I’m a feminist convert to Islam
ESSAY | This is my story in the time of Trump
Being able to define ourselves as we see fit is a basic human right. I have spent years defending my right to define myself as I see myself: a woman with agency, a Muslim, a feminist, a white girl from the South, an American, a multi-faceted human being.
But in the time of Trump, how we identify ourselves, and consequently how others define us, could mean the difference between life and death, as it did for the Muslim woman who was stabbed and beaten after her attacker tried to rip off her hijab. It could mean being harassed regularly, as it does for many minority children who are bullied by classmates using Trump’s rhetoric as taunts. It could mean being blamed for your own victimization, as it has meant for both women in the military and the Jewish community in America.
Because in the time of Trump, some who follow him have become inflamed and incited by him, emboldened by him to take action in their hate of the “other.” In the time of Trump, the order of the day may regrettably be trickle-down economics, but it has also become bigotry, misogyny and the killing of young women like Nabra Hassanen.
Many people thought it was a joke for Trump to run for president. Then many thought it laughable to think Trump would win the election.
I mourned with America on 9/11. We all saw how disastrous hate can be. I mourned with my community as innocent Muslims were harassed and murdered and mosques were burned down. And I saw how Trump inflamed hate in some of his followers. I knew Trump would win.
I left the U.S., my home, and everyone I love on the eve of the election, knowing Trump would win; understanding how motivated people can be when they hate; seeing his sexual assaults brushed aside by misogynists, his intolerant language cheered by bigots, his rhetoric being the catalyst for the growth of hate groups.
I feared for my future as Trump proposed to make Muslims join a registry and wear religious identification. During Trump’s campaign, it became an act of courage to leave my house and run errands. I was treated as less than, hated for crimes I didn’t commit, for crimes I spoke out against. I understand how motivated people can be when they hate.
I stayed away from the only home I had ever known because listening to ignorance, fear and hatred spread through Trump’s pep rallies, fake news, and hate crimes made me lose faith in America. I resolved not to return to my home, my family and life as I know it as reports came in of increased hate crimes against minorities in the first month after Trump’s election. I was desperate for a break from this gut-wrenching reality. Yet I felt terminally homesick.
They say stars can’t shine without darkness. While I was in my darkest moments of despair, feeling uprooted, and mourning the loss of my home; little flickering lights began to shine through the darkness. Americans, men and women, began to stand up in huge numbers for human decency. I watched the Women’s March from afar with a heart full of hope. I was proud of my country men and women for protesting at the “Today I am a Muslim too” rally and against the Muslim ban.
For the first time in many, many years, I felt solidarity from my fellow countrymen and women.
Hopeful but cautious, I returned home a few months into the new year, preparing for the onslaught I was used to facing for my obvious Muslim identity. I prayed for the best. What I found instead of the usual stares were smiling faces.
I can only assume they were tired of being bullied into hate, tired of being manipulated for their vote, tired of being sold fear.
While there has been a terrifying uptick in hate crimes in our wounded country, we have also seen an uprising of men and women from all identities, races, and creeds — regardless of political affiliation — who will not sit by silently while evil is perpetrated.
I had lost hope in my fellow Americans. But that hope is growing while these stars shine.
