The clock on the wall of Kaplan Test-Prep Center in Austin, Texas points to 6:30; ten minutes left until the time for Asr (afternoon prayer) ends. Sixteen-year-old Amir glances at his wrist watch, worried that his SAT preparation class won’t end in time. He knows he should probably leave the session early so he doesn’t miss prayer, but the thought of getting up in front of everyone and leaving the room makes him nervous. “What will they think of me,” he wonders anxiously. He decides to stay and misses the prayer.

Meanwhile, at a movie theatre in downtown Los Angeles, 17-year-old Khadeeja waits at a parking lot to meet up with some friends for pizza. Her cell phone rings; it’s her mother. Khadeeja’s boyfriend’s car approaches from around the corner; she looks frantically at her ringing phone again and presses ignore. She takes the front seat next to Brad and recites a short prayer to herself, hoping her mother doesn’t call again while she is with him.

Across the country in Queens, N.Y., 15-year-old Bilal walks out of a movie theatre with his older cousin Hussain and his friend Sam. They get into Hussain’s car and head off. It only takes them ten minutes to arrive at their destination, a place Bilal has never been to before. Though a bit confused, Bilal nonetheless follows Hussain and Sam into Club Tobago. He could smell the alcohol from before he even entered. “Ready to get drunk, Billy?” Hussain slides a small shot glass over to Bilal; it’s the first time the teen has drank. It won’t be his last time.

In Dove Creek, Colo., 14-year-old Amina takes out her schedule and notices she’ll be five minutes late to geometry class. What a great way to start her first day at a new school, she thinks. She finds the room and takes a deep breath before entering, anxious of what might come. They stared at her of course. First for a few seconds, then for a few minutes; it seemed like it would never stop. The piercing ogles gave her chills. As class ends, Amina packs her things, adjusts the pins on her headscarf and darts to the door, trying her best to ignore the giggles that followed her out.

For Amir, Khadeeja, Bilal, and Amina, growing up as a Muslim teenager in America is an overwhelming task – sometimes a blessing, other times a confusing battle between self-identity and the expectations of others.

Amidst rock bands and calculus homework, tight jeans and headscarves, beer and pepperoni, parental expectations and religious obligations, Muslim teens in America today are faced with more challenges than ever before, and Sept. 11, 2001 has not made the task any less daunting.

Many people fail to realize that teens are faced with the vast burden of sorting out their Muslim individualities while finding unique ways to fit into a society that knows little about them and holds a host of impressions upon them.
 
“Adolescence is a time of self discovery and finding a niche in society for where one belongs,” writes 15-year-old Sarah Mandvi of Whittier, Calif. for the local newspaper. “However, the life of a Muslim teenager is dissimilar in many aspects, such as praying punctually five times a day, and maintaining the principles that accumulate to the final judgment day, for which all sacrifices are rewarded with eternal paradise.” 

Dr. Louis Abdellatif Cristillo, a professor at Teachers College at Columbia University, studied experiences of Muslim boys and girls in New York City public high schools in a three-year research initiative. Funded by the Ford Foundation, the project collected data on how the post-9/11 school climate has impacted the lives and attitudes of youth, especially in regard to their personal identification as Muslims and Americans.