Compiled by: Abdurahim bin Mizhir Almalki

 Sophie Jenkins

          I was born into a lower middle-class English family; my mother is a housewife and my father worked at an electronics firm, although  he is  now a lecturer in electronic engineering. My father came from a  Catholic background, and my mother from a Protestant one. They both shared a short spell in the Quaker church in the early 1970's, but by the time I came along, they were strong atheists and religion was never mentioned in our house, let alone practiced. My parents had decided that if we wanted to be religious when we grew up, they would be supportive.

            From a young age I believed in God, despite not being brought up with this belief, but still I got the feeling that what they were teaching in the Christian school I went to was somehow not right. I didn't believe in Jesus or the Holy Spirit –it all seemed false. But at school they told us this was the only right way and that all other religions were wrong, so I was very confused. When you're a small child, you assume adults are always right with no exceptions, so what they say, goes.

            Still I could not let this go, but I decided (probably quite wisely) to keep my belief in only one God private. I felt guilty for believing something that was "wrong." I felt ashamed, and I hoped and prayed that I would stop being a heretic soon. When I was young, I was exposed very much to the fear of "Islamic Fundamentalism," especially with the Salman Rushdie affair at the front of people's minds. I as frightened of Muslims in general. There were two Muslim children at my primary school, but they kept their beliefs to themselves, except for the fact that the younger child, Ali, refused to pray in Assembly.

            I had always prayed for God to show me the right way, I always turned to God for help, and there was no doubt in my mind that He existed. By the time I was eleven or twelve years old, I began to realize that perhaps my belief in one God wasn't wrong. At this time I had not really heard of Islam, all I "knew" about it was that it was violent, forceful and treated women like dirt.

            We were actually taught in school that Islam was spread by the sword, that women were chattels symbolized by their dress, and that Muslims worshipped Muhammad. I was really disgusted whenever I saw a Muslim lady shopping in the Manchester. I thought, "How can you do that to yourself?" I was really incensed. They did teach us one true thing though, that Muslims believe in only one God, which was something I honestly did not know before then.

            I looked into other religions, Judaism, Hinduism and Buddhism, but they all appeared so manmade and contradictory. However one day (I don't know what hit me) I just felt I had to check whether what I had been taught about Islam was true or not. I was also curious because I had been told Muslims believed in one God. I saw a book called Elements of Islam in the local library, and secretly I took it out. I turned straight to the section on Muslim women and was absolutely astounded by what I read. It was contrary to what I had been taught about Islam and women, and better than anything else I had ever heard of. I didn't doubt what I read; I knew it was true. I knew deep in my heart that all of my prayers had been answered.

            Islam was the truth that I had been searching for all of my life! Still, I felt bad for feeling this way – the old guilt from my primary school days came creeping back. How could I believe in the "wrong" religion? I tried to find evidence to "prove" to me that Islam was not the truth, but it was impossible. I already knew that all the book which said negative things about Islam were not true, and all the books that said positive things were telling the truth.

            I decided I must be a Muslim, although I couldn't come to terms with it, and I didn't tell anyone. I read every book I could get my hands on. I got a translated copy of the Qur'an from the library, but I couldn't understand everything because it was written in old English. This didn't put me off, however, for I knew it was only a translation. What I did gather from it, I liked very much. I knew Islam was for life – that there was no turning back –so I really had to make sure. I ended up studying for two and a half years before chancing upon a chat room in January, 1997, that was to change my life. It was the chat room at Islamicity, and the people there were very helpful. The second time I went there, I took shahādah in front of people from all over the world.

            My story spread like wildfire. I got e-mails from people everywhere congratulating me. This was actually frightening at the time. I felt like I was a celebrity under scrutiny. At the time I had just been diagnosed with clinical depression, therefore feeling very delicate. Some people were very helpful and understanding; one brother even sent me a package of books, which I had delivered to my friend's house. However, I also got quite threatening e-mails, telling me how everything I was doing was supposedly wrong! I was sent articles full of lies about Christianity and the Bible, because everyone assumed that I was going to "go back to Christianity" (I was never Christian in the first place!), and that being Muslim was just a phase.

            I developed a phobia of the Internet, and I distanced myself from Islam. I didn't know any Muslims in "real life," and I had no idea who I could contact. I felt so alone and frightened that I looked for friends in my area, but they were not a good crowd. They were into drugs, drinking and partying; but I was really messed up and needed some sort of company to stop me from going right over the edge. Every day was a nightmare for me. Most of the time I'd be hysterical, and at school people were threatening me and making fun of me.

