Islamophobia Did Not Begin on 9/11

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[Image description: a pair of hands hold a yellow poster board that reads “Islamophobia is Racism” in bold black ink.]
True Lies, Executive Decision, Not Without My Daughter, The Delta Force, Rules of Engagement, The Siege. These are just some of many Islamophobic Hollywood films produced before the attacks on September 11th, 2001. In fact, Jack Shaheen documented over 900 films in his book Reel Bad Arabs, which examined how U.S. cinema demonized Arabs for about 100 years. The book was originally published in July of 2001, 2 months before September 11th (it was adapted into a documentary in 2006). Although Shaheen’s research focused on media depictions of Arabs, he does note the way “Arab” gets conflated with “Muslim,” and vice versa. In his other critiques, particularly of Arabs in mainstream American comic books, he also mentions how Iranians, Muslims, and Arabs get treated as “one and the same.”

I did not want to write about 9/11 this year because of the way it is marked, particularly how everyone is expected to share their stories about where they were, what they felt, what grade they were in, whether they were on their way to work, etc. Over the years, where we have seen the bombings of Muslim-majority countries and racist attacks on other communities of color, there is never a universal call for commemoration or a moment of silence for people of color victimized by white supremacist terror. We are not taught to mark the dates of brutal atrocities against Afghans, Iraqis, Palestinians, Pakistanis, Yemenis, Somalis, Syrians, and other people of color. We are not told to hold annual memorials for racist murders and violence against Black people, Indigenous people, women of color, queer and trans people of color, and so on. We are not expected to know their names nor their stories. Instead, the state demands that we remember the lives lost on 9/11, not for the sake of these individuals and their families, but because the “threat of Islam” should remind the masses that the U.S. must continue its violence against Muslims and people of color everywhere in the name of “freedom” and “security.”

Last year, during the 14th anniversary of the attacks, I could not help but notice the articles about post-9/11 experiences that Muslims, Sikhs, South Asians, Arabs, Iranians, and others were sharing. I understood the use of the hashtag #AfterSeptember11 because I am aware of the heightened increase in discriminatory acts, hate crimes, vandalism, profiling, and detainment that many Muslims and those perceived to be Muslim experienced. The stories are powerful, heartbreaking, upsetting, and important, especially since Muslims are rarely, if ever, given a platform to share them in mainstream media. In the past, I have written about my experiences with racism and Islamophobia as well, but something I always realize in my reflections is that I, like many Muslims, encountered Islamophobia prior to 9/11, too.

The purpose of this piece is not to dismiss the post-9/11 stories at all, but rather emphasize an important point about how Islamophobia existed long before 9/11. Many commentaries I have read, written by both non-Muslims and Muslims alike, set September 11th as the start date of Islamophobia in the west (some even problematically label Osama bin Laden the “father of American Islamophobia”). We need to resist this narrative for its inaccuracy, but also because it reinforces violent erasure of both the past and the present — especially of Indigenous and Black peoples, including Black Muslims. Furthermore, the narrative reinforces the notion that Muslims “caused” Islamophobia.

Tracing the origins of Islamophobia is beyond my area of expertise, but we know bigotry and hostility against Muslims began as early as the advent of Islam. In 7th century Makkah, Islam challenged many traditional practices of the Quraish, the dominant tribe at the time. Like all movements against social injustice, the oppressors treated Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and the early Muslims as disruptive and threatening to the status quo. The call to abolish female infanticide (Qur’an, 16:58-59), for example, represents one of many examples of how it is impossible to separate Islam from its advocacy for social justice. Resisting oppression (4:75), respecting and honoring human diversity (30:22), building alliances with other communities (49:13), and standing out firmly for justice (4:135) are all integral to Islam’s spiritual message. The early Muslims faced adversity, persecution, and dispossession at the hands of the Quraish. Many Muslims were tortured and often killed by the Quraish for converting to Islam.

In her book, Muslims in the Western Imagination, Sophia Rose Arjana proposes the question:”How did we get here?” That is, how did we get to this place and time when we see Islamophobic sentiments, practices, and policies in the west? Arjana argues that these realities are “not simply a result of September 11, 2001, Madrid 2004, or London 2005, nor a culmination of events of the past decade or the past century.” While acknowledging the increased visibility of Islam and Muslims following these incidents, as well as U.S. invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, Arjana points out:

“[T]hese concerns represent old anxieties that lie within a multiplicity of times and spaces on the pages of manuscripts and canvases of paintings, in works of great drama, poetry, and fiction, within travel diaries and government documents, and on the screens of movie theaters. To find the answer to the question posed here, we must look at numerous fields of cultural production; there, we find a vision of Islam that is both familiar and unsettling. Within it, we must seek what is common. What is common is the Muslim monster.”

For medieval Christian writers and poets, Prophet Muhammad was viewed as a “heretic,” “inspired by the devil,” and even the “Anti-Christ.” Chapati Mystery has an excellent article that provides a detailed historical overview of western depictions of the Prophet. The author writes:

“The earliest Christian polemics saw Muhammad as a corruption, and as an imposter who was taking on the crown of Christ. . . . The histories of Crusades written in the twelfth centuries – such as the Gesta Dei per Francos – cast ‘Mathomus’ as an epileptic who was inspired by the devil to corrupt Christians. The effort to portray a bumbler, foamer-at-the-mouth, a charlatan is a theme in many of these narratives.”

In later medieval writings, the article mentions Muhammad portrayed as “frequently ‘wicked,’ ‘with a desparate stomach,’ and delighted with rapes and plunder, or was seducer of women, of mongrel birth, and whose name tallied up to 666.” In the 14th century classic, the Divine Comedy, Italian poet Dante Alighieri placed Prophet Muhammad and Imam Ali in the 8th circle of Hell, condemning them to vicious torment for being sowers of religious divisiveness.

The article also highlights on racialized and demonizing commentary about the Prophet appearing in the first English translation of the Qur’an in 1649. In the text’s introduction, as the author points out, Muhammad is described as “the great Arabian imposter” who arrived in England “by way of France.” He is compared to an “African monster” for “people to gaze at, not to dote upon.” This likening of the Prophet to an “African monster” is significant as it reflected medieval Europe’s view of black skin symbolizing the devil, demons, and monsters. Arjana’s aforementioned book delves into the long history of Muslims being constructed as monsters, a “recurring theme” that was “first formulated in medieval Christian thought.” Examining medieval writings as early as the 5th century, she writes:

“Dark skin was understood as a theological consequence of sin. Gregory the Great claimed that Ethiopia was a sign of the fall of mankind, and other Christian writers followed suit, tying dark skin to sin and perdition. Jeremiah surmised that the Ethiopian’s skin could change like a leopard—one of many examples in which Africans were likened to animals. Muslims were often depicted with black, blue, or purple skin. Muslims reportedly worshipped Venus, a black goddess ‘dressed in a gold robe with a striking red blob for its hellish tongue.’ Islam has, from the beginning, been an identity situated in racial, ethnic, and cultural difference.”

Western Europe referred to Muslims as “Saracens,” who were “described as Muhammad’s progeny” and seen as a “monstrous race that spawned a number of creatures, including one of the more popular characters of the medieval Christian imagination — the Black Saracen.” According to Arjana, medieval paintings and depictions of the Black Saracen was an amalgamation of three entities: Saracen, Jew, and African — a “hybrid monster.” She also notes that while Saracen “initially referred only to Arabs, it was soon applied to Muslims, Ethiopians, and Jews.” Furthermore, the terms “Saracens,” “Turks” and “Moors” were used interchangeably, often conflated to describe the “Muslim enemy.”

It is important to note that “Moor” was a term many Europeans applied to Africans since ancient times, not just in post-Islamic times. Contrary to popular belief, “Moor” does not mean “Muslim;” it was a word used by Europeans to describe black-skinned people. The origin of “Moor” is from the Greek word  “μαυρο” or “mavro which means “black, blackened, or charred.” When North African Muslims (predominately Berber), led by Tariq ibn Ziyad, invaded Visigothic Hispania in 711, Europeans used the term “Moor” to refer to Muslims in Spain and North Africa. Like the present, Muslims were made up of diverse racial and ethnic groups, and after the 8th century, according to Dana Marniche, use of “Moor” began to include many Arabs “who had invaded the Mediterranean and Africa because of their complexions which were the same dark brown or near black to absolutely black color of the Berbers.” What we see in European demonization of Africans and black skin is obvious anti-blackness, and in their conflation of diverse ethnic Muslim groups, we see racialization of Islam and Muslims, which persists today (as I wrote in my post, “Debunking the ‘Islam is Not a Race’ Argument”).

As one can imagine, demonization of Islam and Muslims was pervasive throughout the Middle Ages, especially during the Crusades. The Crusades: A Reader provides a comprehensive collection of documents and speeches from both Muslim and Western Christian sources. Prior to the First Crusade in 1096, the Byzantine emperor Alexius I needed assistance to defend against Turkish forces near Constantinople, so he wrote to Pope Urban II. The latter was so tired of Christians fighting and killing other Christians in civil wars that he saw this as the perfect opportunity for Christians to unite and channel their hatred towards the Muslims. More important than helping defend Constantinople, what appealed to Pope Urban II the most was the prize of Jerusalem in the East — if Christian armies could capture Jerusalem, he would be remembered throughout history as the man who drove out the “infidels” and “rescued” the Holy Land.

During his sermon at a church council in Clermont, France, Pope Urban II declared that taking up arms against “the vile race” (Muslims) was “commanded by Christ.” He promised direct salvation; anyone who participated or fought in the Crusades would have their sins remitted instantly and granted entrance to Heaven. In addition to spiritual rewards, there were promises of treasures and wealth in “the land of milk of honey.” According to numerous accounts of his speech, Muslims were described as “barbarians,” “infidels,” and an “accursed and foreign race” that “worships demons.” Unsurprisingly, the Pope used strong religious language to justify war and also exaggerated about the mistreatment Christians experienced under Muslim rulers. For instance, he stated: “They (Muslims) circumcise the Christians and pour the blood from their circumcision on the altars or in the baptismal fonts. . . . It is better to say nothing of their horrible treatment of the women.” The depiction of Muslims as “barbaric” and the focus on Muslim men’s “horrible treatment” of women can still be found in the language and narratives used today to launch wars against Muslims. This is not to deny real issues regarding misogyny in Muslim communities, but rather to challenge western political narratives that exploit the struggles of Muslim women to justify bombings and invasions of Muslim-majority countries. The West’s hypocrisy on sexual violence is no different than how Crusader knights would rape women (whether they be Muslim, Jewish, or Christian women) and never be held accountable while pointing fingers at Muslim men as the “real” perpetrators of sexual violence.

