Photo of a rally against the "Ground Zero Mosque". (Flickr/asterix611)

The Question: Is Islamophobia a good thing for Muslims?

The Answer: “yes-no”

Every coin has two faces, every spectrum two ends, and every argument two sides. This lingering question is no different.

Islamophobia quite literally (and linguistically) is a fear of Islam and Muslims; albeit, an intense, irrational fear of Islam and Muslims. Some Muslims hold that Islamophobia is a good thing. Why? How could fear of Islam benefit Islam?

People tend to naturally fear what they do not know, so to overcome that fear they have to face it, explore it, learn more about it––in this case, people that fear Islam have to explore Islam, but why should they?

Because as natural as it is to have fear, it’s just as natural, if not more, to want to overcome it. No one wants to be scared of anything, and that desire can inspire a person to learn about his/her fear so that he/she can address it. This could explain why at the height of Islamophobia post 9/11, people continued to convert to Islam after learning more about this faith.

Going back to fear, some Muslims also believe that Islamophobia provides a ‘psychological venue’ or, more simply, an opportunity to speak to and inform people about our faith. Why?

Because when you’re scared of spiders, you’re just that: scared of spiders. You’re not afraid of talking about spiders or taking a zoology class that covers arachnids. In fact, you may be (for some odd reason) more inclined to jump in on conversations about spiders, when they come up.

Similarly, Islamophobes are willing to talk, argue, or learn about Islam when given the opportunity. And that willingness gives Muslims an opportunity to explain, clarify and teach our faith.

Other Muslims don’t really see it as a good thing because they believe Islamophobia as we know it today is no longer “Islamophobia”. It is no longer just a fear of Islam, it has become a loathing of it. And the masses, for the most part, have been manipulated, their fear turned to hate by a small, powerful group with an evil agenda (but let’s not delve into that).

Human nature does allow for fear, but it’s human weakness that allows fear to morph into hate. Islamophobia as a fear of Islam may very well be a good thing, but Islamophobia as a hatred of Islam, not so much.

As for those people that are still true Islamphobes (only fearful but not hateful), they may still be inclined to learn about Islam. Under normal circumstances that’s not a bad thing at all, but once you throw Google into the mix, it certainly can be. Virtually everyone that may want to learn about Islam at some point consults Sheikh Google, and this “Sheikh,” for someone that doesn’t know any better, really does suck.

There are numerous anti-Muslim sites on the web and that’s a definite no-no for someone who doesn’t know much about our deen. And of the few legitimate sites on the web, only a few are completely reliable and accurate.

Islamophobia is a good thing. It has the potential to encourage people to explore Islam for themselves and it has the potential to encourage Muslims to do a better job in demonstrating the true essence of their faith.

Islamophobia is a bad thing. It has the potential to cultivate aggressive hate, and it has the potential to lead people to despicable, fallacious, crooked websites that misrepresent the religion to a degree unheard of.

As a Muslim, I like to think of the glass as half-full, not half-empty. So, Islamophobia to me is favorable but that doesn’t mean I refuse to acknowledge it’s capacity to be unfavorable.

If anything, it should be a wake-up call for us, to address the concerns people have about Islam before they become haters and before they start hitting up the wrong sources that may continue to mislead them.

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Salmon Hossein on his first visit to Afghanistan earlier this year.

Al-Talib interviews Salmon Hossein on his experience growing up as an Afghan American post 9/11. Hossein is a recent UCLA graduate who is now pursuing a Masters of Public Policy at Harvard University.

A-T: Describe that day in 2001. What was it like, what do you remember?

Hossein: I remember, just that summer we had moved from Northern California where I was born and raised my entire life to Southern California.

That morning I happened to wake up a little earlier, and I’m sitting down in front of the TV and there’s smoke billowing from one of the Twin Towers so I’m like “Mom! Mom! Come look at this!” So while we’re watching the broadcast and while I’m eating my breakfast, the second plane hits and that’s when we knew like ok, something serious is happening here. I just remember that morning so vividly.

A-T: How do you think it impacted you growing up?

Hossein: In terms of national history, it’s probably one of, if not the most important thing that happened to me, more than the war in Afghanistan, because I was ridiculed a lot when I went to school.