            Eventually, I was admitted to a hospital as a day patient. Being there didn't really help in any way, and I just got more and more into drinking and drugs crowd. After a lot of treatment and just plain hard thinking, my head was clear again like it was when I first discovered Islam. I eventually saw my "friends" for who they really were. I had to escape from them, but I didn't know how.

            One day a sister I knew from the Internet convinced me to meet her to go shopping in Manchester. The day before was spent as usual, hanging around town with my "friends." In my head I was planning to tell them that the next day I would not be coming to their party. Just as I was about to leave for home, I said, "Oh by the way, I'm Muslim and I'm meeting a Muslim friends tomorrow in Manchester." Were they shocked! They (all but Emma and a boy called Alasdair) tried to talk me out of it, but I knew what I had to do.

            The next day I put a scarf in my bag and set off for Manchester. At Manchester station I went into the restroom, waited until nobody was around, and put the scarf around my head. I felt wonderful and incredibly confident, even though I walked out of an exit that came out into a busy restaurant; I wasn't fazed. I practically skipped to the shopping center. The sister was really friendly. We went around the shops for a little while, but then she asked me if I would like to go to Medina Hall?

            The hall was a hostel for Muslim students and also housed the offices of the university's Islamic society. That day a bunch of sisters were having an outdoor picnic. I felt like I had come home. Then I was invited to a camp; I felt elated. My parents knew I had converted to Islam earlier in the year, but they thought I had left it for good. I wondered what their reaction would be.

            When I arrived home my mother smiled and said, "That's a nice scarf." I told her about the camp, and she got out her purse and asked how much money it was, offering to pay. My dad was equally supportive and he took me to the sister's house, twelve miles away (which is a long way for my dad to drive), from which the camp transport was leaving. I enjoyed the camp immensely; I have been to three other camps since. I even went to a private Islamic high school for a while. I was sponsored, by my parents paid for my books and uniform, and they become good friends with the headmistress, Mrs. Mohammed. Unfortunately, the school was too far away and I had to stop going, but I still keep in touch with some of my friends from there.

            I have worn hijāb full time since that day I went to Medina Hall and can read, write and pronounce Arabic well. I am a practicing Muslim, but I am not judgmental of other people and do not tell them what to do.

            Although I have been treated badly by some Muslims, I have come to realize that Islam is perfect, Muslim are not. My family encourages me more in my pursuit of Islam than many Muslim parents do. I also have many non-Muslim friends who are very supportive. I do not belong to any particular sect or school of thought. I follow the Qur'ān and sunnah and scholars from a wide variety of backgrounds. I have found that a lot of Muslims do not accept me on the basis of my color and nationality, but this is just cultural ignorance and not Islam. I'd like to remind such people that Islam is for all of mankind. We are all born Muslim. If one must use labels, all of the prophets and their followers were essentially "converts" themselves anyway!

            Nothing can put me off Islam. I am glad to be Muslim. Although I am not perfect, I am really working on it. In the future I hope to improve my practice of Islam even more. On June 19th, 1999, I met a good brother. Three months later to the day we got married; it was the happiest day of my life. My husband is also a convert and has been Muslim for over six years. He is a wonderful brother, and I thank (Allāh subhānahu wa ta'ālā) every day for sending him to me.

            I do not have a problem with obeying my husband; it creates harmony in the relationship. But if he were ever to ask me to do something against Islam, then I must disobey him and obey Allah instead. Just because a Muslim wife must obey her husband and cooperate with him, it does not mean she is oppressed. It is perfectly allowed in Islam for a woman to work, but she also has the right not to work if she wishes. Islam gives women a lot of rights that they do not have in Western society.

            Women in Islam are people in their own right – they are valued as individuals. If a woman has income, it is completely her own; a man's income is also for his wife and children. Muslim women were given rights to vote, inherit, and own and deal in property and goods 1300 years before women in America and Europe. In some European countries women could not vote until the 1970's and 80's! Childbirth and motherhood are not curses in Islam; they are blessings with many rewards. If a woman dies in childbirth, she dies a martyr!

            I can't wait to have my children and bring them up in the religion of Islam! I hope that my story inspires other people, both young and old (I have come across people who came to Islam in their seventies, eighties and nineties!) to study Islam for themselves and find the kind of inner peace they never imagined possible.

            Learn about Islam today. It will be the best step you ever took.