What does radical self-love look like?

Sometimes it looks like moving your family across the world so you can finally write a memoir.

For people living with mental illnesses, the emphasis on self-love and some of its assumed performances can be alienating. For people who have C-PTSD or have grown up in dysfunctional homes of continuously traumatizing incidents, the term self-love can ring hollow. As one friend recently said, it simply doesn’t penetrate.

And that’s ok.

In the times when we are stuck in our own programming, even when we have the dual awareness to recognize we are stuck but we can’t do much about it, it is important to realize that putting one foot in front of the other, or even just longing to, is self-love.

It is not actively destructing.

It is still you in there.

For me, a big part of practicing self-love has been doing things for myself, even when I don’t feel the love: booking therapy appointments in advance (even when my brain is telling me it’s hopeless so why bother), booking home support like cleaning services (even when my brain is telling me I am worthless because I need help to do basic things), or any other steps (small and large) I might take towards helping myself continue to survive.

It is a common thing among folks living with mental illness that we can only feel in memory, never in the present moment. Our nervous systems have been trained expertly to shut down in the here and now as a protective mechanism.

And that’s ok.

That is your body loving yourself.

A big part of healing is in rolling one’s consciousness forward to now. In building one’s own safe spaces and then allowing one’s self to feel in those spaces. Even if little by little.

Radical self-love looks like such commitments to survival, even when your brain tells you that you do not want to survive. Radical self-love even looks like simply yearning to take these steps, even when your brain tells you that you cannot go on.

This is an act of radical self-love.

I am set to begin a sabbatical or leave of absence from my advocacy work with Alberta Muslim Public Affairs Council (AMPAC) on August 1st.   The community work I have set in motion will graciously be continued by my committee of dedicated directors and volunteers. This leave will entail me and my family moving to Morocco for six months to visit family and make space for the research and writing of a creative non-fiction memoir

About the project:

Why do you want to enter? Simon Levy asked me outside the entrance of the Casablanca Jewish Museum he founded and directed as of 1997. An armed Moroccan military officer stood close by, listening to our conversation. When I replied that I wanted to see the Moroccan Jewish artifacts inside, he seemed surprised, and gestured to the hijab covering my head. He said, it is not often that we have your people visiting the museum, before waving for me to follow him inside.

Five years later, I was sitting in Levy’s old office with the new museum director, Zhor Rehihil, who took over primary curatorship after Levy’s death. We were talking about my research project and dropping names of historians doing work on the departure of Jews from Morocco between 1948 and 1968. I was explaining my interest in the silences of its memory, particularly the anxieties brought on by the Holocaust and a host of other issues largely absent from both Jewish and Muslim memories.

The Holocaust had nothing to do with Morocco, she protested. I let her finish without agreeing or disagreeing, wrapping up our conversation with a promise to keep in touch and update her when my work was completed. As she was walking me out, she looked at my hijab and said, you know, that headscarf will make your research very difficult. Trust, in this field, is a complicated thing.

It was only in wading through the multivocal, emotionally-charged and often painful memories of the departure that I would come to recognize the truth of her observation and how my own work might come to be perceived because of my identities. I also came to notice patterns of belonging and rootlessness in my own story as a convert to Islam, living in a foreign country, descendant from immigrants and married to a man who also gave up his place of origin as a Mediterranean migrant.

The pursuit of homelands, both literally and figuratively, shape my experiences – both a physical and an internal migration echoed in the movement of the people I have studied and how the memory of their journeys is expressed.

What does it mean to search for home as a Muslim convert, wading through established communities? What does it mean to exist as a racialized Muslim woman in Canada, in an era of rising Islamophobia? What does it mean to immigrate to another land in pursuit of the familiar? For myself, my ancestors, my spouse?

Deeper than this, what does it mean to look for home as a wandering soul? I can hear the revolutionary chants of the Arab Spring protesters on the television my first time in Morocco: Jannah, jannah, jannah, Jannah al-wataniya. Paradise, paradise, paraside, Paradise the homeland. 

The project that I am working on is a creative non-fiction memoir, a true novel of sorts, that will braid together these stories of migration and homeland, combining my academic research with stories from my life and those close to me. I am unsure yet if the writing I am making space for will become a graphic novel script that I will commission an illustrator for, or it will remain a work of prose.