Casting Muslims as “infidels,” “demons,” and “evil” is something we still see today. U.S. president Barack Obama, hardly an ally to Muslims, is thought to be Muslim by nearly a third of Americans, including 43% of Republicans. Many extremist white Christians have been explicit in stating that both Muslims and Obama are “of the devil,” a belief reflecting an old, though prevalent, Western/European tradition of demonizing Muslims and Black people. In The History Channel’s miniseries, The Bible, where Jesus (peace be upon him) and his disciples are portrayed by white men, Satan was not only depicted as a dark-skinned man, but many also claimed there was a striking resemblance to Barack Obama. Criticism led to producers eventually cutting the scenes, but whether or not the resemblance to Obama was intentional, the main issue remained: the devil is depicted as a Black man. It can be argued that given the history of linking Muslims with blackness and blackness with evil, present-day demonization of Islam and images of a Black male devil represent Western anxieties of the Black Saracen mentioned in Arjana’s research. Moreover, this demonization goes beyond hatred of Obama specifically and reflects the reality of white supremacist attitudes, violence, and laws that target Black people (both Muslim and non-Muslim).

As we continue to examine history, we see more examples of military offenses against Muslim-majority regions. The Catholic reconquest of Spain — the Reconquista — was a long and violent Crusade over a period of 770 years that sought to expel Muslims from Europe. In 1492, Catholic forces led by King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella were successful in defeating the last Muslim stronghold in Granada. As a result, Muslims and Jews were forced to convert or leave their homeland. As we know, 1492 was also the same year Ferdinand and Isabella sponsored Christopher Columbus’ expedition to the so-called “New World,” as it fueled their interest in expanding European Christian domination.

The brutal European colonial expansion and conquest of Indigenous peoples and lands in North and South America and the Caribbean islands led to colonizers demanding the labor of enslaved Africans. According to Muna Mire, about 10-15% of the Africans forced into slavery were Muslim (other sources estimate up to 30% of enslaved Africans were Muslim). As Mire writes in her important article, “Towards a Black Muslim Ontology of Resistance”:

The first Muslims in America were Black. They were stolen from the western coast of Africa – modern-day Gambia, Nigeria, Senegal – and brought to the New World through violence. Some ten to fifteen percent of enslaved Africans brought to America as chattel practiced Islam as their faith when they landed on American shores. From the genesis of the American project, their labor – Black Muslim labor – would build the country from the ground up. But white Christian slaveowners did not tolerate these Africans practicing the religion they were born into. Enslaved Africans were converted to Christianity, wholesale, under threat of further violence. Like marriage, gatherings of Black people larger than three or four persons, or any other self-determined social custom, non-Christian religiosity was a threat to be eliminated amongst the enslaved. Black Muslim existence as Black resistance is as old as America itself.

History of Black Muslim resistance is erased in U.S. history textbooks, Muslim-American narratives, and discourse about Islamophobia. Instead, Islamophobia is treated as a post-9/11 phenomenon that primarily targets non-black Muslims. Mire emphasizes another critical fact: “Black Muslims existed prior to the colonial systems which brought them to the Americas, and they have been fighting assimilation for centuries. For a long time, to be Black has been to be Muslim.” Yet Black Muslim resistance against European conquest, slavery, forced conversion, white supremacy, police brutality, and assimilation are shamefully missing from dominant discourse about Islamophobia and Muslims in the U.S. As I have written before, anti-blackness among non-black Muslims and other people of color is a reality that cannot be ignored. In an interview with Al-Muslimoon Magazine in February, 1965, Malcolm X commented on how Muslims in Muslim-majority countries ignored the struggles Black Americans faced:

“Much to my dismay, until now, the Muslim world has seemed to ignore the problem of the Black American, and most Muslims who come here from the Muslim world have concentrated more effort in trying to convert white Americans than Black Americans.”

While I’m not an advocate of converting non-Muslims to Islam, Malcolm’s comment are important here because it reflects anti-black attitudes among non-black Muslims. Today, we may hear South Asian, Arab, and white Muslims speak proudly of Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, and Hazrat Bilal, but still perpetuate anti-blackness in their communities. It is not uncommon to find non-black Muslims enthusiastically speaking about Islamic history and Muslim contributions to science, mathematics, and art, but resist acknowledging that many of these Muslims were also African. A color-blind “Islam does not see race” attitude continues to prevail in our communities, which works to further invisibilize Black Muslims, especially Black Muslim women. As Donna Auston stresses, this erasure “renders our communities even more vulnerable — to Islamophobia, to anti-black racism (including from within the Muslim community), and to all of the attendant perils that accompany them.”

What we have come to understand as Islamophobia today has primarily meant focus on the experiences of Arab and South Asian Muslim men. Marking September 11th, 2001 as the “starting point” of Islamophobia means erasing history of demonization, military campaigns, violence, and laws that have targeted diverse populations of Muslims around the world. The narrative also implies that the U.S. was not a hostile environment for people of color before 9/11, as it ignores genocide against Indigenous peoples, slavery of Africans, and institutionalized white supremacy. Sometimes I’ll read articles written by non-black Muslims who reinforce the mythical idea of a pre-9/11 “racial harmony.” This dangerously negates anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-imperialist, and anti-colonial struggles that Black people, Indigenous people, and other people of color have fought and continue to fight.

What do we make of Israel’s violent dispossession of Palestine, Indian military occupation of Kashmir, U.S. imperialism in Muslim-majority countries, and the media’s demonization of Muslims if we believe Islamophobia did not begin until 9/11? What about the Islamophobic news coverage and bigotry that followed the Oklahoma City terrorist attack when Muslims were heavily blamed? In my personal experiences, as a Pakistani Muslim who grew up in a predominately white suburban town in the U.S., I recall my history teachers depicting Islam as a “backwards” religion. The Crusades was extremely romanticized, especially the figure of Richard the Lionheart, and our teacher made us believe Muslims started the wars and lost. In addition to brutally executing 3,000 captured Muslim prisoners, Richard the Lionheart never made it to Jerusalem, but was deemed the “hero of the Crusades.” In my high school social studies class, the teacher assigned everyone to do a presentation on terrorist organizations. All of the terrorist organizations we had to choose from were Arab and Muslim groups. When teaching the class about Islam, this same teacher showed us the anti-Muslim, anti-Iranian propaganda film, Not Without My Daughter. All of this happened before 9/11.

But Islamophobia goes beyond people saying or doing offensive and bigoted things to Muslims. Unfortunately, many liberals and western-based Muslim organizations treat Islamophobia as simply being about ignorance and individual acts of bigotry. I believe this is one of the major consequences of marking 9/11 as the origin of Islamophobia because the discourse places the blame of Islamophobia on the actions of other Muslims. In other words, the more we perpetuate the idea that Islamophobia began on 9/11, the less we understand Islamophobia within the larger context of white supremacy and historical hostility against Muslims and Islam. Not recognizing Islamophobia as institutionalized and state racism doesn’t just fail other Muslims, but also places us in opposition to building solidarity with other communities, especially Indigenous Peoples.

For instance, it is not hard to find articles filled with narratives about how non-black and non-indigenous Muslims claim the U.S. as their “homeland,” and how they are treated as “strangers in their own land.” Representatives of mainstream western-based Muslim organizations (that center on non-black Muslims) have often stated that Islamophobia is the “only form of acceptable racism left.” To disprove this absurd and, frankly, self-absorbed statement, one just needs to look at the countless examples of how racism against Black people, Indigenous peoples, Latino/as, East Asians, and other communities of color are still viewed as acceptable. Blackface in the media, films depicting “Yellow Peril” (including the recent film, No Escape), Native American sports mascots and Halloween “costumes,” assigning the dehumanizing term “illegal alien” to Latino/as and other immigrants are only a few examples of normalized and acceptable racism that exists. We still see white men, especially police officers, walk free after murdering Black and Indigenous peoples.

In response to narratives where non-black and non-indigenous Muslims refer to the U.S., Canada, and other settler states as their “own land,” we need to understand how we become complicit in perpetuating genocide and settler colonialism against Indigenous Peoples. As mentioned above, many non-black and non-indigenous Muslims in the U.S. expressed how they felt like “outsiders for the first time” in their “own country” after 9/11. Indeed, it is a frightening and dangerous reality that Muslims are treated as perpetual threats, subject to racial profiling and detainment, placed under surveillance, and face discrimination in their schools, workplaces, and neighborhoods. The purpose is not to negate any of these realities and experiences, but instead advocate that we resist narratives that assume we are the “only” community (i.e. non-black and non-indigenous Muslims) that faces racism. Instead, we should recognize that our struggles against racism and oppression are connected to the struggles of other marginalized communities. How many North American-based Muslim civil rights groups have stood in solidarity with the struggles of Indigenous people who have seen their land stolen from them for over 500 years?  Why are so many “American Muslim” (and other western Muslim) groups so invested in assimilating Muslims into the very colonial systems that seek to exterminate Indigenous Peoples?  In the recent and brilliant online editorial, “Critical Transnational Feminist Analysis of Settler Colonialism,” one of the editors, Shaista Patel, powerfully articulates the importance of ethically engaging with other communities and understanding how struggles are interconnected. She writes:

“For those of us who work with the question of violence against Indigenous, Black and other bodies of colour, we are required to pay attention to the fact that these violences are intimately connected across spaces and times… For some of us, the question of complicity here as people living on stolen land, requires that we look into our histories and that we pay attention to all bodies who continue to demand that we ethically engage with violences. Paying attention to such questions moves us across continents, from past into present and back into the past and so forth. It asks us to trace the contradictions of the Empire which places us as both victims of violence but also as perpetrators of violence.”

All of us are participants in maintaining the interlocking systems of oppression, but we can make more ethical, diligent, and compassionate efforts to be more conscious of our privileges, responsibilities, and complicities. Recognizing these intersections and contradictions (within and outside of ourselves) reminds us that our liberation cannot be dependent on oppressing the rights of others. In an earlier piece, “Defining Muslim Feminist Politics through Indigenous Solidarity Activism,” Patel describes how Muslim solidarity with Indigenous Peoples comes from “an understanding that some of our historical trajectories coincide.” She cites how genocide against Indigenous Peoples in the “New World” and “expulsion of the last Muslims in Spain” were taking place in the same year of 1492. Additionally, she states:

“These braided histories of foundational violence of the ‘New World’ and Spain’s repudiation of its internal Others are important to remember so that we don’t forget how our destinies in a white-supremacist global order are tied in very material ways. . . . The history and present of the U.S. as a strong white settler-colonial and imperial power needs to be taken into account when movements in support of Palestinians, Afghanis, Iraqis, and other Muslims here are mobilized.”

I cite and raise the points mentioned above because I believe they can help us understand the damage mainstream narratives about post-9/11 Islamophobia causes.  We are not going to stop Islamophobia if we think the West “suddenly” and “abruptly” became Islamophobic after 9/11, as if no history of racism and anti-Muslim bigotry existed before.  If we were to apply this logic to white Christians, we would be seeing institutionalized oppression against white Christians in the West as a response to all of the murders and crimes carried out by white people. Islamophobia needs to be recognized as being ingrained in state racism.  Furthermore, as Patel asserts, we need to understand Islamophobia as encompassing anti-blackness, as well as white supremacy (including white Christian supremacy), heteropatriarchy, imperialism, colonialism, Orientalism, Zionism, and so on. To truly understand Islamophobia in all of its complexity and intersections, it requires us to look beyond 9/11 and closely examine history.

