Her smile was visible even behind her niqab as she weighed my bags at the check-in counter, the souvenirs from Makkah making them slightly heavier than allowed. “Han’adeeha,” she said, meaning “I’ll make an exception for you,” her young voice warm and friendly, eyes crinkling above the black fabric that concealed the rest of her face.

This small mercy from someone who perhaps understood the significance of the journey I had just completed felt like a final blessing, an umrah that, in an attempt to cleanse my soul, had now, apparently, earned me a reprieve from excess baggage fees. Allah’s Blessing, I reflected, manifests in unexpected ways, sometimes through the kindness of strangers.

As she processed my check-in, I noticed her discreetly reach for her personal phone below the counter after tagging my bags. With practiced subtlety, a movement likely invisible to less observant travelers, she angled her device toward my passport, then toward her screen, capturing images without comment or explanation. I caught a glimpse of her sliding the phone lower, likely taking my photo as well. Nothing in her demeanor acknowledged this surveillance; it was simply part of an invisible protocol, an unspoken routine.

I’ve come to recognize these moments. Many travelers remain unaware that airline staff often use unofficial WhatsApp groups on personal devices for rapid intelligence sharing, creating shadow systems of surveillance that operate alongside official channels. These digital breadcrumbs follow you from checkpoint to checkpoint, discussed in messaging groups beyond any oversight.

Then, as if confirming my suspicions about what was happening beneath the surface of our interaction, the boarding pass slid from the printer with four innocuous letters that made everything clear: SSSS.

Secondary Security Screening Selection.

She hadn’t flagged me herself; these systems operate beyond individual control, algorithmic machinery grinding beneath the surface of human interaction. Her kindness regarding my luggage was genuine; the system’s suspicion equally so. I deliberately ignored the SSSS designation, maintaining the same cheerful appreciation for her help with my overweight luggage. I smiled, thanked her again, and walked away with my heart already accelerating, though a calm voice inside reminded me: the One who had protected me through my journey to the holy lands would surely protect me through whatever indignities awaited. Still, the duality of this moment crystallized a fundamental contradiction in our security apparatus: the human face of bureaucratized suspicion, the velvet glove on an iron fist.

The Algorithmic Architecture of Discrimination

To truly understand the SSSS designation is to comprehend not merely a security protocol, but an intricate system of social control disguised as protection. This is not hyperbole; it is structural analysis. The enhanced screening selection process operates through multiple vectors of surveillance:

PC: Timeo Buehrer (unsplash)

Government watchlists constructed through often questionable intelligence merge with travel patterns deemed suspicious (one-way tickets, cash purchases) without contextual understanding. National origin and travel history become proxies for threat assessment, while algorithmic flags built on biased training data reproduce and amplify existing prejudices. This system represents not random selection but targeted surveillance masquerading as objective security. Its genius—and its danger—lies in its opacity. There exists no meaningful oversight, no pre-travel appeals process (Pre-TSA and Global Entry may not always work), and no transparency regarding selection criteria. The burden of proof is inverted: you must prove your innocence rather than the system proving your guilt.

When administrations change, particularly when one with explicit nationalist or racially biased tendencies takes power, these systems become weaponized with frightening efficiency. Historical data bears this out: during the Trump administration, CBP detentions of travelers from majority-Muslim countries increased dramatically following the implementation of Executive Order 13769, commonly called the “Muslim Ban,” which barred entry for nationals of seven Muslim-majority countries and suspended refugee admissions. This order, which sparked national protests and legal challenges over religious and national origin discrimination, was later superseded by Executive Order 13780, which maintained many of the same discriminatory provisions while adding more waiver guidelines.

The institutionalization of bias continued with Executive Order 13815, which restarted the refugee program with new, stricter “extreme vetting” procedures. While the Biden administration formally revoked these policies on January 20, 2021 (Proclamation Ending the Muslim Ban, 2021), the underlying infrastructure remained largely intact.

This represents a critical insight: the infrastructure of surveillance doesn’t require rebuilding; it merely needs recalibration. The architecture remains, only the targeting parameters shift. This explains the rapid implementation of discriminatory practices following administration changes; the foundation was already laid, waiting only for new operators to turn theoretical racism into practiced policy.

