Author: Deborah Williams

Guest blogpost about 9/11 written by Muslim American couple Afshan and Adam Paarlberg

Never forget.

On the 20^th anniversary of September 11, 2001, we somberly reflect upon and honor the thousands of loved ones, law enforcement, first responders, and firefighters who lost their lives – many of whom were Muslim Americans. Many Americans nostalgically long for the days post 9/11 when our nation united as one, regardless of creed, race, or political affiliation. The strength of togetherness and solidarity carried us through the darkest days of our country’s history.

Unless you happened to be Muslim, brown, or Arab. As Muslims, we lament the moment that has come to define us in modern history. Many of us have struggled for acceptance and were made to feel unwelcome and un-American – victims of hate crimes, discrimination, and bullying. For example, Sikhs experienced the forcible removal of turbans, as did Muslim women with their hijabs. Many individuals have been on the wrong end of cries to “go back to your country.” In the aftermath of 9/11, the Patriot Act and NSEERS were born – laws and policies suggesting Muslim Americans had lesser rights, were not welcome, and need not apply. Muslim charities were also raided, and mosques surveilled. Fast forward to 2016, we heard our former President loudly proclaim that “Islam hates us,” words that many politicians and citizens alike have echoed.

It may then come as no surprise that we have experienced these sentiments in our professional settings. On more than one occasion, patients have told me [Adam] that they would never seek care from a Muslim doctor, unaware of my religious tradition when making such statements. My professional volunteer services were once refused by a charity on account of my faith. In a legal setting, my [Afshan] immigration clients from Muslim-majority countries almost always jump through extra security hoops. As Muslim Americans, as physician and lawyer, as parents, we daily grapple with navigating our identity. We understand that we are publicly judged first as Muslims, second as Americans. During heightened moments of Islamophobia, we even find ourselves second-guessing whether recreational activities such as camping or hiking are safe for us. We have never forgotten.

On the 20^th anniversary of 9/11, we further lament a failed war on terror– a war which America promptly waged in our need for hasteful reckoning. A war that has displaced at least 37 million people in over eight countries and claimed nearly a million lives, most of whom were civilians. A war to which we have lost thousands of brave American men and women who gave their lives in service of their country, many more of whom are forever left wounded with physical and emotional trauma. Today, we grapple with the direct responsibility resulting from our actions and seek recompense as we help Afghan refugees make a new home in America.

As much as it pains us, we accept this as a part of our history and present. We also understand that today’s realities are connected to our nation’s past – from when enslaved Africans first arrived in America over 400 years ago to when Japanese Americans were confined to internment camps during WW2. We must never forget these histories if we are to learn from our mistakes and move forward as a more compassionate, intelligent, and united nation.

On this 20^th anniversary of September 11, 2001, let us never forget.

Afshan Paarlberg is visiting faculty at the Indiana University Lilly Family School of Philanthropy. She has a JD from the University of Houston Law Center and a BBA and BA from the University of Texas at Austin. She enjoys serving on several community boards, including Exodus Refugee Immigration and the Institute for Social Policy and Understanding. Afshan’s research and interest are focused on nonprofits, philanthropy, and forced migration.

Adam Paarlberg is a family physician and Associate Director of Franciscan Health Indianapolis Family Medicine Residency. He has a BA in Religious Studies from Wabash College and an MD from Indiana University School of Medicine. He enjoys a wide breadth of interests, including geriatrics, refugee and global health, addiction medicine, and bioethics.

Afshan and Adam have been married for 14 years and are parents to three lovely daughters.

The opinions stated in this blog are their own and do not reflect the views on any institutions with which they are affiliated, including the First Amendment Museum.

Guest blogpost written by author and Muslim American Victor Begg.

Sept. 11, 2001 became the first day of a new calendar: two wars, the passage of the Patriot Act, new terror threats followed by Homeland Security alerts, rampant profiling, and FBI counterterrorism investigations. The result: American Muslims viewed as a suspect community—their constitutional rights violated with impunity in far too many cases.

That day, the world had changed before our eyes. We watched these attacks in real time. We could not stop watching the TV images. The staccato effect of the looped videos was a drumbeat of unthinkable carnage. People already were comparing this to Pearl Harbor.

Until that point, Muslims like me who came to America were quietly pursuing the American dream. I met my wife in graduate school, we started a business upon graduation, Citizenship, a suburban home and kids soon followed. America became home. I was able to give back to our community.

I was appointed to the Michigan Community Service Commission, elected to our local school board, cofounded a mosque, and became active in the Republican Party.

I was worried about backlash. Upon returning from high school, our hijabi daughter said to me, “People weren’t mean, but they had a lot of questions. Her brother, a senior at the same school where she was a junior, has a similar recollection of his feelings: “I was just shocked, but what these extremists did, it doesn’t cancel out the whole Muslim people”. Muslim Americans also died that day. Her older brother, a senior in college remembers, “At first, I didn’t believe a Muslim did it. Then, when they came out with the news that it was, I was pretty upset.”

“Oh, God, let it not be a Muslim!” That’s a new prayer Muslims have learned to pray any time headlines pop up about an explosion or mass shooting since the 1995 terrorist attack that blew up the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 and injuring more than 680. That condemnable attack was the act of domestic terrorism but Muslims were hit with a tidal wave of hatred, media pundits jumped on the conclusion it was a Muslim who did it.