I’ll conclude with saying there is no denying that Islamophobia and demonization of Islam and Muslims intensified after 9/11. I am not against Muslims writing about their post 9/11 experiences either, especially when there are so many efforts to silence us. Let’s keep telling our stories; they are important and need to be heard. The point I’m emphasizing is that, when we tell our stories, we need to resist narratives that set 9/11 as the “starting point” of Islamophobia because such narratives make us complicit in reinforcing notions that the U.S. (and the West in general) was once “kind” to Muslims and people of color. It is true that some Muslims did not experience Islamophobia and racism before 9/11, but we must not establish this as a truth for all Muslims and people of color. Instead of treating anti-Muslim bigotry as a “new phenomenon,” we need to remember that it has existed for centuries. Understanding this reality and challenging the post-9/11 discourse about Islamophobia is critical not just for building alliances and solidarity with other communities, but also for building solidarity and unity within the Muslim community.

Muslims Don’t Have to Be U.S. Soldiers to Qualify as Human

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A Pakistani girl, Nabila Rehman, holds a picture she drew of U.S. drone strikes that attacked her village in Pakistan and killed her grandmother.

Here’s a thought: Instead of saying Muslim Americans should be defended because they are “partners” in the “fight against terrorism,” how about we simply say, “Muslims, whether they are citizens of the U.S. or not, should be defended because they are human“?

During the DNC, Bill Clinton addressed Muslim Americans directly and stated, “If you’re a Muslim and you love America and freedom and you hate terror, stay here and help us win and make a future together. We want you.”

Many Muslims on Twitter reacted to Clinton’s speech and criticized the notion that Muslims are always discussed within the context of terrorism, even when we’re being defended against Islamophobia. In one of my tweets, I pointed out that Republicans and Democrats have the same “defense” of Muslims: We are only “good” if we’re (1) American citizens and (2) perceived and treated as pawns to help advance U.S. imperialism.

In other responses around Twitter, I saw Muslims declaring their love for the U.S. and proclaiming that they should not have to “prove” their loyalty as Americans,  especially when the same is never demanded of White non-Muslim citizens. While I recognize that there are many Muslim Americans who do genuinely love the United States and identify as proud Americans, I think it’s crucial that we amplify the Muslim voices and narratives that move beyond the notion that citizenship status, or one’s “Americanness,” should serve as a qualifier for one’s humanity.

In other words, why are there prerequisites for Muslims to qualify as human beings?

Last night, the DNC commemorated a Muslim American soldier, Captain Humayun Khan, who served in the U.S. military and was killed in Iraq. Khizr Khan, the soldier’s father, delivered a speech that many people, including Republicans, considered “the most powerful speech” at the DNC. I recognize and anticipate the possibility that some readers may think my comments about this are insensitive or inappropriate, but I want to emphasize that I do acknowledge that the pain of Khan’s parents is unimaginable. This post is not an attack on them. One of the most popular Hadiths of the Prophet (peace be upon him) that Muslims are taught is: “The believers in their mutual kindness, compassion, and sympathy are just like one body. When one of the limbs suffers, the whole body responds to it with wakefulness and fever” (Sahih al-Bukhari).

In this regard, of course it is upsetting to hear about the loss of another person, whether they are Muslim or not, especially when we hear it from their parents. It is also upsetting when we hear about the Muslims and other people of color murdered by U.S. wars, drone strikes, state violence, and continued support for Israel’s occupation of Palestine and India’s occupation of Kashmir. Our hearts should still ache for those who suffer under the boot of oppression, no matter who the perpetrator is. We should organize and hold vigils for the victims of drone attacks in Somalia, Yemen, Pakistan, and Afghanistan just like people organized vigils for the victims killed by the Taliban in Peshawar. The citizenship status or the lack of “Americanness/Westernness” of the victims should not cause us to be less outraged. We should not be silent about sexual violence against Muslim women in Afghanistan and Iraq when the rapists are U.S. soldiers and not the Taliban. We should not be silent about the 56 murdered civilians in Syria just because the attack was carried out by the U.S. and not by ISIS.

The harsh reality we are confronted with each time U.S. politicians use the Good Muslim/Bad Muslim framework is that Muslims are only of value when we are state-friendly, fight in U.S. wars, support Islamophobic policies, and vilify non-western Muslims. This image of the “Good Muslim” is purposefully a monolithic one. What fails to be addressed, including by certain prominent Muslim American leaders, is that Muslims who don’t fit the “Good Muslim” category are either in danger or at risk of danger. A Muslim is not “ineligible” to be treated and respected as a fellow human on this planet if s/he is not a U.S. citizen, not patriotic, not pro-war, not assimilated, not the palatable image that mainstream western society wants her/him to be.

The majority of Muslim Americans do not serve in the U.S. army. The majority of Muslim Americans are not police officers. The majority of Muslim Americans are not working for Homeland Security. Despite representing a very small minority in the U.S. Muslim community, these were the individuals that the DNC preferred to mention, showcase, and provide a platform for. We didn’t see or hear any mentioning of the Muslim youth who stand up courageously against racist and Islamophobic bullying, or the Black and Brown Muslim activists who march against police brutality, heteropatriarchy, imperialism, and settler colonialism.

But this doesn’t only reflect a problem with Democrats and Republicans. As Hafsa Kanjwal writes, Muslim Americans have also internalized Islamophobia. People in our communities promote U.S. exceptionalism and “Us versus Them” narratives (in the form of Western Muslim versus non-Western Muslim) just as much as U.S. politicians do. Meanwhile, as Kanjwal points out, “critical Muslim voices that question the impact of destructive imperial, military and economic policies abroad and our own community’s complicity in it are drowned out by voices that are far more palatable to the mainstream American audience.”

Throughout my conversations with Muslims in my local community and on social media, I am consistently hearing more and more criticism expressed against the U.S. exceptionalism that many mainstream Muslim American organizations and leaders promote. When the latter reinforce pro-nationalist narratives, they refuse to see how it vilifies movements that are anti-racist, anti-heteropatriarchal, anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist, and anti-colonialist. When these same Muslim American groups refuse to at least acknowledge that the U.S. was built on the enslavement of Africans and genocide against Indigenous Peoples, how can we expect them to recognize movements that confront and challenge the structural violence against Black, Brown, and Indigenous communities?

What should not be silenced are the voices that say there is nothing wrong with being against U.S. imperialism, white supremacy, heteropatriarchy, and settler colonialism. I’ve spoken to a lot of Muslims who feel conflicted about being American or don’t want to be patriotic AND. THAT’S. OK. There is nothing wrong with speaking out against U.S. militarism and the toxic masculinity that comes along with it. Just because there are Muslims and Sikhs in the U.S. Army does not mean Black and Brown communities in the U.S. and around the world are “safer.” When a U.S. Muslim soldier kills a Muslim in Afghanistan, are we to automatically demonize and devalue the life of the latter? If a Brown Muslim police officer racially profiles me, is it less racist and Islamophobic?

We don’t have to be soldiers serving in the U.S. army for people to care about us. We don’t have to watch the same TV shows or listen to the same bands as White non-Muslim Americans to be considered human. We don’t have to be American, Canadian, British, French, or Australian citizens to have human rights. And of course, we may happen to love the same TV shows and musicians as the White non-Muslims around us, but my point is, it’s OK if we don’t. Those aren’t prerequisites to being a person.

When we internalize and reinforce these “qualifiers” to determine who the “Good Muslims” and “Bad Muslims” are, we become complicit in dehumanizing all Muslims. It’s a “guilty-until-proven-innocent” mentality that racists and Islamophobes have been propagating. If we are truly concerned about liberation and justice for all peoples, we need to resist and actively challenge the reproducing of U.S. exceptionalism, white supremacy, imperialism, and other forms of oppression in our own communities.

Against Collective Blame: A Response to Haroon Moghul

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In the aftermath of the horrific mass murder of 49 people, primarily Latinx, in Orlando, we hear the usual Islamophobic rhetoric, language (e.g. using “terrorist/terrorism” as code for “Muslim/Islam”), and commentaries from U.S. politicians, mainstream media outlets, and Islamophobes. In contrast to these simplistic, racist, and Islamophobic narratives, several articles have emphasized on solidarity between LGBTQIA Latinx and LGBTQIA Muslim communities. Additionally, queer Muslims continue to highlight on the intersections of racism, homophobia, transphobia, and Islamophobia, and many activists and organizations have called for the rejection of Islamophobia in response to Orlando.

Then I read Haroon Moghul’s latest article on CNN’s website.

Titled “How Muslims can fight extremism,” the article is filled with many of the issues I had with Fareed Zakaria’s CNN segment about how Muslims “need to take more active measures” against extremism. Moghul makes a similar argument, stating that “condemning terrorism is a woefully inadequate response to a persistent menace.” Reinforced throughout the piece is the harmful and dangerous notion that Muslims have not been “doing enough” to confront extremism and are therefore collectively complicit in violence carried out by other Muslims. Let’s go through his article point by point.

1. “How else is it that a small band of vile extremists have come to dominate the conversation about Islam, except that we have let this happen to us? Let’s take a long, hard, awkward look in the mirror.”

It’s hard to read these sentences without being appalled. They essentially assert that the vast, overwhelming majority of Muslims — 1.5 billion of us — are to blame for “letting” the extremists “dominate the conversation about Islam.” It is not the fault of Islamophobes, it is not the fault of Hollywood’s 100+ years of demonizing and vilifying Muslims, it is not the fault of the mainstream media very rarely providing platforms for Muslims to speak (and if they do, the Muslim guests are often bullied and vilified), and it’s certainly not the fault of U.S. imperialism in Muslim-majority countries. No, it’s our fault, the 1.5 billion Muslims who “let” the extremists “dominate the conversation about Islam.” Exactly how Muslims “let” this happen is never discussed or articulated in the article.

It’s disturbing how Moghul erases the voices of countless Muslims, who have not only been speaking out against crimes committed by other Muslim-identified individuals, but have also been working tirelessly against Islamophobia, anti-black racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and other forms of oppression. I’m not just talking about protests or community activism, but also about individual people who have to fight these oppressive forces every day in their workplaces, schools, and even in their own families. When Muslim youth are bullied and harassed in schools by both classmates and teachers, are we to say to them, “Sorry, but the bullies only think your religion is violent because you haven’t done enough to stop extremists from speaking for you, so there’s nothing we can do to help you”? When my parents worked multiple jobs and faced workplace discrimination, such as dealing with racist bosses and co-workers who would make fun of their accents and refer to them as “camel jockeys,” should I have turned to them and asked, “Why haven’t you done anything to stop these extremists from dominating the conversation about Islam”? See how ridiculous all of this sounds?

As my readers know, I don’t believe Muslims should have to publicly condemn crimes committed by other people. The same is never expected nor demanded of White Christians when a White Christian man carries out violence, so why should the burden be placed on Muslims? This position is often mistaken as being stubborn and close-minded, but it is really about equality and justice. If we really believe in equality, then we should not be treating one group of people different than another. 