It was my second day at school and the kids barely knew me to begin with. And on top of that, I happened to be an Afghan-American. So they kept calling me “Afghanistan” to a point where I didn’t think they even knew my name.

It affected me on multiple fronts because I was Muslim, and Islam was being attacked. I was Afghan, and Afghanistan was the first country that was invaded. And lastly, my last name is Hossein. So as if being Muslim and Afghan wasn’t enough, I happen to have the same last name as Iraq’s dictator. I was like the living, walking, talking Axis of Evil in one.

And it really hurt me because I didn’t know how to respond to it, I was only in 8^th grade. I went through an identity crisis. I would actually try reasoning with them “I was born and raised in California, I don’t know any of them” or “that’s not what I believe. If I believed any of it I wouldn’t be living here.”

Soon enough I realized these people weren’t listening and they were just making more fun of me. And that’s when I started to develop a sense of humor and try to mentally take what they say lightly. It almost changed my personality. Before that I was this geeky nerd and after that I realized I could use humor and personal relationships with people.

A-T: How about today, do you think 9/11 influenced your interaction with non-Muslims?

Hossein: Today I think I’m very aware of my interactions with non-Muslims, especially if they know my faith. If I’m one of the only Muslims they know, I have to put on a good show and represent Islam to them. Not put on a show as in be fake, but if I’m this temperamental, angry guy, I fit into the media stereotypes that are hammered into them every day.

But if I’m this guy that’s working for social justice, devoting my life to public service, or I’m friendly with them, then I hope that they’ll take away that not all Muslims are like this, in fact, most are like Salmon.

A-T: What about your identity? How was that impacted?

Hossein: At first, I was so typecast as “the other,” “the minority,” “the Muslim,” that I fell prey to it, that when people asked me what I am I would say that I’m Afghan. But that changed over time because I realized that no, I’m American. I was born in California, raised in California, went to school in California, lived 23 years of my life in California and only this year did I spend five months in Afghanistan. So I’m as Californian and as American as the person next to me. That’s something I hadn’t come to terms with until recently.

A-T: You want to dedicate your life to fighting poverty and other social issues. Given the conflicts going on in Afghanistan even before 9/11, what led you to this path?

Hossein: Before 9/11 I cared a lot about Afghanistan because I had learned so much about what my parents had gone through for me to be in America today and how one small change in their escape story could have either meant death for them or them not ending up in America. And if they didn’t end up in America they wouldn’t have met each other and my sister and I wouldn’t be here today.

So because I understood how privileged we were I cared a lot about Afghanistan and the issue of poverty around the world.

But 9/11 made me look into the political and societal ramifications of being a Muslim. Before that, it was a very private faith for me. It was something we did in our family, behind closed doors amongst relatives and friends. It wasn’t something that I needed to talk about. But after 9/11 I realized I have to justify my faith and justify my beliefs. I had to defend it against people who were ignorant.

So it did influence me. Because of that bigotry, because my patriotism was questioned, my faith was demonized, the very freedoms, honor and respect that my family sought in the United States was no longer being afforded to them, I wanted to enter law, policy and government and put an end to that. Because I believe that what America stands for, its truest ideals are in conjunction with the Islamic faith because both preach and promote freedom, justice, and liberty for all, and the pursuit of happiness and equality for everybody.

A-T: Tell me a little bit about your reaction right after September 11th.

O’Neill: I was really scared. I was nine years old and I remember, my dad works for a company, and they were on lockdown. And so, it was really scary to think that I might never see my dad again, or those were just the thoughts that were going through my head. I remember seeing everyone in panic, they were talking about where it might get hit next, and so it was kind of like everywhere, scary. I just remember seeing it on T.V. and not knowing what to think.

A-T: When you figured out the attackers were Muslim, how did you start reacting to Muslims?

O’Neill: Well, it was interesting, because before the attack I didn’t really know about Muslims at all. The community I grew up, I wasn’t really exposed to that. It was mostly Latinos, Whites, Asians and Blacks. That was it. So, I became more educated about them [Muslims] and I learned. I saw all the negative sentiments towards them around me, but I’m the type of person who doesn’t judge people or not like them. So I learned more about the culture, and when I came to UCLA I met a lot of different Muslim people, from different countries. It was really cool. I got to hear their stories and the things they’ve gone through.

