I love Islam and cream soda

While locked down fighting (and beating) a frame-up, I read books and did pull-ups... Here's what I polished off in 10 months (Feb-Dec '18) *disclaimer, I absolutely did indeed read every title listed. Aries Decision (Ludlum/Mills) White Rage (Carol Anderson)  must read! Black Pain (T. Williams) Rules of Betrayal Naughtier Than Nice Anthology of American Poetry (Rita Dove) Aces High

“You need to protect those girls.” These were some of the first words my Sister told me after I had gotten married (for the first time) – words about my new stepdaughters that rang out to me very loud. Very clear. My first marriage occurred while I was still serving time for a robbery I committed at 19. I was 25 and Muslim and despite my circumstance (and very much because of my spiritual transformation) I had been lucky/blessed enough to snag a gorgeous, devout, and intelligent woman who took an interest and liking to me. My wife had been a friend of a friend – a blind Pen Pal hook-up that quickly blossomed into matrimony. Maybe too fast – because not long after I got a cautionary letter about my new nuptials.  Among a couple red flags waved at my marriage was this: my wife’s ex-husband was a suspected child molester.

In 2000, Shwayyah got married for the first time, to a young brother from Egypt named Mohammed. The backdrop of this event saw me and her mother Asiyah going thru a brief separation, one that extended to my relationship with Shwayyah as well. In the meantime, Mohammed approached some of the brothers in my mosque, inquiring about marriage to any available sisters - they brought up Shway for consideration and one of the brothers in a leadership role, Mikal, stepped into the role as her wali (representative), a role that was mine traditionally but for my absence... Asiyah and I reconciled as Shway's marriage entered its final stages of confirmation - the signing of the marriage contract. It was a poignant time because one of the things that drove our separation was us battling over my role as head of household and as a father and stepfather. My marriage to Asiyah was my first, but her third, and it came after a long period where she was a single divorcée of 4 kids and, I felt, us...

Originally published in the Denver Post, July 12, 2006 "Something's not right with him," I told his mother... My stepson, Meeka'eel, was 2 years old. He cried so incessantly that we couldn't help but think it was a substitute for talking. He would stare into space but never look anyone in the face. In the middle of the night, he would either giggle to himself or shriek loudly for hours. When he was 3, our suspicions were confirmed when Meek was diagnosed with autism. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, one in every 166 children born in the U.S. is, like our son, confined to a mysterious world marked by abnormal interaction and behavior. That was 10 years ago. In that time, we have watched Meek struggle and grow into an uncertain future. As a toddler, he'd never eat right and couldn't master toilet training. Early on, we were fortunate enough to enroll him in a program at University Hospital that studied childhood disorders. Bu...

I imagine that at some point in the life of every devout person, they confront a crises of faith. In Islamic tradition, Moses dealt with his by asking God to show Himself to him – a foolish request for sure, but his insistence and reasoning (to strengthen his heart/faith) underscore how deep this conflict ran for him. Muhammad had a similar crisis when there was a pause in revelation that caused him intense self-doubt and made him fear that God was disappointed in him for some reason unbeknownst to him. Personally, I’d like to think of myself as adamant in my belief that God exists and that my life should reflect this belief – in this I think I am stayed pretty clear and consistent – BUT, there have been many moments that this certainty has been tested and met with despair and desperation. Exhibit A would be my most recent 90 day stint in the joint. To be brief, I had returned this past October thru January for a “turnaround” for a technical violation of parole after a hearing pr...

As a Muslim, when I pray, it is usually at a quiet place for the sake of focus and solace. On Saturday, February 4 th , I prayed in a place in Denver where I experienced the most powerful silence in my life. It is hard to imagine the moment occurring on a blustery afternoon in the midst of nearly Thousands, observing the prayer 10,000 people gathered in protest and support – protest against the current administration and support for the local Muslim community. The event was (aptly named) “Support Our Muslim Neighbors”, held at the Civic Center Park, and organized by several local activists led by Queen Phoenix and Nadeen Ibrahim. I was immediately impressed as I walked into the park, coming across about 7-8 thousand people but to be honest, my first impression, despite the many signs of support for Muslims and lambasting Trump’s ban, was that most were gathered moreso to protest Trump than to support Muslims. I wondered to myself as I wove through the crowd how many ...

I am going to talk I've been back to prison for parole revocations twice now, because I was upfront, vocal, and honest about why I first went to prison in 2013. Simply put, I went because my ex-wife Dominique made false claims of domestic violence against me. Claims that began falling apart as my case progressed. However, in the middle of my marital turmoil, I made attempts at reconciling with Dominique, despite the fact of being barred from interacting with her by automatic protection order. That love-blind decision came back to bite my behind when, as her hoax began to unravel, the DA salvaged her prosecution by filling 19 cases of misdemeanor violation of protection order. I was literally facing an unprecedented 19 years in the county jail. It seemed improbable, if not absurd, until another local defendant made news being sentenced to an unprecedented county jail sentence of over 10 years. Long story short, I took a deal for an "open" sentence, expecting proba...