Culture and questions of wants, needs, love, honor and respect have been dominating my thoughts. So, the other day I needed to relax.
I walked out of my house with no bag, papers, or an umbrella. It rained all day but I still decided to rock sandals. I headed to the mosque for Friday prayers. After praying I engaged in a classic debate with some of the brothers outside the bakery about the level of engagement that Muslims should play in politics and society. Afterwards I ran an errand and went to my favorite coffee shop to chill and literally do nothing. I sat there not thinking, not moving, barely breathing until I received a text from another friend who asked me if I was going to some esoteric hip hop book opening. I shrugged my shoulders and headed to DUMBO to check that out. It turned out that the evening was a lovely one. Great conversation, lovely food, and engaging personalities.
Then came Saturday. I did another lazy early part of the day. Sitting around the house, cleaning, pondering, poking around my empty kitchen. Then my sisters, and mother texted me to go to the BAM Muslim Voices festival. I got on the bus and went there. it was a lovely day strolling with my family, feeling the Brooklyn Bedouin vibes. I strolled up to fulton, sat outside with some of the brothers selling shirts, chatting about nothing in particular, looking at beautiful women walking by and getting my one good glance in before it got all “nafsy” and generally enjoying myself. I ran into a few ladies i kinda know and squatted on the corner with them until we collectively decided to walk up to the Brooklyn Museum. I led the way through my old hood, talked about the changes in Brooklyn, the differences from the Bay Area to here and generally enjoyed myself. At the last second I bailed on going to the city to Bembe and jumped back to the hood where I strolled a little while longer, ran into more lovely people, and then jumped on the B26 bus to home.
The moral of this tale is about Culture. I am a black American Muslim from NYC but raised upstate as well. I played football at a predominately white New England University where I excelled on and off the field. I love art and music and sports, and I like all different types of people. Culturally you can place me in a number of boxes but I simply do not fit in them. AS a friend told me this morning; I am a Martian. Me and Lil’ Wayne. Martians to the end.
Culturally I wonder… I asked my self that question in a manner like this: where do I feel uniquely comfortable. Not where do I “fit in” because those are totally different. I fit in in many places for many different reasons. But where do I actually settle in, relax, and feel like I can be my true an authentic self.
I was told today by another friend that I need to listen to my intuition more and be honest with myself and those affected by me. That was a generous piece of advice from a woman that has every right to be unhappy with me and I was thankful because it dovetails nicely with the overall question of me being able to be my total self, to manage those expectations with the way that I interact with the world, and to be simple and plain with people. I will not make everyone happy, nor will I actually fit in in MOST settings. In fact, my disdain for alcohol and car culture make me very much anti-most people’s culture.
My culture is a hybrid of faith, art, and convenience. I see people when I see them. I am a pedestrian. I move about the world in a wandering adventurer sort of way. I love to tell stories and I love sharing meals with beautiful people that love to tell stories.
Another older brother type buddy told me this about successful relationships. He said that people tend to agree to disagree. I think I found this once, and the sweetest spot of a badly constructed relationship came after we had exhausted all of our will to physically disagree. We came to a consensus of calm. I exited at that moment because it seemed to be the best way. I determined that being of my culture, the ibrahim-style, that martian existence that I inhabit, excluded me from engaging any further – what I also realized that I am very difficult to be with, difficult to please, and will consistently let people down. Those realizations are hard to ingest. Hard to swallow. Difficult to pass. I am still mulling over what It means to be a martian now. How am I to be on this planet when it seems as though I simply do not belong. And what person or people will want to walk this seemingly endless and directionless path that I am on?
The most amazing things happen to me when I am staunchly present. Stubbornly un-determined. My intuition, it seems, is the strongest thing I have. The next internal conversation is now afoot alongside this one. This one pits the things that I want vs the things that I need. Wants Vs. Needs. I am no longer interested in what I want. I am keenly interested in what I need. If I defined culture as the spaces where I am uniquely comfortable, then what do I need to be comfortable?
Comments