Iman pump

I think that I first encountered this expression in a podcast a revert sister from California published a couple of years ago. Like most Muslim reverts I follow, they post in their first 3 years, and then disappear. They’ve gotten tired of all of the attention, the criticism. Or maybe their intentions for posting became blurry: am I doing this for attention, to be liked, admired? Why do I care? And eventually they stop caring and start focusing towards more of the inside. The inside circle of people who matter. The inside of themselves. They go deeper. Good for them. Good for her. All that to say, I can’t share that fantastic podcast with you, so you’ll just have to trust me that she rocks and that “iman pump” is a real thing. Or at least it’s an experience I’ve heard a bunch of revert have, thought that expression never trended. Iman means faith.

I recently started a chaplaincy program where we had to share goals. What are you expecting from this class? One of them was about discovering how to better navigate relationships with Muslims and discovering how to set up boundaries.

My class, mostly Muslim, was surprised. Being a chaplain means that we often interact with a diversity of faiths, and so most goals were geared towards other faiths.

When I tried to explain my difficulties when meeting new Muslims, that expression came out of my mouth. Thanks Avalon. I said: “sometimes it’s hard being the token Muslim revert in a room. It’s like you get tokenized: you’re always the other, you’re never just a Muslim. And then so many people are super invasive and just use you as an iman pump”. It’s a form of tokenization.

And then one of my classmate asked me: can you explain what you mean? What does it feel like to be someone’s iman pump?

I tried answering but I failed. I had kinda intellectualized the concept, I could say what I mean, but not really what it felt like. Classic me. Obviously if experiences only exist as words and not incarnated things that happen to you, then it’s as is they did not happen at all. And so I thought about it for a couple of days.

Like every human interaction, it’s rooted in intention. All that I’m about to say is based in that. Someone using you as an iman pump is, clearly, someone is using you, and that of course doesn’t feel great.

It’s like being in front of someone dying of thirst. They are thirsty for God, for Allah, the divine love and mercy. There is no 7/11 for that. You can’t just walk to the grocery store and grab it like you would a bottle of Gatorade, or find a park with a nice shiny water fountain and put your face in the fresh stream and drink. They are thirsty, there is no bottle of spiritual blue electrolytes to quench that, and so they try to get it out of you. As if faith could be squeezed out of my pores and ingested.

I think it starts with the pressure that often comes with being ze revert in the room. The white lady in the scarf. The one who freezes when people speak Arabic. Most Muslims are not Arabic, but that’s for another conversation. It’s just something that’s expected in a lot of circles. And it’s even worst if you’re not a hijabi. I guess too many Muslims expect that Islam be a look. A hijabi in a shade anywhere between light beige and deep brown with an accent. When people set you aside, already that’s not a great place to start a relationship as equals. Imam pumping starts in asymmetry.

And then it goes on to become very intrusive. I feel it is common sense - but as they say common sense is not common, that you should approach reverts the same way you do other people. I would advise spiritually thirsty people to refrain from asking ultra personal questions before having done the basics of getting to know someone. Kindly back off. You are a lot.

We should definitely pray for such a person. We are these people. We are all desperate for some divine love. I am. I am in need of connection, of forgiveness, of help, of orange sunsets and tap water and a good night of sleep and for my bones to stay in place. For my old iPhone SE 2nd generation not to die, to find a matching pair of socks. I cannot save you, but I will pray for you, oh you thirsty one. If you are tempted to befriend a revert, I recommend introducing yourself first.

This one feels like pity and like being on a reality show, where people just really enjoy seeing your pain. I’ve shared my revert story many times with many people, but spiritual journeys are intimate things. Some people talk about intimate things easily and openly. Others prefer to keep it private. You know someone wants to pump out your iman when you feel like they just want to look at your past pain, trauma, and walk that path towards God’s light in a fast superficial cinematographic way. I don’t think you can be an iman pump for a close friend or relative. There is something in the perverse nature of their inquiry.

It’s like being pressured to go on reality TV. Not cool. Reverts are not things to be consumed.

As with many other uncomfortable encounters, I’ve discovered that taking a deep breath usually gets you halfway there. For the other half, Avalon’s words are still with me. Not just that expression but how she found how to react in this context. “This is a personal piece of my journey that I am not comfortable sharing at this moment. Maybe if we get to know each other more we can revisit that.”