By Arturo R. García

The only surprise was how long it took CNN to suspend contributor Roland S. Martin after the uproar he instigated during the Super Bowl this past Sunday. What’s not surprising is who hasn’t gotten the same punishment for similar offenses.

Which is not to excuse Martin for any of the poorly thought-out joke he threw out on Twitter during the game about this (NSFWish) underwear ad.

Martin would later defend the joke against charges of homophobia by saying he and CNN colleague Piers Morgan joke with each other about soccer, which might have been easier for him to do had it not been preceded by this tweet:

The backlash began almost immediately, and Martin did himself no favors later by telling author Kola Boof “reading is fundamental,” or responding to the Gay and Lesbian Alliance against Defamation by calling them “out of touch and clueless.”

This must also be noted: some of those who accused Martin of homophobia did so while calling him “an ape” or tossing the vilest of slurs at him:

It happened again Wednesday night after a college basketball game. And it was encouraging to read that GLAAD condemned those attacks while agreeing to meet with Martin in the near future.

Hopefully, such a meeting will also help Martin recognize that, even if he was joking, these were horrible jokes. Saying “Americans are into football, not soccer” is about as insightful as 1980s sports-talk radio. It’s one thing to argue that soccer will never be as big as the NFL or Major League Baseball; it’s another when your first defense is saying you sort-of meant soccer fans should be “smacked.”

And talking about “real bruhs” when you’re also making jokes about people to “smack the ish out” of somebody over a pair of underwear and ”about men being “defective” if they don’t like sports and hashtagging cracks about a guy in a pink suit “teamwhipthatass” paints a picture of a disturbing brand of humor. Especially when the guy making the jokes has compared homosexuality to alcoholism. “Just joking” doesn’t represent a just cause – Martin can ask Tracy Morgan about that.

In short, it’s not too much to hope that Martin makes some updates to “Roland’s Rules” soon. But it’s also not too much to ask that CNN show some consistency in enforcing its own.

A call to CNN Wednesday seeking content was not returned. Until then, it’s unclear why the network would suspend him and issue a somber press release mentioning “values and culture” while dismissing fellow contributor Dana Loesch’s telling a radio audience she would “drop trou” and urinate on enemy combatants less than a month ago. When Loesch’s remarks became public, all the network saw fit to tell Mediaite was, “CNN contributors are commentators who express a wide range of viewpoints — on and off of CNN — that often provoke strong agreement or disagreement. Their viewpoints are their own.”

Or maybe the difference is clear; Think Progress’ Alyssa Rosenberg rightly points out that Martin’s remarks were caught by an organized group with a history of tracking and responding to such instances. But the result of such selective policing is ultimately detrimental to CNN:

Taken together, the way CNN handled Martin’s and Loesch’s comments makes it look like CNN has no consistent internal values, and no internal standard for how to respond when it commenters express sentiments that are an anathema to those values. I’m glad to know, per CNN’s statement, that “Language that demeans is inconsistent with the values and culture of our organization, and is not tolerated.” But why should it take several days of consideration for CNN to arrive at that conclusion? If the network’s truly committed to the proposition that violence against gay people is no joking matter, that’s something it should know in advance, and CNN should have a personnel policy in place to determine what the appropriate penalty is when someone violates their standards.

Without an explanation of such a policy, it also becomes harder to reconcile CNN’s relatively quick action against Martin with not only Loesch’s comments, but the wide berth given to Lou Dobbs’ “birther” notions and anti-immigrant rhetoric before he finally resigned in 2009. Even then, network president Jonathan Klein practically sent him off with a serenade, saying a man who referred to critics as “limp-minded, lily-livered lefty lemmings” was carrying “the banner of advocacy journalism.”

Martin has publicly apologized and stated his willingness to talk to members of the community he offended. Hopefully that dialogue will lead to something truly constructive. In the meantime, maybe it’s now time for CNN to better explain why it hasn’t been as vigilant when it comes to some of his co-workers.

By Arturo R. García

Nobody’s saying All-American Muslim is perfect, but when was the last time a reality show was attacked for being … you know, realistic?

Yet that seems to be at the heart of the complaint filed by the Florida Family Association, which has resulted in a number of companies, most notably the Lowe’s hardware chain, pulling advertising from the program. On its website, the FFA says:

The first two episodes start off with Muslim youth complaining about non-Muslim Americans’ perception of them as extremists after 911. The show then reports on these youths’ daily, weekly and monthly prayer rituals. Many Imams who are at the head of these prayer rituals believe strongly in Islam and Sharia law. This TLC show clearly failed to connect the dots on this point but then again that appears to be their intent.

Many situations were profiled in the show from a Muslim tolerant perspective while avoiding the perspective that would have created Muslim conflict thereby contradicting The Learning Channel’s agenda to inaccurately portray Muslims in America.

The fear-mongering only goes on from there.

A company spokeswoman, Katie Cody, told The Washington Post it was Lowe’s understanding that All-American “raised concerns, complaints, or issues from multiple sides of the viewer spectrum,” without specifying any of those other viewpoints. Cody added, of course, that it wasn’t the company’s “intent to alienate anyone.”

Well, too late for that.

The FFA is also claiming responsibility for a whole host of companies pulling their ads from the show though at least three denied that allegation to The Post. (A list of sponsors no longer advertising on Muslim can be found here.)

Not only has the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee called Lowe’s out for caving in, but the incident has started to get attention outside television circles: Global Grind is organizing a petition in support of the show, while mogul/activist Russell Simmons took to both the press and Twitter to blast the company:

And the office of California Senator Ted Lieu (D-CA) posted a letter from him to Lowe’s CEO Robert Niblock calling on the company to apologize for its decision:

Lowe’s action is profoundly ignorant. Islam is a peaceful religion practiced by over 1.5 billion people, including Americans across our great nation and Lowe’s own employees. As President Bush declared, and President Obama reaffirmed, America is not at war with Islam.

America is, however, at war with people who pose a clear and present danger, whether they are white separatists like Timothy McVeigh (who happened to be Catholic); mass shooters such as Seung-Hui Cho at Virginia Tech ; or members of the Revolutionary People’s Liberation Army (a Marxist-Leninist group that has targeted US interests with suicide bombings). Lowe’s bigoted action conflates peaceful religions with dangerous people who use peaceful religions (or political ideology) to advance their agenda.

Lowe’s religious discrimination is the equivalent of a company asserting that it is pulling advertising from the Christian Broadcast Network’s 700 Club because the program somehow “riskily hides” the agenda of Christian radicalized groups such as Aryan Nation. That assertion would, of course, be utter nonsense and religious bigotry.

Like many bullies, the FFA doesn’t work alone; it’s an ally of the American Family Association, which was tagged as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center last year. And AFA spokesman lives up to that label at seemingly every turn, whether it be by sounding off on “Muslim turkeys;” arguing that the First Amendment shouldn’t apply to Mormons; or saying Jesus Christ Himself would flog the Occupy Wall Street movement; or offering Muslims a choice: convert to Christianity or die:

So we say to them, look, if you don’t want our missionaries, fine, that’s your choice, we’ll take our missionaries and our Marines, we’ll take them home, but we’re going to let you know we have no hesitation about returning with lethal force if the forces in your country threaten us again. This time it’s Marines and missionaries, next time it’ll be Marines and missiles.

To its credit, a spokesman for The Learning Channel, which airs Muslim, told Entertainment Weekly, “We stand behind the show All American Muslim and we’re happy the show has strong advertising support.”

But you might be wondering, why would Lowe’s kowtow to the views of a discriminating bunch of wingnuts? It might be as simple as sharing political bedfellows: the company makes no bones about being an active contributor … to the Republican party, which actively courts groups like the AFA. “Multiple sides of the viewer spectrum”? Seems more and more like they’re only coming from the right side of the aisle.

By Guest Contributor Nicole Cunningham Zaghia, cross-posted from Muslimah Media Watch

One of the main criticisms of TLC’s All American Muslim was that the show’s characters were representative of only a small part of the American Muslim community.  If you felt that way, then a great antidote is Me, the Muslim Next Door, a web documentary produced for Radio Canada International.  Filmed in Montreal and Toronto in both English and French, Me the Muslim Next Door is over two hours of audio, video, and still photography, broken up into 4-6 minute segments, with each of the show’s participants having several segments.  These segments took place in the participants’ personal landscapes – at home, on the street, with their families.

Me, the Muslim Next Door is cast like a cross between the United Nations and a Benetton ad. I love it.  We have:

• Eduardo, a Brazilian convert who, by his own admission, used to hate Muslims;
• Dania, whose father is Eritrean and whose mother is a convert from  Quebec;
• Mehdi, a Moroccan married to Laila from Afghanistan; they met on Facebook;
• Suad, whose mother is Syrian and whose father is part Palestinian, part Bosnian and, to add some fun to the mix, her husband Karim is part Finnish, part Egyptian;
• Rizwan, of South Asian background, who lives in Toronto and takes us to his neighbourhood masjid.

One of my recurring problems with Muslims in the media is that we are often portrayed answering the same questions in the same ways. Every show has something about polygamy or hijab or “fitting in.” We either go on tape with platitudes (“oh but you can only be polygamous if you afford it, isn’t it great that widows can be taken care of”), with statements designed to shock the middle classes (“jihad is ok for the kuffar!”), or with instant fatwas about how our religion says things in black and white (“Islam says music is BAD”).

These topics show up in Me the Muslim Next Door, but the  “personal landscape” format of the videos allows a fresh, personal light without bringing down the level of the discourse.

Mehdi and Laila, a mixed Sunni-Shia couple, explain that for them, the most important part of Islam is at the level of the shahada. If you say the shahada, you’re ok, and sectarian or other differences don’t matter.  That spoke to me. Jamila, part of a large family, explains why she stays close to her parents – because they made sacrifices for her when she was a child, so she will make sacrifices for them as an adult. Suad and Karim had a marriage semi-arranged by their MSA, “but” played the piano at their wedding. And Dania’s 23^rd birthday party was alcohol-free. She mentions alcohol – that she has never had it, but doesn’t see what it could bring to an already good time. These are people and situations I can relate to and the type of Muslims I want people to see when they ask me about my religion. The show’s participants leave out “Islam says this” and instead talk about these topics in the terms of personal choices they have made in their private lives.

As a francophone Louisianian who lived and studied in Canada, I absolutely LOVED seeing normal Muslim people I could relate to in their living rooms talking about their families, hopes, jobs and dreams. I found my place more in this show than I did in All-American Muslim. The difference is that the goal of Me, the Muslim Next Door isn’t sensational. It nails the fine line between “educating the mass market” and giving Muslim viewers characters who are different enough to be interesting yet similar enough for all of us, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, to find common ground.