A-T: In your own community, did you ever see negative sentiment?

O’Neill: Well, in my parents’ community there aren’t really Muslims there, and people more or less just talked about the event. They would talk about the figures pinned on it, like Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. They would talk about those things, but they wouldn’t say, “Oh, all Muslims are blank,” or that it was their fault. It was more the leaders themselves that they disagreed with and were mad at.

A-T: How do you feel after 10 years since 9/11?

O’Neill:  I can’t believe it’s been ten years. I have such a fresh memory of it. I see it as a part of history, just like any other event. The one good thing that I think came from it was a feeling of the country coming together, and least in the first part, right after it happened. You would see on T.V. people praying together and I felt a sense of unity within the country. I see it as an obstacle that happened, and we had to go over.

A-T: Is there anything else you would like to say?

O’Neill: For people that do have negative sentiments towards Muslims because of that incident, I hope that they would become more educated and really get to know people from those cultures and not be ignorant, stereotype, and hate them for something they didn’t do. We’ll never know the full answers of everything, but people need to move on and not cause dissensions.

Al-Talib interviews Kelsey Paxton, a second year Psychobiology major at UCLA, about her experience living in post 9/11 America. Although she is not Muslim, she feels the need to defend Muslims and encourages others to be more accepting and understanding towards people of all faiths and backgrounds.

A-T: Did you feel the effects of 9/11 right away?

Paxton: At first, no. I was shocked, I didn’t believe it was happening. As I watched, and we saw the street view of the people crying, I felt the effect. I have a family of people who served in the military, served the country working as police officers and firefighters. My father was in the military so my family is very prideful for this country. We have this love for the country, even though it has things that it needs to work on. It was very disheartening because not only was this happening to your country all of a sudden, these are your fellow American citizens, even though you may not know them, you automatically feel sad for them.

A-T: Did you start seeing changes in your environment?

Paxton: I did. People are more kind where I come from compared to Los Angeles. Everyone was even more kind to each other, trying to help people. The community came together and tried to help people. We put care packages together for the firefighters. We saw more patriotism in my town, flags, people wearing American colors. It united my community.

A-T: You’re not Muslim?

Paxton: No, I’m not.

A-T: So when did you learn the attackers were Muslim and how did you react to that?

Paxton: I actually found out that same day because my dad likes to analyze everything. I asked him who did it, and he said it was a terrorist group, and they’re Muslims. You saw people throughout my community talk about Muslims like they were bad people. My parents raised me to always defend myself and others who can’t defend themselves. So I said,” just because this person is Muslim doesn’t mean you should talk about them”. I would go home to my mom and my dad, and although I was young, I wasn’t super young, and I would say to them, “People are saying that all Muslims are part of this terrorist group.” I remember my parents sitting down and they said that it’s not true, because it’s like saying that all white people are a certain kind of way.

My dad said, “These particular Muslims are radical, they’re terrorists. Not every Muslim in this country is like that. So you need not to judge people when you first look at them, because you don’t know.” My parents told me that at times when people go into airports and see Muslims, they may get frightened or scared, because they don’t know and terrorist attacks are happening through the airport system. They said it’s only natural but you can’t turn around to that person who is Muslim, or someone who looks of Middle Eastern decent and accuse them of being a terrorist. Just like you can’t accuse someone who looks like you of being a Nazi.

A-T: What do you look like Kelsey?

Paxton: Blond hair, blue eyed, white person. And so, I really took that to heart. My parents raised my to be open minded and understanding towards others of different religions and cultures. They always taught me, you don’t judge other people. That’s not your place, that’s God’s place.

I wasn’t afraid of Muslim people, I always felt bad for them. Even if people wouldn’t outright call them terrorists, they would still make derogatory jokes about them. Some people would say they didn’t really care if they made those jokes, but you could see that others really took it to heart.

I actually have a close friend who’s from the Middle East. She would be upset a lot of the time because she would say, “Just because you’re from there doesn’t mean that you’re automatically a terrorist.”

