Eleanor Roosevelt reminded us that universal human rights begin in small places close to home. Recently, I drew upon Roosevelt's wisdom in offering my perspective at the Annual Meeting of the United Muslims of America in Newark, CA:
"Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home - so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any maps of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person; the neighborhood he and she live in; the school or college he attends; …[the] office where she works. Such are the places where every man, woman, and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination.”
Muslims and non-Muslim ask, how do we enter into this uncomfortable climate of fear, misinformation and prejudice? We may not like it but for a time Islamaphobia is here with us. I am glad that professionals from different sectors - scholars, theologians, historians, pollsters, journalists, social scientists - are staying up late, contributing perspectives and studying root causes, demographics, religious origins, impact, etc. We need the best and the brightest to bring forward information and open up conversation and perspectives.
But I want to focus on the significance of our own experiences - what we think and do in “small places close to home.” A man named Marcus Braybrooke, an early pioneer in interfaith work, said that when we speak of people’s faith and enter into sharing practices together, we must remember to take off our shoes, because we are entering upon holy ground. Likewise, I think this topic Islamaphobia - an irrational fear of Islam, Muslim people, - especially the question: why people have fear, how it gets stirred up, and how it can be stopped - need to be entered into with shoes off too – not just as a subject for head and analysis but a place that requires deeper levels of inner work, deep learning, openness, and forgiveness. I realize that this is why my story is valuable to this conversation.
I want to offer a few personal experiences.
“Profound Ignorance” – The event was the annual dinner of United Muslims of America. The year was 1997. I had just started doing interfaith work. Iftekhar invited me and other URI staff to attend this dinner. I found myself driving here alone from Oakland. Other staff couldn’t attend. I was recently divorced, so I had no husband to accompany me. My memory is that I was really afraid. I had stereotype images (from who knows where) in my head…would I be welcome as a Christian? Would I feel uncomfortable being alone? Would it be dangerous? I’m embarrassed now to admit – how stupidly ignorant I was then. I simply didn’t know any better. Of course, when I arrived, I was warmly greeted and graciously ushered to sit with women whom I found to be delightful in every way and very much like me!
I start with this personal anecdote because prejudice from ignorance is real - there are people in the grip of Islamaphobia that are as ignorant now as I was then. Colossal ignorance is dangerous… but curable.
The Choice – The second story comes in 2001 a few months after 9.11. My daughter Lizzie, who had been teaching at St. Michael’s--an international school in Kobe, Japan-- called me to say she was considering converting to Islam. She said she had met women at the mosque nearby her home whom she admired. She found answers to deep questions about how she could live a life of faith. Of course, I was shocked… and stunned… Her timing was terrible – with the US beginning to bomb Afghanistan! I tried to convince her to postpone her decision by saying she should think of conversion like a marriage, a core lifelong commitment and one that needs time and consideration. I suggested a year of engagement. Respectfully she thanked me for my advice. In three days she called me back and said, "I converted." Shortly after that when we were together celebrating a special Christmas holiday. We shared a hotel room. When I awoke in the morning, there was Lizzie covered from head to foot in her prayer garment, kneeling on the floor at the side of my bed praying. The reality shot through me. In an instant I saw the young woman who was no longer the daughter I thought I knew. She was dressed in a garment that looked strange. She had taken a path that I felt would separate her from me and our family. Islam was coming under attack around the world. Would she be safe? I was afraid...for her and for me. At the same moment, I saw her serenity. I had a choice in that split second…without thinking, I bent over and kissed her on the forehead. The choice happened, I’m still not sure how – to accept her in that moment and all that would flow from it.
I offer this story – because it shows how central private choices are. Perhaps our choices are not always as dramatic as this one, but when we are challenged with an unknown or a prejudice - do we react with fear… Or, do we choose to respond with trust. When we hear stories of prejudice and hostility, do we choose to repeat those negative stories more than stories of positive encounters?
The third story is about my work with the United Religions Initiative. Another staff member and I were inspired by the Tool Kit that CAIR (Council on America Islamic Relations) put out for the Muslim community to help people respond to fears stirred up last year by the minister who threatened to burn the Koran. CAIR’s Tool Kit was for the Muslim Community and our Tool Kit was for non Muslim communities. We focused on what might be considered “small acts” for individuals or groups. Send a card or flowers with a message of support to a neighborhood mosque, ask one’s own religious leader to speak out against Islamaphobia during times when fears are stirred up; organize conversations where people share positive encounters and stories of respect and friendship. We have Tool Kit cards on the back table and you can get a copy of the entire Tool Kit from URI’s website. www.uri.org
It is a time, with thousands of people all over the world, to reach out to meet ugly and uncomfortable experiences with positive actions that weave a stronger fabric of community.
We want a lot of people to do a lot of things. We want political and religious leaders to speak out forcefully and consistently against acts of violence done in the name of any religion and to condemn political and religious leaders who enflame religious intolerance. We want people to write blogs and join community groups to confront specific acts of bigotry and violence when they occur. We want people to use opportunities in their neighborhood to reach out and break through prejudice or ignorance with a kind gesture. We want civil servants, teachers, policy-makers, and leaders of non-Islamic faith traditions to educate themselves about Islam and speak against Islamaphobia. We want more citizens to mobilize media to educate audiences wisely, present news responsibly.
But I believe that confronting Islamaphobia is ultimately not about getting “others” to do things - it is about each of us using the opportunities life presents to us to make personal choices. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, the difference lies in whether or not in significant numbers men and women in “small places close to home” will choose to do their part.
For ideas to counter Islamophobia in your community, download the URI Tool Kit: Actions for Interfaith Solidarity.
Watch the videos of the talk:
