There are maybe like 5 people that keep me on twitter. Probably more like two. Boxing writer Dougie Fischer and a young sage soul sister out of Chicago if you don ‘t include some young St. Louis journalists I like. My old Twitter had 500 or 600 followers. My new one (@STLAbuBadu) I can’t seem to pick up steam. So, I basically just use it to talk shit about my passengers, rant and follow boxing news.
So the sister gave me an idea. I told her I don’t go to jummah anymore. I aint gonna lie. I don’t answer my phone during jummah and I don’t engage in social media. People think im at jummah. I say I was. But I aint at jummah. If I do go it is to meet a brother.
Why? You may ask. You know and I know the imam ( or whoever they let give the khutbah) aint talking about shit. With all the problems in our lives, all the pain, all the social problems in our society, all the wars and the imam talking about some irrelevant b******* or quoting some medieval scholar. If the imam even speaks English. Half the congregation is fighting off sleep. The other half thinking about paying the bills or what they want for lunch. seldom do you get a good khutbah. Now if you are blessed to live in Brooklyn, Philly, North Jersey, DC, ATL, the Chi or the Bay you may have some good options. other than that you’re pretty much f*****. In St. Louis im better off talking to myself or listening to a YouTube lecture. Or reading a book. that has to be more beneficial then going to a place where half the people hate each other and the imam uses the khutbah to talk s*** about his enemies. Or you are told it’s hopeless and you are going to hell!
So, the sister said, why not just have jummah at your house? Invite four or five brothers?
I think it’s a brilliant idea. Not just for me. Not just for brothers. for anyone left out. Anyone not being served by the community.
Brother coming from the streets who need love and support. Instead of some FOB or Madkhali masjid giving you the latest from the KSA why not just invite a few brothers over going through the same struggle and have jummah in your living room?
The young Muslim brother who grew up here whose parents came from Egypt or Pakistan who is not feeling the uncle’s khutbahs. they not even addressing whats real to him. Just have the brothers over for jummah.
The sisters who don’t wanna be shoved into a basement or closet by some imam or administration talking about women’s rights and yet they are told to be unseen unheard. Why not have the sisters over for jummah? Why does some man who doesn’t know your struggle have to be preaching to you?
you don’t need buildings, budgets, boards and bureaucracy. You just need a living room or a basement. you are the community.
Somewhere to go without all the hypocricy. Somewhere you don’t have to lie. You have a girlfriend or boyfriend. OK, let’s talk about it. Bring them too. You like to smoke. Pass it to the right. You saw an interesting documentary. Let’s watch it together. How do I reconcile deen with secular knowledge and modern society? Who knows: but lets discuss. You hate Obama, love Obama, want revolution, in the damn Tea Party, that’s cool.
Are our masjids open like this? Our sisters, on balance, are smarter, better read and have more to offer. Yet their voices are not heard. A sister steps in the dunya and has a boyfriend, a phase, a love, a whatever, she is done in the community. Allah can forgive. The community won’t. They always worried about some girls p**** and what she doing with it. Worry about your own damn p****? They act like it’s a loaf of bread with an expiration date. Most of these niqaabied or supersunnah sisters not really about that life anyway. The shit just hidden. A lifestyle of sexual hypocricy. Oh brother estafurallah I bumped into you. Oh, my niqaab slipped, you saw my nose can you control yourself? And she textin the imam nude pix dying to be his deuce. Not all. Not a few.
The brothers f****** everything that walks Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Zorastian, Caucasian heathens then go hysterical when a sister not wearing “proper” hijab. let’s just meet together. talk with one another. be real. you like girls, you have girlfriends, but you really wanna be a good Muslim family man. You want love. Nobody ever showed you how to love or what family is. We in the boat together let’s talk about it together. You think the imam married to his cousin has something to offer to this conversation?
You don’t pray, you drink, you can’t f****** stand your mother, you are s*** as a father, but you have to lie about all these things at the masjid. Just say mashaallah, alhamdulilah, yeah yeah. Naw akh, let’s talk real. You got HIV we can talk….you aint seen your kids in years we can talk….you high? Still come. addicted to video games. addicted to pornography. Don’t come to lie. Don’t come and tell me you don’t listen to music. You don’t know who Jay-Z is. Come and be real. Come and tell me the feds are f****** with you because you are Muslim. That you are black and don’t wanna be treated like an abd. That you are white and don’t wanna be a mascot. That you a Desi but don’t know s*** about Pakistan. That,when you were young and dumb you thought of blowing yourself up. That you went to ISNA and were bored by the lectures but fiended for the Desi girls. That you dropped a body years ago and it still stares at you in your sleep. That you feel death is near. That you don’t make plans because you don’t plan to live. That the jones is too sweet. That you cry in your car to sad songs. That sometimes you felt more at peace in prison. That you drank 40 ounces, smoked one more and then read 40 hadith. That you love Rasulullah but you love Nietzsche. Or Kafka. or brother George Jackson. Or Howard Zinn. Or Russell Kirk. Or Ayn Rand. Or Pac. That you think like Lupe but act like Beanie. That you wish Ramadan was all year. That you love oud and the smell of the masjid but hard to stay on deen poppin codeine. Got Allah to thank but high off the purple drank. The Sunnah smell sweet like a rose but the browngirl going up your nose. That you came to the masjid to be close to Allah and got further away. That you don’t have the answers. We don’t either. It’s an idea. maybe your living room. maybe mine. maybe under a tree. maybe at the beach. maybe at a park. maybe we can just talk……