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Colorado Muslims Want You to Know: “Such people do not speak in the name of Islam”

Colorado Muslims Want You to Know: “Such people do not speak in the name of Islam”

“May I help you?” the young woman with soft eyes and beautiful brown skin asked me in the sweltering parking lot, neck craning to look at me from behind my car. I was in the front seat, intently watching people walk into the mosque — namely the women in headscarves. I had no such thing, and I’d been cursing myself for the past few minutes that I didn’t even think of that before coming.

“Hi, yeah,” I smiled as I let my window all the way down. “Can I get in without covering my hair?” She asked what I was there for (“Press conference.”) and surmised that it’d probably be ok for me to enter as I was. Then she went back to her car and returned a moment later with an extra hijab for me … in case I wanted one.

Embarrassed, I stepped out and showed her my shorts. She didn’t think I would be too much of a problem, being that I’m with the press, but she insisted we try and see. I held the garment carefully — this was a gift — and felt an instant kinship with a woman I’d known for no more than a minute.

“You’re with me,” she said.

There are roughly 125,000 Muslims in the state of Colorado, and I just had an amazing introduction to their world. She was Alexandria Batiste, 25, a Metro State student and, on that day, an unofficial —but wholly gracious — ambassador of her faith.

Once inside the area designated for the conference, we took our shoes off.

“Not everyone will want to talk to you,” she warned me softly.

“Especially the older ones.” She said what I’ve heard from other communities: The press doesn’t have the best reputation, and our presence is often dubious. I told her I’m here to capture the grief we both feel — nothing more. She seemed pleased to hear that, and left me be.

I was early, and the few people there didn’t seem to notice me.

Once the room began filling, however, quizzical children pointed and whispered to one another; a group of teenagers sat themselves and fiddled with their phones, exchanging glances over their shoulder at me; one man asked politely what brought me there. Once he learned my mission, he bade me welcome in a reassuring tone and shuffled off quietly.

This day was a strange one for all involved.

I sipped from my water bottle, then recoiled in shame. This is Ramadan! How could you partake of water when everyone here is fasting and just as parched as you are? I slipped the canister back into my bag and tried to put the thirst behind me.

Before too long, the proceedings were underway. The session began with a prayer in song. Heads bowed, everyone was silent during the beautiful and haunting ululation that, in English, translates:

“The Almighty God is calling upon all of us in spite of our differences, our different ethnic backgrounds, our cultures, our colors. He’s calling upon us saying all of mankind was created from one male and one female, in reference to Adam and Eve, peace be upon them. Then we turned you into tribes and nations. Now the challenge is getting to know one another. And be mindful: Allah is all-knowing. He sees what we do. He hears what we say. He will hold us accountable in the Day of Judgment.”

The final notes rang in the air, and I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t break out into chills. The sound was in equal parts reverent and otherworldly.

“With a few text messages and a couple of calls, we have virtually the entire Muslim community from the state of Colorado here to stand in support of the community,” said Qusair Mohamedbhai, general counsel to the Colorado Muslim Society. “This level of participation and unity has never been seen, I can safely say, in Colorado.”

Scanning the room yielded men and women of all colors and ages donning hijabs, kufis (hats some of the men were wearing), abayas (robes). The scent of oils and incense permeated the air, and news crews scattered throughout the room were a curious sight for worshipers. There was an overt presence of cops, some with their shoes off, some who wore shoe covers instead. They stood around the perimeter and silently people-watched. Turns out, they were there not for security, per se; they were there in solidarity.

“Sadly, we are experiencing a historic day that nobody wants to experience,” said Aurora Police Department’s Chief Nick Metz. “Our hearts go out to the victims, the victims’ families, and all those who are impacted by what happened in Orlando.” People nodded.

“For us in Aurora, this hits pretty close to home, as we are quickly approaching the four-year anniversary of our own mass shooting at the Aurora Theater. I think it’s really important that we think about what terrorism is and what terrorism is not. Terrorism is not just about the incident itself. It plays a big part, of course — it shocks the conscience. But terrorism is also about the future impacts, about creating fear, creating divisiveness, creating hatred.”

“One thing I want to assure the community, both Muslims and non-Muslims, is that Islam believes in all prophets, from Adam, Noah, Abraham, Jesus, and Mohammed,” said Imam Shafi of the Colorado Muslim Society. “Islam is opposed to violence. Islam promotes dialogue — not violence. Islam does not allow us to kill anybody. I want to assure you of your safety. We reject what happened in Florida.”

“We’re not two days away from [burying Muhammed Ali],” reminded Imam Shamsuddeen Bin Masoud of the Metropolitan Denver North Islamic Center. “That’s who represents the Muslim-American community — not the terrorist coward who took innocent lives. Ali stood for justice, peace, love, and love of humanity. All humanity. The reason why he promoted [them] is because that’s what Islam stands for. We should not forget that here today. The best way to honor his memory, and those of the victims, is to stand united.”

ISTANBUL,TURKEY-DECEMBER 6, 2011 : Sultan Ahmed Mosque (Blue Mosque) with people in Istanbul on December 6 2011. The mosque is popularly known as the Blue Mosque for the blue tiles adorning the walls of its interior.
ISTANBUL,TURKEY-DECEMBER 6, 2011 : Sultan Ahmed Mosque (Blue Mosque) with people in Istanbul on December 6 2011. The mosque is popularly known as the Blue Mosque for the blue tiles adorning the walls of its interior.

