The interesting thing was — when I was going through this divorce, everyone kind of became relationship gurus. LOL. This is fine for the people who either went through it or just gave good advice, but others? Not so much.
Here’s a bit of advice. No one knows your spouse like you do or did, so keep that in mind when seeking consultation from others.
There is a stigma attached to an Islamic divorce. And usually, somehow, it becomes the female’s fault. Bullshit. Marriage is a two-way street. If you are divorced or going through one, don’t ever let anyone bait you into believing it was all your fault.
During my divorce period, I was asked to write about my experience. I thought it was too soon to talk about it. I didn’t want to come off as the bitter, Black, Muslim writer. So I held off. I planned on writing a few pieces when everything was finalized and when I was in a little bit of a better place.
A few people encouraged me not to reveal my divorce publicly because of the backlash I’d receive from the community (Oh, yes. It happens). The dreaded questions about what happened — and the sad, droopy faces and awww’s.
I’m not going to lie. In the beginning, I was very ashamed of the divorce. I felt like it was tattooed on my forehead. Everyone in the community knew my dirty laundry. It was etched into stone and followed me around like a dark cloud with lightning thundering around it. I felt exposed and basically like a failure.
Divorced. Divorcée? DIVORCED!
That word became me. And I was it.
But then, I got to thinking about life in general. A bit of a reflection. I thought about all the positive things I’d accomplished during the marriage. And all the things that I still planned on accomplishing after it. I figured out very quickly that I was still the same writer, blogger, sister, and friend that I was before… just without the other half and a ton more bills. Haha!
I’m not going to lie. In the beginning, I was very ashamed of the divorce. I felt like it was tattooed on my forehead. Everyone in the community knew my dirty laundry.
Then the question arose, why should I be ashamed of my divorce?
I share a lot with you guys already. Plus, this is a major milestone — one that many of us have either experienced or will experience (I hope not, though!). How many women have been through the same thing, doubting themselves through a divorce? Thinking much less of themselves? Wondering what’s next for them?
I feel like, through my life stories and gift of gab, I have a duty to share and teach. Trust me when I tell you that I’m not in the running for “Divorcée of the Year,” but I’m still growing and learning through this process, and I’d like other girls and women to do the same.
We aren’t these empty human shells. We have emotions and we go through divorces. It’s not a death sentence. It’s not the end for you. Or me.
I feel, as women, we should be able to talk about these deep, risqué issues that plague us every day.
As a Muslim, sometimes a lot of topics are hush-hush, but how is that really helping? By being quiet and not sharing vital information, how is that going to elevate us as a whole, as a community of badass chicks?
I guess I’m kind of a rebel when it comes to these things.
But it’s time to break out of this mold that we, as Muslim women, have created and allowed society to keep hold of. We aren’t these empty human shells. We have emotions and we go through divorces.
It’s not a death sentence.
It’s not the end for you. Or me.
There is so much more to the world than the small label of divorcée.
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xoxo,
Leah V. (@Lvernon2000)