When the doorbell rang a few weeks ago I sent my 3-year-old daughter and autistic 5-year-old son running after their father to open it.  We were expecting their aunt, and what we saw instead was our next-door neighbor Bonnie, covered in blood and crying hysterically. Within seconds my daughter was screaming, my son panicking, and my husband staring, aghast, at a woman my own age whom we had seen just an hour before, looking a little shaken but definitely not pouring blood.

“Call 911!” my husband yelled into the house. I yelled for my son's caregiver, Joy, and our housekeeper, Cindy, to take the children into house.  They both jumped in surprise, because this is a house where people don't yell.

“Get the kids inside the house now! NOW! NOW!”

“Now?!” Joy and Cindy both echoed back, alarmed.

“NOW!” I yelled, as I ran to the kitchen and grabbed plastic wrap and kitchen shears. I snatched up the phone, dialed 999 and was grateful to Allāh that I had the presence of mind to dial the UAE emergency number rather than the US one.  “My neighbor is at the door bleeding,” I told the man on the phone, “I don't know what has happened but she's at the door and she's bleeding.”

I passed my daughter in the hallway, tucked under the housekeeper's arm and still screaming in terror as she was rushed in the opposite direction.  My son was whisked past me a second later by his caretaker, and I could hear the kids crying muffled as they were closed and locked behind the playroom door.

My husband was still standing at the open gate, trying to ask Bonnie what happened.  People from the street had gathered around staring at the two of them.  I was unsuccessfully trying to give the operator our address.  The street and house numbers just wouldn't come out right, no matter how many times I tried to say them.  “Bring her inside!  Bring her here!” I said to my husband, holding the phone out to him.  My husband ushered Bonnie inside the gate, took the phone and gave the police the right address.  I sat Bonnie down next to me on the front steps and pulled off a length of plastic wrap.  Then I wrapped it around Bonnie's right wrist and tied it tightly.  I did the same to her left wrist.  I didn't know if I was tying her hands in the right place because I couldn't tell where she had been cut, but one thing was very clear – she had been cut before.  Just a few inches below the plastic wrap tourniquets, where my left and right hands were pressing her left and right wrists to try to make the bleeding stop, were the marks of several other cuts still relatively fresh and glued with strips of hospital-grade tape.

“I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry,” she sobbed, pressing her face against my arm.

“You don't have anything to be sorry for, it's alright.  That's a nice tattoo,” my husband said conversationally, trying to engage Bonnie.  A man's name was written across her left arm, the last two letters smeared with blood and hidden under my left hand.

“My brother, he died. My brother died…” she broke off and began sobbing with renewed misery.

I looked up at my husband and saw the gate still standing open.  Bonnie was crying and rubbing her blood-covered face onto my now blood-covered arms.  A man from up the street was standing just a few feet away, and I was without my ḥijāb or abayah.  “Can you close the gate please?” I asked. My husband turned around angrily and pushed the people back.  “Stop staring at my wife!”  He closed the gate.

The first ambulance arrived within minutes, and my husband rushed to bring me a shawl.  He threw it over me just as the paramedics entered, covering me as well as I could be covered considering that I was still holding tightly to Bonnie's wrists and she was still crying and pressing her face onto my arm.  The paramedics took her left hand from me and began to bandage it.  Then they took her right hand from me and Bonnie panicked- “Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! Don't go!”

“I'm just going to put on some clothes,” I tried to reassure her.  ” I'll be back in a minute, I promise.”

Cindy, our housekeeper, met me inside the living room and trailed me to the bathroom as I walked elbows up, trying not to trail blood on the floor.  It was warm and sticky, and I remember thinking how unusual it was that it didn't flow as much as it thickly dripped.  She took the bloody shawl from me, turned on the tap, and poured copious amounts of anti-bacterial soap onto my hands.  “The kids ok?” I asked as I scrubbed my arms.

“They're calm now.  There's blood on your nose.”  I nodded and she poured more soap onto my hands so I could wash my face.  I took off the apron I had been wearing – I was cooking dinner when the bell rang – and asked her to wash that and the shawl immediately.  I went to my room, threw on an abayah and a scarf and went outside again.

Bonnie's father had arrived.  My husband seems to have amazing presence of mind in emergencies, though I have no idea when he managed to make that call.  Bonnie's father was strangely quiet, distant even, and then I realized he was in shock, not physically but emotionally.  The paramedic told him to hold Bonnie's arm up to help stop the bleeding.  He absentmindedly took it and a few seconds later he simply dropped it.

“Bonnie's arm, “my husband said to him, “You need to hold up her arm.”

“Oh.” He picked it up again, though he didn't seem to know what to do with it.  Bonnie's head began to slump.  I took it in my hands and tilted her face upwards.  “She's not breathing,” her father said quietly, politely even. “You guys, I think she's not breathing?”

One of the paramedics whipped out an oxygen mask and put it over her mouth and nose.  I pulled the elastic over the back of her head.  Bonnie began gasping, then retching, and the paramedic took the mask off immediately while Bonnie dry-heaved into her lap.

The gate opened again and my sister- the aunt we had been expecting earlier- walked in looking alarmed.  “What's going on?”  Three new paramedics followed behind her.

“Our neighbor cut herself.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“The kids are in the playroom, they may be a little traumatized.  Can you see how they're doing?”  She nodded and went into the house.

Eventually Bonnie was put onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.  Her mother arrived by taxi, crying, smoking, and shaking so hard she couldn't sort through her purse to locate a form of ID to give to the police.  My husband paid the expectant-looking taxi driver, who had been standing, forgotten, up the street behind the emergency vehicles that were blocking the road.

Then the ambulance took Bonnie and her father away.  Bonnie's mother needed to follow in the father's car, but she couldn't find any keys.  She asked me to follow her into the house to look for a pair, so we walked next door, following the trail of blood from my gate to hers.  She reached her own front steps, gasped, covered her eyes and turned away.  There was a trail of blood- much more than the one leading into my house and neatly pooled at my front steps- it made its way out of the open front door, splashed across the steps and stained the floor tiles all the way out to the gate.

My husband, who had followed behind us, picked up the garden hose to wash the front steps, but before he could turn it on, the mother lost her composure.  She threw herself onto his shoulder and cried, and I know she was saying something but I don't think either my husband or I could make it out.   He passed her gently to me, just as the police were entering.  “Don't wash it,” they said.  “Don't touch anything, please.”

“My friend is coming,” the mother gasped when she could speak again, “Maria is coming and she'll help me find the keys.  She'll find the keys for me.  I need a drink, I need a coke, you know I don't drink any alcohol but my throat it's just so- please, I need a drink.”  I took the mother into our house instead, which was much less bloodied, and sat her down on the same front steps.  I brought her a drink and a box of tissues.  She lit another cigarette, took a few sips of her drink and then walked out of the gate again.  She couldn't sit still or stop talking.  Everything about her was shaky and flustered with non-stop talking.

I followed her outside where she stood next to the police officers.  My husband was there as well, trying to explain how a blood-covered woman ended up in our front yard and how we could have no idea what had happened.  “You see,” the mother explained nervously, ”She's been like this since my son…her big brother, he died…” and she lost it again, tears rolling down her face and her cigarette dangling from her fingers in front of her face as she shook and cried.

“When did that happen?” my husband asked gently.

“Two years,” she choked, “It's been two years and she pretends she's ok, but we all know it hurt her so badly.”  The mother reached up and fiddled with the cross around her neck.  The police officers looked at one another and nodded.  We all knew what had just happened to Bonnie, or rather, what Bonnie had just tried to do to herself, but no one was saying it.

I went back inside the house and washed up and changed my clothes again.  We fed the children dinner and put them to bed.  My husband, sister and I each prayed Maghrib ṣalāh, and eventually Bonnie's mother returned and took us up on our offer to drive her to the hospital in case she couldn't find the car keys.  It turns out the father had taken them with him to the hospital.  My husband had a few standing bites of dinner and then left to drive the mother to the hospital.  My sister stayed for dinner, and outside of the house the water evaporated off of the sun-baked cement tiles where our housekeeper had tried to wash away the blood.

And this is the part of the story that has not yet happened – Bonnie has not yet called me back, following the surgery she had on her hands the next day to repair the tendons that had been severed.  Her father did make a brief phone call to my husband to thank us, but we have not talked about it or brought up what was, in essence, Bonnie's failed suicide attempt.

The blood outside hasn't faded yet either.  I've been hoping that the Dubai sun will bleach the stains from in front of the gate, but they persist despite the 100+ degree heat every day.  Apparently, Bonnie first went to another neighbor's house, and they would not let her in.  When she came to our house next and leaned on the doorbell, other neighbors told my husband not to let her in when he came to answer the door.  Why? Because the police would ask us questions.

