Hoagland’s Hogwash: Islamophobia in the Washington Post

by Guest Contributor Fatemeh Fakhraie, originally published on Racialicious.

Jim Hoagland’s April 12, 2009 article for The Washington Post, entitled “The War Within Islam,” is the best example of “journalistic” Islamophobia I’ve seen in a reputable news source in quite a while. Hoagland has written for The Washington Post for several years, and his focus is on both national and international politics.

But in all his time at the Post, this is the first time he’s ever shown editorial concern for Muslim women. In fact, it’s only the second time he’s focused on Muslim women at all: in 2005, he wrote about the gains that Iraqi women gained in the 2005 elections. These two articles alone reflect a heavy-handed political paternalism that is amplified when he discusses the position of women in predominately Muslim societies. Get ready to see some serious faking concern for women to mask and justify martial occupation!

On a serious note, Hoagland opens by describing the recent video of a Pakistani girl being publicly whipped. This was a horrific occurrence, and no one should be made to suffer this way, publicly or privately. But Hoagland’s use of this video to illustrate the “brutality” of the local Taliban is misplaced because he ends up casting an illustrative net so wide that it catches all Muslim and Southwest Asian men, dehumanizing all instead of only a few. Which one is worse, I’m not sure.

While Hoagland attempted to differentiate between Islam and the political entities he discusses in last Sunday’s article by using specifics (“the Taliban’s version of Islamic law”; “Fanatical Islamic sects have framed their battle in holy terms and seek to destroy their faith’s mainstream values.”), any delineation is lost in his judgment-laden words and mischaracterizations of Afghan and Pakistani men.

The casual insertion of disparaging and condemnatory phrases, such as “…the local Taliban commander continues to flog her without mercy…”, “brutal subjugation of poor, uneducated women…”, and “The savage misogyny and feudal fury of the Swat Valley…”, paints a picture of a place where men are evil and women are victims. (emphasis mine) Instead of placing the blame on local manifestations of patriarchy, he hurls blame at local Taliban, not minding that his condemnation falls like misguided bombs on innocent men who have nothing to do with the Taliban or the public whipping in Pakistan.

Even without actually using the words “brutal” or “savage,” Hoagland successfully uses language to construct Afghan and Pakistani Muslim men as both: “The recent U.S. strategic review, … depict[s] the struggle in the desolate Afghanistan-Pakistan frontier as being rooted in fierce nationalism, the region’s ancient warrior culture, the failures of nation-building and the rebirth of jihadist terrorism.” Ancient warrior culture, huh? If that doesn’t convince you that these brown guys are also the bad guys, then what of “the desire of Pakistani and Afghan men to be left in peace to deal with their womenfolk as they see fit.”? Or “The savage misogyny and feudal fury of the Swat Valley are alien to modern, urban Turkey…” ?

There’s an interesting angle. The idea that Turkey is the “good” Muslim country, and Afghanistan and Pakistan are the “bad” ones is also racialized and Islamophobic. All three countries are predominately Muslim, but because of Turkey’s political/ideological identification with the white, non-Muslim West (particularly Europe), Turkey is the “tolerant, sophisticated” country, despite the fact that Turkey has just as many failings in women’s and human rights as Afghanistan and Pakistan do, both in its history and the present day.

Hoagland also drags out that old gem about Islam being incompatible with modernity: “All religions are absorbing the shocks of globalization. But none has felt more besieged than Islam as the flow of people, goods and instant communications across borders perturb or limit its deep reach into gender relations and family structures.” This paints Islam and Muslims as if they “can’t handle” modernization, and are thus not modern. Not to mention the myopic view that misses examples of religious extremism and gender backlashes from other faiths that have also grown with the rise of globalization.

The article is simply more of the same martial voices trying to camouflage themselves as “protectors of brown women from brown men” under the guise of politics. Hoagland’s judgmental phrases that cast Afghanistan, Pakistan, and everyone within their borders as innately and decidedly good-or-evil is not journalism, and it’s astonishing to see someone who has written about the region and its politics for so long know so little.

(Photo Credit: Xabier Mikel Laburu)

Searching for My Pakistani Identity

By Jehanzeb Dar

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

MANAGER: Aww, is this for your girlfriend?

ME: She’s not my girlfriend.

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

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

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

CUSTOMER: Ooh, you’re buying gifts!

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

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

ME: She’s not my girlfriend.

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

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

“What country are you from?”

