By Islamophobia. Month after month, year after year. It’s an old enemy that plays games with me, hated but familiar games.
“Man Admits to Pulling Hijab From Muslim Woman’s Head During Airline Flight: ‘Take It Off! This Is America!’” – CNN Wire
Articles like that make it hard to get out of bed in the morning.
“Applebee’s customer smashes Muslim woman in the face for speaking Swahili” – The Grio
Well, won’t be speaking Urdu or Arabic in public today. Poor, wronged, woman. Hope she heals. I tentatively sit up.
“Man pushes Muslim woman into oncoming underground train in London” – The Express Tribune
I feel its effects viscerally, deep in the pit of my stomach somewhere. I am afraid to leave my house.
I feel its effects viscerally, deep in the pit of my stomach somewhere. I am afraid to leave my house.
“Charges: Seattle man threatened ‘final crusade against Islam’ Hate crime charges filed in threats against Seattle mosque” – Seattlepi
Oh thank God, thank God, Subhanallah he was caught. I lay back down. Catch my breath.
These might not be the articles making headlines, but I’m paying attention. Awareness means safety for me. I have to know. I have to know the potential of the anger out there.
These might not be the articles making headlines, but I’m paying attention. Awareness means safety for me. I have to know. I have to know the potential of the anger out there.
Here, these may sound more familiar:
“Paris Terror Attacks” – CNN.com
“San Bernardino Shooting” – CNN.com
“What We Know About Terror Attacks in Brussels” – CNN.com
“Orlando Shooting: What Happened At The Pulse NightclubAttack” – NPR
All shocking, inexcusable. But the fear and mourning is twofold. I’m devastated twice over. First, for the victims and their families; recovering will be a lifelong process. Second, I’m already dreading the backlash from the attacks. Dreading the change in the way I carry myself.
I feel the sickness again: Slowly seeping into my system, across my paling face, through my dry throat, slowly but surely. I can’t breathe properly. The walls are coming in, again. I’m prey to it again. It’s winning the game again, my enemy, oh old enemy.
Enter tram station. Pull hood over hijab. Try to blend in. Step away from the tracks, so it’s harder to push you in. Make it harder for someone to target you. Look away. No eye contact with anyone. Look away, look away. I refuse to become its prey. Pull scarf over uniform logo — don’t want to let anyone know where you work, especially not on the tram. Find a seat in a discreet spot. Then finally, breathe.
You fear becoming the headline of the next day. You’d rather not.
Why is it called Islamophobia? Can we come up with a different Latin or Greek word for hate against Muslims? Maybe by renaming it, we’ll take it more seriously. Because calling it Islamophobia almost justifies and sympathizes with those who do fear Muslims. It’s kind of like saying, hey, who can blame them? Fear gets to everyone. I mean, I get why they would be afraid. You can’t really blame someone for having a phobia, can you? So lets water down the word and make excuses for those who act out of hate, but cloak it under the name of fear.
Why is it called Islamophobia? Can we come up with a different Latin or Greek word for hate against Muslims? Maybe by renaming it, we’ll take it more seriously. Because calling it Islamophobia almost justifies and sympathizes with those who do fear Muslims. It’s kind of like saying, hey, who can blame them? Fear gets to everyone. I mean, I get why they would be afraid. You can’t really blame someone for having a phobia, can you?
Get to work. Over the next few months be asked by a variety of people to go back to your country, if you have terrorist plans, be asked suggestively what your hair looks like under that scarf, and feel your scarf shaken like one would shake a collar, accusingly — Why do you wear that?
Complain to upper management: Oh, he probably didn’t understand what he was doing.
He understands that you shouldn’t touch people’s clothing, doesn’t he?
Oh, he’s just a jokester!
Receive an empty apology: I’m sorry you’re offended, but I didn’t pull your scarf.
Stew some more.
Quit the job.
