Looking back, I see no particular time or event that, in one stroke, severed my link with Islam. There was nothing nearly as dramatic as what reportedly happened to Paul on the road to Damascus transforming him from a rabid Christian persecutor to a devoted follower of Jesus.

My alienation with Islam started as far back as I could discern things. More to the point, I never embraced Islam in the first place, although I was born and raised in a Muslim family.

I believe in a modified version of Occam’s razor, popularly known as the law of parsimony. To me, an explanation with the fewest assumptions is either the correct one or the preferable one. The best answers, more often than not, are the simple answers.

My search for answers has taken me on a journey of discovery in the competing, crowded, and confusing marketplace of ideas. I noticed a universal human need to believe in some power or forces beyond ourselves and beyond the finite and the corporal. If there were no God, we humans would make one up, it is said. In order to satisfy this seemingly innate need, three major contentions have emerged: Rejection-ism, characterized by dismissing any and all gods; Theism, positing a god who created the universe, set it in motion, and let it play out without interfering in it; and God-ism, with many gods, that demanded a super-god to sort them out.

Of the three camps, God-ism seemed to me the most attractive and troubling at the same time. And Islam’s God-ism—Allah-ism—steeped in superstition, replete with nonsensical explanations, and discriminatory Sharia law, repulsed me. All I needed to guide my life was contained in the ancient Zoroastrian triad of good thoughts, good speech, and good deeds. The Ten Commandments are a sensible extension of the above triad and the Universal Charter of Human Rights is its further elaboration.

Things Islamic not only did not resonate with me, they often clashed head on with what I valued and loved. What appealed to me and even enchanted me were more often than not taboo in Islam or anathema to the creed. I loved life, beauty in all its forms, poetry, the ancient Iranian culture and traditions. I loved laughter, celebrations of joy such as birthdays, our yearly festivities of Nowruz, my favorite that lasts for thirteen days. Nowruz, this ancient festival, has been celebrated for thousands of years by my people; it ushers in the spring, welcomes renewal of life, and expresses optimism for the year ahead to bless us with good health, abundant food, family, and friends in the land of a civilized free people.

I owe my parents a great debt of gratitude for not pounding into me a blind belief. They allowed, and even encouraged me to think for myself, to chart my path in life. Father was my model. He treated Mother and the girls as unquestioned equals. Mother, by her deeds, taught me that my friends, who happened to be Muslims, Jews, Christians, Baha’is and Zoroastrians, were every bit as worthy and Iranian as we were. She welcomed them all to our home and often at our table.

From very early on, I was troubled by Islam. It labeled people who were all alike differently and built walls separating them instead of bringing them together. Islam, the dominant religion of my native country, stigmatized non-Muslims and even persecuted them. I began questioning the value of religion. I couldn’t see much in Islam that attracted me and I knew just about nothing regarding the religion of my friends and neighbors. I sought answers, not from the mullah at the mosque because I had a feeling I wouldn’t like his answer anyway. I had heard their line more than I cared to. I began reading as widely as I could and it helped.

I discovered that, historically, as far as it can be determined, all human groups lived by codes of beliefs. The codes were far from universally uniform, either in context or formality. Yet, they all served the critical function of prescribing behaviors that enhanced the welfare of the group while proscribing those that undermined it. In tandem with the emergence of the code of conduct was the practice of rituals. While the code of conduct secured order within the group, rituals gave it a sense of identity, essential for solidarity of the “in-group” against the ever-present threats of the “out-group.”