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.

Rolling Ruminations has hosted a blog carnival on White Privilege and the Muslim Ummah. As regular readers know, it gets kind of heavy around here when we start discussing the intersection of race and religion. True to form, the carnival featured a range of opinions. Our favorites are below.

Ginny – Hesitant Thoughts On White Privilege

As a blind white Muslim, I just plain give up in trying to understand how I’m supposed to navigate the complex world of race, disability and religion, because no matter what I do or say, it’s always going to be viewed through the fact that I’m white, and thus everything else is seemingly minimized and seen as an attempt by me to gain some kinda street cred with POC, because “hey I’ve been discriminated just like you”, when that wasn’t even my intention, and I wouldn’t even try to say as much! Because the fact that I had to testify in a court of law to being sexually assaulted, or the fact that I had to give a detailed deposition regarding employment discrimination, or the fact that there are certain websites that are not accessible to me has nothing to do with race, and is a completely different type of discrimination altogether. Yes, I experience white privilege, and I’m sure I do so in ways I don’t realize. However, I don’t think other forms of discrimination should be passed off as nothing, though at the same time, I don’t think that they should be held up as ways that whites “understand” people of color. I’d not go so far as to say that. Because I’ll tell you right now that sighted people will never understand what it’s like to be blind. So as a white person, I can’t tell you what it’s like to be black, or anything else for that matter. All I can tell you is what it’s like to be a blind white Muslim who benefits from white privilege but doesn’t always understand how. And I’m struggling with that. This whole race thing is hard for me to understand, I’m white but I don’t know what that means, only what society tells me it means. I’m supposed to have some kinda privilege, I’m supposed to be on the upper echelons of my society but I don’t feel like it most of the time. Most of the time I feel less than, second best, not as good as. I’m made to feel that I have to work twice as hard, go twice as far, do twice as much. But oh, I’m white, so I’m supposed to have some kind of privilege. And maybe I do, it’s just hard for me to realize what or where that privilege lies.

Muslimah Media Watch – Unpacking the “Culture” Argument

I’m also not comfortable with what this says about white/Western cultures. In this dichotomy, the West is imagined as culture-free, a place where people can let go of the constraints of their home countries in favour of an ostensibly “pure” Islam that can only be found through a disavowal of centuries of traditions (many of which have likely served to preserve Islamic beliefs and practices in many parts of the world.) Westerners (particularly white ones) who enter Islam are assumed to come in with no baggage at all. While it is true that people who become Muslim after having been raised in non-Muslim cultures don’t necessarily bring religiously-sanctioned forms of oppression into it with them, it’s a little simplistic to assume that their Islam will remain untainted by their cultural background.

In addition, white Western cultures are, of course, assumed to be somehow free of ingrained patriarchal tendencies. Oppression and violence against women are seen as individual aberrations rather than culturally located, despite the prevalence of domestic violence and other forms of sexism that are found across Western societies. Other forms of oppression that are also endemic in these societies (racism, economic oppression, and so on) are also never taken up, and certainly never addressed as culturally-derived systems. Whiteness and Western identities are reinforced as superior and above the problems that are found in cultures deemed foreign, rigid and violent. In reality, religious dogmatism and religious justifications for gender-based discrimination and oppression can be found in every culture on this planet (or at least, the vast majority. Let me know if you find any exceptions.) None of us should be assuming that our background or our geographic location makes us immune to these forces.

 Bin Gregory Productions – Oh man, white muslims again

At the same time, the white male convert doesn’t leave white privilege behind, because as long as somebody else is still giving it to you, you still got it, whether you like it or not. I’m not talking about women here. It is very very different for them and I’ll leave them to discuss it. But guys? the white muslim male continues to be treated white the vast majority of the time, at least in my experience. If you get funny looks, it’s because you look funny with that hat on your head, not because they think you’re not a white male. And if they’re still not sure you just say hello and that’s the end of that. I don’t want to say you can’t ever be sized up as non-white at first glance – it’s happened to me plenty of times over the years. But it doesn’t happen much, doesn’t mean much and it’s really not worth making much of. Contrast the dirty look you may have gotten that one time with the numerous sikhs who have been hurt or killed over the years for resembling muslims and you see the difference color makes.

Safiya Outlines – Being Muslim While White Privileged

When a white Muslim communicates with a Muslim of colour, this may be the first communication they have had with any person of colour, where the white person is not communicating as a member of the numerically dominant group, for while white people may be the majority in Western countries, in Islam, they are very much the minority.

Such demographics may lead the white Muslim to feel at a disadvantage, one they have not been socialised with and this leads to many white converts furiously attacking the born Muslims, usually for their lack of “Good Muslimness”, when the real issue is the white convert’s lack of power, compared to that they enjoy being part of a majority in mainstream society.

(Image Credit: Visage Islam)

Be prepared for some major eye-rolling in this article from the Calgary Herald. In it, Mahfooz Kanwar praises Canadian Immigration Minister Jason Kenney (see here for why this is a bad idea), and berates Canadians that he perceives as not having “assimilated” enough. A Muslim originally from Pakistan, Kanwar spends the article extolling the perfection of Canada’s values and culture, and blaming all problems on those immigrants who bring foreign baggage with them into this happy utopia.

Kanwar’s definitions of “Canadian” identity and values are disturbingly narrow. It seems to apply only to those values already existing among people living in Canada, who have good values such as “equality.” People who move to Canada, according to Kanwar, need to adopt Canadian values, and lose (or at least hide) anything they brought from their home country. At no point does Kanwar allow for the possibility that there might be Canadian values that aren’t so great, or that our actual track record for “tolerance” and “equality” isn’t exactly as impressive as we’d like to think. He also never acknowledges that there might be some “foreign” values that could actually enrich or improve Canadian society. Immigrants are called to adopt “mainstream” Canadian ideas and behaviours, and the assumption is that these must be necessarily better than the ideas and behaviours that immigrants brought with them.

Kanwar also calls for all immigrants to be unquestioningly patriotic and undividedly loyal to Canada, which is not a standard that most Canadian-born (and white) Canadians are ever called to adhere to. He writes, for example, that “Those who come here of their own volition and stay here must be truly patriotic Canadians or go back.” As a white Canadian whose family has been here for several generations, I have never been told that I should “go back” anywhere, despite a history of acts that I am sure Kanwar would classify as deeply unpatriotic. I am disturbed at Kanwar’s argument that all immigrants should have to adopt an uncritical sense of national pride in order to belong here, and that there does not appear to be any room for immigrants to be at all critical of Canada (or of the overall concepts of patriotism and nationalism, which I would also argue are worth critiquing) if they want to be considered worthy of living here.

Kanwar’s claim that “I am a Canadian Muslim, not a Muslim Canadian” also worries me. He seems to imply that in order to be acceptable Canadians, Muslims must put Canada first, even above their faith. Without wanting to challenge Kanwar’s own right to identify himself in that way, I would argue that for many (most?) Muslims, to do this would be contrary to their very understanding of Islam. After all, the whole “no god but God” thing isn’t meant to apply only in certain circumstances. Moreover, what’s the point of asking people to rank those identities? Can’t we acknowledge that it’s possible to be fully both (if one so chooses) without having to specify the order in which they’re expressed?

And then there are the weird gender dynamics:

Whoever comes to Canada must learn the limits of our system. We do not kill our daughters or other female members of our families who refuse to wear hijab, niqab or burka which are not mandated by the Qur’an anyway. We do not kill our daughters if they date the “wrong” men. A 17-year-old Sikh girl should not have been killed in British Columbia by her father because she was caught dating a Caucasian man.

We do not practise the dowry system in Canada, and do not kill our brides because they did not bring enough dowry. Millions of female fetuses are aborted every year in India, and millions of female infants have been killed by their parents in India and China. Thousands of brides in India are burned to death in their kitchens because they did not bring enough dowry into a marriage. Some 30,000 Sikhs living abroad took the dowries but abandoned their brides in India in 2005. This is not accepted in Canada.

In some countries, thousands of women are murdered every year for family or religious honour. We should not hide behind political correctness and we should expose the cultural and religious background of these heinous crimes, especially if it happens in Canada. We should also expose those who bring their cultural baggage containing the social custom of female circumcision. I was shocked when I learned about two cases of this barbaric custom practised in St. Catharines, Ont. a few years ago.

He’s not only talking here about Muslims, but many of his comments refer directly or indirectly to Muslim communities. What I find interesting is that almost all of the examples in his article of the problems that immigrants apparently bring to Canada are directly linked to gender. More specifically, it is about what “we” do and do not do to “our” women, as in “we” do not kill our daughters, or our brides.

Reading this, I get the sense that this “we” refers not only to the good, assimilated immigrants (and, of course, to the infallible mainstream non-immigrant Canadian population), but that it also refers, implicitly but rather crucially, to men. Women are present only insofar as their bodies can be used to demonstrate their husbands’ or fathers’ worthiness (or unworthiness) as Canadians. There are some moments where we might imagine the “we” to be potentially female as well, but all gender-specific references to the actors are male, and all of the people being acted upon are female. Moreover, they are “our” women – still possessed by this “us,” and at “our” mercy, with little indication that they are able to act for themselves.

It is ironic that Kanwar speaks so strongly against using women’s bodies to convey matters of honour, and yet proceeds to use women as a way to prove some kind of alternate “good Canadian” identity. Even if this is done only on a rhetorical level, it still constructs women as the representations of cultural identity, symbolic of the level of Canadian-ness that the men in their lives have apparently reached. The unharmed bodies of “our” women are used to support “our” claims to civilisation, while the murdered and injured bodies of women from those “barbaric” communities are further used, in contrast, to demonstrate how far “we” have come. In all cases, the women are still silent and passive.

In this way, Kanwar’s strategy differs less than he might hope from the practices of those he criticises. Although he condemns violence against women, he does so without acknowledging any agency that women may have, or the fact that a society that truly values gender equality might be best to devise ways of expressing such values that go beyond simply proclaiming its merit by listing all the forms of violence that it doesn’t commit. Instead, women in his article are only present to further his point, and to add to an alarmist and xenophobic analysis of Canadian society.

Kanwar’s conclusion, that Canadian values and national identity are being eroded by the influx of immigrants who bring conflicts and loyalties from overseas, erroneously and dangerously paints newcomers to Canada as inherently violent and suspect. Instead of acknowledging that Canada is not perfect, or that it has always benefited from immigration (often in very exploitative ways), this article adds fuel to racist anti-immigrant sentiments. Ironically, it is these sentiments that, I would argue, really are a threat to Canada and to Canadians of all backgrounds.

A couple of weeks ago I had the Toronto launch of my novel, Shine, Coconut Moon. I prepared myself in the usual way, going over what I would read, how I would introduce myself and the book to the guests, and anticipating audience questions during the Q&A. This Q&A, however, threw me off. I should have known better than to expect the usual, “So, when did you know you wanted to be a writer?” line of questioning from my Canadian peeps.

The questions they wanted answers to were more along the lines of: So, what would you say is the difference between Canadian racism and American racism? And, Would you say South Asians in the U.S. are more assimilated than South Asians in Canada?

Maybe I brought it on myself with the intro.

Before reading an excerpt, I talked a bit about how, while living in Canada, I never thought of myself as Canadian – I was always Indian or Punjabi or Sikh and then later, South Asian. It wasn’t until I moved to the U.S. and lived through eight years of the Bush administration, that I felt the most Canadian I’d ever felt in my life. That was when I realized that things I’d always taken for granted (free universal health care being only one of many) were values that formed and shaped who I was. They were the underpinnings of what I thought was right and just. And I was clearly not in Canada anymore.

But having to answer those tough questions for fellow Canadians was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do yet. So much of the experience sits as half-formed thoughts that I had to somehow mold into coherent responses.

Things like the fact that when I lived in Canada, I reveled in my “ethnicity,” wore my Indian-ness with unapologetic joy. But the minute I crossed the border I shrunk from everything that made me appear “too” ethnic. I was hassled at the border several times when I visited home and tried to return. My partner at the time begged me to remove my nose ring and to dress more “corporate” so that I would get across. And the time that I followed that advice, the crossing was smooth and uneventful. I understood, then, on a much deeper level, why that push for assimilation was so strong south of the border.

Things like the fact that most of the South Asians in the U.S. were recruited during the “Brain Drain” from India in the 60s and 70s while Canada threw open its doors to “unskilled labor” from parts of South Asia. And that this history is critical in looking at the differences between the experiences of South Asians in the U.S. and Canada. Whereas the “professionals” who came over to the U.S. became a “model minority” – held up as examples of what was possible if one were to just pull themselves up by their bootstraps, unskilled laborers sweated in low pay factory jobs, stood for hours on assembly lines, and cleaned up after their Canadian bosses.

And yet, to write the post-9/11 thread in my novel, which takes place in New Jersey, I went back to the first years after we arrived in Canada. The fear of backlash, the hostile environment toward anyone who was perceived as Muslim, or Arab, or a terrorist, the shame of being unwanted and unwelcome in your own home – all were as true for Indian-Americans (and anyone else with brown skin) post September eleventh as they were for South Asian immigrants in Canada in the late 60s and early 70s.

It was within the first year after we arrived in Canada that the Sikh temple next door to us was set on fire with the words, “Pakis go home” seared onto the walls. And immediately after the events of September eleventh, Sikh temples were bombed and set aflame in both Canada and the US in retaliation for the attacks in New York and Washington.

In Canada, we as children fought the slur of “Paki” by distancing ourselves from it. We tried to explain to our tormentors that we could not be Pakis because Paki comes from the word Pakistan and we were from India. Therefore we could not be Pakis. And those of us who were from Pakistan came up with other stories to prove that we were not the same as the people our tormentors hated. In the U.S., immediately after the attacks, there was a major media campaign that had television commercials at regular intervals with people of all backgrounds proudly proclaiming, “I am an American.” In other words, I am not the Muslim, Arab, Brown, terrorist, “other” that you hate; I am just like you.

So while the histories of the two countries are different, the politics and psychology of fear are the same. One of the questions I was asked was along the lines of, “We always hear about American racism and how horrible it is, wouldn’t you say Canadian racism is just as bad, if not worse?”

I struggled to answer this one, because I honestly don’t know which racism is worse. I know that discrimination of any kind is about fear and shame . . . it makes you not want to be who you are and you have to fight to love your own Self. I know that the U.S. has a history of slavery and internment camps, but Canada has the Komagata Maru incident and a healthy scattering of Neo-Nazis in all provinces.

And I know that here in North America, we fight whatever our fight is – discrimination based on gender, race, sexuality, class . . . while in other places women are fighting the politics of Faith. They are fighting for the right to say no to sex with their husbands. They are fighting men who call them whores because they are not being “good Muslims” and are, instead, embracing the ideology of “Christian infidels.”

And the only thing I know for sure is that none of us is fighting for the right to be Brown or female or gay or wealthy. We are fighting for our very basic human rights. The right to be who we are, exactly as we are, and entitled to the same privileges as anyone else.

So as I considered the questions at my book launch at the Toronto Women’s Bookstore, I was grateful to be in a room with such thinking, probing minds. People who are looking for answers—hoping, knowing that the way things are right now isn’t really working for anyone. And that there absolutely is a better way . . . we just have to keep asking the questions that will help us find it.

It started off funny. I was at the mall buying a birthday gift for a friend of mine and, as usual, the store manager was friendly and conversational. After she took a good look at my gift, the following conversation took place:

MANAGER: Aww, is this for your girlfriend?

ME: She’s not my girlfriend.

MANAGER: That’s an awful lot of money for just a friend.

ME: (smiles) Well, maybe you can lower the price for me.

She laughed as she scanned the item through. Another customer approached the counter and waited patiently. She decided to chime in:

CUSTOMER: Ooh, you’re buying gifts!

ME: (smiles) Yeah, it’s for my friend’s birthday.

CUSTOMER: Aww, that’s so romantic, your girlfriend is going to Love it.

ME: She’s not my girlfriend.

CUSTOMER: Hmm, maybe she’s a special friend!

I laughed at how both of them were teasing me while I waited for the manager to package the gift. The manager was really helpful that day, so I asked her if there was a number I could call to give her an “outstanding” customer service rating. She showed me the number on the receipt and thanked me for asking. As the manager wrote her name on the receipt, the customer waiting in line caught me off guard with an unexpected question:

“What country are you from?”

For some reason, the question struck me in an odd way, as if it triggered an alarm in my head and sprung forth countless things I’ve been ruminating about over the past few weeks. It wasn’t a new question at all. I have brown skin; it’s easy to notice, so I understood. People ask me where I’m from all the time, but it was different now.

Almost immediately, I thought about the current crisis in Pakistan, I thought about the corrupt Pakistani president Asif Zardari, I thought about the Taliban taking control of Swat Valley – a beautiful place that I visited once – and I thought about the U.S. drone attacks in Pakistan and my sheer frustration with Obama’s foreign policy. Even though it only took me about two seconds to respond, I still had more thoughts and feelings swell inside me. I feared that disclosing my nationality would disrupt the friendly interaction I had with the manager and customer. I worried that their response would be offensive or ignorant and that I would go home feeling like an “outsider.” It was too late for that. And it wasn’t their fault.

“Pakistan,” I said slowly with an unfamiliar discomfort in my voice.

I was shocked at the way I responded, it sounded like I was ashamed of it. I noticed the shift in her body language when she replied with a simple, “Oh.” It was the typical response I usually get after I tell people I’m Muslim. An awkward silence followed before she politely said, “cool.” Again, it was nothing new to me, but when I nodded and forced a weak smile, I suddenly felt the urge to leave. I left quickly after the manager handed me the gift. “It’s ok” I told myself as I heard the fast paced rhythm of my shoes walking on the marble floor, “they didn’t say anything wrong.” I thought about the possible conversation that took place behind me. Maybe they said something ignorant. Maybe they didn’t say anything at all. Maybe they had negative thoughts about Pakistan, maybe they didn’t. Maybe they wondered where it was on the map. Whatever they said or thought didn’t matter. What mattered were the countless thoughts that surfaced in my mind.

As I walked to the other side of the mall, my memory traveled back to January of 2008.

Former Pakistani Prime Minister, Benazir Bhutto, had been killed in late December and it was the hot topic for a while in the mainstream media. I was on my way out of a post office one afternoon, minding my own business, when an older man smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you Indian or Paki?” Caught off guard by the random question and his use of the word “Paki,” I smiled at the silliness of the question. “Umm, I’m Pakistani…” I said. The man’s face turned grim. “Shame on you!” he growled. Since there were so many things I was going through at the time, my grief reached a point where I couldn’t even get angry anymore. I laughed instead. “Excuse me?” I asked. He threw his hands in the air, “Your country is a mess! You guys are killing your leaders and your women!” You can’t be serious, I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe I was standing in a post office and listening to a man flipping out on me just because I’m from a certain part of the world.

I stood my ground and called him out on his ignorance. I told him he was generalizing about me, as well as the people of Pakistan. I also told him that it wasn’t fair for him to treat me as if I had control over what country I’m from. He apologized, “I’m sorry, you’re right. See, you’re good because you’re here. You’re good because you’re an American.” Right. Typical “melting-pot” remark. Let’s mix everyone together, cut them off from their culture and heritage, and give them one identity: American. “So what about my family members who live in Pakistan?” I asked him. “Are they ‘bad’ since they’re not American?” He replied, “Well they should come over here.” Yeah, like that’s a piece of cake. And besides, what’s up with the assumption that people living in the Muslim world want to come to the United States (or any Western country)? He apologized again and then asked, “Are you Muslim?” Oh boy. “Yeah,” I said. Before I know it, he was going on about Christianity and how democratic values are also Christian values, so Muslims could benefit a lot from Christians. I tried to enlighten him about Islam, coexistence, and how we’re all created by God, but it didn’t seem like he was receptive to what I was saying. He ended up making an insensitive remark about Muslims standing at the end of the line in the afterlife. He was trying to be funny. I couldn’t stay there. I shook my head, “whatever.” As I walked out the door, I heard him say “Ah, I’m just kidding!”

I had to disengage from the conversation because it brought back memories of something that happened to me in the summer of 2007. I was working a part-time job in the photo lab at CVS Pharmacy. I Loved my job, which is why the managers always called me first whenever they needed help. It was a really happy time in my life, I had friendly relations with my co-workers, and I was really good with customers. We were incredibly low on help that day though and at one point, I was the only person on register. The line only got longer and longer, and eventually, a cranky customer started swearing at me for moving too slow for her. I ignored it at first, but then she cursed at me again and told me that I “shouldn’t work here.” I explained that we were short on help and I politely asked her to stop cursing at me. It only made things worse. “Who the f*** are you to tell me to stop talking?!” she shouted.

Finally, my manager rushed back to the front of the store. He couldn’t help but notice the angry customer and her friend. “What’s the problem here?” he asked. Before I could answer, the customer pointed at me and said, “You better watch out for this kid otherwise he’s going to blow up the store.” I froze in utter disbelief. I felt the anger rushing through my blood and then I broke out, “What did you say?! Are you judging me by the color of my skin?! Why did you say something like that?!” She shouted back, “man, just do your f***ing job!” My manager intervened and told me to take a break. I listened and began to the break room, but I heard the customers talking behind me, “if he’s going to wait for us in the parking lot, we can take him! There’s two of us.” I was so outraged and furious. I turned around and said, “Who’s talking about violence here?” She said I threatened her first because I told her to “stop talking.” I shook my head, “No, I told you to stop cursing.” My manager stepped in between me and the customers. He pushed me back, as if I was going to hit the customers or something. “Just stop,” he said to me, “Just ignore them.” The customer’s friend stepped forward and said, “F*** you, terrorist!” I was so angry that I just stormed out of the building and drove home. I was notified a week later that I was terminated because the incident “created a problem” for the store and I was supposed to “bite my tongue” just like the “company policy” expected all employees to (how I handled the case, with the help of CAIR, is another discussion!).

I reflected on these two experiences as I walked out of the mall with my friend’s birthday gift. When I started my car, I sat and spaced out for a while. I thought about how my past experiences sometimes make me so tense and uneasy whenever non-Muslims ask about religious and/or ethnic background. With the current crisis in Pakistan, I worry that the ignorant and offensive remarks will only get worse, but amidst all the politics and personal fears, I am also bothered immensely by how distant I am from my ethnic background.

The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror and felt so unusually distraught. I stared at my brown skin, my black hair, my half-Kashmiri and half-Punjabi nose; I thought about my suburban-American accent and my inability to speak Urdu and Punjabi fluently. I felt a mismatch, like I was some kind of cheap import. I felt fake and counterfeit. I thought about all the times I see older South Asians working at local stores and feeling terrible for speaking to them in English when I could be speaking in Urdu or Hindi. When I walk away, I always wonder if they’re thinking, “oh the kids in this country forget their culture and their language, it’s such a shame.” In South Asian culture, we always refer to elders as “Auntie” and “Uncle,” so whenever I see elderly South Asians, I want them to know that they are “Auntie” and “Uncle” to me. Sometimes, it feels like my skin color and name are the only Pakistani things about me. What does it mean to be Pakistani? I can put on my shalwar kameez (traditional South Asian dress) and attend a South Asian event on campus, enjoy the music, dances, and food, but does that make me Pakistani? What do I know about Pakistan – the history, the culture, the people, the great mystics, thinkers, and leaders of the past, or even the politics? Although I’ve made attempts to re-connect with my Pakistani identity in recent years, I feel that current events (as well as things I’ve observed in other Pakistani-Americans) have caused me to turn inward again in efforts to attain a richer understanding of what my ethnic identity really means to me.

I was born in Lahore, Pakistan. My father’s family descends from Kashmiris who migrated to Lahore, and my mother’s family is Punjabi. Although I’ve never experienced what it’s like to live in Pakistan (since my family moved to the United States shortly after I was born), I’ve stayed there on long visits. The first time I visited Pakistan was in 1999 and I remember hating it. The bumpy roads, the crowded traffic, the poverty, the pollution, the electric cutting out randomly – it all made me miss the United States. At the time, as a 15 year-old, I admit that I felt better than everyone else because I was an American citizen. When I returned to the U.S., I would tell my White non-Muslim friends how proud and grateful we should be to live in America. Like many other Pakistani-Americans that I knew at the time, I made fun of Pakistani/Indian music, culture, language, accents, and dress. I associated all of those things with my parents; it had nothing to do with me. I was American.

I went to Pakistan again in 2000 for my Uncle’s wedding and my opinion of the country didn’t change much. I still thought it was backwards and uncivilized, although I remember seeing something that struck me as oddly positive. On our way to the wedding, a truck accidentally hit one of our party’s cars. The respective drivers – complete strangers – got out and shook hands! Then, we invited the truck driver to the wedding! That was something I don’t ever recall seeing in the United States. Still, I longed to leave Pakistan, so much so that I couldn’t even appreciate the fact that my Uncle’s wedding lasted for three days (as opposed to the typical single-day weddings I would see in Hollywood films). I couldn’t appreciate the decorations, the dancing, the beautiful South Asian dresses, or the immense amount of preparation that went into it all. I regret that now.

It wasn’t until I visited Pakistan in early 2002 when I really learned to appreciate it. As many of my friends know, 2002 was a special year for me. It was the year I discovered my inner voice. I remember sitting in the car while the driver navigated us through the busy traffic of Lahore and without warning, a question struck me in such a profound way. The question didn’t come from someone, it came from within: I asked myself, “Why do you hate this place so much?” I stared out the window and saw people walking with their spouses, children, and friends. They were going somewhere. To school, to work, to buy something, to have fun with their friends – every day activities that my friends and I would do except in a different part of the world. This place was home to them. “This is where you were born,” I said in my thoughts, “This place is in your blood.” It helped that I had a great time with my family that year too, but I also believe that these questions didn’t come to me randomly or without meaning. For the first time, when I left Pakistan, I was sad. Sure, I was happy about going home and seeing my friends again, but I also felt like I didn’t get enough of a chance to explore more, i.e. explore more about myself.

Since it was post September 11th, I was already experiencing a lot of hostility and prejudice in my predominately White non-Muslim high school because of my religious background. When I returned from Pakistan, classmates and teachers asked a lot of ignorant questions. Questions like: “Why do they have weird names?” or “Are they Taliban?” or “Don’t they hate America?” The most insulting one probably came from my friend’s mom, “Are they very pro-bin Laden over there?” I told her that Osama bin Laden was the last thing on my mind when I was there and I also added that she should visit Pakistan some time since it’s a beautiful place. As a result of my new appreciation for Pakistan, I started to become more religious and spiritual. It was the first time in my life when I read the Qur’an on my own free will and it was the first time I prayed without anyone instructing me to do so. It was a very special turning point in my life since I began to contemplate religion and spirituality in ways that I never did before, but what I didn’t realize was that my attempts to become a better Muslim actually distanced me from my ethnic identity rather than compliment it. In actuality I was doing something that many young Pakistani Muslims do these days: I was trying to be Arab.

Over the years, I’ve found that discussing Pakistani identity is quite problematic and controversial at times because it’s often perceived as “religion versus culture.” Generally speaking, we Pakistanis try to distance ourselves from India as far as possible because we think India is synonymous with Hinduism, therefore “kuffar” (nonbelievers/infidels). It’s silly actually considering that (1) India has the third-largest Muslim population in the world and (2) prior to the partition in 1947, Pakistan was part of India; therefore the similarities in culture, dress, food, and language are inescapable. In any case, many Pakistani Muslims in America cut themselves off from India and Indian culture in pursuit of an “authentic Muslim” identity, which happens to point to the Middle-East. In other words, we take on a pseudo-Arab identity.

So many times, I’ve heard fellow Pakistani Muslims saying that we should abolish culture completely because there is no culture in Islam. We’re Muslim and that’s it. I bought into that for a while. “Yeah, we Pakistanis watch too many Bollywood movies,” I would say, “We have girls dancing at our weddings, that’s not Islamic!” As I condemned Pakistani culture, I didn’t realize that I was adopting another culture: Arab culture, or at least what I perceived to be “Arab culture” (saying “Arab culture” is inaccurate since the Arab world is filled with diverse cultures, religions, and dialects, it can’t be narrowed down into “one culture”). In my freshmen year of college, I would wear my keffiyeh (traditional Arab scarf), drive around blasting Arabic music, and making enormous efforts to learn Arabic. To give you an idea of how much I studied Arabic, I can put it like this: my Arabic pronunciation is much better than my Urdu and Punjabi pronunciation. I don’t regret learning the amount of Arabic I know now; I admit that it helps understanding your prayers a lot better, but I feel a tremendous amount of shame when I make pathetic attempts to speak Urdu. When I throw in some Arabic phrases when I meet Arab-speaking people, they smile and tell me how good my accent is. When I try to speak Urdu with South Asian friends and family, they laugh because they can hear it mixed with my American accent.

I became discouraged when I saw the same Pakistani Muslims who despised culture taking dabkeh lessons (folk dance of Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, Jordan, and Iraq), smoking hookah, or wearing thobs (traditional Arab dress for men), as if there wasn’t anything cultural about those things. They would also rebel against the South Asian pronunciation of their names and pronounce them the “correct Arabic” way. It dawned on me that we weren’t getting rid of culture; we merely getting rid of South Asian culture – our culture. As Fatemeh Fakhraie writes in her brilliant article, “The Arabization of Islam:”

What is troublesome about all this is that most Muslims who are non-Arabs complain that they’re not seen as Muslims because they’re not Arab (or ethnically Middle Eastern, in some cases). But when non-Arab Muslims take Arab names or wear Arab clothes under the guise of “Islamic authenticity,” we’re all reinforcing the idea that we’re not really Muslims unless we have some link to Arab culture.

I have seen many Pakistanis Muslims using Arabic words like “akhi” (brother), “ukhti” (sister), “wallahi” (I swear to God), and even non-religious words like “yanni” in their conversations. There’s nothing wrong with this, but if they inserted Urdu words instead of Arabic words, they wouldn’t be taken seriously. Why? Because we don’t take Urdu seriously. The only time we’ll use Urdu is to be funny. It’s like, “haha, you sound like a FOB!” The only time we’ll use Urdu in a serious manner is when we’re speaking to elders (because it’s an “older people” thing, right?). Speaking Arabic, on the other hand, is taken seriously and even makes you look like a better Muslim. We attribute more religiosity to Muslims who can give khutbahs or speeches with “proper Arabic pronunciation.” Even at the recent CAIR event I attended, one of the guest speakers was a South Asian Muslim woman who made sure she pronounced every Arabic word and Muslim name “correctly,” as if not doing so would lower her credibility. It was interesting because I didn’t hear any of the Arab speakers pronounce Pakistan correctly (they said “Pack-istan” rather than “Paak-istaan”), and yet you see young South Asian Muslims striving to pronounce Arabic correctly.

But it’s not just pronunciation that’s changing. Words are changing and being replaced too. The best example is how the Urdu phrase, “Khuda hafez” (God be with you), has been replaced with “Allah hafez.” They both mean the same thing, but thanks to the growing influence of Salafi movements among Sunni Muslims in Pakistan, the use of “Khuda hafez” became gunah (sinful). “Khuda” comes from the Persian word for God (pronounced “Khoda” in Farsi), but since Arabic is taught to be the “Muslim language,” it has been replaced with “Allah hafez.” I remember, on one of my trips to Pakistan, I heard some of my relatives say, “don’t say ‘Khuda hafez,’ it’s gunah! Say ‘Allah hafez.’” As Pervez Amirali Hoodbhoy elaborates:

Persian, the language of Mughal India, had once been taught as a second or third language in many Pakistani schools. But, because of its association with Shiite Iran, it too was dropped and replaced with Arabic. The morphing of the traditional “Khuda hafiz” (Persian for “God be with you”) into “Allah hafiz” (Arabic for “God be with you”) took two decades to complete. The Arab import sounded odd and contrived, but ultimately the Arabic God won and the Persian God lost.

And of course, there’s nothing wrong with saying “Allah hafez.” I say it now and then, but why are we labeling “Khuda hafez” sinful? Is one “more Islamic” than the other? Have Muslims forgotten that God teaches logic and reason? Does it make any sense that God can only understand Arabic? The same kind of propaganda was used against those who followed Jesus, peace be upon him, when they were told that Angels could only speak Hebrew and not Aramaic. Consider this Qur’anic verse:

“Call upon God, or call upon the Merciful; by whatever name you call upon Him (it is the same), to Him belong the most Beautiful names.” (17:110)

Avoiding the use of “Khuda hafez” is also an example of how Salafi Muslims strive to abstain from biddah, or innovation, which in turn explains their strong opposition towards culture. Subsequently, we see Salafi Muslims seeking to purge Sufism (Islamic mysticism) out of Pakistan. The Sufis are Islamic mystics, who do not see Sufism as a separate sect of Islam, but rather an inclusive and necessary mystical dimension of Islam that explores one’s inward journey for God, self, and Divine Love. The Sufis often express their Love for God and the Prophets through music, dancing (notably whirling meditation), and Divinely-inspired poetry. Conservative Muslims perceive this as “Indian Islam” and accuse the Sufis of committing biddah and even shirk (associating partners with God), even though the Sufis, like all Muslims, don’t worship anyone else besides God. Qawwali music, for example, is a Sufi musical style of South Asia, but since Salafi Muslims condemn music, many Pakistani Muslims don’t learn to appreciate Qawwali for what it is. I remember one of my dad’s Pakistani co-workers was sitting in my car and he heard me listening to Qawwali music. He said to me, “man, why are you listening to this? You’re not supposed to sing about Allah in songs, that’s a sin.” I couldn’t help but think about the times I sat in his car and heard him listening to hip-hop music with excessive profanity and pornographic lyrics – he’s telling me that listening to Qawwali is sinful? This is just an example of how deep the conservative Salafi brainwashing is on Pakistanis. As is evident from my father’s friend, the conservative teachings even affect those who aren’t as vocal about their Muslim identity. As Sufi Muslims teach to be accepting of others, I’ve often found that conservative Muslims tend to be more about conformity, and this is a huge problem because it’s not only an attempt to pull us away from ethnic identity, but it’s also a way of “infidelizing” Sufi Muslims or anyone else who doesn’t agree with Salafi interpretations of Islam.

Recently, I gave a Pakistani cricket jersey to a friend of mine who became Muslim earlier this year and a couple of Pakistani Muslims in their mid-twenties made silly remarks about the jersey. They said, “We should get him a shirt that says ‘Islam.’” I felt like responding, “If he wore a shirt that said ‘Free Palestine,’ you wouldn’t say anything, right?” And it’s true, we see Muslims – both Arab and non-Arab – wearing Palestinian keffiyehs or “Free Palestine” shirts in the Mosque and no one makes an issue about it. No one accuses them of being more cultural than religious.

The little secret about us Pakistani Muslims is that we like when people mistaken us for Middle-Eastern. We get all flattered. Really? You thought I was Arab? Wow, thanks! But when people ask if we’re Indian, we respond in disgust. The first time I noticed this difference was in college when my professor felt like bashing on Muslims one day (she was one of the most Islamophobic teachers I’ve ever had). She asked, “Where are all my students from the Middle-East?” She immediately looked at me because she knew I was Muslim. “I’m actually from South Asia,” I said, “but thanks for the compliment.” Smile. I said that in defense of Middle-Easterners since there’s such a negative perception of them in the media (and also because Middle-Easterners get lumped together with Muslims). About a week later, I remember asking a non-Pakistani girl if she was Pakistani, and she responded with disgust, “No! I’m not! Why does everyone always think I’m Paki?!” Well, excuse me, I didn’t mean to offend you. I mean, ew, Pakistani? Who wants to be Pakistani? Ask us if we’re Palestinian, Lebanese, Egyptian, or even Iranian, and we’ll totally be cool with that. Why? Because we don’t want to look like Pakistanis. We don’t want to look like what we are.

The “Arabization” of Islam has gotten to the point where religious scholars from immensely popular Islamic websites like SunniPath.com teach that Arab Muslims are superior to non-Arab Muslims and that praying behind Shia Muslims will invalidate your prayer!

