It's hard being a (nation of) Muslim

An African-American co-worker approached me (in the men's room, of all places) and asked me if I was Muslim. I said that I was, but I was a little reticent about it. Firstly, I'm not very religious; secondly, I don't bond with people on religion; thirdly, the last thing I needed was to have someone at work hold me to a standard to which I very loosely adhere. Finally, I had a nagging suspicion that while we were both Muslims, he was Nation of Islam and I'm just plain old Sunni.

This would have been a very awkward conversation, explaining to him that I didn't believe a space ship was orbiting around earth waiting to rescue all the brothers nor did I think I could ever work a bowtie into my 'look'.

My fears were unfounded; he was very nice and very pleasant. He seemed interested in the fact that I was a Muslim from the Arab world and he didn't attempt to test my faith or talk politics. His pleasant demeanour will make my attempts to distance myself from him that much harder. I mean, what if he chastises me for not eating Halal meat? I even have a problem with my own use of the word 'chastise'. The reason I left Egypt is so that people would stop chastising me. Also, if he invites me to 'break bread' with him, I'll have an even bigger problem. I like eating alone.

He'll doubtless construe this as religious snobbery. I may inadvertently stir up some ethnic strife up in this bitch as a result of this culinary snub. He may inform his friends who will doubtless waylay me and end up pelting me with bowties. If I'm lucky.