My Journey Out of Religion

Recollections of a Formative Journey

My earliest memory harks back to when I was two and a half years old, etched into my psyche by an excruciating event. I remember being pinned down by several people, helpless in the face of agonising pain, while undergoing circumcision. A seemingly peculiar ritual where part of the human body is altered to appease an omnipotent entity. The irony of this intelligent designer, who created the human body, inclusive of the foreskin, only to demand its removal, has never been lost on me.

Fast forward a few years to when I was six, and I recall vivid discussions with my mother concerning the afterlife, eternal hell and divine retribution. Struggling to comprehend why a benevolent God would wish to inflict punishment, I questioned my mother about this divine paradox. She offered no explanation, instead firmly instructing me never to question God's ways again.

Over the next 15 years, I expended significant effort in trying to reconcile with these teachings. I strived to maintain a regular prayer routine, convinced that Islam held the solution to every question and issue. I accepted the premise that if I failed to find answers, it was simply because I had not exerted enough effort to fully comprehend my religion. Islam pervaded every aspect of my life, from the television, literature, school, and even in the after-school sermons of an irascible cleric.

But with a deeper study of Islam, the answers became even more elusive, and my questions only multiplied. Either I encountered unsatisfactory answers or hostile glares in response. Undeterred, and still steadfast in my belief that the Quran was a divine text addressed to all humans, I sought my answers within its pages. Reading the Quran from cover to cover, however, was a disorienting experience. I found contradictions and intolerance towards Christians, Jews, Pagans and non-believers. I was aware of Allah's disdain for those who held differing beliefs, but the level of vehement aggression and hate I encountered left me bewildered.

As I delved deeper into the Quran over the following weeks and months, my confusion only escalated. I was led to believe that the moment you begin to understand Islam, Satan attempts to distort this understanding. I was told to dismiss my doubts and maintain my faith. So, I tried my utmost to comply.

Yet, in the subsequent year, during Ramadan, as I read the Quran again, my faith began to wane. All my life, I had tried to suppress my inquisitive nature, but this time, I found it impossible to continue. My entire life had revolved around my religion, with my primary purpose being to please God through adherence to a strict regimen of prayers and rules. But, devoid of the widespread internet access we take for granted today, my newfound scepticism left me feeling isolated, guilt-ridden, and without an outlet to express my feelings.

Relocating to the UK offered some respite, liberating me from the pretence of prayer. Then, in 2008, I discovered the Council of Ex-Muslims of Britain and for the first time, met others who had similarly distanced themselves from Islam. Meeting people who had shared comparable experiences was a revelation, an unexpected joy of finding my tribe, of which I hadn't known I was a part.