Reality Check

It was time to make a decision, but I couldn't. For nearly an hour I'd been thinking about it. I'd narrowed it down to two options but was still stuck. So I dialed my hubby's cell to ask for his assistance.

"Asalaam alaikum honey, how are you you?"

"Walaikum salaam baby, I'm good. And you?"

"Oh I'm fine. Listen, I have something important to figure out and I need your help".

"Of course, what's going on?"

"Okay, here's the question", I said,"Leopard print or blue?"

"Um, excuse me honey, can you explain?"

"Well I'm trying to decide which scarf to wear to the lecture and I can't pick one so I need you to do it".

"OH", he laughs,"Definitely the blue one, it's very pretty".

"Wonderful, thanks for your help baby! I'm going to finish getting ready now but will call you back. I love you, asalaam alaikum".

So I got off the phone and finished getting ready. Now that I knew what I planned to wear it didn't take long. I put on my abaya(shoutout to EastEssence.com), solid underscarf to cover my hair thoroughly and a lace underscarf for decoration. I wrapped my khimar tightly around my head-but wait! I hadn't decided which hijab pin to wear. I dug through the small satchel I keep my hijab pins in & removed two. It was between the ceramic white flower pin & the rhinestone studded star pin...

Then it hit me. What on earth was I doing? What had I turned into?

You see I started wearing hijab one week before I took my shahada. When I first went out in hijab, it was purely about modesty and obeying Allah,subhana wa'taala. It was about identifying myself as a muslimah. When I got dressed to go out all I did was grab a khimar that was clean and matched my outfit for the day. Then I discovered all of the accessories-underscarves and hijab pins. Over time wearing hijab became more about trying to look cute and be perfectly coordinated. So as I stared at my reflection with the two hijab pins in my hand, I felt a profound sense of shame and guilt. I knew that it was time for me to check myself. I had to purify my intentions regarding my observation of hijab. I had to focus on modesty. So the next day when I got dressed, I simply pulled out an abaya and wore the matching khimar that came with it. I will stop putting so much unnecessary time into deciding what to wear and remember that I'm dressing this way for Allah and Allah alone.

1.57 Billion Strong?

It is often noted that the Umma is 1.57 billion strong. Alhamdulilah, our numbers are increasing every day. When I hear this number I am initially filled with joy and pride. However when I reflect on it, I’m saddened and frustrated. There are 1.57 billion of us-but look at the condition of the Umma. Look at all the infighting and division among us. Look at the state of some Muslim nations. Look at the situation in lands where we are a minority. Something is not right here.

We worship the one true God, Allah, subhana wa’taala.

We have the perfect religion, Islam.

We have the perfect example in the Prophet Mohammed, peace and blessings be upon him.

So, where did we go wrong? For the error cannot be in the Holy Quran, the Sunnah or the Hadiths. No, it must be within us. I try to imagine what the Umma would look like if we were all on our deen. I know that such a thing is probably unrealistic and too much to ask for. So I adjust the number downward. What if we had 500 million Muslims who were on their deen like the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, was? 500 million Muslims who…

Feared Allah as the Prophet feared,

Prayed like the Prophet prayed,

Loved each other for the sake of Allah the way the Prophet loved,

Walked in humility as the Prophet walked,

Rejected racism and tribalism as the Prophet rejected them,

Showed mercy as the Prophet showed mercy,

Sought justice as the Prophet sought justice, and finally,

Remained faithful to Islam as the Prophet remained faithful to Islam at all times.

It is frankly hard for me to picture this. But, Subhanallah, I truly believe that the Umma, and the world itself, would be turned upside down if this were to happen! The enemies of Islam seem to recognize the power and potential strength of the Umma. When will we Muslims do the same?

