In the weeks since Oct. 7, members of the Arab and Muslim American communities suddenly find ourselves in the strangest of positions, desperately calling on the so-called civilized West to see Palestinians as human in order to put an end to the war and death unfolding before our eyes.
In this moment, those in the West cannot credibly claim lack of knowledge of what’s happening in another part of the world. We see it all over social media and on news programs every day.
But, as Queen Rania of Jordan forcefully noted in a recent CNN interview, the reporting is crammed with the blatant double standards of the western media and politicians who dehumanize and devalue Palestinian and Muslim lives. Even still.
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People see the images, hear of the outrageous number of bombs, the staggering figures of death and displacement yet are not moved enough to demand our leaders even consider, let alone demand, a ceasefire. It will take the rest of my life, however long that is, for me to understand how that’s possible given the horrors we’re seeing on the ground in Gaza.
While this humanitarian crisis unfolds, we are simultaneously witnessing the silencing, censorship and punishment of Arab and Muslim Americans and our allies for speaking out. It’s a stark contrast from a recent uptick in use of our images and presence to highlight diversity initiatives.
As a civil rights attorney who is committed to issues of equity and inclusion within the legal community and beyond, I noted with some skepticism the rise in perceived representation of members of my community in different spaces. The corporate world plastered images of us in advertisements and on billboards, particularly of hijab-wearing women. Universities included our images in admissions materials and on marketing materials across campuses.
Remember that popular image from the 2016 election cycle and the years afterward featuring a woman wearing a U.S. flag-themed hijab? For a while, it seemed the thing to do was to highlight these images reflecting us as part of our country’s rich diversity.
But as these international events unfold, we are seeing that representation was all quite performative. Corporate America, universities and politicians were happy to use the powerful image of the hijab-wearing woman without hearing her voice. They wanted our community’s business without legitimately serving our needs. And politicians surely wanted our votes, particularly in key swing states like Michigan, without acting on our political concerns.
I was born and raised in the U.S. I’m as American as it gets. And on top of the grief of the horrific events overseas, I am devastated by the reckoning that our work towards equity here at home, including to counter Islamophobia and anti-Arab bias, hasn’t really shifted attitudes about people like me all that much. If anything, it’s now worse than ever. Because the moment our individual and collective voices were sounding the alarm of a human rights catastrophe that didn’t fit the western narrative, we weren’t just silenced, but we were punished for speaking out.
And, as sadly predicted by many Arab and Muslim leaders based on the dangerous and one-sided rhetoric we were hearing from elected officials and the media, we are experiencing another rise in anti-Palestinian, anti-Arab and Islamophobic hate crimes, including the tragic murder of six-year-old Palestinian Wadea Al-Fayoume.
As a visible Muslim woman, I yet again find myself on high alert for a hateful attack by someone provoked to act by what’s been said about people like me on repeat the past few weeks.
While we grieve the enormous loss of life overseas, we are tasked to combat the jolting wave of anti-Palestinian, anti-Arab and Islamophobic attacks. As devastating as it all is, we refuse to be silenced or to give up on the work to build true equity and inclusion for everyone, including Arabs and Muslims.
Our culture and religion are beautiful. What a loss it is for those who don’t or won’t see us for who we really are. For the rest of you who do, in this moment of truth, we need you to speak up for the sake of the Palestinian people, and for our collective humanity.
As the Universal Declaration of Human Rights reminds us, each human being is born free and equal in dignity and rights. And that includes Palestinians.
Roula Allouch lives in Over-the-Rhine and is co-chair emeritus of the Council on American-Islamic Relations, chair of the American Bar Association’s Center for Human Rights and vice chair of the board of the Muhammad Ali Center. She is also one of the 2023 Cincinnati Enquirer Women of the Year
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