So what did it for her? Was it the smashing of airplanes into buildings, or the beheadings? Which of those things spoke to her and screamed, “Islam is the way!”

Why One Woman Converted to Islam by Zosia Bielski for Canada’s Globe and Mail

Although she’d cultivated an academic interest in Islam at university, Willow Wilson’s religious awakening really came in the hospital. She was suffering from adrenal distress, and its symptoms – including insomnia and hair loss – would last for a year and a half.

“Being ill had shaken something loose in my head,” the 27-year-old writes in her new memoir The Butterfly Mosque.

She can say THAT again!

…After she recovered, Ms. Wilson accepted a teaching position in Cairo: Her decision to convert to Islam came mid-flight, over the Mediterranean. Days later, she would meet her future husband Omar, a pious Muslim and heavy-metal aficionado, at their English-language school. He showed her markets and cafés free of Westerners, and later steered her through her first Ramadan.

Ms. Wilson, a first-time author, spoke with The Globe and Mail from Seattle, where she relocated to with her husband nearly three years ago.

Oh great. She brought us another Muslim.

Your memoir is punctuated by people asking why you converted to Islam. You tell your roommate you tried to be an atheist but that “it didn’t work.” What do you tell people now?

Let’s pause there for a moment. Keep in mind that atheists turning to Islam is a phenomenon I’ve noticed before. Is it not coincidental that people who tried to go the religiously rule-free, or amoral, way are drawn toward the religion that is immoral — whose prophet adjusted the rules to suit his basest instincts when he couldn’t resist acting on them.

It really depends on why the person is asking and on what our relationship is. I was searching for a religion that spoke to me and Islam did that in a more complete way than anything else I had studied…”

If I ever convert to Islam, it won’t be because I’m searching for a religion that speaks to me. It’ll be because I’m searching for a criminal life in which I still get to be loved and defended by all at the end of the day.

“…There was a pull for me in the words of the Koran that seemed very personal. […]

But the Muslim does not exist outside the Ummah. So there’s nothing personal about it; Ms. Wilson’s soul now is not her own. It’s all about the collective, Babe. (See the late Bosnian-Muslim President Alija Izetbegovic’s 1970 “Islamic Declaration,” which states: “A Muslim generally does not exist as an individual.”)

A comment poster named Pauly, summed up the entire thing best: “Sorry, where’s the actual story in this? There’s flakes throughout the world. Why are we paying attention to this one?

Now, unlike the rest of us, Ms. Wilson has the luxury of a crystal ball to glimpse what the rest of her life will look like. She doesn’t even have to spend money on a psychic. Although the following, one-size-fits-all experience can be gleaned from any number of dumb-broad accounts out there, this particular one comes from a former dingbat named Jutta from Germany, from a chapter titled “Escape from Turkey” in the book Why We Left Islam.

It ends with a female German embassy worker in Turkey asking her what I’ll ask Ms. Wilson: “When will you learn to listen to the news, stupid hens?”

…The religious atmosphere in my family was getting on my nerves. I was having heated arguments with my parents all the time because of my disagreement with some Christian teachings. They pressed me to be a better Christian; I rebelled and did the opposite.

Soon after my graduation from university, I met a young Muslim man of Turkish origin. We fell in love and soon got married. He was not a religious fanatic — he was absolutely secular, although he did observe some Islamic obligations (he fasted and prayed). He didn’t ask me to convert to his religion but he made it clear that he would like his children to be Muslims. I myself took great interest in his religion and customs. I expressed willingness to learn more about Islam.

He brought me some deceptive (as I now understand) books about the glory of Islam and benefits of being a Muslim woman. I read the books and grasped the “beauty” of this religion.

I was taught by my Christian parents that a woman had to submit to her husband and thus find God. My Muslim husband seemed to be so close to God without any help from priests and I was told that I didn’t have to get married and submit to my husband to find peace of mind and faith in God. I looked at my husband and blindly believed all those lies because he was such a nice man who was the living example of a decent Muslim man. When I prayed behind him, I felt I was getting closer to God and Heaven.

Looking back on those days, I see that I was just a stupid kid who drummed into herself that Islam was an ideal religion for all humankind. Perhaps I simply wanted to vex my pious parents, whom I considered to be repressive monsters.

After I had converted, I was given some other books that were not as wonderful as the previous ones. I learned that I could be beaten by my husband if he wasn’t satisfied with me. But in my addled mind I tried to find justification for that commandment. Moreover, I was sure that my husband was incapable of hitting a woman.

I gave birth to our children, who were sent to a kind of kindergarten for Muslim children. I kept on working and didn’t want to give up my job. My husband supported me and told me that Islam encouraged women to work and have their own lives…A few years later he decided to perform Hajj. I was very excited and proud of him because, in fact, I was much more religious than my secular husband.

When he came back, I couldn’t recognize him. His behavior changed dramatically and he was no longer secular. I didn’t like wearing a veil and usually put it on only when I went to mosque. Now my husband told me that I had to wear a veil outside all the time. When I opened my mouth to object to his horrible behavior, he hit me in the face and told me to shut up. I was forced to quit my job and become a housewife.

He brought some books from Saudi Arabia which “reformed” him and saved him from “perishing in Hell.” I read those books on Islam, the real Islam that my husband started to practice. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes and I realized that I had never been a Muslim. But it was too late, as we were moving to Turkey. He feared that Germany would have an adverse effect on our children’s upbringing.

My life in rural Turkey, with his parents, was a nightmare. I was no longer a liberated Muslimah, a wife of a liberal Muslim; I was a real Muslimah, just a commodity of my husband. I used to enjoy praying but now I started to detest prayers led by my husband. I no longer felt close to God. When I finished reading a real, not spurious, biography of the Prophet, I felt sick. I had been lied to all the time. How could I believe that Mohammad was the prophet of God?

I wondered what had happened to my husband. He told me he had had conversations with fellow Muslims from “moral” countries like Saudi Arabia and they had opened his eyes. I put the blame for my husband’s change of behavior on them, but then it occurred to me that he had always been a Muslim, although a secular one. What could I possibly expect from him? I had read dozens of articles about women married to Muslims and their hardship. I had been warned by my best friends that I was playing with fire. However, my unreasonable hatred for Christianity, my love for my husband, and the blatant lies deceived me and made me immune to reason and logic.

After such a rude awakening to the horrors of Islam and its treatment of women, I decided to review the Qur’an. My first feeling was anger at my blindness to reality. It is apparent from the Qur’an that men are given total control over women. “The Holy Book” abounds with discriminatory teachings on women, which are quite obvious from the context of the book. Only a blind woman in love like me could overlook them.

When my husband realized that I was no longer a docile wife and a pious Muslimah, he became a real savage. He showed his true colors and exclaimed that German whores could never become modest women.

I couldn’t believe that my humble hubby was now a faithful Wahabbi[sic]. I hoped I was asleep and dreaming, but I was not.

I managed to run away and get to the German embassy. My conversation with a female worker was another eye-opener — she asked me, “When will you learn to listen to the news, stupid hens?” She meant that all women knew that dating a Muslim, let alone marrying one, was a dangerous affair, yet we didn’t pay attention to all the warnings. Why do we keep on dating them?