Guest Post from Alya Hameed
If the events last week can remind us of anything, it is that we are beholden to learn and understand, engage and interact with the variety of cultures that define our multitudinous nation. I was plunged into a state of painful fury last week with the hateful murders of three young people in North Carolina—brilliant, unwaveringly kind, and yes, Muslim, students at the University of North Carolina. My first reaction—shock—was immediately replaced with sorrow, anger, and a distasteful lack of astonishment. Sure enough, subsequent news of attacks on mosques, families, an elderly Indian man (who, as a non-Muslim "mistaken" for a "black guy," reinforces the judicial hypocrisy asserted against being black along with the stigma of being brown) and others bolstered that sense of tired expectation, wrought from a growing normalization of Islamophobia in daily discourse.
If the events last week can remind us of anything, it is that we are beholden to learn and understand, engage and interact with the variety of cultures that define our multitudinous nation. I was plunged into a state of painful fury last week with the hateful murders of three young people in North Carolina—brilliant, unwaveringly kind, and yes, Muslim, students at the University of North Carolina. My first reaction—shock—was immediately replaced with sorrow, anger, and a distasteful lack of astonishment. Sure enough, subsequent news of attacks on mosques, families, an elderly Indian man (who, as a non-Muslim "mistaken" for a "black guy," reinforces the judicial hypocrisy asserted against being black along with the stigma of being brown) and others bolstered that sense of tired expectation, wrought from a growing normalization of Islamophobia in daily discourse.
But I won't live in resignation. Just as Meg recently wrote about
one important method of enacting social change (through real successes of
children in education), so do I seek out another method. Thus, I would prefer to dismantle my unsurprised
response through literature (in this case, young people's).
That's partly why the massive push for diversity in
children's and young adult literature has been particularly poignant for me. While first it spawned out of a desire to find my childhood rationalized in art, now I see my childhood as elusive, not as Susan Honeyman would describe it, but socially out of reach; it simply is not the childhood of Muslim American children now. Instead, my interest has turned toward normalizing—nay, humanizing—a minority
defined by current events and increased separation. Breaching a youthful
(and older) reader's vision and understanding of the Muslim American experience (or, Western
Muslim experience) may give space for compassion and patience by annihilating
fear, hate, and the constant reinforcement of otherness in the wake of global
events and crises. Empathy is a big deal, folks!
I think the following list of youth literature—from YA novel
to picture book, from words to graphics—holds immense potential for propagating societal
growth. Especially in this time of social tensions—where misunderstandings can breed hurt and violence—it seems extremely useful to
gather a list of stories that speak about and normalize American Muslim kids
(or Muslim kids internationally) for the general eye, and bring a lightness and
depth that reveals how complex and how
relatable these kids are.