Many are kept to this one-minded track and I always try to talk to people about it. I say, “Look. what if I came up to you and said, ‘Because you’re Mexican you must mow my lawn.’ You would not like that, would you? So why are you saying that about people who are Muslim?” I always try to play Devil’s advocate and make people look at things in different ways.

Photo: Flickr/ buddawiggi

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Al-Talib interviews Kutibh Chihabi, a fourth year Neuroscience major at UCLA, on his experience growing up as a Muslim and Arab American.

A-T : After 9/11, did you start seeing changes in either the Muslim community or the Non-Muslim community? Did you notice that people are friendlier or more to themselves?

Chihabi : I remember that my 6^th grade teacher was very political person, always talking about the Middle East and always like talking about the US search for oil. He was probably one of those people who didn’t really like Arabs, sometimes saying really derogatory things. He would encourage us to watch the news every night and educate ourselves about current events. I still remember my best friend’s mom was actually supporting my mom, making sure to make clear to others that there was nothing wrong with our being Muslim.

With regards to the Muslim community, I remember going to the Mission Viejo Masjid [Mosque] Sunday program, but a lot of people dropped out, including myself. The Muslims were disassociating with it. With regards to the Non-Muslim community, I remember there was a lot of pride, so everyone was buying flags here and there. I think the country came together very quickly and the people bonded much more.

A-T: Do you think that has affected your own life?

Chihabi: It definitely has because for a while we had stopped seeing our friends that we would normally see because we would always go to the same events with the Muslim community. At the same time, I felt more sheltered from the Muslim community but I wasn’t necessarily unaware of things. When I started to learn more about Islam during my freshmen year of college, I remembered a lot of things that I had learned a long time ago, but I felt like there was a disconnect, something changed.

A-T: Did you feel the negative ramifications on Muslims?

Chihabi: Definitely, there was a lot of stereotyping going on. People didn’t necessarily go out of their way to say things to me, but they would make it a habit to let me know that they don’t like me. I remember this random kid in 7^th grade who suddenly started cursing at Muslims for no apparent reason. I know that Muslims were harassed more in different areas and places, but I definitely experienced a detachment from the community on campus as well.

A-T: Did it ever make you not want to be Muslim or Arab? Did it make you ashamed at all?

Chihabi: No, not really. I’ve always been that stubborn guy, in fact if anything it has made me more proud.

A-T: How do you think 9/11 changed things for our generation?

Chihabi: In terms of the general society, I think there are a lot of people wondering just out of curiosity why any religion would preach such things, which is very interesting because if you look at the statistics, we had a sharp rise in the number of converts to Islam after 9/11. This doesn’t make sense only if you assume that the extremists acted truly under their faith, which they did not. So people started researching the religion themselves and the rest is statistics. In terms of the Muslim community, it had a lot of negative impact at first, but now we are starting to re-assimilate into society and keeping less to ourselves. There had been a time where people were just afraid to associate with MSA (Muslim Student Association) on campus, but we now see that people are coming back.

(Update: Portions of the interview relating to the interviewee’s family were removed after the interviewee expressed concern over his family’s privacy.)

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Al-Talib interviews Bayan Abusneineh, a third year Political Science major at UCLA, about how she and her family dealt with their Muslim and Arab identity in the US after 9/11.

A-T: Tell me where you were when the attacks first happened.

Abusneineh: It was about 6 o’clock and I was getting ready for school. I went over to the family room so I could go to the kitchen and eat, and I saw my mom standing there with the remote and this look that, “Oh crap, something happened.” She called, “Bayan, come see this, come see this!” She called my brother, my dad was at work so he wasn’t there, and we were all just looking. It was really interesting because we were looking at the first plane crash when the second plane actually hit. I was really upset. We all went to school, and we were watching the news the entire day at school. We were only in fifth grade but we understood that something really bad happened to our country and it affected a lot of people. Many people were even crying in class.

A-T: When did you figure out the attackers were Muslim?

