The Cost of Dissent - When Identity and Faith Collide (Part 2)

Rizvi recounts the tragic story of Irtaza Hussain, a young ex-Muslim in the UK, whose atheism led to estrangement from his father and, eventually, to his suicide:

"His atheism led to a worsening of his already somewhat contentious relationship with his father… He had taken the picture himself. Only his legs were visible, the camera was pointing down toward the ground, and a light blue rope fashioned into a noose was partially visible in the frame, hanging from his neck."

Hussain's story, and many others like it, reflect the darker side of leaving faith. It's not just a rejection of doctrine; it's an unraveling of social and familial connections. When belief systems are so deeply embedded in a person's sense of identity, walking away often feels like walking into a void.

We need to ask ourselves: What kind of system requires such an extreme price for independent thought? When the simple act of leaving a faith comes with the potential for ostracism, threats, and psychological devastation, is it truly a belief system rooted in compassion, justice, or truth? Or is it an ideological prison, one that wraps itself so tightly around identity that disentangling the two leads to ruin?

The weight of religion's identity-politics amalgam is most visible in young ex-Muslims. As Rizvi points out, the disorientation, anxiety, and depression that follows their departure from faith is alarmingly common. They are thrust into a void, where a previously prescribed moral compass has vanished, leaving them to piece together a new sense of self. How can we pretend this is the outcome of a mere intellectual disagreement?

The intersection of ideology and identity is one of the most sinister aspects of religion. Belief is not merely a private affair - it seeps into culture, law, and community expectations. To dissent is to risk being cast out. And yet, for those of us who can no longer accept the contradictions and injustices within our former faith, the price of staying silent is just as high.

Leaving Islam - and religion in general - requires tremendous courage. It means stepping away from the comfort of certainty and the security of belonging, to venture into the unknown. The experience of doubt is often minimized within religious communities, dismissed as a temporary phase. But for those who question deeply, doubt is not a fleeting feeling - it is a chasm that widens with every unanswered question, every contradictory teaching.

In my case, leaving was not just an intellectual exercise; it was an existential one. I am in the journey to build my sense of self, fragment by fragment, outside the framework that had previously defined me. The process is painful, and yet, I find freedom in it. Freedom to think critically, to question without fear, and to redefine morality on my own terms.

Furthermore, the ugliest feature of this entanglement is that it isn't accidental; it's by design. Religions, particularly monotheistic ones, embed themselves into the very essence of who you are - your morality, your culture, your community.

As Rizvi writes:

"One of the ugliest and most sinister aspects of any religion is this intricate entanglement of ideology with identity, and the often dire consequences for those who have the ability and the courage to successfully pry the two apart."

Now, imagine the courage it takes to walk away from that. How open would any of us be to changing our minds if the cost was this high?