The Empirical Failure of Profiling as Security

The evidence is not merely suggestive but conclusive: profiling based on race, religion, or national origin fails as security methodology. This statement is not ideological but empirical. Behavior detection programs typically show “limited basis in science” and cannot be proven effective. The Government Accountability Office (GAO), which has been the government’s official watchdog since 1921 (yes, long before DOGE and today’s tech billionaires discovered government waste), has repeatedly criticized the TSA’s behavior detection program (SPOT) for lacking scientific validation. A 2013 GAO report recommended limiting funding until TSA could prove the program works, and a 2017 follow-up testimony noted that while TSA had revised and reduced funding for SPOT, it still lacked scientific evidence for its effectiveness.

TSA’s behavior detection techniques are no better than random chance, with less than 0.01% of flagged travelers posing actual security threats. The “hit rate” for finding genuine threats through racial or religious profiling is statistically negligible, while resources concentrated on demographic profiling create dangerous blind spots in security systems.

The security apparatus has constructed what experts term a “classification error” at a massive scale: false positives (innocent people flagged) overwhelm the system while potential false negatives (actual threats missed) slip through precisely because attention is misdirected toward demographic categories rather than evidence-based risk factors. What these systems actually produce is not security but security theater; performative rituals that create the illusion of safety while potentially undermining actual safety. This theater serves political rather than security objectives, a distinction critical to understanding why ineffective practices persist despite evidence of their failure.

The operational inefficiencies of these security procedures are further exacerbated by mismanagement within agencies like Customs and Border Protection (CBP). A 2022 DHS Office of Inspector General audit found significant evidence of poor operational controls and mismanagement within CBP. Additionally, the technologies supposedly supporting these security efforts often fail to function properly. Reports from 2024 found that nearly one-third of surveillance cameras on the U.S.-Mexico border were not working, highlighting the gap between the perception and reality of border security.

Does any of this actually help with security? The clear answer is no; it’s not reasonable, and it doesn’t truly help with security. Targeting people based on race, religion, or ethnicity creates a false sense of security while distracting from real threats. It wastes resources on innocent people while allowing actual risks to go unnoticed because they don’t “fit the profile.”

Data consistently shows that racial profiling leads to more false positives without improving the success rate of detecting genuine security threats. Beyond its ineffectiveness, it damages trust and cooperation with communities that could otherwise be allies in crime prevention efforts. People become less likely to report concerns or cooperate when they feel unfairly targeted.

The Multidimensional Trauma of Targeted Communities

For those bearing the weight of these policies, the impact transcends mere inconvenience, constituting a form of state-sanctioned traumatization that operates across multiple dimensions. The uncertainty principle becomes weaponized; never knowing if you’ll be detained, for how long, or why, creating a persistent state of anticipatory anxiety. This manifests as clinically significant symptoms: hypervigilance, sleep disturbances, concentration difficulties, and intrusive thoughts. Many develop what psychologists identify as “secondary traumatic adaptation”,  modifying behavior, dress, speech patterns, and even names to avoid triggering the system. It creates a profound spiritual contradiction that weighs on the soul.

My faith teaches tawakkul, complete reliance on Allah’s Protection and wisdom, yet the system forces me into a state of perpetual hypervigilance. I find myself caught between two realities. In one, I surrender to divine protection with absolute trust. In the other, I must constantly scan for threats, monitor my speech, curate my appearance, and anticipate others’ suspicions. This duality fragments the spiritual cohesion that the pilgrimage had just restored. It requires me to simultaneously inhabit contradictory states of being: trusting in God’s plan while strategizing against man’s prejudice.

The public humiliation functions as a disciplinary mechanism, reinforcing outsider status. Being singled out for scrutiny communicates a powerful subtext: “You do not belong here. Your presence is provisional.” Travelers describe the emotional impact in devastating terms: humiliation and shame from being searched, interrogated, or treated like criminals in front of others strips away dignity. Anger and resentment simmer, not just toward the officers, but toward the country or system they believed in. Many stop talking about these experiences out of embarrassment or fear, which leads to emotional suppression and disconnection from community support.

The body bears witness to this trauma as well. Long detentions, jet lag, missed flights, and sometimes lack of restrooms, all take a physical toll. Those with chronic conditions may be denied access to medication or medical support during lengthy questioning periods. The physical discomfort or violation of patdowns, bag searches, and digital strip-searches (phone and laptop scrutiny) can feel invasive, violating both bodily and digital autonomy. Stress hormones flood the system during these encounters, cortisol and adrenaline spiking with each additional security layer. Over time, this stress response becomes chronic, contributing to documented health disparities.

