There is a story in the Qur’an that we are seldom told about. Before revealing the ayah (verse), let us understand the context in which it was revealed. The Prophet ﷺ (peace be upon him) had lived in Madina for about two years before this incident occurred. The situation in Madina was very different to Makkah, as were the demographics. There were two tribes—al-Aws and al-Khazraj—as well as hypocrites, and three Jewish tribes. Al-Aws and al-Khazraj had a troubled history. Though they accepted Islam, tensions sometimes flared between them.

A man from al-Aws named Rafa’ bin Nu’man was awarded a shield of armor from a battle in which they were victorious. Armor was considered precious at that time as not many people were able to acquire it. But two days later, his armor was stolen. Rafa’s cousin, Qatada, said that he saw a man named Ta’ma bin Ubayriq steal the armor. Ta’ma was from Khazraj, and he was a new Muslim.

To ascertain the truth, the Prophet ﷺ sent people to look in Ta’ma’s house. The armor was not there. People from the tribe of Khazraj said that it was a Jewish man who stole the armor. So they went and checked in his house, and found it buried in the backyard. The Prophet ﷺ was mad at Qatada. How could he accuse someone, and a Muslim no less, of theft?

In any case it seemed that the matter was solved. The Muslims prayed `Isha (evening prayer) together.

But something happened. Allah, subhanahu wa ta`ala, sent the Angel Gabriel to the Prophetﷺ to declare that the Jewish man was innocent, and it was indeed Ta’ma who stole the armor. Allah (swt) revealed in the Qur’an:

“Indeed, We have revealed to you, [O Muhammad], the Book in truth so you may judge between the people by that which Allah has shown you. And do not be for the deceitful an advocate.

And seek forgiveness of Allah. Indeed, Allah is ever Forgiving and Merciful.

And do not argue on behalf of those who deceive themselves. Indeed, Allah loves not one who is a habitually sinful deceiver.

They conceal [their evil intentions and deeds] from the people, but they cannot conceal [them] from Allah , and He is with them [in His knowledge] when they spend the night in such as He does not accept of speech. And ever is Allah, of what they do, encompassing.

Here you are – those who argue on their behalf in [this] worldly life – but who will argue with Allah for them on the Day of Resurrection, or who will [then] be their representative?

And whoever does a wrong or wrongs himself but then seeks forgiveness of Allah will find Allah Forgiving and Merciful.

And whoever commits a sin only earns it against himself. And Allah is ever Knowing and Wise.

But whoever earns an offense or a sin and then blames it on an innocent [person] has taken upon himself a slander and manifest sin.

And if it was not for the favor of Allah upon you, [O Muhammad], and His mercy, a group of them would have determined to mislead you. But they do not mislead except themselves, and they will not harm you at all. And Allah has revealed to you the Book and wisdom and has taught you that which you did not know. And ever has the favor of Allah upon you been great.” (Qur’an, 4:105-113)

Ta’ma had stolen the armor. He told some of his relatives, and they all conspired with him to protect him. But Allah (swt) knows all. And Allah, al-`Adl, revealed these verses before fajr (morning prayer) so that the Prophet ﷺ could declare it after prayers.

The Jewish man did not accept Islam. This is important to point out. Allah is al-`Adl, and He is the Most Just. He commands us to be just for the sake of it, not for the reason to convert people to Islam. Da`wah (inviting people to Islam) is important, but justice is established because Allah (swt) commands us to do so.

Allah is al-`Adl

This story highlights to us Allah’s justice. The issue was not about tribes, or Muslims vs. non-Muslims. Allah’s justice is true justice; it does not favor any ‘group’—only the group that establishes His justice. Indeed, this is why one of Allah’s Names is al-`Adl, and according to an-Nabulsi, it is a Name that the entire ummah (Muslim community) agrees upon. While we touched briefly upon this Name in a previous article, we will go into detail here. `Adl comes from the root `a-d-l (ع-د-ل) which means to make something upright; it is the opposite of transgression.  Al-Ghazali explains to us Al-`Adl means “one who is Just, and He is one from whom just action emanates, the opposite of injustice and oppression.”

We see manifestations of Allah’s justice both in this world and the Next. That said, not everything will see the justice that we expect in this world, or in the time that we want. We might live to see the demise of the Pharoah, and we might not. But at the same time, while it might seem that the person committing the injustice has ‘won’, we need to look beyond the superficial. We do not know what Allah (swt) has written for the unjust after he dies, nor do we know what spiritual nourishment this person has been denied because of his transgressions. Moreover, when it comes to injustice, we need to reflect inwardly. We sometimes fail to uphold our covenant to Him. Allah (swt) has commanded us to be just, but we do not act in such a way. We allow those small transgressions in our daily lives, and only complain when something affects us. This can even be at the lowest of levels; do we believe rumors about people without being absolutely certain about the evidence? Do you give people the chance to explain themselves?

A Muslims, as servants of al-`Adl, we can never ever give up on striving for justice on all levels. Allah (swt) in the Qur’an says:

“O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm for Allah, witnesses in justice, and do not let the hatred of a people prevent you from being just. Be just; that is nearer to righteousness. And fear Allah; indeed, Allah is Acquainted with what you do.” (Qur’an, 5:8)

Ibn Taymiya is even reported to have said that Allah (swt) will protect a just nation even if it were not Muslim, and He would bring down an unjust nation even if it were Muslim. So crucial is the principle of justice to our faith that Allah (swt) also says:

“O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives. Whether one is rich or poor, Allah is more worthy of both. So follow not [personal] inclination, lest you not be just. And if you distort [your testimony] or refuse [to give it], then indeed Allah is ever, with what you do, Acquainted.”  (Qur’an, 4:135)

Allah tells us to uphold justice even if it were against our families or even our own selves. When we understand that Allah (swt) has Named Himself the Most Just, it should reassure our hearts that even if we do not see justice now, there will be justice eventually. Moreover, it should push us to strive to establish justice, because we are servants of the Most Just.

Connecting to this Name

1—Commit yourself to justice

Justice is at many levels, and true submission to the Most Just is to work for justice at all levels:

• With yourself: Al-Ghazali states that justice concerning yourself means to put your “passion and anger under the guidance of reason and religion; for as soon as he puts reason in the service of passion and anger, he will certainly commit injustice.” Every time we transgress—by crossing the limits of Allah—we harm ourselves. Even if we do not see the immediate effects, these things affect us spiritually. So be just with yourself.
• With your family: We know that charity starts at home, but so does justice. We cannot be unjust to our siblings, abusive towards our spouse, or unfair in the treatment of our children, and claim to be servants of the Most Just.
• With your community: The Prophet ﷺ told us, “The believer who mixes with people and patiently bears their annoyance will have a greater reward than the believer who does not mix with people and patiently bear their annoyance,” (Tirmidhi). It may sometimes be disheartening to deal with a community that only gives lip service to the principles of justice, but this is Islam: to strive for justice when it is most difficult; to continually improve; and be just not only to humans, but to the environment and to the animals. It applies as much to the rejection of gossip as it does to establish equitable mosques where all members of the congregation are respected.
• With the wider society: As we have heard many times, justice is not “just us”. The Prophet ﷺ stood with the oppressed in his society before they became Muslim. He ﷺ was witness to a treaty when he was young that guaranteed the rights of the weak, and said that if Quraish had offered to sign such a treaty with him, he would accept.
• For Allah (swt): Being committed to justice at all these levels for the sake of Allah (swt) means that we cannot transgress. We do not choose our ‘group’ over others. Allah is the Truth and the Most Just, and thus we need to seek Truth and Justice in all our interactions, even if it were against ourselves.

