The older I’ve become, the more I’ve learned to appreciate both my religion and my culture, and to take pride in it, as my parents have always pushed me to do; I don’t find being “different” all that bad. But there’s a part of me that longs to be more connected to my roots, and that longing grows stronger during this time of year. I listen to my Muslim friends talk about their big families getting together for weekly iftars, and I crave the same. I know that no matter how much I immerse myself in my religion and its culture, part of me will never feel complete without experiencing the same kind of celebration with my extended family.
But I’ve learned to try to make up for that absence in my life by spending time in the kitchen, and I often help my mom as she prepares meals for iftar from scratch each day.
