Chapter 2. Taking the leap of Faith

The following Thursday, after taking a bath at my friend’s house, heart in my mouth, I parked my rusty gold Maestro outside the imposing Victorian church; now the local Sufi centre. As I pushed open the heavy studded doors, the smell of incense and polished parquet floors flooded my senses. I didn’t know what to expect; certainly not the carpeted hall I entered. The men, dressed in white robes and wearing the same little pointed green hats I had seen Dahood wearing, smiled and raised their hands in friendly waves; the women; some wearing colourful dresses and scarves ties behind their necks came across with warm greetings. We sat on the carpet. The imam, a brother I believe called Noah, sat cross legged in front of me.

‘So, you want to be a Muslim?’ He had the same soft voice as the other brothers.

I nodded silently, feeling awkward and out of my depth.

He patiently explained the process of becoming Muslim; having the belief in Allah, the One God; following the five pillars and believing in the six articles of faith.

Then it was time to repeat the declaration of faith – what was in my heart already I would now share with the world – my hands shook with anticipation as I repeated:

“Ash Hadu an la ilaha IlAllah, wa ash hadu anna Muhammed ArasulAllah.” (I bear witness that there is no God but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammed is the Messenger of Allah).

The words were foreign; alien, but even though my English tongue struggled; I felt a light flood my soul and tranquillity enter my body. I had been gifted a new start in life. All previous sins wiped away.  Noah smiled as a chorus of congratulations and hugs flooded the hall. “What will your Muslim name be?” He enquired.

I shrugged, unsure what to answer. I didn’t really know what Muslim names were but I knew that my original name, Dorinda, sounded very much like a Hindu name. I had never really liked the name. Kids at school had bullied me because it was unusual.

“How about Ameena?” suggested Noah thoughtfully. “ She was the Mother of our beloved Prophet (saw) and it means trustworthy.

So I agreed, and on that day, Dorinda became Ameena and my new life began.

A couple of days later, I knocked at my parent’s door with one thing on my mind. To tell them I became Muslim.

Food for thought 

New Muslims are often encouraged and even sometimes pressured by others to change their names as their ‘old’ names are deemed as ‘kafir’ or ‘jahilleyah’. What it’s important to consider  is that the companions did not generally change their names on becoming Muslim even though they often came from backgrounds of idol worshipping. Although it can help new Muslims to establish their new identity, it’s important to remember that by changing names, this can cause non Muslim families a lot of pain. When parents name their most precious thing in life, their new baby, it is with love and affection; a gift which if changed can cause huge pain to parents who often feel rejected. It also makes Islam feel much less foreign  for non Muslims if names sound familiar – my sir name has raised so many good da’wa conversations –

What are your thoughts on this subject?

Did your name change cause hurt for your family or do you get pressured into changing it?