Here is the full transcript of Global Voices’ editor Sahar Habib Ghazi’s TEDx Talk: The Muslims You Cannot See at TEDxStanford conference.
Sahar Habib Ghazi – Managing Editor at Global Voices
Allow me to take you back to a couple of months ago. I’m at the Women’s March in San Francisco with a neighbor and a dear friend.
I trust her with my four-year-old daughter; she trusts me with her children. She’s my rock. One minute we are chanting for women’s rights, the next we are shouting for trans rights. We are in a sea of umbrellas and people: some carrying the iconic image of a hijabi wrapped in an American flag; some chanting slogans against Islamophobia.
My friend looks at me and says, “You don’t have to deal with that stuff, right?”
“Why, because I’m not Muslim?” I have had this conversation before.
People I work with, or people who have known me for years, separate me, the Sahar they know, from the idea of “Muslim” built in their imagination. They de-Muslim me. There are 17 billion Muslims worldwide. We look different.
We practice different. We identify with being Muslim differently. But somehow we all get packed into the same Muslim box. This box is so well-constructed in our collective imaginations that when people like me don’t fit in it, we get de-Muslimed. I am not alone in this.
It even happened to the best-selling poet in America.
[ACT I: Being De-muslimed] What images come to your mind when you think of Rumi, poet of love? Peace? Love ? When Jalaluddin Rumi was my age, he was an orthodox Muslim preacher and scholar Islam, the Quran and Prophet Muhammad stayed central to his poetry until the day he died. But Rumi’s religion has been erased from Western imagination and most popular translations of his poetry. An erased history is a big part of the story of the 1.7 billion Muslims [ACT II: Belonging to the 1.7 billion].
Another is the reductive imagery of Muslims that has colonized Western books for centuries. This seductive imagery is defined by the dark men you should fear and the exotic women you need to save. The path-breaking Palestinian American scholar Edward Said first deconstructed this imagery in the 1970s.
But it stands tall today. Our politicians, my news industry, and Hollywood all continue to build on it. Take the 1998 film The Siege as an example. In it, Arab American men are actually rounded up in an internment camp in New York’s Yankee Stadium. Here’s Denzel Washington at the top, with the bad dangerous Muslims, and there he is below, with the good, patriotic Muslim FBI agent.
This film was released three years before the tragic events of 9/11. I’ve worked in the news industry for 13 years, and I’ve seen this kind of reductive powerful narrative dominate our newsfeeds. This narrative overshadows the fact that nine Muslim women have led their country in the last three decades, while the US couldn’t even elect its first real female presidential candidate in 2016. This narrative fails to recognize that French Muslim women, who can’t wear their hijab in public buildings, and Saudi Muslim women, forced to cover their bodies by their government, are two sides of the same coin. It’s one powerful group controlling the other.
This narrative diminishes Muslim leaders leading movements of change; it ignores the fact that the first Muslim prayers said on American soil were said by Africans brought here on slave ships; it erases the existence of Queer Muslims. This narrative has captured our collective imaginations so deeply and so inaccurately that Sikh men and children are often the target of anti-Muslim attacks and violence.