Drum Magazine Issue 4 | Page 83

Drum: FAITH 81 W hen I asked a friend of mine what made him revert to Islam at the age of 28 he told me it was ‘the blackness of Islam’. Growing up as a British ‘Bombay mix’ (my father is a Gujarati Indian and my mother a Punjabi Pakistani), the relationship between my ethnicities and my faith was a consistent feature of my adolescence. This said, I have never thought of Islam as a colour. To me it has remained the source of spiritual guidance and faith. In retrospect, its description as a ‘black’ faith makes sense to me on so many levels. Asked to make a contribution to DRUM on the topic of Islamophobia my first hurdle was to try and grasp what I understood by the term itself. I came to the realisation that Islamophobia is far more embedded within British institutions than it first appears. It is also far less aggressive than current literature would have it. Muslims have not experienced nearly the same level of physical and verbal assaults that were common for black people (of all races) in the 70s and 80s. In contrast, today the personal security of Muslims remains, for the most part, intact. Rather, it is in the constructed ignorance (a term coined by Madeleine Bunting of the Guardian) with which Islam is understood that Islamophobia is most insidious. Islam has been constructed as bad, and there remains a great deal of reluctance for this ignorance to be dispelled. Originating from the Arab region of the world, the Islamic faith has retained its connection to the ethnicity of its followers and its proponents. Rather than lightening the skins of its prophets, Islam » Islamophobia between faith, politics and human rights.