She’s Muslim. She’s been discriminated against. But she won’t let that stop her.
As Remaz Abdelgader stepped onto the sidewalk to cross the street to a parking lot where she would wait for her parents to pick her up, a car came out of nowhere almost hitting her. It came to a screeching halt in front of her. The driver rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and shouted at Remaz: “THIS ISN’T IRAQ, BITCH!”
It is encounters like these that Remaz, and many other Muslim Americans, fear the most at this time of heightened Islamophobia. She was only in the middle of her second week at Northern Virginia Community College in 2012 when this happened.
The backlash that Muslims have to face in the United States following horrific incidents wrongly committed in the name of Islam is overwhelming. The political framework that the religion has been established under forced it to become conflated with extremist views. The mass shooting that happened in San Bernardino last week, killing 14 people and injuring 17 others, is an example of that. It has become a routine for Muslim Americans to be seen on television condemning any violence that becomes associated with a Muslim.
Following the Paris attacks in November, Hiba Moyz, a University of California, Irvine student, went to class one day wearing a sweatshirt that represented the Muslim Student Union (MSU) on campus. As she made her way out of class, another student came up to her and asked: “Why are you wearing that? You should be more mindful about Paris.” Hiba attempted to defend herself and the MSU by responding: “The Muslim Student Union and my sweatshirt have nothing to do with Paris.”
One of the worst attacks targeting Muslim Americans happened earlier this year at Chapel Hill, North Carolina on February 10th, 2015. When three young activists, Deah Barakat, Yusor Abu-Salha, and Razan Abu-Salha were in the comfort of their home, their next door neighbor, Craig Stephen Hicks, came knocking on the door with a gun. He shot and killed the three of them execution-style. The murder is now known as the Chapel Hill Shooting. Deah and Yusor were newlyweds, celebrating only one month of marriage.
Remaz and her family are immigrants living in Alexandria, Virginia. She was born in Sudan, and she and her family moved to the States in 2002 when she was six years old. Her father had arrived a year before to begin the immigration process in 2001. Remaz’s parents enrolled her in the second grade, where she enjoyed every moment of elementary school. She became a member of her running team, which she remembers very vividly. Throughout high school, she was actively involved in her school’s debate team, track and field, as well as the Muslim Students Association. By her senior year, she was selected as one of three students to speak at her graduation ceremony.
Remaz recalled back to the time when she first began to wear the headscarf, more commonly known as the higab. It was her first day of seventh grade, and she was very nervous. “I was afraid of my friends and classmates judging me, and criticizing me for covering my hair. But surprisingly, I was met with positive comments.” Instead of criticisms and discriminatory slurs, Remaz’s friends thought it was actually “pretty cool,” she said. To Remaz, the higab represents a sense of community and dedication to God. It is a symbol of resilience and love. “I was always so fascinated by it,” she remembered. As a little girl growing up, she would accompany her mom to the mosque every weekend and saw many women, along with her mom, wearing it. “They all looked so beautiful! When my mom would come home and take off her scarf, I would wonder why she was doing that because I loved it so much and how it looked on her!” Remaz has now been wearing the higab for ten years.
Remaz remembered an incident that happened in the locker rooms when she was in junior high. A student stole her headscarf while she was changing, and refused to give it back to her. Several girls in the locker room joined the other student and all of them ganged up on Remaz. “You stink in that thing! Stop wearing it!” the student exclaimed. When Remaz refused to acknowledge her comment and demanded that she return the scarf to its rightful owner, the girl refused, not knowing that Remaz had another scarf in her backpack. That night, she went home and complained to her parents of what happened. The next day, her parents bought her four new scarves.
The summer after her high school graduation, Remaz went back to Sudan for the first time. “I always knew where I came from, but I never understood where I came from,” she remembered. After visiting her hometown, Remaz immediately knew the career path that she wanted to pursue. After seeing the economic poverty and political turmoil that infected Sudan, Remaz knew she wanted to be involved in Sudan’s economic development and conflict resolution. She has dreams of becoming a diplomat or a special envoy to Sudan. “I believe the saying goes: ‘If your dreams don’t scare you, then they’re not big enough,’” she said. Remaz is in her fourth and final year at George Mason University, studying Conflict Analysis and Resolution with an International Concentration and minoring in Immigration Studies.