For some reason, the question struck me in an odd way, as if it triggered an alarm in my head and sprung forth countless things I’ve been ruminating about over the past few weeks. It wasn’t a new question at all. I have brown skin; it’s easy to notice, so I understood. People ask me where I’m from all the time, but it was different now. Almost immediately, I thought about the current crisis in Pakistan, I thought about the corrupt Pakistani president Asif Zardari, I thought about the Taliban taking control of Swat Valley – a beautiful place that I visited once – and I thought about the U.S. drone attacks in Pakistan and my sheer frustration with Obama’s foreign policy. Even though it only took me about two seconds to respond, I still had more thoughts and feelings swell inside me. I feared that disclosing my nationality would disrupt the friendly interaction I had with the manager and customer. I worried that their response would be offensive or ignorant and that I would go home feeling like an “outsider.” It was too late for that. And it wasn’t their fault.

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

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

As I walked to the other side of the mall, my memory traveled back to January of 2008. Former Pakistani Prime Minister, Benazir Bhutto, had been killed in late December and it was the hot topic for a while in the mainstream media. I was on my way out of a post office one afternoon, minding my own business, when an older man smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you Indian or Paki?” Caught off guard by the random question and his use of the word “Paki,” I smiled at the silliness of the question. “Umm, I’m Pakistani…” I said. The man’s face turned grim. “Shame on you!” he growled. Since there were so many things I was going through at the time, my grief reached a point where I couldn’t even get angry anymore. I laughed instead. “Excuse me?” I asked. He threw his hands in the air, “Your country is a mess! You guys are killing your leaders and your women!” You can’t be serious, I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe I was standing in a post office and listening to a man flipping out on me just because I’m from a certain part of the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those answers suffice for me.

Khuda hafez

Know Your Islam: Speak Out Against Domestic Violence

Before I discuss the recent brutal beheading of Aasiya Zubair, a Muslim-American mother of four, I would like to stress on something that is very important and close to my heart: The majority of Muslims should never apologize or be held accountable for the atrocious actions of others who happen to self-identify as Muslim. The murder of Aasiya Zubair could have happened to anyone, of any religious and/or ethnic group, and the actions of her murderer, Muzzammil Hassan, should never be associated with Islam. Anyone who studies Islam honestly will understand that Mr. Hassan’s actions clearly violated Islamic teachings, therefore the last thing that anyone should call this murder is “Islamic.” It’s very frustrating when I read the ignorant comments posted under articles around the blogosphere — comments like, “Violence against women is considered a religious and cultural duty in the [Muslim] Ummah; don’t try to deny it,” or “Until we in the west see better behavior and adherence to accepted social values from Muslims, I guess we remain to be convinced.” Such ignorance doesn’t help our efforts at all; instead it makes things more difficult. If there weren’t so many ignorant Islamophobes attacking Islam and blaming Muslims for not displaying “accepted social values,” then I wouldn’t have written this paragraph in the first place.

In any case, Muslims must speak out against this horrendous crime not because we’re responsible or should apologize for it, but because this kind of behavior cannot, should not, and will not be tolerated in our community. We, as Muslims, need to turn inward and acknowledge the problems within our communities. It was comforting to see such an immediate reaction from Muslim organizations to call for swift action against domestic violence. As cited by Wajahat Ali, Imam Mohamed Hagmagid Ali, Vice-President of The Islamic Society of North America, wrote a public response:

Our community needs to take a strong stand against abusive spouses…This is a wake up call to all of us, that violence against women is real and can not be ignored. It must be addressed collectively by every member of our community.

As some will argue, this murder was due to “culture,” but what’s problematic about saying this is that the definition of culture gets limited to barbarism and backwardness. In actuality, culture cannot be fixated to these stereotypes because it is, in fact, diverse, flexible, and adaptable. This is not to deny the incredible amount of misogyny that is present in certain Muslim societies, it’s simply to put the true meaning of culture into perspective. To blame a culture for something like Aasiya Zubair’s murder would be impossible without asking: Which culture? Pakistani culture? Okay, what is Pakistani culture? There is no one and singular form of culture because culture is reactive to stimuli. It gets shaped and reshaped, so the problem is not culture itself, but rather how we shape culture. A culture influenced heavily by the mystical traditions of Islam, for example, may differ immensely from a culture influenced heavily by Wahabism in terms of gender issues. Or perhaps there is no religious stimuli and the culture is more secular than anything else. Anyway, my point here is that we need to understand the diversity of culture instead of easily pointing our fingers at it.

