My name is Ah-Pei Ahmad. Anyone looking at me would see a six foot tall, fit and slender young Asian woman with long Black hair, light brown eyes and bronze skin. That's how I look to the world. Today I turn twenty two. Even though I am young, I have lived quite the interesting story. One fraught with pain and loss, and also love and hope. Before we go any further, I must warn you that my story isn't for the faint of heart. A lot of people living in western societies are shocked at the stuff that goes on in other parts of the world. Places where religious extremists and dictators reign supreme. Places where the idea of women's rights and religious freedom aren't something you can even allow yourself to dream of. Places dominated by the iron-clad rules of Islamic law.
I was born in the City of Kuala Lampur, in the nation of Malaysia, and raised in the Province of Ontario, Canada. To say that my parents are conservative would be an understatement. Roughly sixty percent of all people in Malaysia are Muslims, and the others are Hindus, Pagans, Christians or followers of the fast growing Baha'i faith. I never saw a person of African descent until I came to the town of Toronto, Canada's biggest City. I found myself fascinated by this elderly man named Dinga, a Black man from Cameroon. Although he's a Christian, he was the only person who was friendly to my family in the mostly White suburb where we moved. I found myself curious about the Christian faith, and about Black men. Not in a sexual way, but in a soulful way. Black people were so different than just about every group of people I encountered in Malaysia. We have Indians, Arabs, Chinese, and many other ethnic groups in Malaysia but no Black people. I didn't realize it then but my fascination for Black men wouldn't go away.
When I started College, I met Tyrone Albright, this handsome Black guy from the City of Boston, Massachusetts, who was studying at a University in the City of Toronto, Ontario. He was the son of a Baptist minister, which fascinated me because my father is an Imam. In case you don't know, an Imam is the leader of a community among Muslims. My father had many responsibilities and much power back in Malaysia and felt like he lost a part of himself when we moved to Canada. North America seemed like a forbidden place for our family, and we had trouble adapting to it. Since I was young, I had the easiest time adapting to this new world. I wanted to live my life the North American way, and my parents simply wouldn't have it. When you're Muslim and female, your life is all about rules and limitations. Muslim men can drink, party and have fun. They can sleep around and do whatever they want. Muslim women have all the responsibilities while Muslim men have all the rights. Welcome to our world.
Muslim families are way overprotective of their daughters and don't much care for letting us date. I went through high school like this, stuck at home playing on my computer or watching television while my non-Muslim classmates went out and had fun. Finally, I graduated high school and started College. I had dreamed of going to College for years. Not for the academic stuff even though I excelled at it. I wanted to go to College because it meant ultimate freedom for me. My parents hadn't adapted too well to life in Canada. My father went from being a captain in the national police force of Malaysia and a respected Imam to a cook in a restaurant that serves haram foodstuffs. My mother went from being a schoolteacher and the wife of an important man to working as a grocery store clerk in a small neighborhood store. My parents didn't have an easy time in Canada. They learned one thing, though. Education was the key to a brighter future. They drilled that idea into my head.