2—Always remain hopeful

When you see a situation that is unjust and feel helpless to change it, remember that Allah (swt) is the source of justice. Nothing passes without His knowledge and there will be ultimate justice.

3—Be certain that He is the Most Just

Al-Ghazali says, “Man’s religious gain from his believing that God—great and glorious—is just lies in not taking objection to Him in His plan, His decree and all of His actions, whether they correspond to his will or not. For all that is just: it is as it should be and how it should be.” Al-Ghazali reminds us that sometimes we do not know the alternative to what seems to be a big injustice. Indeed, He (swt) knows the unseen.

4- Be Merciful

Just like, when it comes to our sins, we like for Allah (swt) to deal with us with His Mercy rather than justice, so should we be merciful with people’s slights against us and in covering their sins, as long as they are not harming others.

May we be of those who stand for justice for all, even if it were against our own selves.

Originally published at Safa Center here.

The suburban Muslim community in America has a problem. Our masajid (mosques) are in shambles because we think money alone can save them. We believe the wealthy and powerful can change our condition. We believe Islamophobia can be fought by impressing the important, the elite and that personal safety comes from fleeing poor neighborhoods and dissociating ourselves socially from their ranks. We could not be further from the truth and the example of our Noble Prophet ﷺ (peace be upon him).

Even benevolent donors may fall into this delusional mind set. Donations may keep walls standing, air conditioning running, and the windows polished but they do not fill the room with Prophetic love, divine guidance, and a people who will carry the message of Islam with integrity and grace. Only the blessings of Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) can do all this. When we change what is inside ourselves, when we put seeking Allah’s blessings and our Prophet’s example first, only then will He change our condition.

In Surah ‘Abasa, the Prophet ﷺ was redirected by Allah from appealing to an important member of Meccan society while turning away from a humble blind man. In this famous incident recorded in the Qur’an, we are reminded as an ummah (community) that we should not neglect the poor and downtrodden, nor prefer the influential to them. At a time in America where we hear about tragic hate crimes every few weeks, there is increased temptation to seek safety from the wrong sources. There is nothing wrong with practicing caution or building relationships with decision makers, but there is something very deeply wrong when suburban Muslims choose to dissociate themselves socially from poor Muslims and poor Americans in general, while rubbing elbows with police officials and politicians, in an effort to preserve their safety.

First of all, it is elitist, and secondly, it contradicts the Prophetic formula for success. Consider the following statements from the Prophet ﷺ:

Mus’ab ibn Sa’d ibn Abi Waqqas said, “Sa’d thought that he had preference over those below him and the Prophet (saw) said, ‘Are you given victory and provision except on account of the weak among you?’” [al-Bukhari]

Abu al-Darda said, “I heard the Messenger of Allah (saw) say, ‘Seek me among the poor and weak. Truly, you are given victory and provided for on account of the poor and weak among you.” [Abu Dawud]

How incredible that an entire ummah seeks the prayer and support of the marginalized among them in order to collectively enjoy success, victory, and even wealth. On a psychological level, the wealthy believer must recognize their blessing in wealth literally comes from the poor. Contrast this with the delusion of Qaarun, an incredibly wealthy tyrant who said, “I was only given it (wealth) because of knowledge I have.” (Qur’an 28:78) Unfortunately, many Muslims, even big donors, may live with the myth of Qaarun: that their accumulated wealth is because they were smart, and played the game of money-making correctly and poor people are poor because they are either lazy, unintelligent, or predisposed to crime.

The Prophet ﷺ flipped the script on so many social pathologies: sexism, racism, tribalism, and also elitism and classism. The Prophet’s guidance is a shining light in a time of darkness, but will we have the courage to carry his lamp? America today has criminalized poverty. The structural and institutional discrimination that exists against poor people reflect nothing short of a new age of ignorance. If we do not confront this ignorance at least on a spiritual level, we too will become from its people and proponents.

It’s disturbing to see suburban masajid and their congregants having no meaningful fraternal relationship with the poor and marginalized, and even more so as the poor and marginalized also exist in suburbs and within these congregations. The programming alone usually reflect ticket costs that only the wealthy can afford. If you don’t see them at the event, maybe it’s because they’d rather not have to explain that they can’t afford being there. Donations are not a fraternal relationship. When we recognize that the poor and marginalized are not simply to be tolerated, but honored because they endure what has been lifted from the rest of us, so we can enjoy what we enjoy, we owe them a debt of gratitude, service, and love. They are the truly important people among us as this incident in the Prophet’s life indicates:

Abu’l-‘Abbas Sahl ibn Sa’d as-Sa’idi said, “A man passed by the Prophet (saw) who said to the man who was sitting with him, ‘What do you think of this one?’ He replied, ‘A man who is one of our nobles. This man, by Allah, if he proposes marriage, his proposal is accepted, and if he intercedes his intercession would be granted.’ The Messenger of Allah (saw) was silent. Then another man passed by and the Messenger of Allah asked him, ‘What do you think of this one?’ He answered, ‘O Messenger of Allah, this is just one of the poor Muslims. If he were to propose marriage, his proposal would not be worth accepting, and if he were to intercede, his intercession would not be granted, and if he were to speak, his words would not be listened to.’ The Messenger of Allah (saw) said, ‘This one is better than the whole earth full of the first one.” [Bukhari and Muslim]

The Prophet ﷺ didn’t just honor the poor and marginalized, he loved them and he prayed for their love. He used to supplicate: “O Allah! I ask You for the means to do good, to avoid evil, and to love the poor, and I beseech You to forgive me and have mercy on me.” (Tirmidhi) Our beloved Prophet ﷺ lived his values. Given the choice to be a Kingly Prophet or a Servant Messenger, he chose very easily to be a Servant Messenger. His wife, Lady Aisha radi allahu `anha (may God be pleased with her) reported after he made this choice, the Prophet ﷺ never ate while reclining, saying: “I eat like a servant eats and I sit like a servant sits.” We know that he could have lived the life of a millionaire, but rather he was more generous than the free blowing wind. He despised the remodeling of homes for the sole purpose of symbolizing wealth and shunned excessiveness in spending and in the hoarding of worldly possessions. He taught us to see the power hidden within the poor, and their ultimate success:

Haritha ibn Wahb said, “I heard the Messenger of Allah (saw) say, “Shall I inform you about the people of the Garden? All who are weak and thought to be weak. If they were to take an oath by Allah, Allah would carry it out. Shall I tell you about the people of the Fire? All those who are coarse, domineering, and arrogant.’” [Bukhari and Muslim]

We can say we believe Allah (swt) and His Prophet ﷺ but much of the suburban American Muslim community has behaved like something else. We have behaved like we believe our success, protection, and wealth come from the elite. We have behaved like the ones worthy of our fraternity are the powerful. We live socially disconnected from the poor no matter how much we donate, and consider ourselves morally and intellectually superior because we can donate. We live lifestyles that reflect the very waste, excess, and hoarding that the Prophet ﷺ despised. Worse yet, we consider ourselves the ansaar ((the helpers of Medina who shared their wealth and homes with the immigrants of Mecca who fled persecution)) , and the poor and marginalized are the muhajiroon ((the immigrants of Mecca who fled persecution)) . The truth is they are the Ansaar, and we are the ones impoverished spiritually, socially, materially, and even politically until we recognize it.