Abusneineh: I remember my mom stating something in the beginning, like, “Oh shoot, we’re going to get blamed for this.” I didn’t understand what that meant. I had trouble with this one boy from the year before, and he used to come up to me and make fun of me for being Arab all the time. He came up to me when I was crying that day and asked me, “Why are you crying? It was probably your uncle who did this…” After 9/11 his insults became a lot worse, and he used to really bother me. I actually got into my first fight with that individual that year because of this.

A-T: Did you start to feel the effects on the Muslim and Arab community right away?

Abusneineh: I did because of my family members. My immediate family, we don’t look Muslim but people know we’re Arab. Some of our neighbors stopped talking to us at first. My cousins did wear the headscarf. One of them was walking home from school at one point and some guy swerved to almost hit her, and she had to run up to the concrete. He almost hit her, and he started yelling at her, “You terrorist, go back to your country.” My cousins were new to the country. It was at the time they were moving here that all this happened.

A-T: Do you feel like the attacks changed your family?

Abusneineh: I did. I noticed my own mother or my father become a lot more paranoid. I remember they wouldn’t be openly praying outside anymore. We tried to keep it quiet  that we had Arab roots in Palestine, we would just say that we’re from the Middle East. Our word choices changed and things like that.

A-T: Did you notice that it changed peoples’ religiosity levels?

Abusneineh: Definitely, especially within my own family. I think we started becoming more secular. We started shying away from people that were Muslim, we stopped hanging out with hijabis (women who wear the headscarf) as much, we wouldn’t go to the mosque as often, things like that. We were just really paranoid. I think it escalated after we took a trip to Jordan in 2002. Arabs and Muslims had problems in the airport and we especially noticed it. We don’t wear the headscarf or anything, but our last name says it all. We were “randomly” searched, we were put to the side, we had to open our arms and they patted us down forever.  We were scared we were going to miss our flight because they searched us for a really long time. That’s when I noticed there was a problem with me being Muslim or Arab in this country.

A-T: Is there anything else you’d like to say?

Abusneineh: Muslims and Arabs are still targets till today, not as bad as before, but I’ve seen a lot of Muslims become secular because of fear of the United States. It’s even had an effect on me and my family. It would be very difficult for me, even if I wanted to, to put the headscarf on because that’s part of it. My own mother says, “I’m from the Middle East,” instead of saying, “I’m Palestinian,” “I’m Jordanian,” or “I’m Muslim.” It’s taking a toll on our identity and I think that’s something we should never, ever have to compromise and be afraid of, ever.

Photo: Flickr/ Usman Ahmed

10th Anniversary of 9/11 Series: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV |

XVI | XVII | XVIII

I sat in the hard cushions of the school bus trying to keep awake as our bus drove to school. “Quiet down…there’s been attack!” exclaimed the bus driver as she turned up the volume on the radio.  At nine years old, I didn’t think too much of it at that moment – what were the twin towers anyway?

Prior to 9/11, my family lived a pretty non-political life. My parents were Reagan-lovers in a fitting environment: perhaps all of the 600 homes in our equestrian-styled community were staunch supporters of the establishment, self-proclaimed flag-waving patriots.

Before I got onto the bus, labels such as “Afghan” or even “Muslim” did not prompt many responses except for confused faces or fake gestures from people who pretended they knew what “Afghan” meant. When my sister was a young girl, she was playing outside when suddenly one of neighbors ran up to her and asked “IS THIS YOU?!” pointing to the recently-published National Geographic which featured the famous portrait of the Afghan girl with piercing eyes. To their credit, my sister does have blue eyes.

To summarize, no one really knew much about Afghans or even Muslims.

But when I got off the bus, I entered a post-9/11 world where the words Muslim and Afghan became labels which prompted curiosity or even fear.  I entered class that day – a substitute.

“There was an attack on our country today. They flew planes into our buildings. We aren’t sure who did it yet.”

“I heard they were Muslims” said one student.

“Do we have any Muslims in the class?” the teacher asked. I raised my hand and was asked to explain my beliefs.

I became a spokesman for 1.4 billion people in my class, in my school. The way I would act, dress, behave all reflected the Muslims.

“Are you Afghanistan?” asked one of my classmates a few days later.

“Your name means terrorist” remarked one girl on the school bus.

The ensuing years didn’t come by easy although I had a few breaks here and there. One of my 5^th grade teachers expressed sympathy when I told her when she asked where my parents were from.