I am asking for support while I take some time off from my advocacy work to travel back to Morocco for visual research and to conduct additional interviews for the writing of this work. As I said, my sabbatical begins August 1st and will continue for 6 months. I hope to return to Canada with a complete first draft and have set up a mentorship relationship with a Professor of literature and writing to ensure I achieve this goal.

All I have to offer is my participation. All I am able to do is take each voice in the turbulence of remembering and listen to them equally. I cannot do this without your support.

To learn more about this act of radical self-love and this project, to support it and to access exclusive benefits that I am providing for my supporters, please visit my Patreon account: https://www.patreon.com/homeland/


16265681_10154323322850753_2679466403133227560_nNakita Valerio is an award-winning writer, academic, and community organizer based in Edmonton, Canada. 

Whether you are managing a team in your company, a committee in a non-profit organization, a classroom, or an online space, we have all heard about how important it is to have safe spaces. There is, however, a common misconception that spaces are safe, just because we say that they are. While it is crucial that the boundaries of what is and is not acceptable in any given space are announced, it is not enough to state the safety of a space alone to warrant it as such.

Safe spaces are, in fact, carefully and ruthlessly curated.

It might surprise some folks to hear this but I learned this fairly recently from a community member in a space I had built as part of an interfaith circle I co-facilitate. I think it is important for us to mark these turning points because too much of community organizing rhetoric is immersed in people just “needing to know” rather than reflecting the actual (often challenging) process of learning as we go.

At the beginning of the event, I proclaimed that this was a safe space for everyone to feel free to share their experiences, speak their minds, and be vulnerable – and I meant that. What I naively hadn’t taken into consideration was the other people in the space (it was a public event) and that they might not share my acceptance of others or the parameters of what I feel constitutes safety.

In fact, the community member who pointed this out to me made it very clear that her non-binary child would be unlikely to feel safe in a space dominated by members of conservative and orthodox religious communities who were fairly likely to shun them or worse. And she was right. Her kid would not have been safe there, because as soon as she said that, I looked around the room and I did note people who I remembered to be openly discriminatory and hateful towards such folks.

I was in a compassion bubble.

And it was, mercifully, popped. I suspect it has something to do with me never really having good boundaries as a kid and a tendency I have had my whole life to project myself and my worldview onto people around me. I thought I had gotten better at dealing with that but I was wrong.

Since that time, I have paid more attention to spaces I know are also considered “safe” and have taken note of how such a label came to be placed there. Several feminist groups on Facebook, in particular, have a long list of rules to follow and hurtful terms that are prohibited – and every new member of the group is supposed to read through this pinned post and then comment on it as acknowledgment of their having read and understood its terms. It is a social contract that is put front and center. When respected, the rules allow for authentic and vulnerable interactions to take place in a way that might otherwise be challenging or impossible.

It made me realize that not only was I assuming that everyone is as willing to accept other ways of being in the world as I do,  but I also had no safety plan in the event that something went wrong.

A safety plan is essentially a series of actions based on hazardous “what ifs” in any given scenario. This, of course, is based on what we deem to be unacceptable words or behaviours in a space, whether that be in person or online. And ultimately, the plan is in place in order to prescribe our reactions and, I would think, in order to overcome any fear paralysis or inability to act in the event that something very disturbing occurs.

I remember at the first Black Lives Matter – Edmonton town hall meeting, a young Black woman was voicing her opinion about the topic at hand and an old white man from the back of the room started yelling in a degrading manner that she ought to raise her voice and speak up when she’s talking to us. Everyone froze. You could feel how uncomfortable the room was. And without skipping a beat or a moment’s hesitation, one of the co-founders of what would become Black Women United YEG stood up and told that man to keep quiet or get out. She interrupted his very abusive tone and manner with such a fierceness, my mouth literally hung open. She then called out the folks who began apologizing for him, even as he showed zero remorse.

She knew what to do when the contract of the room was violated.

Why?

She had seen it countless times before. She could guess where this might be going and she knew that if she didn’t interrupt it, it might escalate. She knew that the first trespass is a violation of the sacred safety of a space. And she had zero tolerance for that.

I was in awe because I had grown up in a state of bewilderment that had gotten me into some pretty scary scenarios. I, like many others, had been socialized to diminish my intuitive voice, to ignore blatant red flags, and other such concerning self-permeability in the name of not making things awkward. The result was consent and boundary violations to my personhood, again and again. And I was never taught why this was happening or how to defend myself against it. I was confused and let down every time it happened.

