Ten days into a presidency I never anticipated, I find myself shattered and fearful—not just for my own safety, but for millions of others as well. My worries extend far beyond personal concerns; I fear for the world as a whole.
I proudly identify as an American Muslim. My journey into Islam has been profound, and since embracing this faith, I have never felt inferior. Yet today, I encounter daily persecution. Alongside my own anxieties, I see countless others who long to reunite with their families from the seven nations currently barred from entering our beloved country.
Having been raised in a Christian household, I attended church every Sunday with my father. The golden rule of treating others as you wish to be treated was instilled in me deeply. While my father was not overly religious, he emphasized the importance of faith in God. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I made friends from diverse backgrounds, including those who held different beliefs or even those who didn’t believe in God at all. I never questioned how I would treat them; they were simply people deserving of kindness.
What many fail to comprehend is that the harassment occurring in our nation today isn’t confined to one religious group. It affects anyone who believes in the right to worship freely.
Perhaps I was too trusting in thinking that my friends and family would stand by me, especially when I began wearing the hijab. I vividly remember a moment in a store when my phone inadvertently played the Adhan, the call to prayer. I frantically tried to silence it, feeling the weight of judgment from those around me. The woman behind me mocked, “Isn’t that your cue to get on the ground to pray to your God?” Shocked, I stood there speechless, as others around her pretended to be engrossed in their own affairs.
Why does she believe that my prayers to Allah are so different from her prayers to “Father”? They are all names for the same God.
The day before the election, my ex-husband’s rage over political disagreements escalated to threats against my life. I’ve been told by those I once considered friends that I haven’t been a minority long enough to feel upset about the discrimination I face. Family members have reached out, suggesting that I alone am to blame for the hostility directed at me.
A recent encounter with a hotel housekeeper left me disheartened. Upon seeing my Quran, she laughed and asked if I was “making bombs in here.” She didn’t even look at me as she said it. Such encounters have become distressingly common, and they weigh heavily on my heart.
I often feel anger towards my fellow Americans, who have grown comfortable with stereotyping those who are different. Yet, I must not forget the kindness that has been shown to me. For every person who chooses to criticize, there are many more who extend their hands in support.
To my fellow Muslims, I want to impart this message: While many days may feel daunting—especially when witnessing families torn apart or individuals unjustly detained—do not lose hope. For every critic, there are ten who wish to show us love. We must hold onto the true essence of Islam—peace, love, and hope. Remember the teachings of the Quran and stand together, not just with each other, but with every individual in need. This unity is part of what drew me to Islam, and I am committed to upholding it.
As I conclude this reflection, the Adhan calls me to prayer. I will heed that call for all my days, refusing to let fear or shame dictate my life. Insha’Allah.
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Summary
The author shares her experience as a proud American Muslim facing discrimination and hatred in a changing political climate. Despite personal fears and societal challenges, she encourages fellow Muslims to remain hopeful and united, emphasizing the importance of love and understanding in the face of adversity.