I met K while hiking along a cliff in Fiji. Our eyes met over the jagged shoreline and instantly we knew this was it. Two years of committed dating later in which we frequented live shows, spoke for hours on the meaning of life in various coffee shops and flew to Italy to determine our travel compatibility, we married under a hut on the island of Lanai. It was just the two of us, and it was beautiful and it made me complete.
It’s also mostly false.
I met my husband in a way different than most, a way that prompted some friends to offer to help me plot my escape, and left me tongue-tied when coworkers or colleagues asked how this girl met that boy. I often evaded, mostly generalized, and told few the truth but as my marriage grows I feel less timid and more sure of my story, more free to lay open that vulnerable piece of me for the world to see and to think of it what they will.
Which I now am. In a book. Love Insh’Allah: The Secret Love Lives of American Muslim Women published by Softskull Press is hitting bookshelves nationwide January 24, 2012 but available for pre-order here and delivered to you by release day.
The editors of the book told me my story made them cry. Early readers told me it gave them hope. I don’t know what my story will mean to you, or the story of the 24 other brave and beautiful women whose stories will touch you, shock you [oh yes, some will definitely shock you], make you laugh, and quite possibly make you cry, but I know in this book, in my story, I spoke my truth, and while I didn’t meet my husband in a sweeping grand romantic way, I met him. And therein is what gave my Fiji story it’s fundamental grain of truth: a girl met a boy. And through a marriage of upheavals, and loss, and trials, and tests, I found beauty, joy, and love, so much love that completed me in a way I never thought possible. Alhamdullilah.
Thank you, a million times over, for your support.