The material consequences cascade beyond the immediate encounter. Detentions and missed flights affect job opportunities, school admissions, and professional reputations. Some are denied visas or re-entry unjustly. Families watching their loved ones being mistreated suffer too, with children sometimes growing up fearing travel or resenting their parents’ countries of origin. Legal fees, rescheduled flights, or dealing with lost work days can lead to real financial strain. Most profound is the existential impact; what philosopher Frantz Fanon identified as the “ontological insecurity” of being perpetually suspect. The question becomes not merely “Will I be detained?” but “Am I ever truly a citizen? Will any amount of compliance ever be sufficient?”

The Coerced Complicity of Community Members

The most sophisticated aspect of this system is how it transforms potential resistance into reluctant participation. The young woman in niqab who printed my boarding pass embodies this contradiction, simultaneously part of a targeted community yet participating, however unwillingly, in the machinery targeting her own. This represents not personal failure but structural coercion operating through multiple mechanisms.

This dynamic raises a painful question: why would Muslim employees, themselves part of a targeted demographic, participate in the security apparatus targeting their own community? The answer lies not in individual moral failure but in structural coercion. At the individual level, employees face job pressure and fear of retaliation if they fail to comply with security protocols. Many feel trapped: “If I don’t report this person, I might be next.” Over time, even Muslim employees can internalize the biased security narrative they’ve been trained in, unconsciously beginning to see their own community through the lens of suspicion.

“The most insidious aspect of structural oppression: fracturing solidarity within targeted communities by forcing members to participate in systems that harm their own.” [PC: Charles de Luvio (unsplash)]

The answer reveals multiple layers of power dynamics. Airlines from Muslim-majority countries flag their own people not out of loyalty to them, but out of political pressure, business interests, and fear of being targeted themselves. To comply with U.S. and Western security demands, airlines like Qatar Airways, Emirates, and Turkish Airlines must follow U.S. rules, even outside U.S. soil, sharing passenger data, implementing “enhanced screening” protocols, and sometimes adopting U.S.-style watchlists. They face a stark choice: protect passengers’ dignity or protect profits and partnerships. Business almost always wins.

Some governments in the region (especially those with authoritarian or Western-aligned leadership) want to appear cooperative with the West, even at their citizens’ expense, fearing being labeled as “harboring extremism” or losing favor in international intelligence-sharing networks. Major airlines, often state-owned or state-backed, view international approval as strategic currency affecting not just tourism but foreign investment, diplomatic relations, and trade deals. Flagging a few “suspect” passengers becomes a sacrifice to maintain broader global access.

Perhaps most revealing is that just because a passenger is Arab or Muslim doesn’t mean the system sees them as worthy of protection. Class, citizenship, and politics often matter more: a Qatari citizen may be treated better than a Syrian or Palestinian refugee; a Turkish diplomat’s child may fly through security while a Turkish activist is flagged. It’s not about shared faith or identity; it’s about power, image, and alliances.

At the personal level, some employees feel they must overcompensate to prove they’re not biased or are “loyal” to the institution, going harder on their own community to avoid suspicion themselves. Power dynamics and ego sometimes play a role, where individuals with limited power use their authority to feel important, especially if they’ve felt marginalized. Not all frontline workers realize that the system they’re upholding is flawed or discriminatory. They see themselves as doing their job, following instructions, and checking boxes, without understanding the impact.

This represents the most insidious aspect of structural oppression: fracturing solidarity within targeted communities by forcing members to participate in systems that harm their own. The young woman in niqab who processed my check-in was not my opponent, but my fellow captive in a system designed to divide us.

The Strategic Political Utility of Discriminatory Security

If empirical evidence consistently demonstrates that these practices fail to enhance security, why do administrations, particularly those with explicit bias, embrace them? The answer reveals the actual function of these systems: not protection but political utility. This utility operates through distinct mechanisms that serve specific political objectives beyond the stated purpose of security.

Security theater provides tangible evidence that the administration is “protecting” supporters from exaggerated threats, creating what political scientists call “performative governance”, policies designed not for effectiveness but for visibility and emotional resonance with core supporters. Economic anxiety, healthcare concerns, and social instability get redirected toward visible “others,” employing what rhetoricians identify as “transfer” technique, attaching negative emotions from complex systemic problems to simplified human targets. Creating an atmosphere where certain communities feel perpetually observed modifies behavior beyond direct encounters with authority. This produces what philosopher Michel Foucault termed the “panopticon effect”: self-regulation due to the possibility of surveillance, even when no actual surveillance is occurring.