“They’re from Kandahar in Afghanistan”

“I’m so sorry, yesterday on the news I heard they started bombing Kandahar. It must be very hard.”

In sixth grade, I moved to a new school where the racist comments came regularly.

The most challenging experience was having to listen to all of the fear-mongering rhetoric from the media that permeated the education system. I felt that it was my responsibility to counter these claims. When I was 11, I argued with my class (including my teacher) that it would be wrong to invade Iraq claiming that there were no weapons of mass destruction.

Although obvious today, at the time this was tantamount to arguing that the world was flat. “Even if Saddam does have weapons of mass destruction, it’s only because we sold it to him” I remember citing the unfortunate historical fact that the U.S. sold chemical weapons to Saddam which would later be used to gas the Kurds and Iranians during the Iraq-Iran War.

“Where is the proof that we sold to him the WMDs?” asked the teacher

“The proof is that we have the receipts!”

My 8^th grade history teacher became my next opponent. I kept my copy of Lies My Teacher Told Me on my desk for easy reference.

After her, followed my 9^th grade biology teacher. After him, followed my 10^th grade history teacher who had great sympathy for Afghans, even making The Kite Runner a required reading in her class. But even she promoted fear-mongering and propaganda to which I frequently objected to in class.

Then came my first class as an official college student in which a student claimed in my women’s study class that the reason why there are few female CEOs in the U.S. is because “corporations have to deal with Muslim countries and Muslims don’t do business with women and do not respect them.”

By the time I transferred to UCLA, I had enough experience to retort confidently to the never ending stream of anti-Muslim and Islamophobic rhetoric which was often used to justify an egregious foreign policy.

Many great Muslim figures were mocked, belittled, and trivialized. Do we not find time and time again in the Qur’an that many Prophets were ridiculed and ostracized? They were accused of being under the influence of magic or simply crazy. Despite this, the Prophets when responding to these people were calm, rational, and patient.

It would be arrogant to claim that I experienced even half of such great figures. But there is something unique about undergoing a small taste of the tests that were given to some of our greatest role models.

Despite these difficult 10 years, I will not let this Islamophobia define the legacy of the tragedy of 9/11. I will wear black on this day and will remember the brave men and women who heroically sacrificed their lives to rescue their fellow Americans regardless of their backgrounds.

XVI | XVII | XVIII

Al-Talib interviews Asma’a Ayesh, a third year business student at Washington State University-Pullman, about how it was like growing up Muslim in the US. Ayesh shares her encounters with hate and ignorance from other Americans and hopes they see that she is an American like them.

A-T:  Where you were when the attacks first happened?

Ayesh: I was in fifth grade and I was still sleeping. I think it was 7 in the morning. I woke up and my entire family, even my cousins, were at our house watching the news. I went to school and everybody was talking about it.

A-T: Did you feel the effects of September 11th right away?

Ayesh: Yeah, I have family that lived in the East Coast so it was scary. Just hearing all the kids talking… there was this one kid at school, who was telling us his mom was in New York at the time, had a breakdown at school and was crying.

A-T: Can you tell about how your family was on the East Coast?

Ayesh: It was difficult for them, because they wear hijab and stuff. People were always making rude comments and it was really hard on them. We were getting that all the way in Washington, it was worse over there and it was scary. They wouldn’t go out alone anymore at night, it was hard for them.

A-T: Did you feel the effects right away?

Ayesh: Yeah, there was this kid in my class who was mad at me during recess and he told me my family was the one that did the bombings. I was 11 years old at the time and I didn’t know how to respond to that.

A-T: Did you notice if 9/11 changed your family at all?

Ayesh: Nothing changed, there was just worry that somebody would bother us because we wore hijab. One time my friends and I passed by a couple of guys sitting at a café in the mall, and one of the guys called us ” you f***ing terrorists.” We were so shocked that anybody would say that to us. We were just a bunch of little girls, we had nothing to do with it [9/11 attacks]. My friend, Haifa, she went up to him, and started talking to him and telling him about Islam, the meaning of Islam. That we had nothing to do with the attacks, and that he shouldn’t judge an entire nation of people because of the acts of one man. He just apologized and that was it. Just a few comments here and there.

