The smell of spiced lamb steaming in a clay pot filled the air, blending with the rhythmic hum of prayer calls from far away. In a modest apartment in San Francisco, Amina sat opposite her older sister Fatima, their hands cradling steaming cups of mint tea. It was a familiar scene — two sisters sharing warmth and conversation — but today’s discussion ventured deep, an exploration of identity, history, and faith.
“Fatima,” Amina began hesitantly, “what does it mean to be Black and Muslim in America? I’ve been wondering about how our family’s story fits into something so vast.”
Fatima smiled knowingly, setting her cup down. “That’s a big question, little sister. But let’s start with the beginning — our roots.”
The Journey of Faith
Islam’s diversity, Fatima explained, was born from its history. “Islam spread through trade, education and community-not just conquest. From its origin in the Arabian Peninsula, it moved along the ancient trade routes into Africa, Asia and Europe, becoming a faith of many languages, colors and cultures.” Amina nodded; her mind had already darted ahead-to the trip of their family, now in Mauritania. “So, how did Islam come to us — our family in Mauritania?
Fatima’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Mauritania is in Western Africa, where Islam arrived around the 8th century. The Arab traders brought it across the Sahara, but it was embraced because it fit with our values: hospitality, community, and spirituality. Our family has been Muslim for generations, and that connection to faith has always been tied to how we live together, how we celebrate, even how we eat.”
“But what about here?” Amina pressed. “What’s it like being Muslim in San Francisco?”
Fatima paused, looking out the window. “It’s complicated,” she said. “San Francisco’s diverse, but being a Muslim — and Black — means standing out. Some people see my hijab and assume I’m foreign even though I’ve lived here my whole life. Other people ask questions that strike me as intrusive, such as, ‘Do you feel oppressed?’ or ‘Why do you fast during Ramadan?’ It can be tiring, but it can also be an opportunity for education.
“What about praying five times a day?” Amina asked.
Fatima chuckled. “That’s the easy part. Prayer is my anchor. No matter where I am or how people treat me, I can always pause, face Mecca, and reconnect with Allah. It’s a reminder that this world isn’t all there is.”
Amina thought about her family’s gatherings, and the shared experience of not eating during Ramadan brought everyone in closer.
Bridging Two Worlds
“Why did our family come to the U.S.?” asked Amina.
“Opportunity,” Fatima replied. “Our parents wanted us to have education and choices they didn’t have. But they also brought something with them — community. Even here, we’ve kept that connection strong. Think about our cousins back in Mauritania. We talk to them almost daily, we visit as often as we can. That closeness, that support — it’s a part of being Muslim, but it’s also just who we are.”
“Do you ever feel pressure being Muslim?”
Fatima hedged. “Yes,” she said. “There’s pressure to represent Islam well, to counter stereotypes. And there’s the internal pressure — to live up to our values, to honor our family and our faith. But it’s a good pressure. It keeps me grounded.”
Amina absorbed this, considering her own experiences. “Do you feel like people look at you differently?”
“Sometimes,” Fatima said. “But it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. When people see me as a Muslim first, or as Black first, they’re missing the point. I’m all of those things. And I’m proud.”
The Heart of It All
The evening prayer call, soft but clear, echoed from Fatima’s phone, winding down their conversation. Sisters together laid out their prayer mats side by side. She bowed, whispering her prayer, feeling part of not just her sister or the family but the legacy behind her that stretches back in time.
Later, over dinner, Amina reflected on Fatima’s words. Being Black and Muslim in America wasn’t one thing; it was family and faith, history, and resilience. It was to carry the past with you while you forged ahead into a future.
“Fatima,” she said softly, “I think I understand a little better.”
Fatima smiled, handing her the teapot. “Good. Now, let’s eat before the food gets cold”
And it was in the warmth of this meal they shared that Amina felt the answer settle into her heart: being Black and Muslim was about connection — between people, across oceans, through time.
Seybane was a fellow in the 2024 Story Gathering Workshop, a program that gives young writers the opportunity to publish an article for our news outlet, Voices.
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