by Ummer AliDear World, You condemn my people on the basis of our religion. You search us at the airports on the basis of us having beards, or looking “too Muslim”. What does that even mean? Your definition of Islam is skewed by the media's manipulation, and by fear-mongering politicians who seek to profit from our misfortune. This letter was originally written in the immediate aftermath of the bombings which occurred in Chelsea on September 17th. That’s the original introduction you just read; it was a letter filled with rage and emotion, about how the United States government, in an effort to reduce terrorism, is effectively perpetuating Islamophobia and xenophobia. After letting the issue digest, and speaking about it to several different people, I decided to rewrite my letter, but in an effort to not lose emotion. As I did so I experienced a struggle. A struggle to be blunt but not to be depicted as the “angry Muslim,” because we know what kind of stereotypes come with that specific characterization. My father grew up in the countryside of Pakistan, and his mother still resides there. His father, my grandfather is buried there, and while I do not know of the man he was, I have heard stories that exemplify his kind nature. This area, much like a lot of Pakistan, is without clean running water or indoor plumbing, and is without electricity for up to 20 hours of the day. The livelihood of these people is built on grazing cattle, cutting grain and sugarcane, and driving trucks. Many people struggle to survive, and some die in worse poverty than anyone in the States has ever known. Beggars litter the city streets, store owners press people to buy their goods, chickens are locked up in cages waiting to be slaughtered and eaten, (but only as a luxury--meat is not a meal the rural Pakistani eats every day.) People are happy, but they dream. They dream of a better life, and one of the places that better life might happen is the United States. A lucky few, like my family, have been able to migrate here. For those lucky enough to reach the U.S., recent actions by a select few individuals, claiming to speak for Islam, have instilled a fear within my people, my fellow Pakistani immigrants. Taxi drivers are scared to stop in the wrong places, families are afraid to speak Arabic and Punjabi in public, fear being kicked off airplanes as terrorists. Children in school named Mohammed are shortening their names to Moe, while Ahmeds are asking to be called by their last names. I have personally witnessed co-workers of mine refusing to show up for work out of fear of a backlash over the recent attacks. They did not want to be targeted. Justice is dead in the United States, replaced by a regime of injustice and repression. Bullshit. I’m tired of Islam being terrorized. I’m tired of mosques advocating for their members “to be vigilant, to be careful.” An uncle of mine often says that we Muslims are the windows through which the rest of the U.S. views Islam He says that if we show them we are good, they will see us as good. I’m tired of that not working, I’m tired of the window always being clouded by the rain of extremism, by the clouds of a select few individuals. I hurt from all the pain, my mind and soul ache from all the turmoil, genocide, and atrocities occurring in Palestine, in Syria, in Pakistan, in Colombia, in South America, everywhere there is struggle. My heart aches and cries out for resolution. As I walk on the train carrying my gym bag, I see a sign that says “If you see something, say something.” I wonder if people “see” anything when they see me? The fear grips me, and sends me into panic. What if I’m racially profiled? What if they claim I’m a terrorist? I wear my beard proudly, but it identifies me along with my general appearance, for a beard on a Muslim is something that elevates some people’s heart rate. I fear for my sisters in the hijab. Many of you wear this proudly, but hate crimes are rising. My appearance is not wholly defined--maybe someone will think I’m Indian--but you can’t mistake a hijab. I fear for the sexism, and Islamophobia that all this brings on to you, and I am amazed by your strength and it drives me through my pain every day. You are my inspiration, and you, you my sisters are warriors. The faith of many is tested in this context. If there really is a God, how is he letting this happen to his people? God is testing us, but God--I was never good in school--so please help. How can you just watch your people’s lives be ruined, and do nothing? Why don’t you step down and help us? Why can’t you make yourself known? What happened to you, oh great one? Step down here with your people and make a stand! It feels as if we are insects trying to fistfight God into action, and God stamps our pleas with a mighty slam of his foot. But we still breathe. We still act, we still fight for change, we try to pull the curtain back, to say look! Look! See what they’re doing? We can change this but we need help. This is not about me vs. you, about Christianity vs. Islam, about Black vs. White, but instead it’s about hate and selfishness vs. freedom and the right to live. I’m just so tired. I am full of emotion, and just pain. I am overwhelmed by grief and heartache. I reflected on the original article, and thought that maybe, just maybe I would feel differently after a while. My heart is still heavy with emotion, and my mind is a maze with no solution. People stop believing in monsters after a while but that’s because they find monsters around them. The media, and the United States are creating monsters that are hiding in the closets of your mind. And yet, the “monsters” fear you.
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