Administrations empower such policies not because they are effective, but because they serve political, ideological, or strategic purposes. Harsh immigration or security stances often play well with certain voter groups driven by fear, nationalism, or misinformation, a way to show they’re being “tough” and “protecting the homeland,” even when the policies are misguided. Blaming immigrants or minority groups for economic issues, crime, or cultural shifts diverts attention from policy failures or deeper systemic problems by giving people a target. A stricter security apparatus creates an atmosphere of fear and obedience, sending a message, especially to marginalized communities, that dissent or deviation from the norm will be punished. This becomes a tool of authoritarianism.

Some administrations have staff or advisors with strong nativist, anti-immigrant, or even white supremacist views. They see immigration and diversity as threats to their idea of national identity and use policy to shape the country in their image. Once these policies are in place, they can be hard to undo. Empowering DHS, CBP, and TSA with unchecked authority weakens civil liberties, which can be used later to suppress a broader range of dissent or opposition.

Historical data reveals the pattern clearly. During the Obama administration, DHS focused resources on specific threat profiles rather than broad demographic categories, resulting in a reduction in secondary screenings while maintaining security protocols. The Trump administration reversed this approach with a 2017 executive order explicitly targeting seven Muslim-majority countries and internal CBP memos expanding “discretionary screening” protocols. The Biden administration partially rolled back these policies with Executive Order 14012¹Executive Order 14012, Restoring Faith in Our Legal Immigration Systems and Strengthening Inclusion for New Americans. (2021, February 2). https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2021/02/05/2021-02563/restoring-faith-in-our-legal-immigration-systems-and-strengthening-integration-and-inclusion-efforts, which called for the review and removal of barriers in the legal immigration process, but maintained much of the infrastructure. The administration also emphasized more humanitarian approaches through Executive Order 14010²Executive Order 14010, Creating a Comprehensive Regional Framework to Address the Causes of Migration. (2021, February 2). https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/executive-order-14010-creating-comprehensive-regional-framework-address-the-causes, which directed DHS and the State Department to examine the root causes of migration from Central America and improve asylum access.

Now, with security policies shifting again under new leadership, we see the pendulum swinging back toward demographic profiling. An executive order issued on January 20, 2025, required intensified security vetting of any foreigners seeking admission to the U.S. in order to detect national security threats. This order led to considerations of expanding travel bans to dozens of countries with “deficient vetting and screening information.” Although these orders did not explicitly instruct other countries to tighten their security measures, the implication was clear: to maintain their citizens’ access to the U.S., these nations needed to comply with enhanced security and information-sharing requirements. The resulting increase in SSSS designations for travelers from specific regions in just the first quarter of 2025 demonstrates how quickly these policy shifts translate to real-world impacts on targeted communities.

Perhaps most concerning is how temporary political movements embed their worldview into permanent structures through policy changes, personnel appointments, and procedural modifications that outlast administrations. This transforms fleeting political power into enduring institutional bias. The suffering of targeted communities becomes not an unfortunate byproduct but a central feature of the system, demonstrating the administration’s commitment to exclusionary governance. This suffering is the point; visible evidence that the machinery of the state has been turned against those defined as outsiders.

Control Through Fear and the Politics of Division

The political utility of discriminatory security extends beyond mere performance for supporters. It serves as a sophisticated mechanism of social control. By creating an atmosphere of fear and suspicion, it discourages dissent and political participation from targeted communities. Those constantly worried about their status or safety are less likely to engage in civic activities, organize politically, or challenge existing power structures. This suppression of political engagement serves to maintain existing hierarchies and prevent challenges to authority.

Discriminatory security also functions as a wedge issue, deliberately dividing the population along racial, religious, and ideological lines. By framing certain communities as inherently suspicious, it creates an artificial binary: those who belong and those who don’t. This division makes coalition-building between different demographic groups more difficult, preventing unified opposition to policies that might otherwise face broader resistance. The polarization serves political interests by ensuring that base supporters remain loyal through fear while potential opposition remains fragmented.

The Human Enforcers: TSA and CBP Officers as Players in the System

At the frontlines of this security apparatus stand the individual officers: the human faces of an inhuman system. Their participation in this “game” of security theater is neither uniform nor simple. To understand why CBP and TSA officers participate in practices that harm innocent travelers requires examining the spectrum of mindsets that exist within these agencies.

Some officers genuinely believe in the mission. They’ve internalized the post-9/11 security narrative so completely that they see their role as the crucial barrier between America and potential threats. Their training has convinced them that certain demographic profiles legitimately correlate with risk, and they view their scrutiny not as discrimination but as necessary vigilance. They take pride in their thoroughness and view travelers’ discomfort as an acceptable price for national security. “Better safe than sorry” becomes the mantra that justifies any level of intrusion.

