T
wo
weekends
ago,
I
went back home to Lake
Orion, something I do
every month. It’s nice to sleep in
my own bed and spend time with
my family, but I like
Ann Arbor more than
my hometown. Ann
Arbor is more diverse
(which is something
that just about no one
says) and I feel more
comfortable
here
(for once I’m not the
only Black girl in my
class). If you have an
obsession with lakes,
like spending the day
on a boat or like high-school
football, then you’ll love spending
time in Lake Orion. But if you’ve
lived there for your entire life,
aren’t impressed by lakes, aren’t
interested in football and don’t
understand the point of standing
on a boat all day, then you’ll get
bored quickly. Every time I get
on the freeway in the direction of
the small town I’ve lived in since I
was a toddler, I think, “I should’ve
stayed in Ann Arbor.”
There usually isn’t much to do
besides go shopping or see a movie,
but thankfully “Hidden Figures”
was playing. When I first heard
about this film, I knew I had to see
it. The casting seemed incredible
— my favorite actress Taraji P.
Henson and my favorite singer
Janelle Monae had major roles —
and the film is centered around
the lives of Black women, which is
something I can relate to but have
trouble finding in major films. A
cast with minority female leads is
rare in major Hollywood movies,
which made “Hidden Figures” an
important movie for my family to
see. Additionally, the film focused
on the contributions these women
made to the Space Race and U.S.
history, which is a topic I love and
want to know more about.
I felt like I needed to see this
movie in theaters, that it was my
responsibility to make my family
members watch it. A couple of
weeks before I went home, I tried
to organize a family outing to go
see it, but that didn’t work out so
well. So while my sister and dad
stayed home, my mom and I went
to see it. I expected the theater to
be empty. “I really don’t think that
many people from our town will
see this movie,” I told my mom
before we left.
The reason for this belief had
nothing to do with the film itself,
but the way I saw the community
I lived in. Lake Orion’s slogan is
“Where Living is a Vacation,” but
in 2016 I nicknamed
it “Trump Country”
— a catch-all term to
describe anything I
don’t like about it. The
nickname
seemed
appropriate:
The
people in my town
who supported Trump
were very vocal about
it. Someone in my town
hand-made a massive
paper mâché Trump
sign for their yard and almost every
day in my macroeconomics class
a kid would interrupt the lesson
to talk about how great Trump
was. But I never saw a “Stronger
Together” sign on anyone’s yard
and outside of my friend group, I
never heard people defend Hillary
Clinton or Bernie Sanders as
strongly as they defended Trump.
I also got the sense that many
people in my town were not
comfortable with Black people.
Maybe it was the stares that I or
anyone in my family got any time
we left our house, or maybe it was
passing a car with a Confederate
flag bumper sticker every day
on my way into high school
until my junior year, biking past
trucks with massive Confederate
flags attached to their backs or
seeing people wear Confederate
flag
necklaces
and
T-shirts.
Whenever I caught someone or a
group staring at me or my family,
whenever I saw an image of the
stars and bars, it reaffirmed my
belief that my hometown had no
place for me or my family. Based
on these events and experiences, I
did not think that too many people
in my town would be interested in
seeing “Hidden Figures.”
But I was so wrong: The theater
was packed. I looked back at my
mom and gave her an expression
of pure shock, then looked back
at everyone in the theaters, then
looked back at my mom again with
the same shocked expression.
While I searched for a place to
sit, I began to realize how skewed
and unfair my characterization
of Lake Orion was. I call my
hometown “Trump Country,” but
it actually isn’t — Hillary Clinton
won the majority of votes in my
county. Obviously, not every car
in that town has the Confederate
flag attached to it or on its bumper;
I only remember the ones that
did because they reinforced my
belief that I didn’t belong and that
my community could not accept
me. It was difficult for me to see
the positive aspects of my town
because I spent so much time trying
to craft scenarios that would get me
out. Also, I’m a bit of a pessimist; I
expect the worst in everything to
avoid feeling disappointed. But I
need to stop allowing perceived
future disappointment to shape
my perceptions — especially my
perceptions of others.
Once my mom and I sat down,
I thought about what it meant to
sit in the theater, surrounded by
people who didn’t look like me but
wanted to see a movie that dealt
with race and the challenges Black
women faced during the 1960s. It
showed me that confronting issues
of race is awkward, and at certain
points during the film I could tell
that people were uncomfortable.
There were times when my mom
and I, as well as the other few
Black people in the audience,
would laugh or shake our heads —
but no one else in the audience did.
Only a few people in the audience
were in on all of the jokes while the
majority did not understand what
was so funny.
This mirrors aspects of the
debates over topics such as the
Black Lives Matter movement,
immigration,
women’s
rights
and LGBTQ rights. On one side,
people cannot, or may not, be
willing to understand the obstacles
minorities and women encounter
and why they feel threatened. For
people on the other side, these
obstacles are obvious and clearly
need to be broken down. But for
both sides to be united, each
needs to confront — not avoid,
dismiss or just talk about — the
problems that exist. In addition,
neither
can
allow
negative
preconceived notions to affect
their expectations. Both sides
need to act; that may take the
form of learning about someone
else’s experience or speaking up
for your beliefs in classes or on the
street during a protest. This may
be uncomfortable or awkward, but
it is necessary in combining two
divided groups into one.
