The Power of the Handshake
by Nausheen Husain
I started practicing my firm handshake the week before I left. Keep your eyes on the hand until you make physical contact. As the hands meet, look up into the eyes of the opposite person and firmly (but not too firmly!) shake your hand down twice, maybe three times if the opposite person is enthusiastic. Smile confidently. Very important.
I was going to Harvard University for their annual Diversity and Explorations Program to learn more about their divinity school. I would be meeting Harvard professors, other prospective students and, most importantly, admissions officers. I figured my handshake would be the first impression, so it needed to be as confident as possible.
When I got to the hotel, I went to my room and, after setting up my stuff, ventured outside to try out my handshaking and mingling skills. I didn't have to go very far because right outside my door were two guys chatting about what they'd heard about the divinity school. I smoothly made my way into the conversation with comments of my own and a well-placed joke. My mingling skills are awesome I thought.
"By the way, my name's Nausheen, I'm from New York," I say to the guy closest to me. I might as well try out my handshake while I'm at it.
"I'm Bryan, from L.A." he says, smiling. I do the recommended two shakes and smile back confidently. Success!
As I reach my hand out to the second guy, he averts his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. Then, his hand goes into his pocket and stays there. My hand is still in the space between us, lingering like a rejected pet.
He looks at me and fidgets while hesitantly saying, "Um, I can't shake your hand. Sorry, it's a part of my faith. I'm Muslim." He pauses. “It's actually for your respect." I take my hand back. "I'm Ahmad," he adds.
"Oh, don't worry about it, I totally understand!" I say, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Muslim, too." He gives me a surprised look.
We kept talking for a little while longer and eventually parted, in search of more participants to meet.
But my mind was still hovering around my rejected hand, the fact that I was supposed to feel respected and the surprised look I had gotten when I mentioned I was the same religion as him. It's not that I felt offended or even upset; it was a different feeling. It's the same feeling you get when your brother or male friend assumes that you're not strong enough to carry a bag and so they automatically carry it for you. You don't necessarily complain about it or feel angry because, when all is said and done, someone is carrying your stuff for you; it's the assumption that stings.
I had never experienced this feeling before because, coming from a more liberal sect of Islam, I had never interacted with anyone who couldn't shake my hand because of one's religion. And I had never heard anyone call it one's "faith."
Faith is different than religion. Faith is someone's relationship with God; it's closer to spirituality, I believe, than religion. In terms of what one should or should not do, it's that annoying voice in your head that whispers and fidgets uncomfortably when you've done something wrong or said something mean. Religion is more the things that you can't wear or eat or drink because someone has specifically said you can't. You may or may not understand why, but even if you do, you may or may not completely agree with it. It's like when your mom tells you not to drink Red Bull because it's against Islam.
Granted, I only knew Ahmad for a weekend. But my guess is that his refusal to shake my hand was a religious thing, and not a faith-based action. I can't really see how shaking my hand would lessen his relationship with God. I don't think that, if he had shaken my hand, the voice in his head would have whispered and fidgeted. And I think that's more important than his mom being mad at him.
