- ‘Islam is like a filter for culture; it will get rid of the worst things about our culture and keep the best things,’ says Edward Rowe

LONDON

For many, the path to a new faith is a sudden lightning bolt. For Edward Rowe, a Londoner with a deep intellectual curiosity and an even deeper affinity for Turkish culture, it was a slow, deliberate walk – one that began in a secondary school classroom and eventually led him to Islam.

Long before he was an active member of the Muslim community, Rowe was a practicing Christian. In fact, he was so committed to his faith that he once aspired to be a priest.

However, during a philosophy and ethics class, he began grappling with the “big questions” of existence and the nature of God.

“I started to look into Islam as a result of that,” Rowe recalls. “I found that Islam really answered the questions in the most pleasing, most comprehensive way. That’s the main thing that really attracted me.”

Despite his initial attraction, the transition was not overnight. It was a deliberate, intellectual, and spiritual slow burn that lasted seven years.

While studying at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, Rowe immersed himself in Middle Eastern history and Islamic civilizations. The academic rigor helped dismantle the stereotypes he saw on the periphery of British society.

“It helps to defeat those misconceptions that people have ... about Muslims being intolerant or backwards,” he explains. “I had that evidence of these really great, amazing civilizations that were Islamic in nature.”

However, the final jump from theory to practice was inspired by a more personal connection.

Love for Türkiye

After meeting a Turkish woman who would later become his wife, Rowe traveled to Türkiye to meet her family. It was there, watching his future father-in-law in prayer, that the academic became the seeker.

“I kind of wanted what he had,” Rowe said. The very next day, in the historic Nuruosmaniye Mosque in Fatih, Istanbul, he took his Shahada – the Islamic declaration of faith.

“I’m still in touch with the imam whom I met on the day I became Muslim … And I sent a photo of myself dressed in a Turkish jubbah (long outer robe) after learning to give a Friday sermon (khutbah).”

Back in London, Rowe’s spiritual and personal lives converged at Masjid Ramadan – the Ramadan Mosque – in a quiet corner of Hackney, East London.

For Rowe, this building is the physical manifestation of what he calls the “two loves” in his life: his wife and the country of Türkiye.

“I actually had my nikah, my Islamic wedding, here in this mosque, in this room, right here," Rowe says, gesturing to the space that holds so much personal weight.

The mosque itself carries a storied legacy. Established in 1977 by the Turkish Cypriot community in a converted synagogue, it holds the distinction of being the UK’s first Turkish mosque. It serves as a living bridge to the Ottoman past; in 2006, the mosque held the funeral of Durrusehvar Sultan, the daughter of the last Ottoman caliph, Abdulmecid II.

Rowe finds beauty in these layers of history – the Jewish motifs still visible in the architecture and the Ottoman connection that tethers his local London community to the grand history he once studied at university.

‘Islam is like a filter for culture’

One might expect a convert to feel a sense of cultural displacement, but for Rowe, it was the opposite.

In a paradox that he acknowledges sounds “bizarre,” he says: “I feel more British since becoming a Muslim than before.”

He describes the British Muslim community as a melting pot of cultures – Somali, Bangladeshi, Pakistani, and others – that forced him to reflect more deeply on his own heritage. He recalls celebrating the Muslim Eid holiday with a traditional afternoon tea – a quintessentially British affair.

“You don’t have to become a Bangladeshi, an Arab, or Pakistani,” Rowe asserts. “Islam is like a filter for culture; it will get rid of the worst things about our culture and keep the best things. Hence, cup of tea, fish and chips – all those things can stay.”

Faith in a time of ‘storm clouds’

Rowe’s journey hasn’t been without its shadows. He speaks candidly about the “storm clouds” gathering in the UK, citing the far-right riots of 2024.

Far-right riots broke out across the UK last year following a July stabbing attack in the coastal town of Southport.

The violence was fueled by false online claims that the suspect, Axel Rudakubana, who is a British citizen born in Cardiff, was a Muslim asylum seeker.

Living in an area where intimidation and anti-migrant sentiment have flared, Rowe has found himself drawn closer to his local mosque – not just for his own peace, but as a guardian for the vulnerable.

“I have found myself going to my local mosque a little bit more ... because I’m genuinely quite concerned about the older people that might be there,” he says.

Yet, even in the face of aggression, his outlook remains anchored in the Islamic faith: “Allah is with you. He’s watching, and He’s in control, ultimately. When you bear that in mind ... problems and tests in your life don’t seem nearly as big anymore.”

Family united

Perhaps the most heartwarming chapter of Rowe’s story is the reaction of his parents. Unlike the “horror stories” of rejection often faced by some converts, his family embraced his choice with respect and curiosity.

His father offered a “manly respect” for his son’s diligent research, while his mother has become an active participant in his new life. “She bought me a prayer mat. She cooks food with halal meat.”

“Sometimes she’ll come and have iftar with us during Ramadan,” Rowe says with a smile, referring to the evening meal during Ramadan, the ongoing Muslim holy month of fasting.

For those standing where he once stood – questioning and curious – Rowe offers a simple piece of advice: “Look into Islam with an open heart and an open mind ... If you see Muslims behaving badly, don’t blame Islam, just blame them as individuals.”