Centering the Conversation Around You
“I don’t know what it’s like being Black in this country”
You as a Muslim can tell another Muslim confidently.
“However, I do know what it’s like being a practicing Muslim,
in America, therefore I understand your struggles and burdens.”
The first thing that Muslims see when they look at me,
is the fact that I am a woman and that I am a hijabi.
My race isn’t ever singled out, nor do they make negative assumptions
about me based on my race; but for others, there’s a different discussion.
We tend to ignore the racism and anti-blackness that exits
within the Muslim community, and how it is not just limited
to segregated Masajid in cities, but also ignorance and stereotypes as well.
It’s more upsetting when we as Muslims are able to tell
that we discriminate against the Black community,
but choose to ignore it despite having the opportunity
of following a religion that debunked racial superiority,
in the name of having good character, action and piety.
In America we as Muslims know what it’s like to be ostracized
because of how our beliefs are seen as “outdated” and “uncivilized”,
yet we continue to do the same within our own communities and Masajid,
even though this is something Islam has never and will never permit.
We tend to assume that some Muslims have less knowledge in Islam
than us even though we haven’t exchanged a word to them.
We assume that just because we have struggled as people of color,
that it is impossible for African American individuals to suffer,
far more than us, as if we’ve been at the bottom
of the racial and social hierarchies,
not just for the time being in America, but also for the past four centuries,
and as if we deal with hostility and stricter surveillance from the police.
Funny how the hatred either stays the same or tends to increase
when Muslims of other backgrounds bring these things into focus.
The anti-blackness here is honestly not too hard to notice.
When I say “Black lives matter” why are some Muslims so quick to say
“all lives matter,” as if saying the word “Black” will take away
from your life as a non-black individual.
And as always, the response is quite typical,
“Allah created us as equals, how can you put your life over another?”
Or something along the lines of “Each and every life shall matter.”
It’s as if the people that play into the stereotypes and racism
are the same ones that refuse to acknowledge their political neutralism.
You have experienced what it’s like being Muslim in this country,
but you will never experience what it’s like being black simultaneously.
A country that has served as a place for opportunity
is a place that has not done the same historically,
for all lives, yet you still question why we fight for Black lives?
The lack of respect and inclusion of all races derives
from some Muslims downright refusing to be at the frontlines
of the Black lives matter movement, which has been making recent headlines.
But on the other hand, Muslims in American are quick to stand in solidarity
with Muslims in the South and Middle East and will do so with sincerity.
It’s hypocritical to be there for one part of this Ummah but not the other.
It’s unfair to support one sister and brother, and silence the problems of another.
It’s wrong to believe that you have the same experiences as another Muslim
just because you share the same faith and attend the same masjid as them.
It’s self-centered to invalidate the pain that black individuals feel in America
just because you go through some degree of islamophobia or xenophobia.
It’s hateful to center the conversation around you and your struggles as a Muslim
when your family migrated here with everything, while others had to start from the bottom.
For us Muslims, as important as it is to cherish and love what we share as a similarity,
we must also acknowledge our differences in pain, hurt, trauma, to the best of our ability.
By Sarah Faysal