And of course, Donald Trump. I hate even having to include him in this article — as if he needs any more publicity. A leading candidate for presidency in the United States is spewing hate giving the go for so many others to blatantly and obviously say ragingly racist and threatening remarks. What irks and surprises me every time (why I’m still surprised, I don’t understand; maybe because I still have some hope for humanity) is that people don’t understand that by blanketing us with your suspicious eyes, you are causing us to be as fearful from you as you are of us. And fearful I was.
And when did we become an ‘us and them’? When did we forget that Muslims are part of the average American fabric that feels helpless in the face of endless violence?
When did we forget that Muslims are part of the average American fabric that feels helpless in the face of endless violence?
His horrible serpent-tongue found its way into our daily dinner table conversations. I thought twice before taking a walk. I looked in fear at the streets, worrying about the armed bikers who’d protested outside the Phoenix masjid. I stayed in and worried with my family about the rise of this tyrant. Sometimes I feared walking in the backyard. Were we really safe there, either?
You fear becoming the headline of the next day. You’d rather not.
That’s when enough was enough. Reminding ourselves that we were not the only family in the United States feeling heavily tired and scared was a turning point. In times of difficulty, getting support from like-minded individuals is important.
Enter long-time writing partner, and friend extraordinaire: Erin Barton. She contacted me and wanted to work on a piece together. We weren’t sure how to frame it yet, but she had noticed a group holding signs and harassing the community outside the masjid in Tempe, Arizona, better known as the Islamic Community Center of Tempe (ICC).
Erin walks past the masjid every day on her way to work, and she commented that walking past the group, headed by a man who calls himself ‘Brother Dean,’ makes her uncomfortable. She started to wonder how it made the families trying to attend prayer services feel.
She’d also heard my horror stories about workplace harassment angrily: “It’s like pulling scarves has become a national pastime.”
So, encouraged by the aftermath of Trump’s disastrous comments, which get worse by the day, we decided to turn our musings into action.
MPowerChange, a grassroots Muslim organization, reports 78 mosques in the United States faced attacks in 2015 alone. With these high numbers, I wonder how many stories are left untold.
MPowerChange, a grassroots Muslim organization, reports 78 mosques in the United States faced attacks in 2015 alone. With these high numbers, I wonder how many stories are left untold.
This is just a brief look into one Muslim community in the United States.
Erin and I interviewed several people at the ICC of Tempe during various Friday prayers. What we wanted to know most of all was how Islamophobia affected their daily life, how it felt to see the protestors outside the mosque, if it affected their ability or desire to attend prayers, and what gave them hope in this tense environment.
We approached several women at the masjid, of whom one stayed to talk. She wished to remain anonymous, but discussed freely how riding the light rail had become extremely frightening during Trump’s initial anti-Muslim remarks. She’d gotten dirty stares, and was told by her family to avoid it. Better not to push anyone’s buttons. It made me sad to hear that sitting passively on a tram could be considered provocative. Not having used the tram for close to 2 months, she talked about needing to go back because she didn’t have a car. Throughout this time, her co-workers were very supportive; they wanted her to be safe, and offered to carpool.
It made me sad to hear that sitting passively on a tram could be considered provocative.
Another Friday, Erin and I met with the Muslim Students Association of Arizona State University’s Tempe Campus. They were tabling outside the masjid to raise funds for Islam Awareness Week, an initiative meant to help bridge the gap between diverse communities on campus. We spoke to two students, Ridhwaan Syed and Mariam Fayad, both active members of the MSA.
Ridhwaan felt his personal experiences of Islamophobia were pretty good compared to others. However, post 9/11, he was interviewed by government about his father. He was 4-5 years old at the time and didn’t realize the gravity of the situation until he got older. Ridhwaan consciously tries to carry himself in a way that’s different because he’s Muslim, and doesn’t want to seem suspicious.
For his mother, however, it was a different story. Her hijab was pulled off in a supermarket and she faced racial slurs.
He mentioned that it was uncomfortable hearing a news flash that put out blanketed statements about Muslims in a public setting. It makes him feel bad, and other people suspicious. He stated that the idea that all Muslims are dangerous is just not representative of what’s happening. Ridhwaan asks people to get out and experience the world. That’s the biggest medicine to this mess.