A
fter months of dread,
you’d think we’d be
prepared. Many of us
played games in our head as we
anticipated the coming Trump
administration. What would
he do? How would he do it? We
worried about authoritarian
and fascist tendencies. But
how far could he really push
it? Isn’t this America? At the
very least, we hoped that a
minimum requirement of lip
service to American ideals and
values would limit his ability to
undermine the rights of those
with claims upon American
compassion and inclusion.
It’s worse than we feared.
Most
immediately,
many
of us are reeling from the
weekend’s blanket travel ban
applied to all refugees and to
the citizens of seven majority-
Muslim countries, including
Iraqis who had risked their
lives to serve as interpreters for
the U.S. military.
But here’s what’s keeping
me up at night: the new
administration’s statement on
the occasion of International
Holocaust Remembrance Day.
What, you may ask, could be so
disturbing about what should
be a pro forma declaration
about the horror of genocide,
sympathy for the victims and
assurances that we won’t let it
happen again?
There is so much wrong with
the
Trump
administration’s
statement
that
it
is
hard
to
know
where
to
start.
Beyond
imposing
a
travel
ban on refugees on a day
devoted to remembering the
Holocaust, most attention has
focused on the statement’s
failure to mention Jews. The
administration’s
subsequent
clarification that identifying
the
victims
as
“innocent
people”
was
a
way
to
acknowledge that other groups
also suffered in the Holocaust
only added fuel to the fire.
Trump’s
remembrance
statement spuriously goes on to
claim that “in the darkest hours
of humanity, light shines the
brightest,” ignoring the reality,
depicted in myriad memoirs
and historical accounts, that
the horror of the Holocaust was
its accomplishment in blotting
out light. There were of course
manifold instances of heroism
and
unexpected
humanity
amid
the
destruction,
but
we remember the Holocaust
because it demonstrated the
kind of utter darkness that
humans can bring.
Disturbing as all of this
is, the true dark heart of
this statement is found in its
sickly sweet coda. Trump’s
inaugural speech and active
first week in office have been
shockingly
devoid
of
the
aspirational call-outs to the
American values of equality,
progress and tolerance that
have become part and parcel
of these ritualized transitions
of power. So, it’s almost jarring
to see them emerge suddenly
in the Holocaust remembrance
statement. Yet, here they are in
appropriate Trump fashion —
bizarrely reduced to a comic-
book-level claim — that not only
“throughout (his) Presidency,”
but throughout his life, he will
be on guard “to ensure that the
forces of evil never again defeat
the powers of good.”
Finally, the short statement’s
concluding
assertion
that
“Together,
we
will
make
love and tolerance prevalent
throughout the world” comes
like a punch in the gut. It
is galling and unnerving in
a way that transcends its
insultingly banal saccharinity.
As the Trump administration
ended its first week in office,
American airports became the
scene of chaotic and sudden
exclusions of hundreds, soon
to be thousands, of individuals
for whom there is no rational
basis for exclusion, save clearly
framed religious intolerance.
This was revealed in Trump’s
assurance
that
Christian
refugees would receive priority
consideration for exemption
from the exclusions.
In just one week, the president
of the United States showed
that he could not be relied upon
even to decry the Holocaust.
On
International
Holocaust
Remembrance Day, the Trump
administration demonstrated its
utter inability to invoke credibly
the actual or aspirational values
we associate with our nation. It
refused to acknowledge that the
targeting and extermination of a
specific group was the key to one
of humanity’s darkest chapters,
even while enacting a policy that
specifically sets out to scapegoat
and exclude Muslims.
Today,
family
members
of those with green cards or
visas do not know when or if
they will see their loved ones.
Refugees from horrific violence
and those who risked their lives
to assist the United States who
thought they would at last be
safe are once again confronting
their
utter
vulnerability.
Citizens of Victoria, Texas, are
contemplating the burnt remains
of their community’s mosque
and millions of more privileged
Americans are out protesting,
deprived of sleep and wondering
where we are headed.
With
its
intentional
ignorance of the past and
hypocritical
deployment
of
American
ideals,
President
Trump’s vaunted commitment
to battling “the forces of evil”
and ensuring the prevalence
of “love and tolerance” should
have us all running — to the
library and to the barricades.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Trump should learn from Islam
IBRAHIM IJAZ | COLUMN
S
hortly after the inaugural
address, the Obamas and
the Trumps descended the
steps of the Capitol building in a
beautiful display of
peaceful transitioning.
Chills came over me
as
I
remembered
descending those very
steps in the summer
of 2012 as a part
of
another
display
of peace. I walked
down the steps of the
Capitol building in the
company of my global
religious leader, the
Khalifa of Islam, following his
address to bipartisan leaders
regarding peace and justice.
It strikes me as ironic that I
walked with a prominent leader
after a speech about peace,
unity and justice, while Barack
Obama walked that same path
with a new leader after a speech
evoking disunity and prejudice.