Despite my position on this, Muslim community leaders and organizations in the U.S. and around the world have always condemned violent acts committed by other Muslims. Moghul, like Zakaria, acknowledges this, but insists that condemnations are “not enough” and that Muslims need to “do more.”

2. “The hundreds of millions of Muslims who reject extremism must start building out real, institutional alternatives to extremism, with serious funding, talent and commitment behind them. We’ve spent tens of millions of dollars in the United States, for example, and on what? We have some nice mosques. Most of them are empty most of the week, except for a few hours every Friday afternoon. We built some Islamic schools. I guess that’s cool. But on the major metric, we’ve failed. It feels as if we are more unpopular than ever.”

There is a lot to unpack here. First, let’s contextualize who the “hundreds of millions of Muslims” are. This is something that should stick in people’s minds: Whenever we talk about the “Muslim community” or the global Muslim population, we should remember that we are talking about a population that spans from Morocco to the borders of China, with significant Muslim populations in non-Muslim majority countries in Europe, North America, and other parts of the world. In other words, Muslims are not a monolith, and the global Muslim community is incredibly diverse and complex. In addition to ethnic and racial diversity, there is also spiritual diversity: Sunni Muslims, Shia Muslims, Ismaili Muslims, Ahmadi Muslims, Sufi Muslims, and so on.

Moghul proposes that these very Muslims, the ones who make up the racially, culturally, spiritually, and politically diverse majority, should invest in building “alternatives to extremism.” The implication here seems to be that “alternatives to extremism” don’t already exist in Muslim communities. The other, and perhaps more disturbing, implication is that the majority of Muslims are “potential terrorists,” and if we don’t listen to Moghul’s ideas about investing in “alternatives to extremism,” then more Muslims will become violent. The “Violent Muslim” is an inevitability, according to this logic.  Whether Moghul realizes that he is implicitly furthering the norm that Muslims should be treated as a suspect community, I’m not sure, but the erasure of Muslim organizing here is dangerous.

Throughout my undergraduate and graduate studies, I have seen Muslims organizing and actively participating in events, protests, fundraisers, and talks that address a wide range of issues, including interfaith dialogue, Muslim feminism, Islamophobia, solidarity with Black Lives Matter, justice for Palestine, etc. In Philadelphia, I see so many amazing events and initiatives organized by Muslims, many of which I have not been able to attend. Just last weekend, there was a panel workshop on “(Re)imagining Queer Unions in Islam.” Next month, the Philadelphia-based Muslim Wellness Foundation will be hosting its 2nd annual Black Muslim Psychology conference. The Muslim Life Program at Princeton University has also hosted countless events highlighting on issues that are often marginalized, such as Muslim women in the arts, narratives of the Black Muslim experience, Muslim masculinities, Muslim mental health, and so on (all of these events are open to the public, not just for Princeton students). The Muslim Anti-Racism Collective (or MuslimARC) focuses on racial justice education, outreach, and advocacy, often addressing intracommunity racism, particularly anti-Black racism in the Muslim community.

Are these groups and programs not “doing enough”?  Have these groups “let” the extremists “dominate the conversation about Islam”? If mainstream media does not provide any coverage of the work Muslims are doing on the ground, is it their fault that the media depicts Islam/Muslims as violent? Is it their fault that Muslims are now “more unpopular than ever”? Moghul does not seem to understand how white supremacy operates as a system, especially in the way it socializes people to view White people as individuals and treat people of color as representatives of the entire groups they belong to. This is the reason why we don’t see laws and policies target White people after a White terrorist commits an atrocious act of violence (even though White males represent more than half of the perpetrators responsible for mass shootings). Rather than blaming Muslims for how negatively we’re viewed, we should be working in solidarity against a racist system that has always privileged White people over communities of color.

I don’t present the examples of Muslim organizations above to suggest that the Muslim community is perfect. Not at all. Muslim communities, just like any other community, have the responsibility of challenging problems within, such as sexism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, anti-black racism, and other oppressive practices. However, acknowledging these problems within our communities is very different from collectively blaming Muslims for the violent actions of people like Omar Mateen. I also mention the Muslim organizations above because Moghul creates the impression that all Muslims seem to do is build mosques and Islamic schools (as if there isn’t anything significant about investing in these projects). After reading Moghul’s article, one would think that Muslims are an isolationist group that doesn’t do any outreach, advocacy, or educational work.

3. Many Americans want us banned from the country. In the battle for hearts and minds, we’re losing. Badly.”

Yes, it’s true that many in the U.S. want Muslims banned. Moghul is not wrong, but the implication here is that Muslims are to blame. It is our fault that people want to ban us. This is a disturbing victim-blaming mentality that leads to increasing more suspicion about Muslims. It is difficult not to see Moghul’s comments as a harsh accusation against the Muslim community. It reminds me of how Zakaria said that Muslims should be more “active” against extremism because it would make a more “persuasive case” against Islamophobia. I cannot say Moghul agrees with Zakaria or not, but his comments about how we are “losing” the “battle for hearts and minds” seems to suggest that Muslims have an obligation to prove to non-Muslims — mostly White non-Muslims — that we oppose extremism.

4. “We need to turn this around. We need to fight back against extremism. We need to take ownership of the problems, because it’s the only way we’re going to take ownership of the solution. If you can’t criticize yourself, you can’t better yourself. If you can’t lay out a vision of the future, you’re going to live someone else’s future.”

In addition to talking down to Muslims, Moghul reiterates that Muslims are responsible for violent extremism. There is a lot to address here when it comes to an entire community taking “ownership” of Omar Mateen’s actions. When I discussed Moghul’s article with a friend, she said, “What is it that we could have done to stop him?” She pointed out that the FBI not only investigated and questioned Mateen on two occasions, but also determined that he did not pose a security threat, probably because they saw him sharing similar politics since he worked for G4S, the largest private security firm in the world (which supports Israeli apartheid and is complicit in human rights violations around the world). Furthermore, new information has been released about how the FBI tried to entrap Mateen. Is this, too, the fault of Muslims?

Dispatching informants to spy on or entrap Muslims is nothing new. I would hope that Moghul is aware of the NYPD surveillance program that spied on Muslim communities and sent “mosque-crawlers” into our houses of worship. What does it mean to “fight back against extremism” when we already see Muslims spying on one another and/or reporting each other to the FBI? In fact, it has been revealed that a Muslim man did report Mateen to the FBI, contradicting Donald Trump’s claim that Muslims don’t report fellow Muslims. I don’t point this out to advocate continued surveillance of Muslims or having Muslims become suspicious of one another. Research has found that the impact of the NYPD spy program was traumatizing for Muslims. But when Moghul says he wants Muslims to “fight back against extremism,” what else is he looking for? Our mosques are already monitored and many Muslims, including myself, are careful and cautious about what we say at community events or social gatherings with other Muslims — to the point where we see “self-censorship and decreased involvement in community groups.” Making a criticism of U.S. imperialism, for example, could get you put on a “terrorist watch list,” if you’re not on it already for the mere fact that you exist as a Muslim.

I wrote this in my critique of Zakaria’s CNN video, but it applies to Moghul’s article as well: Does “fighting back against extremism” mean increasing the suspicion that already exists for Muslims? Does it mean permitting raids on Muslim homes like the ones that occurred in Australia? Does it mean working as an informant for the NYPD and getting paid $100,000 per assignment to take pictures, collect names, and monitor study groups of people in our community? Does it mean endorsing FBI informants who are authorized to engage in sexual relationships with Muslim women?

5. “I’m calling for the chaotic Muslim middle — too long unrepresented or underrepresented — not to stand up and speak out, but to stand up and build out. We must design, fund, sustain and expand programs that target the very people extremists are going after.”

The “chaotic Muslim middle”? Given the context of how Moghul is accusing the Muslim community of not doing enough to “fight extremism,” his characterization of us as “chaotic” is nauseating and Orientalist. Again, Moghul speaks as if the “Violent Muslim” is an inevitability. Also, as mentioned earlier, the implication is that the vast majority of Muslims are “potential terrorists.” What I found troubling about the second sentence is that Moghul talks about targeting “the very people extremists are going after.” Who these people are is never mentioned in the article. How does one determine who the extremists are targeting? What Moghul seems to be calling for sounds a lot like a counter-terrorist program within the Muslim community (because we know how effective and wonderful U.S. counter-terrorist programs are, right?). Can you imagine being a teacher at an Islamic school and being trained to view all of your students as “potential terrorists”? If a student voices a opinion that sounds “too radical,” what is to be done with that student? Again, are we to police our communities more than they are already are?

6. Imagine if we could send significant numbers of young Muslims to meet their co-religionists and offer them aid and assistance, or to meet people they’ve never been exposed to, to be taught and to teach. Imagine if we leveraged our resources and our numbers to fight hate, intolerance and extremism. Imagine if young people saw they could help their co-religionists by working with mainstream institutions.”

On the surface, I don’t have any objection to Muslims meeting and working with other Muslims in different parts of the world, but Moghul is talking about this within a framework that collectively blames Muslims for “violent extremism.” The primary objective of the programs that Moghul describes seems more concerned with catering to a Western non-Muslim gaze that desires to the see the “Good Muslim” — i.e. the Muslim who fights against other Muslims that “threaten Western civilization” — than building transnational solidarity with other Muslims and communities across the world.

I don’t believe the “counter-extremist” approach is effective. In fact, I think it leads to more profiling, surveillance, and civil rights violations against Muslims. Yes, it would be great to see more Muslim organizations that work towards building more solidarity internationally, but we also need to resist this “helping” narrative. It carries connotations of an arrogant savior complex that assumes U.S.-based Muslims “know what’s best” for people in Muslim-majority countries. What we need to focus on instead is solidarity, i.e. working with the groups and organizations that are already fighting against oppression in Muslim-majority countries. Solidarity is a better practice because it does not arrogantly assume that Muslims in other parts of the world need “saving” or don’t have a conscious for social justice.

7. “I am tired of simply saying terrorism is wrong. We should know that already. We should be known for that. I’d rather build up an alternative, a Muslim world that doesn’t just reject extremism in word, but defeats it in deed, that does more than acknowledge homophobia, and intolerance (and the many other ills we see rampant in some Muslim communities, like anti-Semitism and racism), but actively fights them.” 

It is concerning these attitudes about Muslims “not doing enough” are dangerously similar to what Donald Trump and Islamophobes say about us. That we “know” who the violent extremists are in our community and that we don’t do anything about it. As Moghul makes clear in his article, Muslims are speaking out and condemning horrible acts of violence, and yet he interprets Islamophobic hatred of us as being a result of Muslims apparently “not doing enough” against extremism. How does this not call upon non-Muslims, especially those who are racist and Islamophobic, to support more profiling, surveillance, and deportations of Muslims? How do these attitudes not depict every Muslim on the planet as a suspect who should be treated guilty until proven innocent?