When asked for his take on ‘Brother Dean,’ Ridhwaan replied saying he doesn’t think anybody likes him. The man goes after practically everyone, yelling vile things, making a lot of people uncomfortable. The signs his group holds up outside the masjid are also a source of discomfort. I agree—it must not be very pleasant to read that you’re going to Hell before going in to pray.
What’s his plan of action to counter the hate? Helping organize Islam Awareness Week.
“Being part of the community is the biggest way to battle false perceptions,” Ridhwaan said thoughtfully.
“Being part of the community is the biggest way to battle false perceptions,” Ridhwaan said thoughtfully.
Mariam Fayad, also part of the MSA, had her share of experiences with harassment: Approached in a parking lot and told she didn’t belong in the U.S. by a complete stranger, told in photography class she should “be the shooter” followed by a sly, “You know, behind that camera,” and being told by the woman who was supposed to take her passport picture “You can’t be wearing that on your head.”
Mariam commented about an “environment of fear” that was palpable any time an incident happened. After the Chapel Hill shooting of three Muslims in North Carolina in early 2015, for example, she felt in danger.
About ‘Brother Dean’ she also had similar things to say. His protests are very upsetting, annoying, and hurtful. He and his followers show up at MSA events on campus all the time, causing disruptions and spreading hate.
After a while, Muslims become numb to it, she said, as if this is just how it is.
On several occasions, however, he’s had the opposite effect, she shared. Sometimes, on campus, his protests have brought people together.
People have come up to the MSA group and said “This isn’t what Christianity is, we’re with you.” One woman even came up to their table, crying and hugging them, saying “This isn’t us!”
Trump is history repeating itself, Mariam says. He spreads fear to get his point across and it is doing damage.
To counter Islamophobia, Mariam involves herself in interfaith efforts. She is part of “Sun Devils Are Better Together,” an interfaith group that collaborates to do humanitarian work. She also pitched Islam Awareness Week, saying that this yearly week on campus has been a very positive and enlightening experience for her and the MSA.
After hearing all these interviews, I wonder why humans do this to each other. You’re scared, I’m scared, apparently we’re all scared, so instead of targeting each other, why don’t we work together? Why must we speak over each other?
I wonder why humans do this to each other. You’re scared, I’m scared, apparently we’re all scared, so instead of targeting each other, why don’t we work together? Why must we speak over each other?
We also interviewed Samer Naseredden, who at the time was Youth Minister at ICC. Samer painted a useful picture of Islamophobia:
“People are looking for hope,” Samer said, and fear-mongering politicians “utilize the fact that Muslims are unknown,” taking advantage of the fear people have of the unknown. The fact that “we’re integrated into the fabric of the country” is ignored. Instead, we are “sensationalized” and “attacking Muslims is seen as a solution.” The perception that “If you care about Christianity, you have to be against Muslims” is being spread vehemently.
The major narrative crashing through the United States is that “Muslims are un-American, violent, antithetical to the Constitution, and want to take over,” he said. Money goes into making sure this narrative is spread, because it’s financially viable to divert local frustration and hard financial times to an ostracized, unknown ‘enemy,’ i.e. Islam.
The major narrative crashing through the United States is that “Muslims are un-American, violent, antithetical to the Constitution, and want to take over,” he said. Money goes into making sure this narrative is spread, because it’s financially viable to divert local frustration and hard financial times to an ostracized, unknown ‘enemy,’ i.e. Islam.
When we asked him if he was affected directly by Islamophobia, he told us no, because he was not “visibly” Muslim. However, he said even without personal experience, Islamophobia is “traumatic” because the community is constantly “in fear of backlash.”
He shared that ICC has been defaced on several occasions; once, swastikas were drawn on its walls. The windows of the Phoenix masjid have also been broken. A Muslim woman was driven off the road. Another Muslim woman convert had racial slurs thrown in her direction when she was seen with her Arab husband. Why are you wearing that headscarf? Don’t you know better? Aren’t you an American?