Others participate with clear awareness of the system’s flaws but feel powerless to change it. These officers often experience significant cognitive dissonance, recognizing the ineffectiveness and injustice of profiling while following protocols that require it. They are officers who whisper apologies while conducting searches, who roll their eyes at having to confiscate innocuous items, who try to make the process less humiliating through small kindnesses. Officers who know that this isn’t what they signed up for, but they need this job. Many in this category develop coping mechanisms; focusing on procedural correctness rather than outcomes, mentally separating their personal values from their professional actions.

“For policymakers with explicit bias, the calculations are coldly political, they view certain communities as acceptable collateral damage in service to larger political goals.” [PC: Claudio Schwarz (unsplash)]

Perhaps most troubling are officers who openly harbor racist or xenophobic views and find in TSA or CBP a legitimate outlet for these prejudices. Internal investigations and whistle-blower accounts have exposed text messages, social media posts, and workplace conversations revealing deeply concerning attitudes within segments of these agencies. Under biased administrations, these officers often feel emboldened, sensing tacit approval from leadership for more aggressive enforcement targeting certain groups. One former CBP agent described a culture where “certain accents or names would trigger extra scrutiny” and where “making jokes about travelers from specific countries was normalized.”

The different perceptions among officers sometimes manifest in how they interact with travelers. There are situations in secondary screening where two officers conducted the same process with markedly different approaches: the first was mechanical and cold, avoiding eye contact, treating the traveler as an object to be processed; the second maintained a professional but human demeanor, explaining each step, acknowledging the inconvenience, preserving dignity within an undignified process.

The system creates perverse incentives that reward certain officer behaviors. Performance metrics often prioritize processing speed and “compliance” rather than actual security effectiveness or respect for travelers’ rights. Officers who flag more travelers or find more prohibited items (however harmless) may receive recognition, while those who focus on treating travelers humanely risk being seen as “soft” or inefficient. The culture within these agencies often discourages questioning protocols or raising ethical concerns, creating an environment where “going along” becomes the path of least resistance.

When administrations change, particularly when one with xenophobic tendencies takes power, subtle shifts occur within these agencies. Memos circulate emphasizing “heightened vigilance” toward certain groups. Training materials are revised to expand “suspicious indicators.” Officers who might have exercised discretion in favor of travelers suddenly find themselves under pressure to demonstrate stricter enforcement. Those with predispositions toward bias feel validated and emboldened, while those with more moderate views face the choice between compliance and career consequences.

The mindsets behind these systems vary dramatically based on one’s position. For policymakers with explicit bias, the calculations are coldly political, they view certain communities as acceptable collateral damage in service to larger political goals. For career security officials, the mindset often involves professional detachment, viewing travelers as risk categories rather than individuals, and procedures as merely protocols rather than experiences with human impact. For officers on the ground, perspectives range from those who embrace discriminatory policies to those who implement them reluctantly, believing they have no choice.

For travelers from targeted communities, perceptions of these systems vary based on personal experience, religious outlook, and resources. Some adopt a fatalistic view: accepting discrimination as inevitable and focusing on survival strategies. Others maintain righteous anger, documenting abuses and challenging the system at every opportunity. Many, like myself, find ourselves navigating between faith in divine protection and practical strategies for minimizing harassment.

What unites all targeted communities is the recognition that these systems operate not from evidence but from prejudice, not from security necessity but from political expediency. This understanding forms the foundation for resistance, for refusing to accept discriminatory treatment as normal or necessary.

The Moral Imperative of Resistance

As I walked away from that check-in counter, boarding pass in hand, I recognized that the young woman in niqab and I were both caught in this machinery, her as reluctant enforcer, me as perpetual suspect. This realization demands not resignation but resistance. The system thrives on normalization, the acceptance that certain communities must endure degradation for collective “security.” This premise must be rejected categorically. The question is not how to make discriminatory security more palatable but how to dismantle it entirely in favor of evidence-based approaches that enhance actual safety without sacrificing fundamental rights.

For those not directly targeted, moral clarity demands action: bearing witness to these realities rather than averting your gaze, using privilege to document and challenge discriminatory practices, and refusing the comfortable fiction that these systems protect rather than harm. For those within targeted communities, the path requires strategic resistance: documenting encounters through formal complaints, building community support systems to mitigate trauma, engaging legal and advocacy organizations to challenge systemic abuses, and preserving dignity through refusing the role of compliant subject.