ابغوني في الضعفاء فإنما تنصرون و ترزقون بضعفائكم

Becoming the Servants of the Most Merciful Series

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV

A true believer stands for something greater than his or herself.

The modern secular approach to morality has greatly plagued our society over the last half century. Hearts are hardening and people are not concerned with moral values anymore. People stand by en masse and watch the blatant spread of debauchery, lewdness, and other forms of widespread societal corruption without apprehension. We promote and entertain ourselves with corruption in our movies, television, music and video games. It has gotten so bad that social iniquity is accepted as normal in mainstream American and European society. With the globalization of western values, this iniquity is an international reality. The question is – how do the true servants of the Merciful react?

This brings us to our next characteristic of the servants of The Merciful.

“Do not give witness or credence to falsehood or immorality and if they happened to pass by vain or harmful speech they pass by with honor and dignity.” (Qur’an, 25:72)

Since the early generations our scholars have differed slightly over the meanings carried in this verse. The above translation attempts to lump them all into one general category. The first underlined part is the translation of the word ‘yash-hadoona Az-Zoor.’ Our scholars tell us that what is meant here is that the servants of the Merciful do not attend, give witness to, affirm or give credence to any falsehood. Al-Zoor is specifically referring to falsehood which has been made to look good or desirable. All sin and immorality basically falls under that category. Some of the great scholars from the early generations said Al-Zoor specifically refers to polytheism, which means that a Muslim would not go to, take part in or support a polytheistic ritual. Similarly we would never show acceptance to or validate polytheistic beliefs.

That being said, we are still obliged to not offend or insult people’s beliefs as the latter part of the above verse indicates, “if they happened to pass by vain or harmful speech, they pass by with honor and dignity.” This is a general rule for preserving one’s faith and setting a strict standard in favor of monotheism. Note that taking part in interfaith dialogue is a specific exception which has its benefits and can be discussed in a separate article.

Another explanation for the word Al-Zoor is lying. A true servant of God would not be in the company of people who often lie and they definitely would not lie themselves, particularly when giving their testimony over a disputed matter. Others contend that Al-Zoor means “the party scene” – the bar or dance club. They say that the gatherings where music and alcohol are found fall under Al-Zoor. So according to this interpretation it is definitely not appropriate for a true servant of God to be at a place where alcohol, drugs or un-Islamic music is prevalent.

The second underlined part of the verse “if they happened to pass by vain or harmful speech” is the translation of ‘Itha marroo bil-laghwi.’ We have translated it as “if they happened to pass by” rather than “if they passed by” because as the commentators mentioned the linguistic connotation of this verse is that they did not or would not intend to witness ‘Al-Laghw,’ which we translated as vain or harmful speech. The exegetes mentioned that Al-Laghw refers to the rude and disrespectful attacks of the disbelievers upon the believers. Others said that it refers to all foul language and evil talk such as lying, backbiting, evil poetry, evil songs and slander. The later commentators kept with the basic linguistic meaning of al-Laghw which is vain or foul talk.

The last underlined part of the verse “with honor and dignity” is a translation of ‘kiraamaa’, which means noble, honorable and dignified. Our scholars said this verse means that if we happened to be verbally abused – as is quite common these days – we should exercise wisdom, kindness and pardon others. So we should either be silent (if that is best), respond with a clear non-antagonistic refutation or outright forgive and show kindness to the ignorant person who has bad character. Similarly if we hear lies, backbiting, slander or other foul speech we should advise the people against it in a kind, yet unyielding manner and be on our way.

This verse carries a lot of guidance and teaches us how to deal with social iniquity with honor and wisdom. When we look at the meaning of the last part of the verse “[pass by] with honor and dignity,” we see how many Muslims are clearly not in-line with this Islamic behavior. An example of this is the rioting, burning of flags or effigies of politicians as a response to anti-Islam campaigns in western media. This is not how we stand for something greater than ourselves.

This verse is about hearts with spiritual life that stand against all forms of evil, especially when it comes to evil that is made beautiful, appealing and acceptable. When the Prophet ﷺ told us that Islam came as a stranger and it will return strange, he was informing of us of the very reality we find ourselves in. In the time of the Prophet ﷺ, sin and corruption were norms which he and his companions stood against. They embraced these divine set of morals – self-respect, honesty and integrity – that put their human desires in check and regulated them for something better in the long run.

We pray God Almighty bless us to be like those strangers who revive spiritual and moral integrity as a societal standard. May we do this so that we may earn His pleasure and become true Servants of the Merciful! Ameen.

One of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s least known papers was an op-ed he wrote as an undergrad at Morehouse College in 1947. It was a call to question the purpose of education. I believe his call has yet to be answered.

Photo: Seattle.roamer

A recent national study, conducted annually as part of the American Community Survey, captured snapshots of undergraduate college students’ views on education. The respondents were asked to weigh different values and to rate them according to importance.

The percentage of students who found “being very well off financially” as “essential” or “very important” rose from 42 percent in 1966 to 80 percent in 2011. The percent of students who found “developing a meaningful philosophy of life” as “essential” or “very important” dropped from 85 percent to 47 percent. This trend in our views on education starkly contrasts with what King viewed as its true purpose.

King tells us that “education must enable one to sift and weigh evidence, to discern the true from the false, the real from the unreal, and the facts from the fiction.” For our (costly) educations to be truly worthwhile, we had better begin to ask ourselves the difficult questions. What is my stance on homosexuality–both morally and legally? Why are our prisons still filled with black people over sixty years after Rosa Parks’ sit in? What is our country’s role in the Middle East? Why are we over there anyway?

If those questions make us uncomfortable, that is a good sign. King contends that to begin the journey towards finding our philosophy of life, we must discover our moral and ethical truths. Our educations must challenge us to ask the questions that are not politically correct, to question our teachers, our leaders, and our gods; it is only in the sincere pursuit of truth that we can land on “worthy objectives upon which to concentrate” (King).

There may be serious repercussions if we do not. He ends with a warning I pass on to myself, my fellow classmates, and my teachers: “If we are not careful, our colleges will produce a group of close-minded, unscientific, illogical propagandists, consumed with immoral acts. Be careful, ‘brethren!’ Be careful, teachers!”

Many of us recently celebrated MLK Day of Service with a great quote on Facebook, by volunteering for a day, or even by starting a service project. These are all great things. But to truly honor his memory and celebrate his work, it is the quest for meaning that we must all embark on together. This pursuit of meaning should enable us to question the status quo of today, not simply to remember what has already been done by greats like MLK. We must question status quos in the political sphere, the personal sphere, the religious as well as the social sphere. Our role as individuals with the potential for leadership and influence is to realize our personal duty to seek truth and meaning in our lives. It is from this platform that we can begin to change ourselves, our families, our communities, and our world for the better.