Amal “The Poet” Kassir, an award-winning, spoken-word artist offered her mind. She said:

“Something that happens in response to these tragedies is oftentimes, when the word Muslim is introduced, we have to compromise that initial opportunity to mourn with a reaction.” She paused to let it sink in. “We are obligated to respond to this, rather than acknowledge the pain of the reality that this type of violence brings our country.”

More solemnly, she informed: “Between the hours of [2–5am], this situation burst into its height of hostage and massacre. And during this time, our brothers and sisters on the East Coast were praying their night prayers … they were eating breakfast to prepare for 18 hours of long fasting. Now this man who came with a gun, who calls himself a Muslim, he wouldn’t have eaten suhoor. He wouldn’t have eaten that breakfast with us which possibly means he didn’t have the intentions to fast with us. This is a disassociation. This does not represent our religion. This does not represent our ideology. This does not represent our community.”

She pleaded: “May we bury the guns like we bury our children.”

That’s right, I thought. Omar Mateen did this during Ramadan.

When I was called upon by Qusair, I asked, “Do you think the fact that he carried out these attacks during the holy month of Ramadan, when negative emotions are to be put away, shows that he wasn’t Muslim? Is the press wrong to call him Muslim?”

The Imam from the Rocky Mountain Islamic Center volunteered a response:

“When God prescribed fasting upon Muslims, He followed up with a reason why. ‘So you may achieve righteousness.’ Muslims’ behaviors are supposed to be more aligned with the teachings of Islam. Such acts in the time of fasting shows a clear contradiction. The person who did such an act did not really take the fruit of fasting, which is achieving righteousness,” he says.

“One of the biggest sins in Islam is to take a human life. The Prophet, peace be upon Him, actually said — talking not about Muslims, but non-Muslims — ‘Whoever takes a life of a non-Muslim who is given the promise of peace and security by Muslims, I will be the one who will prosecute him before God on the Day of Judgment.’ He assigned that job to Himself to assure that such people do not speak in the name of Islam. There’s definitely a clear contradiction with righteousness.”

Moments later, Amal came by, big green eyes flashing beneath the rim of her hijab, and placed a few water bottles on my table. I turned to the woman standing next to me and asked her, in a whisper, if drinking this would be seen as disrespectful ultimately.

“No,” she assured, drawing the word out. She offered her palms and waved them upward at me, insisting I imbibe. Though thankful, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. The room was hot by this point. Her expression and tone, however, put me at ease. “You are a guest. Please.”

“In this holy month of Ramadan, we’re particularly saddened and want to express our heartfelt condolences to the families of the victims and to the American people,” said Imam Abdur-Rahim Ali of the Northeast Denver Muslim Center. “We hope that The Almighty eases the suffering of us all and that He unites us as Americans.”

“This is a spiritual month for us, so this is just as shocking to the Muslim community, believe you me,” said Imam Shamsuddeen.

Imam Karim Abuzaid was quick to offer his insight. “Is this behavior that is accepted by God in the month of Ramadan? I was in Detroit last night. I flew in early this morning, and I started watching the initial pictures of that shooting while I was in the airport. When I saw there was a shooting in a nightclub at night, immediately I put my heart to rest. I said, ‘All praise be to God that this is not a Muslim.’ Because there is no way a Muslim can be in that place at that time in the month of Ramadan to kill. Impossible!” The audience echoed his sentiment. “Impossible. There is no way, no way this person is a Muslim. So I got on the airplane and I slept. And I woke up, and I am walking through the Denver airport, and everybody is looking at me! I thought, ‘What happened?’ And then I received a phone call.” He looked heartsick. “This is what we’re going through. We’re suffering. We’re really going through a hard time, like you. This is not us. Simply.”

He then recited a passage from the Holy Qu’ran:

“‘Whoever does not leave off acting falsehood and speaking falsehood — we’re talking about lying, cheating, back-biting, gossiping — then Allah does not want him, doesn’t need him to give up his food or wood. He can go and drink and eat.’”

He said, “Islam is about rituals and character at the same time.”

Then, he apologized about being so emotional, citing sleeplessness, but not a single soul in the house could blame him. Ill-rested or not, these are trying times for both the LGBT and the Muslim communities.

A real sense of sadness overcame me as I observed the faces of the Imams. These people have to remind others that they’re not terrorists every time something like this comes up. I asked about the Islamic State earlier in the afternoon, when I first learned they were taking credit for the act, and a young woman rolled her eyes, stating that it’s always on the Muslim community to clean up after those guys. “We’re regular people. They’re terrorists.”

“If ISIS was here, they’d cut our tongues out,” a Muslim gentleman who wished to remain anonymous told me. “We do not approve of one another. At all.”

“Every time something dumb and tragic happens, I hope and pray it’s not a Muslim,” Rahim Khan said after the press conference.

“The confusion between Muslims and ISIS is something we’re trying to combat. We’re not them, and they’re not us.”

“It shouldn’t be lost upon us that the two communities most impacted are two communities that are most often targets of hate; communities that are often unjustly judged; communities that are cruelly vilified in social media and other entities,” said Chief Metz. “There are some political and religious pundits who are, frankly, having a field day with what happened in an effort to create further divide in our community and our society. I think it’s important that we don’t allow the diabolical monster who took so many lives and destroyed thousands of [others] last night to continue to create fear, create hatred, created divide. We are much better than that.”

“We should reach out and see what we can learn from all this,” Rahim said. “This should be a time when our communities build bridges.”

Says Qusair concerning going foward with Denver Pride: “We ask you to celebrate, celebrate, celebrate.”

I believe all these requests can come to fruition.

ColoradoMuslimSociety.org

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