Later, I was fortunate enough to take violence de-escalation training with the same amazing woman and one exercise in particular jumped out at me as memorable for the same reasons. We were instructed to put our hand on the leg of the person next to us and they were supposed to tell us to take it off in an assertive and vocal tone. As we went around the circle, all of us were laughing awkwardly and weren’t exactly as assertive as we should have been.

It was our social conditioning showing – the kind of conditioning that doesn’t keep people safe.

Rather than just doing the exercise as we were taught that it can be effective in stopping unwanted behaviour, we shrugged things off, unable to assert autonomy over our own bodies. That is, until it came to her turn. I put my hand on her knee and, again, without skipping a beat, she put the fear of God in me, growling for me to take my damn hand off her knee.

I wanted to applaud. I was in awe again.

But honestly, it just made me realize how let down we all are by what we have been taught and what has been deemed more important for the public school curriculum or for our households. Why isn’t it mandatory to teach folks about behavioural patterns of narcissistic predators and how they groom vulnerable people? Why aren’t we taught the typical behaviours of people with implicit bias or who are overtly racist? Why isn’t economic or labour exploitation taught in school so we can recognize it when it happens? Why aren’t we taught that our safety and that of our children and our colleagues and our community members is more important than anything else? More important than the customer always being right or the benefit of the doubt being awarded to one who just rubs us the wrong way. More important than the reputation of an organization in the event that it needs to cancel a meeting to keep its personnel safe. More important than the feelings of a sorry abuser whose behaviour never changes.

Why have we been taught to put our safety last? Everything comes before it: money, love, the feelings of the ones who harm us – even if they lack basic human empathy.

The answer to these questions is simple: systems that exploit are designed to be exploitative and they are upheld by those who benefit from them.

I have noticed, since drawing up rules and safety plans for the business I run and the committees I chair, that people tend to breathe a sigh of collective relief when the plans are brought out. They know how important these things are preemptively.

And the ones who huff and puff about them? I have my eye on you.

Next time, we will discuss practical steps to creating social safety plans, particularly in community organizing settings.


16265681_10154323322850753_2679466403133227560_nNakita Valerio is an award-winning writer, academic, and community organizer based in Edmonton, Canada. 

The Drawing Board is back! Well, to be honest, we never really left but we did take a year-long break from blogging, vlogging and social media for many good reasons.

What have we been up to?

We have been busy working! Throughout the year,  we have continued to serve clients, letting some old friends go and making some new ones! We have also continued to serve our communities through our advocacy and educational work.

We have been busy convocating! The owner and editor-in-chief of The Drawing Board, Nakita Valerio, finished her Masters degree in history at the University of Alberta last year so believe it or not, we were busy thesising, defending and graduating!

We have been busy researching! In addition to regular work for The Drawing Board, Nakita also undertook a research fellowship on anti-Semitism and anti-Muslim racism in Canada with the Tessellate Institute! Keep your eyes peeled for the resulting publications which should be out any day now!

We have been busy learning the Truth! While we have been off, two of our staff writers took the time to read all six volumes of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Reports. We encourage everyone to do the same.

We have been busy birthing! In addition to keeping new clients happy and getting her parchment, Nakita also went through an incredible (and difficult) 9 months of pregnancy which ended in a spectacular birth. We welcome Baby Sujood to The Drawing Board family!

We have been busy recruiting! In addition to our fabulous team members and contributors of old, Elisabeth and Erin, we have also added another fabulous femme to The Drawing Board team, just in time for our brand relaunch! We will give Olga a proper welcome shortly!

We have been busy learning how to center accessibility! We have spent some time learning about how to make our vlogs more accessible with simple tools like transcriptions and Closed Captioning. We hope to apply what we have learned to everything we are doing!

We have been preparing to relaunch! We have been hard at work reconfiguring our website to better reflect the work that we do for you!


The Drawing Board is delighted to relaunch our website and our social media after much anticipation!

The new site clearly outlines the philosophy behind our company and the two streams of services we now offer: corporate/non-profit and academics/writers. Our main goal with our redevelopment was to offer as sleek and as simple a design as possible to reflect the professionalism of our company, center accessibility and to let our services speak for themselves in the manner we know best: through good, clean writing.

In addition to rebuilding the design and layout of our website, we are also committed to reinvigorating our blog, Youtube channel, Facebook feed and have finally joined the Instagram revolution. Be sure to follow us on all platforms and subscribe to our Youtube to keep up with us!

