At The Beginning
I was born to young parents who may be known as “Hippies” of their time. On my mother’s side, mixed marriages were common and religious subjects were never brought up during family events.
Like most Muslim children, I attended Madrasah twice a week. I was molested by one of the Ustaz in the mosque and I told my mum about it. Of course no one believed me. I was accused of being a liar and even forced to drink “air Yasin”. They claimed that if my accusation was not true, Allah would punish me. Oh well, nothing happened to me nor the perverted “Ustaz”.
My mother decided to teach me instead. All she did was force me to pray and read the Muqaddam. Being a curious kid, I wanted to know the meaning as I did not understand it at all. It was neither Malay nor English. Even she could not tell me the meaning of the contents nor tell me that it’s actually Arabic language.
I became frustrated and I started seeing religious studies as a waste of time. So I rebelled and I kicked the Muqaddam. As a result, I was hit with the wooden stand repeatedly and it broke my nose. My mother snapped frequently and became abusive. She would claim that Allah entered her body to punish me because He loves me. I believed her as I could not recognise her each time she hit me. She taught me to lie whenever a teacher or neighbours were to ask me about my bruises or injury.
My parents divorced when I was 14 and I chose to stay with my father. He suffered from depression and worked even harder to keep himself occupied. I had new found freedom and more time to explore other things.
I met a Christian girl called K.K. She had an abusive mother as well but she was always calm. Apparently going to church gave her the strength to carry on. So I started reading the Bible and attended church with her every Sunday. For the first time, I felt accepted and loved. I realised that Allah was the devil. What kind of God would possess a woman to hit her own child?
However, my love with Christianity was short lived. My parents found out about me attending Church. Their way of dealing with it was to humiliate me by ambushing me one fine Sunday. Not only I was beaten up badly but my father actually stripped me almost to my undergarments. Some Christians tried to help but no one dared to stop it.
I was sent to Pertapis for six months. I clearly did not belong there. I was not a junkie or runaway kid nor was I a teenage mum.
K.K. killed herself. I am not sure if she felt responsible for me being sent to Pertapis or Jesus had entered her mother’s body too.
That was the end of religion for me.
My husband and I decided to get married after five years together. I told my father over the phone and his first question was “Is he converting?” That was enough to drive me to the edge. “Really? After years of bad parenting and all of a sudden he is a man of God?”
Then I received a call from mother and she goes “I have this terrible feeling..”
I asked “Is anyone ill in the family?”
She goes ” You will go to Hell should you go ahead with this marriage.”
I proceeded with my wedding plans and had my dream wedding. My parents did not attend. My aunt who went to Mecca twice attended and even gave us her blessings. Now that is unconditional love and something which Islam is lacking.
Three months after my wedding, I found out that my mother was harassing my husband by texting him messages like ” Allah gave your country tsunami & earthquake because your people are not Muslims”
I lodged a police report against her and got my lawyers to send her a warning letter. The harassment stopped immediately.
Free from Islam
I took an oath and renounced myself officially at MUIS a few months ago. I Informed a male relative as I did not have any male siblings. He was kind enough not to question further.
I am living my life now as how a normal human being should be. Free from worries of the afterlife and free from pleasing people who no longer matter.
No one can escape from discrimination. My Muslims friends make fun of me by calling me a murtad while the non-Muslims will ask condescendingly “Can meh?” In my opinion, the lesser you care, the better.
My hope for ex-Muslims is knowing that they are not alone. This is the only life you have. Live it your way or die trying to please everyone.
Maybe like other religions, ex-Muslims can finally say freely “My parents are Muslims but I am a free thinker or of some other religion”.