<< From the AltMuslimah Archives >> I sat cross-legged on the thick carpet in my parents’ bedroom making my way through a bowl of watermelon slices. Creases had formed on my embroidered tea pink shalwar, and had my mother or great aunt walked into the room, they would have reproached me for lounging on the floor and ruining the crisp, freshly ironed lines of my outfit. As it were though, they, along with my father, sat downstairs in the formal living room meeting with a potential suitor for me.