If Malcolm X was Pakistani, he’d have a lot to rip into us about. On one hand, we have Pakistanis completely emulating the images and behavior they see in Western pop culture and on the other, we see Pakistani Muslims trying to behave Arab in order to “authenticate” their Muslim identity. Either way, we’re distancing ourselves from our Pakistani and/or South Asian roots. Where did all of this internalized racism and self-hatred come from? Malcolm X was Muslim, but he also taught African-Americans to be proud of their roots and heritage. Why can’t Pakistani Muslims do the same? When bombs fall on Gaza, Pakistani Muslims throw on their keffiyehs, pump their fists in the air, and chant “free Palestine,” but where are they for Pakistan? Now, our country is in trouble. There are U.S. drone attacks killing innocent Pakistani civilians in tribal areas. The Taliban have taken control of Swat Valley, imposed their oppressive Taliban law, and destroyed over 200 schools, mostly girls’ schools. Did you read that? Good. Read it again. According to Tariq Ali, Pakistani author of “The Duel: Pakistan on the Flight Path of American Power,” the majority of Pakistanis are not only anti-Taliban and anti-extremism, but 70% of them perceive the U.S. as the greatest threat to peace in Pakistan. Will we Pakistani Muslims in America start educating ourselves about Pakistan or will we do what most of the Pakistanis at my Mosque do when I tell them the latest news from Pakistan: shrug their shoulders, shake their heads, and simply say “yeah it’s crazy”?

I have always told people (and myself) that I am Muslim first. I still say this, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t be appreciative or proud about being Pakistani. I am not encouraging fellow Pakistanis to support the Pakistani government – that’s not what I’m suggesting at all since the government is absolutely corrupt. What I am encouraging is that we care about the country we come from as much as we care for the country we live in. As Tariq Ali writes, the people of Pakistan cannot be blamed for the failure of their politicians or the recent violence that is unfolding. I am not saying we shouldn’t learn Arabic either. I still want to learn Arabic, I still wear my keffiyeh to represent the Palestinian people, and I still listen to Arabic music, but not at the expense of forgetting my South Asian heritage.

I try to make as many efforts as I can to brush up on my Urdu and Punjabi, and I also read about the history of Pakistan and India. I know all humanity descends from Adam and Eve (peace be upon them both), but why do I have to ignore the people in between? I am not ashamed of my Buddhist, Hindu, or possible Jewish (many Kashmiris claim to be one of the ten lost tribes of Israel) ancestry. I embrace that. Why should we ignore the great mystical poetry of Amir Khosrow, Mirza Ghalib, Bulleh Shah, and Allama Muhammad Iqbal? Why should we ignore the beautiful architecture of Shah Jahan (he built the Taj Mahal)? I remember when I was listening to a Qawwali song by the legendary Pakistani singer, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, I felt like I was reconnecting with a missing part of me. I would constantly listen to his beautiful wailing and hear so many emotions being expressed: Love, yearning, pain, sorrow, grief, joy, and happiness. “This is the voice of my soul,” I would think to myself, “this is that other side of me that I have forgotten.”

The last time I went to Pakistan was in 2004 and it was the first time I visited the country with respect and appreciation. I hope to visit again someday. I often wonder if the country will recognize me as the child of its land or as some tourist just passing on by. I know I stand out when I go to Pakistan. It’s in my body language, the way I walk, the way I speak, but all that doesn’t matter to me because I know that I am striving to re-connect. I know I am making an effort. I would like to revisit the Tomb of Jahangir in Lahore to reflect on the timeless history. I want to see the city of Muree again and enjoy the beautiful mountains. I want to visit the Sindh and let my heart mourn with the tragic Love story of Sohni and Mahiwal (depicted left). I would like to visit Mohenjo-daro, one of the largest cities of the ancient Indus Valley Civilization. I would like to trace my ancestry, visit Kashmir and then India.

I am a Pakistani who has grown up in the West and I know that my experiences may be completely different from what people in Pakistan experience, but it still hurts me to see what is happening in Pakistan today. I still care. It hurts even more when I see such a strong anti-Pakistani sentiment in the United States. Discussing Pakistani politics is another blog post, but I would like others to know that Pakistan is a beautiful place filled with a rich culture that is struggling to survive amidst Westernization and heavy Salafi influences. I find hope in the fact that the majority of Pakistanis are strongly against the Taliban and the corrupt politicians governing them.

Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said in his last sermon: “All humankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white has no superiority over a black, nor a black has any superiority over a white- except by piety and good action.” The Prophet would not have addressed this issue if there weren’t noticeable differences among human beings. As the Qur’an says: “Another of His signs is the creation of the heavens and earth, and the diversity of your languages and color. There truly are signs in this for those who know” (30:22). There is also this famous verse: “O people, we created you from the same male and female, and rendered you distinct peoples and tribes, so that you may know one another.” (49:13)

In closing, I would like to share that as I wrote this reflection on Pakistani identity, I found myself asking, “Why is Pakistan so important to me?” I responded simply: I was born there. Many of family members are there. My ancestry is there.

Those answers suffice for me.

Khuda hafez.

After getting all of that sarcasm out of our systems two weeks ago, we decided it might be useful to put together a list of actual guidelines for writing about Muslims. Of course, this is mostly just wishful thinking, because if reporters actually seemed willing to adhere to guidelines like this, then there would be no need for this blog. But here are some suggestions anyway.

A lot of this isn’t new stuff, as you’ll see from the many MMW posts that we link to, which illustrate some of our guidelines in more detail.

So, here you go: the shockingly un-sarcastic version of “How to Write About Muslims.”

Rule #1: Don’t assume that Muslim women need to be saved, or that you know how to save them.

By making this assumption, what one is essentially doing is:

* Assuming that all Muslim women are somehow oppressed at the hands of their fellow Muslims. The Muslim community is just as diverse as any other. By generalizing in such a way, one maligns the entire community, including the women. This is offensive to the many women who are treated with respect and equality by their fellow Muslims, including Muslim men. This assumption also ignores the forms of oppression that Muslim women may be facing from outside of the Muslim community, such as racism and Islamophobia (or even war and occupation, in cases like Iraq and Afghanistan), which for some women can be much more disastrous than anything they experience from their Muslim community.
* Assuming that Muslim women can’t take care of themselves. This is very patronizing. Muslim women have agency, and a great deal of it. Throughout history and today, Muslim women have been taking various forms of leadership. In situations where women are being oppressed, they are resisting in all sort of ways that the media doesn’t always think about. Additionally, most Muslim countries have Muslim women’s organizations that are working hard to support themselves and other women.
* Assuming that what you’re going to do for them is going to be helpful. The assumption is that you know better than them what’s good for them. It also suggests that you are actually in a position to help them, which might not be true.

These two posts by Faith go into more detail about what is wrong with making these assumptions.

Rule #2:Rather than assuming you know what Muslim women’s lives are like, try asking them.

Too often, writers write about Muslim women without ever having tried to find out what Muslim women’s lives are like from their perspective. This is poor research, and feeds into the problematic assumptions discussed in Rule #1. Do your homework, and try hard to connect to the specific women that you are writing about. Even if you are writing about women in another country, try to connect to women’s organisations in that country. At the very least, try to connect to women from that country who are living in your own community.

Rule #3: Be careful of who you talk to regarding Islam and/or Muslim women.

Don’t assume, just because someone is Muslim, that all Muslims will agree with them or that they represent all Muslims. For example, Muslims who have made a career out of calling other Muslims Islamists, and who base their credibility on the number of other Muslims who don’t like them, are not a good source of information. Generally, people who work within an Islamic framework, as opposed to always bashing Islam, are more likely to understand the Muslim community.

If you’re looking for information on Islam and Muslims, works by the following people might be of interest: Dr. Jasmin Zine, Dr. Asifa Quraishi (discussed here on MMW), Dr. Amina Wadud, Dr. Asma Barlas, Dr. Tariq Ramadan, and Imam Shabbir Ally. (Note that neither we nor MMW necessarily endorses everything that any of these people say. See also the comment section of this post for some more suggestions of people who can represent Muslims.)

Rule #4: Understand that Muslims are just like anyone else in terms of their belief systems. Not everything a Muslim does has to do with Islam.

Although Islam may play an important role in the lives of many Muslims, this does not mean that every action a Muslim takes, good or bad, is related to his/her religion. Believing everything a Muslim does must be related to Islam is the same as believing that everything a Christian, Jew, Hindu, or Sikh does is related to their religions. As irrational and nonsensical as this seems for these religious groups, it should seem equally as nonsensical to apply this belief to Muslims. Muslims, just like all other people, are impacted and influenced by many aspects of their contexts – culture, economy, employment, relationships, health, etc. The ways in which Muslims behave, just like the ways in which all people behave, are influenced by the many experiences in our lives, just one of which is religion. To assume that a Muslim’s behaviour is based on his/her religion alone is assuming that Muslims live in a vacuum which is devoid of culture, economy, patriarchy, social problems, health issues, etc. Here is an example of taking Muslims out of their context and blaming Islam for their behaviour.

Rule #5: Understand that there is no such thing as a “Muslim culture.” Muslims come from a variety of cultures, and culture is dynamic – it’s constantly changing.

Muslim culture does not exist. There is no one region of the world from which Muslims hail. Don’t take our word for it. Ask any researcher in cross-cultural studies (psychology, sociology, etc) and they will tell you that a Muslim culture does not exist.

Muslims hail from a variety of different cultures. Researchers also say that culture is a dynamic phenomenon. Every culture is dynamic and is constantly changing. Hence, the cultures from which Muslims hail are also changing. What may have happened in a culture 50 years ago, may not necessarily happen today. And just like North American culture, cultures around the world, are diverse. People of various cultures are not blindly following their cultures. Just as North Americans are not drones acting in ways dictated to them by their culture, similarly Muslims do not mindlessly follow their respective cultures.

Rule #6: Don’t create a dichotomy between “Muslim” and “Canadian” (or “American,” “British,” etc.), or between “Muslim” and “Western.”

See here for one example of why this is problematic. There are a lot of Muslims who also identify as Western, Canadian, American, and so on. Talking about Canadians and Muslims as if the categories are mutually exclusive reinforces the idea of an irreconcilable divide between Islam and the West, and erases the identities of the many Muslims who feel connected to both categories.

Rule #7: Tone it down! Be mindful of the language you use.

Language is a powerful tool that can shape people’s perceptions, and can have far-reaching implications for the way that people are seen. For example, last week we had a discussion about the ways that terms like “honour killing” and “terrorist” are being used in relation to the recent murder of Aasiya Hassan (and see here and here for other discussions on the term “honour killing.”) Terms like these can easily be used to portray all Muslims (and the cultures that Muslims are assumed to come from) as violent, scary, oppressed, dangerous, and so on. It’s useful for fearmongering, but often antithetical to responsible journalism.

And please, please stop trying to make up clever titles involving some play on the word “veil.” It’s been done. Ad nauseum. (See Rule #9.)

Rule #8: Take responsibility for the consequences of your writing.

If you do decide to write in ways that seem to generalize, patronize, insult, or demonize a whole group of people then take responsibility for your words and realize that people will be offended and upset. Do not be surprised when people feel insulted, demonized, or patronized by your words. And do not be surprised when they critique it on blogs, or write seething letters to the editor.

Rule #9: Leave the headscarf alone.

The headscarf is really not a big issue for a lot of Muslim women. And most Muslim women would really appreciate it if the media would figure this out soon. Muslim women wear or don’t wear the headscarf for a variety of reasons. Many Muslim women who wear the headscarf believe it is their religous obligation, while others wear it to increase their spirituality, while others wear it as an expression of their modesty, while others wear it for political reasons, and others still for all of the above. Many Muslim also do not wear the hijab because they feel it is not a religious obligation. Whatever their beliefs may be, for Muslim women the headscarf is a personal and private choice. A choice they have the right and ability to make. By assuming that the headscarf is somehow problematic, one undermines the agency of the women who have chosen to either wear or not wear the headscarf.

Even for women who are in situations where headscarves are imposed, they are probably having lots of other things imposed on them too. The obsessive and often exclusive focus on the scarf is still reductive and misses the point.

Really, it’s getting old. Give it a rest.

I finally got around to watching AmericanEast this weekend. Full disclosure: I had originally read Tariq Nelson’s review, which was a pretty good rundown.

AmericanEast is an attempt at mainstreaming American Muslims and attempts to portray the struggles Muslims face in the United States. In my opinion, they overdid it and never established a coherent plot. And on top of that, I found that the characters had no depth and some were cartoonish caricatures.

The movie centers on Mustafa, an Egyptian immigrant who owns a café in a heavily Middle Eastern part of Los Angeles. His life, and the lives of several close to him, is one problem or tragedy after another: at one point during the movie, I asked myself whether anything good was ever going to happen to anyone.

Mustafa has a sister, Salwah. Tariq outlines her character:

Salwah Marzouke, Mustafa’s sister, was a nurse that styled hair in the back of her brother’s restaurant and was arranged to marry her cousin Sabir. However she did not like him and they did not get married. But the cousin was never informed (at least not on camera) and the story was dropped. Salwah was also interested in a doctor at her hospital who was not Muslim.

The movie stresses over and over that marrying Salwah off is Mustafa’s duty (or so he believes). Sabir comes from Egypt to marry Salwah and take him back home with her, although she is less than excited (that’s an understatement) about this arrangement. Even though she often fights with her brother, she gives off major submissive, dutiful vibes that plague many female Muslim characters in the form of wide-eyed, helpless stares contrasted with humbly averted eyes and lowered chin.

She is attracted to a white, non-Muslim doctor who works with her at the hospital, and after the arranged marriage “thing” magically goes away, she agrees to let him cook Japanese food for her at his house. They start getting hot and heavy, but Salwah asks him to stop suddenly. She nervously apologizes, stammering that she thought she could “do this” but she can’t, and gives him the whole “it’s not you, it’s me, you wouldn’t understand” before rushing out.

Because Salwah’s character isn’t developed enough for us to know what she’s thinking (did she realize that she’s just not that into him? Did she decide that he was going too fast for her, and maybe she’d like to begin again under different circumstances? Did she think that maybe she should give Sabir a chance? Or maybe she realized she was on her period?), the viewer must fall back on the dutiful vibes and assume that she’s backing out of sex or maybe a relationship with this doctor out of an obligation to culture or religion or tradition, despite the fact that one of her friends stated that Salwah is “no Virgin Mary” earlier in the movie.

Salwah’s inclusion in the movie symbolizes The Great (and imaginary) Conflict between America and the “Muslim World” or a clash between tradition and modernity. The movie sets up these false dichotomies through Salwah, having her arranged marriage illustrate tradition (which is often synonymous with religion) and her career and brief date illustrate “modernity.” The burden of “marrying her off” is a traditional one her brother feels he must carry, although she is not interested in being such a burden. In fact, because Salwah has two jobs and supports Mustafa and his rapidly failing café, it is he who is the burden.

Mustafa also has a daughter. Tariq explains her role in the movie:

Leila Marzouke, was Mustafa’s dope smoking/dawah giving daughter. She had a scene that was like an infomercial in which she is talking about Islam and Middle Eastern history with her friend while smoking marijuana. That seemed to be her only purpose in the movie. Came off as very forced and as if the movie was preaching to the audience.

I definitely agree with Tariq’s analysis of her character, and have serious issues with the cartoony “history/philosophy” lesson about Islam and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. First, having all the Arabs in the movie be portrayed as brown dudes with turbans and huge noses was incredibly off-putting.

Second, condensing an entire region’s millennia of history into a cartoon is mistake enough, but so is leaving out everyone but American, Israeli and Arab players, as if Kurdish Saladin was the only non-Arab/non-Israeli/non-American to make a significant difference in the area’s politics. Whatev.

What irked me the most, however, was when the Crusades were over, and supposedly everyone was cool. The cartoon showed Christian and Muslim man alike at a huge party, complete with camels and I Dream of Jeannie-inspired women ornaments. Camels and bellydancers. Really? Perhaps here’s where I should remind you that this movie is intended to break down stereotypes. I guess that doesn’t extend to racial or sexist ones.

But, as Tariq says, this is the largest reason for Leila’s inclusion in the movie. The other main reason is to get ordered around by her father (“Leila, see what the customer wants”) or serve as a catalyst for escalating troubles for her father (like when she irritates a consistently rude café regular, who then yells at her father).

In fact, women in general seem to be nothing more than props or catalysts in this movie. Murad, an anti-Jewish café regular, uses women to establish a connection with Jewish Sam as they smoke a hookah pipe: “The best sex I ever had was with a Jewish girl and a Muslim girl at the same time. You know how people fight over Jerusalem? That’s how they fought over my dick.”

Classy. And it also helps break down the stereotype that Arabs and Muslims are sexist pigs who have little regard for women. Oh, wait…

Despite the fact that this movie really did bother me long after I saw it, the aim of Hesham Izzawy, the director, was a noble one. The movie, however exaggerated and exclusive of women, does highlight issues and problems that Middle Eastern Americans and Muslim Americans often face in a country whose mainstream gives us “War on Terror” products like 24 and Obsession, which vilify Muslims and Middle Eastern people through flat characterizations of “angry bearded terrorist #1” or “captive veiled woman #5”.

The movie does so while addressing uniquely American issues. Fikri, a café regular, states that all this hatred toward Muslims and Middle Eastern people is because of our newness: “This happened to the Italians, the Irish, the Jewish when they were new here. Now we’re the new ones.” A definitely interesting and relevant historic observation that hints at a brighter future.

Ray Hanania might be a little more rosy on his assessment of the movie and it’s impact than I (the film wasn’t picked up by theaters), but I believe that this movie, written and directed by Arabs and Muslims, and featuring a large Middle Eastern American cast, is part of a larger media movement by Middle Eastern Americans and Muslims designed to mainstream themselves into America’s culture. Television shows, movies, books, and comedy tours featuring Middle Eastern Americans and Muslim Americans are actively working to get their voices heard and represented. Though the waves of immigrants from Ireland and Italy had to wait for generations to be accepted into the mainstream, Middle Eastern and Muslim Americans like Izzawy are refusing to play the same waiting game.

According to census data and information provided by mosques and community centers, Muslims in America make up .5% of the total population in America. Keeping it conservative, that equals just under 2 million. Some estimates go as far to say that there are 5 million Muslims in America. I tend to stay on the conservative side because I don’t believe that boasting in numbers serves any cause.

