In a year of reporting on Muslims across this country, I walked away knowing that there is no one story to tell, there are many stories. And yet so often, Muslims are spoken of as a monolith rather than the diverse mosaic of practice, culture, tradition, race, gender and sexualities that they are.
But members of a new generation of American Muslims are intent on telling their own stories — in their own words and on their own terms. Muslims still make up just about 1 percent of the country’s population, but the faith is growing and is one of the most racially and ethnically diverse religious groups in the country.
The young Muslims I met say they are tired of being put in a box labeled either villain or victim. So they’re breaking it open. From the very religious to the Ramadan Muslims to the nonreligious, they’re turning the stereotypes on their heads as they enter fashion, politics, academia, Hollywood, broadcasting and smoky comedy clubs.
Usama Canon, an American preacher and teacher, has described Islam, quoting a great scholar, as “a pure, clear water that takes the color of whatever riverbed it flows over.” He said he hopes Muslims in America “can kind of color that bedrock in a beautiful way and can contribute to what is the American project in a way that when that water flows over it, it has a uniquely American and a distinctly American color and flavor but is authentic to itself as a faith tradition.”
So we asked American Muslims to tell us how they are crafting their own stories — through art, music, activism or just their daily lives — and whether anything has changed in this political climate. We received nearly 200 responses, including people defining their own narratives in quiet ways, like a woman who wears a pin identifying herself as a Muslim, and louder ones — like the musician blending Middle Eastern tunes with jazz, rock and funk.
Here’s what they said:
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“I tell my story how I want”
Courtesy Huda Fahmy
“After 9/11, I was adamant to prove that I was just like everybody else. I called my hijab a scarf when it was so much more than that. When asked, I insisted that I wasn’t hot in my hijab (even though it was 102 degrees out and everybody was hot) in a desperate attempt to show them that I wasn’t oppressed. But now, in this current political climate, I refuse to let societal predisposition control me. The fear and intimidation I used to feel now strengthens me. It puts an extra skip in my step, and honest to God, I even started walking a little taller. I tell my story how I want, when I want. And ain’t that just the American way?”
— Huda Fahmy, 33, Houston. She illustrates a Web comic called Yes, I’m Hot In This, riffing off a constant question — “aren’t you hot?” — she gets when people see her religious head covering.
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“Emphasizing actions”
“Growing up, I thought I needed to tell my story by explaining to people why I was fasting in middle and high school during Ramadan, or feeling obliged to do a presentation on Eid in second grade when everyone else was asked to do a presentation on how their families celebrate Christmas. But that has changed. To me, telling my story as a Muslim American has become much less about highlighting what is different about being a Muslim American citizen and more about emphasizing actions that show that Muslims are part of the fabric of America’s identity.”
— Amr Kotb, 31, Washington, D.C. Kotb says he no longer goes out of his way to “tell people what it means to be a Muslim anymore.”
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Blended musical identity
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Courtesy Mustafa Stefan Dillon
“I personally define my identity through my various music projects. As an oudist [the oud is a Middle Eastern lutelike instrument] and guitarist, I bring elements of free jazz, rock, funk and Middle Eastern elements. It’s culturally diverse and, in that sense, a very American music, someone once told me. I’m a Mexican American and came to Islam through music, but I also have a cultural connection via Lebanese half cousins. But I’m a product of American culture too, so Led Zeppelin and Miles Davis is as much a part of what I hear as is flamenco and Middle Eastern music.”
— Mustafa Stefan Dill, 54, Albuquerque, N.M.
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Defining herself
“I’m making films about the Muslim experience, particularly as a Muslim woman of color … Since I don’t wear hijab, I now wear a pin on my coat that says ‘Unapologetically Muslim.’ It’s not much, but it’s one way I define myself in the public eye.”
— Sherouk Omara, 25, Atlanta
MORE:
https://www.npr.org/2018/04/20/603246583/muslims-in-america-telling-your-own-stories
Categories: America, Americas, United States