We see the neighbor's lights on in the evening, and we know they're home, but they haven't invited us back in.  We wave to each other every few days – I often see Bonnie's father driving home just as I am leaving, or her mother taking out the trash when I bring my son back home from school.  I ask how Bonnie is doing and they smile and say “Fine!” and we wave and go our separate ways.  And that's the really sad part- separate ways.  Without īmān, the sudden death of a beloved brother was enough to ruin Bonnie's life two years after the incident.  She doesn't work, she stays home and paints and smokes, and in the evenings we can smell the smoke wafting over the garden wall that divides her house from ours.   I wish I could go back and reassure her somehow, but without belief in the ākhirah, in Allāh's Mercy, or in the good in all things – even death – what do I have to work with?

We take Islam for granted, this I am sure of, because my husband and I, on learning why Bonnie had tried to kill herself both privately thought, “What, just because her brother died?”   To Muslims, death is a transition, not a tragedy.  The greatest loss is not of life but of īmān. The shahīd can die with faith and we are jealous of them, but a person could live without it for a hundred years in luxury and we would pity them.

I don't mean to belittle the kind of pain that Bonnie must be in, or to make light of a grief so strong that two years later it overshadows her life.  I understand that without a complete picture of human existence – one that includes resurrection, accountability, and life after death – the end of human life is a tragedy of such magnitude and frequency that perhaps one would want to just get it over with and kill ourselves now, or just get over it because everyone dies and there's no point.  Without faith, our options are depression, desensitization, or delusion.  Bonnie chose the first one.

So half of this story hasn't happened, and I really wish it would.  That would be the part where Bonnie calls, or just walks over (following the rust-colored stains) to our gate and rings the bell to have a chat.  It would involve me trying to share the salām, the peace that Islam brings us when we submit to Allāh and trust in His Will, even when it hurts.  It has only been a few weeks since she first walked over, bleeding and crying; maybe she's just working up the courage.  Maybe she's just waiting for her hands to heal.  In any case, please make du'ā' for Bonnie and her family, that their sorrow be the catalyst for seeking solace, and that solace be Islam.  āmīn.

The United for Change Conference took place on September 10th, at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center in downtown, Washington, D.C. It brought together a diverse group of speakers, all of whom reflected on the post-9/11 decade and its impact on American Muslims.

The following is Sh. Yasir Qadhi's speech.

Click here to view the embedded video.

There are posts on MuslimMatters that we believe are overlooked ‘gems’ that NEED to be read, especially by our new readers.  The link to the original post is provided for readers to view the original comments or start a new conversation here.

Link to all Ramadan 2011 posts

I pass by it every time I go shopping to the fashion district in downtown Los Angeles, you cannot avoid it. Right past the diamond district and the wholesale flower market in the richest country in the world, in one of the richest state’s richest counties, under the shadow of Hollywood actors’ condos is the human stain that is Skid Row. You forget that you are in the US when you enter the urine-drenched, graffiti covered streets of the homeless capital of the world. There is nothing like this anywhere in the country: complete desolation for 50 blocks. Ten of thousands of homeless individuals on the streets, shopping carts full of their only possessions. Signs etched in the parking meters demark territories, while blue tarps cover makeshift cardboard box condos. Trash is strewn on every corner. They come here waiting to die, the addicts, the mentally ill, war veterans but many are there crippled by financial crisis or foreclosures. Some can’t get a job even if they want to because they do not have an address; it is a vicious cycle that they may get trapped into for years. Other have jobs but cannot afford housing.

The guilt of speeding past them, ignoring them, scared to look lest one of them caught my eye, haunted me.  Back in Pakistan you would just feed someone who was so obviously hungry.  “They have a right over you, you live in this country,” whispered my soul. I started volunteering at our local homeless shelter. “Not in our backyard” signs cropped up, funding dried up and they shut it down after the worst of winter was over. What now?

Then I found out about Humanitarian Day – an event that allows me to put my Islamic beliefs of charity into practice, one the organizers choose to hold in the month of Divine Rahmah, Ramadan.

Click here to view the embedded video.

From the press release: “The Los Angeles Muslim Community under the banner “Coalition to Preserve Human Dignity (CPHD)” successfully reflect true Islamic principles around social/ civic duties by engaging in America’s domestic problems. Collectively organizing supporting resources; both intra and interfaith organizations for effective collaborations that serve the homeless with “Dignity, Love and Respect.”

The founding organization ILM Foundation has organized events serving the needy, where line items are distributed such as; hygiene kits, warm meals, clothing and medical services by the UMMA Community Clinic; all are administered and given free of charge.

Humanitarian Day  is hosted in Oakland, CA; Santa Ana, the Inland Empire, Long Beach, Baltimore, MD,  20 other cities in US and internationally in Ghana and Indonesia this Ramadan. A Humanitarian Day event is “Faith in Action” counteracting negative stereotypes of Muslims in America.”

Those kids cheering and greeting the homeless in the beginning of this clip are my ‘girls’- MYSCV. Our youth group boys were manning the canned food stand. We go there every year, alhamdulillah it has become a Ramadan tradition – these iPhone-toting, overprivileged kids see for themselves how the have-nots in this country live. They fundraise their contribution through bake sales and experience the bliss of actual giving. See, kids who grow up in the ‘third world’ see poverty on the streets everyday but here in the US, we are surrounded by the false security of Wal-Marts and Pizza Huts on our suburban street corners. So we forget to remember our blessings, to feed the hungry and clothe the poor.

On Humanitarian Day, every homeless person is greeted, handed a bag and escorted through the line. Booths of hot food, socks, blankets, are lined with balloons, manned by Muslim vlounteers. As many as 2000 are checked by volunteer doctors, given medication, eye exams.  The atmosphere is festive, a huge celebration, a party in an otherwise miserable life. ” You are so nice, I feel like a human today,” smiled a lady as she tucked newly acquired undergarments into her bag.

“We are fasting and want to share our joy for fasting by feeding the people, loving people, immigrants, indigenous Muslims, universal Muslims, together.” I sat down with Imam Sadiq, the retired Imam of Masjid Ibaadilllah and one of the founders of HD. He, along with Naim Shah Sr. affectionately known as Papa Shah, started feeding the homeless during Ramadan but were urged by the World Trade Center bombings to coordinate a united effort to solve domestic issues. “We don't want to proselytize, we are just concerned about humanity.”

Every year, the dynamics of the homeless change – last year there were many more middle class homeless individuals who had lost their homes due to the recession.  A gentle, proud man, with searing blue eyes, his milk chocolate skin giving away his Caucasian and African heritage, walked up, a polo shirt neatly tucked into his khakis. His wife urged him to take a pair of socks from the booth, “I can't” he said, shoulders slumped in defeat. As he walked away, I saw his laptop carrier slung on his shoulder – Kuwait Oil Co. embroidered in a corner. She reached out, her wedding ring glistened in the sun, “Lord bless you, may I take two?” she asked pragmatically.

There are some familiar faces too, the crack addict whose nails are always done, the old man with coke bottle glasses and a sweet smile. They are friendly and very concerned about each other. I see babies grow up to become children. This is not a place for children. We have billions of dollars to spend on wars across the world, while children sleep on the street and we turn the other way. Omar Ricci, a police officer,  has helped provide security detail for the past ten years. A Muslim, he comes back every year because “this well-planned event shows an alternative image other than the mainstream narrative  of Muslims.”

What would you say to Muslim Americans today, I asked Imam Sadiq, who is also the founder of Islamic Shura Council of Southern California, “We need to stay positive, look past the grievances…the most important thing is to keep being Muslim. People are tired of words, we need not be more vocal but be more active. Actions speak for words.”  Islamophobia was on my mind, as I spoke to the Mormon partners of the coalition, Steve Gilliland and his wife, Judy. They are from the Church of Latter Day Saints' Southern California Public Affairs Council and have supplied the lovingly hand packed school and hygiene kits for HD for seven years. “We have more in common with Muslims, socially, culturally, in areas of health, community service, family values, I could go on for a long time,” the Mormon clergyman advised us to “not let the hate intimidate (us), let people know who Muslims are, to know Muslims is to love them.”

Sister Taswiyah Mutazz is the director of food programs for ILM. “A lot of us are a paycheck away from being on the other side of that line;”  as tears formed in her compassionate eyes, she recounts countless stories of the challenges women and children face on these streets. This was the first year, I heard so many reports of homeless Muslims, men and women, too ashamed to walk into a masjid, without access to a place where their faith can help them recover.

This isn't just a feel good once a year event – these people live near here, they are here every other Sunday with homecooked and sack lunches, sponsored by Muslims communities across Southern California. However, HD 2010 brings demands for a permanent Muslim mission on Skid Row. General Jeff, “the mayor of skid row,“ pleaded on behalf of his community. ” That center near close to ground zero – no disrespect to the victims but 9/11 was a one day disaster, skid row is a lifetime disaster.” “If they are caught sleeping on a bench, they get a ticket, enough tickets earn a warrant, [which] lands them in jail,” stressed Naim Shah, Jr. the Excecutive Director of ILM Foundation. “What we do right now is direct service, now the coalition needs to move and work on policy, find the systamatic cause of why those people are in that line and help change the way people, children, and the elderly are treated. Muslims do not have anything substantial to show about everyday American issues.”