Photo: Tim & Stacy Fisher

What happens when what you have spent years building is lost in one day? How do you control the actions of others that will unfairly, but inevitably, be associated with you? Is it really worth even doing anything at all?

In the Qur’an, Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) tells us about the Prophet ‘Uzayr `alayhi as-salaam (peace be upon him). The Prophet ‘Uzayr was sent to a destroyed Jerusalem. It was razed to the ground. There were no people, no trees, and no buildings. There was absolutely nothing there. ‘Uzayr had no idea what he would be sent to. And so imagine how dumbfounded he must have been when he saw the state of the place. He might have wondered why he was even sent, because it was beyond saving. As he looked at that forsaken land, he asked the question:

“How will Allah bring this to life after its death?”

We might ask ourselves the same question. After the shocking events in Paris and the (selective) media outrage, the subsequent Islamophobic attacks and backlash against Muslims—is it dead? Can we ever really do anything when no matter what good we do, we will be blamed for the actions of a few? And those actions, as deplorable as they are, will be divorced from their roots: of foreign invasions, occupations and killings. So we will never actually reach a coherent solution, because our diagnosis of the disease is so off-mark.

‘Uzayr was alone. He only had a bit of food, and a donkey to ride. But as he stood there, he picked up whatever broken pieces he could find. And he began building the foundations. Then he retreated to a mountain so he could rest for the night.

But Allah (swt) caused him to die for a hundred years. He brought ‘Uzayr back to life after those hundred years. But something else happened. Jerusalem was also given life. People had come after him, and built upon the foundation that he started. People had moved back. Jerusalem was alive again. When ‘Uzayr saw this, we are told in the Qur’an:

“And when it became clear to him, he said, ‘I know that Allah is over all things competent!'” [Qur’an, 2:259]

No matter how much other people destroy, we need to be like ‘Uzayr. We might wonder how this will ever be fixed. It does not matter. Our end is Allah (swt). We are accountable to Him and will only be held responsible for what we did—not for what others do in our name. And so we will continue to do. If we build for a hundred years and it gets destroyed in a day, we will pick up the pieces and build again.

But let us build.

Let us build the things that will remain even after we are gone. We are all capable of doing something. We are given a short time on this earth, and our time will not come back. We will not take our possessions with us. But we will leave a legacy—big or small, good or bad.

Allah (swt) sent the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (peace be upon him) at a particular time. He did the best he could do within his context. And we are alive at this moment in time for a reason. We may not be able to influence what people do in other places, but certainly we can do good where we are. We can help. We can revive—because that is what we were brought to this earth for.

Plant a seed, and see how Allah (swt) makes it grow. We may all plant seeds that today are hidden in the ground and covered in dirt. And we might ask, “How will Allah bring this to life after its death?” But those seeds will become a garden one day, God willing.

Let us build for the things that will last.

—–

Some Muslim builders:

1- Muslim Groups Give $100,000 To Help Detroiters Without Water, Say It’s ‘Part Of Our Faith To Help’

2- The Unsung Muslim Heroes of Paris

3- Project FEED in San Francisco, dedicated to feeding the homeless, started in 2010 and going on until today

4- Ethical halal food

In this journey through Allah’s Names, we have learned about both His attributes of Beauty and of Majesty. The intention is to inspire fear, hope and, ultimately, love. If we misunderstand Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He), we may not see the wisdom behind the things that happen in the world or in our personal lives. We might not understand how Allah (swt) fits into our life. We may also find it difficult to love Him, because how can you love someone – deeply love someone – you do not know?

Thus it is hoped that these Names have increased our knowledge of our Creator, and have made apparent how Allah (swt) is with us in every moment.

Today’s Name should inspire in us ‘khashya’ and ‘hayba’. These words are sometimes both translated as ‘fear’, thus removing the important distinctions between the two words. In the ‘Sweetness of Prayer’ series, we explained the difference between the different types of fear:

‘Khawf’ is to flee from the thing that you fear, and requires no knowledge of that which is feared. You can be afraid, or have ‘khawf’, of the dark. ‘Khashya’, on the other hand, is fear with knowledge. The more a servant has knowledge of his Lord, the more ‘khawf’ turns to ‘khashya’. As Allah (swt) says in the Qur’an:

“Only those fear Allah, from among His servants, who have knowledge” (35:28).

‘Hayba’ is fear associated with respect, awe and glorification. You could, for example, fear fire. But the reason for your fear is that the fire may harm you, so fire earns no ‘hayba’; you do not glorify it. However, you could have a certain ‘hayba’ of your father; you could be afraid to do something wrong in front of him, but that fear is out of respect.

Al-Qahhar: The Dominator

Allah’s Name al-Qahhar comes from the Arabic root qaf-haa-ra (ق-ه-ر). It means ‘to dominate over’ or ‘to subdue from above’. Allah (swt) says in the Qur’an in Surat al-An`aam;

“And He is the subjugator (al-qaahiru) over His servants. And He is the Wise (al-Hakeem), the Acquainted [with all] (al-Khabeer). (6:18)

Someone with this attribute might be considered a tyrant, which is why Allah (swt) tells us that this attribute is possessed by the One who is also the Most Wise and the One who is Best Acquainted with everything. This reference is also for the benefit of those who doubt this attribute, and might ask “why has Allah not overpowered the tyrants of today, of whom there are many?” Allah (swt) is reminding us that there is ultimate wisdom in whom He chooses to subdue at any point in time. This is where our understanding of the holistic nature of Allah’s Names should come in: we spoke before about how Allah (swt) is Forbearing and Patient, and He gives people – even tyrants – the opportunity to turn back.

Thus we see in the Qur’an that Allah sends Moses and Aaron `alayhimaa as-salaam (may Allah’s peace be upon them both) to Pharaoh – and calling Pharaoh ‘oppressive’ would be an understatement! – telling them initially to speak to him gently. Pharaoh rejects them. Moses then shows him proof of his prophethood. Pharaoh rejects him again, insisting on enslaving the Children of Israel. Finally, Allah (swt) overpowers him by drowning him, using someone from the very people that Pharaoh was oppressing, who grew up in his own house. Such is the way of al-Qahhar, who manifests His power by subduing tyrants through the objects of their tyranny.

This is why Imam al-Ghazali describes al-Qahhar in this way: “The Dominator is the one who breaks the back of the powerful among His enemies… Indeed there is no existing thing that is not subject to the domination of His power, and powerlessness in His grasp. That is all.”
Therefore, when we look at events today and wonder “where is al-Qahhar?”, we should remember the story of Moses. Remember that Moses prevailed. Remember that Pharaoh was overpowered.

Our role is to strive against this oppression, knowing that ultimately this is what we will be asked about, and everything is subjected to the Will of Allah (swt). Indeed, so many tyrannical powers eventually come crashing down, bowing to the will of al-Qahhar. Unfortunately, we may not attribute it to Him, but as Allah (swt) tells us:

“The Day they come forth nothing concerning them will be concealed from Allah. To whom belongs [all] sovereignty this Day? To Allah, the One, the Prevailing (al-Qahhar).” (40:16)

On that Day, all will be apparent. All those who oppressed, in both seemingly small and big ways, will be before Allah, al-Qahhar. Then, there will be no ambiguity.
Living with these Names

1 – Balance fear and hope

Today’s Name might cause us to be afraid. This is not a subject we like to talk to about, because it is so much more reassuring to focus on those attributes that enable us to relax. But remembering that Allah (swt) has attributes of Majesty should instill in us the ‘khashya’ and ‘hayba’ described earlier. Moreover, Allah’s Names are to be looked at holistically. He is al-Qahhar and He is also al-Lateef (the subtle, the most kind).

