Article by Imaan Khan

Islamophobia Awareness Month (IAM) is upon us once again. During these weeks, the pervasive and worrying issues of workplace discrimination, street violence, riots and hate crime impacting the Muslim community are all brought to the fore. However, what we often find is that the root causes, that is the structural nature of Islamophobia, tends to regularly receive less attention.

Consequently, even less discussion is allocated to exposing how this facilitates and manufactures consent for the ongoing genocide in Gaza. This pervasive issue creates conditions that have allowed many in positions of power to either remain silent or openly commend the killing of thousands in Palestine.

Given it is the second IAM that takes place amid the ongoing genocide in Palestine, highlighting what Israel has been doing to Palestinians and how this links to the oppression of Muslims more widely, is all the more important to what the month is supposed to serve.

Threads of Oppression

Islamophobia is systemically entrenched and fundamentally rooted in spaces of political power, where policies and narratives are crafted. Limiting the discussions during IAM to hate crime statistics and street-level incidents can distract from its pervasive nature and prominence within the British political landscape.

The PREVENT (CVE) strategy is an example of how those in power have shaped the way that citizens interact with and perceive Islam. This dynamic reached its peak during the War on Terror, which served as a critical driver of global Islamophobia, supported by significant political and economic capital.

High-level discussions across political institutions and the media focused on distinguishing between “good” and “bad” Muslims, a tactic used to divide as well as police these communities. The creation of this binary, along with the punitive measures waged against those deemed “bad,” has been driven by a highly securitized and sensationalized discourse.

Muslims have since been increasingly portrayed as suspicious, which in turn has served to desensitize the public to the political violence being enacted on Muslims abroad under the guise of fighting terror.

Since October 7, we have witnessed these binaries playing out. From Palestinians facing ethnic cleansing being collectively represented as terrorists (or potential terrorists), to protestors being painted as sympathizers of terror for denouncing the assaults on Gaza. The aggressive targeting and even criminalization of solidarity efforts from the UK to Germany has shown that the definition of “good” amongst European states, is becoming increasingly narrow over time.

The demonization of those condemning the genocide and exercising their rights to freedom of expression and assembly, is being used to increase the repression of all across the Western continent. Indeed, one only has to look at the cases of Majid Freeman in the UK, Elias d’Imzalene in France, and the treatment of organizations like Samidoun in Canada, Germany and the US to see how pervasive this attacks on freedoms is becoming. And of course, all of the cases made against these prominent activists are rooted in Islamophobic rhetoric.

Islamophobia in Britain

The UK has regularly demonstrated how entrenched Islamophobia is. This past summer we witnessed in horror as over 25 Islamophobic and anti-immigrant riots spilled out onto the streets nationwide, marking the most significant unrest since 2011.

These violent events revealed how normalized Islamophobia has become in the UK and how it has been allowed to fester for decades. Yet, instead of alarm being raised by the government, their response was notably dismissive. Both elected officials and the British media avoided using the term Islamophobia to describe the motivations of rioters, and they failed to address the root causes behind the violence entirely.

Worse still, in the wake of the anti-Muslim riots, prominent figures such as the Home Secretary Yvette Cooper, called for the revision and strengthening of counter-extremism policies such as Prevent, disregarding the reality that this would only exacerbate Islamophobia and the criminalization of dissent. Not to mention, it would further marginalize Muslim communities.

Another recent example of the widespread Islamophobia that exists is MP Zara Sultana’s interview on Good Morning Britain. Her experience illustrated how readily the oppression of Muslims is downplayed in public discourse, with presenter Kate Garraway questioning Sultana on why the term Islamophobia is even necessary if words like ‘racist’ and ‘thuggery’ have already been used.

The resistance to naming Islamophobia, even when it threatens the country’s internal stability, reflects the extent to which it has become acceptable by both the state and media.

When viewers see prominent political figures and media personalities ignoring, justifying, or even encouraging violence against Muslims abroad—particularly in Palestine—it legitimizes the use of violence against Muslims at home.

Manufacturing Consent

Dehumanization has been a prerequisite for genocide. While this is starkly evident in Israeli discourse, it also occurs within our own borders in the UK. It is the result of decades of persistent dehumanization of Muslims that the killing of Palestinians has been allowed to take place with little opposition from those in power.

Labelling the people of Palestine with Islamophobic and racist tropes decontextualizes their resistance, framing them within an outdated narrative that suggests a primitive desire for violence as a driving force, rather than justice and liberation. Such portrayals depict Muslims as unruly and in need of control, creating justifications for the use of violence against them.

Furthermore, the murder of thousands of Palestinians is downplayed in an attempt to eliminate any potential lingering scrutiny in the minds of the public. We only have to look at how the killing of children is reported, like six-year old Hind Rajab who was referred to by a CNN reporter as a ‘woman killed in Gaza’ while Israeli soldiers are referred to in a since edited Sky News headline as ‘teenage victims’. These representations of violence lay bare the extent to which Islamophobic narratives, grounded in War on Terror rhetoric, are used amidst genocidal violence.

To effectively address Islamophobia, community focus and efforts must go towards dismantling the War on Terror and counterterrorism laws and policies. This involves standing firm against intimidation, knowing our rights, and continuing to advocate for Palestine without restriction.

Finally, we cannot uproot Islamophobia by collaborating with the very institutions that sustain it. We must speak truth to power and organize to defend our communities independently of the state. We must hold the media accountable for misrepresentation and the normalization of the injustice Muslims are constantly subjected to. We must prioritize the root causes of Islamophobia, rather than merely addressing its symptoms.

Source: The New Arab

By  Nadia Ahmad

As a visibly Muslim woman and tenured law professor, I’ve faced my share of discrimination. However, nothing prepared me for the chilling reality I encountered at the 2024 Democratic National Convention.

While I was serving as co-chair of the DNC’s Interfaith Council and on the executive committee of the DNC’s Women’s Caucus, I became a victim of a violent assault at the convention. This attack laid bare the pervasive nature of Islamophobia in our society, but what followed was even more disturbing.

The complete institutional failure following my assault—manifested in the Democratic Party’s silence, my academic institutions’ indifference, the legal system’s impotence and the overall lack of support for a victim of political violence—revealed a disturbing truth: Even in spaces that champion diversity and inclusion, Muslim voices remain expendable.

As I stood in the bustling convention hall at the United Center in Chicago, holding a cloth banner that read “Stop Arming Israel,” I never imagined that my act of peaceful protest would end in violence. Yet, within moments, three white men wielding campaign signs with wooden planks inside repeatedly struck me on the head. The physical pain was immediate, but the emotional aftermath—a concussion, trauma and a profound sense of betrayal—would linger far longer.

While some organizations swiftly issued statements condemning the attack as political violence and demanding justice, the universities I am affiliated with remained silent. This institutional indifference underscores a larger problem: The disconnect between well-intentioned diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives and the lived realities of Muslim faculty and staff, particularly those who are visibly Muslim, Black, Latino/a or from other minority groups.

In my years navigating academia, I’ve witnessed firsthand how corporatized, apolitical DEI programs fall short for those of us at the margins. They tend to focus on secular and liberal perspectives, emphasizing concepts like religious practices and holidays. While these are important, they fail to address the daily microaggressions and systemic biases that shape our experiences.

As one of the few tenured, visibly Muslim women in legal academia, I face an average of 500 micro- and macroaggressions annually. The mental toll of deciding which handful of incidents to address is exhausting, constantly pulling my focus from teaching, research and service. This burden of representation and advocacy weighs heavily on visibly Muslim women in academia. We’re often tokenized, expected to be the voice for all Muslims, which places an unfair burden on individuals and perpetuates the myth of a monolithic Muslim experience.

Moreover, current DEI approaches often prioritize male and Arab voices, inadvertently sidelining the perspectives of women, Black Muslims, Latino/a Muslims, Indigenous and other minority groups within the Muslim community. A panel on Islamophobia might discuss the impacts of fasting during Ramadan and the need for prayer spaces, but neglect to address the foreign policy landscape or the systemic racism and unique challenges faced by Black or Latino/a Muslims in academia.

The personal toll of traversing these spaces is immense. The constant code-switching, the exhaustion of being valued for expertise in one’s field while simultaneously unsupported when speaking about personal experiences with discrimination—it all breeds cynicism and burnout. My assault at the DNC and the subsequent lack of support from institutions I once believed in have profoundly impacted my sense of safety and belonging in academic and political spaces.