Still, 2 million is a lot of people. And there have been multiple and contradictory narratives about American Islam. Who has the right to speak for American Muslims? Who are the real Muslims? Who will define the agenda for American Muslims? Last year, a huge debate exposing the immigrant Black American divide rocked the Muslim American community and we’re still reeling to recover from it. And when I speak of community, I talk about it in the broadest sense. I am not making any claims that Muslim Americans are a monolithic group. I’m not trying to be a downer, but the reality is that Muslim Americans do not vote in a unified way, have various political and economic interests that often conflict with their co-religionists, nor is there a central authoritative religious head that guides us all. Rather, this diverse group of people from various socio-economic, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds with different political and social orientations comprises a community because we believe that There is no God but the one True God and that Muhammad is his prophet. Therefore, we share daily patterns of worship, rituals of birth, marriage, and death, etc. Mosques are also diverse, which contributes to a greater sense of community. And there are some national organizations that do work to defend Muslims’ civil liberties, foster community development, and create a forum for interfaith understanding.

I’ve written in the past and have been interviewed about the silencing of Black American Muslim voices in the past decade. Some national Muslim organizations have been critiqued for their failure to include issues of interest to Black American and other indigenous (I sort of cringe to use that word because I do have Native American relatives who might take umbrage with its use) Muslims such as white American and Latino/Hispanic Muslims. However, in many ways I don’t like how the public conversation has developed in the past year. I am troubled when some Black American Muslims use the same rhetoric and language that Islamophobes use to critique mainstream Muslim organizations dominated by first and second generation immigrants or those organizations that have an internationalist outlook. I am also bothered when I read or hear immigrant or second generation Muslims dismiss the tremendous sense of marginalization that some of us Black American Muslims have experienced in their communities.

I know that some of my Arab and South Asian friends are bothered when they are called privileged. This is not an easy pill to swallow because in American identity politics the only privileged people are supposed to be White Americans. However, there are many different types of privileges and some groups are more privileged than others. And in one community, one group can be dominant and marginalize or economically exploit another. The reality is that in America, there is fierce competition over resources. This competition has led to some voices getting silenced in deciding the agenda for American Muslims.

CAIR reports that the ethnicities of mosque participants can be broken down to 33% South Asian, 30% Black American and 25% Arab, 3.4% sub-Saharan African, 2.1 European (Bosnia, Tartar, etc.) 1.6% White American, 1.3% South-East Asian, 1.2% Carribean, 1.1% Turkish, .7% Iranian, and .6% Latino/Hispanic.

Within mainstream media, the Muslim American experience is about the immigration and assimilation experience. I don’t see much press coverage or interest on converts or the multi-generational Black American Muslim families. You have some sunni communities dating back to the 60s. I don’t want to dismiss the struggles of Asian American, white American, and Latino/Hispanic American Muslims struggles. White American Muslim converts seem to be the darlings of the community, Latino/Hispanic Muslims exotic curiosities, and East Asian or Pacific Islander Muslims occupy some weird zone and most people can barely even believe they are Muslim.

If we Muslims in America believe in democracy and enjoy the privileges of democracy, then we need institutions that allow for more open participation in decision making. At the same time, democracy entails protecting the rights of minorities. I think before we start a discussion about exclusion or inclusion, we need to start to ground our understanding sociological, historical, and political data. I am not claiming I’m doing that in this article. Rather, I used a few statistics to make a point. In the past decade, there has been increasing integration between Black American Muslims and immigrant Muslims. But that integration has led to in some ways to that silencing that I’m talking about. And this had led to a divide in mentalities between Muslims. It is not so much ethnic anymore, but rather, Muslims in America whose primary political interests are foreign policy issues and those Muslims in America who want to focus on domestic issues and establishing Muslim communities in America. I personally don’t see them as exclusive categories. But it is jarring for converts to all of a sudden be forced to adopt some psuedo-marxist third world liberation ideology the minute they take Shahada.

This brings me back to the convert issue. According to the CAIR report, nearly 30 percent of mosque participants are converts. I think it is important to discuss the three major categories of American Muslims: 1. American converts, 2. immigrants, and 3. the children of converts and immigrants. There is a need to develop programs in order to meet the needs of these three categories. The challenging thing for us converts is that when we do convert, we often sever ties with traditional means of networking that assists in social mobility: the church, fraternities and sororities, masonic lodges, networking events and happy hours, etc. The conversion process can alienate converts from different avenues and so they do look to their co-religionists in hope of reconstituting and reconfiguring new networks of social support. Immigrant and second generation Muslims often have their ethnic networks in tact. They just have to navigate the treacherous terrain of assimilating without losing their Islamic identity. Converts, on the other hand, are challenged with becoming Muslim without losing their American identity. At the same time, the way they experience fellowship is through service in the Muslim community. But at the end of the day, they find that few of their “brothers” support them when times are bad.

A lot of converts burn out and become disillusioned after they become Muslim because they have the expectation of full membership in the Ummah. They are not making unfair expectations. These are universal ideals that are in Islamic texts. Plus, you won’t have to search too long in any Islamic bookstore to find a pamphlet on brotherhood in Islam, making promises of charity, trust, mutual respect, and support. And immigrant Muslims have also been inspired by the civil rights and black nationalism, which has some intellectual linkages with Third World liberation. Part of the anger and backlash you see from some American Muslims is that they feel like some of their co-religionists have fell short on their promises. Black American Muslims who were struggling to put themselves through school or raise a family using no riba became distraught when their immigrant co-religionists happily circulate money in their family and ethnic networks, but refuse to build economic ties with converts, let alone consider intermarriage. Immigrant Muslims are now distraught that Black American Muslims have started to say they’d rather vote for a Zionist who will promote universal healthcare rather than march in the streets and divest from Israel. Honestly, I think if you surveyed most Black American Muslims, you will find that they still sympathize with Muslims overseas, but they have developed a political pragmatism. I think Barack Obama’s election and the reaction to it is testament to shifting attitudes about politics. Even for upwardly mobile Black Americans and Black American Muslims, we are deeply aware of our historic legacy and our responsibility to make a positive contribution to our families and neighbors.

I am not trying to force my own narrative down anyone’s throat. Nor am I arguing that we should have just one narrative. Rather, I am saying that we have different interests and each Muslim in America has an obligation to follow his/her calling. If you are moved to join the Peace Corps in the Moroccan Rif, by all means, do your thing. If you want to start an interfaith dialog in your local community, do your thing. Or if your big struggle is putting yourself through school so you can take care of your momma, grandma, and be a positive example for your family, do your thing. For once, American Muslims who see their fates tied to the future of America are beginning to talk. I think we can come together and find common ground, but that takes real dialog. Some have been hurting over the past 5, 10, 15, 30 years as they existed on the margins. And yes, when you have been hurting that long, you are going to have some words that are going to sting. It may even get nasty. But if we are going to deal with the divide, I think we need to listen to how we have hurt each other and work to rectify the pain we have caused each other so that we can move on to the next challenge.

Sources:

Islam 101

The Mosque in America: A National Portrait

*Editor’s Note: Aziza’s blog name has changed to The Bridezilla Blog. Congratulations (though I am afraid of this new moniker)!

Recently, the Little Big Planet PS3 release was delayed. This peeved many, including my husband, who had pre-ordered it and eagerly anticipated its arrival. The next day, it came out that the delay was due to the presence of Qur’an verses within one of the songs in the game. The song was written by an Emmy winning Muslim musician who explains that it’s normal in his home country (Mali) to include Qur’an or words of the Prophet (pbuh) in music in order to show the inspiration of Islam. Sony decided to strip the song from the game instead of risking offense. They’ve been through this before with the Catholic church. No need to reenter the arena.

What surprised many was the response by the American Islamic Forum for Democracy. On their behalf, M. Zuhdi Jaffer, M.D. released the following in a statement:

“Muslims cannot benefit from freedom of expression and religion and then turn around and ask that anytime their sensibilities are offended that the freedom of others be restricted. The free market allows for expression of disfavor by simply not purchasing a game that may be offensive. But to demand that it be withdrawn is predicated on a society which gives theocrats who wish to control speech far more value than the central principle of freedom of expression upon which the very practice and freedom of religion is based.

“…We [the AIFD] do not endorse any restriction whatsoever on the release of this videogame but would only ask those with concerns to simply choose not to buy it. We would hope that the producer?s decision not be made in any way out of fear but rather simply based upon freedom of expression and the free market.”

The creators of Little Big Planet stated that they made the decision to remove the song because the game is meant to be for everyone, and if the song’s presence will disenfranchise as many people as it seems might be offended by it’s presence, it should go. From the message boards:

LittleBigPlanet will be remastered in order to remove a track from the game that contained two expressions found in the Qur’an. Whilst shorter expressions from the Qur’an are sometimes used in nasheeds, we are aware that the mixing of musical instruments with recognisable extracts from the Qur’an is offensive to Muslims. Therefore, we have taken immediate action to rectify this. We will confirm a new launch date shortly.

By far, the most interesting aspect of this issue is the glimpse you can get into the world of gaming by reading through the message thread started by the gamer who first brought the Qur’anic quotation to Sony’s attention. Non-Muslim readers are confused as to why the inclusion is considered offensive. There is an attempt to explain, but mostly there is a push to keep from discussing religion within the thread. Commenters mostly express the hope that the game won’t be delayed.

This is not what I’m used to seeing on message boards. Here, for the most part, is a very respectful conversation. One person observed:

I also don’t understand what is so offensive about it. At the end of the day it must be only extremist/hardcore religeous people who could get offended by lyrics in songs of this nature.

Surely extremists from any religion will always find something to complain about in video games, whether it’s violent content, sexual content, swearing etc, etc, etc. There is no point in pandering to them because once you start changing games for little things like this we will all be left just playing pacman, even then there will probably be some obscure Religion that will complain about that! As long as a game is not trying to be deliberately offensive to a Religion, like have you running around headbutting baby Jesus or something, then I don’t see what the problem is

Like any game, surely the answer is simple, if you don’t like it, don’t play it, but stop trying to be spoil sports and going off on missions to prevent other people from playing games just because they don’t fit into your view of life or religious preferences. This is not aimed at the op, just a general observation that whether it’s Religous groups, Politicians, Lawyers, Parental groups etc, there is always someone whinging on about games!

Interestingly, the end concerns of this debate are that 1) players angered over the delay will just create anti-Muslim levels; and 2) the divide between Muslims and non-Muslims will become more pronounced over this issue. So, ultimately, gamers are concerned for the way the reception of the song combined with the delay of the game will affect Muslim-non-Muslim relations.

I think this is a great study of the counter-fear culture that has arisen in response to the last seven years of Islamophobia. It also gives a more well-rounded view of Muslims–there are those that care, those that don’t, and those that ride the line. As for non-Muslims, there are those that are suppotive, those that hate Islam, and those who ride the line.

The game has since been released. I think it’s as fun as people hoped. I know my husband is enjoying it, as are other Muslims around the world.

They’re popping up everywhere in harmless-looking packaging: shame cartoons.

A quick search online will turn up a multitude of articles, op-eds and full-on rants appealing to women’s sense of shame (One particularly delightful article was titled “I appeal to your sense of shame my Muslim sister.”)

And then we have cartoons.

The first kind are pretty straightforward: they want you to get veiled. But rather than engage you in discussions about interpretation of hadith or Qur’an, they try and shame you into wearing it.

As expected, most come across as being judgmental, preachy and rude. And ones that focus so much on women’s dress kind of miss out on an important point: what you put on your head is not necessarily more important than what goes on inside it.

The “hijabi shame cartoons” start from the fairly innocent “the veil is an obligation just like prayer” written next to a woman covering her hair and praying, to the more extreme: I’ve actually seen one of a woman wearing niqab (face veil) which shows her eyes standing in front of a fire (!) because according to that author, showing your eyes is haram (divinely forbidden).

Let’s take a cartoon that’s ‘in the middle’:

First off, it assumes that there is only one correct interpretation of hijab (veil),* and that those who wear it ‘improperly’ (let alone not wear it at all) are in the wrong, wrong, wrong.

Second, it equates dress with behavior, which in some ways is even worse than stereotypes of veiled women (oppressed, asexual, powerless, helpless, low IQ etc). Hijab is seen as the be-all and end-all. I’m a proud hijabi myself, but that doesn’t mean I was automatically transformed into a perfect Muslim the moment I wore it. Just because a woman wears a veil doesn’t meant that she doesn’t struggle with temptations just like any other person, or that she’s better than an unveiled girl.

(I particularly like the touch of designing the cartoon so the face of the veiled woman is ‘glowing’ because she’s so ‘good’).

The second type of shame cartoons are a hundred times worse. Because not only are they trying to shame women into dressing (and acting) in a certain way, but they’re trying to make them think that if they don’t veil and dress ‘properly’ they’re at fault if they get sexually harassed.

There’s a multitude of them out there, with the most recent being the “Veil your lollipop” ads, featuring a covered and uncovered lollipop—with the latter surrounded by flies and with the tagline “You can’t stop them, but you can protect yourself.”

Similarly another ad features a covered and uncovered sweet, this time with the tagline: “A veil to protect or eyes will molest.”

The ad campaigns have attracted furor from local and international press. I don’t know what’s more insulting: the idea that women are candy, or that men are flies.

As has been said numerous times, the veil doesn’t protect women from sexual harassment, which is about power and control, not sexuality. Let’s take Egypt as an example. The recent Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights (ECWR) study told us that in a country where over 80% of the women are veiled, 83% of women are harassed. During the Eid festivities in Egypt in 2006, mass sexual harassments went on downtown (video here), with hundreds of men sexually assaulting women.

What’s worse about the study (which surveyed 2,020 Egyptian men and women and 109 foreign women) is that 62% of Egyptian men surveyed admitted to harassment, and 53% blamed women for bringing it on. Sixty percent of the respondents (male and female) said that scantily clad women are more likely to be harassed though in reality 72% of the women who said they’d been harassed were veiled. But the worst part is the lack of understanding by Egyptian women that the harasser is a criminal and women had a right to dress as they pleased (read more about the study in Faith’s post here and about the “Respect yourself” campaign against sexual harassment in Egypt here.

According to the ECWR:

“[The cartoons] ignore [Egypt's] large Christian minority, promote wearing the veil for wrong reasons, objectify women, portray men as mindless insects, contradict statistics showing that women who wear a veil, even the full face veil, experience high levels of harassment, and contradict religion’s call for respect and personal responsibility for all.”

Harassment in Arabic is “tahroush”, but is referred to in colloquial Arabic as mu’aksa (”teasing”), which is a very light-hearted term that detracts from the seriousness of the situation.

Attaching religion to sexual harassment just fuels the harassers, giving them an excuse for their behavior and coerces women into dressing a certain way when they may not be fully convinced. The ‘blame the victim’ mentality is only compounded by shame cartoons, which absolve the harassers of any wrongdoing. (Mona El-Tahawy has a great post about shame here)

There are also many cartoons that compare veiled women to pearls (where the veil is their ‘protective covering’). These ads are particularly annoying because as we know, the veil does not necessarily offer ‘protection,’ which is a kind of a weak reason to veil in the first place. And that’s another thing these cartoons fail to realize—the desire to ‘cover’ is multifaceted, and is not necessarily related to religion.

For the cartoons that do realize women veil for other reasons, their reasoning is even worse: not only are they trying to brainwash women into believing they are at fault for sexual harassment—they don’t frame veiling as a religious duty. Instead, they say that ‘decent’ girls cover while ‘indecent’ girls don’t. If you take that to its logical conclusion: only ‘indecent’ girls get harassed.

Translation: Who is the happy one? The good woman: Fulfills all her obligations and recites the Qur’an; Vigilant about modesty and calls to God; Does lots of supplementary acts and listens to helpful tapes.

The ‘not good’ woman: Goes to the mall a lot; Wears short and tight [clothing]; Copies the infidels and watches satellite TV channels.

So, what is it about shame? Why are we trying to shame women?

The answer lies in the fact that for many cultures, especially Arab ones, ‘honor’ lies with women, whose reputation, behavior, virginity, and appearance becomes a benchmark for the respectability of a culture.

Arab cultures, for the most part, are ’shame’ rather than ‘guilt’ cultures, where the reactions and treatment of society mandates an individual’s behavior, rather than his or her personal feelings of right and wrong.

The concept of shame is often confused with modesty. So many cartoons emphasize that you should be ashamed of your body, as if it was an unwanted appendage. Hayaa’ (modesty), an important part of Islam (regardless of how it’s interpreted) is often translated as shame, which is not only incorrect but goes against the fact that Islam says “Certainly We created man in the best make” (95:4) and promotes healthy sexual relationships within the proper framework of marriage.

Appealing to women’s sense of shame (which has already been ‘cultivated’ since they were young) in order to get them to dress in a certain way is a shortcut for the lazy who do not want to engage in proper discussions with them and only care about appearance. But browbeating women for the actions of men is, I’m sorry, just low. How come there are no cartoons shaming men for treating women like objects? No cartoons shaming men into realizing God created men and women as equals?

Search as hard as I could, I could not find one cartoon pointed at men and aimed at shaming them. The best I could come up with were some radio and TV ads that are currently airing in Egypt asking men not to harass women because…wait for it…harassment is harmful to the economy! You see, harassment tarnishes the image of Egypt in the eyes of tourists and they might not want to come, so you should stop. At least during tourist season. You can watch one of the ads here.

But that’s enough from me. What do you all think?

*Please let’s not get into arguments about what constitutes proper dress/whether hijab (however you define it) is mandatory, etc.

What’s the first image that comes to your mind when you think of a Muslim woman? Is she Arab or South Asian? White or maybe Afghan or Indonesian? Notice that I haven’t mentioned African American (and also Latina). The media depiction of Muslim women usually does not include African American women. Often, Muslim women are depicted as coming from the Middle East or South Asia, and occasionally sub-Saharan Africa. Also, there has been increasing focus on Muslimahs of European descent, especially converts such as Yvonne Ridley and Dr. Ingrid Mattson.

When African American Muslims are depicted in the media, it is usually a male face (Siraj Wahaj, Abdul Hakeem Jackson, Malcolm X, Imam Warithdeen Muhammad, etc.) that is presented to the public. There are exceptions such as Dr. Amina Wadud. However, the overall trend is rather disheartening, considering how much African American Muslimahs do for other black Muslims as well as the whole Muslim community. I have often wondered why the stories, needs and concerns of African American Muslimahs are not focused on and come up with a myriad of possible answers.

