Hot and sticky, on an early September afternoon, I was sitting idly in traffic waiting for the light on Pensacola and Jefferson to turn green. With the music blaring, windows down, and a line of sweat slowly trickling down the back of my neck, my eyes were drawn to a group of people chatting in a run-down parking lot to my right. Behind them lay an old building into which the people were slowly making their way. It wasn't the building that held my attention it was the women in front of it. They were too fully dressed for the sweltering September afternoon, wearing long sleeved dresses and most with scarves covering their heads. All I could see of their bodies was the skin of their faces and hands. As the light turned green, I slowly inched forward hardly able to tear my eyes away from the women. I couldn't help but be intrigued as to why they would be dressed in such a manner at this time of year. As I rolled forward, my car came to a stop in front of a small sign, written first in green Arabic lettering and then in English: Al-Ansar Mosque: The Islamic Center of Tallahassee.