My Journey to Becoming Aaisha Nafis Muhammad.

Lively and prosperous, precious, and worthy of praise. That is the meaning of Aaisha Nafis Muhammad.

The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad taught us that one of the first and most important truths that must be established is our identity. As my 28th birthday approaches, I have found myself thinking more and more about who I am, what I have experienced, and, more importantly, the woman I want to be. I want to take the time to share my journey with full transparency to show that both life's trials and tribulations and the teachings of the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad have not only helped me grow, but have also guided me into becoming a woman who ends each day feeling grateful, proud of who she is, and accepting that Allah is the Best Knower.

Growing up as a Muslim follower of the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad was something I took for granted in my younger years. I did not truly recognize its value, even though my grandfather would always say, "This teaching will save your life." My early twenties became a lesson in just how true those words really were. Unfortunately, it took many difficult experiences for me to understand them.

When I was 17 years old, my grandfather IC passed away a week before my high school graduation. While I had experienced heartbreak before when my Uncle Lee passed away in 2013, losing my grandfather was a pain I never imagined I would feel. My grandfather and I were very close, and 10 years later, I still cannot think about him without needing a moment to shed a tear.

His passing made me want to spend more time with my family and stay close to home, but I never shared how difficult it was for me or how much I hated that he was no longer here.

Three years later, I lost my grandfather Munir, and this time I was angry and filled with regret. I had just graduated with my associate's degree and was preparing to begin my bachelor's program that August. I was angry at the world, and I found myself questioning Allah. I began to turn away from the very thing my grandfather loved most: this teaching.

No matter how many times I heard, "The only way to escape death is not to be born," those words meant absolutely nothing to me, and they never eased my pain. I searched for comfort everywhere except in this teaching. For a while, I wore a mask of happiness while, deep down inside, I was depressed, lost, and struggling to find peace of mind. Instead of facing it, I settled for temporary happiness.

When I reflect on that period of my life, I always return to Surah 2, verse 216 of the Holy Qur'an:

"It may be that you dislike a thing while it is good for you, and it may be that you love a thing while it is evil for you; and Allah knows while you know not."

I had tunnel vision. I wanted the path that felt easiest. I wanted to be carefree, even when that path was more harmful than the one that would have benefited my growth and development.

Looking back, it was the most insecure I have ever felt in my life. I would wake up in the morning and feel cursed that I had to live another day in my own skin. I did not enjoy school. I did not enjoy working. I felt like every day was meaningless.

I remember going to the doctor and being told that I was suffering from mild depression. I also remember my father telling me that I wasn't depressed, that I just hadn't accomplished anything yet. At the time, I felt that his response was dismissive of my mental health, even though I had never truly disclosed what I was battling. Deep down, though, I knew there was truth in what he was saying.

What had I really done?

I had not even discovered my purpose. I was pretending every day. I was not living in my truth, nor was I reflecting all of the beautiful things that had been instilled in me. His words got my wheels turning, but they didn't move me entirely. I found myself wanting to graduate simply so I could say I had accomplished something, but I still wasn't where I needed to be.

Unfortunately, it took me getting into a car accident at two o'clock in the morning on Father's Day in 2021 to truly wake me up.

That night was one of the worst nights of my life, and it all happened because I trusted a friend and wanted to keep another one safe. I remember how scared I was. I remember seeing my car catch on fire while I was still inside. I remember fighting to get out of that car because I wanted to save my life.

I wanted to live.

In that moment, I realized just how important life really was. Suddenly, all of those days I had spent angry because I woke up seemed so insignificant because, when the time came, I didn't want to die.

Following that accident, I lost several friends in car accidents, and every time I thought about them, I couldn't help but think, "That could have been me."

I thought about my loved ones. While it made me sad, it also pushed me to become better. My motivation shifted from simply wanting to be successful to wanting to become someone my parents would be proud of. I wanted them to know that they had done their job and that they had done it well.

That became my greatest motivation.

The following summer, I graduated with my bachelor's degree, took a gap year, and found love in a career I never thought I would enjoy. Ironically, it was a career I initially ran away from but eventually returned to a few years later.

During that time, I fell back in love with myself, and I fell back in love with the teachings of the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad.

I found truth in Surah 65, verse 3:

"And whoever trusts in Allah, He is sufficient for him. Surely Allah attains His purpose. Allah indeed has appointed a measure for everything."

I learned that I could trust Allah during times of doubt and hardship and that I could submit to His will because He truly is the Best Knower.