How do they deal with the hecklers outside the masjid? They discourage the members from interacting. ‘Brother Dean’ wants attention first and foremost, and if they don’t get it, we are one step ahead of them already.
How does he counter Islamophobia? In his capacity as a youth minister, he held discussion groups. After Friday prayers he often spoke to younger Muslims, late elementary to college-age students, about Islamophobia. Belonging to the latter end of that category himself, Samer recognizes that Muslim youth are at a high risk when it comes to being targeted for their religion. The youth have strong awareness of the dangers posed to their family, especially their sisters and mothers who are often open, visible targets because of their clothing. Samer encouraged his audience to stand up and speak out in the right manner
“College students tend to have a stronger grasp of the situation,” and “come ready to discuss solutions,” he stated. They’ve been living through it for longer. The younger kids have a harder time understanding.
Why? We’re Muslim. What’s the big deal?
Above all, Samer stresses being good examples and role models to everyone, allies and detractors alike. Many people are socialized into this way of thinking and they can be socialized out of it. Samer lets his group know it’s unacceptable, and to be proactive —you don’t deserve to be treated like this.
Samer lets his group know it’s unacceptable, and to be proactive —you don’t deserve to be treated like this. “Nothing that we can’t work on” he said brightly. “[We] have a right to live in peace and security.”
“Nothing that we can’t work on” he said brightly. “[We] have a right to live in peace and security.”
He shared an example of a child who did reach out, complaining about his teacher who, instead of calling him by his name, called him in a very blazé manner: “Yo, terrorist.” The ICC board informed the school about this incident and the teacher was warned against using such language.
Though he knows it “seems like doom and gloom,” Samer insists that “so many people stand up for us.”
Several days after the armed protest against the Phoenix masjid in May 2015, for example, around 300 people of the interfaith community gathered at the masjid to support the affected Muslim community. The Tempe Interfaith Fellowship also issued a joint statement condemning the protestors.
I left these interviews feeling strange. I was afraid I would feel worse, predicting I would hear about more instances of Islamophobia. Instead, what I felt was this unmistakable ray of hope. Here were all these people who, despite facing attacks on their religion, continued to stand against it. Their resilience shone through their sometimes serious, sometimes smiling faces.
What I heard throughout these interviews was this — there is a community experience of anxiety about Islamophobia, history is repeating itself, and most of all, don’t isolate yourself. Get out there in the public eye and be your authentic self — that in itself is so powerful. Hearing their fears and hopes expressed helped me to understand and work on my own. By reconnecting with members of the masjid, I myself felt stronger and less helpless. We were taking action.
Get out there in the public eye and be your authentic self — that in itself is so powerful.
And what’s left is to ask myself the key question — what gives ME hope?
Samer said something at the end of his interview that got me thinking: “After us there will be another group that goes through something similar…we’ll be more proactive…we’ll be the ones that are supporting others.”
You mean there could be an end to Islamophobia?
I’ve never seen one. Since I was a 9-year-old girl, I’d begun to see, understand, and be at the receiving end of this Islamophobic environment. I haven’t really known a world without it. I’ve never stopped fighting it, but I’ve never really envisioned an end to it either. But his statement made me sit back and imagine that world.
A world with enough open-minded, vocal individuals to end not only these forms of fear, but homophobia, xenophobia, racism, bigotry, and any other toxic concept. I focus on Islamophobia here because that is what I know. My article here can be rewritten by many using their own terms and definitions.
An English professor I was fortunate to take class with once told us that until we stop prioritizing our persecution and tragedies over those of others, until we stop speaking about oppression in terms of hierarchies, we will never solve the world’s problems.
An English professor I was fortunate to take class with once told us that until we stop prioritizing our persecution and tragedies over those of others, until we stop speaking about oppression in terms of hierarchies, we will never solve the world’s problems.
When we start to treat everyone’s pain as utterly unacceptable is when we’ll be able to take a step forward, hand in hand.
And this is my attempt to do just that. This is my story. I know it’s not the only one.
What’s yours?
Contributed by Hira Ismail
But wait, there’s more!
Read Erin’s story here.