I was thankful when President Bush, at a mosque, firmly expressed the view: “These acts of violence against innocents violate fundamental tenets of the Islamic faith. And, it’s important for my fellow Americans to understand that”. He paraphrased the Quran’s basic principle, 30:10, condemning violence against innocents: “In the long run, evil in the extreme will be the end of those who do evil.”      

I stepped up my activism, building interfaith coalitions, working with law enforcement for our security while protecting our rights, and promoting better relationships with neighbors, civic leaders and government agencies while standing up for my faith. With the outreach efforts: cultural and civic participation and working with civil rights groups the Muslim American community today has found its place in America—today we are clearly a part of the American scene. We have three Muslims in the Congress, multiple elected political and civic leaders across America. We have media presence and we’re an active part of our neighborhoods. The challenge today is to stay the course in a divided America. We’re no longer in a survival mode like then. Today, the threat to our freedoms is greater from homegrown terrorism.

After twenty years, the 9/11 anniversary is overshadowed by the Afghan tragedy. Many Americans, too young to remember that infamous day, sacrificed their lives in the wars that followed, along with an untold number of innocent Iraqi, Syrian and Afghan civilian victims.

A crisis like the one in Afghanistan today focuses on the accompanying stereotypical images. With the Taliban in the news, Muslims are concerned once again about reporting that magnifies Islamophobia. Terms like Sharia law, Islamic fundamentalism, treatment of women by Muslims are finding their way into media outlets. Thankfully, we have our First Amendment Rights that allow Muslims to speak up and defend misinformation. Or, as a writer, I have the privilege to offer an opinion editorial to counter with the truth.

Even as we faced challenges, a Pew Research Center report finds that four in five Muslim Americans say they’re concerned but satisfied with the way things are going in their lives, and nine in ten say they are proud to be American and are contributing members of the society.

Victor Begg is the author of the 2019 memoir “Our Muslim Neighbors—Achieving the American Dream; An Immigrant’s Memoir.” Learn more about Victor and his work at www.victorbegg.com.

The opinions stated in this blog are Victor’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views of the First Amendment Museum.

Guest blogpost about 9/11 written by Muslim American Hiba Alami

I have three children. One thing I share with them is not a presence on Tik Tok, but the post 9/11 world. As a Muslim immigrant who arrived to the U.S. six months after 9/11, my experience was largely shaped by that terrorist attack and the way Muslims were perceived after that.

I don’t wear a headscarf. My fair complexion and blue eyes help me pass as a white American. This “white privilege” catches people off guard when they hear my accent. Suddenly, I’m the “Other.” Some people make a guess about my “origin” and others look perplexed, trying to piece together my identity and background. However, once I share that I come from a Muslim majority country and I work for a Muslim nonprofit, I leave very little to their imagination, and give them reasons to discriminate against me.

At a tender age, my children started questioning their place in the world and what it means to grow up as a Muslim in America. Although microaggressive comments and blatant bigotry continue to smear their adolescence, they remain loud and proud of their religious and cultural identity. They stand tall in the knowledge that their immigrant Muslim household brings them unique perspective and cultural wealth. They find themselves surviving in an exclusive ecosystem with fellow Muslim Americans, facing the same challenges and seeking similar opportunities.

 In the last two decades, no matter where Muslim Americans lived or looked like, they felt alienated and persecuted. From the Bush-era Muslim immigrant registry to the Trump’s Muslim Travel Ban, such discriminatory policies implemented by the U.S. government exploited public fear to profile and spy on innocent people. It fueled Islamophobia, and incited a steady spike in hate crimes against Muslims. Over the past decade, half of Muslim Americans say they find it harder to be Muslim. In 2021, half of Muslim families in the U.S. report religion-based bullying, twice as likely as the general public.

Discriminatory policies should be rewritten to protect all Americans, no exceptions. To that end, countless Muslim organizations were formed over the last two decades to advocate for the equity, safety, and justice for all communities on the local and national levels. Muslim Americans increased their civic and political participation and rose to positions of power and influence on Capitol Hill, state capitols, the media and the big screen. In 2018 and 2020 elections, the number of Muslim Americans who ran for office was at all-time high and Muslim voters exercised their civic duty in record numbers. They continue to donate to charitable causes within their faith communities, and support domestic poverty alleviation efforts outside of their communities. They come from all walks of life, heavily contribute to the economy, and strive everyday to be perceived as an integral part of the social fabric.

The COVID-19 pandemic swept the world and brought unprecedented public health and economic challenges to all Americans. Nonetheless, Muslim Americans rolled their sleeves and stepped up to the challenge. Their response was overwhelmingly positive, marked by the hundreds of thousands of Muslim American heath care providers who were at the frontlines, risking their lives to save others. In New York City, one of the first COVID epicenters,  9% of medical doctors are Muslims, providing healthcare to more than 5 million patients. Since March 15, 2020, 631 acts of service were logged by Muslim communities across the nation to meet the pressing needs for food and economic security, mental health, safety equipment, and spiritual support, just to name a few.

As the nation commemorates the 20th anniversary of 9/11, we witness the patriotism of Muslim Americans being questioned time and again. But what does it mean to be American? Do all Americans need to look alike and worship the same way? And what makes some of them patriots and others not?

Hiba Alami is the Executive Director of the Indiana Muslim Advocacy Network. She is a mother, wife and an active Muslim community member in Central Indiana.

The opinions stated in this blog are Hiba’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views of the First Amendment Museum.