One is the sexism that black Muslimahs encounter in their own community. This is probably symptomatic of the sexism that black women as a whole face in the black community. Black Muslimahs still have a long way to go in gaining leadership positions in mosques and national organizations, such as the Muslim Alliance of North America, which focuses heavily on issues affecting African American Muslims. When there are few of us in leadership positions, it is hard for us to become the faces of the community in the media.

There’s also the racism, both covert and overt, that African Americans face in the Muslim community. Often, we’re not on the boards of masajid that aren’t predominately African American and if we are, our numbers are insignificant. African Americans are also not well represented in national organizations like ISNA, ICNA and CAIR. Also, the issues that affect African American Muslimahs are often ignored by organizations like ISNA and ICNA. When these organizations are pushed as the voice of American Muslims but lack significant input from African American Muslimahs, then it is not surprising that representation of African American Muslimahs is seriously lacking in the media.

Lastly, there is the racism of the mainstream media. On MMW, we have often discussed how Muslim women are portrayed as victims and otherized. The face of this woman is usually brown. Fatemeh has a great post about the racialization of Islam up at Racialicious. I think that this racialization of Islam leaves little space for the representation of Western Muslim women and almost no space for the representation of African American Muslim women.

While this post thus far may sound bleak, I do think that there is slow progress in getting African American Muslimahs heard. The blogosphere has provided an outlet for many African American Muslimahs to speak to the world. Not too long ago, NPR did a piece on polygyny among African American women. About four years ago, a great ethnography of African American Muslim women titled Engaged Surrender was published by the University of California press. Additionally, there has been more focus on African American Muslimahs in the entertainment industry as well. So things have been getting better. However, there needs to be more coverage of African American Muslimahs, as well as Latina Muslimahs. We are Muslim women too and we’re not invisible.

(Photo Credit: Margari Aziza Hill)

I just finished reading Sherene H. Razack’s Casting Out: The Eviction of Muslims from Western Law & Politics (2008). And I gotta say, it blew me onto my ass.

Razack is the author of several books, including Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, and her work in race theory definitely shows in Casting Out. She uses plenty of theory and excellent cross-racial examples to illustrate that what’s currently happening to Muslims in the West (racialization that results in “the expulsion of Muslims from the political community, a process that takes the form of stigmatization, surveillance, incarceration, torture, and bombing”) has happened to other groups before.

She first argues that Muslims are racialized through “race thinking”, which “divides up the world between the deserving and the undeserving, according to descent.” The racialization of Islam and Muslims is something the editors and I have been wanting to address on Racialicious for awhile, but I haven’t quite known how to begin; Razack’s book provides the perfect springboard.

Islam is represented in mainstream media as South/West Asian brown-skinned people who are bearded and turbaned or veiled and hidden: this racializes Islam.

Now, before you start typing a response that there are non-West Asian Muslims and that Muslim isn’t a race, re-read what I just wrote. There are Muslims in every country in the world, and they are all colors and sizes. But Western media representation of Islam and Muslims simplifies this world-wide group of people into one picture: that of a brown guy with a beard and a keffiyeh. His female counterpart is a brown woman with a veil. Reducing an entire group of people to these static images that have to context or history creates flat attributes (such as the incorrect assertion that West Asia = Muslim) that can be applied to anyone deemed in the “Muslim” category.

Razack argues “the eviction of Muslims from [the Western] political community is a racial process that begins with Muslims being marked as a different level of humanity and being assigned a separate and unequal place in the law.” (her emphasis) When Islam is racialized, the presentation of terrorism as Islamic thus racializes terrorism, especially when terrorism is illustrated by brown-skinned bearded South/West Asians. So, if terrorism is equated with Muslims, then we come to “widespread condemnation of bodies marked as ‘Muslim,’ and heightened support for punitive measures against them.”

Her book also examines three figures: the dangerous Muslim man, the imperiled Muslim woman, and the civilized European. She maps out the racialization and “race thinking” of and around these figures, and traces their roles in things such as the torture of prisoners at Abu Ghraib, racial profiling, Western feminism’s call for improving the lives of Muslim women in North Africa and South/West Asia*, and fears of Sharia law taking over Western politics.

This is where Razack defragments the “culture clash” duality.

“The close connections between assertions of cultural difference and racism has meant that in white societies the smallest references to cultural differences between the European majority and the Third World peoples (Muslims in particular) triggers an instant chain of associations (the veil, female genital mutilation, arranged marriages) that ends with the declared superiority of European culture, imagined as a homogenous composite of values… Culture clash, where the West has values and modernity and the non-West has culture…”

The culture clash argument uses the flat, racialized images of Muslims and puts them in inherent opposition to the West, as if all Muslims everywhere are this one way and the only possible explanation for their being “this way” is because they are Muslims and that’s “their culture.” Razack sums this up nicely: “Cultural difference, understood as their cannibalism, their treatment of women, and their homophobia, justifies the savagery that the West metes out.”

(her emphases)

She then connects the culture clash to the expulsion of Muslims from Western law:

“The state’s central conceptual tool in suspending the rights of those suspected of involvement in terrorism or considered to have the potential to be terrorists has been the idea that Islam breeds a particular pre-modern subject, one who possesses a violent hatred of the West and who is not committed to the rule of law, respect for human rights and women’s rights, or democracy.”

And then she connects this expulsion to neo-colonialism and/or Western imperialism:

“The West is understood as culturally committed to the values of the Enlightenment, while the non-West remains incompletely modern at best, or hostile to modernity at worst. Within this conceptual framework, one often described as a clash of civilizations, it is the duty of modern peoples to bring pre-modern peoples in line.”

She draws great historical parallels between camp mentality in other times and what’s going on now, giving excellent analysis on how Southern plantations, Japanese internment camps, the Spanish Inquisition, etc., were earlier forms of the “race thinking” that is being enacted now in Iraq, Guantanamo Bay, and the suspension of civil liberties of Muslims and South/West Asians in Western countries. Not only are her parallels apt, but they’re very educational: in her comparison between Guantanamo Bay and Auschwitz, the Soviet gulags, refugee camps, etc., I learned the Guantanamo Bay had previously been used as a “holding center” for Haitians deemed an HIV threat under President Clinton. In her analysis of Abu Ghraib, she compared what happened there to Canadian peacekeeper violence against Somalians just a decade earlier—something I didn’t know about, either.

I had a difficulty with her focus on “Arabs and Muslims,” which I think is a bit reductive, given the heightened media attention on Iran and Pakistan, two non-Arab but predominately Muslim countries. Though I agree that Islam and Muslims have been racialized into being “brown” and perhaps even “Arab,” I still think it would be more beneficial to the argument if Razack had clarified that she was focusing on the treatment of North African and South/West Asian Muslims. Though she posits that all Muslims are racialized, I get caught up in her use of “Muslims” because most of her examples deal with North African and South/West Asian Muslims.

Also, the inclusion of John Walker Lindh and Jose Padilla in her argument about the racialization of Islam and terrorism would be an interesting one; they have been convicted as terrorists, but neither are North African or South/West Asian. Both are American citizens. Lindh is white and Muslim; he was treated just as badly as North African and South/West Asian detainees because he is Muslim. Padilla is Latino and Muslim. He was detained and his habeaus corpus was suspended just like North African and South/West Asian Muslim detainees. They are presented has having their American citizenship and ethnicities taken over by “brown” Islam, which Razack notes is often compared to disease with panicked media allegations that Islam is “spreading.”

This book, though only 180 actual pages, is a wealth of colonial and race theory. It’s dense, and written a bit academically, but worth any struggle. This book taught me more about colonialism, race thinking, and Orientalism than three university courses on Muslims (specifically, Muslim women, but still), and it’s the first book that’s really galvanized my viewpoints in a long time.

*I am deliberately using the cumbersome but geographically accurate term North Africa and South/West Asia instead of “Middle East,” which is a colonial term because it locates this geographic terrain in respect to the West.

From Daily Kos:

Muslim Children Gassed at Dayton Mosque After “Obsession” DVD Hits Ohio

On Friday, September 26, the end of a week in which thousands of copies of Obsession: Radical Islam’s War Against the West — the fear-mongering, anti-Muslim documentary being distributed by the millions in swing states via DVDs inserted in major newspapers and through the U.S. mail — were distributed by mail in Ohio, a “chemical irritant” was sprayed through a window of the Islamic Society of Greater Dayton, where 300 people were gathered for a Ramadan prayer service. The room that the chemical was sprayed into was the room where babies and children were being kept while their mothers were engaged in prayers.

Recently I’ve heard a lot of talk about how the deaths and abuse of women and children of colour are not taken as seriously as the deaths and abuse of white women and children.

Why We Want Our Kids Back Too
From Racialicious:

There were no crush of grief counselors when our 11 year olds got shot by strays or on purpose. There were no pundits filling column space and air time when our girls got raped or became pregnant too soon. And when our children came up missing… when our children came up missing…I saw enough missing and dead black kids coming up that it taught me something about black folks, or at least the way black folks are perceived:

Black children are disposable expectations.

Justice Delayed, Denied, Disgraceful
From TransGriot

It seems that no matter where we live or what decade we’re talking about, when the justice system concerns transwomen of color, justice is delayed, denied, and disgraceful.

The argument – that the media and the public in general respond more when a white woman suffers – used to give me some pause. While I know, for example, that the numbers of missing and murdered Aboriginal women is colossal, the numbers of women in general who experience violence in Canada are just as shocking:

Half of Canadian women (51%) have experienced at least one incident of physical or sexual violence since the age of 16; Every minute of every day, a Canadian woman or child is being sexually assaulted; One to two women are murdered by a current or former partner each week in Canada. (Source: Canadian Women’s Foundation).

But if racism is not a factor when it comes to reporting acts of violence against women and children, why are there virtually no stories in major North American media about last Friday’s attack on Muslim babies and children?

If you have a blog, if you are a journalist, if you just have a lot of friends on your email contact list – write about this. It is completely abhorrent to me that almost no one, so far, is talking about this. Let’s prove to ourselves that our society is not as horrifyingly racist as it appears to be today.

Hat tip to Muslimah Media Watch

[Note from Latoya - The Dayton Daily News has followed up their original piece with a statement from the Dayton police, saying there is no evidence of a hate crime:

"The men didn't say anything to her (before she was sprayed)," Biehl said. "There was nothing left at the scene or anything that makes us believe this is a biased crime."

]

Last night, as I was flipping through the channels, I stopped on the Spike network, which is geared toward a male audience (well, most television is geared toward a male audience, but that’s a different soapbox). Perhaps I should say heavily geared toward a male audience. I mean, between the James Bond marathons, Axe commercials, and ultimate fighting programs, it starts to get a little, uh, over-done. The same way the Lifetime network’s pregnancy test commercials and movies about victimized women start to get ridiculous.*

Anyway, let’s get to the real reason I stopped on this channel. TNA Impact is basically another one of Spike’s wrestling programs, and it was this program that caught my attention. Because there was a woman in a niqab wrestling.

Really!

After digging around online, I found out who she was: her stage name is Raisha Saeed. Saeed’s biography details that she is from Damacus, Syria, and manages another female wrestler, Awesome Kong. Rooting around a little more, I find out that she is not, in fact, Muslim (put on your surprised face!) or Syrian.

Her real name is Melissa Marie Anderson. She usually goes by the stage name of Cheerleader Melissa, and has a very long and impressive wrestling career.

I wasn’t able to figure out why Ms. Anderson, who has two other stage names, would don a niqab, a fakey Arab accent and broken English, and an Arab (-sounding) stage name. Wrestling programs are full of gimmicky personas, and so I’m assuming that’s what this is, too. From the mysterious Arab music that plays when she enters the ring to her MySpace page, it’s one huge (racist) gimmick.

TNA Impact had an “interview” with Saeed and the female wrestler she manages: a black woman whose stage name is Awesome Kong. During the interview, Saeed speaks for herself and as a mouthpiece for Kong, who just sat there and actively looked menacing. And, of course, Saeed’s niqab came up in the interview.

The interviewer asks, “One of the aspects, I think, of your mystery comes from the dress you wear. What is the story behind the burka?”

“My burqa is none of your concern.”

Nevermind that it’s a niqab, not a burqa. Past this, however, no mention of her clothing or of Islam enters into the stage persona. In the admittedly limited clips I’ve seen, there is no mention of jihad or death to infidels–things that usually come up in racist portrayals of Arabs and Muslims. Thankfully, Islam seems to be left alone, aside from her headgear and the fact that, as a gimmicky Arab wrestler, she has committed the played-out conflation of Arab = Muslim.

But the racism doesn’t go away: another interview, Saeed refers to Kong as a “monster” who other wrestlers should not provoke. And then throws in a few garbledy Arabic phrases.

YouTube – Awesome Kong Interview

(Embedding is disabled on this video.)

Despite the fact that Islam is not an overt part of Saeed’s persona, it’s alluded to in a match between Saeed and Taylor Wilde, in which the overtones of “culture-clash” can hardly be ignored. A blonde-blue eyed wrestler with the American flag motif on her wrestling outfit battles a niqab-wearing (and thus Muslim) Arab wrestler? A bit obvious, wouldn’t you say?

Wrestling history is full of racist imagery, from The Iron Sheik to Sapphire. So neither Kong nor Saeed should come as a huge surprise. But that doesn’t make it any less offensive. Saeed’s character continues the designation of Arabs as Muslims, and Kong’s character stirs up characterizations of blacks as animalistic and savage. It’s just so played that it’s almost funny (aside from the general hilarity of the choreographed ballet known as wrestling).

Readers, what do you think of all this?

*Note: Don’t even start with me on the Lifetime channel. I’m not saying that movies about domestic violence aren’t important or that what happens to these women isn’t a real problem. My point is that Lifetime doesn’t do these women any favors by always portraying women as victims and nothing but.

This is an old post I’ve pulled out of the Islam on My Side archives, originally posted with the title “Give Me an Unbigoted Break.” It’s a bit more personal than I’ve been inclined to post on this blog, but as personal essays come in from contributors (deadline August 1st, so get to it!), I feel inclined to share a bit of my own experience–the roots of this blog and anthology, if you will.

****

As I thumbed my way through some favorite blogs this morning, I was inspired to touch on a hot topic in the Muslim blogosphere: bigotry. Islamo-Facism Week has encouraged the debasement of Islamic ideals stemming from a bigoted hardline against Muslims. I’ve grown used to being lumped into unfriendly categories. It often happens by friendly people who are misinformed by Horowitz-like others or simply ignorant to world affairs. I’m often tolerant of said lumping.

I spent six years in Oklahoma, three years in Texas, and another six years in Arkansas prior to the eleven I’ve spent in Indiana. For those of you trying to do the math, that makes me twenty-six years old. When I lived in Arkansas, I was the object of some pretty serious hate. My family was the only Muslim family in the tiny town we lived in. I started there in fifth grade. I remember my first day of school clearly. I’d changed schools a number of times as my dad moved up in the job world. I’d gotten pretty good at identifying who the kids I wanted to get in with were from day one. I was thrilled when one of the girls disengaged herself from the medium-popularity clique and offered to be my tour-guide. She never got to guide me though. I was handed off before that first period ended to a girl with wildly red hair who was clearly not as well-to-do or well-looked upon. This girl became my best friend for several years, mostly due to her honesty when I asked her why the other girl had ditched me.

She nodded when she said it, “The teacher says you’re part of a cult.”

It took awhile for the implications of this to sink in. My fifth-grade homeroom/English teacher had discouraged another student from being my handler because she somehow knew my family was Muslim. Or maybe it was because I entered the classroom with a wicked tan, the same type of tan my younger sister sported when we were on the local swim team and another teacher’s daughter came up to her and asked, “Do you take pills to be Black?” or something like that.

Interestingly enough, the Black members of this town were made welcome, and barriers were broken down to give them at least marginal acceptance because they were churchgoers, and perhaps more importantly, they were really good at basketball (or football, or track) and those were this Bible-belt town’s lifeline.

Anyway, I spent the rest of this day following that brave red-head–she’d shrugged off the cult thing–around the school trying not to cry. Give me a break. I was an eleven year old girl clearly being shunned by peers who shifted away and whispered when I walked past. I was the object of a lot of pointing and narrowed eyes. It turns out that my younger sister did better because she was only seven, and the community believed she could still be saved from our heathen household.

I’d like to say that this kind of behavior was temporary, that people opened their eyes and hearts to my family and accepted us. We kept to ourselves. We didn’t make a big thing out of our difference of faith. We never criticized what the other members of our community believed. But the truth is, while some of the kids I attended classes with and was teammates with for volleyball, basketball, track, or swimming did relax a little around me, it was extremely rare that I got an invite to do anything other than attend youth group or go to church, both of which I did because I would take what I could get. I was even saved under a big tent one summer. Afterward, one mom welcomed me into her life, promising to give me a Bible (which I was thrilled at the prospect of even though I already owned one and had read it). But her interest in me came to screeching halt when she said she’d pick me up for church every Sunday. By this time, my parents had decided they no longer wanted to humor the efforts of these families to try and convert me–not because they were afraid I would convert, but because it was a blatant and hateful attack on our beliefs and their parenting. I was confused by the offer of a ride to church. “I’m not going to church,” I said.

The woman looked at me, as confused as I was. “But you were just saved.”

“Yeah, but I’m a Muslim.” It hadn’t occurred to me that saving wouldn’t work if I was constantly correcting the our “Lord Jesus” to our Prophet Jesus in my head, or if I prayed just to God instead of “Lord Jesus God.” I was truly repentant. I wanted my sins forgiven.

She ushered her daughters and husband away from me, looking back once over her shoulder with those eyes that said, “Well, I can’t believe it! What in the world!” Her older daughter later told me she’d pray for my soul that I could accept Jesus Christ and go to heaven with her. I can’t tell you how many times I heard “But we want to be surrounded by all our friends in Heaven” from girls who otherwise wouldn’t talk to me.

During these years, my family was party to pleas for my sisters and I to attend church. When that stopped happening, and after the whole “saved” event, the ugliness that initiated my unwelcome in Arkansas became less underhanded and more aggressive.

My older sister’s instructors repeatedly tried to evict her from the school system. She was sassy, but not a bad student, like many teens in the town. Yet her teachers argued with her and went over and above to find fault with her. My younger sister was stood up two years in a row at birthday parties. Each year, a popular girl would schedule a party at the same time and invite the same people. (One girl did show up for a few minutes and give my sister a present, and I still love that girl for it.) I was an “A” student, good at sports, and quiet to boot, but I was regularly ostracized. I remember being greeted by my peers with ethnic epithets that often had nothing to do with my heritage, and were even more hurtful because of it. One lunch, one of my classmates attempted to strangle me. (Another jumped in and stopped him, thank God, but I still had to go to the hospital.) Despite witnesses, bruising on my neck, and other violent transgressions by the same kid, my parents had to threaten to sue to get him suspended. My father, as he had for years, received death threats and threatening phone calls.

There were ups mingled in these downs. My History teachers often called on me to correct the definition of Islam in our History books. The books read: Muslims, or Mohammedans, worship Mohammed who wrote the Koran. I was allowed to say, “Muslims worship God,” and it was often added that our god’s name is Allah. Sometimes I was allowed to illuminate the main difference between Christianity and Islam; “Muslims do not believe Jesus was God or the son of God. Jesus was a man and a prophet.” Then I was left to answer questions about how that was possible and whether or not Jesus died on the cross.

Another instructor invited my dad to come and speak to our class when it was discovered that he was an immigrant and again after we watched Not Without My Daughter. My dad told stories of his days as a boy scout in Lebanon (which incidentally inspired a boy scout story in my thesis collection). It helped a lot that my dad is a natural storyteller, he included fart jokes, and he was really funny. Never been prouder. My dad has a way of making Arab Muslim men seem human in a way I wish the rest of the world could take note of.

Those years in the Bible-belt were infused with an intolerance I thought I’d left behind when we moved to Indiana. Midwesterners were much less bent out of shape by my father’s non-White appearance. No one took much notice that we were Muslim. In fact, I was able to start an MSU at my high school with barely any trouble, and only a couple of my friends were regularly asked if they had bombs in their backpacks.

But then there was 9/11, attacks on women in hijab on the IU campus where I was attending, the Patriot Acts, a news story on how some member of our community was part of a sleeper cell and an implication that my husband was tied to this guy (who we never met), my local mosque being defaced, fire-bombed, another known attempt at defacement, and the constant awareness that wherever I go, my face gives me away as “one of those Arabs” and someone might make a hateful assumption, like those perpetrating Islamo-Facism Week, that I am someone less than worthy or some kind of victim that needs to be saved according to their rules.

The only help I need is a hand in the dissemination of this information: There’s no switch to be flipped. I choose to believe in Islam and live my life as a Muslim. I am not repressed, not angry, not violent. I am a woman, a mom, and a writer. I am a Muslim living life day to day.

While I believe there is very little known about the images and roles of women in comic books, the subject of how Muslim female characters are portrayed is even smaller. In part 1 of this essay, I looked at how the character of “Dust” was depicted in a popular American comic book (X-Men). In part 2, as promised, I will examine how numerous Muslim female characters are depicted in comic books written by Muslim writers. I will begin by discussing two female characters in Naif Al-Mutawa’s fascinating comic book, “The 99,” and then critique two more female characters appearing in the world of AK Comics, founded by Dr. Ayman Kandeel. Al-Mutawa’s company, Teshkeel Comics, and Dr. Kandeel’s AK Comics couldn’t be any more different in their presentation of female characters – the former shows us arguably the best depictions of Muslim female characters to have ever appeared in comic books, while the latter gives us an unimaginative redux of unrealistically curvaceous and buxom super-heroines who look like clones of Wonder Woman and Catwoman. By bringing these characters into the spotlight, we can learn how incredibly significant it is to battle sexism and racism in comic books as well as how we can create a much-needed dialogue and understanding between the Muslim world and the non-Muslim world.

Judging by the title, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Muslim readers that Naif Al-Mutawa’s “The 99” is inspired by Islamic culture and religion. For those who are unfamiliar, the title of the comic refers to an Islamic teaching that God has 99 Beautiful Names or Attributes. Al-Mutawa draws from this tradition and produces remarkable superheroes – most of them teenagers who each embody one of the 99 Names of God. The story begins in Baghdad in the mid-13^th century when the Mongol invasion threatens the great city and most importantly, the Dar al-Hikma, or “The House of Wisdom.” As many history buffs know, the library of Baghdad doesn’t survive –the Mongols destroy it and burn every book – but Al-Mutawa explores the human imagination and shows us an untold story of librarians and scholars who preserve the library’s knowledge within 99 mystical gems known as Noor Stones (“Noor” being the Arabic word for “Light”). The Noor stones were taken to Andalusia and preserved in a fortress, but one man’s thirst for power caused the fortress to erupt and scatter the stones all around the world. We are brought to the present day in Paris, where a scholar named Dr. Ramzi Razem quests for the lost Noor stones with his organization “The 99 Steps Foundation.” There are many naysayers at Dr. Ramzi’s presentations and call it mere myth until one day, something extraordinary happens…

Those who are able to activate the Noor Stones are called gem-bearers. We learn later on that the Noor Stones choose their bearers therefore they are useless if possessed by anyone other than the ones destined to bear them. The first female character we are introduced to is the 18-year-old Dana Ibrahim (pictured above) in the United Arab Emirates. Being the daughter of a wealthy father makes her a target for many criminals, and this truth soon dawns on her when a car explodes outside of her university. Amidst the chaos, a group of thugs drag her into a van and speed her off to an isolated prison. Dana has faith that her father will pay the ransom, but just in case, she starts calculating the intervals in which the guards give her food and leave her unwatched, and starts digging a tunnel with a spoon, all whilst wearing a blindfold and having her hands tied. After many days of digging in the darkness, she stumbles upon a magical gem that radiates with extraordinary light. Her abductors discover the tunnel and then drag her into another dark room. Angry with tears rolling down her eyes, Dana decides not to give up, and the magical gem she found shines light and reveals a ventilation shaft for her to climb into. She crawls to the end of the shaft but comes to a dead end because the exit is locked!

Magically, the Noor Stone pours light into the lock and cracks the combination, setting Dana free and racing to safety. She is frightened however because wherever she turns her head, she sees the light and darkness that exists within all human beings. This is visualized brilliantly in the comic book, showing people filled with light, but also with stains of darkness. She says, “It’s not about one person, one place, it’s about who we are.” These words allude to how every human being has light, or goodness, within them, but there are dark elements too that come from the external world. As she is terrified by these visions, she looks within herself and sees an enormous amount of light, but she doesn’t believe it; she doesn’t believe there is goodness in her.

She struggles with self-doubt – her mother had died a long time ago and her father mysteriously did not take immediate action in paying the ransom. When she returns home, she sees that he is filled with more darkness than anyone she has come across. Because of this, she feels un-Loved and unneeded; she feels like she failed her father somewhere in her life and didn’t deserve to be saved. Upon meeting Dr. Ramzi at “The 99 Steps Foundation,” she learns from him that the Noor Stones chose her because of something within her. Dana is reluctant to believe until she wears the gem stone around her neck and sees the light within Dr. Ramzi. She tears and says, “I never thought I’d have hope again.” Dr. Ramzi tells her that she is one of the 99: Noora, the Light.

Dana Ibrahim, or Noora, is quickly becoming one of my favorite female characters in comic books. I was saddened that there have only been 7 issues released in the United States so far (there are 12 issues in the Middle-East) because, in my opinion, Noora is the type of character we need to see more of in comic books. When we are first introduced to her, she is wearing a red t-shirt and blue jeans, and although she is drawn with curves, it’s very subtle and not drawn out of proportion. From Noora’s depiction, it is made very clear that Al-Mutawa and his creative team (which consists of artists and writers who have worked with DC Comics and Marvel Comics) are more interested in storytelling and character development rather than having full pages of women exposing their larges breasts or shameless close-ups. There was not a single panel in the comics where I found she was being objectified or exploited; she struck me as a real character, someone with her own mind, thoughts, and beliefs. One of the most important lessons I learned from screenwriting class was to make characters accomplish things on their own, i.e. let them work through their problems because that allows them to learn and discover something new about themselves. This doesn’t mean that no one is allowed to assist them; it just simply means that no one else should do all the work for them. Noora’s premiere issue reveals to us that she is a three-dimensional and strong-willed character because she broke out of the prison by herself. She started to dig her tunnel, but before she could complete it, the kidnappers discovered it and sent her to another dark room. Even as she is beaten, bruised, and exhausted from days of digging, she refused to give up, and she found the Noor Stone not simply because it chose her, but because of the will-power that exists within her. Noora is not rescued by anyone and taken to the headquarters of “The 99,” she fights her way free against all odds – this shows us that she has agency; she has control over her kidnappers and refuses to fall victim to her captive state. As she raced across the city and saw the darkness and light within others, she was learning something new about the world and, more importantly, about herself. Probably the most interesting part of the Noora’s character is that much of the scenario I described above runs parallel with Islam’s Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). Although Muhammad wasn’t kidnapped, he was meditating in a cave when he first received God’s revelation from the Angel Gabriel. Similarly, Noora is in a dark tunnel where she comes across the mystical Noor Stone, which clearly has Divine implications since it represents an attribute of God’s 99 Names. When Muhammad runs out of the cave, he is frightened because wherever he turns his face, he sees the Vision of Gabriel. He is frightened, but at the same time, realizes that he has reached a transition period in his life – he is making the self-discovery that he is the Prophet of God, to bring the people of the world from the depths of the darkness into the Light. When Noora escapes her dark prison, she is frightened by the new Visions she is sees wherever she looks. She is frightened, but at the same time, realizes that she has reached a transition period in her life – she is making the self-discovery that she is chosen by the Noor Stone, to help bring goodness and light into a dark world.

Whether Al-Mutawa intended Noora to be somewhat analogous to Muhammad is unknown, but the similarities cannot be denied. Likening a fictional character to a Prophet may be a very touchy subject among more conservative Muslim communities, but if these aspects of Noora’s story are inspired by Muhammad’s mystical experience with Gabriel, then I believe this is a very positive and timely achievement. Many fictional characters like Neo of The Matrix, Anakin Skywalker of Star Wars, and Aslan of The Chronicles of Narnia have come to symbolize Jesus (peace be upon him), so it’s refreshing to see a positive fictional character inspired by the Prophet Muhammad (and even more so considering those horrid Danish cartoons!).

Noora has fascinating powers such as spreading waves of light from within herself, deflecting darkness that exists inside of her enemies, and she can detect who is trustworthy since she can see what is within you! She can also create optical illusions to make her and fellow 99 members invisible. There is one scene in the comic book where the characters are being chased, and in order to lose the crowd, Noora makes an illuminated “copy” of herself running down another side of the street, while in actuality, she is really hiding in an alley. The “copy” that the people are chasing is really just a trick of light.

Another female character worth mentioning from “The 99” is Amira Khan (pictured left), a Pakistani-British teenager who makes her first appearance in issue # 5. With her Noor Stone, she is Hadya, The Guide. She has the ability to map out cities, countries, and even entire solar systems. As written in the comic book, her “brain functions like a telephoto satellite and global positioning tracking system,” and sometimes her maps are so detailed that they are projected as three-dimensional images that move all around her. In her debut issue, she helps a U.S. senator find his lost son in the Colorado Mountains. Like Noora, Hadya’s dress is relatively modest. In her super-heroine suit, it may be argued that she is drawn stereotypically with the leather clothing, but there is nothing extremely provocative about it. What’s important is that she is given background for her character – we see her living with her uncle, suggesting that she has lost her parents (though nothing has been mentioned about it thus far) and we see her trying to understand who she is with these new-founded powers of hers. Neither Noora nor Hadya wear hijaab , but there is a female Iranian character named Buran who does. Although she is not a gem-bearer, she plays a prominent role in helping the group on their missions. When we first see her, she wears hijaab while showing some of her hair, as women in Iran typically wear it, but that is changed in the next 6 issues. It seems that the writers decided to make her wear the full hijaab, i.e. to cover her hair completely. Buran offers sarcasm and humor to balance out Dr. Ramzi’s often serious tone, and it’s also nice to see a character wearing the hijaab and not looking oppressed.

Al-Mutawa has stated that he chose to include a mixture of Muslim women wearing and not wearing hijaab, and this is important because it shows audiences how diverse our community is. But the complaint I would have about Buran is that she is limited to being an assistant and wardrobe designer – just because a woman wears hijaab, does that mean she is not capable of being a gem-bearer? In the upcoming issues, I’m very confident that there will be (and there should be) a Muslim character that wears hijaab and is one of the 99. According to interviews, a new character will be introduced named Batina, the Hidden, and she will be wearing a burqa. Hmm, burqa, hidden… hey, it works!

Pictured above is “Jalila: Protector of The City of All Faiths” who appears in AK Comics, founded by Dr. Ayman Kandeel. Not to sound too negative in my introduction of Jalila and the other female super-heroine, “Aya: Princess of Darkness,” but the images and roles of women in Kandeel’s comics are not an improvement from what we typically see in mainstream American comic books. Unlike “The 99,” the writers and artists for AK Comics seem to be more concerned with drawing voluptuous women rather than focusing on character development and original storylines. In fact, the image you see posted above is rare to find since censors in Egypt have now colored Jalila’s exposed stomach with a lighter shade of blue. You can still see the details on her stomach, but I guess the added colors from the censors make her look like she’s wearing an undershirt, therefore less “exposed.” Yeah, like that changes the way she’s being depicted.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Jalila and Aya are replicas of western comic book super-heroines; the obvious difference being they fight crime in the Middle-East. Although there are positive intentions evident in the comics, like how Jalila’s first issue begins with a World Peace Day event in Jerusalem where Christians, Jews, and Muslims celebrate a peaceful coexistence after a fictional “55 Years War,” hardly anything is developed about her character. All we learn about Jalila is that she gets her super-powers from her radiation suit, which was designed by her parents in order to survive the Dimondona blast at the end of the“55 Years War” (Hmm, Dimondona sounds a lot like Dimona, the site of Israel’s nuclear weapons facility).

The peace in the holy land is disrupted by two terrorist organizations: The United Liberation Front (PLO anyone?) and the Army of Zios (I’m going to take a wild guess that this refers to Zionism). It looks like things will get interesting when Jalila learns that her brother is secretly part of the United Liberation Front, but we don’t learn anything about how they bonded as siblings. What is her personal or social life like? What was her relationship like with her parents? Who are her friends? What are her character flaws? Where’s the inner conflict? None of these questions are answered (her religion is not mentioned explicitly, however it is implied that she is Muslim since her mother is seen wearing the hijaab in a photograph). As she soars over Jerusalem, she looks like the Arab version of Wonder Woman – thin waist, large breasts, and you know the rest. Like Wonder Woman, Jalila looks empowered with her cockiness and crime-fighting, but with her skin-tight costume and provocative poses, we must ask: is she really empowered? There are a lot of references to her gender whenever she fights thugs, who are all men of course, and it seems very clear that the writers and artists want to promote feminism and equality of sexes in the Middle-East.

This is, without a doubt, a very important message, but these messages are contradicted by the way she is scantily depicted as a sex object. As she spies on a secret terrorist base, a sleazy and ugly old man puts a knife around her neck and says, “Hi beautiful… we’re going to have a fun time, baby!” Jalila elbows the man and then knees him in the chest: “This is my idea of a fun time,” she says. On this page, her entire back is faced to us twice, including one full body shot of her slightly bent over. She attacks the remaining thugs saying, “that’s right, boys, I can melt guns as fast as I can melt hearts!” Along with how she is objectified visually, Jalila’s cockiness and innuendos contribute to the “male gaze,” which basically means she is being depicted the way her heterosexual male writers and readers would like to see her. This may include emphasis on her curves, close-ups of certain body parts, sexual innuendos in dialogue or visualization, and even making her do things according to patriarchy and/or typical heterosexual male fantasies. When she is arching her back, stretching out, leaning over, or doing split kicks just to show off her impossibly perfect physique, one must question the sexualization of her character.

Aya, the Princess of Darkness (pictured right), is not much different from Jalila, except that she is a dark-blonde Syrian who might as well be naked because all she wears is a skin-tight purple Catwoman-esque bodysuit and a red hood and cape. Creativity in her character severely lacks when you consider how similar she is to Batman: she doesn’t have any superpowers, she relies on martial arts, her father is murdered, and she vows to make sure no one else experiences the tragedy she went through. To Batman fans, this sounds somewhat recycled. The difference of course is that Aya’s mother is not only alive, but imprisoned because she’s accused of killing Aya’s father!

So what does Aya do? She becomes a law school student who attends her classes always wearing a midriff t-shirt and tight jeans that look like they will slip down her waist. But don’t worry, the censors in Egypt took care of that and colored over her exposed mid-section. Now it just looks like she’s wearing a tight and transparent undershirt! Problem solved.

On the website for AK Comics, it is stated that Aya’s character flaw is that she’s too serious. But this is quite contrary to what’s presented in the comic books – she’s just as cocky and sarcastic as Jalila is. In fact, Aya and Jalila might as well be the same character because their storylines are so underdeveloped. Not only do both of their comic books show them objectified in the same manner, but they also contain similar references to gender, which gets so overemphasized that they generate stereotypes about how Muslim women are treated in Muslim countries. Like I mentioned above, there are perverted men who want to do more to Jalila than kidnap her, and there are other male characters that are incredibly abusive, particularly her two brothers. One, as I pointed out earlier, is part of a terrorist organization and all he does is shout at Jalila and slam the door in her face, while the other one is a drug addict who gets so angry that he slaps her across the face because she flushes his drugs down the toilet. In fact, he slaps her so hard that blood shoots out of her mouth. Rather than screaming at him, Jalila watches her brother weep in shame and apologize to her. Jalila hugs him and tells him “it’s ok” and that she “understands” how difficult it is for him. Aya is fighting for her mother’s freedom and trying to prove her innocence. One cannot help but see the parallels this has with how Muslim women are accused of certain crimes that they did not commit in Muslim countries (for example, raped women in certain Muslim countries often get accused of adultery if four witnesses are not provided). It would be wrong to deny that these things have happened in the Muslim world, unfortunately, but when the writers emphasize so much on women fighting against the patriarchy in the Muslim world, doesn’t that reaffirm the stereotypes that many non-Muslims in the west have about Islam?

