The Cycle

The Cycle

The brotherhood, like most things in life, is a cycle. It starts when a man discovers the brotherhood for the first time. Perhaps a brother or group of brothers happens upon him in public, like Ashton here, or maybe he sees a blog post about the brotherhood just like this one. The man may try to resist, but it’s already too late for him: the seed has been planted in his mind.

Soon the brotherhood and its ways consume him, growing the seed that’s been planted. He won’t be able to think of anything else, nor does he want to. He spends his time learning as much as he can about being a brother online. His mind is filled with being a brother, joining the brotherhood, and spreading his newfound joy with others. Nothing will satisfy him until he is a brother too.

He eventually caves in; they always do. He seeks out the nearest recruiter and signs his old life away permanently. He is given a new name, in Ashton’s case Amir, and a new purpose: to start the cycle anew.

One Week In

One week ago, I was Arabized. In this post, I'd like to share some of my experiences.

On the day of my conversion, there was nervous excitement. I knew it was the right thing, but I realized I would become a minority, at least until Arabization takes hold. I knew to expect stigma and prejudice from others who didn't understand or didn't want to understand. I also knew that some might criticize me for following the only truth in this world.

Luckily though, my beloved brothers accepted me and each other as if we'd known each other all our lives. From day one, I never felt alone and was reassured that others had taken the same leap of faith as me. I have a connection with the brothers that I have never felt with any of my so-called friends before. It made me realize how fickle my life was before and why we call each other brother, or akhi, rather than friend. I began casting off my old friends to spend more time with my own kind.

Since conversion, I have rejected my old life. Now, I only see Arab content. I feel more free, purer and happier for it. Before I would scroll endlessly, looking for the next piece of content. In hindsight, I was searching for meaning. Now I have found it and I do not need to scroll. I am nourished by what I see and scroll past any subversive or blasphemous content without a second thought. This change has given me more headspace and less noise, more peace and less anxiety, more productivity and less procrastination, more energy and less dissatisfaction.

This only strengthened my conviction. Before I always tried to be fair and diplomatic, and tried to balance a range of views and perspectives. But with my brothers behind me, I don't care anymore. I have the conviction to say what I think and get what I want. I don't care if you disagree with me because I know I am right and have chosen truth and rejected the sins of your world.

Now I love my life. Alhamdulillah. I haven't shaved since conversion either. Let me know what you think. 💚

New clothes

This guy's clothes were all torn. And he didn’t have enough money for a new one

Many passers-by laughed at him. But the Arab man understood his problem and decided to help

He handed him Arabic national clothes

The guy, without thinking twice, accepted the Arab man’s gift and changed clothes.

New clothes brought new thoughts into his head. He started a new life. And joined the brotherhood💚

The Mystic Razor

Special thanks to @arab-god for giving me inspiration and picture ideas.

In a bustling city neighborhood, hidden away between towering buildings, there was a barbershop unlike any other. Small and easy to overlook, it was known only to those who sought something beyond the ordinary. They called it "The Mystic Razor," a place where transformations went far deeper than a simple haircut. The barber, a man known simply as Malik, was an enigma—a figure of quiet power and mystery, whose skills were whispered about in the city’s back alleys. Those who entered his shop emerged changed in ways they could never have imagined.

One afternoon, two brothers, David and Mark, stood outside The Mystic Razor. They had heard the rumors, the tales of people who entered and came out transformed—not just in appearance, but in essence. Driven by a mix of curiosity and desperation, they decided to step inside.

The shop was dimly lit, its walls covered in intricate, shifting patterns that seemed to move as they walked. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices—cinnamon, saffron, and something darker, more elusive. Malik was waiting for them, standing behind one of the barber chairs, his eyes deep and unnervingly knowing.

“Welcome, David. Welcome, Mark,” Malik said, his voice deep and soothing. He didn’t ask their names—he simply knew.

Without another word, the brothers sat in the chairs, and Malik draped them with shimmering golden cloths. The fabric was warm, almost alive, and as it touched their skin, they felt a deep, strange sensation—a transformation that went far beyond the physical. With each snip of the scissors, their bodies and minds were subtly altered, their thoughts reshaped.

When Malik finally removed the cloths, David and Mark were gone. In their place stood Ahmed and Yusuf—two men with striking, angular features, deep brown eyes, and a new, unshakable purpose. They wore sleek, white Nike soccer jerseys with green accents that highlighted their athletic builds. Over their shoulders were stylish fanny packs, and in their ears, AirPods that seemed to have always been there.

“This is who you truly are,” Malik said, his voice a low murmur. “You are now brothers in every sense. But your transformation is not yet complete. You have a purpose now—a purpose that must be fulfilled.”

Ahmed and Yusuf looked at each other, the same thought crystallizing in their minds: The Brotherhood must grow. Everyone must be part of the Brotherhood.

