Being Muslim in a Mad, Sad World

And when I read this: Muslim men, who had not been tried or charged with a crime, were subjected to sickening acts of torture and humiliation. Acts that came at the hands of soldiers from our home, the United States, one of the foremost proponents -- at least publicly -- of human rights and the Geneva Conventions.

And when I read this: U.S. citizens and permanent residents with Middle Eastern ties have been arrested and held without charge or access to lawyers for months at a time, while their families have struggled against an officially imposed wall of silence.

These incidents, and others, loom as large in the minds of moderate Muslims as 9/11 does in the minds of Americans. The Muslims I have spoken with, and many others I know, have stressed that these events contribute to their formulation of history, their sense of what is right with this world, and of what is horribly wrong. It is these incidents, however, that are taken up by extremists and used to justify acts of violence that, by their very nature, are unjustifiable. And thus, the worldview and anxieties of mainstream Muslims are painted with the black brush of extremism.

As a Pakistani relative in Australia said, mainstream Muslims "do not support bloodshed. What they do support is a representation of their concerns."

But representation is often difficult to find, he said, expressing what is becoming a familiar sense of frustration.

Hearing his words, my mind seemed to open, and I realized that perspective is not black and white, defined as "us and them." It is nuanced and multifaceted, and it can be easily skewed to serve the will of whoever has the wiles to use it, including extremists.

As I continued talking to Muslim friends and relatives in Britain after the first London bombing, this point became clearer, as person after person expressed moral repugnance at the attacks in London and Egypt, but still showed concern and frustration about what is happening to Muslims daily.

"Those bombers were brainwashed," a Scottish relative said of the London Underground bombers. "They hear about Muslims dying in Bosnia, Chechnya, Iraq, Afghanistan, and emotion takes over." The bombers, she continued, wanted revenge, even if it made no sense, even if it was wrong.

Another Muslim friend, who was minutes away from a blast in London on July 7, put it this way: "Any moderate Muslim would be horrified with this. I could never imagine myself, in the name of my religion and what my religion stands for, killing another innocent human being, never. But we feel so outraged and traumatized by this, even though there are people out there who have been living with this, day in and day out, their whole families wiped out, and where is the shock and horror for them?"

The more information I come across, the more I realize how essential it is to understand the nuances of the Muslim perspective. I also realize that those nuances are present within my own mind.

I am appalled by the bloody-minded terrorists, who spew poison about America and think nothing of taking innocent life. And yet, I have come to understand that my belief in the United States and all it stands for has been shaken, and I am afraid to look at what lies underneath.

With a jolt, I realize I have an insight into the reality of so many Muslims, those familiar and those faceless, and this is what I realize they see: a seemingly endless parade of death and misery; a siege whose innocent victims are mothers, brothers, old men and children; an onslaught often brought on by countries singing of democracy and freedom, but offering neither. An onslaught made all the more horrifying by the searing reality that Muslim extremists continue to befoul the name of Islam with their killing of innocents, their indiscriminate war.

These realizations have not been easy ones. All my life, I have felt torn between my Pakistani-Muslim heritage and my American upbringing. Often, I would grow frustrated with the constant balancing act. Now, I believe this turmoil was preparation for the difficult times ahead, when my dual perspective would coalesce to form an outlook that can bridge two worlds.

I stand with a foot in both of these worlds, not a relativist, not an apologist, but a Muslim American woman hoping that one day Americans and moderate Muslims around the globe will emerge from the ominous shadow of violence, and try to understand each other.

Author's e-mail :

saleems@washpost.com

Sabaa Saleem is a British-born Muslim of Pakistani descent who came to the United States at the age of 1. She has relatives in England, Scotland, Pakistan, Australia, Canada, Costa Rica and Saudi Arabia.