Perfect Faith, Imperfect Followers

I love Islam. I reverted to Islam three months ago and I wouldn’t trade Islam for anything. There are those who say that my faith is in need of a “Reformation”, that Islam needs to adapt to the modern secular world and that we need to change how we interpret the Quran. I vehemently reject such thinking. As far as I am concerned, Islam is the perfect religion. The Holy Quran is flawless and the Hadiths and Sunnah show us how to correctly live our lives.
With that said, the Umma is not perfect. As a revert to Islam I experience this on a regular basis. I like attending Ju’mah whenever I can. Unfortunately it is on this very day that I face un-Islamic behavior from my brothers and sisters. Last week I was walking to the masjid. A Muslim family, going to the exact same masjid that I was, just glared at me when I gave them the salaams. Frankly this happens often and I try not to be hurt by it. But the fact that we were all going to the same masjid for the same purpose made their behavior all the more upsetting. They were following our faith, going to listen to the khutbah and pray. Yet they would treat a sister in faith this way and disregard what the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, stated about spreading the Islamic greeting? We Muslims were not told to only give the greetings to Muslims that shared our complexion or national origin.
Today there was another disappointing incident. I bring my six-year old daughter with me whenever I attend the masjid. Upon entering the masjid I went to the ladies room to make sure my scarf was in place. A friend that came with me took my daughter upstairs so they could get a good seat. Imagine my surprise when, after the khutbah and salah, my friend informed me that a group of sisters were gossiping and backbiting about my child! Apparently the fact that my daughter was wearing an orange hijab was cause for these sisters to make disparaging comments about her. I tell you this, Allah truly knows best! Astagfirullah, if I had been there to witness this myself I don’t think I could have remained silent. It hurts me to find that sisters will behave this way in the masjid, and towards an innocent child at that!
I could go and on sharing stories of ill-treatment by fellow Muslims, but I won’t. The tragic thing about all of this is that it can and often does drive people away from Islam. There are reverts who cease to be active in the community, leaving Islam and never coming back. For my fellow reverts experiencing this hostility and indifference: focus on Allah, subhana wa’taala, and worship Him in sincerity. For on the Day of Recompense, Allah is the one that you must face! Always remember the example set by the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, and strive to follow it no matter what. Do not let the shortcomings of others distract you. Don’t let the imperfections of people take you away from the perfect religion: Islam.

The Backlash...

November 4th, 2008 was a momentous night for me. Though Candidate Obama gave lovely speeches, I didn't share his ideals and did not vote for him. However by about 7pm, it was clear that Barack Obama was going to be the 44th President of the United States of America. This left me feeling very conflicted. I couldn't help but feel a bit euphoric. I've never been one of those Black Conservatives that denies their heritage and pretends America is happily colorblind. I knew that Obama's election was a watershed moment that could not be denied. I reflected on my Grandma's stories of growing up under Jim Crow. I thought of my Mom's story of her first trip to Mississippi in 1968, an experience that disturbed her so much that she never set foot in that state again. And I wished that they had lived long enough to see that night, for I know they would have shed tears of joy.

On the other hand, I wondered what it would mean for the country. It was apparent that we were on the edge of a huge paradigm shift. But it was done. Obama won the election fair and square, so there was no need to sit around being a sore loser. I would respect him as my Commander-In-Chief and life would go on. I also hoped the Conservatives would handle the loss with grace and dignity, showing a clear difference to the bratty disrespectful behavior of the Left during the Bush years(this hope would eventually be extinguished, but more on that later).

2009 rolled in, and stories began to leak that gun and ammunition sales had skyrocketed since the election. I understood that people had the right, but it spooked me. I wondered why these people felt the need to stockpile weapons. More importantly, I wondered who they planned on using these weapons against. Then came the vicious pictures and comments about the President and First Lady-or I should say the vicious pictures and comments CONTINUED. It disgusted me that the same people that objected to the previous President being disrespected had no problem doing it to Obama. The same people who always came to the defense of Laura Bush gleefully compared Michelle Obama to an ape and posted photoshopped pictures of her. Of course none of this had ANYTHING to do with the fact that the First Couple is black. Oh no, these so-called decent Americans were just expressing their disagreement with President Obama's politics. If you dared to point out the racially offensive activity, you were just obsessed with race and a bigot yourself.

Then came healthcare reform in the summer and all the drama that went along with it. Obama was destroying America and content on making all of us his socialist slaves! Obama was the Anti-Christ bent on world domination and subverting American sovereignty! At this point I made a conscious decision to stop watching tv and stop following politics for a minute. The weirdness was just too much to deal with.

Finally we get into 2010 and the healthcare bill is passed. Listening to fellow Republicans, I thought I had walked into an alternate universe. "We" had lost "our country" for good now. "They" had destroyed the promise of the United States and we were now as oppressed as citizens of the former USSR had been. "We" needed to protect ourselves against the onslaught of the evil federal government. "We" needed to form militias and take up arms(Huttaree militia anyone?). I kept hearing and seeing such sentiments and I couldn't help but think these people had lost their minds.

