Why We Left Islam (22 page)

He told me he was working (I later found out this was a lie). He used to lay my head in his lap, and stroke my hair; he was affectionate and considerate. I was swept up. For someone who felt as unloved as I had all my life, I finally thought that I had found it.

Those first six months between us were so special. I treasure those memories even though it hurts to do so.

We got married, and I became pregnant when I was twenty-one. That was when I found out who my husband really was.

Where once he had greeted me with kindness, now insults would spew from his mouth at all hours of the day. Where once he used to be affectionate, he now mocked me, and told me that someone like me didn’t deserve love. Where we used to enjoy nights out at the cinema, or a restaurant, now I was not allowed anywhere, and he wasn’t interested in, as he put it, “Western baloney.”

The first time he hit me, it was just a slap. I say just a slap because I grew up with abuse so I could kind of look past it.

I had my own home at the time, not owned by me, but provided for me by the council. It was small but it was home, and he used to live there with me.

The abuse just got worse. He would call me names for not wearing a
hijab
, so I put one on to make him stop. Still he didn’t stop. He got worse: He started to kick me, strangle me, and punch me.

When I was eight months pregnant with our first child, he came home angry one day. I opened the door to greet him and he kicked me right through our double doors. It didn’t matter that I was pregnant to him; he kicked me in my stomach with no regard for his son that I was carrying.

I sadly just felt that I deserved it all. Is it any wonder that I felt it was okay to be treated this way, that this was all I was worth?

Also, Islamically I felt obliged to keep on trying, to bear with it. I gave birth, but nothing got better. I still stayed with him, though. I had no control over my own life; he would not allow me to listen to music, to watch TV, to read my books. (I love to read—books are my passion and my escape.)

I wasn’t allowed to see my friends anymore. I became housebound as he felt that because I was half English I was more likely to be unfaithful.

Whenever he beat me, he would always say that he was allowed to; this is why I get so angry when Muslims try to say that that verse is there to be a deterrent. It is permission to beat your wife from God.

I won’t bore you with a long in-depth look into the whole eight years that I spent with him, but I will pick out a few moments to highlight.

The day the Twin Towers went down, he was so happy. He was celebrating the death of all those people; his mother held a big party and many Muslims came to her house to celebrate. I had to sit there and watch them replay the attack over and over again. I was furious inside. He could see how much I hated him for liking
death. When we got home he punished me suitably and called me a Jew lover.

This man did some awful things to me when I was married to him. He tried to run me over with his car, and threw me out of a moving car. He beat me in front of my sons.

He would tell me all the time how beneath him I was because I was not a pure Muslim, just half. I tried so hard to please him; I threw myself into the religion and tried to prove myself worthy. But nothing I did was ever good enough. I prayed to Allah to save me, but there is no Allah, so no one replied.

When I found out I was pregnant with a girl, I knew it was time to leave. I didn’t want my daughter to grow up thinking she was worth less than a man, or thinking that it’s okay for a man to hit a woman. I didn’t want her to be ashamed of me.

As her mother I am her role model. What kind of role model would I have been if I had stayed with him?

So I packed my stuff one day when he was out, and I ran away. I took my kids with me (unlike my real mother).

This day I will always remember until the day I die. I stopped a taxi, and we all got into it. I left him and I was so pleased. I took off my
hijab
when we were a safe distance from the house, and I threw it out of the taxi window. You should have seen the look on the driver’s face; he was shocked to say the least.

I let my ex-husband have contact with the kids for a while, but I have now stopped that, as he is teaching them the usual Islamic lies, and the kids are becoming harder to handle.

Truly though, my freedom only began when I found Faith Freedom International (FFI), an organization that assists former Muslims who wish to leave the faith. FFI opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at life. And now I am hopeful that things can only get better from here on out. It is not easy moving past all the brainwashing that we ex-Muslims have gone through as children. I still judge myself and I still find moments where I wonder if I am doing the right thing, but then I only have to pick up the Qur’an to remember and I feel even better. One day I won’t even have those moments anymore.

I am starting college. I choose what I want to wear, I choose how I want to live. I am bringing my kids up away from the damaging effects of Islam. I hope more Muslims than ever leave Islam this year and the next and the next until none are left.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE
JUTTA’S TESTIMONY

“After I had converted [to Islam]. . . I learned that I could be beaten by my husband, if he wasn’t satisfied with me. But in my addled mind I tried to find justification for that commandment. Moreover, I was sure that my husband was incapable of hitting a woman.”

W
HILE INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES become more proficient in tracking terrorists, it is important to bear in mind that terror organizations will also become more resourceful in acquiring converts. Indeed, in the years ahead, converts to the fundamentalist strain of Islam will not fit the traditional profile of an Islamic terrorist and will be able to slip through undetected by government agencies. Furthermore, with increasing Islamic birth rates there will be far more conversions to Islam. In light of this it is important to know what conversion meant for Jutta in her native country of Germany.

Jutta’s Testimony

I was born to a very pious Catholic family in Berlin. Nothing presaged that I would become a Muslim one day; in fact, to the contrary, everyone expected me to be a faithful Catholic throughout my life and pass down my faith to my children.

However, I had a very rebellious character and, like many adolescents, abominated everything my parents liked. I set a goal for myself to find a liberating religion different from that of my parents. I was convinced that nothing could be worse than Christianity with its oppressive teachings on women.

The religious atmosphere in my family was getting on my nerves. I was having heated arguments with my parents all the time
because of my disagreement with some Christian teachings. They pressed me to be a better Christian; I rebelled and did the opposite.

