Rifqa Bary: My Reflection on a Controversy from My Time at CAIR-Columbus
By Bobby Darvish - darvishintelligence.blogspot.com
The year was 2009, and I found myself at the center of one of the most contentious religious and cultural controversies in America. At the time, I was serving as the Executive Director of the Columbus chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR). The media storm that surrounded the case of Rifqa Bary—a teenage girl who fled her Muslim home in Ohio, claiming she feared for her life after converting to Christianity—touched a deep chord in many people, both in the Muslim and Christian communities. The case sparked a national debate over religious freedom, parental rights, and apostasy in Islam.
As a Muslim leader, many would have expected me to publicly support her family and stand in defense of the Islamic principles being questioned. But even then, despite my position, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rifqa was doing the right thing. That feeling, though unspoken at the time, came from a place that was already growing within me—a discomfort with certain elements of Islam, especially when it came to individual freedom of belief.
The Rifqa Bary Case: A Clash of Cultures and Faith
For those who may not remember, Rifqa Bary was a 17-year-old Sri Lankan-born girl who fled her home after converting to Christianity. She claimed her Muslim father would kill her due to her apostasy, a serious offense in some interpretations of Islamic law. This led to a fierce legal battle between her parents, who denied the accusations, and the Florida foster care system, which took her in temporarily.
As a high-profile figure in the Muslim community, I was frequently asked to comment on the case, and CAIR took a public stance of support for Rifqa's family, dismissing her claims as a misunderstanding. However, behind closed doors, my feelings were far more complicated.
My Struggles with the Situation
At that time, I was still deeply embedded in the Muslim community, having led prayers, spoken at mosques, and acted as a representative for Islamic advocacy. Yet, there was something about this case that unsettled me. I knew, from my own experiences growing up and from witnessing countless stories within the Muslim community, that the pressure to conform to the faith, especially when it came to leaving it, could be intense.
Rifqa’s story resonated with me on a personal level. While I was publicly defending the family's Islamic values, I found myself empathizing with the young girl who wanted nothing more than the freedom to follow her heart. Her courage reminded me of my own journey, though it would take several more years for me to finally leave Islam and embrace Christianity. But even in 2009, when I was still outwardly a devout Muslim, I could not deny the validity of her fears.
I knew well enough the realities of apostasy in Islam. The Qur’an itself speaks of grave consequences for those who leave the faith (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:217), and throughout Islamic history, there have been harsh interpretations and legal rulings regarding apostates. While many Muslims in America would never dream of physically harming a family member for leaving Islam, the cultural and social backlash can be devastating. For Rifqa, I understood that her fear was not simply a fabrication, but a reality rooted in the broader context of Islamic law and community expectations.
A Turning Point for My Own Faith
Even as I defended the Muslim community’s stance on the surface, deep down, this controversy contributed to my own spiritual crisis. I had begun to question the very principles I was advocating for. How could I continue to support a belief system that didn't allow individuals the freedom to choose their own path without fear of retribution? How could I, in good conscience, stand behind a faith that would make a young girl feel so desperate that she would run away from home, fearing for her life?
The Rifqa Bary case was one of the many catalysts that eventually led me to leave Islam in 2013. Her bravery forced me to reflect on my own beliefs and how far I was willing to go to maintain my identity within a religion that was beginning to feel increasingly incompatible with my understanding of God, freedom, and personal conscience.
A Reflection on Apostasy and Religious Freedom
In retrospect, my role as Executive Director of CAIR-Columbus during this controversy was a paradox. Outwardly, I was a defender of Islam, but internally, I was beginning to unravel. I now believe that every person should have the right to choose their faith freely, without fear of coercion or punishment. In the United States, we are blessed with the constitutional right to religious freedom, a right that many people, like Rifqa, must fight to exercise.
Looking back, I am grateful for Rifqa’s courage. She made a stand for her faith, even when it seemed impossible. And while my path took a few more years to reach the light of Christ, I now realize that my empathy for her, even as a Muslim, was a sign that God was already working in my heart.
Conclusion
The Rifqa Bary controversy was a watershed moment for many, myself included. It revealed the clash between cultural norms and the values of religious freedom that this country was built upon. Today, as a Christian, I can see with clarity what I could only feel back then—that the right to follow Jesus Christ, or any faith, is a fundamental human right that should never be suppressed.
In the end, Rifqa's courage helped light the way for my own journey to Christianity, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Citations:
- "The Apostasy Laws in Islam: An Analysis of Qur'anic Verses and Historical Practice." Journal of Islamic Studies, Vol. 17, No. 3 (2009).
- Goodstein, Laurie. "Teenage Runaway Converts to Christianity." The New York Times, August 12, 2009.
- Associated Press. "Rifqa Bary Wins Legal Battle to Stay in Florida Foster Care." USA Today, October 2009.
- "Islam and Apostasy: Perspectives from Sharia." Encyclopedia of Islamic Law (2010).
- Bary, Rifqa. Hiding in the Light: Why I Risked Everything to Leave Islam and Follow Jesus. WaterBrook, 2015.
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