Breaking matzah, growing up Muslim amongst Jews. By Zeba Khan


As a Muslim American, I realise that my diploma from the Hebrew Academy of Toledo is an unusual credential. But in the context of my family and our identity, it makes perfect sense.
My mother emigrated from India to the United States in 1963, settling in northwest Ohio two years before the quota laws changed to allow a significant wave of emigration from South Asia and other non-European countries. My father arrived in Toledo, Ohio in 1967. A year later, my parents married.
Ethnically alone and deeply religious, they found commonality with the local Muslim Arab community of Lebanese and Syrians. The Arabs welcomed my parents with open arms and quickly folded them into their community. My parents helped build the city's beautiful mosque (which, in fine Ohio fashion, is right in the middle of an endless cornfield) and became active members in the Muslim community.
Eventually, when other South Asians arrived, my parents somehow could never entirely fit in with them. My parents' experience was uniquely theirs. Their cultural identity was a summation of the South Asian heritage that bore them and the Arab community that nurtured them, both parts inextricably linked to one another to create the home culture in which I was born and raised.
It was in this home environment that celebrated cultural pluralism that my parents nurtured my cultural identity as a Muslim American. They demonstrated in word and deed the connection between being a faithful Muslim and a patriotic American.
By the age of four, my father was already taking me door-to-door with him to collect money for the homeless. On a typical weekend home from college, my mother dragged me from my bed to build houses with Habitat for Humanity. Giving back was a duty and a privilege because we were Muslim and American.
But this is only half the story. Like my parents before me, my home environment only partly shaped my identity. The other part came from my daily life with friends and an even wider notion of "community".
My parents' commitment to faith and country not only led them to give back, but also pushed me to test my notions of identity and take ownership over who I am. They enrolled me at the Hebrew Academy of Toledo, a small Jewish day school nestled in the suburbia of northwest Ohio. The only non-Jew in the school, I learned Hebrew and prayed in the synagogue alongside my classmates. On Sundays, I attended Arabic and religion classes at our mosque and prayed the mid-afternoon prayer with our Muslim community.
There was no contradiction in these actions in my mind or within our family. For nine years, this routine was my definition of normalcy. The seamless and daily transition from my Jewish environment to my Islamic one allowed me to genuinely appreciate the faith of my friends alongside my own. My parents made sure that I knew the differences between Islam and Judaism, explaining the Islamic perspective on every topic I was taught at school. At the same time, they were ever careful to explain the respect that we as Muslims should have for our Abrahamic brothers and sisters in faith. Our different perspectives did not negate the validity or the truth in the other faith.
I graduated from the Hebrew Academy in 1993 and moved on to a non-religious school for junior high and high school. As far as I know, no Muslims besides my two siblings and me ever attended the Jewish school. Similarly, as the Muslim community grew and began to set up its own elementary schools in town, no Jewish children ever enrolled.
The embrace that my parents felt from the Arabs when they arrived to America found its echo for me within the Jewish community, which welcomed me in as family, ensuring that I always had a kitchen in which to break matzah, and a sukkah in which to shake the lulav.
I know that much of my own adherence to Islam as an adult can be traced back to my Jewish friends from my youth who shared with me the joy and spiritual fulfilment they felt from practicing their faith. Their commitment to their faith inspired and encouraged me to explore and appreciate the complexity of my own.


* Zeba Khan ( is the founder of Muslim-Americans for Obama and an advocate for Muslim American civic engagement. This abridged article is distributed by the Common Ground News Service (CGNews) with permission from the author. The full text can be found at Goatmilk.

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