By 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…
Writer is Press Secretary to the President (Rtd)
Former Press Minister at Embassy of Pakistan to France
Former MD, SRBC
Macomb, Detroit, Michigan