Civil rights activism lost two pioneers Wednesday night with the passing of Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and legal scholar Derrick Bell.

The careers of Shuttlesworth – a founding member of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference alongside the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Ralph Abernathy and Bayard Rustin – and Bell, who would become the first black tenured law professor and dean of Harvard Law School, seemed to dovetail at times.

In 1957, three years after the landmark Brown v. Board of Education decision, Shuttlesworth and his wife, Ruby, famously took their children to Phillips High School in Birmingham, Ala., to break the color barrier. The move came a year after Shuttleworth’s house was bombed by members of the Ku Klux Klan. Shuttlesworth escaped the bombing unharmed, but he would not be so fortunate at Phillips, as Ruby was stabbed and, as he recounted for the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute in 2003, he was assaulted by a mob:

Each one was hitting and kicking, stomping. I began to realize that on this brilliant day that every time a chain or something would hit my head I would see instant gray. I knew I had to get back to the car.

I noticed that the guy that was sitting next to the car was going to get the last lick with his chain and I felt as if he had having been struck and stomped as much as I had, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get to the car. And I was trying to make up my mind I was just running to him, I don’t know what I was going to do. But anyway I was going to try to get to the car. Here again you must realize you have to figure God does things that you never even thought about. Suppose the door had closed.
Suppose some Klansman had closed the door or suppose as Rev. Woods said, “if it had been me, I would have driven off.” (Laughing) I would have died right there, or if this man had gotten a chance to hit me this one lick I would have been
right there.

But somehow or another as I was struggling being pulled at, tearing my clothes and kicking, the last thing I remember was one guy was standing in front as I was getting ready to go to the door where this man was getting ready to swing, somebody kicked me in the side. And somehow or another as I was falling down I think, another one struck me from in front. I didn’t see the guy with the chain. I wasn’t looking for him. I finally if you remember seeing the film, I fell up into the door with my hand and [a friend] reached over and pulled me into the car. And my feet were sticking out the door. The door was still open as we pulled off to go to the hospital.

That same year, Bell joined the Justice Department’s Civil Rights department, though he would resign in 1959 after being told his membership in the NAACP represented a conflict of interest. He would go on to lead more than 300 desegregation cases, including James Meredith’s attempt to enroll at the University of Mississippi.

“I learned a lot about evasiveness, and how racists could use a system to forestall equality,” Bell was quoted as saying. “I also learned a lot riding those dusty roads and walking into those sullen hostile courts in Jackson, Mississippi. It just seems that unless something’s pushed, unless you litigate, nothing happens.”

Neither Bell nor Shuttlesworth had a problem pushing back. The New York Times quoted an e-mail from Diane McWhorter, whose book Carry Me Home examined the civil rights movement in Birmingham, saying Shuttlesworth earned the nickname “the Wild Man from Birmingham.”

“Among the youthful ‘elders’ of the movement,” she added, “he was Martin Luther King’s most effective and insistent foil: blunt where King was soothing, driven where King was leisurely, and most important, confrontational where King was conciliatory — meaning, critically, that he was more upsetting than King in the eyes of the white public.”

Mr. Shuttlesworth was temperamental, even obstinate, and championed action and confrontation over words. He could antagonize segregationists and allies alike, quarreling with his allies behind closed doors.

For his part, after Bell moved into the academic world, he became a prolific author – his book Race, Racism and American Law is required reading at law schools across the country – and a leading scholar of Critical Race Theory. He was also a proponent of the Interest Convergence Dilemma: the idea that white people would only get behind black empowerment if they could get something out of it. As he wrote for the Harvard Law Review:

It follows that the availability of Fourteenth Amendment protection in racial cases may not actually be determined by the character of harm suffered by blacks or the quantum of liability proved against whites. Racial remedies may instead be the outward manifestations of unspoken and perhaps subconscious judicial conclusions that the remedies, if granted, will secure, advance, or at least not harm societal interests deemed important by middle‑ and upper‑class whites. Racial justice‑or its appearance‑may, from time to time, be counted among the interests deemed important by the courts and by society’s policymakers.

In assessing how this principle can accommodate both the Brown decision and the subsequent development of school desegregation law, it is necessary to remember that the issue of school segregation and the harm it inflicted on black children did not first come to the court’s attention in the Brown litigation: blacks had been attacking the validity of these policies for one hundred years.” Yet, prior to Brown, black claims that segregated public schools were inferior had been met by orders requiring merely that facilities be made equal.” What accounted, then, for the sudden shift in 1954 away from the separate but equal doctrine and toward a commitment to desegregation?

I contend that the decision in Brown to break with the court’s long‑held position on these issues cannot be understood without some consideration of the decision’s value to whites, not simply those concerned about the immorality of racial inequality, but also those whites in policymaking positions able to see the economic and political advances at home and abroad that would follow abandonment of segregation.

Both Shuttlesworth and Bell were active late into their lives: in 1988, Shuttlesworth started a housing foundation in Cincinatti to help families become homeowners. Ten years later, he was one of the first supporters of The Birmingham Pledge. According to the Times, Bell pushed for a more diverse faculty at both the University of Oregon (where he resigned after an Asian woman was denied tenure) and at Harvard, where he embarked on a two-year leave in protest of the school’s never having hired a black woman.

Bell is survived by his wife, Janet, three sons, two sisters and a brother. Shuttlesworth is survived by his second wife, Sephira Bailey Shuttlesworth, five children, 14 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren, a great-great grandchild, five sisters and two brothers.

By Arturo R. García

And things only got more disturbing after that video.

CNN’S partnership with the Tea Party for Monday night’s Republican presidential debate in Florida was definitely a double-edged sword. On the one hand, a news organization that likes to paint itself as being above political pettiness was visibly validating an astro-turfed faction of a party even longtime supporters are comparing to death cults. But on the upside, this was a chance for more people to see just how beyond the pale these folks really are.

In that regard, they did not disappoint.

So while many of the contenders busied themselves taking shots at Texas Governor Rick Perry, the audience made its’ presence known in ways perhaps not even the candidates anticipated – or wanted.

Perry, who came into Monday evening with some media-driven momentum, was jeered by members of the crowd for defending the Texas DREAM Act. Of course, he was also behind a state ban on sanctuary cities for immigrants, but it was enough of an opening for Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-MN) to accuse him of supporting “people who have broken our laws or who are here in the United States illegally.”

For his part, ex-Pennsylvania senator Rick Santorum doubled down on the xenophobia. Not only did he accuse Perry of trying to attract “illegal — I mean Latino — voters,” but he took aim at Rep. Ron Paul’s (R-TX) criticism of U.S. foreign policy before this past Sept. 11th, leading to some pushback from the audience. The transcript of the exchange is under the clip.

SANTORUM: We were attacked because we have a civilization because we have a society that is antithetical to the civilization of the Jihadists. And they wanna kill us because of who we are and what we stand for. And we stand for American exceptionalism. We stand for freedom and opportunity for everyone around the world and I am not ashamed to do that.

PAUL: As long as this country follows that idea, we’re gonna be in a lot of danger. This whole idea that the whole Muslim world is responsible for this and they’re attacking us because we’re free and prosperous, that is just not true. Osama Bin Laden and Al-Qaeda have been explicit (boos begin).They have been explicit and they wrote and said, ‘We attacked America bcause you had bases on our holy land of Saudi Arabia. You do not give Palestinians fair treatment and you have been bombing (boos intensify) I’m trying to get you to understand what the motive was behind the bombing. At the same time, we had been bombing and killing hundreds of thousands of Iraqis for ten years. Would you be annoyed? If you’re not annoyed, there’s some problem.

Paul was also involved in the other major audience flare-up, when host Wolf Blitzer asked him about healthcare costs:

BLITZER: You’re a physician, Ron Paul, so you’re a doctor, you know something about this subject. Let me ask you this hypothetical question: a healthy 30-year-old young man has a good job, makes a good living, but decides, ‘You know what? I’m not gonna spend $200 or $300 a month ’cause I’m healthy, I don’t need it. But something terrible happens, all of a sudden he needs it. Who’s gonna pay for, if he goes into a coma -

PAUL: In a society that expects welfareism and socialism, he expects the government to take care of it.

BLITZER: What do you want?

PAUL: What he should do is whatever he wants to do and assume responsibility for himself. My advice for him would have a major medical policy.

BLITZER: But he doesn’t have that. He doesn’t have it and he needs intensive care for six months. Who pays?

PAUL: That’s what freedom is all about – taking your own risks. (Applause) This whole idea that you have to prepare and take care of everybody …

BLITZER: But, Congressman, are you saying that society should just let him die?

AUDIENCE MEMBERS: Yeah!

Late in the debate, businessman Herman Cain said he would bring “a sense of humor” to the White House if elected, “because America is too uptight.” Right now there’s plenty of comedy to go around in this field, alright – if you’re into gallows humor. It’s gonna be a long race, folks.

Top video courtesy of Crooks and Liars
Other videos courtesy of ThinkProgress

I suppose I should say, by way of introduction, that this is something of an example of the squeaky wheel getting the grease. While Hemant was on a well-deserved vacation (this daily blogging stuff ain’t easy), he had a number of members of the SSA contribute guest blogs. I took offense to one of them, and got up on my horse to shout about it. In a fit of self- aggrandizement I tweeted a link to that post to him, and then promptly went on with my life, my rage spent. Upon returning, Hemant has invited me to write this response and expand somewhat on my argument.

To summarize as succinctly as possible, Derek Miller wrote a guest post in which the basic thesis was that in order to attract more members of minority communities (particularly, in that case, African Americans – it will be to this group I refer for the remainder of this post, but there are similar barriers faced by members of other ethnic groups as well) to the secular/freethought movement, the only thing that could be done was to make the movement more friendly and welcoming in general. A sort of Field of Dreams approach to attracting members of communities of colour – if you build it, they’ll start showing up. I was a bit apoplectic because Mr. Miller has clearly not consulted with, or bothered to listen to, anyone who has been talking about this issue from the minority perspective. This kind of laissez faire approach to recruitment is doomed to fail for reasons I will explain. I’ll also offer some of my own suggestions as to what steps can be taken to more actively include people of colour (PoCs) into the freethinking discussion.

Why don’t black people come to atheist meetings?

The freethinker community has been struggling with this question of late, as more and more speakers have become sufficiently emboldened to decry the lack of ethnic diversity at things like conferences, meetup groups, and other atheist-friendly activities. Increasingly, demands have been going up for a simple answer to this question, and have not been forthcoming. This was, I think, the general thrust of Mr. Miller’s post – there are no simple solutions to this problem. It does not follow, however, that there are no solutions to the problem at all, and we must simply wait for black and brown folks to get over their shyness and start showing up. There are a number of overlapping potential explanations, and until we can begin to see them as a larger context (instead of trying to tackle them one at a time), we’ll simply be spinning our wheels.