In Moghul’s article, there is no mentioning of white supremacy, imperialism, heteropatriarchy, settler-colonialism, and other interlocking systems of oppression that have caused so much violence in the world. By decontextualizing the ways in which Muslims are vilified, Moghul is able to depict Muslims as being responsible for Islamophobic sentiments, rhetoric, and policies. It astonishes me that people still have to say this, but nothing happens in a vacuum. How can we talk about ISIS without also talking about the impact of U.S. imperialism, which has killed over 1 million Iraqis that we’ll probably never know the names of? How can we talk about Omar Mateen without also talking about the violent, homophobic (whether internalized or not), transphobic, and pro-gun culture that he is a product of in the United States? As Tanzila Ahmed writes: “Too often, we blame these hate-fueled attacks on the individuals who perpetrate them. We forget that there is a system of oppression in place that led them there.”

What concerns me probably the most about Moghul’s article is how it is reflective of the victim-blaming culture in which we live. I have lost count of conversations I’ve had with fellow Muslims who have said to me, “Yeah, the media is a problem, but we are also to blame for Islamophobia because we don’t do enough.” I’ve seen Muslims at my local mosque tell police officers, “Give this person a ticket” because a fellow Muslim’s car was double-parked in an over-filled parking lot for Eid-ul-Fitr. I have heard countless khutbahs in mosques telling predominately Black and Brown congregations that we must buy into a racist color-blind ideology because “there is no race in Islam” (clearly forgetting 30:22 and 49:13 in the Holy Qur’an). While these examples may seem small and trivial to some, I believe they reflect how disconnected and fragmented our communities are. We don’t just see Muslims blaming each other, but also turning on one another.

I point out the examples above to challenge the harmful framework that Moghul uses. That is, we do not need fellow Muslims — especially those who claim to speak for us on CNN or other mainstream news outlets – to scold us, talk down to us, or tell us that we are responsible for the negative and Islamophobic attitudes that people have towards us. At a time when Muslims report “decreased self-esteem and increased psychological stress” as a result of Islamophobia; when nearly 50% of Muslim youth experience some sort of bias-based bullying in high schools; and when Muslims frequently experience microaggressions, covert, and overt forms of discrimination, accusing Muslims of “letting” violent extremists speak for them does nothing to uplift our communities. It is cruel condemnation, not compassion.

I agree with Moghul that heterosexual Muslims must do more to challenge homophobia, but the “fighting back against extremism” framework only calls for increased policing and profiling of people in our community. While I don’t agree with everything Linda Sarsour says, I think her call for Muslims to be unapologetically Muslim is a message that all Muslims need to hear, especially Muslim youth. The message is important because it not only tells Muslims to be proud of who they are, not ashamed, but it also carries the potential to encourage Muslims to be pro-active against oppressive practices both within and outside their communities. Rather than implying that all Muslims carry the burden of “doing more” against violent extremism and are somehow responsible, we need to be promoting more courageous stances, as Sarsour does, in teaching Muslims to be unapologetic about their faith, and to work in solidarity with each other — as well as other marginalized communities — against the systems of oppression that seek to divide us all.

Bill Maher’s Vilification of Ahmed Mohamed and What We Need to Understand About Islamophobia

BILL-MAHER
It takes courage to go after a 14-year-old, doesn’t it?

On Friday night, Bill Maher displayed that courage by going on an angry and hateful tirade against Ahmed Mohamed, the 14-year-old Sudanese Muslim-American who was recently arrested after a teacher thought his homemade clock was a bomb. Since Maher didn’t think his bullying of the teenager was sufficient alone, he made sure he brought company in the form of Mark Cuban, Chris Matthews, and former New York Governor George Pataki to gang up on Ahmed with their relentless victim-blaming racism and Islamophobia.

All of the white male panelists agreed that Ahmed’s arrest was “wrong,” yet devoted most of their time defending the school and blaming Ahmed. This is absolutely appalling. For instance, Maher expressed that Ahmed’s clock “looks exactly like a fucking bomb,” while Mark Cuban blamed Ahmed for not “opening his mouth” and “not having a conversation with his teacher.” Pataki said the incident had nothing to do with Ahmed’s race and religion, and Matthews blamed Ahmed for not being “forthcoming.” Matthews  also whined about how people always rush to side with “the minorities.” With all of the cheering and applause that came from the audience each time someone bashed on Ahmed, Muslims, and Islam, I’m surprised I didn’t hear “U-S-A” chants.

What is atrocious about the commentary from Maher and the other white male panelists is their attempt to vilify Ahmed and depict him as “treacherous,” “deceitful,” and “conniving.” Mark Cuban spoke about his phone interview with Ahmed and mentions how he could hear Ahmed’s sister giving him the answers. I should note here that Cuban said this with a really odd and disturbing tone of enthusiasm and excitement, as if he just solved a mystery or was revealing something that would raise everyone’s suspicion about Ahmed.

“The kid is a super-smart kid, a science geek,” Cuban said. “I talked to him about science. But when I’m talking to him on the phone, as I asked him a question, ‘Tell me what happened,’ because I’m curious, right? His sister, over his shoulder, you could hear, listening to the question, giving him the answer.”

Like, can you believe that? His sister was telling him what to say! See how conniving and suspicious these Muslims are!  This is an utterly despicable and cruel attempt to depict Ahmed and his family as “untrustworthy.” What was Cuban expecting? Ahmed is 14-years-old and he was just arrested by a school that saw him as a criminal and terrorist. Cuban is going to insult Ahmed and his sister for wanting to guide him through an interview, during a time when Muslims, Black people, and other people of color are constantly demonized in media and society?

What Cuban fails and refuses to understand is that Black children, Muslim children, and other children of color are not trained in schools on how to deal with racist discrimination. That is why people of color rely on their parents, siblings, relatives, and other support systems to help them through these situations. I cannot speak for Ahmed’s sister or family, but I would not be surprised if they wanted Ahmed to be careful about what he said to the media, especially if there’s a condescending, victim-blaming racist like Cuban interviewing him.

But Cuban didn’t stop there. Watching how hyper he was to keep speaking reminded me of typical high school bullies who like to shout their insults, but then, only seconds later, are eager to chime in to spew more insults. Like, “Oh oh wait, let me say this about him too!” After Matthews made his absurd complaints about Ahmed not being “forthcoming” (which I’ll get to in a minute), Cuban jumped in, saying: “Do you know who the big winner is? Ahmed. When I talked to him, he got all the attention, right? His two hours were taken. But he told me, ‘I’ve been getting all these offers. I’m not going back to MacArthur. I’m going to pick which school I want to go to because everyone’s offering me scholarships.’ The kid came out way ahead.”

Wow.

So, Ahmed is the “big winner” here because he got all of the “attention” he was supposedly seeking? Look at all those schools offering him scholarships, Cuban says. See how using the “race card” gets Muslims and people of color ahead? See the advantages of being a racial and religious minority in the United States? Sure, you may get shot, arrested, fired, expelled, bullied, attacked in hate crimes, and so on, but look at all the attention you can get! Cuban’s comments are not too different than Richard Dawkins’ recent tweets accusing Ahmed of wanting to be arrested. Maher went further and diminished the impact of Ahmed’s arrest by saying, “We put a kid after school for a couple of hours, this is not the end of the world!” As if there is nothing potentially traumatic about being arrested in handcuffs and humiliated in your own school, not to mention being interrogated by 4 police officers who repeatedly refuse to let you notify and talk to your parents.

What is inconsistent about the attacks against Ahmed is that they obscure the truth. Ahmed told his teacher that he made a clock, not a bomb. How much more “forthcoming” did Matthews and the other white panelists want him to be? But we have seen these efforts to vilify and demonize Black youth before.  Kiera Wilmot, a Black teenager in Florida, was arrested and expelled from school in 2013 after her science project exploded by accident (no one was injured). Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown were accused of “not being saints” by the media after their murders. The message is always loud and clear whenever people of color are discriminated against or even murdered: it was their fault.

Mexican-American journalist Jorge Ramos was the only person on the panel who defended Ahmed, but was shouted at and belittled by Maher, Cuban, Matthews, and Pataki. Maher knew that getting a majority of white men on his side would not only help him bash Ahmed, Muslims, and Islam, but also that no one in the audience would cheer or applaud Ramos for his defense of a Black Muslim teen. Ramos was ridiculed to the point where he was seen as “uneducated,” “incoherent,” and “irrational.”

At one point, after Maher reiterated the arrest of Ahmed was “wrong,” he justified the arrest because “for the last 30 years, it’s been one culture that has been blowing shit up over and over again.” One culture? Who has been blowing up Gaza over and over again? Who opened fire on Black people in Charleston, South Carolina? Who massacred Sikhs in their Gurdwara in Wisconsin? Who massacred children in the Newtown school shootings or the attacks in Norway? What about the white Christian terrorist who planned to massacre a predominately Black Muslim population in the town of Islamberg, New York? Who murdered the three Arab Muslim students in Chapel Hill or the Somali Muslim teen in Kansas City? What about the U.S. bombings of Iraq, Afghanistan, as well as the drone strikes in Pakistan, Yemen, and Somalia? Which “culture” is responsible for that?

Maher says a Muslim adult should have taken Ahmed aside and told him, “Look what happened to you was wrong, but maybe one of the reasons why it happened to you is because, in our religion, we were responsible for 9/11, the Madrid bombings, the London bombings,” etc. In case if it isn’t obvious, Maher believes Muslims — all 1.5 billion of us — are collectively responsible for attacks that were carried out by other people. I want a white adult to explain to Maher that the reason his Islamophobia and racism is so dangerous to Muslims and people of color is because “our people (white people) have been responsible for so much demonization, racism, misogyny, violence, and terrorism committed against black people, indigenous peoples, Muslims, and other people of color.” In fact, his Islamophobia fuels the kind of attitudes and behaviors that impact Muslims like Ahmed Mohamed.

But Maher loves to deflect. On the show, he mentioned Ali Mohammed al-Nimr, a Shia activist who is being horribly sentenced to death by the Saudi Arabian government for participating in anti-government protests. What is repulsive about Maher mentioning al-Nimr is that he’s trying to deflect attention away from Islamophobia in the west, but also that he’s exploiting al-Nimr to make his political points about Islam being a “religion of violence.” In other words, Maher doesn’t really care about al-Nimr; he just cares about “proving” his point about how “barbaric” Islam and Muslims really are. He is also trying to create the impression that there aren’t any Muslims outraged about al-Nimr’s sentencing. Anyone who believes in a religion, especially Islam, is seen as “brainwashed” by Maher, so what does he think about Muslims like al-Nimr? That they’re “brainwashed” by their own religion?

What also needs to be emphasized here is that Maher’s statement about Ahmed’s arrest is something a lot of people believe. The narrative that Islamophobia is a result of 9/11 is one that many, both Muslims and non-Muslims, buy into. We need to denounce this narrative and understand that Islamophobia is not caused by the actions of other Muslims.

But let’s deconstruct this belief. Let’s follow the logic that Islamophobia is, in fact, a result of 9/11, the Madrid bombings, and the London bombings, as Bill Maher claims. Let’s forget that, before 9/11, there was the brutal dispossession of Palestine, western colonialism and imperialism in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa, or the demonization of Muslims and Islam in the media, including in U.S. cinema. While we’re at it, let’s forget about the Spanish Inquisition and the Crusades, too.