2 – Dominate your lower desires
In previous articles, we talked about how we should emulate the attributes of Beauty. But what about attributes of Majesty? How do we apply them? Al-Ghazali counseled: “The dominator amongst men is the one who subdues his enemies. The greatest enemy of man is his soul, which is within him. This soul is more of an enemy to him than Satan, of whose enmity he is wary. Whoever conquers his passions conquers Satan, since Satan lures him to ruin by means of his passions.”

3 – Use that fear to stop at least one sin

To know that Allah is al-Qahhar is to burn the desire for sin in the heart. Because Allah (swt) is the Dominator, we should fear that perhaps al-Qahhar, al-Mumeet (the Life-Taker) might take our soul as we are committing the sin. This should alert us that despite it seeming as though we are being allowed to oppress our souls, we may still face the fate mentioned in this verse:

“So when they forgot that by which they had been reminded, We opened to them the doors of every [good] thing until, when they rejoiced in that which they were given, We seized them suddenly, and they were [then] in despair.” (Qur’an, 6:44)

These people used the gifts of Allah (swt) in the opposite manner to that for which they were intended, and then they were seized. In another chapter, Allah (swt) describes to us the people of the garden, who took an oath that they would reap all of their fruits and leave nothing for the poor. Allah (swt) caused their garden to be completely burned to the ground, but the owners of that garden understood the lesson. They willed something, but Allah (swt) overpowered their will, and so they turned back to Him.

Hence, this fear should not paralyze us from doing good, but it should paralyze us from doing bad. We should try to choose at least one thing – like backbiting or lying – and do our best to use this Name to help us stop it.

4 – Do not oppress others

The surest way to earn the wrath of al-Qahhar is to oppress others. Allah (swt) says in the Qur’an: “So as for the orphan, do not oppress [him] (fa laa taqhar)” (93:9). The word ‘taqhar’ comes from the same root of the name al-Qahhar. We should understand that oppression is not simply for unjust leaders or cruel human traffickers. We may also be oppressing others in more subtle ways, and thus we should be diligent to avoid this.

By Anthony Hardy

Photo: Lisa Ouellette

“My father always complains about how Islam has broad acceptance in the African-American community but not in the White American one,” said a Pakistani friend of mine as he handed me a cup of chai. “He doesn’t like how many African-American brothers come to Islam through the prisons and stuff like that. He wished more middle class White Americans were Muslims. He disdains Islam being associate with the lower class in this country.”

I shouted, “Wait? What? Is he serious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Hasn’t he read the seerah [biography of the Prophet]? Hasn’t he read the Qur’ān? The people most receptive to the message are the exploited and downtrodden. That’s how it usually works. In America, that means Blacks, Latinos, and women!”

✻✻✻

“It must be nice,” I told a White Muslimah friend of mine, “to have people approach you for marriage so frequently in the masjid. I mean, your beauty is a constantly being reinforced, unlike Black beauty. I’m sure it helps with your self-esteem.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” she admitted.

“Was? What do you mean by was?

“Well, it was nice…until I realized why they were asking me. The aunties and Arabs were only approaching me because I was White and because they wanted lily-white children. Once I figured that out, I just stopped entertaining their request. That’s one reason why I stopped going to the masjid altogether. I didn’t want to be put on a pedestal.”

✻✻✻

While shopping for naan and daal in an Indian store with some Pakistani friends, I happened to browse the cosmetic section. I found a package of “Fair & Lovely: MAX Fairness for Men.” I had heard about this cream from my Indian and Pakistani friends, but I didn’t know it was sold in America or even that it could be sold here.

I read the label:

“…fight [the] darkening of your skin due to your active lifestyle.”

I laughed aloud. No amount of cream was going to lighten my melanin-enriched skin. My friends joined in my laughter when they saw what I had found. Afterwards I put it back on the shelf.

My laughing spell continued in the car ride home. One of my friends asked me, “What’s so funny man?”

I answered, “Because it’s all so darkly comical: White people here destroy their bodies to look like Brown people and Brown people there destroy their bodies to look like White people. Everyone wants to be something other than what Allāh has made them, and they all make themselves sick in the process.”

✻✻✻

A wise Muslim woman, who happened to be a White convert, once told me that my skin color, despite the hardships attached to it, is actually a blessing in disguise: she described it as a filter which would sift through those individuals who are not serious about their commitment to higher religious or moral principles, whereas she and her family, all of whom are White, will always have to worry about people dissembling their commitment to those principles for her and her family’s Whiteness. She said my dark skin was a test for them, one many of whom are failing miserably.

✻✻✻

“So an auntie was trying to find a wife for me,” a Latino Muslim friend of mine told me, “but when they saw my pictures, they said I looked ‘too Mexican.”

I laughed a little on the outside—died a little on the inside. He is handsome in his own right, a Mexican man with German heritage. The German traits dominate his physical appearance.

I replied, “Just exactly how are you suppose to look?”

“I don’t know bro. ‘Too Mexican’? What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re the right skin color – White or White-looking in your case – but you come from the wrong culture.”

He nodded. “That’s Jahiliyya [ignorance] man.”

I continued, “I know. But cheer up. You’re better off than me: at least you’re on the right side of the color line. I’m both the wrong skin color, and I come from the wrong culture.”

✻✻✻

Midway into my nine-year tenure as a Muslim, I returned to my hometown to visit the religious community of my upbringing. Standing there in the middle of a giant cathedral, gazing at the beautiful stained glass renditions of New Testament scenes, I began to reflect on my experiences as a Black Muslim convert in America. The Muslims I had chanced upon who hailed from abroad or whose parents hailed from abroad were in fact beneficiaries both of the injustices perpetrated against Blacks and of the “universal” franchise that resulted from the struggles against those selfsame injustices; and yet, this stark reality was seldom if ever brought to the fore at conferences, masjids, Muslim Student Associations, or Islamic centers, or what have you: rather, what I saw and heard was a community by and large preoccupied with the preservation of culture – some of which contain elements of anti-Black or anti-dark-skin bias – or obsessed with producing fair-skinned progeny or enamored with prospects of making Islam more palpable to the palates of the White middle class in America – itself a byproduct of anti-Black racism – while at the same time both relegating and denigrating the very community so instrumental in their success and indeed their very existence in America in the first instance.

To employ sacred history, by way of metaphor: the Muhajir (Immigrant), when he arrived in Medina, kicked sand into the eyes of the Ansari (Helper) man; and when the Ansari was doubled over in pain, trying to remove the sand from his eyes, the Muhajir climbed on his back, to elevate himself to a higher plane and then proceeded to disparage him for his state.