Let’s file this under the category of “advice I didn’t follow in grad school, but should have.”

There are a lot of think-pieces surfacing these days on the mental health cost of being an academic, and rightfully so. The rise of neo-liberalism in academic institutions has put unseen pressures on academics, provided them with less job security, and has destroyed anything remotely resembling a work-life balance. Many academics have either left their disciplines to work in the private sector or have cobbled together an income from temporary contracts, accepting that they will never have steady, long-term employment at a University, despite decades of training.

But mental illnesses are only one physical ailment on the rise in academics. There are other considerations that are not mentioned as often which can dramatically affect the health and well-being of graduate students and scholars, and can exacerbate existing conditions, including mental illnesses. Below I will take you through some of these issues and some suggestions I wish I had endeavoured to take seriously while completing my graduate studies.

  1. Sedentary Lifestyle: Sitting in front of a computer or texts day after day takes a toll on the body that is difficult to measure. Being sedentary for most of the day can exacerbate mental illnesses like anxiety and depression, and they also increase your risk for cardiovascular diseases. The sedentary lifestyle that accompanies graduate studies and an academic career is tough to deal with as it seems to just “come with the territory,” and very real efforts need to be put into combating the “sitting syndrome”. Standing desks might help break up the routine, or keeping an exercise ball in one’s office to replace your chair once and awhile can help keep you active, even when you have to work. You should also periodically take brisk walks, even if it is just around your department. The movement is good for you and it will help refresh your mind so you can come back to your work with new insights and ideas.
  2. Obesity: Related to the sedentary lifestyle is the risk of becoming obese which is dramatically increased in academics because of poor food choices and a lack of physical activity. A lot of people notice significant weight gain during their degrees and depending on the length of one’s program this can have significant long-term health effects, if not properly addressed. Keep active and pack a health lunch with snacks and plenty of water daily to combat this risk.
  3. Heart Disease: Interrelated to all of this is the risk of heart disease which can be exacerbated by inactivity, poor nutrition and/or obesity. The excessive stress that comes with an academic lifestyle, particularly the pressures to teach, publish and research simultaneously can contribute to factors which lead to cardiovascular disease.
  4. Diabetes: Graduate students especially are known for making poor nutritional choices, especially eating foods that are full of sugar and simple carbohydrates. The sugar boost that people get from consuming these foods results in a burst of energy to help people push themselves harder in their work, but the subsequent blood sugar crash might render your brain useless in a very short amount of time. Over time, these poor eating habits lessen your cell’s receptivity to insulin and blood sugar, leading to diseases like metabolic syndrome and even diabetes. Opt for whole foods as much as possible and limit overtly sugary foods.
  5. Exhaustion: There are no surprises here. Academics and graduate students are the chronically sleep-deprived. There always seems to be one more sentence to write, another article to edit, or another book to read. And without set working hours, it can be difficult to set personal limits, especially when someone is very emotionally invested in their work. Do what you need to do to get to sleep at a reasonable hour on a regular basis. Being exhausted puts you at risk for a host of issues, including exacerbating existing conditions like anxiety, depression, cardiovascular disease and so forth.

These are only a few conditions which can physically manifest when working as an academic or a grad student. And even though it can get annoying to have every single person you know is telling you to rest, take it easy, and take care of yourself: you really need to take that seriously and put your health first. Your work cannot be accomplished if you are ill, and it certainly won’t get done if you are dead. If you won’t do it for yourself, recognize that the world needs you and your work too.

Take care,

Nakita


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Nakita Valerio is an award-winning writer, academic, and community organizer based in Edmonton, Canada. She recently completed graduate studies and work as a research assistant in History and Islamic-Jewish Studies at the University of Alberta, as well as a research fellowship on Islamophobia and anti-Semitism for The Tessellate Institute. Nakita serves her community as the Vice President of External Affairs with Alberta Muslim Public Affairs Council (AMPAC), as an advisor for the Chester Ronning Center for the Study of Religion and Public Life,  and as a member of the Executive Fundraising Board for the YIWCL Cree Women’s Camp. Nakita is the co-founder of Bassma Primary School in El Attaouia, Morocco and is currently working on a graphic novel memoir weaving her experiences abroad with her community work and research.

