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‘Can’t Believe They Did That’ | Umm Zakiyyah


A Short Story By Umm Zakiyyah “You should really consider accepting their offer,” Mona said. Barakah sighed as she balanced the cell phone between her shoulder and ear as she finished typing an email to the editor of the university newspaper. “It's too much to think about right now,” Barakah said, her voice exhausted. She pressed send and leaned back ... Read More »

‘You Deserve Racism Because You’re Corrupt’


Those who are inclined toward racism or self-hate will inevitably bring up the faults of the people they detest whenever discrimination is discussed. In America, it appears that African-Americans are not only the most fault-ridden group in the eyes of others, but the most likely candidates of discrimination—even in Muslim communities and masjids. And some argue this is because of their faults. Read More »

Tired of People ‘Playing the Race Card’?


Reminders of social injustice are like reminders of poverty in the world. Those who still have within them even a grain of goodness become disturbed when confronted with these painful truths. But the true measure of righteousness is what we do about this uncomfortable stirring within. Read More »

How Could You? A Movie! ©


How could you agree to a movie, of all things? This is what many Muslims have been asking since I announced the plan to put "If I Should Speak" on the big screen. Read More »

Self-Hate, Racism ‘In Style’

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"Pakistanis are the worst!” a young Desi woman exclaimed wrinkling her nose. “I would never advise marrying any of them.” The other Pakistani women present nodded in emphatic agreement while others shook their heads knowingly. “Arabs are so extreme,” an Arab woman interjected. “Everything is haraam to them.” “Americans are much better,” another woman agreed. “They’re the only men worth marrying.” At the last comment, unease knotted in my stomach… Read More »

Beyond Black Victim Status: Slaves Are Superior


“Black people in America can never be Muslim,” he said to me as I stood next to his desk. I stared at my teacher with an expression that must have conveyed very little of what I felt right then. I didn’t know what to say. I studied his eyes, slightly enlarged by the thick glasses he wore. The deep olive of his Arab complexion was nearly the same as my American brown. We even shared the same hair texture—though my hair was covered right then. Read More »

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