When I’ve complained about disparities and inequities, I am often met with shoulder shrugs and labeled a troublemaker. It is difficult for me to serve as a council member of the American Bar Association’s Section of Civil Rights and Social Justice while watching students being arrested, harassed and assaulted on university campuses like Yale University, Barnard College, the University of California, Berkeley, and Northwestern University, institutions run by people I once admired and trusted. The American Bar Association can do nothing but create a Task Force to Combat Islamophobia and hold webinars, doing nothing in response to the campus free speech issues other than talk about them.

Yet, we must channel this pain into constructive action. Based on my experiences, here are some recommendations for institutions looking to create more inclusive and effective anti-Islamophobia initiatives.

1. Audit policies and practices for Islamophobia
Review hiring and promotion practices for subtle and overt biases. Examine whether Muslim faculty are less likely to receive tenure due to research areas perceived as “controversial” or due to stereotypes about Muslim scholarship. Revise policies that marginalize Muslim faculty and fail to promote them.

2. Broaden representation in leadership and curriculum
Actively recruit Muslim faculty and staff, especially visible Muslim women, and include them in leadership roles. Establish fellowships specifically for Muslim scholars to contribute to curriculum development and other initiatives.

3. Apply an intersectional lens to DEI programs
Design DEI programming that addresses the unique challenges faced by visibly Muslim women, Black, Latino/a and Indigenous Muslims. Host panels that discuss both racial and religious discrimination and include speakers who can address anti-Blackness within Muslim communities as well as Islamophobia as state policy.

4. Diversify anti-Islamophobia training leadership
Engage trainers from different Muslim backgrounds to lead DEI workshops. Ensure participation from all university levels to promote a comprehensive understanding of diverse Muslim experiences, and include bystander intervention training.

5. Implement robust reporting and accountability mechanisms
Establish confidential reporting for Islamophobic incidents with guaranteed follow-up. Ensure that any report of Islamophobia results in a clear process with potential outcomes such as mandated sensitivity training, formal apologies or, in severe cases, suspension. Publicize these measures to build trust within the Muslim community and ensure transparency.

Institutional leaders must step up in setting the tone for how Islamophobia is addressed on campus. They must make public, unequivocal statements condemning Islamophobia and supporting Muslim members of the academic community. They need to stop criminalizing antiwar protesters and brutalizing their own students. Allocating significant resources to anti-Islamophobia initiatives, including funding for Muslim student organizations and research on Islamophobia in academia, is crucial.

Regular policy reviews are essential to ensure protection for Muslim students and faculty from discrimination, with clear consequences for Islamophobic behavior. Promoting Muslim-led interfaith dialogue and developing robust crisis response protocols are also critical steps. As we strive for progress, it’s important to note that the burden of education and advocacy does not fall solely on the shoulders of Muslim academics. Allies in positions of power must step up, speak out and take concrete actions to create truly inclusive academic spaces.

My experience of assault at the DNC and the subsequent lack of institutional support is a harrowing reminder of how far we still have to go. It underscores the need for a comprehensive approach to combating Islamophobia that goes beyond superficial diversity initiatives and addresses the deep-seated biases in our institutions. Only by working together—Muslim and non-Muslim, faculty, staff, and administration— can we create academic environments that are truly inclusive and free from the scourge of Islamophobia. The path forward is clear, but it requires courage, commitment and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. Are we ready to take that step?

Source: Inside Higher Ed

Those “certain groups of women” are Muslim women.

It is ironic that the vote will take place on the eve of International Women’s Day on March 8, which strives for a gender-equal world. Removing a Muslim woman’s right to wear a face veil is not equality.

Why should a Muslim woman who chooses to cover her face because of her faith not be allowed to do so? People of different faiths adhere to different dress codes, yet it is Muslim women who bear the brunt of this policing around the world.

Switzerland is far from the first country to propose laws limiting Muslim women’s choice of attire: France, the Netherlands, Denmark, Latvia, Austria, Bulgaria, Belgium, Republic of the Congo, Chad, Gabon and Sri Lanka all have laws prohibiting the wearing of religious face coverings. These bans are called a “security measure,” even though women’s role throughout history in political violence is not linked to the clothing they wore.

Source: Washington Post