Arab-Canadians in Love: An Ode to Uprooting Traditions

In many Canadian metro cities, Arabs navigate the intricacies of intercultural and interreligious relationships by challenging complex - and sometimes outdated - cultural norms.

Some names and details have been changed for privacy.

By Sarah Samuel

Along with the sun’s warmth, the intensity of the city folk has gone too. It’s a winter night, and people saunter past the almost empty dinner booths at a local bar and grill in Southern Ontario. Waiting for our food, I sip on a martini. My friend Zynah Al Hasheem is holding a glass of ice-chilled lemon water in both hands.

“So, are you going to convert?”

“I don’t think either of us will,” she says with a half-smile. “We want to keep our faiths.”

Zynah is in an interfaith relationship with Aiden Khoury, a Coptic Orthodox Christian man.

“Have you decided to tell your parents yet?” I ask.

“When we are ready.”

Zynah, who is an Arab-Canadian Muslim, says that she does not understand unnecessary barriers to dating people of other faiths. She’s in a pensive mood. Her gaze searches for answers, and with a vulnerable tone, she says, “Why can’t people be happy that I am happy?”

I look away and see one of the hostesses bring over our food. Smiling, I welcome the interruption. “Let’s eat. We’ll stress later.”

Zynah is a 25-year-old, Muslim Canadian woman of Sudanese Lebanese descent. Born in the United States, her parents moved to Canada when she was four-years-old. She has two younger brothers, one of whom is also in an interfaith relationship with a Christian woman of Colombian heritage. Previously, Zynah says that she has dated Muslim and non-Muslim men and that her faith was never a hindrance in finding companionship outside her community.

Aiden is a 27-year-old Egyptian Canadian, who is of Orthodox Coptic faith. He has one sister who is married within the Egyptian Coptic community. Aiden was born in Egypt but was raised in Canada. They met through mutual friends at the University of Toronto, where they both were enrolled at the time. Zynah was completing her undergraduate degree in criminology and Aiden in finance. They first bonded over cultural interests such as listening to Arabic music including that of Nancy Ajram, Myriam Fares and Amr Diab. They’d often share playlists.

In their early courting days, both Zynah and Aiden liked visiting local Arab restaurants. Levant Cafe in Mississauga and Zain al-Sham in Oakville were some of their usual hangouts. Zynah found more similarities in their united “Arab-ness,” even when both of them came from different Arab and religious backgrounds. “At times I even forgot he was from a different religious (Coptic Christian) faith,” says Zynah.

Other than their shared interests, having similar overprotective parents allowed them to exchange their experiences of being brought up as Arab-Canadians. On Eid and Christmas they’d often talk about what foods their moms cooked. Zynah also says that on special occasions, they'd exchange conversations about common Arab mannerisms like their relatives’ enthused interest in eating traditional meals and how their late night stays were both a welcome treat, but simultaneously annoying.

After a short pause, the conversation comes up again as she receives a text from Aiden. Her worried stares turn to a brief smile, before reverting to a frown. To her, the fact that Muslim women are discouraged to marry outside their religion is hypocritical.

In Islam, the Sharia – the body of Islamic religious law – permits a Muslim man to marry Ahl al-Kitāb or The People of the Book, meaning women from Christian and Jewish faiths. But the law doesn’t give out the same ruling for Muslim women, unless the non-Muslim man she wishes to marry converts to Islam.

Confessing to her, I say that even today I’d hesitate to date practicing Muslim men, mostly because the Sharia permits them to re-marry.

“Muslim men can marry four times, actually,” she adds.

“So no one is safe, really?!” I say, smirking.

Zynah’s gleam, like the diminishing daylight, gives way to velvety night, hinting that all is not okay. I hesitate to probe further, and in silence, we admire the beauty of the unveiled stars on a clear winter sky. A sudden realization kicks in that I have an early morning start the next day, so we hug and exchange last smiles.

“Love you,” she says.

Something about her tone strikes me as odd, just like her pauses and pensive silent stares speak on her behalf. Without prying, I hug her.