 

In my last article about the hysteria around Canada’s Motion 103 on Islamophobia this past winter, I alluded to the idea that Islamophobia as a term might not accurately convey anti-Muslim bigotry or racialized hatred endured by Muslims. I also noted how in the discussions around the use of that term in the federal motion, Islamophobes who were arguing that the whole thing should be trashed were not actually interested in whether or not the term accurately described what Muslims face. They had their own hateful agenda centered on shutting down the motion and stirring up anger towards Muslims and the Liberals which became abundantly clear in the death threats and hate mail received in the tens of thousands by MP Iqra Khalid who put forth the motion.

But there are people who are actually concerned about whether or not the term Islamophobia is good enough. As an academic, I am preoccupied with not only definitions of terms but how people use and think of terms, irrespective of their official definitions. And I would say, yes, Islamophobia is insufficient for some of the phenomena we describe with that term. That doesn’t mean we should throw it out completely and I would even say that we could continue using it until we find something adequate to slowly replace it with and that replacement is successfully filtered into popular memory… but before I suggest what to do with it, I will talk about the reasons it just doesn’t work anymore.

  1. It centers the person who fears/hates. The first thing to note is that Islamophobia is not about what Muslims endure. Unlike racism, anti-Semitism or sexism, Islamophobia does not name the violence that Muslim people are faced with. It isn’t about the micro-aggressions, verbal assaults, fearing for one’s personal safety, systemic marginalization or obstacles Muslims face to self-actualization. It isn’t about having to watch your brethren globally massacred. It isn’t about how you feel when people demand that you apologize for the actions of extremist militants. None of that is really encapsulated in the term Islamophobia because a phobia is used to describe the irrational fears of the person who fears, not the person who has to deal with the symptoms of those fears. In this way, the term Islamophobia actually centers the person who either fears or hates Muslims, marginalizing Muslim voices in the very term which is meant to describe their marginalization in the first place.
  2. Not all hatred is rooted in fear. Using Islamophobia to refer to hatred and violence lobbed at Muslims assumes a subscription to what has become a pervasive (but false) axiom in our society: that the root of hatred is fear and ignorance. I actually do not believe this. The root of hatred is not always fear and it certainly is not always ignorance. In fact, historically, the root of hatred is more often power: the desire to consolidate, maintain, and build it. If this were not the case, we might have been able to sing kumbayah with hateful people like Hitler and his Nazi henchman to show them the err of their ways. But Hitler didn’t fear Jews and he certainly was not ignorant of some knowledge about them. He scapegoated Jews and other minorities to consolidate power according to his own warped worldview and the one he exploited in his society. Similarly, using a term which ends in -phobia connotes fear and ignorance, and subliminally excuses the person who hates.
  3. It conflates Islam and Muslims. Unsurprisingly, when people actually legitimately fear something, it usually isn’t “Islam(s)”, but some horrendous cultural practices found within the purview of some Muslims. By calling it Islamophobia, we conflate Islam with Muslims and basically declare them to be the same thing when they are not. Islam is a cultural and comprehensive philosophical, ethical, and legal system. People who use Christianoform secular definitions of “religion” think that separating Islam from bad cultural practices is a matter of separation “religion from culture.” This is a poor way of thinking of Islam. The term deen which Muslims use to refer to Islam better translates to “way of life” meaning a cultural system. Where people get caught up is in forgetting that people can actually subscribe to multiple cultural systems at any given time and some of those cultural expressions come to the fore dependent on the socio-political context they find themselves in. That’s a very simplified version of describing how we can get practices that are “unIslamic” in “Muslim” cultures. These practices might even be justified as Islamic but that doesn’t actually make them Islamic. So this conflation doesn’t work.
  4. It ignores the economy of hatred that produces Muslimophobia(?). Fear of Muslims by regular folks is very real. People are inundated daily by lies about Islam and Muslims, and they come to believe those things. Who wouldn’t fear a terrorist? Who wouldn’t fear the obscene garbage Saudi Arabia passes off as Islamic law these days? Crucifying teenagers? Lashing raped women? Come on, none of this bullshit has anything to do with Islam. What people see in places like KSA should be called what it is: Wahhabism – a 19th century political-cultural cult centered on the power of the Al-Saud family which obfuscates its false origins by masquerading as Islam. It is an insult to the Prophet sallahu alayhi wa salam and an abomination to the guidance sent to him by Allah that a government funding terror globally, obliterating women’s rights, and single-handedly causing the most recent man-made famine in Yemen could call itself “Islamic” or be the keepers of the Hijaz. Period. People are taught to believe that those things are Islam itself though and they rightly fear those things. But they are merely pawns in a much larger, transnational game of manufacturing consent for modern Crusades which generate untold wealth and power for elites in Western countries – and Islamophobia does not adequately describe that practice.

