When Aatif Sharieff was growing up in a Maryland suburb, none of the other kids in his elementary school knew about Ramadan.
Each year, as the Muslim month of fasting came around, Sharieff had to explain to fellow students why he couldn't eat lunch with them or drink from the water fountain.
"Everybody would ask," he recalls. "It became like a broken record, 'I'm fasting, I'm spiritual.' "
These days, Sharieff finds himself explaining to Muslims and non-Muslims alike why he no longer observes the traditional dawn-to-dusk fast. The 27-year-old Virginia architect lets people know that severe acid reflux means that he cannot go long without food.
"There's this expectation . . . that everyone is fasting, so you kind of feel like this anomaly," he said. "The first question people ask is 'How's your fast going?' "
He has to tell them that it's not.
Each year as Muslims across the world observe Ramadan, which ends this weekend, other members of the faith face the challenge and occasional awkwardness that comes with eating and drinking in public during daylight hours. Some explain their situation to friends and colleagues and eat openly; others take furtive sips of water or quick bites of food in stairwells, cars or even bathrooms.
"You should not eat in public. It's not banned, it's just emphasized that you should respect Ramadan," said Muzammil Siddiqi, a director of the Islamic Society of Orange County and chairman of the Fiqh Council of North America, which rules on issues of Islamic law. "It's not just an individual observance, it's a community observance."
In some predominantly Muslim countries, eating in public during Ramadan is illegal or so socially scorned that the decision for non-fasters is made for them. But in the United States and other countries with Muslim minorities, the choice can be more complicated. There are no rules banning public eating, but a rising cultural and global awareness means that more people -- even non-Muslims -- might ask, "Why aren't you fasting?"
"It's not a hidden phenomena like when I first came to America 35 years ago," said Maher Hathout, spokesman for the Islamic Center of Southern California and a longtime Muslim leader in Los Angeles. He pointed to the annual Ramadan dinners now held at the White House and State Department, and growing coverage of the month by U.S. media outlets.
"Everyone knows, so it's better to eat at home or shut the door of your office," Hathout said.