There is a scene where one of Aya’s friends gets very sexual with her boyfriend, who turns out to be the villain, and Aya says to herself, “she is always getting involved with the wrong men!” Again the overemphasis on gender issues seems to justify certain stereotypes about the Muslim world.

On one hand, Jalila and Aya serve as vehicles to teach younger people to not join terrorist organizations, don’t take drugs, and don’t abuse women, but on the other hand, there are countless pages of incredibly suggestive and provocative images of them crawling after being punched by foes or posing like they’re on a supermodel catwalk or even displaying their tight see-through shirts where their nipples are visible in some panels – what purpose do these messages serve and how do they improve the way women are perceived and treated in the Muslim world? Sure, they don’t look oppressed, but it certainly looks like male sexuality is being privileged over female sexuality. But it’s not just Jalila and Aya that are drawn in this manner: every female character, no matter how minor of a role they play, are drawn as buxom and skimpy dressed “babes.” I am reminded of how comic books, in the west, were once a way to “girl watch” during the late 1940’s before the advent of Playboy and Penthouse, and it seems that AK Comics provides a way for young Arab boys to ogle at busty and curvy women. Since AK Comics distributes their books in the United States, the western heterosexual male reader has more chances of perceiving Jalila and Aya as “hot Arab babes” than feminists because of their depictions and poor character development.

As a quick side note, there are those who say men are objectified in comic books too, but I argue that the objectification of men is not as severe as the objectification of women. Muscular male superheroes may portray the “ideal body image” for males and females, but it’s more centralized on showing their strength and powers, whereas with women, the thin-figure, enlarged body parts, and the swimsuit poses have more to do with sex than with demonstrating their strength or powers. Female characters are drawn more sexually and in more sexually suggestive ways than male characters will ever be.

Unlike “The 99,” Jalila and Aya lack symbolism, depth, originality, and most of all, they lack their own culture and individuality! The issues of terrorism and women’s rights in the Muslim world are very important and they must be discussed through this kind of medium, but it doesn’t mean that the writers and artists should sell-out to the images promoted in mainstream American comic books. Jalila and Aya just have Arabic names, and to strip them of their culture and religious background reveals implications that the Muslim world should conform to typical western standards. Improving one’s society and conformity are two separate things; being influenced and inspired by American comic books is not the same as copying and imitating American comic books. Although we can find some similarities between “The 99” and the “X-Men,” the comic book is a huge step in the right direction for Islamic literature. “The 99” is receiving positive reviews from popular comic book websites such as “The Comic Book Gazette” and is distributing their next set of comics to the U.S. next fall. AK Comics on the other hand is losing their popularity and struggling to promote their characters. “The 99” borrows elements from Islamic culture, creates an original story, and introduces us to strong-willed and positive female characters. Stereotypes about Muslim women are broken even without overemphasizing on the femininity of the characters and the roles they play, and instead the writers focus on making the characters real – people we can relate to. Unlike Jalila and Aya, Noora and Hadya are not bragging about their femininity while beating up men, instead we see that they are two different characters with their own personalities.

“The 99” is a breath of fresh air in the comic book world and the creative team should be applauded for its positive representation of Muslim women. I’m hoping that it will reach wider audiences and help promote positive depictions of female characters. There is room for improvement in “The 99” though. The writers prefer not to discuss the religion of the characters because they believe it will disrupt the universal message of the comic book, but I personally believe it won’t create a barrier at all. If anything, it will help break more stereotypes and raise awareness for more important issues, like what is it like to be a Muslim in a post 9/11 world, or what is it like being a superhero and coping with your religious identity? Not all of the 99 members are Muslims, but this creates a wonderful opportunity for the characters to explore themselves and learn new things from each other. As I mentioned above, it is significant to discuss issues that confront the Muslim world today, and through a medium such as comic books, we can truly convey important messages that will inspire a large body of people.

by Guest Contributor Jehanzeb Dar, originally published at Broken Mystic

BAKWA, AFGHANISTAN – A convoy of jeeps packed with turban-clad and bearded Taliban militia roar through the rocky streets of a small Afghan town. The engines slowly die down as the militiamen hop off their vehicles and prepare to unleash havoc and raid homes

But something unusual mystifies them and halts their extremist fervor. An ominous silence fills the town, as if it were a strange pause in reality. They ponder, “Has the town been abandoned?” The silence is interrupted by the desert wind blowing against curtains and flags, while startling the braying animals.The radicals soon realize: the wind is not alone.

A female voice emerges from gusts of sand and warns the Taliban to turn back.The leader becomes infuriated and threatens to burn the entire town to the ground if the people don’t come out of hiding. The invisible entity replies as her voice steps closer and closer to the militia, “[the town] is under my protection. Leave before you get a demonstration of what that means.” The leader is not intimidated and asks what will happen if he does not retreat.

“I’ll rip the skin from your bones,” answers the wind.

Infused with arrogance, the Taliban scoffs, “I would truly like to see that.”

Immediately, the gust of sand swirls into a tornado and swallows the leader’s hand and disarms him of his assault rifle. The sandstorm retracts while the Taliban leader screams in pain and looks at his skeletal hand in horror. Finally, the Taliban rush to their jeeps and speed off from the town. The desert wind and sand transform to reveal the city’s invisible hero.

Meet “Dust,” or Sooraya Qadir, a burqa-garbed adolescent Afghan girl who has the ability, as shown in the scene above, to shape into sandstorms and tear the skin off her enemies. She has been a member of Marvel Comic’s X-Men since her first appearance in 2002 and she currently appears regularly in the “Young X-Men” comic books.

In the male-dominated world of comic books where female characters are depicted with large breasts and skimpy skin-tight (or lack of) clothing, it’s interesting to examine whether or not Dust and other Muslim super-heroines escape the sexual objectification and sexism that women often suffer in comic books. Are the Muslim women subjected to stereotypes? Are they doomed to the same fate of other female characters? Does the “male gaze” still apply? In Part 1 of this essay, these are but a few questions that we will apply to the character of Dust, and as we shall learn, the answers are fairly complex. In Part 2, we will explore other Muslim female characters where unfortunately, there is hardly any improvement.

In regards to Dust, the “X-Men” is the perfect place to accommodate a Muslim character. X-Men fans, or those who have seen the films, already know that the storyline centralizes on how mutants – evolved and “gifted” humans with superpowers – are discriminated against by other human beings. Mutants are misunderstood, feared, and hated by the public, while the media and government powers promote ignorance, persecution, and even war upon them.

Sound familiar?

Recall the opening scene from X-Men 2 when a mind-controlled Nightcrawler nearly assassinates the President of the United States and the television headlines scream: “Mutants Attack the White House.” I remember when I first saw that scene I couldn’t help but think of September 11^th. What made me relate even more to the scene was how the X-Men – mutants who had absolutely nothing to do with the attack – were crowded around the television and watching this news report and feeling as if they were responsible. X-Men producer Lauren Shuler Donner even explicitly stated on the DVD for X-Men 2, “If there is any oppressed minority—homosexual, religious, Muslim, whatever it is – that is the most absurd question that people do ask: ‘Can you try not to be who you are?’ And so we felt it was very important to show this whole absurd side.” So considering how relevant “X-Men” is to current events, how does Dust fit in at Professor Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters?

Grant Morrison, the X-Men writer who created Dust, said in an interview, “It can only happen at Marvel. As Wolverine comes closer to unlocking the dark secrets of his past, an Afghan Muslim mutant joins the X-Men. You want daring? You want different? Then meet Dust as New X-Men challenges the rules again.” Though the word “awesome” may initially spring to mind when one reads this statement, it can be strongly argued that the male gaze is still in effect. For those who are unfamiliar with the terminology, the “male gaze” is essentially female characters being depicted and presented in ways their heterosexual male writers, artists, and audiences would like to see them. In the case of Dust, we can make an argument for the western male gaze: an “oppressed” Muslim girl is rescued from Afghanistan by Wolverine, a western male mutant. Wolverine is told that the Taliban were trying to remove Dust’s burqa, obviously to molest her, and since there doesn’t seem to be other Muslims around to take a stand against the Taliban’s perverted behavior, who better to rescue her than Wolverine, or shall I say, western democracy? The scenario of Dust fighting the Taliban, as admirable as it is, occurs enough times in later issues that it makes one question if this is how western male writers, artists, and readers want to see a Muslim super-heroine, i.e. to rebel against her oppressors, the mutual enemy of the U.S. government?

To support this argument even further, there are many factors to consider, including political context. For example, Dust makes her first appearance in New X-Men # 133 which was published in December 2002, a little over a year after September 11^th, 2001. In the issue prior to her debut (issue # 132), Morrison writes a tribute to the victims of Genosha, a fictional mutant homeland, where 16 million mutants were killed. There were two direct references to September 11^th used in Marvel’s advertising of the comic book, calling the Genosha tragedy “the X-Men’s own 9/11.” The final page of the comic book shows the X-Men team crying at their loss. Next month, in issue # 133, we open to a full page of Wolverine slaughtering Taliban militants. Maybe I missed something, but the last time I checked, super-heroes don’t kill their enemies, no matter how destructive or deadly. I suppose Muslim radicals are exceptions! Even worse, we see Pakistani terrorists hijacking an Air-India plane while Professor Xavier and Jean Grey are aboard. Xavier uses his psychic abilities to convince the Pakistani hijacker, whose name happens to be Muhammad, to put down his weapon and surrender to the Indian authorities. Muhammad begins to cry and as he is arrested, he says, “It’s true, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life!” Morrison takes revenge on Muslim extremists by (1) brutally slaughtering them (via Wolverine) and (2) passively using mind tricks on them (via Xavier), and the best part is that he gets to (3) rescue an “oppressed” Afghan Muslim adolescent girl and take her home (via Wolverine again)!

Well, almost “home.” Wolverine carries Dust back to an X-Men headquarters in India – no X-Men headquarters in Muslim countries like Afghanistan and Pakistan, I take it – where Jean Grey kindly encourages Dust to reveal herself from concealment. “It’s ok, Sooraya,” Jean says, “You can turn back into human form now.” Finally, Dust appears in her black burqa saying “Toorab! Toorab!” Wolverine remarks, “It means ‘dust.’ It’s all she says.” Wow, the Arabic word for dust, “toorab,” is all she says? How cute! Not only does Morrison introduce us to a super-powered Muslim girl, but also to somewhat of a doll that exclaims “Toorab! Toorab!” whenever she gets excited about transforming back into human form. I can just picture Wolverine’s conversation with her while flying to India: “So kid, what’s your story?”

“Toorab! Toorab!”

She reminds me of those hooded Jawa creatures from “Star Wars” who live on the desert planet of Tatooine, always bustling around and saying the same things over and over again in their alien language.

We not only see a political slant here, which in turn justifies the western male gaze, we also see a female Muslim character that doesn’t have much of a personality. Morrison doesn’t even return to her character after this issue; instead he hands her over to other writers, but perhaps for the better, since they make significant improvements (which I will discuss later). Another thing is in play here and that’s male dependency, something that I discussed in a previous essay of mine, “The Objectification of Women in Graphic Novels.” Although one could argue that Wolverine is practically an indestructible character with his adamantium skeleton and rapid healing factor, it’s hard to believe why Dust would need any rescuing, considering her superpowers and her human enemies. If she was being recruited, the situation would be different and we wouldn’t see any sign of male dependency, but since we see a man rescue her, we assume that Dust’s superpowers are inferior: she is not nearly as powerful as male characters like Wolverine. We have seen female characters rely on their male counterparts in comic books many times before: Super Girl, Bat Girl, Spider Girl, the Huntress, She Hulk, Lois Lane, and so on. What’s important to look at here is that there is not a single positive male Muslim character in Dust’s debut issue – there are the Taliban militants that want to molest her and there are the Pakistani hijackers – but the Muslim women, who Morrison couldn’t possibly kill off since they’re “victims” in the Muslim world, are innocent, good, and “crying for freedom,” therefore they must be “saved” by western men. The racism and sexism work hand-in-hand.

Dust would not make her next appearance until January 2005 in New X-Men: Academy X # 2, where she is officially a member of the mutant team. This time under the authorship of Nunzio DeFilippis and his wife Christina Weir, Dust is explored more and begins to develop into a three-dimensional character. However, stereotypes about Muslim women arise, as does the great Islamic dress code debate. The topic on hijaabs, niqaabs, and burqas is not only controversial among Muslims and non-Muslims, but also among Muslims themselves! Perhaps, it would be no exaggeration to say that this issue is more debated within the Muslim community than outside. In any case, I understand the sensitivity of this matter, so I will offer a hopefully balanced perspective.

In issue # 2, Dust meets her roommate, Surge, who wears a tight tank top and pink shorts that are seemingly slipping down her waist. Provocative lyrics play from her boom box: “Yeah I drive naked through the park, and run the stop sign in the dark…” Surge is immediately hostile towards Dust because of the way she dresses. “So you don’t like my music, huh?” she says. Dust responds shyly and explains she doesn’t understand American music. Surge replies, “Yeah whatever, and speaking of things we don’t understand, is that outfit you’re wearing actually a burqa?” Dust tries to explain, but Surge interrupts and says wearing a burqa is shameful to women and makes them “subservient to men.” Dust replies politely, “no, the burqa is about modesty. There are boys and men on campus, and it is not right for me to show off by exposing myself or flesh to them.” Surge snaps back, “Are you saying I show too much flesh?” Again, Dust politely tries to explain, “No I do not judge the way you dress, I only ask that you do the same for me.” Surge walks to the door and says, “You do judge me… I don’t need to be lectured by someone who’s setting women back fifty years just by walking around like that.” Surge leaves the room and slams the door, leaving Dust dejected and discouraged.

No matter what your stance is on the burqa or the headscarf (hijaab), it is clear that this scene puts Dust on the defensive. In a place where mutants are supposed to feel accepted, Dust is misjudged because of her dress choices. In later issues, particularly New X-Men: Hellions # 2, we learn, from a conversation with her mother, that Dust is not forced to wear the burqa and she enjoys the protection it gives her from men. For Dust, the burqa is a choice, and that must be respected and defended.

However, I believe Dust’s reasoning for wearing the burqa is somewhat inaccurate and stereotypical.This may be due to the writers’ apparent misunderstanding of Muslim women and Islam in general. What’s annoying and arguably inaccurate is how Dust speaks about “protecting herself from men,” which not only make men out to be lustful and perverted, but it also sexualizes herself and makes her an object of desire. The beautiful teachings of modesty for both genders in Islam tend to be mistaken for the stereotypical notion of “protecting women from men.” These beliefs keep her side-lined, while the rest of the young Mutants develop crushes on one another and participate in extra-curricular activities. I’m not suggesting that Dust should start dating, but she should at least have some hobbies, otherwise she’s just a one-dimensional character! We either see Dust in the background or we catch a brief scene of her telling a fellow male mutant that she must decline taking a flight with him. It seems like she can’t do anything because her religion is so “restrictive.”

The way the writers present Islam is also a bit irritating. Almost every time we see Dust, she is praying and asking God for forgiveness for whatever sin she may have committed. A common stereotype that prevails in the west about Islam is that it doesn’t promote “freedom.” The word “Islam” means “submission” and this term is often associated with “slavery.” But Islam is not slavery – to be a servant of God, as believed by Muslims, is seen as humility and liberation of the Soul. It is to acknowledge a higher power greater than them. Unfortunately, Dust fulfills the negative stereotype that Islam is restrictive and that Allah is someone to constantly ask forgiveness from. I doubt these were the intentions of the writers, but it doesn’t take much to pick up on how secluded Dust is most of the time from her peers. It’s as if her social contact and interactions with the opposite sex is something she finds sinful, which is why she must be praying for “forgiveness.” It makes the reader perceive her as a “religious nut” as Surge calls her at one point. It makes me wonder what Dust enjoys doing on her free time? Who does she sit with during school assemblies? Who sits at her table during lunch breaks? These unanswered questions keep Dust’s character incomplete.

I know Muslim women who wear hijaab, niqaab, and even the burqa, and they still have social interactions with men. Since no Muslim alternative is presented, the writers risk Dust being stereotyped and generalized as what all Muslim women are like. It also formulates the stereotype that all Muslim women dress the way she does. There are some Muslims who praise Dust for being a devout Muslim girl who practices Islam “properly” because of the way she observes the burqa, but to praise Dust as a practicing Muslim on the basis of her burqa alone would be a serious mistake. It is also extremely offensive and even insulting because it marginalizes the Muslim women who don’t wear hijaab or the burqa. It makes them feel as if they’re not practicing Islam “properly” just because they don’t share the same views as other Muslims do about dress code. It creates a wild generalization that only Muslim women dressed in the burqa are spiritual, God-conscious, or practicing Muslims. Anyone familiar with Islamic teachings knows that the inward state of a human being is known to God alone, and just because someone wears a scarf over their head doesn’t immediately make them a pious person. Is Dust a devout Muslim? Yes. Is it because of her burqa? No. Dust states very clearly that she accepts other girls for the way they dress, and she only asks to be accepted for who she is in return. Perhaps we all can learn from Dust and learn how to accept one another for our differences.

So overall, can we appreciate a character like Dust? I think we can; however, there is a lot of room for improvement. As mentioned above, her character is incomplete and her character suffers from stereotypes that are due to misunderstandings about Islamic beliefs and practices. It bothers me that Dust is the product of a post-9/11 storyline, which features stereotypes towards Muslims, in the same way it bothers me that Wonder Woman is the product of a male fantasy. It also bothers me how weak her character is at times. In one scene, Dust loses her burqa after transforming back into human form. She is naked behind the bushes and asks Surge to hand her the burqa. This is insulting and serves no purpose at all except to weaken Dust’s character and to generate western pity for her: the poor Muslim girl who needs her burqa, otherwise she can’t go outside. How come none of the other characters lose their clothes, especially the female characters wearing short tank tops and shorts (or underwear for some)? They won’t lose their clothing, but a girl in a burqa will?

Please.