There are a few commonly-cited explanations for why black folks just don’t seem to show up:

Atheism as a ‘white people thing’

The face of atheism is, or at least has been, a white one. It’s intimidating for a member of any visible minority community to walk into a room and be the only dark face in the crowd. Whether or not people actually are staring at you (and yes, people do stare), it’s tough to get over the feeling that you don’t fit. Many black people, particularly those in the sciences, are used to being outnumbered, and have figured out a way to deal with it. At the same time, if you’re iffy about showing up to the campus freethinker club or the skeptics in the pub event or the atheist book club, knowing that you’re going to be an outlier is certainly not a point in favour of attendance.

Atheists being racist

If I can echo a statement made by Jen McCreight, it’s not necessarily the case that atheists are more racist than the general population (my suspicion is that we do a pretty good job, by and large), but that it’s more shocking to hear racist talking points from people who pride themselves on rationality and evidence-based decision making. When race comes up as a topic, I’m often mildly amused/horrified to hear the kind of 19th-century ‘scientific racist’ slogans that come out of the mouths of my confreres. I personally have a thick skin about it, knowing that people are well-meaning but just not well-educated. My experience is perhaps a bit atypical, and it only takes a couple of bad experiences to sour the whole idea for you permanently.

The black church

Much has been made of the disproportionate influence that organized religious organizations have over black folks, which may explain, in part, their (our) reluctance to show up to atheist events. The black church goes beyond simple regular religious instruction – in many communities the church takes the place that the government does as a focal point of organization and a social safety net. It’s the lynch pin in many black communities, and distancing one’s self from the church is essentially volunteering to go into exile. To the extent that this prevents many black people from coming out as atheist, this may explain some of the differential participation. However, there are lots of black atheists out there who have already left the church and yet still don’t show, so we can’t simply point at this as the biggest explanatory factor.

Poverty, education, and access

It is no secret that, as a population, black people (particularly in the USA) experience higher levels of poverty than the general population, and definitely a higher level than the white average. This is due to a whole host of factors that are probably outside the scope of the freethinking movement to solve in a timely manner. That being said, socioeconomic factors may have some explanatory power over why black people are less likely to participate. Not every black individual is going to experience more financial hardship than every white individual – to suggest this would be absurd. However, when we talk about this from the level of the population, there is more disincentive for PoCs than for non-PoCs.

Each of these on their own might dissuade individuals from making the decision to attend, but it’s not hard to see how the pressure against participation can accumulate for those who are doing their personal utilitarian calculus.

So how can we be more attractive?

Identifying the problems facing atheists of colour with respect to joining the community is not the same as solving them. One might be tempted to say that these are intractable problems, and all we can do is wait until they resolve themselves over time. That’s certainly how I interpreted Mr. Miller’s response, and many of the comments that followed it. It’s somewhat ironic to watch a group of people who are actively agitating for great separation of church and state, and for greater mainstream acceptance of atheists, to turn around and say “just give it time and it’ll sort itself out.” That line of reasoning coming from an accommodationist theist would be met with derision, and deservedly so. Problems can be solved by committed people willing to take action; we wouldn’t be doing any of this otherwise.

Just to briefly address the above 4 issues I raised as examples:

• We can be more assertive about putting freethinkers of colour in highly-visible positions. I am not talking about bumping Jamal from the mail room to be king of atheism – the assumption that this movement lacks PoCs who are qualified in a variety of fields is wrong, primarily, and racist secondarily.
• We can get serious about talking about race and racism. I’ve long been advocating incorporating anti-racism as a skeptical approach – applying methodological skepticism to racial topics as well as those that are strictly scientific. Just as it took us a while to adopt feminist thought into our lexicon, so too does the effort need to be made to add new tools to our utility belt when it comes to talking about race. While it may not be very interesting from a biological standpoint, understanding race is like understanding theology: just because it’s not real doesn’t mean it doesn’t exert a great deal of influence.
• We can, as Mr. Miller may have been suggesting, make the freethinker community a true community that performs the same function that churches do (minus the chants). Above and beyond simply knowing that each other exist, we can begin mobilizing our collective strength to look out for each other, much the same way we did for Damon Fowler. This will be particularly challenging because of how remote we are from each other – churches are physical entities that are at the centre of both your social and physical community.
• We can take steps to actively reach out to close some of the poverty gap. Major events like TAM or other large-scale events can offer a number of bursaries or scholarships for those that can’t afford to pay. Whether or not you make those tied to ethnic membership is really a decision to be made on a case-by-case basis – there are arguments to be made on both sides. My take on this is that you need to decide how important it is for your organization to have PoCs present, and whether or not you can tolerate doing something that might seem unfair.

Above and beyond these specific remedies, though, there is a larger issue that I think gets less press that was also part of my initial rant. Freethinkers and skeptics have our pet topics: alternative medicine, UFOs, creationism, church/state separation… you know the highlights. I am in no way trying to minimize these topics – they’re all deeply interesting and important. However, these are somewhat esoteric and fringe interests that don’t really speak to the passions of the general public. I know that I personally am more interested in applying skepticism to things like politics, poverty, race, and law. There are many people for whom those interests are part of their daily reality – failing to address those interests means that even those who are technically in your target audience are simply uninterested in debating whether or not chemtrails are more ridiculous than homeopathy.

Concerted effort can change minds.

How do we know that will work?

This is an excellent skeptical question, and I’m glad you asked it. The freethinker movement has, lately, faced two other major fights for increasing diversity. The first was/has been/continues to be the fight to include women. A few forthright women stood up and, despite the pressures against them doing so, spoke out about the lack of female voices in the skeptic community. They challenged many of the assumptions and traditions of the society from which freethought had sprung about the role and abilities of women. We continue to grapple with this issue today, and the fight is far from over, but it’s a lot better than it was say, 20 years ago.

The second major fight was for recognition of issues facing LGBT persons. Freethought is a natural ally in the fight for gay/lesbian/transperson rights, and while initially there was not a lot of enthusiasm for topics that didn’t really fall under the classic ‘skeptical’ umbrella, we eventually (thanks to the hard work of vocal, dare I say ‘strident’, people) made LGBT issues one of the central poles holding up our tent, if you’ll forgive the entendre. To be a freethinker is, now, to be assumed to be queer-friendly. This didn’t happen by accident or by passively making the freethought movement simply a friendlier place – it took effort and active recruitment.

In the same way that we fought and won those battles, we have an opportunity to put in work and solve the problem of a lack of ethnic diversity. We can learn to speak the language of anti- racism, and we can adopt causes that are friendly to those who might not otherwise feel at home in our midst. But above those, we can put actual programs into place designed to actively draw out those fence-sitters of colour who need that little extra ‘nudge’ to get them in the room at the next event. Depending on how well those programs work, we can ask people who come from underrepresented communities what they would do to effect change. Of course, this will also require us to start listening (or get better at listening, excuse me) when people tell us how we can make things better.

Again, all of these proposed solutions are contingent on the assumption that we, both as a community and as individuals, actually care about the lack of diversity within the movement and wish to see the situation improve. If our approach is going to be one of passive diffusion – wait for sufficient numbers of dark-skinned people to find their way into the room such that we can stop harping on this whole ‘diversity’ issue (what is that, anyway?) – then we can just continue to do little. If we don’t care, then we should just say so and be done with it.

(Image Credit: The Guardian)

This week I’m starting a new feature on this blog called “Web Series Spotlight.” I regularly get pitched series by creators and find it difficult to write about all of them, because I often write about trends and bigger ideas, sometimes good, indie series just don’t fit. No longer! The web series market has a larger, oft-discussed curation problem, something which networks and news sites are trying to fix. I figured I’d pitch in.

First up is Chrysalis, an urban web series by filmmaker Nia Malika Dixon. Dixon is a new independent filmmaker, who a few years ago decided to pursue her passion. She didn’t go to film school, instead she learned the old-fashioned way: on set (how refreshing!). Chrysalis is her third short, a five-episode crime drama intended to build investor interest in a feature-length film.

Chrysalis, whose title refers to the cocoon a caterpillar creates before it transforms, tells the story of Jamal, a young Muslim man living in Baltimore with an infant child and a less-than-desirable career choice: drug dealing. The series kicks off by introducing Jamal’s world and an act of violence which sends it into chaos.

The series is dark and moody, intimately shot and confident. It’s worth a look. The first episode, recently released for early fans, is below. But first, let’s hear from Dixon:

Dixon’s passions are thrillers and crime, along the lines of The Wire and Law & Order: SVU. What she adds to the genre is a focus on spiritual struggle: people who have made morally complicated choices at odds with their faith — in this case, Islam. She focuses on strong female characters, though Chrysalis stars a young man.

“I haven’t seen a film in my life where an African American woman stars in it and has to do with that struggle,” Dixon said, referring to a crisis of faith. “I wrote the story that way to show that not just men deal with that.”

Dixon was born and raised in Baltimore, and while the series is not autobiographical, she does understand the circumstances facing her characters. “It’s not my life. It’s the life of others that I’ve grown up with that I know.”

For now, Dixon is enjoying her outsider status as an indie filmmaker telling her own stories. “It’s very difficult to get funding as a director,” she acknowledges, but she adds, “I didn’t want to be a part of the corporate culture of making movies.”

Projects like Chrysalis are small, Dixon understands, but for her are part of a broader project for media change. “You can make change on certain levels, and the entire construct itself is so big. It won’t actually change. That sounds so bleak!”

“I don’t consider myself trying to do an overhaul of the entertainment industry, but I do see myself trying to inject myself as a virus.”

So Richard Dawkins is an asshat. Anyone surprised?

Here’s the comment he left on a thread that discussed sexism:

Dear Muslima

Stop whining, will you. Yes, yes, I know you had your genitals mutilated with a razor blade, and . . . yawn . . . don’t tell me yet again, I know you aren’t allowed to drive a car, and you can’t leave the house without a male relative, and your husband is allowed to beat you, and you’ll be stoned to death if you commit adultery. But stop whining, will you. Think of the suffering your poor American sisters have to put up with.

Only this week I heard of one, she calls herself Skep”chick”, and do you know what happened to her? A man in a hotel elevator invited her back to his room for coffee. I am not exaggerating. He really did. He invited her back to his room for coffee. Of course she said no, and of course he didn’t lay a finger on her, but even so . . .