So, the logic goes, if a member of a particular group of people commits an act of violence, then the response from the general public and the state is to target said group with stereotypes, hate crimes, negative media depictions, and policies, right?  For example, if a Muslim person carries out an act of violence, then the entire Muslim population will be held collectively responsible, face bigotry and discrimination, and will be subject to racist policies and laws. Oh, and countries that have a Muslim-majority population will be bombed. So, this should mean that when white Christians commit violent atrocities, the entire white Christian population will suffer the same consequences too, right?

But we know the latter does not happen. We don’t see institutionalized racism against white people as a response to the crimes and actions of individual white people. This is because we live in a white supremacist society where white people, especially white men, are privileged and valued over the lives of people of color. Because white supremacy is foundational to the United States, it is deeply ingrained in society — so ingrained that we accept it as a norm. This is why anti-racist leaders, activists, and writers teach us that we all need to unlearn racism. White supremacist socialization and logic is the reason why people are able to make distinctions between white male terrorists and the rest of the white population, while not making the same distinctions for people of color. This is why politicians, the media, and the general public see Dylan Roof as a “lone wolf.” White people are not treated as a racialized group that need to be put under surveillance, racially profiled, demonized, and bombed.

The uncomfortable reality is that it’s not just Bill Maher who reinforces this idea that Islamophobia exists because of Osama bin Laden, Al-Qaeda, and ISIS. We hear this narrative from Muslim-American political commentators and representatives of U.S.-based Muslim civil rights groups, too. Granted, Maher diminishes the existence of Islamophobia and describes it as “not being a big deal,” but Muslim-Americans who claim to be speaking for us in the mainstream media need to stop saying Islamophobia is the result of 9/11 and ISIS. As I mentioned above, if this logic was true, then it would apply to white Christians, too, but we know it doesn’t.

Islamophobia is not simply about ignorance or individual acts of bigotry, but rather an institutionalized form of oppression that has existed long before 9/11. As Maher demonstrated on his show, his attacks against Ahmed are also his attacks against Islam and Muslims. Furthermore, these hateful views go beyond sentiments; they fuel hate crimes, oppressive policies, and imperialist violence against Muslims.

In order to challenge Islamophobia effectively, we need to understand it within this context of white supremacy, not by Maher’s victim-blaming “Muslims-caused-Islamophobia” definition of it.

Banana 2 Conference and Intersectionality

This is a very overdue post, but two weekends ago, I had the honor to be invited to this year’s Banana 2: Asian Pacific American Bloggers Conference in Los Angeles.  I felt very grateful to speak  on the “Uncovering the Activist in You/Social Media for Social Change” panel with Fatemeh Fakhraie (founder of “Muslimah Media Watch”), Marissa Lee (co-founder of “Racebending”), Frances Kai-Hwa Wang (of “Adventures in Multicultural Living”), Cynthia Liu (of K-12 News Network), and our moderator, Keith Kamisugi.  This was the first time I was invited to speak on a panel and I must thank Edward Hong, an activist, actor, and blogger, for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts and connect with fellow activists and bloggers.

I was overwhelmed by the amount of time and effort that went into organizing the conference.  I especially Loved how everything in the room was very social media-based (I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised because it was, after all, a bloggers conference!).  For example, draped in one corner of the room was a projector screen that showed live Twitter updates from people in attendance.   There was also a table in another corner that had laptops for people to access the internet and update their blogs and social media accounts.  Above the table was a cute speech bubble painted on the wall that read: “Blog Here!” (I actually updated my Facebook status from this blogging station after I spoke on my panel!)  In the back of the room, there was a white board where people could post up neat and witty sticky notes.   Just by reading the notes, I recognized the diverse Asian community in attendance: Japanese-Americans, Chinese-Americans, Korean-Americans, Vietnamese-Americans, Filipino-Americans,  bi-racial and multi-racial folks, etc. (sorry if I missed anyone!)

Although I was the only South Asian and Pakistani speaker at the conference, I did not feel alienated or excluded.  On the contrary, I felt very welcomed and I got the sense that people were interested in what I had to say.  One of the first panels actually discussed what it meant to be “Asian” and how South Asians, as well as West Asians, should be included.  Fatemeh and I were the only Muslim speakers and I felt like we made a significant contribution to the discussion.  Given the size of our panel on social media activism, a maximum of five minutes to speak was requested of each panelist.  It doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but I was surprised how much could share within that limit.  I was nervous at first, but after speaking with my fellow panelists, particularly Marissa Lee, who told me that this is the most encouraging audience I’ll be speaking in front of, I felt more comfortable about it!  In this blog post, I just want to share some of the things I mentioned in my talk, but also elaborate further on activist organizing.

Prior to the conference, I remember Edward outlining the panel for us and one of the questions he made us think about was, “Can an everyday person make a difference through social media?”  A number of times, I wondered why I was invited to speak at the conference.  My blog is not connected to a group, organization, or a major website.  I really just created my blog to share my experiences as a Pakistani Muslim-American and to write about issues that I feel are important.  A lot of times, in my experience, I’ve come across people who didn’t see the significance in blogging, going to a rally, protesting, signing a petition, etc.  They don’t feel like it makes a difference.  I think part of the problem is that we’re socialized to think that revolutions happen overnight and that there must be immediate results from our protesting.  When we focus on this model of activism, it’s easy for us to get discouraged.  We overlook the other significant elements that are important in our struggles, such as reaching out to people, engaging with people on a very personal and individual level.  I strive to do that on my blog, especially when I receive e-mails from readers who share their thoughts about my posts.  Making a difference one person at a time, as cliche as it sounds, is still making a difference.  It is still significant, and with those of us who have access to social media, we can use our blogs, Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube accounts to network with fellow activists.  It is about sharing knowledge, learning from each other, building and creating communities, advancing upon our movements, expressing solidarity, meeting in person (if possible), and implementing new knowledge and contributions into our social justice activism.

As in my experience, you never know who’s reading your posts.  I’ve seen my posts being re-published on many different websites, not just anti-racist blogs.  In fact, my chapter published in “Teaching Against Islamophobia,” was a result of a university professor reading my two-part online essay on Muslim women in American and Middle Eastern comic books.  I do not deny that there are limitations with social media, but it is an important tool that we can use to strengthen and further our activism.  I mentioned Egypt briefly in my talk because it does exemplify how social media can be used to coordinate rallies, but I also made it a point to say that it would be very problematic and simplistic to characterize the Egypt uprisings as a “Twitter Revolution.”  That is, people were marching in the streets, putting themselves at risk, and even giving their lives for the sake of justice.  Even when the government shut down the internet, people were still protesting.

For a lot of us in the west, social media was a great way to follow the updates in Egypt.  If I didn’t have social media, I would have been stuck with mainstream American news channels that were distorting the reality in Egypt and discussing the protests through an offensive Islamophobic and orientalist lens.  If I didn’t have social media, I wouldn’t have been able to easily choose an alternative source, particularly Al Jazeera English.  I remember speaking to some co-workers who were surprised when I told them about Egyptian Christians and Muslims holding hands, forming human chains to protect each other during prayers, and standing in solidarity with each other.  Because of their access to social media, I was able to easily share Al Jazeera English with them.

Similarly, when we use social media to network with people and other communities, we benefit by learning from each other.  One of the most important things I’ve learned about through my discussions with friends on Facebook and the blogosphere is something called intersectionality, which refers to the interconnectedness of racism, sexism, classism, ableism, homophobia, and other forms of oppression, and how they often operate simultaneously.  bell hooks stresses a lot on intersectional approaches because so many white feminists from privileged class backgrounds disregard racism, classism, and other factors that play immense roles in oppressing women.  This approach has taught that we cannot be speaking out against racism while participating in sexist oppression (and vice versa).  We can’t be condemning homophobia while we’re perpetuating Islamophobia (I’m looking at you, Dan Savage!).  We can’t be outraged by Islamophobia while making racist jokes about other communities and folks of color.  We can’t be advocating feminism while spreading racist stereotypes about women and men of color (and I would recommend reading this excellent post “Bad Romance: Feminism and Women of Colour Make an Unhappy Pair” by Sana Saeed).  We can’t fight gender discrimination while advocating racial profiling and congressional hearings on Muslims.  We can’t be standing up for Muslim rights in America while supporting orientalist wars in Muslim-majority countries, and I would further add that such a stance plays into the hands of “US-centrism,” where we believe what happens in the US is “more important” than what happens “over there.”  We need to understand the relationship between US imperialism in other countries and oppression in the US itself.

For those of you who are familiar with Andrea Smith’s work, you may recognize that my last point comes from her brilliant piece “Heteropatriarchy and the Three Pillars of White Supermacy.” A year or so ago, a good friend of mine shared Smith’s essay with me and I have to say that it remains one of the most important, thought-provoking, and valuable pieces I’ve read on people of color organizing.  Smith asserts that instead of focusing on “shared oppression” or “shared victimization,” we should understand that white supremacy affects us all in different ways and that we need to take responsibility in recognizing how our struggles often run into conflict with each other.  An example she uses is how US-born communities of color join the military “in order to advance economically out of impoverished communities.”  As a result, she adds, we “become complicit in oppressing and colonizing communities from other countries.”  Meanwhile, “all non-Native peoples are promised the ability to join in the colonial project of settling indigenous lands.”  The point in keeping us all accountable is to develop stronger alliances and more vigilant strategies in ensuring that our commitment to social justice and liberation does not oppress others (either within or outside our communities).  I believe Smith’s following example demonstrates how effective this strategy is:

“Native peoples who are organizing against the colonial and genocidal practices committed by the US government will be more effective in their struggle if they also organize against US militarism, particularly the military recruitment of indigenous peoples to support US imperial wars.  If we try to end US colonial practices at home, but support US empire by joining the military, we are strengthening the state’s ability to carry out genocidal policies against people of color here and all over the world.”

I mention this strategy because I think it really makes us focus on the rights, dignity, and care of all peoples.  Its purpose is not to discourage us or to assert any sort of political superiority.  It’s about helping us build communities and understand each other better. I know there were things about the Asian-American community that I didn’t know about prior to attending the Banana 2 conference.  I wasn’t aware that Japanese-Americans were the first community to actively speak out against the vilification of Arabs and Muslims after 9/11 (and they recently condemned the disgusting, anti-Muslim rally that protested against an Islamic charity fundraiser in Orange County).  I know there is a lot I can learn from you and I know that the same system that hurts your people is also hurting my people.  I know that when we get to know each other, learn about struggles, and build alliances, we only become stronger.  I know that when I do not stand up for you, no one will stand up for me.  When other people of color see Asians speak out against Hollywood’s whitewashing in “The Last Bender,” for example, it’s important to express solidarity and understand that this is not solely an “Asian issue.”  It’s something we should all be concerned about.