So what do I tentatively propose instead?

To describe the manufactured fears of cultural and political practices commonly found in Muslim cultures, especially when those fears are found in non-elite folks who do not hold positions of power, we might use the term Muslimophobia. These people tend only to keep their fears to themselves or they might talk about these fears in some groups. They are susceptible to becoming radicalized easily, particularly when preyed upon online. This group is also the easiest to change the minds and hearts of. They are the most likely to alter their worldviews through interaction with real Muslims and by learning more about Islam. These are the people whose attention community organizers should focus on in order to build numbers of allies.

To describe those who manufacture those fears for personal and political gain, we can say that they exhibit anti-Muslim hatred or bigotry. These people might be in government, policy-making, or media. They are harder to convince in terms of the unethical nature of their hatred. They often gain financially from their hatred and construct their identities around their hatred. If one manages to change these peoples’ minds, they become very strong allies and often center their lives on fighting anti-Muslim hatred to fill the void left by their hatred when they change their ways. Community organizers, advocates and lobbyists should focus on these people to build numbers of allies.

For those with a Crusading ethos who hold key power positions and have openly declared war on Islam with the hopes of obliterating the religion from the face of the earth, we might describe them as engaging in anti-Islamic hatred, repression and genocide. Their goal is to eliminate the cultural system of Islam from their borders and maybe even globally which would entail having to kill off Muslims. These people are like Nazis or are Nazis and should be treated as such.

These terms might not take hold right away but I am certainly going to try to start using them more frequently and encouraging others to do so as well.

What terms would you use?


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Nakita Valerio is an award-winning writer, academic, and community organizer based in Edmonton, Canada. She recently completed graduate studies and work as a research assistant in History and Islamic-Jewish Studies at the University of Alberta, as well as a research fellowship on Islamophobia and anti-Semitism for The Tessellate Institute. Nakita serves her community as the Vice President of External Affairs with Alberta Muslim Public Affairs Council (AMPAC), as an advisor for the Chester Ronning Center for the Study of Religion and Public Life,  and as a member of the Executive Fundraising Board for the YIWCL Cree Women’s Camp. Nakita is the co-founder of Bassma Primary School in El Attaouia, Morocco and is currently working on a graphic novel memoir weaving her experiences abroad with her community work and research.

 

This past winter, Canadian MP Iqra Khalid put forth the now-infamous Motion 103 in the Canadian parliament – a 125 word document which recognizes the existence of Islamophobia and other discriminations, and categorically condemns them. Similar motions have passed in the past, including those condemning anti-Semitism and racism. What had previously been a straight-forward process turned into a ridiculous attack on both the motion and the MP with Khalid receiving tens of thousands of pieces of hate mail about the wording of the motion. While the motion thankfully passed, that hasn’t stopped the deluge of hateful rhetoric around the motion, nor its rippling social after-effects as people continue repeat the same intellectually-impoverished arguments about Islamophobia. So-called critics published op-eds in conservative tabloids and on social media platforms claiming the following:

  1. The concept of Islamophobia infringes on the right to free speech. People actually tried to claim that naming a discrimination meant they could no longer criticize Muslim countries or Islam itself. Forgive me while I take a second to crack my knuckles and wipe my glasses before I get on the debunking bullshit train. First of all, critique is an intrinsic part of the Muslim tradition and has been that way for centuries. The history of Islam is literally one scholarly critique after another to infinitude. Have people making this claim even read Islamic legal texts? The cross-pollination of past case studies and rebuttals of other scholars is nothing but criticism. But one would never know that if they actually believed that, for example,  criticizing Saudi Arabia’s laws against the mobility of women were the same thing as say, calling a Muslim a sand n*gger before ripping their hijab off. Clearly not the same thing. Maybe if the same people weren’t so busy trying to pretend that critique of Israel was anti-Semitic they wouldn’t have such a hard time separating concepts that literally no one else conflates. Also, what makes half of the people making this claim think they know enough about Islam to genuinely critique beyond the usual “Muslim women are oppressed” and “Mohammed was a false prophet” arguments we have been hearing since literally the medieval period? Practicing Muslims themselves are barely qualified to engage critically with discourses on Islamic law simply because they are not trained in that disciplinary field. You wouldn’t ask someone without at least a theology degree to start questioning philosophical claims made by the Pope, but suddenly everyone is an expert on complex Islamic ethics, philosophy and law? Alright then.