When my name was called for special screening before boarding, I stood, conscious of the public spectacle being created. The process unfolded with mechanical predictability: the enhanced pat-down, the explosive residue testing. I felt a profound calm, the certainty that Allah’s Protection surrounded me regardless of what this system demanded.

Toward Justice and Human Dignity

The journey home from sacred spaces should not lead through the machinery of suspicion. Yet, for many of us, it does. Perhaps there’s wisdom even in this; a reminder that the peace of sacred spaces exists alongside the struggles of everyday life, that our faith must withstand not just the ease of worship but the trial of worldly systems. In recognizing this reality, and in refusing its legitimacy while maintaining trust in a higher protection, lies the first step toward a security paradigm that protects all by degrading none.

True security comes not from performative screening or algorithmic suspicion but from justice, dignity, and the recognition of our shared humanity. It comes from systems built on evidence rather than fear, on targeting genuine threats rather than entire communities. For those not targeted, the call is clear: Witness this reality. Speak against it. Recognize that a system that violates the dignity of some ultimately diminishes the humanity of all.

Resistance as Survival: The Way Forward

For those of us from targeted communities, navigating these systems is not merely a question of convenience. It is a matter of survival, dignity, and collective liberation. Our path forward demands both intimate, personal resistance and bold, collective action.

“True security comes not from performative screening or algorithmic suspicion but from justice, dignity, and the recognition of our shared humanity.” [PC: Mike Von (unsplash)]

Yet individual resilience alone cannot dismantle structural oppression. Collective resistance becomes our oxygen, our sustenance. We must meticulously document every discriminatory encounter, building an irrefutable record that transforms isolated incidents into recognizable patterns. We must organize across ethnic, racial, and religious lines, recognizing that though the targets shift, the machinery remains constant. We must engage strategically with legal systems designed neither by nor for us, yet which contain tools we can repurpose for justice. Community healing circles, know-your-rights workshops, rapid response networks; these become our infrastructure of resistance.

The human elements within this system reveal critical pressure points for change. The TSA officer who refuses to make eye contact while conducting a “random” search knows what they’re participating in. The CBP agent who apologizes in a whisper while confiscating your phone recognizes the moral compromise they’ve made. These moments of human recognition, these fleeting acknowledgments of the system’s cruelty, reveal the fractures where resistance can take root.

Most telling are the encounters with officers from our own communities. The Black TSA agent who overcompensates with harshness toward fellow Black travelers, desperate to prove his allegiance to the system. The South Asian officer who slips into subtle solidarity through an extra moment of explanation, a discreet nod of understanding, recognizing the parallel between your experience and her family’s. The Latina agent mechanically following protocol while avoiding eye contact, the weight of her community’s similar scrutiny hanging between you. These interactions expose the system’s most insidious success: forcing the oppressed to participate in their own oppression.

These officers face impossible choices daily: between feeding their families and maintaining moral clarity, between professional advancement and community solidarity, between the safety of conformity and the risk of resistance. Understanding this complexity doesn’t excuse harmful behavior but illuminates the sophisticated machinery that transforms potential allies into reluctant enforcers.

In this recognition lies a profound opportunity. When we see these officers not as natural enemies but as potential collaborators trapped in impossible positions, we expand our vision of resistance. The most powerful challenge to unjust systems often comes from those working within them who choose, in critical moments, to bend rules, look away, warn, or whisper truths they’re not supposed to share.

Our resistance must therefore be as sophisticated as the oppression we face. It must operate simultaneously at the level of personal dignity, community solidarity, institutional challenge, and alliance-building with those inside the system whose humanity remains intact despite enormous pressure to surrender it.

This is not merely a strategy for survival but a reclamation of what these systems seek to destroy: our belief in the possibility of justice, our capacity for solidarity across difference, and our fundamental recognition of each other’s humanity.

The young woman in niqab at the check-in counter and I exist in the same system, both navigating its contradictions. Her kindness and the system’s cruelty coexist not as paradox but as evidence of the fundamental truth: human dignity persists even within structures designed to deny it. And above all, divine protection remains constant—whether manifested through the kindness of a stranger, the strength to maintain dignity under scrutiny, or the clarity to see these systems for what they truly are. This persistence is not merely resistance—it is the foundation upon which more just systems will eventually be built.

Related:

– Surveillance, Detentions And Politics of Fear: Managing Kashmir The Palestinian Way

– WATCH: Bloomberg Claims Mass Surveillance Of American Muslims Was “The Right Thing To Do”