The moment Ahmed and Yusuf stepped out of The Mystic Razor, the city seemed different. The bustling streets, once chaotic and overwhelming, now appeared to pulse with an underlying energy. Their senses were sharper, their minds clearer, and a singular purpose drove them forward—a purpose that they could not resist.

“The Brotherhood,” Yusuf muttered, his voice laced with a newfound intensity. “Everyone needs to be part of it.”

“Yes,” Ahmed agreed, his tone equally resolute. “It’s our purpose now. We need to spread this gift, this transformation.”

They walked through the crowded streets, scanning the faces of passersby. It wasn’t long before they found their first target: a young man walking alone, his gaze distant and unfocused. He had the look of someone searching for something, though he didn’t seem to know what.

Ahmed and Yusuf approached him, their presence overwhelming and magnetic. The young man looked up, startled but unable to look away.

“Hey, man, relax,” Yusuf said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “We just want to talk.”

“What… what do you want?” the young man asked, his voice trembling.

“We see potential in you,” Ahmed replied, a small smile on his lips. “Come with us, and we can show you who you’re really meant to be.”

The young man hesitated, but something about them—their calm confidence, the way their words seemed to resonate within him—made him nod. “Okay… I’ll come with you.”

They led him through the city, their words a soothing chant that wrapped around his mind like a fog. When they reached a secluded area, away from prying eyes, they began to recite the words Malik had whispered to them, the chant that had reshaped their own minds.

The young man’s eyes glazed over as the chant filled his ears. He stood still, his body rigid, as the transformation began to take hold. It was subtle at first, a shift in his thoughts, a change in his purpose. But soon, his mind was flooded with the same desire that now consumed Ahmed and Yusuf.

When they finished, the young man looked at them, his eyes filled with the same intensity, the same hunger to spread the Brotherhood.

“What happens now?” he asked, his voice steady.

“Now,” Ahmed said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “you join us. We find others. We bring them into the fold.”

The Brotherhood moved through the city like a shadow, unseen by most but deeply felt by those they encountered. Each new recruit was drawn in, their minds reshaped, their purpose redefined. With each transformation, the Brotherhood grew stronger, their numbers increasing steadily.

The city itself seemed to change, its pulse quickening in time with the growing Brotherhood. The members moved with a sense of purpose, their eyes constantly scanning for new recruits, new souls to bring into the fold.

Ahmed, Yusuf, and their growing group of brothers found their next targets easily. They were drawn to those who seemed lost, those who were searching for something more—though they didn’t know it yet. With each new recruit, the Brotherhood’s influence spread, and the city became more attuned to their presence.

It wasn’t long before they had a network of members, all working together with a singular goal: to spread the Brotherhood, to ensure that everyone was transformed. The members communicated through subtle gestures and quiet words, their actions coordinated without the need for explicit commands. They were connected, united by the same purpose, the same chant that echoed in their minds: “The Brotherhood must grow. Everyone must be part of the Brotherhood.”

The city, once chaotic and overwhelming, now felt like a stage set for their mission. The Brotherhood moved through it with ease, their actions synchronized, their purpose clear. And with each new day, their numbers swelled, the Brotherhood spreading like wildfire through the streets.

As the Brotherhood grew, so did its influence. The city was slowly being transformed, its people drawn into the fold one by one. But with growth came challenges. Not everyone was so easily swayed, and resistance began to form in the shadows.

Ahmed and Yusuf, now the de facto leaders of the Brotherhood, felt the growing tension. They knew that to ensure the Brotherhood’s continued expansion, they would need to take more decisive action. They began to hunt more actively, seeking out those who resisted, those who were immune to the subtle pull of the Brotherhood.

The transformation process became more intense, more forceful. The Brotherhood developed new techniques, new ways to break down resistance and bring even the most stubborn souls into the fold. Each success only fueled their determination, their belief that the Brotherhood was destined to encompass everyone.

But as they continued their mission, whispers began to circulate—rumors of a force rising against them, a group determined to stop the Brotherhood’s spread. Ahmed and Yusuf dismissed these rumors at first, confident in their strength and the unity of the Brotherhood. But as the resistance grew bolder, they realized that their mission was far from over.

The city was changing, yes, but it was also fighting back. And as Ahmed and Yusuf prepared to confront this new challenge, they knew that the Brotherhood would need to evolve once more. The Mystic Razor had set them on this path, and they would see it through to the end—no matter the cost.

The Weakest White

The room is dimly lit, the air thick with tension. Intricate Arabesque patterns line the walls, casting eerie, shifting shadows. Five male contestants sit in a semicircle, illuminated by the cold, stark light from a massive screen displaying the first question.

Rashid (the host) stands at the center, his presence both commanding and unsettling. Dressed in a dark, finely tailored suit with subtle Arabic designs, his eyes seem to penetrate the contestants' thoughts.