I have come to the conclusion that America really was not ready to elect Obama. I am not saying that the increased extremism and hatred is his fault. But the change of having a minority in office was just too much for the feeble-minded to handle. These people truly have come to believe that they are somehow oppressed and under attack. The change that this country has gone through since Election Night now makes me glad my Mom and Grandma are not here. Had they lived to see their nation return to such hatred and polarization, it would have broken their hearts as it is breaking mine.

For The Sake of Allah...

As a new revert, we often have to change our lifestyle and give up certain things for the sake of Allah. The first thing that I let go of was the old way of dress. I immediately started wearing hijab-a week before I took my shahadah actually-and didn't have a problem doing it. But when it came to my nails-there was a slight struggle. You see I have an inner "hood chick", so I love bright nail polish and usually wore long acrylic nails. I learned pretty quick that nail polish prevents one from making wudu(which in turn keeps one from being able to make salat). So I told myself-"Okay D, no color but you can still have nude acrylics..."-incorrect! Acrylics get in the way of wudu as well(which as a pre-nursing student I should have remembered anyways). So last Thursday I went to Target to buy household and beauty items. While browsing the aisle for a jar of acrylic nail remover, a bottle of OPI nail polish caught my eye. It was a lovely shade of pink and I immediately thought of how hot the color would look on my hands and feet, and I sighed to myself. I resisted though and took the nails off.Funny though, because once they were gone, I didn't even miss them!

"Love and marriage, love and marriage..."

It's been approximately twenty three days since I took my shahadah and the m word is already coming up. Now don't get me wrong; I have nothing against the institution of marriage at all. I also understand that in Islam it's very crucial. Marriage is half of our deen, and I do look forward to being a wife and having a husband. But with that said, some of the pressure regarding the issue is a bit much for me as a new convert. I'd really like to have a thorough understanding of my rights and responsibilities as a muslim wife before I become one. I have done research on the subject and it's an ongoing process. I just don't want to rush into a marriage or treat it casually. I also have some minor emotional baggage that I need to clear first. When I marry I don't want it to resemble my experiences during my time of jahiliyya in ANY way. I truly want everything to be guided by Allah and expect the process to be guided by Islamic principles 100%.

"I Won't Complain!"

Okay I have a confession to make. Lately I've been in a bit of a pity pool. Dealing with the sheer ignorance of people regarding Islam has working my nerves. But then I came across this brother's testimony and I felt so humbled! This brother was tested and lost so much. Yet he does not complain and remained strong in his deen. The deceiver may attempt to sway us from the path but TRULY ALLAH IS GREATER! Alhamdulillah!

"Only Allah Can Judge Me"

Since converting to Islam, I've been asked if I plan on changing my name. I might add to or change my middle name, but my first name is off limits. For when I look at my life and where it has taken me, "Danielle" seems more appropriate than ever. I think of the day my parents chose it for me. My father has told me that they picked it out six years before I was even born. In my mind I think of them as they were, sophomores in high school, and wonder if they could have known what significance their decision would have when I was twenty-nine years old. You see Danielle is the feminine form of Daniel. Daniel is Hebrew for:"God is my judge ". As my faith is tested and I strive to submit to Allah, I think of my name and what it means.

When people tell me I'm a fool and I've converted to an "oppressive violent religion that hates women", I remind myself that only Allah can judge me...

When people around remind of the things I used to do in my state of jahiliya and mock me for submitting to Allah now, I remind myself that only Allah can judge me...

When people tell me I will fail in my faith, that it's "just a fad" and I'll leave Islam in a year or two, I remind myself that only Allah can judge me...

When people suggest that I be lackadaisical in my deen and I'm wrong for focusing on it, I remind myself that only Allah can judge me...

When people tell me to put aside the commands of the Quran to gain temporary comfort, I remind myself that only Allah can judge me...

My time on this earth is short. Eternity, on the other hand, has no end. After death an account must be given and when the Day comes ALLAH-not the mockers, the naysayers or the haters- will judge me. It is this fact that I will not lose sight of.