This monumental incongruity made me realize many self-proclaimed and perhaps well-intentioned Muslims do in fact worship multiple gods, and one of the modern deities that has caused many others, including myself, so much difficulty within large segments of the Muslim community and around the world happens to be – for lack of a better word – a White god or a god of Whiteness whereby the standards, sensibilities, sensitivities, and suspicions of certain classes of people become not just normalized but something for which to appease and sacrifice. The only difference I could gather that day is that whereas other communities tended to be more open, honest, and straightforward in their personifications and anthropomorphizations of this god, the Prophetic directives in Sunni Islam not to depict God or His Prophets and even the racial, ethnic, and tribal egalitarianism promulgated by the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (peace be upon him) tended to obscure the historic and contemporary reality of bias against darker bodies and of predilection for fairer ones.

By my estimation, many Muslims are racially agnostic at best: the tragic irony in this racial agnosticism or the unwillingness to deal with the issue is that it perpetuates and exacerbates racism within the community, creating a staggering dissonance of nonsensical proportions. Moreover, the inability to discuss the issue effectively means it does not exist and raises it beyond critique. One can quote the Prophet ﷺ and say “No White man is better than a Black man” or recite the popular platitude “There is no racism in Islam” or appeal to the racially progressive nature of the Prophet’s career or even name his children after prominent Black Companions of the Prophet and yet be rubbing “Fair and Lovely” on her skin to “beautify herself” or requesting “fair” women for marriage in public matrimonial advertisements or telling their children to “avoid too much exposure to the sun lest you become dark and therefore unattractive” or assert something seemingly innocuous as “Blacks are scary” or Black converts are “a dime a dozen.” Very few would be the wiser.

The irony of this glaring dissonance reminded me of Al-Lāt, Al-‘Uzza, and Manat, the mighty triumvirate of the pagan Arabian pantheon, and how the capricious conclusions drawn from idolatry and polytheism are often illogical, inconsistent, and, to be blunt, asinine. Our sacred history informs us the Prophet ﷺ had these stone effigies smashed to smithereens after the conquest of Mecca. I contend, however, these idols were never really destroyed; they merely took more imperceptible, incorporeal forms: instead of sacrificing for a god or goddess fashioned from stone, wood, or date pit, now sacrifices made for modern deities are intended to placate false, arbitrary ideals of what it means to be beautiful, intelligent, pure, civilized, rich, honorable, valuable, successful, wise, and – most of important of all – human; instead of sacrificing for and finding nobility within the aegis of an inviolable set of transcendent principles dictated by Allāh, subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He), Himself and His Prophets, modern Muslims are content to destroy their bodies, their communities, their families, their children, their religion, and maybe even the integrity of their hearts and souls to achieve an empty, ephemeral sense of honor and worth.

“So have you considered al-Lat and al-‘Uzza? And Manat, the third – the other one?” (Qur’ān, 53:19-20)

“Those who take disbelievers as allies instead of the believers. Do they seek with them honor [through power]? But indeed, honor belongs to Allah entirely.” (Qur’ān, 4:139)

Yes Allāh, honor it is they seek in something other than You. I finally understood my mother’s fear of “becoming White”: shirk à la modernity.

✻✻✻

These words are not written with sorrow. I’ve shed far too many tears already for this community, enough to fill a suburban pool thrice over.

Nor are these words are not written with anguish. I’ve spent the better part of my tenure as a Muslim being angry to the point where I resided in such deep and dark nadirs that I existed in a state of oblivion regarding the blessings of my Lord.

Nor are these words written with pain. I’ve become desensitized in many respects to my own pain out of psychological necessity.

Nor are these the words of another Black convert to Islam who has faced insurmountable difficulties within the community for petty, superficial reasons. The Internet is inundated with such tales. Communities are filled with them as well. I therefore see absolutely no need to contribute to this sphere. If Muslims were so inclined to our struggles, they could sadly find those stories with minimal effort. Besides, imitation is the highest form of flattery: if the sacrifices and privations of converts were as inspiring as the community would have us believe then I would expect to see many others attempting to follow in our paths and make the sacrifices we are willing to make for the sake of the faith. Unfortunately, I don’t find this to be the case.

These are the ruminations of a detached wayfarer, one without a home who is just passing through trying to reach his destination: it’s far better not to have a home if having one means residing in the septic tank. The usage of this metaphor is, for me, quite literal, since, as I mentioned, in the wake of Jim Crow and the White Flight, the powers that be in my hometown decided to erect a sewage and water treatment in the Black neighborhood where God Himself chose to place me. This depiction is all too familiar for what awaits many converts after they declare shahadah (the testimony of faith), especially if they happen to be Black, even more so if they happen to be Black women. The way I see it, my ancestors had to endure this relegation for fear of violent reprisal. I, however, do not have to nor will I, especially at the hands of Muslims whose hues are often just as brown, if not darker, as mine own flesh and who are just as much victims of the same oppressive discrimination and just as susceptible to the caustic regimes of thought as I am.

These are the words of a young Muslim man who sincerely suspects many of his fellow co-religionists may be guilty of committing the worst sin in Islam, the only unforgivable one. And what’s worse: they may not even be aware of it.

These are the words of a soul attempting to cut the world asunder and peer at its core in an attempt to see what has gone awry.

I don’t expect my words will be heeded or taken seriously. I find many Muslims lack the sagacity and internal fortitude needed to rise to the occasion and confront the issues plaguing this community, whether it’s racism, colorism, tribalism, sexism or whatever the case may be. And if they are received, I doubt they will be received kindly. In “post-racial, colorblind” America, no one wants to have honest dialogue about race, including many Muslims, who are just as hypersensitive about color privilege and predilection in their own communities as many Whites are about White privilege in America. And even if they are received kindly, I seldom doubt the presence of the necessary courage needed to induce substantive change exists. Muslims excel at paying lip service and empty rhetoric; when it comes to walking-the-walk I find them languid.

Still, the inevitable pushback notwithstanding, I write these words in the spirit of the Prophet who informed us that religion is sound advice and who said that to change something with the tongue or words is the second tier of iman (faith). I am locked into this second tier because what afflicts Muslims and indeed much of the world cannot be changed with actions, the first tier, as the malaise is lodged both in the mind and the heart; and not even the Prophet ﷺ, best example of creation, could modify the hearts of his contemporaries.

I therefore would like to say this to my fellow Muslims who may chance upon what I’ve written here: it is our duty before our Lord to challenge idols of our times with due diligence and vigilance, whatever they may be, wherever they may be. The Prophet’s destruction of the idols in the Ka’bāh is symbolic to what we should be doing for the rest of our lives, for the remainder of time itself. The idolatry of olden times is far too crass to exist within the Muslim community today. Ancient, physical idols have been supplanted with ideological ones; the effects upon society, however, remain the same.

To be clear, what I’m writing about has little to do with White or fair skinned people per se: if anything, the false ideals to which I’m referring have the capacity to be just as damaging to White and fairer-skinned people. I’m sure my words will vibe with those people. I’m talking about a pernicious constellation of ideas that goes unchallenged because of cowardice, because of ignorance, and because of a degree of buy-in on the part of many people, Muslims especially.

I present this to the community with the hopes to commencing serious, heart-felt conversations about what ails us. I realize the gravity of my claims and I do not take them lightly. It is my solemn prayer that those who read this won’t take them lightly either.

