Qamar Bashir
Tahar Ben Jelloun, the acclaimed Moroccan-French author, has long been a voice against racism and ignorance. His seminal book Le Racisme expliqué à ma fille (Racism Explained to My Daughter) has just been released in a new graphic novel adaptation, over 25 years after its original publication . The timing could not be more apt. In an era when being visibly Muslim often means facing suspicion or hostility, Ben Jelloun’s message to younger generations about understanding and tolerance resonates deeply. He has remarked on the unique difficulty of being a Muslim today – caught between the criminal acts of extremists and the prejudices of a fearful public. As Ben Jelloun laments, Islam is too often “manipulated by ignorant… sinister people” whose fanaticism “poses a danger to the entire world” – and who “kill many more Muslims” than anyone else . These words ring true as daily headlines and online debates reveal the intense scrutiny on ordinary Muslims for the actions of a distorted few.
To gauge the world’s pulse on Islam and Muslims, one need only scroll through social media. It’s a cacophony of voices – some empathetic, many hostile. In the wake of terrorist attacks, Islamophobic rhetoric often spikes dramatically. After the 2016 Nice truck attack in France, for example, anti-Muslim tweets surged to nearly 22,000 in a single day . Researchers found an average of about 5,000 derogatory tweets about Islam per day in the months after, much of it from Europe . The sentiments behind these numbers are often raw.
Some netizens bluntly declare “Islam has no place in our country,” echoing a fear that Muslim immigrants cannot integrate. In France’s heated “burkini” debate over Islamic swimwear, one French politician even described modest beach attire as an “Islamist provocation” . Such statements imply that no matter how peacefully Muslims live, they are viewed with suspicion. As French legal scholar Rim-Sarah Alouane observed during that controversy, policies targeting Muslim dress send a painful message to French citizens of that faith: “no matter what you do… we don’t want you here.”
Yet social media has also given a platform to those defending Muslims and pushing back against bigotry. When the xenophobic hashtag #StopIslam trended after terror attacks in 2016, it was rapidly flooded by counter-messages from Muslims and allies condemning its premise . Many users spoke up to remind the world that “terrorists don’t represent us.” French Muslim voices have been especially active online. “L’intolérance ne doit pas changer de camp” – “Intolerance must not change sides,” tweeted French senator Samia Ghali, herself Muslim, urging France not to betray its values by mistreating an entire community . Alongside her, countless everyday people – Muslim and non-Muslim – use Facebook, X (Twitter), and other platforms to insist that one cannot blame an entire faith for the crimes of individuals. A scroll through global feeds reveals supportive comments like “My Muslim friends are some of the kindest people – don’t paint them all with the same brush,” juxtaposed with vitriolic slurs. This stark divide in online commentary shows how contested the public image of Islam is today.
Amid the noise, a crucial nuance is often lost: the difference between Islam as a faith and the cultural practices of some Muslim-majority societies. Critics frequently point to images of women in full burqas or other rigid customs and claim they represent Islam’s essence. In reality, many such practices are rooted in pre-Islamic or local traditions. Veiling of women, for instance, long predates Islam – it was present in ancient Byzantine, Persian, and Arabian cultures . Islam’s holy text, the Quran, calls for modesty but does not mandate the burqa or niqab; most Islamic scholars throughout history do not consider covering the face a religious requirement . In fact, the ubiquity of face veils in some regions owes more to cultural norms or recent political movements than to scripture. As one historical review notes, “scarves and veils of different colors and shapes were customary in countless cultures long before Islam” .
Understanding this distinction is key. Oppressive edicts like forbidding girls’ education or forcing women behind veils often stem from patriarchy or local culture, not the core tenets of Islam. By disentangling faith from custom, we see that what’s often attributed to “Islam” – such as the extreme imposition of the burqa by the Taliban – actually reflects a society’s socio-political climate more than the religion itself. Islam as practiced by hundreds of millions of ordinary believers is diverse and flexible, ranging from women in Jakarta wearing colorful headscarves to businesswomen in Dubai pairing designer suits with hijabs. Reducing this rich tapestry to a single caricature does a disservice to the truth.
There is a persistent narrative in some media that Muslims exist only as victims – discriminated against, voiceless, needing saving. While anti-Muslim prejudice is very real, it is only half the story. Muslims worldwide are increasingly taking agency, asserting their rights and identity within secular societies rather than passively accepting marginalization.
In November 2019, thousands of people – Muslim families, women in hijabs, men in prayer caps, and non-Muslim supporters – marched in Paris to protest Islamophobia. They carried placards with messages like “#SignalerLeRacisme, Tolérance Zéro” (“Report racism, zero tolerance”) and “Nous tou•te•s ensemble” (“All of us together”), emphasizing unity in diversity. Banners declared “Stop all racism” and “Islamophobia is not an opinion but a crime” , as the crowd demanded equal treatment under the motto of the French Republic: liberty, equality, fraternity. “We want to be heard… not pushed to the edge of society,” one veiled Frenchwoman at the rally told reporters .
Such public demonstrations – organized by Muslim civic groups and joined by supporters from across the spectrum – highlight that Muslims are not merely begging for acceptance; they are actively participating in democratic life. They vote, they run for office, they form organizations to protect civil liberties. From the Muslim mayors in Western capitals to youth-led initiatives combating hate crimes, Muslims are asserting that they are integral citizens of their countries. The narrative of helpless victimhood is giving way to one of empowerment. Yes, discrimination and hate crimes persist – over 40% of French Muslims say they have felt religious bias against them – but the response is not silence or resignation. It is organization, protest, dialogue, and legal action. Muslim communities are increasingly standing up to say: we are here, we contribute, and we will not be demonized for who we are. Continued…
Qamar Bashir
Press Secretary to the President (Rtd)
Former Press Minister at Embassy of Pakistan to France
Former MD, SRBC
Macomb, Detroit, Michigan