Pink Power

So I'm sitting here wrapped up in my coat, thinking of how this evening did not go as planned. A friend sent me a link on FB earlier this week, inviting me to an Islamic spoken word event. I was so excited about going. I made arrangements for a babysitter days ago and went there straight from work. I expected to truly enjoy myself. After all, I'm an artsy/literary type. Though I haven't written a poem in years or done much writing at all, I felt it was time to get that particular "swag back. This spoken word event seemed like it could be the best of both worlds. I could meet and network with other Muslims and hear poetry in a halal environment, and eat Eritrean food. Could it possibly get any better than that?

Of course that's not what happened. I arrived right at the beginning. Maybe being punctual was a mistake-who know. But the vibe there was very 'cliqueish' and closed. I don't know if everyone there attended the same masjid or knew each other from previous events. Either way it felt like they had their own social circle, and Muslim or not, others were not getting in.I stayed for about fifteen minutes, looked at my horrid nails and decided this child-free time would be better spent at the nail shop. So I grabbed my bag and left.

It had been a month since I had my latest full set put on, so I was in desperate need of a fill. I wouldn't be able to make it to my regular nail shop by the time they closed, so I stopped at another instead. I always feel a twinge of guilt when I don't go to my regular nail shop. However this time I was glad that I tried a different nail salon. The nail tech that did my fill was the truth! She made no errors with and kept control of her drill. She didn't even nick me once! I had selected a very pale, iridescent shade for my nails. But while she was putting the final touches on my fill, I saw a lovely hot pink that I had to have. I grabbed the bottle on my way back from washing my hands and ditched the pale shade. I was very pleased with the result; the vibrant pink made deep brown skin glow even more. As I watched my nails draw under the UV light, I reflected on the sad fact that I used to avoid pink and all bright colors. I never wore pink at all until I was 25 years old. You see as a child I had been told that dark-skinned people were not supposed to wear pink or anything bright. Bright colors would just call attention to the color that we supposedly had the misfortune to be born with. Well the folks that told me that were VERY wrong. If anything, certain shades make dark brown skin glow! So now, pink is my favorite color. You can find a diverse array of pink in my makeup case and in my closet. Eyeshadow,lipstick, shoes, hijab-if it comes in pink, I've got it. I'm a firm believer in pink power!

From Christianity to Islam

Inspired by another sister’s blog, I wanted to share the story of my journey to Islam. I had been raised to be Christian. Though my Mom was not a member of a church when
I was a child, she made sure that I was and would send me to Sunday School on
occasion. When I was nine years old, she briefly studied with the Jehovah’s
Witnesses. I didn’t like their services-they were very different from the
lively, dramatic worship that I experienced when I visited my Grandma’s church
in Seattle. However when we moved to Seattle the next year, my Mom totally
stopped
associating with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. My Mom’s family was 100% Baptist and
no other belief was going to be tolerated by my Grandma. Once in Seattle, my
Grandma took a stronger role in my life and as a result, church took a major
role. At the end of each sermon, the invitation to discipleship was extended.
One Sunday, my Grandma urged me to go up front, give my life to Isa and be
baptized. Now I don’t knock my Grandma for this; I understand that she was just
doing what she had been raised to do. I had been raised to love and not
question my elders, so I went up as instructed. The pastor asked me a number of
questions:

“Do you believe in Jesus?”

“Do you believe He died for your sins?”

“Do you believe God raised Him up on the third day?”

I responded yes to every question and was scheduled to be baptized. I was ten years old. On the appointed day the pastor asked me those same questions and I
was baptized. I was told that being baptized meant I was “born again” and was a
new person. The only difference to me was that my clothes were now soaking wet!
I didn’t fully understand the concept of the trinity. I had doubts about my own
salvation-how did it really work? How could one really know what was true? But
asking questions was discouraged; as Christians we were supposed to go by faith
alone and not seek evidence. After my baptism I was a full member of the
church.
I settled into the routine –Sunday School and morning worship on Sundays, Bible
Study on Wednesdays, Choir rehearsal on Saturdays and endless Pastor/church
“anniversaries”
on the other weekdays. The pastor/church anniversaries in particular really
bothered me, because they seemed to be self-congratulatory and didn’t
strengthen people in their faith. Many of the sermons disappointed me as well,
for they gave little to no guidance on how to live one’s daily life.