But the reality is that there are cultures that have been shaped to be more sexist and misogynistic than others. In respect to the Muslim community, these issues need to addressed because our Way of Life, Islam, strictly condemns this kind of behavior. I do not intend to speak of Islam in a limited sense; on the contrary, when I speak about Islam, I am also speaking about our God-given human rights and how every human being, regardless of their gender, race, culture, religion, sexual orientation, etc. deserves to enjoy their humanity. As the Qur’an says repeatedly, Allah’s grace is Infinite. He is All-Embracing, All-Forgiving; Most Merciful, Most Compassionate. The Qur’an is clear about gender equality, and even historically, the revelations abolished primitive practices like female infanticide and abuse towards women. Many may say they’re frustrated with the Muslim community because the lessons of compassion, gender equality, and Love are right there in front of us, but people also need to understand something else, which is often overlooked: Not everyone who self-identifies as a Muslim is a practicing Muslim. And not every practicing Muslim is a “perfect Muslim.” Sorry to disappoint the Islamophobes, but there is no such things as a perfect human being, let alone a perfect Muslim. A Muslim, just like everyone else, is not immune to sexism, misogyny, anger, hatred, violence, and murder. Did Mr. Hassan self-identify as Muslim? Yes. Did he speak out against Islamophobia through Bridges TV, a television network he co-founded? Yes. Did his murder reflect Islamic teachings. No.

Someone on “Yahoo” asked the question: “What does this murder say about Muslims?” And in my response, I said: This atrocious crime does not say anything about Muslims. To generalize about an entire group of people is not only inaccurate, but it is also a very uneducated thing to say. When we hear stories about a Texas mother drowning her own children, her religion is never blamed or even mentioned. Whenever Muslims commit crimes and murder, on the other hand, it is unanimously assumed that it was because of their religion.

Islam prohibits the killing of other human beings. Even during war, which is strictly permitted in self-defense, the Qur’an prohibits the killing of innocent people.

[5:32] … we decreed for the Children of Israel that anyone who murders any person who had not committed murder or caused corruption in the land, it shall be as if he murdered all the people. And anyone who saves a life, it shall be as if he saved the lives of all the people. Our messengers went to them with clear proofs and revelations, but most of them, after all this, are still transgressing.

As the Hadith (sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him) say:

A wife of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: (The Prophet) never hit anyone with his hand, neither a woman nor a servant.” (Sahih Muslim, Hadith 1082)

The Prophet said: “The most perfect Muslim in the matter of faith is someone who has excellent behavior; and the best among you are those who behave best toward their wives.” (Al-Tirmidhi, Hadith 106)

These are the kind of teachings that we need to re-emphasize on in our communities . We also need to open our doors a little more and understand what it truly means to be a community. For too long do we push people out of the Mosques and Islamic conventions without even realizing it. Should any issue of domestic violence arise, Muslims should feel comfortable and secure about reporting these incidents instead of worrying about being stigmatized. Insha’Allah, as Muslims across North America address this issue, I hope it remains persistent and creates new opportunities to prevent things like this from happening again. I also hope that certain non-Muslim groups realize that such violence exists everywhere and, contrary to what some say, is not and never has been considered a “cultural and religious duty” for Muslims.

May Allah bless Aasiya Zubair’s soul and grant her justice and peace. Ameen.

Muslim-Americans Cautiously Optimistic about Obama

Yesterday morning, as I rushed to eat my breakfast and leave for class, my father tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Guess what?”  With little interest I asked “What?” and expected my dad to crack another joke about Obama converting to Islam, but instead he said, “On the first day, Obama suspended all the trials at Guantanamo Bay.  He’s shutting it down.”  I was pleasantly surprised.

As I drove to college, I felt a little more optimistic about Barack Husayn Obama’s Presidency.  “So far, so good,” I said to myself.  “Not bad, not bad.”  As I read the article myself, the skeptic in me surfaced again when I read Guantanamo Bay would be shut down within a year’s time.  In a facility where Muslim detainees, many of whom are suspected “terrorists” and Al-Qaida “links,” are victimized by brutal and unlawful methods of torture, such as being forced to eat pork, drink alcohol, and curse the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), am I the only one who thinks one year is too long?

The truth is I struggled, and continue to struggle, with my support for Obama.  During election time, I proudly supported him.  I put his lawn signs up and even convinced others to vote for him. Muslim-Americans, including friends of mine, campaigned for him and encouraged fellow Muslims to show their support.

