Will Muslims ever be part and parcel of America?
As Muslim-Americans, we constantly reassure ourselves. Get an education. Excel in your fields. Be that Muslim you wish the media could see; be the “moderate” they are looking for. And things will change. People will open up their minds and hearts. They will see beyond ISIS and 9/11; they will realize you are not Boko Haram and you do not stand for the murder of innocents. And they will accept you. They will embrace you.
Dozens at Chicago vigil mourn deaths of three N.C. Muslims
But then a tragedy of the magnitude of the Chapel Hill, N.C., murders occurs, and you realize this may all be a farce. Your worst fear, the one you suppress and relegate to the recesses of your mind, becomes a reality. You realize that you could be the top of your class and give back to your community — be the model citizen. You could even voice your disapproval at every possible act of violence you may or may not be falsely identified with, constantly justifying and rejustifying the legitimacy of your faith, screaming from the rooftops #JeSuisCharlie and #NotInMyName. You could use the hashtags, lead the protests and issue the requested and expected condemnations.
And you could still be a target.
You ask yourself: Are we destined to remain “otherized,” categorically excluded, alienated and repelled from the very society in which we live? Must we constantly assert our Americanness and prove our loyalty, only to be demonized, vilified and caricatured by our media?
It is exhausting to feel compelled to constantly validate your identity. Must Muslims be paragons of excellence, lest there be a motive found for their murder other than sheer hatred? Littering? Running a stop sign? Being too loud?
Existing?
The overwhelming sense of grief many Muslim-Americans felt following the cold-blooded murder Tuesday in Chapel Hill of Deah Shaddy Barakat, 23, his wife, Yusor Mohammad, 21, and her sister Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha, 19, hit us directly in our hearts. We are them. They represent us, everything we grew up with — our lifestyles, our identities, our faith. They embody what our communities tried to instill, and continue to struggle to instill, in young Muslims growing up in this country — a sense of pride in their faith and a sense of devotion to their fellow man.
The Islamophobia propagated by media — whether in the form of sensationalist news coverage, providing a platform for the rabid hate speech of right-wing politicians, or stereotypical film plots and the lionization of “heroes” such as American sniper Christopher Kyle — is palpable and has very real consequences for Muslim-Americans. It is not a figment of our imaginations; we are not being dramatic, nor are we exaggerating the effects of such rhetoric. It is time for those who rile up the public and fuel virulent racism and Islamophobia with their unfounded claims and ignorant assertions to take responsibility for the consequences of their heedless and insidious speech.
I believe in divine justice, and to me, it is no accident that the three victims of this heinous crime were not just ordinary Americans — they were extraordinary. They excelled academically, were active socially and gave to humanity. There is divine wisdom in having their uplifting stories told, and it is devastating that it took their murders to compel network news to broadcast such inspirational stories of Muslim-Americans.
It was just last week I stood in front of my classroom full of Muslim high school juniors, discussing with them the poetic insight of Walt Whitman, who envisioned an America that was robust and free; a “teeming nation of nations” that encompassed the dreams, ideals and philosophies of those who landed on her shores. We analyzed and dissected Whitman’s prose and poetry, asking ourselves, where do we as Muslims fit into this narrative? Do we belong in Whitman’s America? Are Muslims part and parcel of this nation? Can we ever be?
I didn’t have a definitive answer for them then. And I certainly don’t have one now. But I do know that Whitman also said, “The largeness of nature or the nation were monstrous without a corresponding largeness and generosity of the spirit of the citizen.”
Deah, Yosur and Razan were those citizens. And we will never forget their legacies.
Freelance journalist Deanna Othman lives in Oak Lawn.
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