They are dream of a place with a soup kitchen, a mussallah, life assistance programs, where people can take showers, and a shelter for women and children – open 24 hours. A place that breaks the status quo – most missions here are single-room occupancy and do not accept anyone after a 'certain time at night' and make the homeless leave every morning. May their dream become reality. Āmīn.

My girls learn face-to-face how to treat every human with dignity, whether Muslim or not, rich or poor. They didn't just hand out Qurans but follow the mighty example of the Prophet (SAW), who showcased Islam with his blessed behavior, not just words. As I drive the girls back to our cushy homes – they are unusually quiet, thankful, energies well-spent, their fasts finally kicking in.

If you want to start Humanitarian Day in your city – call Imam Sadiq at 626-398-3900 or Naim Shah at 626-644-8291. The Coalition to Preserve Human Dignity will supply you with guidelines, send a crew to show you how to set up the event and train your organization in working with the homeless. Their email address is info@humanitarianday.com

The Muslim Feminist
By Hebah Ahmed

Growing up, I was exposed to a double standard that I assumed was a genuine part of Islam. In my family, as well as my Muslim community, there were differences in the way sons were brought up versus daughters. Boys and men seemed to be afforded a much greater freedom than girls and women. Many of the Muslim women around me worked just as hard at their careers as their husbands, yet when they returned home, the women seemed to bear the brunt of the responsibilities. They cooked, cleaned and took care of the kids, while their husbands sat catatonic in front of the TV, issuing requests and commands to their wives.

As a young child, I never saw my mother complain about her role in life. She had a Masters degree in Civil Engineering and yet my perception of her was very limited. Rather than help her around the house, I added more to her load. I refused to wash my own dishes or pick up after myself, assuming she would take care of it all. At this point in life, I had not yet identified myself with my mother nor begun to compare her present reality to my future one as a Muslim wife.

As I entered high school, the realization finally hit me that when I married and had a family, my fate would probably be similar to that of my mother’s. My mind churned over this newly understood concept. I rebelled, trying to convince my mother that she was doing too much and pleading with my father to do more. He would tell me that this was what women were created for: he truly believed that women had the desire and patience to cook, clean and deal with a screaming child, while men did not. I begged to differ. Internally, I began to develop arguments against his position but I did not have the experience or confidence to boldly confront him. I was still developing my identity and preferred to take on an observer’s perspective, mentally collecting data on the various ways families, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, operated.

Although my father subscribed to what I consider a traditional view of women, he contradicted this view when it came to his daughters. He was the proud father of three intelligent girls whom he constantly pushed to overachievement. My father would always tell me that I could be the best at anything I did and to always aim high.

Once while in second grade, prior to the school’s annual field day, my father gave me a pep talk about the race I was about to run.

“Make sure you set your goal to a point way beyond the finish line. That will ensure that you run hard the entire race and finish strong. Most people set their sights on the finish line and then slow down as they near the end. If you look beyond, then you will always have an advantage.” I did not realize then that this would become an analogy I would use my whole life.

My father was always on us about our school work, and he would quiz us daily on our grades. One day, in third grade, I returned home with apprehension.

“Did you get that quiz back that you took yesterday?” he asked.

“Uh, yes,” I responded with gloom.

“What did you make?” he said with increasing concern.

“Um, well, it was hard.”

“Okay so what did you get?”

“Um…Uh…I got a D.”

“You got a what????”

For the next month my father jokingly nicknamed me “Captain D”. It was his way of reminding me of my failure in order to dissuade me from a repeat. It worked. The nickname irritated me, but rather than get upset or rebel, I developed higher standards for myself and worked hard to regain my father’s respect.

During my sophomore year at my Catholic, all-girls high school I received a letter in the mail inviting me to apply for early admission to college. Since it was a college five hours from home, I assumed my parents would not even consider it. Without even bothering to show my parents, I resigned myself to the fact that this was going to be an unfulfilled opportunity. I was used to limits and strict rules from my parents, so I did not dwell on the letter very long, although I felt a profound sense of loss and disappointment.

As I was throwing the invitation away, my father asked me what it was. I told him and he was immediately (and unexpectedly) encouraging, telling me to apply and see what would happen. I was completely shocked as I realized that my father’s deep love of education and overachievement dwarfed his traditional views on women. The instantaneous switch from a complete sense of loss to a sense of hope and support left me reeling, my mind racing with possibilities I had not yet allowed myself to entertain. I excitedly applied and was accepted. As I timidly showed my father the letter of acceptance, I internally willed him into agreement. Despite my mother’s protests and concerns, my father’s deep pride in my achievements won out. At the age of 15 I was on my way to college!

As I weaved my way through college, I was exposed to many different philosophies and worldviews. I was especially impressionable at the age of 15, having lived a relatively sheltered life. I was thrust into a co-ed environment and began to see the pitfalls of early sexual experimentation and drug abuse among my friends. This reaffirmed my Islamic beliefs on pre-marital sex and abstinence from drugs and alcohol. I stayed up all night debating the merits of religion with atheists who scoffed at my “naiveté”, pushing me to defend my beliefs from a logical and philosophical approach. I read academic books that attempted to define man’s purpose and motivations, arguing man-made systems versus Divine systems. All of these experiences were new to me, and in the end they served to deepen my conviction in Islam.

However, my conviction was incomplete because I was still struggling with an internal conflict. I defined the Islamic view of women by my parents’ relationship. They claimed that they were acting in line with Islam, and yet this meant a view of women that I was not quite able to accept. I began to confront the contradictions of my upbringing, searching for my true identity and role as a Muslim woman. This manifested itself into arguments with my father in an attempt to prove them wrong.

“When you marry you will have to serve your husband just like your mother,” my father would say.

This struck at the root of my identity, since my father had always raised me to aim high yet within the context of marriage he was suddenly asking me to do something that I perceived as settling.

“But I don’t want to live my life like mom! My husband will pick up his plate when he finishes eating and he will wash it! He will change diapers too!”

“If you keep thinking that way you will be divorced for sure,” he would respond.

How could my father tell me to be the best and push me to get the best education money could buy, and then tell me my lot in life was to be subservient to some man?

My internal turmoil increased. I could not give up my identity in Islam, because not only did I have a very strong belief in God and His final revelation, I also appreciated the many logical and beneficial aspects of the Islamic lifestyle. Nevertheless, I was very conflicted over my father’s view of women, which he claimed was preached in Islam. I highly respected my father and was not yet mature enough to admit that his understanding could be mistaken or imperfect; thus I was unable to merely reject his position. Instead, the conflict seemed to create a split personality inside me. I upheld and acted on one set of beliefs in line with my father’s teachings at home, fearing I would otherwise be turning my back on Islam or disappointing my father, while developing a much more analytical and questioning attitude when away at school.

This conflicting value system came to a head in graduate school. I lived by myself, which gave me the time and confidence to really think through my life philosophy and goals. I always believed in the basic beliefs of Islam, to worship only One God, the Creator of all, and to follow the way of His Prophets. It was the practical application and human example I struggled with. I began to regularly attend the weekly prayer services at the local masjid and meet other Muslim girls. Many of them wore the hijab (headscarf) and had attended Islamic schools prior to college. Their conviction intrigued me and I began to ask questions.

Zoha, one of the Muslim girls who became a close friend, loaned me a book** on the life of Prophet Muhammed (SAWS), set 1400 years prior to my time. It was the first time I had ever read a book about him and it changed my life.

As I read the pages, I felt my world had been turned upside down. The manners Prophet Muhammed (SAWS) exhibited and the compassionate, giving manner in which he interacted with people brought me to tears repeatedly. I began to compare the Muslim men I knew to the way Prophet Muhammed (SAWS) was, and it left me confused and doubtful. Either the book was a lie or somehow the men I knew had veered way off track.

Then I began to read about a woman named Khadijah (RAA). According to the book, she was a 40 year old woman** of great nobility, a widow and a very wealthy businesswoman who employed men to take her goods and trade them abroad. After hiring Prophet Muhammed (SAWS) as one of her traders, and observing his impeccable manners and actions, she sought him out in marriage. Although he was 15 years her junior, he happily agreed to her proposal. She was the love of his life (as he was hers), and the accounts of his home life with her would make any woman jealous.

Upon reading this story, I felt something change inside of me. Tears gushed from my eyes and a deep sense of awe, relief and empowerment overtook me. Could this be true? The wife of our revered Prophet, the example for all men, was a wealthy businesswoman who was older than him and had proposed marriage to him? Is this marriage really the example that all Muslim couples should be following?

“This is true feminism!” my mind screamed. “This is the missing piece, the solution to the contradiction I have been feeling in my belief. This is the religion I love!” I was finally able to accept that my father’s view of women was partially based on his cultural upbringing. The Islamic perspective, as displayed in the Quran and life of Prophet Muhammed (SAWS), was something different, something respectful, honoring and completely validating.

It was then that I swore to myself that if I ever had a daughter I would name her Khadijah.