When Remaz tried to remember more instances of when she faced microaggressions like these, she said she cannot remember them because she made the decision to choose to focus only on the positive things in her life. She believes that if she only remembers the negative, then she will not be able to approach the world with an open heart.
“If you hold onto every single aggression that you’ve ever received — whether it is because you are Black, or Muslim, or a woman — imagine how limited your lense is to view a conversation as a possible opportunity to change someone’s perspective. You won’t converse because you’re afraid and anxious. By doing so, you limit yourself and the potential ripple effect you can create to change this world. Rather than a victim, I label myself as someone who is resilient. We should remove the threat, and work towards creating sustainability. This will empower you.”
A few weeks ago, Remaz heard news that Senator Bernie Sanders was coming to speak at a town-hall at George Mason. She was thrilled and decided she was going to do whatever it takes to attend the town-hall. She began by signing up as a volunteer at her local library to hand out voter-registration forms. She was never officially part of an organization or campaign that was supporting Sanders, and was only independently engaged. She created a Facebook page called “Virginia Muslims for Bernie Sanders.” Remaz was dying of excitement, and continued to try getting into the town-hall. She reached out to a student group on campus to sign up as a volunteer for the event. Even then, she had to purchase a ticket. After standing in a line for hours, she bought tickets for herself and some friends, came early to the event and took her seat.
For a long time, she had been thinking of a question to ask Sanders during the event. She wanted to understand what he was going to do for the Muslim community who will vote for him. She wanted to know what his stance is on the fight against Islamophobia.
“What happened next was fantastic,” Remaz said very excitedly. She and her friends were seated behind the section where a few deaf students sat. Questions were being taken from Twitter, as well as the live audience at the town-hall. After the moderators of the event took a question from one deaf student, they moved on to another section of the auditorium. Remaz knew the moderators would probably not come back to her section. She decided to come up with a plan. Remaz and her two friends were going to stand up and waive their hands in the air until they got Sanders’ attention. As soon as they stood up, Remaz waved her hand very passionately, and her friends kept pointing at her, until Sanders finally saw her and called, “You.” “Me?” she asked. “Yeah, you,” he responded.
The video of what happened next went viral.
In her question to Sanders, Remaz mentioned the growing hysteria of Islamophobia due to the anti-Muslim comments targeting American Muslims coming from Republican candidates, like Donald Trump and Ben Carson. “With the growing Islamophobia in this country, if you look at all of the Republican candidates, in order to feed into their constituents, they’re talking about Islamophobia, and they’re constantly bashing Muslims in the media. Ben Carson. Donald Trump. The biggest bigots.
“As a Muslim student — As an American Muslim student who aspires to change this world — I am trying to raise awareness and make sure everyone is treated equally in this country. As a presidential candidate, what do you think about that?” Remaz asked. Sanders called Remaz up onto the stage, and the crowd went wild. The entire audience stood up and cheered for Remaz.
In September, Ben Carson made a statement saying Islam is not compatible with the United States Constitution. “I would not advocate that we should put a Muslim in charge of this nation,” he said. On November 20th, Donald Trump said he “would certainly implement” a database to monitor Muslims. He also said he would not rule out a “special form of identification noting their religion.” Carson’s claim directly resulted in a continuing negative public perception of American Muslims. Anti-Islamic rhetoric like this perpetuates a stigma that somehow Muslims and Islam do not fit into American society. These are the statements that generate hate and fear that infects the American public. They cause racism to flourish, and hate crimes to continue. When public figures, like Trump and Carson, make statements like these, Muslim Americans become greatly affected by hate, the same way Remaz faced discrimination in the parking lot.
Sanders responded to Remaz: “If we stand for anything, we have got to stand together and end all forms of racism and I will lead that effort as President of the United States.”
