In a few days we will be ringing in Ramadan, when millions around the globe will fast with the hope of purifying their hearts and souls. For many, this is the month of charity and good deeds. People are supposed to be kinder to each other and be a little bit more understanding. It’s the month when many take on the challenge of tackling their bad habits, from smoking to swearing. But perhaps most importantly, it’s the season of solidarity with those less fortunate.

During Ramadan, you never pray alone and you certainly are not supposed to break bread by yourself. People put aside their grievances and grudges to stand together.

I started fasting at the age of seven. As a little boy, it was exciting to see all of my family under one roof, elbowing each other, trying to get more of that popular dish before it ran out. Mom and Dad always made sure we had enough food, and then we would pray and rush to the nearest TV to watch our favorite prank shows or dramas (hey, I have five sisters). We would stuff ourselves with jams, cheeses, dried fruits—anything sweet that was within reach. Some stores and restaurants would even open their doors at crazy hours to cater to our special Ramadan schedules.

You can imagine how different it was for me to experience my first Ramadan in the US as a lone student in the Rocky Mountains. It took a lot of adjusting, but it turned out well, thanks to friendly people on campus who made sure to make the few Muslims feel welcome.

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