Soon after my graduation from university, I met a young Muslim man of Turkish origin. We fell in love and soon got married. He was not a religious fanatic—he was absolutely secular, although he did observe some Islamic obligations (he fasted and prayed). He didn’t ask me to convert to his religion but he made it clear that he would like his children to be Muslims. I myself took great interest in his religion and customs. I expressed willingness to learn more about Islam.

He brought me some deceptive (as I now understand) books about the glory of Islam and benefits of being a Muslim woman. I read the books and grasped the “beauty” of this religion.

I was taught by my Christian parents that a woman had to submit to her husband and thus find God. My Muslim husband seemed to be so close to God without any help from priests and I was told that I didn’t have to get married and submit to my husband to find peace of mind and faith in God. I looked at my husband and blindly believed all those lies because he was such a nice man who was the living example of a decent Muslim man. When I prayed behind him, I felt I was getting closer to God and Heaven.

Looking back on those days, I see that I was just a stupid kid who drummed into herself that Islam was an ideal religion for all humankind. Perhaps I simply wanted to vex my pious parents, whom I considered to be repressive monsters.

After I had converted, I was given some other books that were not as wonderful as the previous ones. I learned that I could be beaten by my husband if he wasn’t satisfied with me. But in my addled mind I tried to find justification for that commandment. Moreover, I was sure that my husband was incapable of hitting a woman.

I gave birth to our children, who were sent to a kind of kindergarten for Muslim children. I kept on working and didn’t want to give up my job. My husband supported me and told me that Islam encouraged women to work and have their own lives. I can’t understand how I could believe such downright lies.

A few years later he decided to perform
Hajj
. I was very excited and proud of him because, in fact, I was much more religious than my secular husband.

When he came back, I couldn’t recognize him. His behavior changed dramatically and he was no longer secular. I didn’t like wearing a veil and usually put it on only when I went to mosque. Now my husband told me that I had to wear a veil outside all the time. When I opened my mouth to object to his horrible behavior, he hit me in the face and told me to shut up. I was forced to quit my job and become a housewife.

He brought some books from Saudi Arabia which “reformed” him and saved him from “perishing in Hell.” I read those books on Islam, the real Islam that my husband started to practice. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes and I realized that I had never been a Muslim. But it was too late, as we were moving to Turkey. He feared that Germany would have an adverse effect on our children’s upbringing.

My life in rural Turkey, with his parents, was a nightmare. I was no longer a liberated Muslimah, a wife of a liberal Muslim; I was a real Muslimah, just a commodity of my husband.

I used to enjoy praying but now I started to detest prayers led by my husband. I no longer felt close to God. When I finished reading a real, not spurious, biography of the Prophet, I felt sick. I had been lied to all the time. How could I believe that Mohammad was the prophet of God?

I wondered what had happened to my husband. He told me he had had conversations with fellow Muslims from “moral” countries like Saudi Arabia and they had opened his eyes. I put the blame for my husband’s change of behavior on them, but then it occurred to me that he had always been a Muslim, although a secular one. What could I possibly expect from him? I had read dozens of articles about women married to Muslims and their hardship. I had been warned by my best friends that I was playing with fire. However, my unreasonable hatred for Christianity, my love for my husband, and the blatant lies deceived me and made me immune to reason and logic.

After such a rude awakening to the horrors of Islam and its treatment of women, I decided to review the Qur’an. My first feeling was anger at my blindness to reality. It is apparent from the Qur’an that men are given total control over women. “The Holy Book” abounds with discriminatory teachings on women, which are quite obvious from the context of the book. Only a blind woman in love like me could overlook them.

When my husband realized that I was no longer a docile wife and a pious Muslimah, he became a real savage. He showed his true colors and exclaimed that German whores could never become modest women.

Even his ultra-conservative parents and friends could not understand what had happened to my husband. Nobody expected him to change so greatly. Occasionally he dropped some vague hints from which followed that he had spoken to
sheikhs
, introduced to him by his friends, who were well-informed about Islam. They explained to him that the majority of Muslims didn’t follow the whole Islam; they just chose peaceful and beautiful parts but forgot about violent ones. You have to love your wife but remember to hit her from time to time or she will forget that she is just a woman made for your enjoyment. You ought to treat the infidels well, if it benefits you, but don’t forget that your main obligation is to overthrow their government and impose the
Sharia
.

I couldn’t believe that my humble hubby was now a faithful Wahabbi. I hoped I was asleep and dreaming, but I was not.

I managed to run away and get to the German embassy. My conversation with a female worker was another eye-opener—she asked me, “When will you learn to listen to the news, stupid hens?” She meant that all women knew that dating a Muslim, let alone marrying one, was a dangerous affair, yet we didn’t pay attention to all the warnings. Why do we keep on dating them?

Luckily, my children are with me, thanks to good lawyers. I am working and enjoying my life. But it could have been different. In that case, I could only blame myself for my stupidity.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO
ABUL’S TESTIMONY

“Islam today is the most hated religion in the world. The words ‘Islam’ and ‘fundamentalism’ are associated with terrorism, genocide, murder, bombing, hate—anything that goes against humanity. This has caused a great deal of pain, anxiety, panic and insecurity amongst the Islamists.”

A
BUL KASEM, a real person who lives and breathes Australian air, writes his testimony from the great city of Sydney where he has vowed not to cave in to fear and to speak the truth about the effects of Islam on his native Bangladesh, a country he once called home and still loves.

Abul’s letter describes witnessing the genocide of Bengalis at the hands of an Islamic army. As a result, he has devoted his life to opposing the spread of Islam. The question arises: If this is what an Islamic army did to Bengalis, what would they do to Americans?