And you, Muslima, think you have misogyny to complain about! For goodness sake grow up, or at least grow a thicker skin.

Richard

And here’s a brief roundup of what people are saying about it.

The Atlantic Wire:

Several comments, including Watson’s own, hit on exactly what the fight’s about. Dawkins has every right to dismiss Watson’s story and to argue that she was not in a high risk situation. But his attempt to prove how insignificant Watson’s story was by comparing it with the much worse scenario of a Muslim woman’s daily life hurts his argument. The fact that something worse is going on somewhere else does not diminish whatever may be happening here. Also, as Watson points out, Dawkins is admired widely for work criticizing creationism and denouncing the use of religion as an excuse for repressing women in particular. To defend only some women from misogyny and not all, she and others argue, is hypocrtical. (sic)

Shakesville:

Again, he implies that “Muslim women” and “American women” are mutually exclusive groups; again, he implies that American women do not “suffer physically from misogyny,” nor are their lives “substantially damaged by religiously inspired misogyny.”

What Tami Said:

High-profile and influential men, like Dawkins, who use their status to minimize sexism in the West, deny the lived experiences of women, and advance the stupid thinking that all Western women are both white and privileged, poison a well already rank with gender bias. Men like Dawkins who sneer at Western misogyny make Western women’s lives more difficult, including women like Watson who are atheists. So, why should Watson and other women continue to hand Dawkins their money and support, and prop up his influence, when he thinks they’re all a bunch of whiny bitches who should be satisfied getting sexually harassed because somewhere (in those bad, brown, Muslim countries) a woman has it worse?

Lots of people have said lots of things about this, rightfully calling out Dawkins’ male privilege and pointing out that the “there are bigger problems” argument is derailing and silencing.

But very few of these posts have touched on Dawkins’ use of Muslim women specifically. And that’s where we come in.

Richard Dawkins is an atheist, and as an atheist, he believes that organized religion is harmful for women. There are plenty of religious and non-religious thinkers who can level-headedly make the case that organized religions use rooted patriarchal norms to oppress women and often works against their own ideals, but Dawkins is not one of those people. Dawkins uses the stereotype of the oppressed Muslim woman and gives little regard to how his politicized views are received by Muslim women.

So no one should be surprised at his comment above.

But that’s doesn’t make it okay. Dawkins’ comment trades in stereotypes about Muslim women “over there.” Does female genital mutilation happen? Yes. Are women not allowed to drive cars in Saudi Arabia? Yes. Is stoning a thing? Yes. But is Dawkins’ use of these acceptable? No.

It’s unacceptable for Dawkins to make sweeping statements like this because he attaches loaded terms like “female genital mutilation” and “stoning” to a huge, worldwide term like “Muslim women,” and attaches these things to Islam itself, ignoring outside cultural, economic, and social influences. Making blanket statements about FGM and stoning and driving attaches these to all of us, and contributes to the Oppressed Muslim Women stereotype. And you know what that stereotype has done to help us? Nothing.

It’s also just as silencing to female Muslim activists “over there” who are dealing with these issues, and other important ones, such as campaigning for the right to vote, pass their citizenship to their children, or keep custody of their children after divorce. Dawkins is injecting Muslim women “over there” into an issue that concerns us as well (sexual harassment and sexism in belief systems), but uses us to derail this issue.

And what is Dawkins doing to actually help the Muslim women he claims are “mutilated with a razor blade[s],” and “not allowed to drive a car,” and “stoned to death”?

NOT A DAMN THING.

So kindly shut the fuck up, Richard Dawkins, and stop using us as foot soldiers in your crusade against organized religion. We’ll be fine without you.

I Speak For Myself is a collection about connections: the spiritual to the secular. The public self to the private. One community to another. The point is perhaps made most clearly by Nousheen Yousuf-Sadiq in her essay, “Half and Half”:

After all, I am made up of two parts: my Muslim and American identities. My Muslim identity defined half of my personality, character and individuality, while the other half has been determined by my experience growing up as an American. The balance of the two makes me who I am: an American woman who has discovered her hijab is the greatest beauty secret of all.

Though the contributors’ professions and locations are diverse, some commonalities emerge in the stories shared here: curiosity, confusion (usually some variant of the question, “Oh, you’re really from America?”), and the spectre of Islamophobia that flared up in earnest after the Sept. 11 attacks: “We felt our very identity as Americans was being subjected to scrutiny, challenge, and contestation,” writes Washington Post contributor Hadia Mubarak.

In her essay “Roots,” Muslimah Media Watch editor and Racialicious team member Fatemeh Fakhraie opens up with a raw account of the emotions she faces as she watches her parents age, and the prospect of “repaying the ultimate debt” in taking care of them as they get older:

Baba doesn’t take care of himself, his father had a heart attack at this age, he doesn’t exercise. Downwinders Syndrome could give Ma another type of cancer, what if she breaks something …

Who will take me to Iran? Who will take me to see my grandparents’ graves?

How can anyone really know me if they don’t know I have the same laugh and the same short temper as my Baba? How can anyone understand exactly why sounding like my mother freaks me out if they’ve never met her?

God, sweet God.

Fatemeh’s question – How can anyone really know me if …? – is echoed across the collection, as each of the contributors talk about the connections they make that help them weather the challenges they face: The renewed commitment to their faith, and the emergence of allies, both from within the Muslim-American community and from outside, sometimes unexpected places. Zainab Alwan is publicly defended by a teacher; Ayah H. Ibrahim describes a partnership between her Muslim student group and her college’s Hillel chapter; and Maryam Habib Khan’s experience seeing people she met in Afghanistan reconcile her identities as a Muslim woman who works as a supervisor in the US Army Corps of Engineers.

“Connections,” in fact, is the title of Samaa R. Abdurraqib’s contribution, where she talks about how her circle of Muslim friends helped open up her experience with her faith:

We talked about spirituality rather than behavior; we talked about the beauty of being a Muslim woman rather than the restrictions; we talked about the benefits of being in America and practicing Islam rather than the hardships. Islam became more than just simple and meaningless obedience to me. I learned Islam was about nurturing a strong connection with God, and that strong connection is what spawned my obedience.

The strengthening of the various ties described in these stories creates its’ own connection, between the women sharing their experiences and the reader, Muslim or not. As a learning tool, not just about a particular religion but about faith, strength, love and the value of community, I Speak For Myself succeeds, loud and clear.

I Speak For Myself is available for purchase at the book’s website and on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

If you’re in the Washington D.C. area and want to meet some of the contributors to I Speak For Myself tonight, here’s some info for you:

Where: Busboys and Poets, 2021 14th St, Washington, DC
When: Monday, May 16, 6:30 p.m. EST
Who: Nafees Syed, Elham Khatami, Ayah Ibrahim, and Rima Kharuf

It is frustrating and disappointing to catch hell in mainstream society for being Muslim and also within the Muslim community for being African-American. When I am not perceived as an oppressed Muslim woman in need of liberation, I am seen as an ignorant and potentially unruly black woman.
- Jameelah Xochitl Medina, PhD candidate and author, excerpted from I Speak For Myself (via The Christian Science Monitor)

At a time when America’s Muslim communities are constantly under scrutiny by both the media and political figures, I Speak For Myself is an especially relevant – and especially necessary – work.

Edited by Maria Ebrahimji, an executive producer for CNN, and Zahra Suratwala, a writer and business consultant based out of Chicago, ISFM is a collection of 40 essays by American Muslim women. And I’m pleased to no end to report that among them is our friend, recognized badass and editor of Muslimah Media Watch, Fatemeh Fakhraie, whose essay was highlighted in MMW’s own review of the book:

Perhaps put most intimately by Fatemeh is the theme of longing for the country of our parents as a means to getting closer to our identity. She writes,

“Searching for himself and a better life drew Baba away from the Islamic Republic of Iran; searching for myself and my roots draws me nearer to it. Yet in reality, it is not the republic I am drawn to. Rather, I am trying to get nearer to my father through this land where my ancestors are buried.”

Other reoccurring themes include birth names, balancing hyphenated identities, the need to be validated by both Americans and Muslims and, of course, hijab.

While these themes seem to be woven, to some extent, into each narrative, the narratives themselves are varied in scope.

We’ll have more on ISFM in the coming days, but for now, we want to encourage you to order the book here.

A few weeks ago, Jonah Goldberg wrote an op-ed claiming that feminism’s work in the West is “mostly done” and that’s it’s time to take feminism “overseas” to Muslim women.

We disagree.

Diana: Where do you begin in tearing apart Jonah Goldberg’s “Talking feminism overseas?” I can almost see Gayatri Spivak shaking her head as she waves her finger back and forth, saying as she has before, “white men saving brown women from brown men.”  So much for novelty in the discourse surrounding “third world women.” Can someone please throw something new at us?!

Azra: I’ll admit, after reading Jonah Goldberg’s article, I had to read it again (unfortunately), as I considered the chance that it was an excellent piece of farce. If only that were the case …

Sara: Oh, please, Jonah. Feminism is hardly a completed project in the United States. Who hasn’t ratified CEDAW yet? Measuring access to rights by national boundaries is problematic for a number of reasons. First and foremost, the oasis of equality that Goldberg mentions is a myth, and really only applies to certain groups. The rights of women change according to socioeconomic factors and race.  Drawing empowerment or access to rights through national boundaries or groups pushes injustice into invisibility. Saying that the “work is done” is a flat-out insult to the work of modern American feminists.

Azra: Is feminism over in the United States? I think there are other women who have more eloquently addressed this assertion before. But I will say a few things: 2/7 LA Times Oped columnists are women. In 2011, 16.4% of US Congress members are women—irrespective of their political leanings. As for health outcomes, women are more susceptible to experiencing mental health conditions than men and are more likely to die of heart disease than men in the United States. The situation is even direr if you are a woman who also belongs to an oft-marginalized group—be it based on religion, sexual orientation, or race.

Fatemeh: And we haven’t even talked about the rates of violence against women in the U.S. Does he honestly think that feminism in the U.S. is just about getting a college degree and making as much money as a man? What about the endemic rates of domestic violence, rape, and harassment?!

Azra: Neglecting to look at how women in the United States are disadvantaged due to societal expectations seems to have become increasingly en vogue over the past few years.  As Americans look abroad to countries undergoing massive political change and conflict, some have condescendingly appointed themselves cultural experts of international gender relations—with a particular interest in Muslim women’s lives. It’s an excellent way to overlook social inequalities American women face here at home and instead look at an “other “ (and hence worse) social inequality faced by Muslim women.