A-T: Did you notice changes in Muslims’ religiosity? Maybe people became secular, less practicing, stopped going to the mosque, started taking off their hijab, anything like that?

Ayesh: I was still little, so I didn’t really notice those things. I kept wearing hijab: I wore it at a young age and I still wore it. It was my choice to want to take it off or not, but I didn’t see any reason to [take it off] because it wasn’t threatening.

A-T: How do you think 9/11 changed things for our generation?

Ayesh: I feel like people judge before they really know who you are. In school, I’m the last person to get a partner in class, because I’m “weird” .Or on the bus, I have a really open seat next to the air conditioning, but they’ll [other passengers] see me sitting next to it, and they’ll just keep on walking. It’s just the little things. I feel like we[Muslims] have to go an extra mile with everything, and it’s harder on us than anyone else.

A-T: Did you experience any hate (incidents) after 9/11?

Ayesh: I felt that people hated me because I was Muslim, and they didn’t even know what it meant. To them, any Muslim was a terrorist. I feel it was the media that made them think that way because I have many friends now who tell me they’ve never had a Muslim friend and they’ve always thought differently [about Muslims]. I tell them, “I’m just the same as you.”

A-T: As the tenth anniversary approaches, how do you feel?

Ayesh: I read an article on how Muslims should stop apologizing for 9/11, and I was like that’s so true. The Columbine shooting and the child molesters that are priests, I don’t see any Catholic s or Christians apologizing. I don’t see why Muslims should apologize. Yes, it was a bad thing, but that does not represent Islam. In the Qur’an it says killing one innocent being is as if you have killed all mankind. It’s haram (forbidden). It’s not something we applaud. It had nothing to do with us, they were just crazy people. I feel bad that it happened, but I’d feel bad if anything else like that happened. I don’t feel like I have to say I’m sorry, it’s not like I personally knew the guy.

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Al-Talib interviews Yahya Fahimuddin, a recent graduate from UCLA, about his thoughts on the Muslim American experience in post 9/11 America.

A-T: How old were you when 9/11 happened? What grade were you in?

Fahimuddin: I think I was 13 or 14 and in 9th grade.

A-T:Since you were a bit older, can you elaborate on what it was like to be a Muslim before 9/11?

Fahimuddin: Basically no one cared what your religion was. Well, if you were Jewish people still didn’t think so highly of you, but whatever you were the overall sentiment was “Oh that cool, more power to ya” There was more discrimination based on skin color than religion. A cop would be more likely to pull you over cause you were brown than because you were a Muslim. I remember the news at the time would still focus on stuff happening in Russia and in Kosovo. But it would be that Soviet nationals are killing Muslim refugees, not the other way around.

A-T: How do you feel when you hear incidents of Muslims being targeted in this country?

Fahimuddin: Pissed and sad at the same time. Sad because people who are just living out their lives are being harmed for no reason, and pissed because it’s totally avoidable. Honestly, if Muslims would stop hiding under rocks and start going out and educating people about what Islam really is, such incidents can be avoided, as the lot of it is rooted in ignorance.

A-T: In what ways has 9/11 changed you?

Fahimuddin: [I’m] more wary of cops and I despise going to an airport. I love flying, but the whole groping and searching is a buzz kill. If a cop walks by, I worry that he might randomly arrest me for some made up reason. Or if I fly I might get stranded someone for no reason. The fact that anything I do will be scrutinized under a microscope 100x more than some random dude off the street. Overall, just an added stress that being a Muslim could mean imprisonment.

A-T: Did if affect your identity?

Fahimuddin: Right after 9/11 I wouldn’t tell anyone I was Muslim. I wouldn’t pray in public, I’d tell people I was allergic to pork and most meat, that I was a vegetarian. I’d avoid hanging around with other Muslims. I’d come up with all kinds of excuses. Totally kept it to myself till about senior year in HS, then I stopped caring. I came to the conclusion that if being Muslim was going to get me in trouble in some way, shape or form, what’s the point of hiding that fact? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

A-T: What does 9/11 mean to you?

