If You Can’t Fast, Give 

Maysoon Zayid 

I was born and raised in the United States. I spent my school days in beautiful New Jersey and my summers in the war zone known as the West Bank. The first Ramadan I ever fasted was no joke. I was eight years old and on summer vacation in my parents’ village. It was late June, and the Middle East is a sauna at that time of year. During Ramadan, those observing the fast abstain from food, beverages, smoking, and kissing. I have never had an issue with fasting. I’m one of those crazy Muslims who loves Ramadan. 

I have cerebral palsy. That means that technically I am exempt from fasting, even though it is one of the five pillars of Islam and extremely important to the faith. The Qur’an states clearly in Surah 2, Ayat 185 that those who have medical conditions are pardoned, so I was treated like a champ for fasting. My family was over the moon, and I refused to show any weakness. I knew that by fasting against the odds I had been born with, I’d totally get into heaven and, more important, would get amazing gifts for Eid. Eid is the celebration that marks the end of fasting. Muslims celebrate for three days, because after thirty days of fasting, one day simply isn’t enough. 

Regardless of the heat, it’s fun to fast for Ramadan when you are in a country where the majority of folks around you are also starving. Ramadan is not as much fun in America, where you are the only one fasting. In my day, teachers weren’t as culturally savvy as they are now. I had teachers who genuinely feared for my life and were convinced that I was being forced by my horrible Muslim parents to fast. They’d try to slip me a butterscotch candy at lunchtime. I would shove their candy away and tell them not to push their beliefs on me. I could eat whatever I wanted at sunset, thank you very much. 

Every Ramadan, without fail, my mother has given me the option to not fast. Those who cannot fast during Ramadan get to make a donation that will feed a hungry person for the duration of the holy month. If you cannot afford to do so, you should instead perform any acts of charity within your capability. My mom has donated on my behalf every single year I have fasted, just in case it ever got to be too much and I had to give up. How is that for faith? 

My most challenging Ramadan came in the form of a ten-day road trip in 2011, in America’s Deep South, on a comedy tour called “The Muslims Are Coming.” Ramadan, which moves back ten days each year, happened to land in August. I was filming a documentary in addition to performing nightly. We would spend all day on the street doing interviews with the locals, who weren’t too fond of Muslims. For the first time in my history of Ramadans, I complained. I was hot, thirsty, and tired of bigotry. Some nights I didn’t break my fast until 10:30 p.m., but I survived. I broke down and broke my fast only once on tour. We were at Elvis’s house in Tupelo, Mississippi. The statue of the King spoke to me and I realized if I didn’t drink water I would drop down dead just like he did. I did not want to die where Elvis was born. It’s okay to miss a day or five, if you are sick or traveling, or are on your ladies’ holiday. You then have a whole year to make it up. Some Muslims are slick and do their makeup days in December when the sun sets at, like, 4:30 p.m. and they have to fast for only six or seven hours. 

On July 10, 2013, after three decades, my days of fasting came to an end. As I mentioned, I have cerebral palsy. One of my symptoms is that I shake all the...