Divided We Fall

Last night, the participants of our Interfaith Academies joined with others in Kansas City to watch a screening of Divided We Fall, followed by a panel discussion, at Open Circles (more information about this event available here).

I think those sitting around me would share my sentiments when I say that I was moved to tears, shocked, and chilled at what I saw on the film. Valarie Kaur, a young Sikh woman, journeyed across America and captured the stories of Sikh, Muslim, and Arab Americans in the aftermath of September 11. As individuals in this country banded together and linked arms with their neighbors in shared mourning and pain, there were some individuals who chose to attack their neighbors instead. Valarie interviewed a young Sikh man who was chased and called a terrorist only moments after the second plane hit the Twin Towers, before most people even knew what happened, and hours before a face was put on the attack. (The first person to be killed in America in a bias crime after 9/11 was a Sikh man. Read more here.) She spoke with Sikh men and women who were attacked, or whose family members were murdered, because they "looked like a terrorist." She even documented a young eight-year-old Muslim who was tormented at school, an Australian who was attacked for being with a friend of darker skin, and a Hindu who had a gun held to his head simply because of how he looked.

Perhaps one of the most chilling moments in the movie was when Valarie and her cousin Sonny interviewed two brothers who had heckled them. Even though Sonny tried to explain to them that Sikhs share the same values as Christians, he was told that he would go to hell for not being baptized. When Valarie tried to explain something else about Sikhs, one of the brothers cut her off to say "Six-Six-Six. That's the number of the devil." Valarie responded that she was saying "Sikh. S-I-K-H." The man simply replied "To my ear, I hear six-six-six."

Sarah is right and Will is right. We have to be careful of these political buzz words. Unfortunately, the politicians will not be censoring themselves as long as the media gives those quotes air time and the public does not respond. The burden is on us, then, and the burden is two fold. First of all, we must filter the information that comes to us. We must remember that just because the news shows a picture of a man with a turban and a beard and then a picture of a burning building, it does not mean that men with turbans and beards are terrorists, and we must not allow that connection. Second of all, and much more challenging and much more crucial, is that we must speak out against our politicians and members of the media who continue to say and play hate-filled statements. We must speak up and proclaim that we will not tolerate such a message. It is just like our parents taught us when we were little: when a bully sees that his torment doesn't affect us, eventually he will stop.

The Burden on Muslim Americans

By Rori Picker, Associate for Interfaith Relations, RFP-USA

On September 11, 2006 approximately 200 individuals from a myriad of faith and cultural traditions came together for the second 9/11 Unity Walk (the first in New York City). The walk began in Union Square Park at the Gandhi statue with a celebration of the centennial of Gandhian nonviolence and ended at the World Trade Center with a memorial for the victims of the September 11th tragedies. The message was one of peace, love, hope and unity.

Throughout the closing ceremony in St. Peter's Cathedral in downtown Manhattan I watched with a sense of awe and inspiration as one religious leader after another stepped forward to deliver a prayer or message of peace. As the Muslim representatives stood, I felt their extra burden as they tried to grieve along with their fellow attendants at the horrors of that day while trying to grapple with the discrimination they now face as a result. When a representative of the Sikh faith rose to deliver his message, he moved the audience, recounting the violence Sikhs have also faced since September 11th by individuals believing them to be Muslims. The first victim fell only five days after the planes hit.

As he spoke I could not help but look at some of the Muslims sitting around me and wonder what they must have been feeling at that very moment. What must it feel like to live with the knowledge that not only would someone harm you purely based on your faith tradition, but that others have been killed because someone believed them to be like you? Is it really possible for a group of people to live with the burden placed on them by the American public?

Thirty-nine percent of respondents to a USA TODAY/Gallup Poll said they felt at least some prejudice against Muslims. The same percentage favored requiring Muslims, including U.S. citizens, to carry a special ID "as a means of preventing terrorist attacks in the United States." About one-third said U.S. Muslims were sympathetic to al-Qaeda, and 22% said they wouldn't want Muslims as neighbors.

That burden is taking its toll. According to a study of 611 adults by Mona Amer of the Yale University School of Medicine, about half of Arab-Americans had symptoms of clinical depression, an impressive number compared to the 20% in an average U.S. group.

However, the USA TODAY/Gallup Poll also indicates that Muslims in America might be treated better if Americans knew them. 58% of respondents said that they had never met a Muslim, and those who did know Muslims felt a lot better about them.

On November 16, 2006 The People Speak is going to host an online discussion of Muslim-American college students from all across the country to confront these issues and many more. You can post your question or comment any time before or during the November 16 chat.

(Please note: you must be a registered user of The People Speak site to participate in the forum. Register online today.)