Secondly, nothing about the motion was enforceable at all. Why can’t people understand anything about Canadian political processes? Was no one paying attention in Junior High School? Also, a similar motion passed unanimously in October 2016 that also used the word Islamophobia. Why is the short-term memory in this country completely non-existent? Does no one value even the most contemporary of histories? I have more faith in the historical narratives of goldfish at this point. I mean, really.

Thirdly, even if it was enforceable, we don’t actually have free speech in Canada – we have freedom of expression. Hate speech is not included in that so if someone’s idea of criticizing Islam is actually just Muslim bashing and spreading hatred and inciting people to violence: guess what? This isn’t America. That’s a punishable offence in Canada, thank God. The only people I ever see going on and on univocally about free speech are pseudo-neo-Nazis, real neo-Nazis or The New Atheists (not to be confused with regular atheists) who use that argument as a crutch for pushing their hateful agendas. Yes, we need to be free to express ourselves, and we need to protect that right especially in the press, but hate speech isn’t a part of that.

  1. The motion was giving Muslims special rights. Nope. Also, even if it did, the social marginalization endured by Muslims would mean that anything that gave them some “privileges” would just be for the purpose of buffering the effect systemic violence against them: but, you know, equality always feels like oppression to those in power. As usual. Also, this is the same argument that racist people have used about Indigenous people for years. Complaining about peoples’ “special rights” (most of which are total myths) when the system one benefits from has spent generations committing cultural genocide against them is just blind hypocrisy.
  2. Islamophobia doesn’t exist. Yes, people actually tried to claim this. They tried to claim that Muslims are treated identically to white Christoform secular people in this country. Riiiiiight. Newsflash people: denying Islamophobia exists is Islamophobia. Just stop. When marginalized people tell you they are marginalized, your only job is to listen and to do everything in your power to dismantle the systems which cause it. If someone is not doing this for Muslims, I really hate to think how they treat people who confide in them about their physical or mental illnesses, or people who have endured trauma. The empathy gap among people who identify to the right of the political spectrum is startling and needs to be better examined.

Sure, Islamophobia might not accurately convey anti-Muslim bigotry or racialized hatred endured by Muslims but that is a completely different discussion that these groups were simply not willing to have because they don’t actually care. By putting all of the micro-aggressions Muslims endure under the categories of only hatred and bigotry, it also undermines the actual fear that perpetrators feel about Muslims, most of which is stirred up by a global Islamophobia industry in which a hell of a lot of states and transnational entities are fully-invested. This is the modern crusading ethos in action, and there is money to be made by the manufactured social consent acquired when people are made to either hate or fear Muslims. It’s why  a lot of people no longer bat an eyelash when the MOAB is dropped on Afghanistan (yes, even if it “only” killed a few dozen people and militants) or #45 does missile strikes in Syria without seeking government approval. It’s why people even cheer this crap on.

Pretending Islamophobia doesn’t exist is what happens when people haven’t gotten out of their own privileged echo chambers to actually listen to the real, living, breathing human beings around them. They don’t even know how fully fabricated their worldview is by powers who seek only their own entrenchment and gain. They don’t recognize that even having to manufacture public consent for Islamophobia is indicative of how powerful that public could truly be if they only knew to rise up against the machine that harms all of us.  And, as a result, Muslims continue to be utterly dehumanized, marginalized and murdered in the process.

Should I tell you how I really feel?


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Nakita Valerio is an award-winning writer, academic, and community organizer based in Edmonton, Canada. She recently completed graduate studies and work as a research assistant in History and Islamic-Jewish Studies at the University of Alberta, as well as a research fellowship on Islamophobia and anti-Semitism for The Tessellate Institute. Nakita serves her community as the Vice President of External Affairs with Alberta Muslim Public Affairs Council (AMPAC), as an advisor for the Chester Ronning Center for the Study of Religion and Public Life,  and as a member of the Executive Fundraising Board for the YIWCL Cree Women’s Camp. Nakita is the co-founder of Bassma Primary School in El Attaouia, Morocco and is currently working on a graphic novel memoir weaving her experiences abroad with her community work and research.