“Text me when you get home. Drive safe,” I say.

Our heads filled with questions—her about religious norms that complicate love and mine about her brooding mood—we go our separate ways.

In some Arab states, the plight of many interfaith couples is such that their courting season is rife with a myriad of unpleasantries that pertain to the wedding ceremony; future children and how their families could boycott the wedding. The Library of Congress notes that countries in the Arabian Gulf ban unions between a Muslim and a non-Muslim. In Jordan, Qatar, Palestine and Saudi Arabia, some interfaith couples endure social ostracism, public shaming and, in severe instances, death under Sharia law. Other countries within the region can also levy death sentences on mere suspicion.

In 2015, Sudan imprisoned Meriam Ibrahim, a Sudanese Christian woman (whose father was a Muslim) for marrying a Christian man. Her eight-month punishment –which involved birthing a child in shackles–soon culminated in a death sentence. After a global uproar, the Sudanese government released her. Now, she’s a religious freedom activist and resides in the U.S., with her husband and children.

Moreover, civil marriages are still illegal or rejected in many SWANA (SouthWest Asian North African) countries, such as in Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Qatar and more. Although there are some strides being made: the United Arab Emirates began allowing civil family courts to marry and divorce non-Muslim couples starting Feb. 2 of this year. However, we still have a long way to go until we openly embrace interfaith - and intercultural - marriages.

Married life isn't for everyone. But after moving to Canada in 2010, I saw a phenomenon that simultaneously amazed and baffled me - idyllic interfaith unions between Arab-Canadians. In Canada, exogamy (the practice of marrying outside one's religious/cultural group) is more popular than it was 30 years ago. Of course, patterns of conservative religious customs still persist. However, there seems to be more optimism – and fewer serious legal repercussions – around interfaith unions.

“Mixed unions'' refer to couples who do not have the same ethnic origin, the same religion, the same language or the same birthplace. In 2011, 25 per cent of Arabs or West Asians in Canada were in mixed unions, according to an archived Statscan report. This data uses the term, “mixed union” for marriages in which both or one partner belongs to a visible minority group. While many Arabs are visible minorities, some are not. As well, it’s important to note that in 2011, over 80 per cent of Canadians didn’t identify as a visible minority. In 2022, across Canada, 26.5 percent of the population identified as belonging to a visible minority group

Researchers in 2014 found that almost 42 per cent of a young adult student from the sample of 234 Muslim Canadians were in an interfaith relationship. Similarly, data from the Pew Research Centre also suggests that Canada is experiencing a decline in religious identification, which could explain the diminishing social influences of religion. Recently, a Statistics Canada report published in October 2022 found that approximately 12.6 million Canadians, or more than one-third of the population, reported having no religious affiliation. The proportion of this population has more than doubled in 20 years, going from 16.5 per cent in 2001 to 34.6 per cent in 2021.

The numbers seem impressive, but tell half the story. In some communities, interfaith relationships are still shunned. Such is Zynah’s case, where her social and cultural identity is intricately tied to her faith – at least in the minds of her family and friends.

“If a relationship with a non-Muslim man did not work out,” she says, “it was not because of my religion but a personality clash.”

According to Zynah, interfaith relationships are challenging, especially when some community members do all they can to discourage such unions. “When Aiden’s Muslim friends found out that I was Muslim, they tried to convince him I was not the right girl for him because I was breaking the rules of my own religion.” Zynah says that Aiden considered his friends’ concerns at first, but then realized they were doing their best to break them up. In the last eight months, she says that she has tried to learn more about her partner’s Christian Orthodox faith and the persecution of Egyptian Coptic Christians in the Middle East.

While Zynah remains optimistic, Aiden finds it challenging to break away from the Orthodox church, which he feels he must do if he decides to marry outside his faith community. Zynah says that he has been reluctant to tell his family about their year-long relationship and he may be finding ways to delay the news. At first, it had to do with employment concerns. Then it was one of his close family member’s deteriorating health. And then it became about a sudden death of the same family member. The circumstances could not be much worse, says Zynah, but with a sudden resurgence of his faith, their interfaith relationship has become more complicated.