That point in my life, that deep epiphany, was the beginning of my real journey to Islam. It was the point when I finally saw the difference between the cultural Islam I was raised in and the true Islam based on the authentic texts. I began to see that whenever I visited my Muslim relatives, it was their ignorance of Islam and preference towards cultural innovations that created the inequality of the sexes. Such ignorance was the reason for actions such as honor killings and abuse of women occurring in the Muslim world, and they were in contradiction to the teachings of the Quran and the example set by Prophet Muhammed (SAWS).

At last I had achieved the inner peace that comes with the synergy between one’s beliefs, one’s logic and one’s relationships. I was flooded with a deep sense of liberation and relief. After searching so sincerely and wading through the enormous pressures and contradicting perspectives of life, I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. I had found the truth: a faith I could fully submit to without hesitation or doubt, knowing that my Creator understood me so completely and gave me true guidance that would not fail me. This pushed me to commit to a life of learning and practicing Islam based on the authentic sources and teachings, rather than based on man-made systems that result in injustice and oppression.

It is this true Islam that I am now teaching my precious daughter, Khadijah.

And yes, my husband picks up his plate and washes it, ignoring my father’s protests. He also has changed his fair share of dirty diapers.

______________

*The book I refer to is called “Muhammed: His Life based on the Earliest Sources” by Martin Lings.

**There is a disagreement over Khadijah’s (RAA) exact age among the scholars. In the book she was described as being 40, 15 years older than Prophet Muhammed (SAWS).

I have composed what I believe to be the Ten Best Islamic Video Lectures published across the net up till now. I’ve restricted the list to filmed lectures and those that have been addressed in the English language*. I ask that both Arabic and Urdu speakers forgive me, as I am a well-developed coconut. There are many beneficial speeches that have not been recorded in the presence of a video camera, so in the future I hope to construct an audio-only list, insha’Allāh.

Undoubtedly, many of you will disagree with some of my selections and ordering. Nevertheless, compiling this list wasn’t easy. Everybody has their favourites. And in reality, nobody should preference the work of any orator conveying authentic and beneficial knowledge. I ask Allāh subhana wa t’ala to grant all of the Shayukh and Du’at sincerity, to bless them for all their work, to forgive them, and to grant them and their families the highest level of paradise, āmīn.

Finally, I remind everyone not to take this list seriously. This wasn’t compiled for an Academy Award Show – Islamic lectures are not entertainment. The selected speeches have been chosen from my own personal bias. These are merely recommendations for beginners seeking elementary-level knowledge or for those desiring for an emaan boost. I ask Allāh aza wa jaal to allow this list to benefit Muslims and non-Muslims everywhere.

Top 10

10. “Taking Back Our Narrative” by Nouman Ali Khan and Amir Abdel Malik

Click here to view the embedded video.

09. “Islamic Spirit of the Past” by Shaykh Ahmed Ali

Click here to view the embedded video.

08. “How the Bible Led Me to Islam” by Brother Joshua Evans

Click here to view the embedded video.

07. “Islam and Ego” by Brother Nouman Ali Khan

Click here to view the embedded video.

06. “Media and Islam: War or Peace?” by Dr. Zakir Naik

Click here to view the embedded video.

05. “Global Peace & Unity Conference 2006” by Imam Suhaib Webb

Click here to view the embedded video.

04. “The Blessings of Emaan” by Shaykh Yasir Qadhi

Click here to view the embedded video.

03. “Understanding Your Condition” by Shaykh Abdullah Hakim Quick

Click here to view the embedded video.

02. “The Purpose of Life” by Shaykh Khalid Yasin

Click here to view the embedded video.

01. “My Story” by Imam Siraj Wahhaj

Click here to view the embedded video.

RUNNER-UPS (in no particular order):

“The Coca Cola Muslim Generation” by Brother Abdur Raheem Green

“The Journey of Worship” by Shaykh Yasir Qadhi

“Perished Nations” by Shaykh Muhammad Alshareef

“Making Sense of Our Past” by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf

“Pray Before You Are Prayed Upon” by Brother Abdur Raheem Green

“Heroes of Islam” by Shaykh Zahir Mahmood

“Self-Image Psychology” by Shaykh Yassir Fazaga

“Empire of Deceit” by Dr. Bilal Philips

“Oneness of God” by Dr. Bilal Philips

“Defenders of the Faith” by Shaykh Ali al-Tamimi

“Differences in Opinions & How to Unify Ourselves” by Shaykh Haitham al-Haddad

“Strengthening One's Memory” by Shaykh Kamal el-Mekki

“Ghuraba (Strangers)” by Khalid Yasin

“Divine Speech” by Nouman Ali Khan

“What do you mean Muhammad is the messenger of Allāh?” by Sh. Abu Taubah

“Interview with former Rap Artist Amir Junaid Muhadith” by The Deen Show

“Debate: Islam or Secular Liberalism?” by Brother Hamza Andreas Tzortzis

“Hiroshima to London: Violence and Our Collective Future” by Imam Zaid Shakir

“Young American’s attitude toward the Qur’an” by Nouman Ali Khan

“How I converted to Islam” by Sheikh Yusuf Estes

*The self-imposed language restriction (as well as my own language limitations) also led me to discount our beloved heavyweight scholars like Dr. Farhat Hashmi, Shaykh Yusuf Al-Qaradawi, Mufti Taqi Usmani, Shaykh Saleh Al-Munajjid, may Allāh preserve them, as well as late contemporary scholars that have passed, such as Sheikh Ash-Shanqeeti and Dr. Israr Ahmed, may Allāh have mercy on them.

Note from MM: As the author notes these are his favorites- not the MM staff's.

There seems to be an obsession with conspiracy theories among young Muslims these days. For some strange reason, Muslims seem to look for secret messages in almost everything. From cartoons to people's names, nothing is innocent and all seem to be part of a secret plot of some underworld organization.

From an Islamic perspective, it is not proper for Muslims to dwell on conspiracy theories. Islam teaches us to focus our efforts on Ilm-Naafi - knowledge that benefits us and not to get involved in Laghw – useless discussions. For the most part, conspiracy theories are useless discussions in which we cannot prove the conspiracy to be true or not, and even if you can, the information gained can seldom help you gain closeness to Allāh or benefit you in anyway. Conspiracy theories in general fall into the category of Laghw and waste precious time that could be spent in more beneficial activities.

I have identified a few reasons why Muslims seem to be obsessed with conspiracy theories:

1. To find somebody else to blame for our mistakes:

Some Muslims don't want to accept the fact that we are in the situation we are in because of our disobedience of Allāh or deviation from the straight path. Such Muslims tend to look for a scapegoat to blame for their mistakes, and conspiracy theories provide enough of these. If you look at the people who tend to be obsessed with conspiracy theories, many of them are generally not knowledgable or practicing Muslims. It is not uncommon to find Muslims discussing how the Jews or Illuminati are the cause of all their problems and miss a ṣalāh due to the discussion.

Solution: The Qur'an does not teach us to blame others for our problems. It teaches us to strive to please Allāh and then He will assist us in solving our problems. It would be better to utilize our time to watch Islamic lectures instead of a conspiracy documentary, and to pray and strive to implement our knowledge than to sit around discussing who was behind an earthquake or flood and how they caused it.

2. Boredom, not utilizing time properly

Many Muslims try to find ways to kill time, as if time needs killing. You'd think with all the problems in our lives, our own sins and weaknesses, we'd have a lot more important things to do than kill time. Sadly, many Muslims suffer from boredom and thus browse YouTube for something to kill time. It is during these moments in which they wanted to kill ten minutes that they discover a conspiracy theory video which ends up eating up hours and sometimes days of their lives as they watch, rewatch, discuss and obsess over it.

Solution: Utilize your time properly and wisely. There is so much that we need to do that we really should not have time to kill. If you are bored and decide to surf YouTube, then it would be better to spend your time watching Islamic lectures or if you need to relax, a nasheed video. Just don't give Shaytaan a chance to trap you into an obsession that can waste hours of precious time.

3. Lack of understanding of the religion

Some Muslims are sincere and trying to practice their religion, but due to ignorance, they mistake conspiracy theory videos for Islamic videos. I often find Islamic DVD stalls stocked with almost only conspiracy theory videos, most of them by Non-Muslims too. This shows a lack of understanding as to what is Islamic knowledge and also what is beneficial knowledge.

Solution: Consult scholars and learn from them what constitutes beneficial knowledge. Oh, and make sure the Islamic DVDs you buy are really Islamic.

I am sure there are many other reasons why Muslims love conspiracy theories, maybe someone else can help me understand this obsession.

Some of these conspiracy theories can be very funny.  Take a look at the following examples:

1. Coca Cola backwards is 'Laa Muhammad, Laa Makkah' which means 'No Muhamammad, No Makkah'.

This one circulates a lot via email and it seems that many Muslims seem to believe it (why else would they forward the email), yet it is extremely illogical. Why would someone when naming a soft drink, try and decide what is 'No Muhammad, No Makkah' backwards with the backwards word being Arabic and the forward word being English? Furthermore, even if you squint and twist the letters, you still can't see it. The closest you get is maybe 'Lee Muhammad, Lee Makkah', meaning 'for Muhammad, For Makkah', which makes me wonder why conspiracy theories are never pro-Muslim or positive?

Looking at words backwards to find secret messages can be very dangerous as then one can find hidden messages in good words like god and live. In fact, one can even deduce that Godzilla is a Muslim's pet as Godzilla backwards is Alliz dog.

2. Zakumi is named after a tree in Hell

Before the World Cup occurred, I heard during a Jumu'ah lecture that one of the reasons the World Cup is haraam is because its mascot is named after a tree in Hellfire, Shajaratuz-Zaqqum. Firstly, Zaqqum and Zakumi are not the same word. Secondly, nobody names their mascot after a tree in Hell in any language; I doubt the people who named him even know Arabic or what Zaqqum is. Finally, Zakumi means SA2010, that is all it means, No hidden messages, no hidden agendas, except to sell more World Cup merchandise.

3. Pokemon means Poke Imaan

Firstly, Pokemon means pocket monsters. Secondly, what does poke Imaan mean? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? And finally, how do you poke Imaan if it does not have a Facebook account?

Can splitting a name really expose hidden messages? If thats the case, let us look at the word Wahhabi and I'll show you how easy it is to invent a conspiracy theory and get caught up in it. Note the following is fictional humor:

Wahhabi is actually two words Wa and Hubby, Wa is the Arabic for 'and' while hubby is English slang for husband, so wahhabies actually means 'and husbands' this is because the Wahabbi movement is actually a cover for polygamous Muslim men wanting to take multiple wives. This also explains why many Westerners dislike wa-hubbies, because they are anti-polygamy!

So what do we learn from this? Lets not waste our lives looking at words backwards, or splitting names to find secret messages. Let us focus our brain power on learning, understanding and implementing Islam our lives. This will be more beneficial for us in this world and the Afterlife.

Recently, a Muslim sister sent me an email about an incident that “traumatised” her. She came to attend one of my talks and was greeted with “smug faces.” She continues that she is not overly devout, does not wear a scarf but prays as much as she can and wishes to improve.  As with all of us, at one time or another, she was dealing with a personal tragedy and hardship. After hearing that my talk at the University of Western Australia was titled, “Overcoming a Calamity –An Islamic Self Help Guide to Reformation and Happiness,” she decided that she had to attend. Alhamdulillah, she felt comfortable enough to email me about her experience. Sadly, others simply do not comeback.

All of us, in one way or another, can attest to the fact that ignorance breeds fear.  Hatred and intolerance are usually quick to follow.  An ordinary day can quickly turn to a distasteful night when one encounters an uninformed, ill-mannered individual.  In those situations, anything can happen.

A young Muslim, who does not wear hijab, for instance, may be made to feel uncomfortable while attending an Islamic lecture or course.  Condescending looks, snide smirks, rolled eyes, bullish “dawa” target her.

A young brother, never taught to pray properly at home, is scolded for “not following the Sunnah.”

A new Muslim is kissed and hugged after declaring his testimony of Faith.  Years later, he struggles to find a family to accept his genuine interest in their daughter.

A community member delivers a Jum’ah Khutbah at a local mosque. He, for whatever reason misspoke, as a consequence the whole masjid is deemed a place of heresy and Bidah.

It happens all the time in our community. Not just to our community, but rather, within our domain of action and authority.  In our Islamic Societies, MSAs, Musallah prayer halls, Islamic camps, and public lectures, Muslims at times make other Muslims feel insignificant and marginalised. At times, we can, through our insensitivity and bigotry, make other Muslims feel uncomfortable, unwelcome and unloved.

We, individually and collectively, judge people all the time.  We do so, at times, as subtly and reflexively as a wave of our hand to shoo away an obnoxious fly.

Simply put, we break the golden rule. We do not treat others the way we want to be treated. We do not love for our brothers and sisters what we love for our self.

That in fact is a spiritual calamity.  The Prophet sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam (my prayers of Peace and Mercy of Allāh be upon Him) cautioned us implicitly and explicitly about judging others reflexively. Equally, he warned us of taking that huge plunge into the abyss of conceitedness and false pride in oneself.

Allāh, The Al-Mighty describes the Prophet Muhammed (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) in Surat at-Taubah 9:128

“Verily, there has come unto you a Messenger from amongst yourselves. It grieves him that you should receive any injury or difficulty. He is anxious over you; for the believers (he is) full of pity, kind, and merciful. “

In the third Chapter of the Quran Allāh illuminates the nature of the Prophet and his natural inclination and disposition, (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam).

“And by the Mercy of Allāh, you dealt with them gently. And had you been severe and harsh­hearted, they would have broken away from about you; so pass over (their faults), and ask (Allāh's) Forgiveness for them; and consult them in the affairs. Then when you have taken a decision, put your trust in Allāh, certainly, Allāh loves those who put their trust (in Him).” Ali Imran 3:159

Upon reflection, these verses are aimed at the Ummah of the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam). The intent is not to simply embellish the fame of the Prophet of Mercy (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam).  Simply, the aim is to build in the Ummah a desire to recreate the modality and conduct of the Messenger of Allāh within our domain of authority and oversight.

Can you imagine Abu Bakr or ‘Ali, ‘Umar or Khalid, Allāh be pleased with them all, breaking away from the Messenger of Allāh?  Harshness, severity of consequence, dwelling on the past, hindering progress, lack of consultation, harbouring suspicion and exposing faults would have driven the most pious of the Ummah away from the spring of mercy, Muhammed (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam).

One day a man entered into the Prophet Muhammed’s mosque as the sahaba and the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) were assembled after prayer.  The man walks into the midst of the companions and in front of the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) he begins to relieve himself.

The companions rose up in anger and were about to beat him for his vulgarity. Immediately the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) called out to his companions to settle down and let the man finish urinating.  When he had finished, Muhammad (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) called him over and said:

“These mosques are not suitable places for urine and filth, but are only for worshipping Allāh, remembrance of Allāh, prayer and recitation of the Quran. Do not do this again.”

Then the Messenger of Allāh, Muhammad (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) gave orders to one of his companions to bring a bucket and pour water over it.

Upon witnessing this, the man supplicated the Al Mighty Allāh, “O Allāh! Have mercy only on me and Muhammad, O Allāh! Forgive only me and Muhammad.”

The Prophet Muhammad (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) smiled and corrected the man, “Do not confine the limitless! You have constricted the vastness (of Allāh’s Mercy) into narrowness.”

The bedouin entered the mosque with animosity and hatred.  Later he would declare that before this incident, he hated none greater than the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam).  After the encounter, he loved none more than the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) .

Why?

Mercy, forbearance, kindness and genuine love for his fellow man are hallmarks of the Messenger of Allāh (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam).

That is the mark of the believer.

The Sahaba were not infallible.  We forget that living amongst the Prophet (sala Allahu alihi wasSalaam) and amongst his noble companions, there were those who were sinners, adulterers, alcoholics and hypocrites.

A man approaches the Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam), as Abu Dawoud collects in his Sunnan, and tries to confess an indiscretion as the prayers are about to begin.  The Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) tells him to wait until the prayers are over.  As the Messenger of Allāh is leaving the masjid the man approaches again. The Prophet (sala Allahu ‘alihi wasSalaam) does not entertain his request and simply says that the prayer he just performed is expiation along with his sincere repentance to Allāh.

Allāh the Almighty says, “Make allowances for people, command what is right, and turn away from the ignorant.” (7:199)

The Sunnah is love and forgiveness.

The Sunnah is clemency and sincerity.

The Sunnah is putting others first.

The Sunnah is easy to read about, difficult to implement, except for those whom Allāh has granted Mercy.

Islam is a way of life that is not built on ostentation and showiness. The apparent aspects of the different acts of worship are, according to Islam, meaningless unless they are motivated by sincerity and devotion to Allāh and the service of others. True worship, when sincerely motivated, produces effects within the individual's heart which result, amongst other things, in righteous and just conduct with others.

Why do we see in others what we fail to see in ourselves?  How is it that we can overlook other person’s feelings so readily and easily?  Why does it take us so long to admit to someone that we wronged them? How often do we misrepresent an occurrence or embellish a story?  Why can we comment on others, and feel disheartened when we discover the same being done to us?

The answer, simple as it is, is that our heart is not truly attached to Allāh.  It is veiled behind self-praise, obscured by hate and clouded with jealousy.

The closer you draw to Allāh, the more virtuous you become in your conduct with His creation.  The more careful and precise you are in your dealings with Allāh, the more reliable your character becomes.  As a general principle – Tawheed builds character.

Often, we overestimate our nearness to Allāh and become subconsciously complacent.  Our private worship of Allāh weakens.  This resulting darkness settles and permeates upon our spiritual heart.