Sara: I do not deny the lack of protection that many Muslim women abroad have, and how religion and culture are used to abuse the rights of women. The fight for equality is not the fight for an “enlightened outsider,” but rather based on giving the right tools to those who want to fight injustice in their communities. At the end of the day, what is most important is to protect the rights of individuals. What really matters is not what faith women practice, or outsourcing Western feminists to save “poor Muslim women,” but actually giving women the tools to fight for their own rights, as defined by themselves.

Diana: Goldberg’s narrow construction of Muslim women as segregated and subjugated through a few cited cases undermines the work that Muslim women overseas are doing for themselves. The reality he overlooks is that women’s equality is already a battle being fought in foreign lands by those women. This fight is so specific to these women that only they have the power to authoritatively negotiate matters of agency from within the framework of existing cultural, social and religious norms, which bear some value to these women, despite the constant scorn heaped on them.

Azra: I’m not sure why Mr. Goldberg doesn’t just come out and say that he means exporting his version of feminism to Muslim women abroad. Because in almost every paragraph following his declaration for exportation, I read some reference to how Muslim women needed to be saved from the specter of sex-crazed, violent Muslim men.

Fatemeh: As if all Muslim women “over there” are cowering in the shadows and waiting for someone to come save them. Ugh.

Diana: Goldberg, don’t tire us with clichéd rhetoric, stop recycling Laura Bush’s campaigns, and please stop stealing the oomph from “behind the veil.”

Azra: God forbid these women—no, ANY woman—be subject to Mr. Goldberg’s definition of feminism.

Readers, you can imagine our surprise when we received an email inviting us to the screening of CNN’s latest documentary for the latest in their In America series.

After all, we had a lot to say about the first few:

Thoughts on CNN’s Black in America Series
Going For Broke: The Racialicious Review of Black In America: Almighty Debt
Latinos Under Siege? A Look At CNN’s Latino In America
Latino In America goes out with a whine
The Fallout from Latino in America

But hey – they offered an advance screening, free breakfast, and a Q & A with Soledad O’Brien and the producers afterward. How could I resist? So Art RSVP’ed and I hopped on the Boltbus and made it to NYC in time for the 9:00 AM screening.

The newest addition to the In America family is called Unwelcome: Muslims Next Door. Here’s the trailer:

The Unwelcome: Muslims Next Door special revolves around the town of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, situated about 35 miles from Nashville. According to O’Brien, her team first heard about the tensions flaring in Murfreesboro when researching the “Ground Zero Mosque.” While the proposed Islamic Center in New York made national headlines, the drama playing out in Murfreesboro illuminated a different issue: how smaller towns were coping with the Islamaphobic rhetoric currently in vogue and how local Muslim populations were beginning to feel the heat.

Unwelcome begins by looking at the community of Murfreesboro, where even amid the fever pitch of hateful rhetoric, the citizens describe each other as neighborly, and defend Murfreesboro as one of the best places to live in America. For decades, Muslims in Murfreesboro have been free to worship as they see fit – there is one Islamic center in the town and around 250 currently practicing Muslims. Some of the Muslims interviewed in the documentary remarked that Murfreesboro remained peaceful and civil even after 9/11 – the idea of Muslims living and worshiping in the town was just a non-issue.

That is until plans to expand the existing Islamic center came to light last year.

The residents cited all kinds of issues to back up their claims as to why the Islamic Center should not be built – many of which were based in bias, ignorance, or just straight up bigotry. Here are a few quotes:

• “Here is this enormous building which is going to be occupied by people who are of the same religion that the people are who we’re fighting in Afghanistan.”
• “Why are they building a mosque and needing 53,000 square feet? That is a lot of square footage.  And it’s going to be a very expensive thing.  Now how are 200 families – or 200 muslims, however many there are – how are they gonna pay for it? I know when we expanded our church, we’re still paying for it.” [Ed Note: The documentary explains what the footage will be used for - in addition to a 10,000 square foot mosque, there will be a gym, cemetery, swimming pool, basketball court, tennis courts, and a small school.]
• “In a post 9/11 world, we should be a little suspicious of any group trying to relocate to this community.”
• “I didn’t say to hate ‘em – I just said we don’t need ‘em here!”
• “It wasn’t Baptists and Catholics that put bombs in the bottom of the World Trade Center.”

The documentary follows a few different people in Murfreesboro looking at how the controversy has impacted them.  Lema Sbenaty, a nineteen year old practicing Muslim sheds a crucial light on all of the controversy, noting that she’s grown up in Murfreesboro and is suddenly seeing an entirely new side of the townsfolk there. Sbenaty’s story is heartbreaking – numerous times during the show, people talk right past her or through her, ignoring her experiences to talk about Sharia Law and the oppression of women in the Middle East.  The documentary also speaks with Imam Osama Ballul (sp? – there were no titles for the correct spelling of surnames in the doc).  Imam Osama (as he is referred to in the doc) talked about his journey from Egypt to the US, landing first in Texas and then moving to Murfreesboro.  Along the way, Imam Osama wed Ivy, a white Methodist who had converted to Islam.  The two have a daughter and led a fairly peaceful life in Murfreesboro, up until recently.  The documentary also interviews opponents of the new center.  Most notable of these are Kevin Fisher (who sites traffic and corruption of the ground water by the cemetery as reasons why he would oppose the construction) and Sally Wall, a longtime Murfreesboro resident who doesn’t believe it is bigotry to oppose the onset of sharia law – which again, is not the issue at hand.

But facts don’t seem to hold the weight they should in the case. In addition to the marches in the street and heated community meetings, some people in Murfreesboro decided to resort to violence and vandalism. Initially, the vandalism began by someone spray painting “not welcome” on the sign proclaiming the site of the new Islamic center. The sign was replaced for free by the sign makers, but eight months later, it was hacked at until it broke in two. Then, after the groundbreaking on the site, someone set fire to the construction equipment:

We’ve often criticized the In America series for presenting stereotypes and providing little to no context for what is happening.  O’Brien and her team have acknowledged some of those issues, and responded by tweaking the idea – instead of doing a bad job of telling multiple stories simultaneously, they instead are drilling down to tell one or two stories that could translate into a variety of contexts.  The shift was immediately evident in this documentary.  The people who were profiled felt real and relatable – even the misguided residents of Murfreesboro reveal more about their own fears than they intend to.  We heard from women both in an out of hijab, from practitioners and imams, received a view of one of the most diverse depictions of Muslims ever seen on television. and

At the end of the hour, most of us in the room were impressed by what was covered, though a few questions arose that I will get to in another post.

Outside of the documentary, CNN’s Belief Blog seeks to fill in some of the stories that didn’t fit into the hour long special. One of these stories is Matthew Miller, a 30 year old convert to Islam who currently lives in Murfreesboro:

Ultimately, the special reveals how easy it is for bigotry to triumph over common sense – and the difficult road facing those in Murfreesboro, who are suddenly considered outsiders in their own hometown.

Unwelcome: Muslims Next Door will air on CNN on Sunday, March 27th, at 8PM ET.  Racialicious will be hosting a live chat and post the rules for the drinking game to those who wish to play along.

By Arturo R. García

Bill Cosby seems to be behind the idea of a “Muslim Cosby Show,” which is understandable – until we remember that he paid for research that contradicts his argument on its behalf.

According to The Root.com’s Jenée Desmond-Harris , Cosby called the site to defend the concept, brought up almost flippantly by CBS’ Katie Couric on her webseries this past December. As part of a panel discussion – which included Desmond-Harris’ colleague, Sheryl Huggins Salomon – Couric made this suggestion:

Maybe we need a Muslim version of The Cosby Show… I know that sounds crazy, I know that sounds crazy. But The Cosby Show did so much to change attitudes about African-Americans in this country, and I think sometimes people are afraid of what they don’t understand — like you, Mo… If they became part of the popular culture …

During the call, Desmond-Harris wrote, Cosby emphasized his show’s focus on the family unit as a way viewers could find common ground:

When I get into taxicabs and/or limousines — and you know the taxicab situation in Washington, D.C.; that’s little Africa — every time I take the cab and I go to the hotel — the Madison, the Jefferson — the guy will look in the rearview mirror with recognition. And then I say, ‘How is the family?’

That’s when [the cab drivers] will break out pictures of the children. These are people from different countries in Africa, all of ‘em males — I’ve not met the females yet. But they talk about the family, they talk about what the children are doing, what they themselves are doing. They work 16 hours a day, and they all echo the same thing: You know why I like that [Cosby] show? Because it’s about family.

Later in the interview, he says a family-friendly show involving American Muslims would “put the truth out” and force the viewers to ask themselves key questions:

Am I a person who needs to change my attitude about [someone]? Was I a hater, and enjoying hating, and enjoying the fact that I really did not understand? That like an awful lot of racists, I didn’t care to know the truth, I just enjoyed hating? In the Muslim religion and culture, it can be different [from what we believe], but it’s what they believe in. If we take the good [from it] and the good works, it’s all there and it’s all about the same thing: Do good unto others. The strength of oneself.

What Cosby doesn’t mention are the less-than-positive results of a study he funded by University of Massachusetts-Amherst professors Sut Jhally and Justin M. Lewis, released in 1992 under the title Enlightened Racism: The Cosby Show, Audiences and the Myth of the American Dream. A synopsis of the findings is posted at Professor Jhally’s website:

[The Cosby Show] promotes the dangerous myth that blacks who don’t “make it” have only themselves to blame. The authors interviewed 52 focus groups, learning that viewers involve themselves deeply with the show and often see it as reality. White viewers can identify with and accept TV’s Huxtable family as “nice” blacks; black viewers appreciate the show’s lack of racial stereotyping. However, the authors argue, The Cosby Show ‘s images of the black upper class — like most images broadcast in recent years — hide and distort how most blacks live, thus relieving white viewers of responsibility for such inequalities.

However, Azeem Ibrahim, a Fellow and Member of the Board of Directors at the Institute for Social Policy and Understanding, defended the idea in a column for Illume Magazine, citing the work of playwright Wajahat Ali as a guidepost:

Ali’s characters bicker, laugh, complain, pontificate and discuss topical issues such as racial profiling, the War in Afghanistan, religious values and the importance of lamb biryani in a refreshingly honest, self critical and amusing manner reflecting the diversity of opinions that exists within Muslim communities.

But the core of the play deals with their very common and universal issues that everyone struggles with on a daily basis regardless of religion or race — questions of identity, purpose, sibling rivalry, dating, and parental expectations. The globalized dialogue, which mixes slang, proper English, Urdu and Arabic, feels authentic and reflects the multicultural mosaic of modern America.