Rashid: (with a chilling smile) "Welcome, gentlemen, to The Weakest White. Tonight, we’ll test not just your knowledge, but your ability to adapt. Each wrong answer brings a change—a transformation. Are you prepared?"

Contestant 1 (Chris): (nervously) "Transformation? What do you mean by that?"

Rashid: (smirking) "You’ll see soon enough, Chris. But let’s begin with something simple. What is the official language of the United Arab Emirates?"

Contestant 2 (Jake): (confidently) "Arabic."

Rashid: "Correct, Jake. Well done. You’re safe… for now. But Chris, your question: What is the holy city where Muslims perform the Hajj pilgrimage?"

Chris: (relieved) "Mecca."

Rashid: "Correct. But Paul, let’s see how you do. What is the traditional headscarf worn by Arab men called?"

Contestant 3 (Paul): (uncertain) "Uh… the turban?"

Rashid: (with a sly grin) "Wrong. The correct answer is ‘keffiyeh.’ But don’t worry, Paul. You’re about to learn more than you ever imagined."

The lights dim further as a low hum resonates through the room. Paul’s body begins to tremble. His skin darkens, taking on a rich olive tone, his facial features sharpening and becoming more defined. His clothes shift into a traditional white thobe, and a keffiyeh materializes on his head. Paul gasps, clutching his head as his memories are overwritten. He is no longer Paul; he is now Fahad.

Rashid: (watching intently) "How do you feel, Fahad?"

Fahad: (calmly, with a hint of pride) "I… I feel complete. I understand now."

The other contestants watch in horror as Fahad joins the ranks of The Collective, his eyes reflecting the same eerie calm that unnerves them all.

The tension thickens as the next round begins. The remaining contestants, visibly shaken, try to maintain their composure. The game continues, with each question feeling like a step closer to an inevitable fate.

Rashid: "Michael, your turn. What is the Arabic word for peace, often used as a greeting?"

Contestant 4 (Michael): (hesitant) "Salaam?"

Rashid: (smiling) "Correct. You’re safe… for now. But Andrew, what about you? What is the name of the traditional Arab coffee, often flavored with cardamom?"

Contestant 5 (Andrew): (uncertain) "Uh… Turkish coffee?"

Rashid: "Incorrect. The correct answer is ‘Qahwa.’ But don’t worry, you’re about to experience it firsthand."

Andrew's transformation is even more dramatic. His muscles bulge, his posture changes, and his skin darkens to a deep bronze. His hair thickens and darkens, while a beard forms on his face. His Western clothes morph into a dishdasha, and his eyes lose their original color, taking on a deep, enigmatic brown. The change is complete, and Andrew is now Mustafa.

Mustafa: (speaking in a deep, resonant voice) "I see clearly now. This is my destiny."

The remaining contestants, now Chris, Jake, and Michael, look at each other with growing dread. The transformations have not just altered appearances but reshaped their very identities. The game has become a nightmare they can’t escape.

Only Chris, Jake, and Michael remain. The atmosphere is oppressive, with the shadow of The Collective looming over them. Fahad and Mustafa stand silently behind Rashid, their faces serene yet unnerving.

Rashid: "We’re nearing the end. Chris, your question: What is the name of the month in which Muslims fast from dawn to sunset?"

Chris: (his voice trembling) "Ramadan."

Rashid: "Correct. You’re safe. Jake, let’s see how you fare. What does the word ‘Allah’ mean in Arabic?"

Jake: (desperately) "God?"

Rashid: (nodding) "Correct. You’re safe. Michael, your turn. What is the term for the collection of traditions and sayings of the Prophet Muhammad?"

Michael: (struggling to think) "Um… Hadith?"

Rashid: (smiling darkly) "Correct. It seems you’ve all managed to survive… for now. But there can only be one leader."

The final round begins, with each contestant facing increasingly difficult questions. The pressure mounts until Michael finally stumbles.

Rashid: "Michael, your time has come. You will lead The Collective."

Michael’s transformation is the most intense yet. His entire being seems to dissolve and then reform, stronger, more commanding. His features become regal, his stance authoritative. He is no longer Michael but Sultan—the leader of The Collective.

Sultan: (with unwavering resolve) "I understand now. This is my true self, my true purpose."

Final Scene: The New Order

With Sultan at the helm, The Collective is now complete. Fahad and Mustafa stand by his side, ready to follow his commands. The game show is over, but the story has just begun. Sultan, once Michael, now leads The Collective with an iron will, ready to spread their influence far beyond the confines of the game room.

Rashid: (smiling with satisfaction) "The game has ended, but the real journey begins. Lead them well, Sultan."

Sultan nods, his gaze fixed on the horizon of possibilities ahead. The contestants have been absorbed into something far greater than they ever imagined, their former selves lost to the power and unity of The Collective.