As someone who has experienced Islamophobia first-hand, foreign policy and racial profiling were probably the most important issues to me in this election. Hate crimes and discriminatory acts towards Muslims increased on an annual basis, and I did not hear President Bush voice any concern about it. In addition to how the media kept vilifying Islam and isolating the Muslim voice, I felt like an outsider. But when I saw Obama run for president and talk about so many things, like engaging in diplomacy with Muslim countries, ending racial profiling, closing Guantanamo Bay, and even going as far to state that the U.S. is not just a Christian nation, but a Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist nation as well, I felt like the positive image of America could be restored again and that I wouldn’t just be viewed as an “immigrant-American” anymore.  For once, I felt like I could look at our flag and connect with it in a way that I never did before.  But those moments were very brief and they went away quickly.

During the presidential debates, he spoke with so much hostility towards Pakistan. He came off sounding very ignorant and misinformed about the situation. Then Gaza was a wake up call. With over 1,300 people dead, I can’t help but wonder why Obama would condemn the terrorist attacks in Mumbai, but not have the courage to condemn Israel’s terrorist attacks on Gaza.   During the crisis, I re-watched his speech at AIPAC several times and felt my hopes in him crumbling away.

After one of the Gaza rallies in Philadelphia, a friend of mine said, “everyone at that rally voted for Obama. Is he going to show us any appreciation in return?” I voted for Obama because I am sick of feeling like an outsider.  I voted for Obama because I’m sick of seeing only one side of the story, while Muslims are vilified in the mainstream media.  I voted for Obama because I don’t want my heart to feel any more pain whenever I’m praying for fellow human beings who are being killed overseas.

And then, just last night, things started to shift again for me.  After Isha prayer at my local Mosque, my fellow Muslim brothers and I were talking about Obama’s order to shut down Guantanamo bay.  I expressed my disappointment over Obama not saying anything to condemn Israel’s attacks on Gaza, but then a fellow Muslim brother told me that the expectation level for Obama is so high that if he makes one little mistake, we get very critical of him.  This needs to change, he encouraged.  We shouldn’t be too quick to judge.  As our discussion carried on, I decided to make my own list of “Pros” and “Cons” about Obama’s Presidency in respect to issues that concern many Muslim-Americans.

Pros:

1.  His name is Barack Husayn Obama.  Whether people like it or not, he has a Muslim background.  Though there are conflicting reports, it looks like his grandmother, Sarah Husayn Obama, is a Muslim.  It is also clear that he has Muslim relatives.  I personally believe this is a very positive sign because it will most likely make him more sympathetic to the Muslim world (as well as the struggles of Muslim-Americans).  This would give him more credibility and respect in the Muslim world than any other American president.

2.  According to the official website for the White House, the Obama administration promises to end racial profiling.  As the agenda states:  “President Obama and Vice President Biden will ban racial profiling by federal law enforcement agencies and provide federal incentives to state and local police departments to prohibit the practice.”

3.  President Obama has already signed the executive orders to shut down Guantanamo Bay within a year.  It is truly comforting that the new President has acted so swiftly to prohibit unlawful methods of prisoner abuse and torture.  Muslims-Americans, as well as Muslims around the world, are still outraged by how the Bush administration stood by silently while interrogators desecrated Qur’ans and flushed them down toilets in order to intimidate detainees.

4.  Diplomacy with Iran.  This was one of the many issues that made Muslim-Americans distance themselves from John McCain.  Although the Obama administration claims to perceive Iran as a “threat,” it promises to engage in direct diplomacy with  its leadership.  I would like to think that Obama already acknowledges the fact that Iran has a Jewish population of over 25,000 and even has Jewish representation in the Iranian parliament.  One would hope that the Obama administration noticed the Iranian Jews who took to the streets of Iran and protested against Israel’s attacks in Gaza.

Cons:

1.  Afghanistan and Pakistan.  According to the official White House website, the Obama administration promises to “refocus American resources on the greatest threat to our security — the resurgence of al Qaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan and Pakistan. They will increase our troop levels in Afghanistan, press our allies in NATO to do the same, and dedicate more resources to revitalize Afghanistan’s economic development. Obama and Biden will demand the Afghan government do more, including cracking down on corruption and the illicit opium trade” (emphasis added).  Reading this statement makes one ask:  “Weren’t we voting for an anti-war President?”  In regards to Pakistan, “Obama and Biden will increase nonmilitary aid to Pakistan and hold them accountable for security in the border region with Afghanistan.”  It doesn’t make sense to me why the Obama administration would increase troop levels in Afghanistan and yet not send military aid to Pakistan.  As I mentioned in another post of mine, Pakistan has suffered (and continues to suffer) a great deal when it comes to combating the Taliban.  It’s rather unsettling how Obama doesn’t seem to recognize this.