By creating real, complex human characters, who just happen to be Muslim and American, Ali’s play illuminates the beautiful thread of commonality that exists and is shared between two allegedly alien cultures that some incorrectly assume are destined to clash. The play is a rare cultural story that simultaneously satisfies both Muslim and non Muslim audiences and proves conclusively that being Muslim and American is not mutually exclusive.

Plays like The Domestic Crusaders and TV shows like The Cosby Show cannot shoulder the burden in magically erasing bigotry and the cultural divides that persist. However, these universal stories, in conjunction with active political and civic engagement, education, responsible and effective foreign policy, fair and balanced stories by the media, and successful partnerships with multicultural communities, can help eliminate fear and misunderstanding.

Phrased like that, the thought of an American counterpart to Canada’s Little Mosque On The Prairie sounds more plausible. But if anything, a more informal “study” by The Daily Show’s Aasif Mandvi showed … well, it’s apparently going to take a lot to win over the “average American”:

In the story, Mandvi interviews Cordoba Initiative chairman Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf and Dr. Alvin Poussaint, a consultant on The Cosby Show, before unveiling a near pitch-perfect mock-up of the show featuring a suburbanite family – the teenage son listens to Toby Keith! – to a focus group that is less than receptive, offering up these critiques:

• “If you’re trying to portray Islam, maybe you should talk about Islam.”
• “You gotta have that closet terrorist or something.”
• “You could have, like, an uncle Rahib or something, who came over and he’s a Bedouin and he lives in the basement in a sandbox or something, with a goat.”

Like a lot of the Daily’s best stories, Mandvi’s conclusion is as cringe-worthy as it is true: “Apparently, the best way for a show to combat Muslim stereotypes is to confirm Muslim stereotypes.” It would seem Jhally’s and Lewis’ findings still hold up.

The thought of writing about my faith terrifies me.

This terror is (mostly) irrational.

Convinced that most secular progressives would launch into a tirade about the evils of the church, (or worse respond with a measured, “Really?” maintain conversation but narrow their eyes and draw their wine glasses closer to their bodies, warding against my offensive Jesus vibes) I tend to keep my religion under wraps.

It’s kind of absurd, really, given the fact that my encounters with these militant secular progressives are entirely imaginary.

Yet, for reasons I shall soon elucidate (reasons both founded and unfounded), I’ve always felt the need to store up an arsenal of defenses, to have in place a series of ‘BUTS’ to interject in case the words  “Yes I’m a Christian” accidentally (always accidentally) slip out of my mouth. It’s really a great exercise in compound sentence formation:

“Yes, I’m a Christian…BUT I support gay marriage,” or

“Yes, I’m a Christian… BUT I’m pro-choice.”

I’ve never had to use these arguments, but when I’m putting off writing a paper or doing an especially mundane activity, I imagine confronting these incendiary secular progressives, and showing them calmly, rationally how I can be both an evangelical Christian and progressive.

But I’ve gotten tired of (hypothetically) defending myself.

I guess these insecurities/weird, imaginary conversations with WASP-y secular progressives began when I moved to America for good in middle school. (Brief background history: my parents are Nigerian, my twin sister and I were born in England, we moved to Gambia when I was four, had a brief stint in Ohio, went back to Gambia, hit up England again, and then moved to Rhode Island to settle in the US for good).

Those were challenging times, man.

Here we were, tall, skinny, dark-skinned black girls with buck teeth and English accents. Armed only with a superficial Babysitters’ Club based knowledge of American preteenager-dom, I was at a loss for quite some time, trying to navigate the confusing world of adolescence.

But soon, both my sister and I came up with a solution. We stuck out like a sour thumb already so why not run with our difference?

So we became that strange, ludicrous, paradoxical human being also known as the black conservative.

I’m not quite sure how it started. I was certainly influenced by my parents who, like a lot of African immigrants, are socially conservative. But somehow I took it to a whole other level. To make matters worse, I married my religious beliefs with my political ones and the results were (as you would imagine) bizarre and comical. I’d slip in references to ‘the Creator’ in my Science papers.  I’d quote Psalms 139 as I’d write about the evils of abortion for my Social Studies class. I watched The O’Reilly Factor every night. Did I mention I lived in Rhode Island—one of the most liberal states in the union?

Gradually, however, my political orientation began to shift. There are a host of reasons why this happened, many of which are too personal and cumbersome to delve into right now, but suffice it to say, by the time I was a senior in high school, my reputation had changed. Granted, moving to another state helped facilitate that transformation, but my sister and I were no longer known as ‘the Bible thumpers.’ We were now the race provocateurs– the ones that couldn’t go a day without bringing up some race-related issue or railing against our sexist, patriarchal society. But even though my political alignments changed drastically, my religious beliefs remained, largely, in tact.

Now a junior in college, I’m at a weird place. I’ve gone from Focus on the Family to Feministing.  And both (albeit one a lot more than the other) have made some valid points over the years; yet the one-dimensionality with which each views the ‘other side’ is appalling. And, frankly, expected on one website, but not so much on the other.

Bloggers on Feministing regularly refer to fundamental Christians as ‘fundies.’ They once posted a (clearly) satirical rap song and cited a (clearly tongue-in-cheek) blog post on Stuff Christians Like about the “Christian side hug,’ presenting it in a very ‘look-at-what-those-crazy-prudish-homophobic-Christians-are-listening-to-these-days’ kind of way.

For Focus on the Family to have a movie review website dedicated to reducing films to their positive or negative ‘moral’ elements is to be expected. For a progressive, feminist site like Feministing to stereotype so crudely is not.

So often I feel like a minority within a minority within a minority. I so desperately want to participate in these conversations about race and sexuality and pop culture. Slut-shaming on the college campus! Let’s talk about it! Modern Family’s increasingly problematic racial jokes? Check! But so often, I stop myself from joining in, because at some point I fear my religion will come up and I’ll have to apologize or answer for any and all of the Church’s flaws.

I know that a lot of Racialicious readers have been burned by the Church. I’ve read your comments. I’ve seen the grateful, positively giddy exclamations of “Thank goodness I’m not the only one who (fill in the blank) by the church” or of “Thank goodness I’m not the only black agnostic!” or whatever it is.

I understand. I really do. My sister is currently working through her own religious issues and Nigerian parents can make that ish especially hard.

But.

Here’s my ‘but.’

I have a story to share too. As a Christian. An evangelical Christian. One who has really felt the transformative power of Jesus Christ in my life (I know; you’re cringing.) And I suspect that there might be more of us in the progressive blogosphere than we let on. And by us I mean, those progressive Christians who read Racialicous or WhatTamiSaid or TransGriot or AngryAsianMan and agree with a lot of the posts and might want delve in, have their toes touch the proverbial water, so to speak, but are too afraid to do it because they feel like they’ll just have to keep apologizing and qualifying over and over again. And, man, I’m tired of all the guilt. I became a Christian to escape all that guilt.

Sometimes the progressive blogosphere can be strangely homogenous—so diverse in so many ways, and yet when it comes to its views on Christianity—so disappointingly unvarying.

But I’m not writing this to whine. Just to give myself some courage. To free myself from (mostly) imagined fears of rejection. Let everybody know where my privilege comes in, what my background is, before I dive headfirst into the crevasse (remember that 30 Rock episode?) and become more engaged in this progressive blogosphere that I call my home.

by Guest Contributor Brandann R. Hill-Mann

I think there are many things that have ruined some perceptions of what The First Time should be like for people delving into the more amorous acts of relationships. Especially for young people, I would say. There is the TV magic of wandering off at a party somewhere into a beautifully made up and wondrously never drunkenly stumbled into by giggling party-goers room. There is the blog article written by the well-intentioned author who means to prepare the multitudes of people out there ready to get into the saddle by telling them that a few condoms and some water-based lube will be all they need to pop that cherry. People in movies almost never seem to have to worry about the dynamics of bad sex education and having been told their whole lives that women don’t need orgasms or are worth less if they have been “spoiled” before marriage. How often do we get to hear the nagging in their heads of how years of conservative religious indoctrination has told them that enjoying sex will make them less worthy of love and respect, or see how that will affect their self-esteem and mental health? I think the effects of Christian teachings is an important lens through which to view the topic of first sexual experiences, and how to best prepare young followers (or any people, really) for them.

I remember my sex education in high school, and have written about it. I remember being split into the generic “boys” and “girls” groups with no mind whatsoever to orientation or the gamut of gender possibility, and being taken into separate rooms to be given the big secrets that the other team wasn’t supposed to know. Somewhere in the girls’ playbook was the ever-important “’blue balls’ don’t exist and are just a ploy to get you into bed” chat. We learned about the basics of STIs and not being a slut because you would get pregnant and never amount to anything because, then, who would love you? I was out the day we played with condoms, and no one had the memo back then that spermicide was bad for you. Summed up, there wasn’t a lot that was going to help, but a lot that would put fear into you. If anyone had been willing to admit that 95% of adults confess to having premarital sex perhaps comprehensive sexual education might have been on the rise, but alas, it was not to be for me or many of my classmates.

Added to that was the supplemental education I received from the Christian church of which I was a member at the time, and surprisingly, there was a bit of cross-over. Be careful not to give yourself away, lest you be soiled like duct tape, and who would ever want a dirty roll of duct tape for a spouse (ahh…the ultimate goal, amirite)? Sex, was supposed to be awful because even wives had to be commanded to submit to their husbands, and for all of the time we were supposed to spend not talking about, thinking about, or doing It, we heard about It all the time. It was bad, dirty, and shameful.

But sex was all I could think about, because it seemed like it was all that was coming down from the pulpit some days.

Without going into a ton of detail, I didn’t have a lot of stable things going on my 18 year-old life, but the non-platonic love of a young man who was the first example of what unconditional love in a romantic relationship was like? That I had. And it was stable and good and my whole world crashed to a halt when I saw him. All I knew from morning ‘til night was that he made me happy and he loved me and that I trusted him more than I trusted myself. If that didn’t deserve an incredible act of displaying outwardly the love I felt inside, then I wasn’t sure I understood love at all – and part of me still holds to that. I can safely say that it wasn’t for a lack of effort that I didn’t succeed in my thought process, but aside from the fact that my health education failed to issue me a hand mirror so I’d know where all the parts went, the horrible guilt that welled up inside me made me chicken out every time and pull back in shame. My v-card bought me passage through graduation, but the guilt collected enough interest and the bill read that I didn’t deserve that boy anymore and I no longer trusted myself around him. I ended the relationship, rather harshly and fairly unceremoniously, before leaving for college.

The self-destructive course of physical zest I set myself upon began when I decided that the simple act of wanting to enjoy carnal pleasures were enough to make me impure – after all, what is done in thought is as good as deed as far as Biblical teaching goes. I, as a woman, had to be used to carrying the sins of man anyhow (I Timothy 2:11-15), so what did it matter if I indulged in what I wanted now if I was already soiled, right? I was damaged goods. So, with the guilt of my self-worth being destroyed in me, I engaged in risky behavior. Lacking the proper sexual education to know where to access things like birth control, and being too ashamed to talk to any adults I knew to find out, I could have really wound up in a jam much earlier than I did. If sex was dirty, then certainly asking for birth control advice would be akin to joining a brothel in the eyes of most of the people I knew. I had a detached relationship with my parents, and the people I usually turned to for advice was my church family. I didn’t see how I was going to get any help there. I was fearful of the repercussions and of losing the only support system I had. All the information in the world was not worth the isolation of losing more family.

With no respite from the guilt, and despite the fact that my First Time was actually in the arms of an incredibly gentle, and caring man who meant me nothing but goodness, the pounding thoughts of Shame!, Doom!, and Sin!, sent a haunting message that I didn’t deserve a person who was so kind. I was allowed no moment’s comfort nor enjoyment. We only had sex that one time, because I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy the thought of sex again with all of the shame in my head. Once again, at the first sign of intimacy with someone who was considerate and understanding I bolted. The more depressed I became the more my Christian values bore down on me, fortifying the wall of self-deprecation. I couldn’t convince myself that I deserved anything better than the quasi-to-actually abusive and messy relationships that I sought out after that. I found momentary solace in a relationship that never came to fruition with someone who seemed equally as broken as I was, and a friendship grew from the wake of two depressed people searching for God-knows-what in a tumult of unhealthy commiserating – and lots of beer and absinthe. That friendship wound up being the most positive thing that came from that period of my life right up until I became a mother at 22.

That guilt and shame had spiraled me into so much self-hatred that I had stopped eating, was drinking at least one meal a day, and was on the verge of dropping out of college due to sleeping through all of my classes. I hated myself so much for being so weak and unable to clean myself of the sins; sins that I seemed to morbidly enjoy committing because they felt good and that I didn’t really want to stop enjoying. All of that wasn’t removed by my merge with pregnancy and motherhood, but it did give me cause to leave the Church for good – something which had seemed a long time coming when I thought about it. While leaving the burden of God’s judgment behind did free up some of the looming feelings of foreboding, it was a long time of living with depression before I was able to heal and to move on to forming healthy sexual relationships. Well, one, and it actually stuck.

If instead of guilt and shame, which are great manipulating tools, mainstream Christian groups used their sway over the minds of the young people flocked into their churches to educate them on all of the choices out there that could keep them safe and informed they would do more of a service for the mental health of many young people exploring sexuality. Enforcing this minority morality as if it is the only dominating culture gives the idea that all of religion views sex through this viewfinder, when in fact many world religions are on a different reel altogether. We have seen that sex doesn’t affect the mental health of young people like we have been told in the past. Sex doesn’t destroy you, even the “casual” kind, and yet, spiritually speaking, authority figures are sending young people out with the idea that the value of their whole self depends on abstaining because it is harmful.

Sex is a perfectly healthy part of being human, and instead of denying it, and pretending that young people are just going to follow the fear and not do it, perhaps it would be better to join forces with those advocates of comprehensive sexual education. I wonder how many young people are too afraid to talk with trusted adult (and how trusted can they be if you can’t talk to them?) because of the conflagration of sin and sexual impurity. It seems, at least to me, that telling people that their self-worth is based on their sexual purity is something that will impact their happiness. Keeping young people healthy by teaching them that they have resources and support systems for answers to important questions can also impact their happiness.

Howard University recently hosted a panel of atheists to discuss the topic of “Science and Faith in the Black Community” — certainly a topic that needs far more attention that it has received in the past.

The event was sponsored by the Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science and the panelists included Richard Dawkins, Anthony Pinn, Sikivu Hutchinson, and Todd Stiefel. Mark Hatcher, the president of the Secular Students at Howard University, was the moderator:

Professor Anthony Pinn, Religious Studies at Rice University: “This is an ideal time and this event is an important opportunity to stress the importance for African Americans to critically engage the world and, through reasonable means, assess the issues impinging upon quality of life for African Americans across the country.”

Dr. Sikivu Hutchinson, noted author and activist: ”The Black Church’s policing of the bodies and destinies of black women and the lives of black gays and lesbians represents a bankrupt ‘morality’ which is just as pernicious as that of the Religious Right…if being black and being Christian are synonymous, then being black, female and religious (whatever the denomination) is practically compulsory. Insofar as atheism and humanism provide an implicit rejection of both black patriarchy and ‘authentic’ blackness, those who would dare to come out of the closet as atheists are potential race traitors.”

I only had a chance to watch the beginning, but I can’t wait to sit down and see the entire thing.

In the meantime, any thoughts on what they discuss in the video? Any parts we should watch in particular? (Please leave a timestamp if that’s the case!)

(Thanks to Claudia and Mab for the link!)

By Guest Contributor Safiyyah Surtee, cross-posted from Muslimah Media Watch

Several weeks after Eid al-Fitr, it’s a good time to analyze the recent media embroglio about women and Eid prayers in South Africa. The ways in which South African Muslims interact with the media has changed drastically in the last few years with the rise of social media, and this has reflected itself especially in what has been called “the desktop gender jihad” (women using the internet to fight, lobby and advocate for their rights).

In the weeks following Eid al-Fitr, a group of South African women from different cities and affiliated with different groups put their heads together to make a statement: Women have the right to attend Eid prayers. Traditionally, South African Muslim women in the north have been barred from attending the prayers, as part of the dominant mindset of women as a source “temptation” and “distraction.” Muslims in the South, especially in the Cape, have always had women as part of their congregations. These differences are sometimes attributed to ethnicity and sometimes to madhab (school of law).

The campaign to attend Eid prayer was carried out using various media channels, including radio and television interviews, newspaper articles, blog posts and social media updates.  I’d like to look at how Muslim women used the media to further their campaign, as well the counter-attacks launched by a number of Muslim media agencies.

South African Muslims love pamphleteering. The first pamphlet was undertaken by members of the Masjid-ul-Islam (a Johannesburg-based mosque that is inclusive to both men and women), entitled “Eid Bytes,” consisting of a number of prophetic traditions relating to women and the Eid prayer. Then, numerous articles appeared in small but widely read community newspapers in Johannesburg, such as the Fordsburg Independent and The Rising Sun, putting out a message in the public space: Muslim women will not sit back and accept a status quo that usurps their right to participation in religious life.

Another significant highlight in the campaign is the contribution by journalist and Islamic scholar Quraysha Sooliman, who wrote extensively about the matter during Ramadan using both traditional knowledge and journalistic know-how to educate as many women as possible.  She and Farhana Ismail, another community journalist, were catalysts in giving the campaign momentum through their community paper articles, radio and television interviews. For me, these women are Muslim women with voices, loud voices, speaking for themselves.

Sooliman, who writes with power and confidence, routinely asks pressing questions in the media about the logic of some of the scholars.  In one article, she responds to a fatwa  by Mufti Abdul-Qadir Hussein on the Channel Islam International (CII) radio station:

We would like to ask the Mufti if all the scholars and muftis and Imams in all the other parts of the world are wrong in allowing women to attend the mosques and in demanding that they participate in the Eid salaah, and only Indian-Pakistani and a handful of South African scholars are right? And by the same token is the Mufti suggesting that all South African women have no morals and respect for the etiquette of the mosque? Is it correct to make such sweeping generalizations, or should the scholars rather focus on teaching the community the correct etiquette through encouraging them to attend?

Ismail was on the receiving end of the said mufti’s ire when she went live on CII after securing an interview to discuss the matter. Hussein was outraged that she had been allowed to air her views, and immediately went on a rampage, calling all women involved in the matter “the party of Satan.”

Another jarring example of public libel is the booklet making its rounds, entitled “A Dumb Woman’s View and its Refutation.” (pictured right) To make matters worse, the booklet is pink! It serves as an attack on Sooliman’s work, and repeatedly calls her “dumb,” “stupid,” “intellectually deficient,” “corrupt,” and a number of other expletives. The level of engagement is shocking, and speaks of frightened and injured male egos.

It has become common for men to target women who question, think independently and make informed decisions, and attack their personalities, their faith and their morality. This was quite apparent when the radio station allowed the mufti to slur women involved in the campaign. The station even went as far as to include the story in their news bulletin as a headline! To their credit, however, the station did open their lines the next morning for the listeners to voice their opinions, and the results were roughly equal in those for and against women’s inclusion.

The Voice of the Cape, a Cape Town-based radio station, a voice of sanity amidst the chaos, featured an article on their website delving into the issue. The article looks at the history of Northern Muslims and asserts that the dominant narrative has been one of women’s exclusion because of patriarchy and not religious tradition. The station is part of the Cape scene, where Muslim women are always accommodated in ritual life, and their support for Muslim women in the North has always been received graciously.

While Muslims consider Islam to be a religion that promotes the equal rights of both men and women, there remains a dominant patriarchal ideology among local ulema—one of the main stumbling blocks to elevating the status of women in society. This is the view of Professor Abdulkader Tayob from the Centre for Contemporary Islam at the University of Cape Town (UCT), in his analysis of an academic debate on the permissibility of women attending the Eid salaah:

The sensitive issue has ignited much discussion in Gauteng after a well-known mufti publicly condemned women for attending the Eidgah (Eid prayer, usually in an open field), sparking outrage from a network of progressive Muslim women who then issued a rebuttal to the scholar. The current debate not only centers around why women have been excluded from this sacred prayer, but also questions the prevailing sexist attitudes that exist amongst the ulema, which go against the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh).

South African Muslim women have an increased visibility in the media, on the internet and in public. Community members were made aware of the campaign via media channels; the media also played the role of the battle ground, where the different sides went to war with each other with numerous rebuttals and counter-rebuttals. One message was clear: women are questioning the use and abuse of authority by the clergy, especially in the media.

Has all of this translated into concrete change? I would say yes. Not only was this the most talked about affair in the Muslim community, but the Eid prayer I attended saw a one-third increase in female attendants, as did the service attended by Sooliman. Women were also accommodated for the first time in various other smaller congregations, and a few women even attended an Eid prayer reserved solely for men in the Indian dominated community of Lenasia, a small town just outside Johannesburg. Their voices are being heard, loud and clear, and they resonate with many.