One day in 1991 I was at my best friend’s house. An avid reader, I looked through her mother’s bookshelf for something to read. I came across The Autobiography
of Malcolm X. Before this day, I had never heard of him. The introduction
intrigued
me, so I decided to read it. We had that day off from school and met up with
other students to hang out. But I took that book with me and every time I sat
down I read it. I was enthralled! His life was so fascinating and the knowledge
in the book itself was so new to me. I finished it that night. I read it again
the next day. I could understand Malcolm’s journey and admired his courage in
following the truth, even when it involved major sacrifice on his part. His
evolution from the NOI to Islam and his account of his Hajj was so uplifting
and left a huge impression.

The Autobiography of Malcolm X opened up a whole new world for me. It made me conscious of the African Diaspora. But most importantly, it introduced me to a
faith I hadn’t heard of before: Islam. Ashamed of my utter ignorance on both
subjects, I made it a point to study them. By the time I was twelve years old,
I believed
that Islam was the true faith and wanted to become one. To put it plainly,
Islam
made sense to me. Yet everyone around me told me that Christianity was the only
way; there was no salvation outside of the Church. Anyone who believed
differently would spend eternity in torment.

Between the fear of eternal torment if my family was right and my fear of what would happen in the present if I left the Church, I kept my feelings to myself. I
didn’t want to disappoint my family and become estranged from them. But the
pull to Islam and the lingering doubts about Christian doctrine never went
away. When I was 19, I left the church I had been raised, disillusioned with
some of the things I had seen. I joined another church, only to leave it nine
months later. At that point I decided I didn’t want to bother with church and
following any rules at all. I was now 20. In the arrogance of my youth, I
thought I knew best and thought I could make my own code to live by. I stopped
attending church devoutly-except for special occasions to make my Mom and
Grandma happy, or when I was going through a crisis of my own. Even though I
had questions regarding
doctrine, I believed in the existence of God. There was no way all of this
could exist by coincidence! I also believed that there was life after death.
But thinking I’d always have “time” to get it right later, I didn’t focus on
submitting to God. I did whatever I deemed to be right in my own eyes. In
February 2010 something happened that made me pump my brakes and slow down.
When I tell people this they think I’m insane. But I heard Allah speak to me.
He told me that I was not living as good or as righteous as I thought I was,
and that I needed to submit. At first I did not want to hear this message. I
had gotten so used to thinking of myself as “good” by my own standards. But
deep
down I knew there was no way I could argue with Allah. So I did the one thing I
remembered from my youth: I prayed. I sincerely asked Allah for guidance-what
should I do and how should I go about submitting to Him and being a virtuous
woman? The answer came to me in one word:”Islam”.
I knew what I needed to do; I had to convert. I contacted a sister that I knew
from high school to talk with her about Islam and my intentions. She was very
supportive and gave me lots of information. Before I took my Shahadah I started
making
changes in my life. The immodest clothing had to go. When I was offered alcohol
I didn’t even want it. When I began to share my intentions with family and
friends, they were surprised and upset with me. But I knew what Allah was
calling me to do and I had to submit to Allah first. On Sunday, April 4^th,
2010 I took my Shahadah. Publicly stating my faith in and allegiance to
Allah…words
can’t really convey what it meant. I’m
grateful that Allah showed me the truth of Islam and that I am finally
following it.

Hurtful Words

"Sometimes someone can say something to you that hurts so much, you wish they would have just hit you instead!"

One of my older aunties, who was also my Sunday School teacher,used to say that. It didn't make sense to me at the time but it does now. There are two particular incidents where words that someone uttered deeply wounded me. I mean to the point that you feel like your very soul has been cut. At least with a slap/blow/kick/pinch, et., the pain subsides after a few minutes(provided you aren't being attacked). But when someone says something those words echo and echo in your mind, and it can be hard to get it out.

Breaking News

I took my shahada today and have officially reverted to Islam. I am so thankful to Allah for showing me the true faith and I'm full of excitement. This day will stay with me for as long as I live. Inshallah, I'll continue to grow in my faith and knowledge and be a good Muslim woman.