Surge then asks Dust what’s the big deal in men looking at her. “They’re just looking, so let them look,” says Surge. Dust, as usual, has weak comebacks and simply says Surge will not understand her. Again, I find this insulting because the writers use Surge to try to cheapen Dust and her personal beliefs. It would be nice to see Dust take a stronger stand for herself and not be so excluded because of her religion. It would also be nice to see more Muslim female characters that help shatter the stereotypes that have been generated about Muslim women. Possible ideas for female Muslim characters could include those who wear hijaab, don’t wear hijaab, and even those who are Shia or Sufi. After all, Islam celebrates diversity and embraces people of all ethnicities, cultures, genders, and schools of thought.

The concept of a female Muslim super-heroine in the realm of comic books is very exciting, but considering the role that women already suffer in comic books, we can expect that the road for characters like Dust won’t be steady. On one hand, she is applauded by a certain portion of readers, including some from the Muslim community, but perhaps, for the wrong reasons, while on the other hand, she is criticized for being too weak, one-dimensional, and stereotypical. There is potential for her to break boundaries, but there are risks and challenges involved: Right now, she is a supporting character in the “Young X-Men” series; is the west ready to see Dust with a comic book of her own?

If so, what political stance will writers take on Dust’s religion, culture, and home country? Will artists depict her without the burqa? Will new Muslim characters be introduced to accompany her? Only time will tell. Hopefully, we will see more stories that carry the spirit of the X-Men films rather than those that reinforce old stereotypes.

In Part 2, I will look at how Muslim women are depicted in comic books published in the Arab and Muslim world. So until then: To Be Continued!

UPDATE: I know a lot of people have been pointing out that Wolverine does in fact kill and as soon as it was mentioned to me, I immediately realized that the Wolverine I had in mind was from the cartoon TV series. It was a mistake on my part (but I did say, “maybe I missed something,” lol). Anyway, it’s been bit embarrassing for me, so I just wanted to clear that up and point out that I acknowledge the error. In any case, it was still disturbing for me to see the issue begin with a huge pile of slaughtered Taliban, especially considering how this issue follows the Genosha tribute (which symbolizes the 9/11 tribute). The fact that Morrison never revisits Dust seems suspicious to me — it’s as if he needed to create a good Muslim character in order to cover up the Taliban slaughter and the Muslim stereotypes (Pakistani man named MUHAMMAD hijacking the AIR-INDIA plane). Anyway, I hope everyone accepts my apology.

UPDATE: Johanna_hypatia from Live Journal recently shared some really interesting points on how western publishers have an obsession with depicting Muslim women with face veils, which has become iconic of all Muslim women, “especially when the veils sets off their kohl-enhanced eyes.” She also made the mentioning of Orientalism by Edward Said.

This is the rest of her comment: “Dust is following the same script… (t)he Orient is exoticized and feminized, the better to make it an alluring prize to be dominated by conquering white male imperialists. In actual fact, the percentage of Muslim women in the world who veil their faces is tiny. It’s practiced mainly in the Persian Gulf countries and hardly at all elsewhere. Muslim feminist Asra Nomani wrote about this trend, with the iconic veiled woman used to represent Muslim women who are in fact not veiled at all — and she even got one of the white male publishers to admit that they display the veiled image for its allure of mysteriousness. This is sexism and racism fused into one. See her article ‘Why Do Western Publishers Have a Veil Fetish?’”

~ Broken Mystic ~

Most travel books don’t prepare Black Americans for the experiences they will have abroad. Ever since I first traveled abroad, I have been bemoaning the lack of resources for Black women who want to see the world. I receive frequent emails from Black women who are either planning to go abroad or are already abroad and looking for resources. Last year, I suggested that someone should compile our stories so that I could support other sisters who want to travel abroad. That’s why I was happy to find this web resource,
U Go Gurl and the book, Go Girl.

FINALLY A TRAVEL BOOK FOR AFRICAN AMERICAN WOMEN.

A rich collection of fifty-two stories covering the globe. Sister-to-sister advice on everything from destination selection, to traveling solo, to saving money on airfare. Exploration and discussion of issues of particular concern to black women; dealing with racism, overcoming fears, claiming entitlement, etc. The book also includes a planning guide and a resourceful guide.

Maya Angelou tells the story of arriving in Africa a stranger but leaving claimed as a member of the Bambara tribe. Evelyn C. White writes about finding new pride in being black after visiting Egypt. Opal Palmer Adisa evokes the sights, sound, and aromas of urban Ghana where she traveled to meet her lifelong pen pal. Lucinda Roy brings alive the year she spent teaching girls in Sierra Leone and talks how the villagers’ friendship overcame her loneliness for home.

Alice Walker offers a quite meditation on how the beauty of the country stirred her imagination. Audre Lorde captures her experience of being refused entry to the British Virgin Islands because of her dreadlocks. Gwendolyn Brooks recounts the camaraderie and tensions of a trip to Russia with a group of American writers. Gloria Wade-Gayles explores the complexities of being both an American and a woman of color as a paying guest in a Mexican home.

“Whether traveling for escape and relaxation (”Sailing My Fantasy”), on a spiritual quest (”Red Dirt on My Feet”), in search of a mind-expanding, life-changing experience (”The Kindness of Strangers”), as a “going home,” finding one’s roots (”Before I Was a Bajan”), to find relief from racism (”Why Paris?”), to celebrate black culture (”In Search of Black Peru: Christmas in El Carmen”), to honor black history (”Visiting Nannytown”), to reach for understanding across cultural barriers, (”Japan of My Dreams”), to help others (”Seeing Things in the Dark”), or to open up new possibilities in one’s own life (”Genesis of the Traveling Spirit”), the travel experiences chronicled in Go Girl! will delight, enlighten, and inspire.”

I’m very excited to read the articles, as well as make a contribution to the site.

This is especially true in light of my many awkward social encounters while abroad that have somehow involved race. I’ll try to outline some of them, as well as stories my friends have recounted.

When I went to Durham England to do research for a week, I really felt like things were going pretty well and I was not confronted by awkward racially charged moments. I was satisfied with my research experience, the staff at the library and archive were very nice. I had many quiet walks through the half empty town and along the river. Nobody really talked to me, except during breakfast at the dining hall. On my last day in Durham, I had a conversation with a British man who either worked at the library or in the dining hall at the castle/hostel where I was staying in. I commented on the city’s quaintness, the beauty of the campus, my pleasant stay in a castle, and of course the library and archive. I was also interested in the Sudan studies program and getting a PhD in the UK is much faster then the unbearably long, endurance test that passes itself off as a PhD in the US.

Light heartedly I said I might return to Durham as a student in in a PhD program. The man said, “well that might be hard for you being that you’re black and people aren’t used to seeing Blacks in these parts.” I felt like saying, “Thanks for reminding me that I’m Black, for maybe drawing attention to all those awkward exchanges in stores or in restaurants, the extra looks I receive, all the things I ignored just to make the trip more comfortable. Thanks for highlighting that I can never fit in or fully comfortable in your country.” But I didn’t. Instead I tried to be pleasant and we ended the conversation shortly after. I liked Durham a lot less.

Traveling while Black in many parts of the world can expose you to some amazing experiences that help you put America’s racial dichotomy in better perspective.

In the Aswan region and Nubia, the Nubian vendors would call out, “Nubian! My cousin!!” In Marrakesh, some vendors pumped their fists, shouting out, “My sista!” Little kids would come up to me and ask if I was Moroccan. If traveling with Egyptians, I can get Egyptian or Moroccan rates as long as I don’t open my mouth and say something. Traveling incognegro can be beneficial. Sometimes people are even nicer. Egyptians, for example, love Barack Obama. They will talk endlessly about him. Sometimes there is solidarity, and that can be nice. Most of my travels have been in the Middle East, so there is often a Muslim solidarity that helps bridge the racial and cultural divide. When I was flying from Alexandria, Egypt to Kuwait, my carry on was way over the weight and size limit. The clerk at first was going to charge me, then he said, “Okay, you go! I like American Black Muslim!”

At the same time, you will find that racism is a global phenomena and that you may get a different reception than your white, Asian or Latino/Hispanic/Chicano counterparts. Sometimes it’s subtle, sometimes not so subtle. My friend who traveled to Spain said she would get approached by men who assumed she was a prostitute. One young man who went to France said that the French treated him like he was stupid until they found out he was American and then they just treated him like #$@*. When I traveled to Sharm al Shaikh, I was constantly stopped asked what room I was staying in. My roommate who was a stunning brunette with bright blue eyes, on the other hand, was never stopped and asked. She was the one to notice pattern.

At airports and security checkpoints, guards take extra time examining my passport, in disbelief that I was really American. In fact, most people find it hard to believe that I am just plain ole Black. I often say in broken Arabic, no may family has been in American min zaman (for ages). Also traveling in the Middle East, you may get anti-African sentiment due to illegal immigration from Sub-Saharan Africa to North Africa. n Europe, people can think you’re illegal. This is why I hold on really tight to my passport. Try to get on a flight to Heathrow with all those stickers from the Gulf, Morocco, and look phenotypically North African or from some “Moozlem country. You may just get detained as they run some background check, miss a flight for r no particular reason except you look like a possible terrorist. Don’t travel to all the “hot spots,” as the British intelligence officer who interrogated me as I was running late for a flight, called them.

People can say racist things also, especially the brats that run the streets. I was in Kuwait in a Bedouin neighborhood with my friend and her daughter on my way to a Mawlid. And these Bedouin boys were staring at my friend’s daughter and she at them. They made faces at her, she made faces at them. And I heard them say withing like “….Abeed!” My friend seemed to ignore it, and my friend’s daughter said, “They’re rude!” I was pretty hot, but at that time, they were really tired of my anti-racism tirades. So, I just made a mental note that bedouin kids who live what basically amounts to Kuwaiti projects (even thought the projects are much fatter than you’d ever have in the states), are racist little #$*$!! In Egypt, depending on how you look, kids and ignorant people will say rude and racist things. A European student studying at AUC said her friend came to visit and people would make monkey sounds. My friend’s husband has a Black British friend who was always asked the time. The thing was they would get a kick out of him lifting his shirt and still being really dark. And they’d go and laugh and laugh. Also, in social circumstances, you could have some awkward conversations where people say things that wouldn’t fly in America. People may not pay any attention to you, while they fawn over your paler friends.

Further, Europeans and Americans can assume you are just part of the landscape. You’re that native that needs to move out their way as. One time I was traveling with my friend from Bahia. We look very similar and people often assumed we were Moroccan, maybe from somewhere in the South. On our way from Casa Blanca to Fes, we found some British people were sitting in our seats. So, we were looking at our tickets and them. Mariah said, “Umm, these are our seats.” I was trying to speak to them in my clear American diction. The young couple just looked at us blankly and the crusty old man blurted out, “Doo Youu Sbeakk Frrrench?!”

I said, “No, I speak English!”

What really pissed me off was that he didn’t hear us because we were brown. He assumed that our non-British accent meant that we weren’t fluent speakers. Our brown skin rendered our language incomprehensible, as well as our rights to the first class seats that we purchased with our hard earned money.

Like the Sharm experience and the train, people may assume you are a migrant worker, refugee, or just have less money than your paler counterparts. Or they may doubt that you belong. I find it troubling that sometimes I have to talk in extra loud English to get some attention. This works wel in Kuwait because they love Americans. While your friends may be able to get their American privilege, you have to assert yours. “You better respect me, my country rules the World!” sometimes to get some your needs met. One of my friend advised dressing to the nines all the time. She said she dresses almost like a princess and spends lots of money. Then people treat her well. I’m not saying that you want to flash your passport or a fat stack of local currency. But really, you have to keep in mind that how people see you in the lands that you are visiting can shape your experiences in that country.

I definitely have to follow this up with a traveling as a Muslim woman, that’s a whole different trip.

In this clip from YouTube, we see Gitmo the Puppet’s first appearance, as well as a subsequent appearance. In Gitmo’s first appearance, he’s introduced as a bearded (and presumably Muslim) detainee of Guantanamo Bay with a fakey “Middle Eastern” accent. (He is also an obvious relative of Elmo, for those of you who can’t see the video. – Ed.) Gitmo pleads, “Tell Gitmo’s family Gitmo is aliiiive.”

In the subsequent appearance, Gitmo appears, calling for the execution (and therefore, according to Jon Stewart, martyrdom) of Sheikh Khalid Mohammed and other defendants who admit to planning terrorist activities. When Stewart questions him about his intentions, Gitmo says, “You can’t handle the truth” and then ululates. In retaliation, Stewart “waterboards” him and tells him not to complain or he’ll go back to the “untrained puppy room.” Cut to Gitmo being dragged around by a dog and wailing, “I’m just a cab driverrrrrrr…”

In Gitmo’s third appearance (starting at the 4.10 mark), we see him “inside” his Guantanamo Bay cell, protesting that the “crazy motherf*ckers locked up down here” shouldn’t be given habeas corpus. His former identity as a “cab driver from Karachi” is replaced with a menacing promise that, if freed, he’ll become a terrorist: “Gitmo go free. Gitmo go home, Gitmo go home to Damascus, get back in taxi cab, fill it with C-4, and drive it into east entrance of British embassy! (ululating)”

Never mind that Karachi and Damascus are in two different countries with two different languages and racial demographics. Either way, he’s “just a cab driver.”

The bearded, accented portrait that Gitmo paints is one of cultural shorthand for the term “terrorist”. Gitmo also reduces Guantanamo Bay inmates to a stereotypical job associated with Middle Eastern and South Asian immigrants. Hey, these are people, remember? Some of which have been unjustly and unconstitutionally imprisoned? Some of whom have family that doesn’t know there they are, whether they are dead or alive?

Having a beard and an accent (and driving a taxi, perhaps) is enough to get you profiled, searched, arrested, and incarcerated—is Gitmo making light of that or reinforcing it?

Either way, I don’t find it funny.

My responses to the episode ranged greatly. As the scene for conflict was set, a Pakistani mother, daughter and son get ready for dinner and their husband/father’s arrival home. They aren’t dressed in any way that marks them as particularly “ethnic” or even Muslim. I’m so used to seeing Muslim women scarved and exoticized by cultural clothing that I wrongly assumed the characters weren’t Muslim. I believe what ran through my head, and this is really telling of post 9/11 culture on my mindset even though I am Muslim, was, “Oh. Normal people who are also brown. Awesome!” Forgive the color label please. This is how my Desi friends refer to themselves. It’s not meant to be offensive.

Then it turned out that they were Muslim. And the mother does show up in a head scarf, but it’s a black scarf draped gently over her hair and revealing a good portion of it in a way that both suggests culture and mourning rather than religion. It turned out that her husband, whose kidnapping she witnessed, had been tortured and murdered. The FBIs assumption? He was in collusion with a terrorist cell based on his involvement with the Pakistani Relief Fund (he visited Pakistan and helped build a school and roomed with a man who shared a name with a terrorist). The PRF was suspected for funding terror. No proof was given, but for the terror specialists in the FBI, no proof was needed.

Charles Eppes, the mathmetician and FBI collaborator around which this show is built, took strong issue with this case. One of his professor friends was arrested in front of him for sending scientific files to Pakistan. This friend also contributed to the PRF. Sharing those files was illegal, it turned out, but there was no way the professor could have known that because the information on what can and can’t be shared is classified. It turned out the files were research on how to better crop yields in an area suffering from food shortages. But the man, ultimately, was still jailed and had to await trial. In an act of solidarity and rebellion, Charlie sent the remainder of his friend’s files to a scientist in Pakistan. His punishment? He lost his FBI privileges, but he was not detained. Actually, he went home and had a beer and thought about how his life would be different now that he wouldn’t be working with the FBI. Presumably, his friend was still in detention awaiting a trial for doing the same thing.

I realize this synopsis is a bit detailed, but bear with me. There were several threads happening here. There were Pakistanis whose ethnicity, religion and charitable donations warranted their arrest. A Pakistani whose actions, though identical to those of Charlie’s, landed him in detention. There was also a point where Charlie connected the case leader to a terrorist in three points, and pointed out that no one was throwing him in jail. And there was an incredibly curious twist.

Remember I said that no terrorists were at work here? Well, the assumption that it was terrorism stemmed from the fact that Pakistani Muslims involved in the PRF were kidnapped, tortured and killed. The idea of a terror cell was discarded when it turned out that the mind behind the crime was a member of the IRA who was, I kid you not, disguised as a Pakistani complete with accent. Think blackface. The man had made a place for himself in the PRF and was redistributing funds for his personal use running guns. In the meantime, he had planted some blueprints of schools to throw officials offtrack. It was really simple for him to make his escape (they caught him eventually under one of his known aliases). All he had to do was throw the suspicion onto Muslims. And some FBI members were ready to route through PRF files, bring in all the Muslims and, as they conceded, ruin their lives by implying accusations of terrorism on them.

I have to say that as a Muslim I was thrilled that is wasn’t the Muslims at fault here. And I was thrilled that Charlie took an anti-FBI stance. NUMB3RS is a liberal show and it often questions the Patriot Acts, but they took it to a new level with “When Worlds Collide.” I thought of this all when I read the following quote on Racialicious regarding “The Visitor”:

Overall, the characters’ Muslim background and immigrant status seem to outweigh their racial differences. And, in a post-9/11 world, a world in which the fact that Barack Obama’s estranged father was born into a Muslim family is a liability, it’s definitely refreshing to see Muslims shown as three-dimensional, loving people.

The opening scenes of NUMB3RS do what Miss Kareem is talking about here. The family is, as I noted, normal. There’s nothing to say they’re anything other than ordinary. Just people in their home living their lives. It’s only after their lives are upset that we learn they are Muslim, and then the complications of being Muslim and involved in a crime–even when you are a victim of it–begin to be revealed. First with racial/religious profiling. Then prejudice based on professional experience. Then through a refreshing twist: it wasn’t the Muslims after all. It was a greedy former member of the IRF (who btw was not a terrorist because he was working alone and was only distributing automatic weapons . . . or was it because he was White?).

I’ve been a big fan of NUMB3RS since it’s inception. I like the way the characters reflect on the choices they are asked to make in the name of protecting the innocent. The show constantly redefines innocence and guilt among both the accused and the accusers. I recommend watching the episode. You can find it here, on the CBS website.

My feeling on this condemnation of Islamophobic impulses on primetime TV is that a large number of Americans have reached a point of consensus that the selective persecution of Muslims based on faith and minority status is no longer acceptable. I would love to know what viewers and readers thought of this episode.