2.  Hilary Clinton, Joe Biden, and Rahm Emanuel are all in Obama’s cabinet.  Hilary Clinton once stated she would “obliterate Iran,” Joe Biden is a self-proclaimed Zionist, and Rahm Emanuel served in the Israeli military and is very pro-Israel.  I know Obama has the final say on things, but one cannot help but worry about his cabinet’s potential influences.

3.  Israel.  Will we finally see a president who takes a strong stance against Israel’s military occupation of the Palestinian people?  Will we finally see a president who will sincerely help the Israelis and Palestinians come to a resolution without vilifying the Palestinians?  Or are we going to see the same failed policies of the Bush administration?  It should be obvious to people by now that AIPAC has an immense influence on U.S. politics.  It’s hard to imagine someone getting elected president of the United States without supporting AIPAC and the state of Israel.

4.  Obama may fail to understand the Muslim world in the same way Bush failed to.  During Obama’s speech on inauguration day, he said:  “To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict or blame their society’s ills on the West, know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy…”  He’s clearly addressing the Muslim world here and what’s so frustrating is that this statement paints the same image that Bush presented, i.e. the Muslim world is “destroying” and killing people without any reason. Of course there is violence taking place in the Muslim world, but what triggered that violence? You look at Iraq, and you’ll see that violence erupted in the form of resistance against U.S. invasion and occupation. You look at Palestine, and you see violent resistance against the brutal Israeli military occupation.  Obama continued and said:  “The world will judge you on what you build, not what you destroy…” Well if Iraq, Palestine, and Afghanistan get a chance to build instead of getting bombed, then I’m sure things would be much different.  And wasn’t Israel recently bombing innocent people and destroying places like schools, Mosques, and hospitals?

Anyway, these are just a few “Pros” and “Cons” that I thought of the other night.  I’m sure others have more to add.  I want to believe Obama can bring a positive change.  I can’t imagine how a man like him can sit down and speak to the late Palestinian academic, Edward Said, and then (many years later) kiss up to Israel and AIPAC.  I can’t imagine how a man like him could speak to Rashid Khalidi and not see the oppression taking place against the Palestinians.  I sincerely hope that my worries about him are wrong.  I’d rather be cautiously optimistic and suprised than be overly enthusiastic and end up feeling disappointed and fooled.

You Cannot Believe Without Questioning

Hi everyone!  This is Jehanzeb, the new Administrator  for “Islam on My Side.”  I’m excited about this opportunity to share more about the Muslim-American experience and to collaborate with fellow bloggers.  The following is an article that discusses issues concerning  Muslim-Americans in the upcoming U.S. election. The article was original posted on my personal blog.  Please feel free to share your thoughts!

There is no doubt that Barack Obama dominated the first Presidential debate against John McCain. Obama was confident in his responses and he completely hammered McCain with a solid plan for improving the U.S. economy, while McCain looked tense and countered with unsubstantial responses. Most notably, perhaps, was how McCain didn’t make eye contact with Obama once, which I interpret as being incredibly disrespectful and immature. As other political commentators and analysts have pointed out, McCain’s debating style personalizes the differences between both candidates. In other words, by not making eye contact or addressing Obama directly, McCain reaffirms his self-perceived dominance over Obama, but he also alludes to Obama being his “opponent” (or even “enemy” according to the Bush Doctrine’s your-either-with-me-or-against-me sermon). Obama, on the other hand, looked at McCain directly and even addressed him by his first name, “John.” Obama even looked into the camera to address the viewers, which I believe earned him a significant boost in the debate.But there are issues to discuss and question, especially for the Muslim community. There can be no argument that Muslim-Americans have been stigmatized ever since September 11th, but even more so after the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. When both candidates talk about the “spirit of national unity” after September 11th, this may be true for most Americans, but it is certainly not true for the Muslim community. There have been over 3,000 reported incidents regarding discriminatory acts, hate crimes, and prejudice towards Muslim-Americans, and neither of the candidates have spoken about it. Obama seemed to allude to it during the debate when he mentioned the world’s perception of American has changed significantly as a result of the wars, but he didn’t mention the repercussions Muslim-Americans have experienced and still endure.