I Went From Muslim To Jewish For Love

But Hurricane Katrina intervened. We had to relocate to Houston. And my conversion ceremony, which would have taken place in front of our congregation, wound up being quite private: just me, Ron, two very good Jewish friends, the rabbi and the cantor from New Orleans. I felt very connected to each person in the room. I had traveled so far in this journey already: medical school, marriage, pregnancy, the hurricane—and these people had all come to another city, another state, to witness my conversion.

First, came the mikvah—the ritual bath. I disrobed immersed myself in the water, and prayed. It was very serene—just me and my friend Natalie in the room together. Then I tried to get out, only I was so pregnant she had to help me! (And of course we'd forgotten a towel, so Ron ran off to Target.) After my bath, the rabbi blessed me, and it was such a momentous moment: I felt so relieved to finally be able to call myself a Jew. Finding Religion After Finding The One

Even though I had found my religion, at first it was hard to fit in. Ron and I moved to Los Angeles, where there are a lot of Iranian Jews—but they were born that way, and don't usually approve of converts. I went to an Iranian-Jewish website and asked a rabbi if I would be accepted. Because I don't keep kosher and was a Reform Jew, he said I wasnt welcome there.

It was a slap in the face. At first, I was angry and disappointed, but I realized I didn't convert for acceptance—or to join some sort of club. I had converted for my own, and my family's, spiritual development. The most important thing was feeling like I was Jewish.

And we found a synagogue that makes me feel that way: It has female rabbis and emphasizes community and continuing education. That was essential to me. Studying the Torah is a lifelong work, and I'm up for it, now that I have a sense of place for me—and my family.