Fahimuddin: 9/11 was a tragic and horrible day in history, where the lives of priceless individuals were lost for no reason. It is a day where we are reminded that there are horrible people out there in the world who have nothing better to do but to make innocent people suffer.

A-T: What about the condition of Muslims now, given what’s been going on in America, including the Ground Zero Mosque dilemma, the proposed Qur’an Burning Day, and whatnot?

Fahimuddin: Still screwed. Hate crimes against Muslims are still increasing, and the media isn’t helping in this regard. Polls show that more Americans have hostility towards Muslims. The fact that someone proposed a Qur’an burning day and it took a General to tell him that he is bonkers and will cause more trouble than good should be an indication that it’s a very emotional situation still and that people just don’t know anything about Islam, which is leading them to these rash actions. And it’s totally our fault. We, as a community, suck when it comes to PR and just interacting with our neighbors. Only a few masjids that I know of actually reach out and help their communities by holding food drives, health fairs, feeding poor and so on. Most of them just have an occasional “Open Mosque Day” where the boards of the masjid, and the local churches and synagogues, come and sip lemonade together. No one is going to come to us and say “Hey I want to learn about Islam.” Why should they when they can just turn on Fox News and learn it all there.

A-T: What about the future? Where do you think things are headed for Muslim-Americans? What hopes do you have for future generations of Muslims in America?

Fahimuddin: If things stay the same way, and something catastrophic happens, I could totally see a revisit of internment camps with Muslims replacing the Japanese. We simply don’t defend ourselves. We wait for horrible things to take place, then we come up and apologize. My hopes is that the future generations will start speaking up, and speaking up loudly against all those who slander the Muslim community. Let the world know that we people are hearing on the news is total BS and that this is the reality of the community. Why don’t we hear more about Islamic Relief’s humanitarian efforts here in the US? Why isn’t there a soup kitchen to help the needy run by Muslims? Where are our big shot business men and women? Where are our scientists? Our artists? Our writers? I’ve meet plenty of them. Our community is full of amazing people. Why aren’t we highlighting and supporting them? We sequester ourselves. If we want to move ahead, we need to support each other and say this is who we are.

10th Anniversary of 9/11 Series: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV |

XVI | XVII | XVIII

Throw out all the conspiracy theories and put aside the prejudice towards Muslims –we are in the Post 9/11 era now.  But, in the ten years since terrorism made its way overseas to the States, how much has America really changed?

I will tell you how much America has really changed –from a Muslim’s point of view. America has become desensitized to using the words “jihad” and “terrorist” due to mass media. It has adopted “homeland security” and the Patriot Act as clever euphemisms to “racial profiling.” And, ten years after the attacks of September 11th, more than half of all Americans still claim to have never met a Muslim.

I will tell you how much America has really changed –from an American’s point of view. America has manifested its imperialist motives in Iraq and Afghanistan despite growing popular sentiment against war. It has adopted a new sense of patriotism –almost manufactured patriotism –that escalates with the rainbow of yellow-orange-red “threat levels.” And, ten years after the attacks of September 11th, gas prices haven’t budged.

Ten years of living in Los Angeles, California, USA has challenged my understanding of being “Muslim-American. ” It took a few years to realize being Muslim-American is not a mutually exclusive term nor identity.

What does it mean to be Muslim? Or Muslim-American in the “Post 9/11 era?” It means that I have a higher standard to be on my best behavior every day, to be overtly compassionate, to prove my religion. But I really don’t mind having to take the extra step to show my love for God or for Islam. As Muslims, none of us should mind.

Although it is understandable that many Muslims feel targeted due to September 11th, the actual victims that day were Americans. I empathize with the tens of thousands of victims affected by the attacks, and those who have suffered afterwards with the effects of losing a parent or enduring post-traumatic stress. That day, America was under attack, which means I was under attack as an American. Identically, Post 9/11, Muslims have been under attack through hate-crimes and racism, which means I have been under attack as a Muslim.

Now, Muslim-Americans also need to realize that we were all under attack on September 11. And we need to realize that as Muslims, we must set ourselves to higher standards. May God bless us all and give us strength and patience.

Amen and may peace be upon you.

Photo: Celeste Hutchins