By Hannah Mesouani
Director, Office of Diversity and Inclusion
This post is part of our series on "Why is Religion a Touchy Subject?" Check out more by following the "Why is Religion a Touchy Subject?" tag.
As a Muslim woman who doesn’t particularly “look Muslim,” I have found myself in many unwelcome conversations about “those Moslems.” I can be perceived a bit like a cultural chameleon which seems to make folks think they can get away with saying rather problematic things to me, both in-person and online. I am glad that age and humor have afforded me a thicker skin to be able to respond to these -isms with alternating degrees of developmental tact and you-have-got-to-kidding-me eyerolls. However, it will forever be ironic, to say the least, that those things we are socialized to not talk about - sex, politics, and religion - are the things that bigots come for first.
So let’s talk about sex, politics, and, of course, religion. Each of these topics is integral to the very core of who we are. To be clear, I don’t mean politics as in the various pundits we do and do not support; rather I mean the values with which we vote to support or not support members of our community. Sex and religion, in particular, are super vulnerable topics, I don’t want to dive into the “ins-and-outs” of the former, but I do want to share more about the latter. Religion structures and codifies our values, not just on this mortal plane, but literally forever. Forever-forever for those of us who believe in an afterlife. With differences or perceived-differences and disagreements across and within faith groups, we aren’t just talking “agree-to-disagree,” we are talking divine concepts of Good and Evil. We are talking literal Heaven and Hell. The stakes are oh so high that people can feel a divine right to righteously protect all that they hold sacred. Unfortunately, this creates adversarial relationships and too familar violence such as gay conversion camps, violent protests in the name of faith, and full-out genocides and war. We know that no one wants to hear anyone denigrate that which they hold near and dear; let’s be honest, even differing views on sports teams incite violence and hate. This only becomes more impassioned when we challenge each other’s most intimately held beliefs that often function as our inner moral compasses.
So how do we talk about religion from a place of empathy and trust when we see Uyghurs being murdered en masse and hear aggressively mixed messages in our own homes and places of worship? We have to remember that no one person is the poster child of their faith. There is not one correct way to practice your religion. As a Muslim, I know that my queerness and independence can be coded as Othering, but I believe in a God, yes, Allah, who embraces all parts of me that are kind, sincere, and true. As a Muslim, I appreciate the Prophet Mohammed’s (PBUH) words that, “Islam began as something strange and will return to [being] something strange just as [it was] in the beginning, so glad tidings to the strangers.” Normative American media would have me believe that feeling like a stranger makes me less-than. I don’t buy it. As a Muslim, I praise all of the Prophets of God, Jesus included; that is why I believe we cannot put words in divine mouths. We aren’t them. We cannot cast judgement on others for what they believe so long as they are not causing harm to others. To quote Matthew 7, “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” I believe that we cannot weaponize our spirituality to make others’ question their self-worth. I believe that faith should bring us together and give us cause for collaboration and celebration. I also believe that we cannot proclaim absolute command of doctrine and need to approach such conversations with curiosity and humility. So during a time when we are all filled with uncertainty and anxiety, I invite friends and strangers alike to learn about the ways people of different or different-ish faiths find comfort and joy in their spirituality. Let’s press pause on the knee-jerk discomfort we often feel at difference and instead focus on the ways we can connect as a peers just trying to do our best in this hellscape we call 2020.
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