We sin with our heart long before we sin with our actions.  The root of all righteous conduct is the heart and the sincerity it contains.  It is the pure heart that guides to righteousness and becomes a compass for others to find their way to Allāh.  It is the soft heart that shelters others and conceals their indiscretions.   It is the bright heart that resonates with the Quran and its meaning, and finds solace and comforting tranquillity in the remembrance and daily devotions.  It is the heart wherein faith takes root and manifests its reality in our conduct.

Equally, the root of all evil is the heart that is dark and spiritually dead.  It is that heart that will contain racism, love of excess, and distain for the needy.  It is that dark heart that absorbs rumours and spreads gossip.  It is the dim heart that relishes the failure of others and seeks praise and recognition – even if undeserved.  It is that hard heart that elates in vulgarity and is slow to repentance.  It is this pitiful heart that cannot recognise, see or feel the truth. That is the heart that Allāh has sealed.

So, how clean is your heart?

An Analytical Model For Media Output

If I have one overarching principle in my media analysis work, it's this: effective media output is about understanding user behavior to meet needs. Whether it's porn or a movie schedule or looking up a recipe or researching new tires, people seek out the information contained in media to solve a problem or meet a need.

Content is, in a strict sense, independent from the form or delivery method that carries it (media), though the two share an increasingly symbiotic relationship. For example, to look at movie times, I have a variety of distinct options: I can check online, look at the newspaper, call the theater on the telephone or download an iPhone app.

Content is just a part of what people seek to ultimately meet a given need; media or platform is solving the problem of how they want to meet it.

Your press release or blog post or web site– no matter how effective and targeted it may be — isn't the end game; fulfilling your audience's need is, solving their problem is.

I approach the entire process through an active, behavioral lens, with that user's need always in target:

• 1)What are your users really wanting to do,

and

• 2) How are they wanting or trying to do it?

Then measure your press release or media output or blog against the above two questions by asking yourself:

• 3) How far does my content (and the platform that it is on) go toward meeting their needs?

Think about usability issues here as well: is it easy to find, understand, reshare on social media, rewrite (for a press release) learn more about?

Whether you're planning some simple grassroots steps, blogging, designing a web site, writing an article or press release, or preparing for an interfaith lecture, this kind of analytical model is useful because it forces you to evaluate your output in terms of solving the target audience's problems. It doesn't matter how well you write if you're not identifying deep issues and offering palpable solutions.

It also helps identify any weak links or loose threads: sometimes you'll find either the message won't adequately address the need, or perhaps it will but the platform doesn't. Or, as in the underutilized Facebook and Twitter examples from the last post, you may also have tools at your disposal that are well proven to help meet needs (2, above), but no specific needs have been identified (1) nor content or good practices employed (3).

This model is run through from the perspective of your targeted audience to see if your planned output meets all the listed criteria. Then run it again, this time putting back on your Muslim-media-producer shoes by replacing the 'what are they' phrases in the above questions with 'what am I': what am I truly trying to do with this press release, is the release itself adequate, would a tweet be better for what I'm trying to convey? Rewrite, adjust, run the models again. Achieve the best balance between the perspectives that you can.

The Need Of Non-Muslims

The need of the non-Muslim, on an individual level, to better understand Muslims — a central challenge within this series' title –has been examined up to now in terms of meeting our own need of reclaiming our perception, but it's also a real, tangible need for non-Muslims.

Review everything covered in this series so far — the lack of grassroots civic involvement, a self-referential Islamosphere, and a less-than-stellar level of engagement with non-Muslims through media, ranging from oppositional stances to ineffective messages — from the point of view of a non-Muslim that's asking questions, seeking answers, turning to us for guidance, and it's clear we're not meeting that need, either.

We're not building bridges, and this failure only furthers the level of distrust and frustration the non-Muslims may feel about our community.

Viewing all the strategies and techniques discussed so far though a non-Muslim lens puts the final polish on any civic or media engagement we undertake.

Listening

Earlier I pointed out the reticence adopted by Dr. Assaf in his blog post following Ft. Hood. When his post was also placed on NJ Voices, here's some of the response he garnered:

jerseyopine wrote:

After every violent Muslim aggression/association we hear 2 things- 1) Islam is a peaceful religion, & 2) Muslims fear a “backlash” after whatever recent Muslim activist violence has occurred.

And I wonder why isn't the peaceful Muslim community sending out a strong message to the public throughout the year- an ongoing public condemnation against such acts of violence? An ongoing reinforcement of Islamic values that repudiates terrorist murders in the name of the Muslim faith?

It seems the 'aftermath' Muslim leader public comments are only some half hearted rebuttals in reaction to potential fear of some discrimination. The concern seems more about negative public feelings that may cause inconvenience to Muslims. Where is heartfelt remorse, indignation, & condemnation? Reminding yourself and reporters of anti-violent Quranic verse is not sending too much of a statement here.

Posted by BanditGuy:

don't know much about the Muslim religion, nor do many Americans, and that is a failing of organizations like yours. But I think I understand that Islam is not hierarchical. So, perhaps it's not easy to present a “united front.” Nobody is in overall charge. That does not mean, however, that organizations such as yours could not coordinate your efforts in getting your message out. If you fail to do so, you will continue to be looked on with suspicion by many. You, as an American, should understand the power of public relations. As Christians like to quote, “The Lord helps him who helps himself.”

Later the same commenter writes:

If Muslims/Arabs/Farsi and the rest want greater understanding of their culture and religion, it's going to be up to them to see that that happens. Perhaps a national organization that could explain the mysteries of Islam could be created. It could start by condemning with a single voice fanatical Muslim atrocities (I know that this will be difficult culturally but necessary). It could also proclaim for all to hear it's belief in Israel's right to exist. When this happens, I will begin to suspect that Middle-Eastern Americans are truly Americans first and Muslims/Arabs/Farsi etc. second.

When Muslimmatters.org covered the Swiss minaret affair, here are some responses:

iMuslim: “I'm not saying we shouldn't assert ourselves, but if the neighbours of the original mosque project were offended by something as benign as a minaret, that should signal alarm bells to the Muslim community, and lead to the decision: “let's talk to our neighbours, and address their fears”. Not: “let's fight this in the courts, and risk the problem going national”.”

Muslim Apple: “I take this situation as a wakeup call for myself within my own community and spheres of influence that if my neighbors, friends, coworkers, classmates, and others are afraid of me or afraid of Islam that I have not lived the life of a Muslim to convey the message. Even though we will never be able to please everyone but if half on those concerned enough to vote feel comfortable passing measures like this or other ones, we haven't done our job effectively.”

Jeff: “I am ashamed to say I may even have felt the same way if something hadn't happened to me two years ago. I met an actual Muslim. Since then I have made many Muslim friends. I may not agree with all aspects of Islam, but all the Muslims I have met are kind, decent, hardworking people.”

Note how in the examples listed above, all the steps discussed to date in this series could help in meeting these concerns. There are thousands of similar comments and examples from this year's current events as well, too numerous to list here.

It serves no purpose to have platforms for input and comments and then ignore those conversations. Muslim institutions involved in media output need to be sifting through the dialogues in the Islamosphere, other interfaith blogs, and regular online news coverage. ldentify recurring concerns and questions, look for the larger patterns of inquiry — that unmet need — then build a response or PR/social media campaign around it.

At an individual level, get involved, engage responsibly and respectfully on those articles and comments (see postscript below for commenting tips).

Listen, then leverage.

Conclusion

In context of this series, there are a number of broad needs trying to be met that have been addressed: that of Muslims trying to clarify and broaden their identity as perceived by non-Muslims; that of mainstream media news outlets to have easy access to clear information on Muslim issues; and that of Muslim organizations to provide a clear, effective outreach.

The needs of Muslims and non-Muslims are actually very close: the need to be better understood, and the need to better understand; that newsrooms need stories, and Muslims need their stories told.

The good news is these aren't mutually exclusive: By helping to meet the needs of the other participants and constituents in these equations, our own need to reclaim the perception of Muslims gets met as well. Helping others, we help ourselves.

Such closely shared objectives give me a great sense of optimism that a better perception of Muslims can be created, if we're willing to step up to the plate and do our end of the work, build those bridges to close the gap.

Hopefully, some of the ideas passed on in this series can help make that work easier to achieve.

Postscript: Dealing With Comments

Allowing comments on your blog is a big step, and while I think most Islamic blogs should, I certainly respect the choice not to. Long and short: If you're not willing to commit the considerable time and effort to actively monitor and focus the discussions, then don't do it at all. It is far better to not go there, in my view, than to do it poorly or leave those discussions unattended.

That said, here are some pointers if you do decide to go there, or if you want to engage on other blogs or articles.

There are a number of sites and resources for commenting best practices, but in a nutshell, a) clearly posted rules of engagement, b) strict and consistent enforcement of those policies, c) and active monitoring and engaging with the commenters yourself are sound strategies to adopt for starters.

Non-Muslim commenters on the Islamosphere tend to fall into two categories: those with a genuine interest in seeking information, and those who just want to inflame. The latter you do not want any protracted engagement with, but you do need to address such commenters, and identify and draw them out as early as possible.

If you get flamed:

• 1: Take a step back. Do a quick zikr. Don't get caught in the emotional moment of the attack; wait five minutes before hitting the 'send' button on your reply. Your calmness of response will disarm their fear and anger, usually the underlying source of such attacks.
• 2: Avoid the trap of trying to be the official sound for all Muslims. Bookmark in advance some sources you trust that you can point people to, as either reinforcement or if you feel that those sources articulate some issue better than you can. Don't try to be the official Muslim representative for the enitre ummah; just be a true representative of yourself, and share that personal truth.
• 3. Humanize. Speak personally; tell your own story or experience if it can apply; describe in personal terms your own take on the issue.
• 4: Avoid the “verse wars.” There are way too many threads on the Islamosphere where Qur'an and Bible verses are lobbed at each other all day. If you do get hit with such posts, then combine the techniques above: strongly advocate your own personal take on it and acknowledge that there may be differing views in the Islamosphere. Leave it at that.*
• 5: This comes from (and full credit goes to) Haroon Moghul, who covered this point at the ICNYU conference earlier in the year: avoid loaded terms like jihad, terrorist, etc. Moghul rightly assesses that such words are by now so loaded with weight and meaning and subtext, any message you offer that incorporates such terms is immediately and already lost.
• 6: Develop a sense of discernment to the true motivation behind provocative comments, i.e., try to “read between the lines.” Semiotics and psychology are good fields to help in this, as is the analysis model at the top of this post — read their comment and your draft of a reply through that checklist.

If their intent is not clear, then draw them out, and take a higher, calmer ground in your response. Respond, by using some of the following sample templates, in your own words. These aren't written in a way to recopy, but to provide a kind of mindset to get into:

If you truly want an answer to your concerns, then I'm happy to answer as best I can, with the understanding that I don't represent the full range of thought and ideas across 1.5 billion Muslims, just as you may not wish to speak for every Christian, be they Catholic, Evangelical, Protestant or Baptist. What I can't answer, I'll try to point you to sources that I feel are sound and reasonable.

If on the other hand, you are here to instigate or flame, I won't play. You and I both know that kind of exchange won't lead to any greater understanding or appreciation of each other's perspective, and I'd rather find out what's *really* concerning you about Muslims.

So how can I help? Now that you've said how you feel, can you explain what you're really worried about?

This takes you off of the defensive and puts the onus on the commenter to clarify their position and intent.

Some commenters may have genuine concerns or issues that are hidden underneath a layer of fear that presents itself as aggressive language. This kind of proposed answer gives them a chance to work through and better frame their issues.

True Islamophobes or trolls will either stop, or keep attacking — but if they do, they've exposed themselves by not fashioning their response under the terms you've requested. You can ban them from that point.

* If you have to answer with a verse, here are some that I've found pretty consistently effective in disarming a lot of heat, especially if you personalize it: (“This is MY Qu'ran!”):

Verily, Allāh will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves. 13:11

Have you seen him who denies Judgment? That is the one who repulses the orphan and urges not the feeding of the needy. Woe to those that pray and are unmindful of their Prayer, those who want to be seen, and who refuse small kindnesses. 107:1-5

Do not let your hatred of a people incite you to aggression. 5:2.

Unto every one of you We have appointed a (different) law and way of life. And if God had so willed, He could surely have made you all one single community: but (He willed it otherwise) in order to test you by means of what He has vouchsafed unto you. Vie, then, with one another in doing good works. Unto God you all must return; and then He will make you truly understand all that on which you were wont to differ. 5:48

Repel the evil deed with the one that is better. Then lo! He with whom you shared enmity will become as though he was a bosom friend. 41:34

We believe in God and what has been sent down to us, what has been revealed to Abraham and Ismael and Isaac and Jacob and their offspring and what was given to Moses and Jesus and all other Prophets by the Creator, and we make no distinction between them. 2:136

Truly, those who attain to faith in this Word as well as those who follow the Jewish faith and the Sabians and the Christians—and those who have faith in God, and the Final Day and do righteous deeds—no fear need they have and neither shall they grieve. 5:69

Let's look at how media outlets function, and why the Islamosphere to date doesn't mesh as well as it could with how a news operation works and what it seeks.

How Media Works

News coverage stems from covering urgent breaking news, ongoing city or state developments, responding to tips or actively seeking local interesting stories.

In the morning news meeting, the assignment desk editor briefs the staff on any local goings-on (the mayor is having a press conference, a city councilor sent out an email, the school superintendent is holding a board meeting, etc). The assignment editor gets this information usually from press releases sent out by organizations or offices.

Reporters then go around the table and pitch their story ideas, either from their own sources, new e-mails or calls they've received, or else their perusal of local area blogs or other news outlets.

From all of that input, news directors and producers decide what stories get prioritized. It's a matter of trying to fit resources; there are only so many reporters and photographers to go around on any given day and news stories may be spread out over a far distance, or may occur to close together to gather (if there are 2 pressers and an opening ceremony all at 3 p.m., something probably has to give).

What makes the cut is decided on deployment of those resources, what might be of paramount interest to viewers, and often — most importantly — if there's a way to personalize it, to have some emotional glue, to make a story of it rather than just chronicling a news event. A good newsroom tries to avoid having only 'official sound' whenever possible; it should be balanced by a personal story or reaction, how some new measure by the mayor or city government affects an individual, a personalized account of its impact.

“Why should I care” is a question often asked back to reporters at the meeting, to make them search for and articulate that connective angle.

In a breaking news scenario, the general m.o. is to gather facts first, then personal impact and official reaction (or vice versa, depending on who's saying what when). If its an intriguing personal story that got pitched — via email, noticed on a blog or other source — then the reporter will confirm the facts via another source or subject involved in the story, and may look for other 'official sound' if needed (such as in consumer complaints stories, the reporter will go to the company involved in the alleged problem).

But notice in either case the importance of the human dimension, the personal story. Notice also how this meshes with the side benefits of the activities advocated in the earlier post: that by raising the civic presence and activity, you're also helping create a bank of small, alternative Muslim stories, alternative experiences of Muslims.

It's another grassroots-level blogging point that one can engage here: if you're a Muslim blogger starting to write on civic issues, don't be afraid at some point to chronicle those stories of Muslim civic engagement.

I must emphasize that this is in no way to be construed that civic duty should carry an ulterior motive. Just be aware that demystifying yourself to your community, showing in action that you genuinely care about and are willing to work for your civic betterment, may have a ripple effect beyond the all-important human-to-human connection that's so paramount to build right now.

It varies from newsroom to newsroom and reporter to reporter, but the blogosphere is probably lower on the list of sources when they're assembling info or looking for stories. That said, there are ways you can move that up the chain — by either demonstrating you have an interesting personal story yourself (or becoming aware of another one you can pitch), and/or being known as a particular credentialed voice.

Muslims And The Media

But do most Muslims really want to be that kind of long-term voice? Sadly, no, and it's my belief that this mindset must change.

There is an extreme reticence among Muslim leaders to develop a lasting relationship with the press.

In a post following up on Ft. Hood on TAM, Sheila Musaji wrote :

In the meantime, I cringe every time someone asks me to explain why Maj. Hasan or any other Muslim criminal has committed some reprehensible act. I don't know why. … Actually, I am amazed that intelligent people could possibly believe that it makes sense to ask any random Muslim to explain the actions of any one of the other 1.5 billion Muslims on earth, as if we are connected to each other like the Borg.

Dr. Aref Assaf, president of the American Arab Forum, expressed similar sentiments (among some otherwise excellent points) in his article “Please Do Not Call Me! Being an American Muslim when tragedy strikes“: “I'm utterly hurt and profoundly burdened by implications and the frequency of these questions from media outlets whenever some lunatic Muslim decides to commit a random act of violence,” he writes.

It's a sentiment I genuinely respect, understand, and often feel as well; but keeping a larger endgame in view of bridge-building to a wider circle could help Muslim voices to push beyond this reaction.

Assaf articulates the uneasy relationship most Muslim voices have with the media:

I recall while talking to an editor of a large NJ paper, I wondered if my name was on their reporters' hot list of people to call only whenever Muslim kill or bomb something around the world. I pleadingly, asked if he would ever consider calling me to comment on such trivial issues as my views on school choice, on my ever rising property taxes, on traffic hurdles. He almost innocently admitted that he has been so conditioned to think of me only as an Arab and a Muslim, not as a concerned and a taxpaying citizen who also worries about the environment, white collar crime, and political corruption.

But, as in any relationship, Muslims have to own their part — and the kind of personal civic activity I've advocated in the previous post and this one can help immeasurably to overcome the singular view of Muslims by the media. But it takes work: Dr. Assaf's wish to be called on other civic issues won't come true unless Muslims overcome their separatist stance and demonstrate that such concerns are germane to Muslims as well. We can't have it both ways.

From a media point of view, our isolationism has sent a very mixed message, the outcome of which can be seen in media's reluctance to view us as citizens. And while it may seem unfair that we're not randomly called upon to share our civic views, our reluctance to participate as citizens means we have more work to do to overcome that perception. To establish a genuine civic concern and presence by Muslims and to increase the visibility of that presence can only by accomplished by deed.

The Muslim community has the ability and the power to reclaim and reset its identity (whether we have the will to do so by overcoming our isolationism and do good works for our cities and neighbors is another question, but I'm genuinely optimistic). Of course, there are tremendous semiotic and iconic obstacles to overcome, and building community and media relationships is a long-term process, but it is entirely within our grasp to stop playing the 'victim of media' card, set the example, create the alternative story, realign the perception. We can take back control of and own our public media destiny if we're willing to do the work. We can blame the media all we want, but what have we offered them as alternatives?

“Verily, Allāh will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.” 13:11

Assaf offers several powerful observations throughout his post, yet in his closing paragraph he makes an elegant point then immediately destroys any hope of outreach to get his views disseminated:

We should honestly worry about what makes any citizen hate his country so intensely that he is ready to waste his life to express his anger? Till then, please do not call me. For, like you, I have not the answer.

This sends an ultimate mixed message, almost passive-aggressive in light of his previous request to be called on for community issues. If I worked in the newsroom and read such a statement, you can be quite sure I'll take his request and not call him — ever again, on any issue, Muslim or not.

Interestingly, in another version of his article on NJ voices, the comments seem to bear out some of these observations, and I'm encouraged that some non-Muslims are seeking a more accessible Muslim media presence to turn to and are also noticing the lack of it. This marks an important point about identifying needs and responding to them that I'll address later in this series.

If I'm a reporter or an assignment desk editor, I need someone or some group who's willing to work with me. Who else can I call, who else is on the list? Where can I go to get a sense of the Muslim pulse?

The problem doesn't lie just with the Muslim ummah, of course. The media does bear some role to play in the equation, but unless you're an obviously partisan outlet or clear Islamophobe (Geller/Spencer), you're not going to deliberately set out to paint an “all Muslims are evil” or a singular Muslim viewpoint. But with a very limited range of alternative and/or local Muslim experiences to draw from, media coverage options are limited. When they are found, they're often not very satisfactory (the failure of strong, resonating messages from Muslim institutions I'll address in the next post).

Compounding the problem for Islam and the media is that Islam is not structured in a denominational sense. This is very hard for western media to work around. We don't ask one Christian to represent all Christians, because you can ask a Baptist or Protestant or Catholic or 7th-Day Adventist or Pentecostal or Evangelical or Quaker or Mormon for their take. The granularity of that denominational diversity gives a newsroom some readily identifiable, “go-to” starting points to get answers and specific viewpoints from any particular group.

Even a cursory sample of comments on posts throughout the Islamosphere reveals how diverse (or divided) the range of thought within the Muslim ummah is. That the level of discourse within the ummah isn't always respectful is a significant point to ponder: we can't very well preach that “Islam is a tolerant religion” when we don't often respectfully tolerate differing views amongst ourselves. That sends another significantly mixed message.

From a newsroom standpoint, the relative lack of Islam's denominational structure makes the range of Islam seem more unified than it really is. It's very hard at a quick glance to even be aware of that diversity, let alone identify and isolate and understand it, or contact a spectrum of various representatives. Our tendency toward isolationism reinforces this problem, as do the messages we send out from a gut-level response when we feel on the defensive: “Islam is a religion of peace!” we decry, the subtext of which presents an apparent sense of unity that doesn't in reality exist and forces us to later apologize for and/or begrudgingly admit that yes, there are fringe elements that aren't adhering to central Islamic values.

A little bit of proactive education from Muslim bloggers and institutions could help here: we need to come clean at the outset in our blogs and statements to Western media about the level of diversity and debate within the Muslim ummah, and in some succinct objective fashion explain the diversity of thought and discourse. This is a challenge to do while trying to remain objective about your own particular position in that spectrum — and in any materials sent out, you need to disclose where you fit — but it's a necessary undertaking. Mosques and institutions should prepare such materials and periodically hold a media outreach day. Such events would be welcomed by media outlets, as it goes a long way to meeting their need for clear, accessible information and context.

More on addressing media needs in the next post.

A lot of talk in the Islamosphere centers around the perception of Muslims by non-Muslims and by the media. “The media portrays us all as terrorists, they only cover Islamic terrorist attacks. We're all tainted by association, because public perception is twisted by media portrayal,” the argument goes.

But this sentiment only examines the symptoms. It's my view that the behavior of the Muslim ummah itself is a significant contributor to the underlying cause. It's long past time to acknowledge our own culpability, in both action and inaction, in how we are perceived and portrayed. Fortunately, by taking responsibility for our own role in how we are perceived, we also empower ourselves to take ownership of it, reclaim it, change it.

In the following series of posts, I'm going to explore this: our failure of engagement from the grassroots level to established Muslim organizations, how media works, how and why our media messages fail, and improving civic and media relations (the two go hand in hand).

But I'll also look at remedies: writing more effective press releases, focusing and controlling one's message, ways to leverage new media and social networking tools, developing a sensitivity and attention to the comments of non-Muslims who seek to genuinely engage with us, the importance of overcoming the Muslim reticence to cultivate long-term, healthy relationships with local and national media outlets, and grassroots tips.

I'll start at the grassroots level and build upwards and outwards.

Underneath everything else, the root of Muslim culpability in how it is perceived and portrayed is the ummah's powerful inclination towards isolation and separatism. This pervades everything in the chain from grassroots on up, and needs to be kept uppermost in mind as we explore solutions throughout the chain of communications and relationships with those outside the Muslim ummah. We have been separatist and isolationist for far too long, and now to our own detriment.

At a simple, grassroots, individual level, we must begin engaging with our community as citizens first, Muslims second. I know that seems uncomfortable on the surface, and understand I'm not advocating we deny our faith or go into hiding — in fact I'm proposing we need to be more visible — but more visible as citizens who just happen to be Muslim, as opposed to Muslims who are preoccupied mainly with our Muslimness to the exclusion of our civic duties and neighbors.

We need to stop being defensive Muslims and start becoming concerned civic participants.

We need to understand that the Muslim ummah is not the only ummah we are a part of.

How to do this?

A) Get involved locally: go to a town hall meeting, your school's PTA or the school board, neighborhood association, etc. Find a civic cause and get involved. Invite your neighbors for dinner. Join a gym. Lend a lawn mower. Join any kind of recreational or social group, be it bird watchers, chess club, green causes, Democrats, Republicans, whatever.

In short: If you're in America because of the opportunities it affords, then do your part and participate.

The key is to connect outside of our sphere, human to human, person to person, townsfolk to townsfolk.

(More than just civic engagement, it's increasingly important to do and document good deeds and actions. Look for more on this in a future post outside this series).

B) If you're a Muslim blogger and/or a follower of Muslim blogs: Congrats, you've worked very hard, shukriya for all you've done, mash'Allāh, you did great work!

In fact, your blogging was so awesome, you've won a vacation! Here's your temporary exit visa from Blogistan!

Go visit some other part of the internet. Take a long hiatus from blogging about Muslim issues that — let's be real here and call a spade a spade — are pretty much only read and discussed by other Muslim bloggers blogging about Muslim issues. I'm not saying that kind of exchange shouldn't happen, of course it should. I love the Islamosphere and we need that internal discourse, but we need to shake any delusions about the Islamosphere's true external reach and influence on non-Muslims. There are ways to improve that reach that I'll address later in this series, but currently that reach is not much at all.

Start a section on your blog (or set up a new one) about what's happening in your city. If you're personally involved in some of the community steps mentioned above, then blog on those. Link with other community bloggers, comment on their blogs, comment on your city newspaper or TV station web sites (most of those now have reader commenting mechanisms). How much and when you want to point to your Muslim blogging interests at this stage is up to you, but the key is to build a local voice and presence that actively demonstrates civic interest and concern. For that kind of audience and targeting, building your civic cyberidentity is more important than showcasing your Muslim one, at least initially.

Here's my throwdown: I challenge every Muslim blogger to blog on something else other than Muslim issues for their next three posts. Make it local to your community. Post a link to it on the comments below.

Can you, will you do it?

Both these activities — individual civic activism and playing a part in the local blogosphere — have an additional benefit of setting the stage for a better long-term relationship and presence with local (and ultimately national) media. How media outlets work, the Muslim reticence to develop media relationships and the Muslim failure to deliver effective lasting messages to the media — and how that can be turned around — will be addressed in the next post.

If Muslims are not willing to be known and be identified as fellow citizens — fully participating in and concerned about our civic community — then the only Muslims our neighbors will ever know about, are those Muslims that make the news when they commit senseless violent acts.

Our present isolationism has guaranteed that our civic communities know no other kind of Muslim.

But by undertaking some simple steps, we offer the civic ummah a wealth of positive experiences with Muslims — alternative experiences that can counteract the perception we've allowed to flourish by our separatist stance.

More to follow…