Towards the end of the conference, I was trying to articulate about something that I think I can express better on my blog. It’s about an unfortunate phenomenon called “celebrity activism,” which happens far too often.  It’s when being an “activist” becomes a “title” and social justice movements transform into another oppressive hierarchy.  This undermines everything we’re supposed to be standing for: equality, justice, dignity, and yes, Love.  There have been many times when I’ve felt discouraged by fellow activists who assert their political superiority in all sorts of manners, whether it’s because of their emphasis on “sexual liberation” (that is, if you’re not having sex, you’re seen as “backwards” and “regressive”) or their accusing you of being “too negative” and not “positive” enough.  I have seen fellow activists vehemently attack others for not being “consistent” enough in their politics.  In other words, there are “qualifications” one needs to be an “activist.”  There is a specific “way” one needs to speak and behave in order to be considered an “activist.”

On “sexual liberation,” I want to share what bell hooks writes in her book, “Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center”:

The focus on “sexual liberation” has always carried with it the assumption that the goal of such effort is to make it possible for individuals to engage in more and/or better sexual activity. Yet one aspect of sexual norms that many people find oppressive is the assumption that one ‘should’ be engaged in sexual activity. This “should” is one expression of sexual coercion.  Advocates of sexual liberation often imply that any individual who is not concerned about the quality of their experience or exercising greater sexual freedom is mentally disturbed or sexually repressed.  When primary emphasis is placed on ending sexual oppression rather than on sexual liberation, it is possible to envision a society in which it is as much an expression of sexual freedom to choose not to participate in sexual activity as it is to choose to participate.

To address my other point on “positivity” and “earning” the “activist title,” I need to ask the following question: what does it mean to be an activist?  When we say that we must have a certain mind-set, or a “smile or die” attitude about social justice, we are forgetting about the fact that there are people out there who do not have the “privilege” (I don’t like this word; can anyone suggest an alternative?) to join organizations, to go to rallies, to write blog posts, to write to elected officials, etc.  These are people who are fighting for their rights 24/7, for their basic right to be treated as human beings.  To suggest that these stories aren’t important because they’re “too negative” is exclusionary and oppressive.  Human beings have feelings, they’re allowed to feel angry, sad, and miserable about the situations they’re in.  Arrogantly denying their feelings and telling them they need to be “more positive” is counter-productive and extremely inconsiderate of the fact that racism and oppression affects us all differently.  Malcolm X was angry, does that mean he couldn’t make a difference?  We need people to share their stories and experiences.  If they can’t feel free and comfortable to speak in our movements, then where can their voices be heard?  There is a lot of hurt out there and we cannot heal if we behave like the pain doesn’t exist.

Something else that also happens with “celebrity activists” is that we give them a “pass” on any problematic things they may say.  I am not diminishing the importance of speaking in the mainstream and I mean no disrespect to the scholars, activists, authors, filmmakers, and artists who are doing amazing work (which is why I will not say their names), but there are some who, due to their status, are excused on ridiculing and even exploiting others.  In some cases, the status of these “celebrity activists,” coupled with their “physical attractiveness” is used to gloss over the errors they make in their analysis.  When we excuse problematic statements that reinforce serious stereotypes about communities just because the individual is “hot,” we are asserting the oppressive notion that “physically attractive” people deserve better treatment.  In these situations, let’s consider if these same statements were made by someone that media and society would classify as “unattractive,” would we still excuse them? (and this topic on physical attractiveness and the way we treat people is an important one and requires further anti-racist analysis).

One of the things I appreciated about my experience at Banana 2 was that I didn’t feel a hierarchy. I didn’t get the sense that some bloggers/speakers thought they were better than anyone else.  While I heard things I disagreed with, I felt that this was a receptive crowd and that if we engaged in friendly, respectful discussions, we could learn a lot from each other.  I’m grateful for the opportunity I had and I hope whatever I shared in this post (and at the conference) is found useful.  I’m confident all of us can benefit from each other and build stronger, more effective alliances and strategies that ensure the end of oppression for all peoples.

Eradicate Masculinity

Advocating for the eradication of masculinity is not reactionary, nor is it self-hatred.  It is a diligently honest and critical examination of the fundamental concept and construct of masculinity, how it is defined, particularly in mainstream North American societies, and how its normalization in daily life and culture is interrelated with homophobic, sexist, racist, classist, and oppressive social structures in white heteropatriarchal capitalist states.  Abolishing masculinity is not anti-male, nor is it about extermination of all heterosexual men.   It is a bold struggle for radical personal and societal transformation; for vigorous rejection and elimination of harmful and dangerous social norms that are interlocked with oppressive forces in society.

Speaking from the perspective of a heterosexual Pakistani Muslim-American man, there is a lot to analyze and discuss about the way I have seen masculinity, sexism, homophobia, racism, and Islamophobia function in my life and my surroundings.  It is impossible to cover the details in this post alone about how complex and intertwined these oppressive systems are, but I want to emphasize that being a man of color and a Muslim in post 9/11 white supremacist patriarchy obviously makes my experience different than white non-Muslim men and women from privileged race and class backgrounds.  Most of the literature I have read so far about masculinity centers on the experiences of non-Muslim white men, with occasional mentioning of some men of color.  Though there certainly is a lot of overlapping in the way sexist socialization influences and affects men in our society, other forms of oppression rank men, like men of color, differently on the social hierarchical ladder.

Very little has been studied about the way masculinity surfaces and operates among Muslim men who have grown up in North America.  At some point, research in this field will enable us to grasp a richer understanding of how masculinity is conceptualized and socialized for Muslims in North America, but for now, I will speak mostly from my experiences and observations.

Dominant conceptions of masculinity and manhood in North America are profoundly shaped by sexism and homophobia.  This means men are socialized by sexism and participate in sexist ideology, even passively or unknowingly.   At an early age, boys are taught to be anti-female.  For a male to behave in any manner that is generally perceived as “feminine” is to be stigmatized by others, especially male peers, because the worst insults for boys and men are designed to deprive him of his “manhood.”  If a boy or man is not aggressive, dominant, tough, athletic, unemotional, sexually aggressive in the heterosexual context, he cannot be a “real man.”  He is a “coward,” “sissy,” “pussy,” “faggot,” “gay;” a “girl,” a “homosexual.”  Inherent in these insults are the extremely sexist and homophobic ideas, stereotypes, and mores in our society. Any man who has resisted to “acting feminine” or “acting gay” has been both a participant and victim of the ruling masculine culture.

It is because masculinity teaches us to be powerful, dominant, in control, defensive, and violent – literally and metaphorically violent, as radical feminist-activist and author Robert Jensen describes it.  We cannot show our weaknesses otherwise we will not be accepted in society.  Men of color are even more pressured to assert masculinity because white supremacist culture assigns stereotypes, generalizations, and expectations to their race.  In high school, I remember my personal religious values of being a virgin and restraining from “checking girls out” were ridiculed by my white friends and peers.  The question was always, “Are you gay?” or a harsher variant of that, followed by attacks on my religion/culture being “strict” and “stupid.”  Not only did their remarks attempt to degrade my “manhood,” they also characterized my religion, culture, and race as inferior to theirs.

It surprised me a few years later when a close Muslim male friend told me he was depressed about being a virgin and that he was envious of his non-Muslim male friends who had sexual experiences.   I was surprised because, at the time, my views on Islam and pre-marital sex were very rigid and conventional, i.e. sex before marriage is “forbidden,” and, due to my lack of exposure to other Muslims during my adolescence, I never thought Muslims felt pressured or coerced into having sex, let alone wanted to have sex before marriage.  I now see these realities as complex and recognize the importance for Muslims to engage in an open and honest discussion about pre-marital sex, without dogmatic judgments and stigma.  There are Muslims who have pre-marital sex and make a personal, conscious decision to do so, but my point here is neither a condemnation of that choice or even about pre-marital sex.  In the particular case of my friend, it’s more about the social pressures he felt in losing his virginity and the belief that having sex, not an emotionally intimate relationship, would make him more “masculine” and “manly,” and possibly even serve as a catalyst to “fit in” with his non-Muslim friends.

Jensen and anti-pornography author and feminist Gail Dines boldly argue that we live in a porn culture.  Pornography and the hyper-sexualized images we see in movies, television, magazines, billboard ads, video games, etc. reminds us of our “standing” in the world as women and men.  White men represent the default human being, while women are rendered as sex objects.  The exoticization and sexual objectification of women of color operates in conjunction with racial stereotypes and prejudices, which are perpetuated by mainstream media representations.  Throughout society, this porn culture, which seats white men on the highest throne, sends a very powerful message about masculinity and how men must rule and exercise power – power that Jensen defines as “the ability to make someone do what they would otherwise not do” – not just over women, but over other men as well.   In his book, “Guyland: The Perilous World Where Boys Become Men,” Michael Kimmel describes the socialization of heterosexual men in porn culture:

“Daily life is filled with beautiful and sexual women everywhere [guys] look – in the dorm, in classes, on the street, at work.  And the Guy Code is playing an endless loop in their heads: ‘Gotta get laid, you’re not a man unless you try for it, keep going, what’s wrong with you?”

Masculinity is a dangerous game that cannot be won.  It is dangerous because it shapes and fuels the ideology of male supremacy which is so deeply connected to imperialism, capitalism, sexual violence, and other oppressions.  In addition to rape and war, there is misogyny, homophobia, dehumanization, racism, and other forms of oppression.  The recent news of 4 teenage males committing suicide in the month of September because of anti-gay bullying and bigotry also exemplifies its danger.  Masculinity cannot be won because it is something that men need to constantly prove.  It is never permanently sustained.  Feminist-activist bell hooks writes:

In patriarchal culture men are not allowed to simply be who they are and to glory in their unique identity. Their value is always determined by what they do.

I admit there are times when I struggle with this and I’m sure a lot of men can relate.  Particularly among South Asian Muslims, there are communal, religious, cultural, and family pressures to prove you are a “real man,” i.e. you have to be confident, fearless, strong, assertive, etc.  There are expectations for South Asian Muslim men to study hard and establish well-paying, respectable jobs to either preserve or boost the image and reputation of their family.  For example, parents who are doctors often want their sons to also be doctors to preserve the prestige of the family (I believe it can apply to daughters too, but my feeling is that the pressures on men are stronger in most cases). Parents who aren’t doctors and have occupations outside of STEM fields (science, technology, engineering, and math) also pressure their sons to establish careers in “respectable” fields, as if to “succeed” where the parents have “failed.”

From an Islamic perspective, Muslim men are taught that a real Muslim man provides and supports his wife and family economically.  This construction of masculinity easily establishes gender role expectations for Muslim men and women.  Muslim men are the breadwinners, while Muslim women stay at home, cook, clean, and raise the children.  I would argue that the growth of Islamophobia can also be linked with masculinity, not only in the way it has been produced by a xenophobic and racist social structure, but also in how we are expected to respond to it.  I remember reading a comment on a forum once where a Muslim reader rightfully felt that the Muslim man interviewed by the network was a poor representative of the community, but then wrongfully said, “We need a man to speak for us.”  A “man” as in a “real man,” someone who knows exactly what to say, knows how to keep his composure, who holds a degree in “debating Islamophobes” and utterly destroys any racist and xenophobic argument that is flung his way.