I think our new president,
Donald Trump, should take a
page from Islam’s book to learn
how to establish peace.
The main source of the
disunity
and
prejudice
in
President Trump’s speech was
the overwhelming presence of
religion. “What happened to
the separation of church and
state?” my friends and I asked
in an air of holy confusion. If
you didn’t catch the religious
overtones,
here’s
a
recap.
Half a dozen clergy members
participated in the ceremony,
bookending
President
Trump’s
address.
Two
of
the
musical
performances
were religious groups: the
Mormon
Tabernacle
Choir
and the Washington National
Cathedral Choir of Men, Boys
and Girls. Numerous allusions
to God or a creator were
made in the speech. But most
strikingly, the only time a non-
Judeo-Christian
faith
was
mentioned was when he vowed
to eradicate “radical Islamic
terrorism … from the face of
the Earth.”
The
debate
on
labeling
extremism
committed
by
so-called Muslims as “radical
Islamic terrorism” has, once
again, become contentious in
the days since the inauguration.
One side alleges intrinsic issues
within
Islam
that
have led to the rise
in
extremism.
The
other
side
argues
that terrorism knows
no
religion
and
is
widespread throughout
many
faiths
and
nations. As such, it’s
counterproductive
to
point to the religions
of
all
extremists
throughout
history,
especially when their religions
denounce killing. One popular
meme points to this cognitive
dissonance by saying if rust
is caused by oxygen, and we
breathe oxygen every day,
just imagine what it can do to
your lungs.
The president’s allusion to
Islam is a part of the greater
issue
of
the
Republican
Party’s
obsession
with
de-secularizing America. It’s
one thing to slanderously
mislabel Islam in front of
the nation, further spreading
prejudice about Muslims in
America. But it’s an entirely
larger issue to enjoy the free
mixing of church and state
during
our
nation’s
most
symbolic
event.
Thomas
Jefferson once called this
constitutional separation “a
wall,” (not the kind Donald
Trump would hope for), so
it’s clear more secularization
is required in order to attain
peace.
Islam’s advice for attaining
peace
had
16-year-old
me
awestruck when I attended
the address of the Khalifa of
Islam, Hazrat Mirza Masroor
Ahmad, in 2012. The thesis of
his argument was simply that
Islam says, “Peace and justice
are inseparable — you cannot
have one without the other.”
Due justice and all rights must
be given between interacting
parties to set the stage for
sustainable peace. This is a
lesson President Trump needs
to learn. He should not continue
to unjustly vilify Islam or
exclude
non-Judeo-Christian
faiths from his administration.
If he does so, he is paving
the path for human rights
violations and unjust dealings
for marginalized groups in
America and abroad during his
four years.
He ought to make a decision.
Mr. Trump can follow Thomas
Jefferson and the Khalifa of
Islam’s advice and build a
wall between himself and the
church, or he can continue
down
a
segregated
and
theocratic
path,
on
which
Judeo-Christians walk on the
pure and holy right and all
other faiths occupy a forgotten
left. If he chooses the latter, he
must recall, as I often do, the
words he told the nation on
Nov. 9, 2016: “I pledge to every
citizen of our land that I will be
president for all Americans.”
Being
a
representative
president for all Americans
takes more than mere pledges
of unity. I call on President
Donald Trump to dismantle
his
policies
that
seek
to
institutionalize
prejudice,
namely
the
immigration
ban.
It’s
the
responsibility
of Donald Trump to follow
the Khalifa of Islam’s advice
to
American
politicians
to
establish “absolute justice” in
order to attain peace. Banning
immigrants
and
refugees
without legitimate cause is
clearly unjust.
This
begins
with
active
inclusion, rather than exclusion.
An old saying warns, “If you
don’t have a seat at the table,
you’re probably on the menu.”
However, the first African-
American
Congresswoman
Shirley
Chisholm
offers
us
alternative
advice:
“Bring
a folding chair.” And that’s
exactly what all marginalized
communities should do if
we want to observe tolerant
policies. Stand with me as
a #MuslimAlly by learning
more at TrueIslam.com.
REBECCA LERNER
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
EMMA KINERY
Editor in Chief
ANNA POLUMBO-LEVY
and REBECCA TARNOPOL
Editorial Page Editors
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns
Samantha Goldstein
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Max Lubell
Alexis Megdanoff
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Ashley Tjhung
Stephanie Trierweiler
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Ibrahim Ijaz can be reached at
iijaz@umich.edu.
“Remembrance”
KARLA GOLDMAN | OP-ED
Giving Lake Orion a chance
COREY DULIN | COLUMN
Corey Dulin can be reached at
cydulin@umich.edu.
Karla Goldman is the Sol Drachler
Professor of Social Work and Judaic
Studies. She directs the Jewish
Communal Leadership Program in the
School of Social Work.
JOE IOVINO | CONTACT JOE AT JIOVINO@UMICH.EDU
IBRAHIM
IJAZ
COREY
DULIN
The horror of the
Holocaust was its
accomplishment
in blotting out
light