I am so tired of waiting,

Aren’t you,

For the world to become good

And beautiful and kind?

Let us take a knife

And cut the world in two —

And see what worms are eating

At the rind.

— Langston Hughes, “Tired”

Photo: Anshu

Reflections of a Black Convert: Part I – A House in the World | Part II | Part III

By Anthony Hardy

“Remember – no matter what you achieve in life,” my mother told me when I was an eight-year-old child, “you will always be nothin’ but a nigger to them.” She looked at me with the piercing eyes only a mother has, the ones that see past your face and penetrate your soul. “When I brought you into this world, you already had three strikes against you: you’re Black, you’re a male, and you’re poor. You ain’t gonna get the same kinda leeway these White folks get.”

It’s the same admonishment all Black parents in America give their children at some point, though maybe not as candidly as my mother did. Above all else, she was a pragmatist and a martinet. Being a poor, single, Black woman in the American South will fashion a pragmatist; the desire to protect your three children from the negative influences of the environment will harden even the softest of hands. When my mother spoke these immortal words to me, the Civil Rights Act of 1965 had been the law of the land for some thirty-nine years; the landmark Supreme Court case of Brown v. Board of Education had been so for forty-five years; and the Civil Rights Act of 1968 – deemed the Fair Housing Act – had been law for thirty-six. Adequate instruction was still a necessity for survival in an ostensibly “integrated” world, particularly for Black males.

My Sustainer saw it fit to fashion me Black and to place me in a poor, deeply rooted Black Catholic community located in a portion of the Bible Belt South. The cathedral serving the community was originally constructed in the late 1800s to serve the ecclesiastic needs of German, Italian and Irish immigrants. A group of nuns opened a school for Blacks and Creoles a few years after the completion of the cathedral. The descendants of emancipated slaves flocked to Roman Catholicism from Protestantism searching for education for their children, as back in those days, Catholics were known for their stellar parochial educational institution. My great grandfather, so my mother told me, was among those individuals who converted seeking something better for his progeny. I would like to think some of those Blacks even shared the pews with their fellow White Catholics.

If so, not for long: the ninety years of Jim Crow laws and the deceptive fallacy of “separate but equal” bifurcated the community. Many of the recent European immigrants who were maligned for being Catholic were able to purchase Whiteness at a fairly cheap price. And then there was the White Flight, the embodiment of discriminatory housing legislation, urban planning, government subsidies, social engineering, predatory economic exploitation, and even physical violence that gave genesis to the coveted suburbs and exurbs, the culmination of the illusionary confluence of separation and equality. These were Jim Crow at its finest—the holy grail of the ever-elusive American Dream, built off the backs of Blacks through savagery, thievery, and connivery.

Long before my mother came into the world in the early 1960s, only Blacks attended the church. Most of the Whites in the surrounding area had long disappeared. In their absence, the powers that be erected in the center of what would become the community of my birth a sewage and water treatment plant. The house of my grandmother, the house in which I was to be raised, was juxtaposed with the cesspool. The cathedral where I was to be baptized was a ten-minute walk down street from the plant; the elementary school where I was to be educated was a fifteen-minute walk from it. For decades, everyone in the vicinity woke up, worked, and laid down to the putrid stench of excrement and chemicals. Some people would even die with the fumes in their breast, said my grandmother.

The smell had not abated when I came into the picture. Sometimes, it was so bad I remember my mother and grandmother praying for God to command the winds to take the fumes. At times, those prayers were answered; other times, we just had to bear it. Allāh subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He), in His Infinite Wisdom, had coined for me a parable using my own childhood as to what I should expect from my existence as a Black man in America.

Said Moses to his people, “Seek help through Allah and be patient. Indeed, the earth belongs to Allah. He causes to inherit it whom He wills of His servants. And the [best] outcome is for the righteous,” (Qur’ān, 7:128).

“Ain’t much else you can do,” both my mother and grandmother would say, “but suffer it and go on.”

✻✻✻

Muslims often ask me what brought me to Islam. By way of preamble, I inform people of the obvious – that I’m a Black man – and the not so obvious – that I hail from the South. I then ask them to couple these facts with their own imagination as to why a man in my position from this part of America would accept the message of the unlettered, gentile Prophet ﷺ. Most of my interlocutors, at this point, have inklings as to some of the reasons—a sign, I hope, that people at the very least comprehend the connection between the social and historical realities and the theological consequences of those realities.

I then proceed to tell them this. In fifth grade, at a private Catholic school attended predominantly by White middle and upper class children, a fourth grader, a White kid, said, “All you Black people should still be slaves!” after I bested him in a game of basketball. Were it not for some childhood friends restraining me, I surely would have beaten him to Hell and back.

When I got home that evening, I started thinking about certain aspects of Christianity, at least as I understood them at the time. It possibly had something to do with the imagery often used in Catholic churches, chiefly pictures of a European Jesus and his equally European mother and disciples, and how inconsistent I thought it was for Blacks in America to be worshipping someone or something that so closely resembled our debasers. This kid and his parents believed that in accepting a certain theological interpretation of a historical event – the supposed crucifixion and resurrection of Christ – they were somehow absolved of their sins and thus would not have to answer for them. Yet I believed, even back then, people should be held accountable before God for their actions. I never told my mother what happened. She might have razed the school and maybe even the church.

Two years later, I found myself in an under-funded, dilapidated public middle school, an institution befitting of the low property taxes in its proximity, surrounded by teenagers who were more my peers, mostly poor Blacks and a few poor Whites. My mother withdrew me from the Catholic school because she could no longer afford the expensive tuition and because she was afraid I would “become White.” Back then I lacked the insight as to how one could “become White” and was unsure what that meant. I was sure, though, the strange white substance hanging exposed from the ceiling of the school was asbestos and that neighboring the school were a liquor store and a scrap metal yard. I was sure many of the teachers were not qualified for their positions, and those that were had to deal with sparse resources. I was sure many didn’t care at all: they were paid just to show up and leave.

The altercation with the fourth grader haunted me still, and because of it, I spent many nights wandering the streets of my neighborhood, agonizing over both social and theological issues as best I could. Although I believed in Him and although I was starting to challenge foundational Christian beliefs such as the Trinity and Vicarious Atonement, I also thought He was totally indifferent to our suffering or to the suffering of others. I never entertained the question of whether God existed; my concern was, rather, did God care? I wrestled with the wisdom of God putting my family in the position He did. I thought we denizens of ghettos and trailer parks were God’s bastard children, His “mistakes” in the way parents in our society often refer to their children, the ones He created by accident. Like our own derelict fathers, I figured He just left us to rot in the dirty armpits of America. I began to consider maybe there was something inherent to our nature that warranted our condition; or maybe we were guilty of some unknown transgression against Him that necessitated our status in society as just recompense. He seemed to prefer Whites, wealthy ones at that—they were made in His image after all. Why wouldn’t one want to “become White” in that case? Maybe, I reasoned, some element of their being was more favorable to the Almighty. Maybe He played favorites with His creation, the Whiter the better in His eyes. As such, I found myself wishing I looked more like them: wishing my skin color was just a little lighter, my hair was less coarse and kinky, my butt and legs were not as big. I was coming into tauhīd (belief in the oneness of God) in one sense but not in others.