Compiled By Arturo R. García

“I feel like his music is where it all came together, and when we think of ’60s soul music it all started with Solomon Burke.”
- Andy Kaulkin, president, Anti-Records, as quoted in The Associated Press

“Cry to Me” is arguably the song Burke will be best known for – due in part to its use during a key, and very sexy, moment in the film “Dirty Dancing.” In the scene, a shirtless Patrick Swayze seduces a very willing Jennifer Grey (or vice versa) while the song plays in the background. That it’s used as a sexual prelude in the film is almost an affront to the song; what the two characters are doing is exactly what Burke desires, but can’t have.

But unlike in “Dirty Dancing,” in the song there is no romance, just a longing for it. All Burke has is her voice in his head, and so desperate is he that even crying is preferable to nothing at all. He’s not even looking for laughter at this point. Just her presence, and her scent, and her tears.
- Randall Roberts, Los Angeles Times

What I try to do in my music is show how you can come out of the blues and turn the page in life. Someone has to keep the message positive. Someone has to say when you come to the crossroads in life you have to make the right turn. You can’t stand there; you’ve got to keep moving on.
- Solomon Burke, as quoted in Baltimore City Paper, 2005

When he sings, he sits on a throne, wears a fedora and purple lamé suit and fills the hall with his always positive personality. When he isn’t singing, he puts on a natty three-piece suit and holds forth from his wheelchair, which could more aptly be called a mobile pulpit. Burke speaks with such enthusiasm that you half expect him to flap his arms, fly up to the ceiling and throw lightning bolts of joy at all the earthbound pedestrians below.
- Charles M. Young, Rolling Stone

Solomon gave me unconditional love before I even knew the meaning of the words. He had a huge body which finally couldn’t stand him up as his plane landed this morning in Amsterdam. But his voice was bigger and his heart overshadowed them both.

I love you, dear Solomon. Thank you for that big heart. I don’t know who’s gonna protect my ass with you gone.
- Shawn Amos, Huffington Post

You get on the journey that says you’re going to be 70 this year. This is the time to do the things you promised to do. Do the things you’re supposed to do in the time that the Lord has allowed you to continue to be here. And, gosh, when I look back on my life, as Nat ‘King’ Cole sings, I see all my friends who already made another journey, so it’s time to do all the things I can. I’m so blessed with all my family. What a beautiful moment to make this decade a foundation to do the best things that I can.
- Solomon Burke, as quoted in Rolling Stone

I was unhappy to read that “Draw Muhammad Day” creator Molly Norris had voluntarily gone into hiding. While I thought the concept of “Draw Muhammad Day” was ridiculous and viewed it in the same light as the South Park episode that supposedly depicted the prophet, I recognize that Norris’ intent wasn’t to be offensive or malicious. In Islam, intentions count for something just like actions, and no one should be punished for simple naïveté. It’s atrocious that Norris has received threats and feels unsafe enough to go incognito.

Which is why I’ve added my name to the list of American Muslims in the media who support Molly Norris and her right to free speech. My signature on a statement isn’t going to do much for her, but I hope she understands that she has our support.

A DEFENSE OF FREE SPEECH BY AMERICAN AND CANADIAN MUSLIMS

We, the undersigned, unconditionally condemn any intimidation or threats of violence directed against any individual or group exercising the rights of freedom of religion and speech; even when that speech may be perceived as hurtful or reprehensible.

We are concerned and saddened by the recent wave of vitriolic anti-Muslim and anti-Islamic sentiment that is being expressed across our nation.

We are even more concerned and saddened by threats that have been made against individual writers, cartoonists, and others by a minority of Muslims. We see these as a greater offense against Islam than any cartoon, Qur’an burning, or other speech could ever be deemed.

We affirm the right of free speech for Molly Norris, Matt Stone, Trey Parker, and all others including ourselves.

As Muslims, we must set an example of justice, patience, tolerance, respect, and forgiveness.

The Qur’an enjoins Muslims to:
* bear witness to Islam through our good example (2:143);
* restrain anger and pardon people (3:133-134 and 24:22);
* remain patient in adversity (3186);
* stand firmly for justice (4:135);
* not let the hatred of others swerve us from justice (5:8);
* respect the sanctity of life (5:32);
* turn away from those who mock Islam (6:68 and 28:55);
* hold to forgiveness, command what is right, and turn away from the ignorant (7:199);
* restrain ourselves from rash responses (16:125-128);
* pass by worthless talk with dignity (25:72); and
* repel evil with what is better (41:34).

Islam calls for vigorous condemnation of both hateful speech and hateful acts, but always within the boundaries of the law. It is of the utmost importance that we react, not out of reflexive emotion, but with dignity and intelligence, in accordance with both our religious precepts and the laws of our country.

We uphold the First Amendment of the US Constitution and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Both protect freedom of religion and speech, because both protections are fundamental to defending minorities from the whims of the majority.

We therefore call on all Muslims in the United States, Canada and abroad to refrain from violence. We should see the challenges we face today as an opportunity to sideline the voices of hate—not reward them with further attention—by engaging our communities in constructive dialogue about the true principles of Islam, and the true principles of democracy, both of which stress the importance of freedom of religion and tolerance.

You can see the entire statement and signatories here. May God keep you safe, Molly Norris, wherever you are.

When I first saw Off and Running I was immediately taken, but then again, my own personal investment in the film’s subject matter was considerable. Like Avery, I’m an adopted Jew of color from New York City. I see only dualities in my maturation, which has been a series of racially charged incidents quelled by moments of encouragement by people and institutions that worked together in a bizarre alchemy to create me.

As a young child my parents sat me down and explained it was important for me to find a faith of which to be a part. I grew up in the predominantly liberal and Jewish bastion of New York City called the Upper West side and at the ripe age of 9, it was Judaism that I felt most connected to; it was what I knew best. I began to attend a Schul after school where we were taught stories from the Bible, Yiddish and about our history and culture. I liked the friends I made and the stories I heard at Schul. The formation of my Jewish identity at that age was informed by Schul where there were transnationally adopted Jews to my right and left and by my neighborhood where I felt my family the apotheosis of what the 21st century family looked like. At 9 years old, I thought being bi-racial and Jewish was a magical marriage of identities.

At 13 years old, in the planning stages of my Bat Mitzvah, my Hebrew School teacher called a meeting at his home to discuss details. He opened his door to see me, my father who is an Ashkenazi Jew and my black mother. Upon seeing my family, without asking, he regrettably informed us that the synagogue, would not allow me to perform the right of passage in their temple because my mother wasn’t a Jew. My wily mother, coyly and smarmily responded “oh, but her mother is Jewish.”

Yes, it turns out my biological mother is a white Ashkenazi Jew.

And with these words, my Hebrew school teacher, as though I was caught in the Woody Allen version of my own life as a film, threw his hands into the air and exclaimed “it’s Bashert [it’s destiny] then! You’ll have your Bat Mitzvah in the Temple!” In that moment I felt a definitive rage. I wanted desperately to be a part of the Upper West Side’s most exclusive and popular clique, Judaism, but felt what would prove to be an indelible stake in this idea of blackness, something pitted against Jewishness. And so there it was, in the home of my Hebrew School teacher that the two were separated, like oil and water.

I was Black and Jewish but I couldn’t be both, I couldn’t be a Black Jew.

I chose not to have a Bat Mitzvah. I did not want play into the manipulations of the Jewish matrilineal system, making me Jewish because my adoptive mother, my actual mother, was not Jewish. My Jewish “blood line” felt tenuous and foreign and I did not want to take part in a brand of Judaism that did not accept that I was Jewish because my father was Jewish. And so I began to create my own rules.

My Jewish identity became an amalgamation of the cultural extensions of the religion. I ate bagels from Murray’s Sturgeon Shop on 90th and Broadway, sang Yiddish songs and memorialized the Holocaust in the “Culturally Jewish” Camp Kinderland and attended Seders at my aunts house. But my connection to the religion was jaded and superficial. It was as though I wore a “Jewish” badge when I felt as though it would benefit or help me to fit in better, but didn’t believe in it at my core, having been turned away because of my race. I could wear Judaism like a person wears a cloak, removing it when I came into my room, putting it on to perform for others.

Last December my roommate decided to throw a Shabbos dinner. It was also the first night of Chanukah. I created a makeshift Menorah in our kitchen, since we did not have one. When I emerged from the kitchen with my creation, I stood in front of it like a proud mother. I quieted the small living room and began to recite the prayer. Most people, even the one or two that weren’t Jewish knew (at least) some of it, the beginning, “Barukh atah Adonai” being the loudest, but by the third verse, the one that you recite only on the Friday of Chanukah, all but three of the twenty people dropped out; me, my roommate and one young man.

After it was over I began to exit the room and was stopped by the same young man that had accompanied me in the last verse.

He insisted, “You’re not Jewish, are you?”

I replied calmly, coolly “Yes, yes I am.”

He replied “But you’re not like, Jewish, Jewish, right? I mean, you don’t look Jewish.”

I walked out of the room. But not without overhearing him whisper to his friend “I mean, c’mon, give me a break, she looks Indian or something, did Sara teach her that prayer do you think?” I left the house after that. It was the first time I’d cried since the day I left my Hebrew School Teacher’s house and written off any formal tie to Judaism. It was then that I realized I was unable to remove my imaginary cloak. The cloak, the performance of Judaism, turned out to be a projection of real desire to feel accepted. I realized I the liberal isolation I had grown up with was not a reflection of race in America and if I wanted to be Jewish I had to make a concerted effort to make people accept me as such.

A few short weeks later I watched Off and Running. In it was one young woman’s unapologetically raw quest to join all identities. Instead of pushing her Judaism away, only allowing it to appear when convenient and comfortable like I had, Avery did not let it go. She allowed Judaism in, steadfast that it was a part of her fabric just as her blackness was becoming. Avery had an incisive understanding that identity is a construction, her blackness another layer of herself that she needed to explore and take from to create. In one of the most poignant moments in the film a therapist asks her “Do you feel black?” to which Avery responds “African-American? I don’t know what that means.” Avery’s transparent and unadulterated battle to find confluence urged me to do the same.

In the time since watching Off and Running I have approached my blackness and my Judaism as two of many other parts working together. I have encountered many Jews of Color who are doing the same. In a recent New York Times article well-known African-American Jewish blogger, Ma Nishtena, asserts that he eats his “gefilte fish as his mother prepares it, seasoned with Jamaican peppers and spices,” harvesting a Judaism that unites his other identities. The documentary Off and Running comes during a moment where American Jewry is at a crossroads. Its face, like Ma Nishtena’s mother’s gefilte fish, is sprinkled with color. The lockstep of conservative American Jewry needs to streamline their identities to complement the generally shifting American consciousness, away from exclusivity, toward sprinkled gefilte fish.

Editor’s Note: Off and Running airs tonight, at 7 PM ET, on PBS. It is also available on Netflix. – LDP