By Taylor Jones, Guest Contributor
I am a senior at Potomac High School in McLean, Virginia. The Buxton Initiative sponsored my senior project, which involved visiting various mosques throughout the Washington area (the ADAMS Center, Dar Al-Hijrah, The Islamic Center of Washington, and Masjid Muhammad). I’ve had Muslim friends but I’ve never taken the time to visit their places of worship. At first, I was very nervous about attending prayer at mosques; I was afraid of interacting with total strangers as well as crossing cultural boundaries.
Having been raised in many different churches all my life, I’ve always known some of the smaller details like what to wear, how to address authority, what to say during service as well as what not to say, and when to stand up, kneel or sit down. These are all things that I was conditioned to know. I’ve never thought twice about my behavior inside the four walls of a church. When I first attended the Islamic Center of Washington (click here for pictures of the center), feelings of discomfort and awkwardness accompanied me as I entered a space I had never entered before, even though I drive by it almost every week.
Quickly I developed a sense of comfort inside these mosques, however, and I continually encountered scenes that surprised me. One moment at the Islamic Center of Washington sticks out to me. Right before the call to prayer, a father and his son, the latter of whom was about four years old, walked into the mosque. The father sat down while his son rambunctiously ran around the mosque as if it was his playground. He twirled around the columns and rolled around while his father sat quietly, kneeling down. The father did not utter a word during his son’s routine but, as soon as the call to prayer was given, the boy sat down next to his father and performed the motions of prayer with the same amount of reverence and respect as everyone else. Then after his abridged prayer, he hopped back up and played around again.
The people I encountered in each of the mosques were incredibly diverse. Not only was there a mixture of nationalities but also of circumstances, apparel and apparent levels of religiosity. Inside each masjid (mosque), I saw men in suits, jeans, sweatpants, khakis, the traditional thob (long robe), basketball jerseys, and even baseball hats. Outside there were BMW’s parked next to taxis as well bicycles. And inside, I could hear a range of languages and accents that stemmed from the entire globe. At the Masjid Muhammad in the inner city of DC (click here for pictures), an African-American man buffing the floor in blue jeans and a t-shirt gave the call to prayer. After the service, outside of that same mosque, I talked to a guy from Sierra Leone who drove a taxi in DC.
As I reflect on my experience doing my senior project, I cannot help but feel privileged to have had this opportunity. Not only has it allowed me to step out of my comfort zone, it has given me a greater appreciation for exploring unfamiliar cultures. Whether through anthropology or journalism, I can see myself continuing to interview and ask questions in order to further my knowledge of the differences around me.
See Taylor’s senior project blog for more!
