hamdi Ben Aissa and Shehnaz Karim, that seeks liberation from accusations we may be holding against anyone, including our parents, partners, children, and ancestors. I hope to meditate on it every night of Ramadan and leave you with its concluding words:
“I honor the sacredness in you, my loved ones, and fellow human beings to whom I say: ‘May you be free. May we set each other free. May we see each other beautiful this month, may we find joy as we witness each other grow and glow.’”
Sidra Mahmood is the College’s Muslim Chaplain.
