Intersection of my Faith, Culture, Ethnicity, Choice, Body and Neurodivergence

They always face the sun. Kind of looking for hope – even in the hardest times. Again reminding me of myself. 

I am lucky in the sense that growing up I had loving parents who took care of me. My father used to work overseas to support our family. My mom held the fort back at home. We lived in a loving joint family system. 

This is where the intersection comes into play. 

You see, despite having the privilege that I did, I felt things a little differently. I saw things a little differently. I perceived things a little differently, and I did things a little differently.  

I was different. At least that’s how I felt. 

No one understood why I got offended by certain things. 

And I didn’t understand why people would get angry or offended by what I said or did. 

Culture, Body and Neurodivergence

Our culture is rich in its hospitality. It’s colorful. It’s beautiful but it’s not all a bed of roses. 

The gossip mill runs on comparisons. 

Comparison between me and my peers – (whether siblings, cousins or friends) – never sat well with me. 

The hardest part was body shaming under the pretense of “ we care  – that’s why”

My mother tried to tell me I am beautiful the way I am – but I didn’t believe that. 

How could I when so many people were trying to tell me how I look? I didn’t know of my neurodivergence back then, but not knowing doesn’t make neurodivergence go away. My Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria played a huge role in the intersection of my body and my neurodivergence. 

I remember attending a funeral, and someone told another person your daughter resembles Samar – her response was God forbid – she doesn’t. 

Don’t get me wrong. I am not seeking any sympathy. I love myself for who I am (now) but back then, it was hard for me to process. It was hard for me to love myself for who I was. 

You see, I have always had an emotional relationship with food. I have always had a challenge convincing my brain to do tasks. That doesn’t mean I didn’t do them. I did but with an effort that no one could see and now no one believes.

 It always felt like I was pushing myself against a wall – a wall that was pushing back. And I wasn’t stronger than the wall. But how long could I keep going like that? 

I gained weight, I did crazy diets, I lost hair, I had major health issues. I knew I was overweight and I knew why and God knows I was trying to lose my weight but people thought I didn’t know and that I wasn’t trying and therefore reminded me quite frequently. 

Most of these memories though I feel like only I remember. Because when I recall, they are either not mentioned, the subject is changed or I face counter arguments that somehow gaslight my lived experience to the point where I start questioning myself. If positive gaslighting is a thing – then I have an extra large serving of it everytime I talk about my struggles. 

The good part about my self discovery journey though?

 I  feel authentic. I believe in myself. I trust myself. I validate myself. 

Culture, Ethnicity, Choice, Body and Neurodivergence

I am a muslim woman of south asian descent who chose to wear a hijab with her own free will. 

No one forced me. No one “oppressed” me. It was my choice. 

In fact if anything, most of the people I know were against it. 

I am a muslim woman of south asian descent who identified her struggles, made a choice to seek support and made a choice to go on a journey of self discovery. 

I am an autistic & adhd muslim woman of south asian descent who made a choice to disclose her neurodivergence after being identified as autistic and adhd by three psychologists. 

I knew I would receive invalidation. Maybe some snickers (No, not the chocolate. Though I wish it was because ironically I love the snickers chocolate! )  

I knew there will be more positive as well as negative gaslighting than ever. 

I knew that culturally and ethnically my choices will create more challenges for me emotionally and mentally. 

I didn’t know whether I had the capacity to deal with all of that but I couldn’t live without being my authentic self. So I made a choice. 

Hijab was my choice. Pursuing an evaluation was my choice. Disclosing my diagnosis was my choice and now writing openly about my lived experience is my choice. 

I don’t want to burn any bridges or hurt any sentiments, but I just want to hear my own voice. Validate my lived experience and respect my intersectional identity. 

Faith