Inspiration

I came across the following quote on the 'I Love Allah' page on Facebook. It made my day so I must share it with others:

"When you feel like you need to GIVE UP some bad habit - Remember that RasulAllah [SallAllahu Alayhi WaSallam] said: “You will never give up a thing for the sake of Allah, may He be glorified and exalted, but Allah will replace it for you with something that is better for you than it.” (Ahmad Hadith No. 22565; classed as saheeh by al-Albaani)"

In Other News...

Okay, I think I've vented enough for one night. It's time to talk about something positive.

So as a Muslim woman I am pretty much replacing my whole wardrobe. As much as it shames me to admit it, the vast majority of my clothing doesn't count as modest. I started wearing hijab on Monday, but since I only have two long skirts some serious shopping needed to take place. Fortunately I was able to take care of that yesterday. While I need to buy more items, I have enough to hold me over until I can afford to replace everything. I found a nice collection of scarves and learned how to wrap them properly. This was a major relief for me, as I was getting tired of wearing kangas on my head and upper body. It's amazing how submitting to Allah changes one's life. Just seven months ago I was a woman that had little problem going out in hot pants and stilettos. Now, I look at abayas with coordinating scarves and think to myself:"That is so FLY!" What a journey it has been!

Feeling It...

For some odd reason I am really feeling this song today! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qw3Z8Oa7E3Y

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Last week I made a decision that would change my life. I'm the product of a Baptist family, yet I'm converting to Islam. I'm very pleased with this decision and at peace with it. However sharing this news with my family and friends has generated significant controversy. Since this is all an ongoing process, there will be multiple blog posts on this subject. In this installment I will discuss the hypocrisy that is aggravating me.

Most people in my circle identify as Christians, but are very lax in their practice. It might be better to call them nominal Christians or even "backsliders". Now I really didn't judge them for that and even now I'm not fully comfortable doing so. But now that they choose to judge me for becoming Muslim, I must admit that it crosses my mind. Each time I'm lectured on how I should have just remained Christian and followed Jesus, I want to ask them:"Why don't you follow your own advice first? If they truly believe that Christianity is the way, why don't they follow its tenets in their own lives? It's amazing to hear individuals attempt to convince me of something they don't truly believe in themselves! Follow the teachings of your own faith before you attempt to lecture me about mine.

Human Nature

I'm nearing my thirtieth year of life, yet there are some things that I don't understand.

A seventeen year girl meets a nineteen year old boy and they fall in love. Their love survives a civil war, death squads, imprisonment, poverty and racism. Yet when this nineteen year old boy grows into a fifty year old man, he turns his back on the woman that has loved him and stood by him, deciding that he wants to play the field. I don't understand that.

A thirteen year old girl meets a boy of the same age at summer camp. They become high school sweethearts. They pick out the name of their first child when they are 15 and marry at age 18. The first child is born when they are 22 and is given that special name. They divorce that same year. Thirteen years later, this man gives that cherished name to a child that he has with someone else. I don't understand that.

A woman carries and protects a child in her womb for nine months. She hears the most amazing sound there is in this world-the sound of a second heartbeat inside of her. She feels the strength of her baby as she turns and kicks within. She goes through hours of pain but cries tears of joy upon seeing her child. Before the child is a year old, the mother gives the child to friends to raise and forgets about her. I don't understand that.

A father has a precious, beautiful daughter that adores him. Yet when he and the mother separate, he pretends that the daughter does not exist. He can afford to start and run his own business, he can finance a wedding and a honeymoon. Yet when it comes to his daughter he can't pay for tickets to see her or get her any gifts for Christmas. I don't understand that.

A woman has two daughters. She constantly brings strange men around them. Some of these strange men repeatedly molest the two little girls. The two little girls grow into women that cannot trust men and do not trust their mother. The mother takes no responsibility for the pain she has caused her daughters and makes no attempt to help them heal. I don't understand that.

The scenarios above are a mix of situations that I've seen and/or experienced. I think about them often. I do this because I want to make sense of things. My world is much better when everything is black and white. But for the life of me I can't figure these things out. At times I think I should be glad that I don't understand these things. If I understood them then I may be able to justify them and possibly carry them out. My inability to understand these actions makes me feel like my moral compass is still in place. However it doesn't change the reality. So I sit at my PC and blog. I think of the daughters and the sons and the husbands and the wives. I cry for them, I cry for myself and I cry for all of the pain that we humans choose to inflict on each other unnecessarily.