Samira Kanji, director at the Noor Cultural Centre and a legal marriage officer says that interfaith relationships can cause rifts between faith communities and finds it onerous to ascertain upsides of such unions.

“At the Noor Cultural Centre, we have officiated 62 per cent of the one thousand interfaith ceremonies that took place between 2016 to 2019,” she says. “I don’t know if such unions have any benefits other than what the individual couples presume.”

Social scientists who study interreligious relationships say that such unions are taboo in traditional societies, and people’s unbridled fears ratify interfaith marriages as a threat to religious sovereignty. Kanji also notes that devout families prefer same-faith unions. But Khaleel Mohammed, who was an Imam and a professor of religion at San Diego State University, disputed her stance. I interviewed him in 2020. He passed away last year in 2021.

He said that many same-faith marriages are a result of circumstance and “societal brainwashing” rather than a person’s ardent desire to marry someone from their faith (though that could happen too). Mohammed cites the example of South Asian society, where people “operate as family units rather than as individuals. The idea of “what the family might say” plagues devout practitioners. He adds that a similar tribal mentality in the Middle East “makes them stick to their own—Muslims with Muslims and Christians with Christians.” He clarifies that too is a cultural practice rather than religious law. Studies show that people have various reasons to marry an interfaith partner. For some, an interreligious union is about where they live, and other factors include a higher educational level as it cultivates more liberal beliefs.

When conducting interfaith counseling sessions, Matthew Isert Bender, a Mennonite pastor and Executive Director at the Interfaith Counseling Centre in New Hamburg, Ont., says he directs the couple’s attention towards potential problems prompting them to reflect on future concerns.

Matthew Isert Bender, a Mennonite pastor and Executive Director at the Interfaith Counseling Centre in New Hamburg, Ont., says, “Marriage is not only about faith, and a clash of personalities can impact the quality of a marriage.” When conducting interfaith counseling sessions, he directs the couple’s attention towards potential problems, and in doing so, he prompts the couple to reflect on their future concerns, which may involve raising children, dealing with dogmatic family members and social repercussions.

Suleyman Demiray, an imam at the Royal Military College, says that interfaith unions lead to multifaceted social issues. Imam Demiray, the first Muslim imam for the Canadian military, says he officiated interfaith marriages in Turkey before he came to Canada. However, he gained prominence in 2015 for officiating an interfaith marriage between a Muslim soldier in the Lebanese Army and a physiotherapist in the Canadian military. It was a multi-faith ceremony: an Anglican priest led it, and Demiray gave the couple his blessings by reciting the Surah Fatiha, a Quranic prayer (akin to the Lord’s Prayer). He says, “An interfaith union can remove cross-cultural differences and build interfaith tolerance,” but can also come with a hefty price. According to the imam, the problems that an interfaith couple faces often pertain to a potential divorce, children, and communal backlash.

Pastor Bender says circumventing a discussion about interfaith marriages “does not make them disappear.” He also says that by avoiding discussion about such unions, “we miss an opportunity to redress the societal backlash.”

In agreement, imam Mohammed, who has officiated 150 marriages, and 50 interfaith marriages in the U.S., mentioned that Muslim clerics evade the talk about interfaith unions as “they don’t want to go beyond the traditional understandings of a bygone era.” Mohammed says this “perceived authority” gives imams “control over how people think about religion, and power is hard to give up.”

Another pressing concern besides evading the discussion about interfaith marriages, hiding biases and personality clashes is the issue of having a “righteous” religious identity. Zynah learns that through a sudden heartbreak, as do I.

Three months into writing this story, at five o’clock one morning, I wake up to my phone’s vibration. I wiggle in protest as I see a dull light beaming from the phone’s screen. I reach for the phone, and the dim light is now brighter than a hundred suns. Devoid of any coherent thought, I read the message from Zynah. It has two sad face emojis, and in all-caps, the message reads, “HE DUMPED ME.”