I also began to enjoy coming to C.R.O.E. It felt like home. I was surrounded by people who had watched me grow up and who had poured so much into me. One day a week, I was able to be in an environment that felt like home outside of my own home.

My journey led me to accept who I am, and the blessings began to pour in. I still experienced difficult times, but I was stronger.

I found myself reading more. My relationships became stronger. I became more confident, and I found myself remembering things my father had said that helped me navigate difficult moments.

I remember finding my favorite verse in the Holy Qur'an. I was so excited that I wanted to share it with everyone because I had finally begun reading with intention. I found something I could always carry with me and use as a reminder.

Surah 94 says:

"Have We not expanded for thee thy breast, and removed from thee thy burden, which weighed down thy back, and exalted for thee thy mention? Surely with difficulty is ease; with difficulty is surely ease. So when thou art free from anxiety, work hard, and make thy Lord thy exclusive object."

To me, it reflected everything I had experienced.

I opened my heart to Allah. I became honest with myself, and everything suddenly felt like a lighter burden to carry. No matter what I experienced, I knew I could put my trust in Allah while also doing the things I was supposed to do, and I would always be okay.

Now, I am one month away from my 28th birthday.

I have just graduated with my master's degree in Applied Behavior Analysis, and I am happy.

I no longer view life as a punishment. Instead, I wake up each day looking forward to helping others. I found my peace of mind, and, most importantly, I became a reflection of what self-love looks like. I became a reflection of what my name means.

For that, I am forever grateful.

There is no question that I have been blessed with an incredible support system made up of family and friends, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I did not acknowledge the two people who have shaped me more than anyone else: my parents.

The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad wrote in Message to the Blackman in America, "First, my people must be taught the knowledge of self. Then and only then will they be able to understand others and that which surrounds them." That quote has taken on a completely different meaning for me over the years because, as I learned more about myself, I also began to better understand my parents, their sacrifices, their experiences, and the many ways they have loved and supported me, even when I did not fully recognize it.

My father, Jamil Muhammad, may not realize it until he reads these words, but he saved me in more ways than one. He has always been my best friend, my biggest protector, and one of the few people I know I can always turn to without hesitation. I have always gravitated toward my father because, in so many ways, I am just like him. The title of "Daddy's little girl" is one I carry close to my heart because it represents a relationship that has helped shape so much of who I am.

I appreciate that I have never felt like I needed to hold back how I was feeling when talking to him. I can be completely honest, even when I know difficult questions or feedback are coming and even when I do not necessarily want to hear them. Over time, I have come to understand the importance of those conversations. He taught me that it is not enough to simply say how you feel. You should also be able to explain why you feel that way and why you make the choices you do. That lesson has helped me become a better communicator and has given me the confidence to advocate not only for myself but for others as well.

I am grateful that he has always trusted me to come to him when I truly need help, even though I did not always do so during some of my most vulnerable moments. There were times when I chose to carry my pain alone because I did not want to burden him with what I was feeling. Because of how close we are, I also recognized that he was grieving in his own way, and instead of leaning on him, I hid.

Yet, even without knowing the extent of what I was going through, he was still there. That is something I will never take for granted. I know now that there is nothing too heavy for me to bring to him. Even if he cannot solve every problem for me, he can always guide me and help me find my own way through it. Thank you for teaching me independence, for reminding me that strength does not mean carrying everything alone, and for always being someone I can depend on.

My mother, Pantder, has supported me in a completely different but equally meaningful way. She has always been willing to go the extra mile, always found ways to make me feel beautiful, and never stopped reminding me that she was there whenever I needed her. Even when I rejected her attempts to get me to talk about how I was feeling, she remained patient. She continued checking in, continued showing up, and continued reminding me that I did not have to go through life alone.

Through the experiences she has shared with me, I have come to understand her in ways I once did not. I have also learned that her love has always been present, even during moments when I did not fully recognize it. Looking back, I can now appreciate the many ways she has shown that love through her patience, her persistence, and her unwavering support.

Whether they realize it or not, both of my parents have contributed to every part of the woman I have become. They helped shape my confidence, my work ethic, my resilience, and the strength I rely on to navigate this world while remaining true to myself as a Muslim follower of the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad.

While everything I do is ultimately for my own peace of mind and happiness, they are the reason I am here, and I will always want them to feel proud of the woman I am and everything I have overcome.

They are my foundation, my pillars, and a constant reminder of where I come from. Their love, guidance, sacrifices, and support have helped me become a reflection of what my name means: lively and prosperous, precious, and worthy of praise.