I encountered my first Muslim a few months before I started college. She was a Black woman in her mid-fifties, a former member of the Nation of Islam in her youth who had embraced Sunni Islam later in life. She in many ways reminded of my mother, religious yet down-to-earth, profane yet wise. In fact, had my mother been Muslim, she would have resembled this woman. She elucidated the basic tenets of Islam, which I was eager to accept. I claim if one is predisposed to believing in God and prophets, the message of Islam will inevitably reverberate at a recognizable frequency; however, that being said, this woman, because of her background, possessed a manner of relaying the message that resonated with me on a personal level. Had someone else been placed in my path, I might not have been as receptive to the message. Allāhu `Alim (God is All-Knowing).

✻✻✻

Muslims often do not ask what happened after my conversion. In my experience, this appears to be less concerning to them, seeing as how the question seldom surfaces, which is a sad turn of affairs since that response is I think more beneficial and instructive.

Even after I declared shahadah (the declaration of faith in Islam), it took me many years of thinking, soul searching, reading the Qur’ān, considering the life of the Prophet (s), along with a hefty dose of Malcolm X, to reach conclusions about God that were more in line with Islam. I gave much thought to Allāh and how He relates to the suffering and downtrodden in societies, particularly Blacks in America: certain ideas about Blackness in the American context had to be challenged within my own being; ideas about Whiteness had to be jettisoned; old worldviews needed to be dismantled and new ones assembled. The psycho-spiritual furniture and psychological hardwiring in my mind and in my heart needed to be rearranged. The existential angst all humans experience borne of the paradox of infinite potential and mortal finitude needed to be directed towards a different qibla (direction Muslims face in prayer). It’s taken for granted that conversion is a process, not an event.

Not too much time elapsed following my conversion before I became acquainted with how the Muslim community actually functions in terms of race, color, class, and culture. Growing up in ghettos and trailer parks grants one amazing powers of perception. In addition to seeking God, I suppose I was also longing for a haven in the houses of Allāh against the monumental tribulation of being Black in America, a place of brief reprieve. I figured if anyone could understand us Blacks it would be the Muslims, who not only possessed a sizeable Black contingency, but who also by this point, post 9/11, were just as much the objects of unjust scrutiny as we were. I was, as it turned out, quickly disabused of this naïve notion: I went from Whites calling me “slave” to Arabs calling me ‘abd (literally, Arabic for “slave”, sometimes used in a derogatory manner to refer to Black individuals), I went from getting leery looks from Whites to getting them from South Asians, I went from Whites calling me “nigger” to Turks calling me zenci (Adopted from the Arabic “zanji”, meaning “one from the land of the Blacks”; more colloquially, the term means “nigger”), I went from hearing from Whites say, “You people can’t marry our children,” to hearing this from Africans, and I went from Whites saying, “You’re scary and uncivilized” to hearing this from non-Black Muslims in general. Not even the fanes of God were exempt, churches and mosques alike.

I remember, some time after my initial run-ins with the Muslim community, I visited my grandfather who was then eighty-two years old. He is from rustic regions of southern Alabama and had survived Jim Crow, portions of World War II, the Korean War, the Ku Klux Klan, and the Civil Rights Movement. On a whim, I asked my grandfather what he thought about race and if he thought the issue was ameliorating. Given his life experience, I figured his perspective would be valuable.

He gave me this response: “Nowadays, if someone wants to call you ‘nigger,’ they won’t do it your face. There ain’t no more ‘Whites Only’ drinking fountains and pools, ya see. There ain’t no more ‘Whites Only’ neighborhood. But what they do is they say make it so you can’t get a house or a job or they cheat you. They don’t say ‘You can’t live here!’ no mo’ but they make it hard to get a house! The Klan don’t do the lynchings. The police do it now. Ain’t no mo’ poll taxes but they still don’t want us voting! They call you ‘nigger’ but they hide it better. Don’t let them fool ‘bout what they say ‘bout progress. Things is really just the same as they always was.”

When I had this conservation with him, Trayvon Martin hadn’t been killed yet, nor had Jordan Davis, or Oscar Grant or Renisha McBride or John Crawford or Mike Brown. Richard Sherman, I imagine, was probably still in high school, so he wasn’t yet the brash “thug” he would become. And no one was asking for Barack Obama’s birth certificate or questioning his American citizenship.

At least not yet, anyway. I guess the old adage is true: the more things change, the more they remain the same. There is as much literal and figurative ‘nigger’ calling amongst the Muslims in America today as there is in American society at large. Like my great-grandfather before me, I sought something better. As my mother would say though, six in one hand, half a dozen in the other.

I’m looking for a house

In the world

Where the white shadows

Will not fall.

There is no such house,

Dark brothers,

No such house

At all.

—Langston Hughes, “House in the World”

Photo: jpellgen

By Salman Khan

In his 1972 book, The Politics of Heroin, Alfred McCoy coined the phrase the “suppleness of the state.” He discussed the history of heroin discovery, production, and existence until today. Among the many discoveries he made was that the CIA actually had a heavy hand in the production and distribution of heroin throughout the world. Interestingly, he found that the CIA’s complicity in the global drug trafficking ring actually worked against many other US policies and organizations. For example, 10%-15% of lower ranking US Army men serving in Vietnam were heroin users as a result. This affected morale and actually harmed the US military. Additionally, organizations that sought to stop the spread of drug trafficking worked in direct contradiction to the CIA. This is what McCoy meant in his phrase the “suppleness of the state;” there were so many different parts of the state that in many instances they worked in contradiction of each other, instead of in benefit of the overall state.

In my experiences I have found that there exists a certain “suppleness of the state” in the Muslim community as well. In our organizations we all have noble objectives, yet due to unfortunate circumstances we compete with each other instead of collaborating. For example, you can find two or three masajid (mosques) in a close-knit area, each of which is in debt and in need of resources. Instead of pooling together and benefiting from one unified and financially stable masjid, the three masajid stay separated and broken. Not only is the community divided, but from a financial standpoint it just does not make sense. Regardless of the reasons, whether cultural, a result of bad history between the board members, or anything else, we should not work against the overall goals of our communities and ummah (global Muslim community).

Another example is with our Islamic schools and non-profit organizations. Many times there are similar organizations seeking the exact same goals, whether it is trying to build a community center, conduct da`wah (calling to Islam), or collect money for relief causes. This isn’t always a problem. If organizations are working towards similar goals, but are operationally different, or at least working together, then this is not an issue. There was ikhtilaaf (difference in opinion) among even the sahabah (companions of Muhammad ﷺ, peace be upon him), so we should not expect or call towards having one set way of doing things. The issue arises when organizations and individuals work against each other and harm each other.

As a community we have limited resources, so when multiple organizations working on similar projects, are all requesting the same resources (money, volunteers, etc.) and pulling them in ten different directions instead of a few—to do the exact same thing—we waste time, energy, and money. For example, some of our major Muslim non-profit organizations have administrative fees and marketing fees in the millions! Imagine how much money would be saved if they worked together. When we spread our resources thin, they are never enough. However, when we pool these resources together, we can accomplish a lot more. God knows best, but there seems to be an unnecessary “suppleness of the Muslim state” that works against the overarching goals of our community that needs to be addressed.

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