But it’s not only about the pressures from family, friends, and religious institutions.  Heterosexual men also believe it is necessary to assert their masculinity to impress women.  I’m sure a lot of men can relate to this.  The subject of marriage in the Muslim community always generates a lot of discussion and I think when most Muslim men contemplate marriage, they think about establishing a career, independence, and stability.  Since masculinity is something that always needs to be in operation, it drives us, men, to prove that we are capable of providing for a woman.  If we are unable to do so or struggle with doubts and uncertainties about our self-confidence, we feel like we aren’t good enough.  More precisely, we don’t feel like “real men.”

By talking about the struggles that men experience in patriarchy, it is important to understand that it is in no way greater than the oppression of women and to place the experiences on an equal plane would be irresponsible, inaccurate, and extremely counter-productive.  While it is true that Muslim men and men of color are also stigmatized and oppressed in white patriarchy, it does not excuse the responsibility we have in challenging male supremacy, male privilege, and sexism within our communities.  Briefly touching upon the struggles of men is not to belittle, trivialize, or dismiss the oppression of women, but rather to simply point out the hurt men experience as a result of patriarchy exists.   We have insecurities, we can have body-image problems, we may compete with other men or may feel intimidated by them – men who we think are better-looking, smarter, and physically stronger than us.  We feel this way because we are socialized to view everything in relation to dominance and power; we feel like we need to live up to a standard, even though that standard is about being something no human can be: perfect.  Being “tough” about it doesn’t help.  Masculinity cannot solve these issues for us because it teaches to shield, conceal, act, perform.  We need to vocalize our struggles, talk it out, and communicate.

bell hooks calls male advocates of feminism “comrades in struggle.”  She states that men, too, have a contribution to make to end sexist oppression.  Eradicating masculinity is one of many contributions that we, as men, can make to feminist struggle, a struggle that advocates for revolutionary and radical transformation in society as a whole.   I am sure someone will ask, “If you’re talking about the social construction of masculinity, then why not reform masculinity?  Why do we have to eradicate it?”  This is a valid question, but I believe once we transcend beyond the hegemonic conception of masculinity, we come to the realization that there isn’t any personal characteristic or trait that is distinctly “masculine” or “feminine.”  If to be “feminine” is to be compassionate, caring, and Loving, can a man not have those traits as well?  And if to be “masculine,” according to those who argue that there are positive things about “masculinity,” is to be protective, confident, and assertive, is that to say women cannot have those qualities?

These are all characteristics that can be found in any human being.  The label of masculinity takes these traits to another level because it is always dichotomous and in opposition to something – to being a woman, being homosexual, being anything outside the narrow and singular social construction of what it means to be a man.  This is not to say women and men are the same.  We are different physiologically and those physiological factors may contribute to some psychological differences, but these differences are not so conflicting, extreme, or insurmountable that we must close off dialogue and refuse to collaborate with one another.

A world, as Jensen describes, in which “masculinity is shaped by dominance, aggression, conquest, and violence is a world that is unsafe and unsustainable.”  We, men, shouldn’t be afraid or feel threatened to deconstruct the social norms of masculinity and eradicate the way it operates in our daily lives.   The prison of masculinity is tight and suffocating, and it alienates us from embracing our humanity.  It obstructs us from seeing the possibilities, that there is something new within ourselves, something we can create.  Rather than constantly thinking that we have to be prove something to ourselves, to others, and those we Love, let us focus on being good human beings.  Feminist struggle is not to dismiss other issues like racism, classism, Islamophobia, homophobia, and other oppressions.  It recognizes the interlocking nature of oppression and how they all affect us.

With the help of women and men, we can find a transcendent model for humanity – one that teaches us to value each other not as objects, not as labels, not as social constructions, not as expectations, but as complex, multi-dimensional human beings.

Muslim-Americans Getting It Wrong on Pakistan

In no way do I support the Pakistani court’s decision to ban its citizens from accessing Facebook and YouTube. As many of you know, restrictions were put into effect after Pakistani officials learned about an idiotic, Islamophobic event on Facebook called “Draw Muhammad Day.” As much as I strongly oppose the event and find it clearly driven by hate and ignorance, I believe the Facebook ban is not only nonsensical and counterproductive, but also an insult to the Pakistani people, implying that millions of citizens would flock to the group and participate if the site is not prohibited. Without a doubt, the blockade of Facebook and YouTube represents the government’s religious insecurity and mistrust of its own people.

However, what puzzles me further is how Muslim-Americans, especially those of Pakistani descent, resort to simplified generalizations and misrepresentations of Paksitan and its citizens. I do not know Arsalan Iftikhar personally, but I have always respected his efforts to speak out against Islamophobia and distortions of Muslim-Americans. Whether on CNN or Fox News and talking to right-wing bullies like Bill O’Reilly, Mr. Iftikhar’s work certainly calls for respect and appreciation.

But I must challenge the comments he made about Pakistan in his latest piece on the CNN opinion page. Mr. Iftikhar paints a harsh picture of Pakistan in the very first sentence:

For a country that has produced five military dictators in 60 years, mourned the 2007 assassination of former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, and struggles continually against its own militant extremists who have killed thousands in their own nation, Pakistan has absolutely picked the wrong fight by banning Facebook and YouTube because of an idiotic virtual campaign called “Everybody Draw Mohammed Day.”

Mr. Iftikhar went further to argue that the country did not live up to its name, pointing out that the word “Pakistan” means “Land of the Pure” when translated from Urdu. “There has been nothing pure,” he writes, “about the downward sociopolitical spiral of this nuclear-armed, Third World fledgling democracy of 172 million people over the last several years.” He cites former US ambassador to Pakistan, Wendy Chamberlin, who describes the region as terrorized by extremists. Mr. Iftikhar closes with the following:

Instead of conjuring up stupid controversies like the recent bans of Facebook and YouTube because of some silly drawings, the 172 million citizens of Pakistan should focus their political attention and economic resources on educating their women, improving their rule of law system and truly understanding the repercussions that come with ominously naming your country the “land of the pure.”

I will not dispute the social, political, and economic struggles that confront Pakistan. Indeed, they are real. However, what surprises and appalls me is that there is not a single mentioning of the U.S. intervening, exploiting, and attacking Pakistan. Mr. Iftikhar’s article is titled “Pakistan should ban extremism, not Facebook,” but he does not address the root of the extremism. He only touches upon the symptoms of a larger problem. Yes, Pakistan has an unfortunate history of military dictators and while it is important to hold those leaders accountable for their criminal actions, it is also crucial to acknowledge that the US largely supported and funded those dictatorships.

When the United States was hell-bent on fighting Communism, the government subsidized General Zia ul-Haq, Pakistan’s most ruthless military dictator, who was trained in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and later stationed in Jordan to train soldiers during the Black September operations, which resulted in thousands of Palestinian deaths and causalities. The US-Pakistan alliance monetarily and militarily aided the Mujahedeen resistance movement in Afghanistan against Soviet invasion. Not only were extremists and militant groups supplied with US weapons and trained by the CIA, but the jihadi manuals were also printed in Nebraska.

I have repeatedly pointed this out in previous posts, but after September 11th, then President Pervez Musharraf was given an ultimatum from George W. Bush: “You’re either with us or against us.” Pakistani British author Tariq Ali has also emphasized on this next point: former US deputy secretary of state Richard Armitage threatened to “blow Pakistan back to the stone age.” Pakistan’s cooperation with the US, as well as fighting in the North Western Frontier Province (NWFP) has resulted in violent antagonism towards Pakistan from tribal groups, militants and extremists.

In other words, the war in Afghanistan is spilling into Pakistan. The invading Taliban groups view the Pakistani government as complicit with US war crimes, not just in Afghanistan, but in Iraq and Palestine as well. This has resulted in devastating attacks on Pakistan, which has caused so much suffering on the Pakistani people themselves – Sufi shrines being destroyed in Peshawar, the bombing of girl’s schools, sporadic bombings in Peshawar, Lahore and other parts of the country, etc.

President Obama, who frequently criticized the US for supporting Musharraf during the presidential campaign, is not only financially backing President Asif Zardari – a man who is reviled by the majority of Pakistanis – but also escalating troops in Afghanistan and carrying out deadly drone operations in Pakistani tribal areas. In fact, it was reported by Pakistan’s Dawn Media Group that over 700 civilians were killed by drone attacks since Obama took office in 2009. According to PressTV, an estimated 300 people (and counting) have been killed in 42 drone attacks in 2010. Not to state the obvious, but that is a lot of people! Zardari and Hamid Karzai of neighboring Afghanistan both welcome Obama’s policies in advancing the Afghan war and continuing the drone attacks, respectively.

Yet it seems that President Obama receives little to no criticism from Muslim-Americans, specifically those who are in Washington or work in civil rights organizations. I often hear peculiar arguments that seek to justify his policies. There are those who even question the number of casualties from the drone attacks (to which author and activist Jeremy Scahill has refuted). Others have argued that leaflets were sent to those areas, so all of the Pakistani civilians should just leave. Funny, because I never heard such excuses when Israel bombed Lebanon in 2006 or Gaza in December-January of 2008-2009.

The reality is that human rights violations still occur under Obama’s administration – in Iraq, in Palestine, in Afghanistan, and in Pakistan. In February, US soldiers raided an Afghan home and killed three innocent women – two of whom were pregnant – and then tried to hide the evidence by digging the bullets out of the dead bodies. Earlier this month, 20 people were killed in another drone attack in Pakistan. With such injustice, how does one expect there to be no violent backlash or retaliation at all? Do people easily forget the murders of their Loved ones?

It would be inaccurate to say extremism and corruption does not exist among certain Pakistani religious leaders and politicians, but excluding US attacks and military operations in the region would be just as misguided. As Tariq Ali has stated in several of his talks, the US presence in Afghanistan is not the solution, it is part of the problem and it is having a disastrous impact on Pakistan. Drone assaults on tribal areas only generates a culture of revenge, intensifies the violence, and endangers the lives of Pakistanis, as well as Americans (see: Time Square).

Extremism does not manifest out of thin air. Ignoring the US as a key factor is a misrepresentation of facts and simplifies the radicalization of extremists and militant groups (similar to how Bush advocates used to say, “They hate us because we’re free”).

Not all of the 172 million Pakistani citizens support the ban on Facebook and YouTube. I would argue that the vast majority of Pakistanis object to it – and I base this on the nation-wide demonstrations that helped reinstate the chief justice Iftikhar Chaudhary, as well as the gathering of over one hundred thousand people who observed the 250th anniversary of the divinely inspired 17th century Sufi poet, Bulleh Shah. Though I doubt Mr. Iftikhar was implying that 172 million Pakistanis weren’t doing anything about educating women and improving their ruling systems, I think it was unfair that he didn’t mention their efforts.

As for Pakistan not living up to its name, “Land of the Pure,” I cannot really disagree with Arsalan Iftikhar. However, I must ask: which country is, if any? Which country in the world is the shining example of justice and liberty for all? Sure, there is enough to criticize about the “Land of the Pure,” but let’s not dismiss the facts, the US-Pakistan relationships, the dynamics of power, and the deadly repercussions of military intervention and exploitation.

And surely, that turns our attention to the problems we have here in the “Land of the Free.”