Slumber’s haze and my monotonous work schedule make me inept to remember what day it is. Clutching my duvet, I re-read the text, and in hopes to have another hour of sleep, I slide the phone under my pillow. But the thought of leaving a friend to wallow alone is unbearable. So, I get up from the bed and walk over to the window. I slump against its cold windowpane and slightly lift the curtain. Outside, the wind wails and the sky rumbles. With one eye closed and the other one-half open, I call my friend. She is sobbing uncontrollably. The gray skies weep with her, sharing in her heartbreak. Dense fog rolls in to envelop my house, much like heartache envelopes her grieving heart.

Zynah feels blindsided. “I did not see this coming. He was always caring, bought me flowers, he has been there for me, and we used to see each other five times a week,” she says. “How did this happen?” With a sarcastic tone, I say that she should not have ignored me in her courting days. She apologizes promptly and upon hearing her apology I console her while beckoning her to continue. She says that Aiden’s temperament changed after his family member's recent demise, and he feels the need to become a devout Orthodox. She says that her partner, whom she wanted to marry, now regards their involvement as a precursor of his wavering faith. Zynah says that her partner insists on “cleansing” himself as he wronged God (by being with a Muslim woman), and his soul is now in jeopardy. He also says that he must fast and cut all communication with her for the upcoming Holy Week and the mourning time.

Past polls and studies about interfaith unions also find that such marriages are generally more likely to end in separations and divorce rate for interreligious marriages is nine times higher than same-faith unions. However, a similar Pew Research poll also notes that in contemporary societies, religious identification is irrelevant and happy couples (in same-faith or interreligious unions) are less likely to get a divorce when they have common interests, a satisfying sexual relationship and share household chores.

Imam Daayiee Abdullah, who is a prominent human rights activist within Muslim and interfaith contexts, has officiated 68 interfaith marriages in the U.S. He says that in his experience, “nine times out of 10, there are other underlying issues when a couple divorces.” Daayiee, an openly gay imam, is the founder and Executive Director at MECCA Institute (Muslim Education Center for Creative Academics), a Washington-based Muslim think tank and online school. Daaiyee says that he is a proponent of interfaith unions, and speaking about his previous relationship in high regard, the Imam says that in his case, the societal pressure was too much for his closeted interfaith partner, which resulted in their separation.

Imam Daayiee Abdullah, a prominent human rights activist within Muslim and interfaith contexts, has officiated 68 interfaith marriages in the U.S. He says that in his experience, “nine times out of 10, there are other underlying issues when a couple divorces.”

But hope remains for interfaith couples who value shared human experience. Leena Odeh, a Muslim Palestinian-Canadian woman and a friend who is also in an interfaith and intercultural relationship, says that open-mindedness is the essence of her relationship. Even though Leena identifies as a Muslim, she says that she does not practice Islam devoutly. “If I agree with the reasoning, I will do it. If a practice or concept resonates with me and my lifestyle, then I’ll go for it. Otherwise it’s not for me,” she says. Leena, a former Dubai resident who was in a committed relationship with a 30-year-old Jamaican-Canadian man, says older generations tend to have more stringent religious views. Keen to marry her partner, Leena says that her wedding “would be non-religious, on a beach-side, with a few close friends.”

Now a year into their marriage, Leena, a self-professed “honeymoon girl,” tells me she didn't have a big wedding and got married at City Hall with her family and a few close friends as her witnesses. However, the beach made an appearance; she and her husband commemorated the happy occasion on a beach in Greece.

These days she basks in newlywed marital bliss and wants people – who are looking to find love in different cultures and religions – to marry for the right reasons.

“Learn to embrace change in your life and be accepting of new traditions and ideas. But also know that not everything will be your cup of tea and that’s OK too,” she adds. Keeping an open-mind and open communication helps according to Leena. “ Set a date at the beginning or near the end of every month, continue to talk about your evolving relationship, personal goals, work and money,” she says. In short, keep dating your partner even after marriage, whether it’s an inter-faith union or a same faith one.