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Remember that I realized that what I was actually doing all those years was imagining what kind of
a man my father had been and trying to model myself on this virtual father I had constructed out of the
ether. He was well read. I would be also. He was moral and ethical and spiritual. I should be so too.
He was kind and generous, and he sympathized with those less fortunate. So was I and so do I.
But was this truly my father? Today, I am not sure of anything. The words that are used to describe
him by those who knew him are unfortunately so bereft of any real content that I know I am engaged in
a fantasy construction.
I know that over many years I have constructed an idea of my father as an Arab and a Muslim and a
human being. It is with a minimal number of facts and a great deal of imagination that I have built up a
picture of how my father might have raised me and my siblings. What I can say with certainty is that
my personal mission to build an image of my father made me appreciate not just his existence as a
special human being, but also the certainty that each of us is a human being with something special to
offer the world. It is my determination to fill in the gaps of his life that has made me so aware of the
possibilities for each and every individual.
As I thought about who my father had been and who he might have evolved into, I began thinking
very differently about what it meant to be a Muslim—but not just any Muslim. I was interested in
what it took to become the best of Muslims. I wanted to know what I should read to become familiar
with the references that represented the best of our literature. I wanted to know where the best
congregated and what sense they held of themselves. Fairly quickly, I found that though there might be
such ideas, there was no clear sense of working toward a set of goals or of working within a set of
standards. If there were any clear models, they revolved around the mosques. Unfortunately, I also
found that they all were characterized by an absence of rigorous thought, of depth of character, or of
complex personality. I began to despair, to fight back, to run away, and to return.
In closing this letter, I want you to remember that education is more than just absorbing facts and
passing exams. The education that I see for you is one that is based on an understanding that you can
grow as a complex and whole individual if you recognize the role of responsible imagination in
building yourself. I want you to grab hold of your imagination and force it to think through the myriad
possibilities that exist for your life path. I then want you to make the choices you make, taking full and
free responsibility for those choices. Why? Because that is what each of us is doing subconsciously
when imagining we know things with certainty. Bring your freedom and responsibility out into the
open and embrace it.
Saif, I sometimes imagine that you might one day have a sister or even two. What would be
different in this letter if it were addressed to your sisters? Would I tell them that I expect something
else from them and for them? In some of the more “traditional” Muslim households, girls are seen
differently from boys. Is this appropriate or necessary? Is it Islamic to keep our young Muslim girls
out of schools, and deprive them of an education?
In answering this question, I cannot simply look to traditional texts and strict interpretations of
Islam. I also need to look at my own personal experience and see what this tells me. Dry rules in