Enough is damn enough, already! The threat of Islamic terrorism is cowing nearly everyone, including the editors of the Berkeley student newspaper The Daily Californian.
About two weeks ago, the paper published a really nice op-ed by an ex-Muslim from Pakistan, recounting how she (the author was obviously a woman) left Islam. At the time, the author’s name was appended to the piece. I’ve put that original letter at the bottom of this post, but have left out the author’s name. I’ve done that because the paper or author, apparently under threat, retracted the letter.
Here’s the paper’s retraction:
As the Daily Caller reports,
The precise nature of these safety concerns, and whether they arose in reaction to direct threats levied against the author, is not clear. The Daily Caller News Foundations reached out to both the author and Veklerov for further details, but only Veklerov replied and she declined to comment.
If the paper was threatened, it would seem incumbent on Veklerov to report it, but we know how scared editors are. I would think it seriously incumbent on the paper to write an editorial decrying these threats to free speech, especially since the original letter, which you’ll see below, was neither “strident” nor “shrill.” It was simply a personal tale of leaving faith behind. But of course we know that to many Muslims, apostasy = death.
But regardless of whether the retraction was requested by the author, or mandated by the paper, it shows how the thuggery of radical Islam is silencing free speech: in this case, a perfectly reasonable personal story about abandoning an oppressive faith. Clearly there were threats.
Finally, here’s the original letter, which was published (sans authorial name) on reddit:
If someone had told me six years ago that I would leave Islam and end up an atheist, I would never have believed him.
I was born and raised as a Muslim. I grew up in a Muslim country — Pakistan — surrounded by other Muslims who were convinced that their religion was the one true religion. My family, in particular, followed moderate Sunni Islam, which is a more liberal approach based on the “Sunnah,” or Prophet’s teachings. That was the path I set out on. But now, as a Muslim apostate and atheist, my journey couldn’t have led me any further from what I once knew to be true.
Until I was 14, I simply accepted everything I’d been told about Islam. I was taught that being born into a Muslim family is a blessing and is the greatest gift that Allah can bestow upon someone. I initially thought the Sunni path I followed was the one true path, just like my Shia, Bori and Ismaili friends adhered to the teachings of the sects their families followed. I noticed how everyone around me claimed to have a monopoly on the truth, which made me question who was actually right. I started to view Islam — and religion in general — as something dogmatic, irrational, unscientific and, most of all, completely sexist.
A feminist since age 10, it’s always been hard for me to reconcile my feminism with my faith. Even though the Pakistani society in which I grew up was sexist, my family has always been very progressive. As a result, I never accepted the male superiority and traditional gender roles that were part of my society. For most of my teen years, I felt torn apart by my contradictory beliefs. On one hand, I was a radical feminist who supported gay rights. But on the other hand, I was a practicing Muslim whose religion was clearly homophobic and placed men above women.
At that point, I still believed in an all-knowing God, and I felt that if I learned more about Islam, I would be able to understand why it stated the things it did. I read the Quran with translation and countless books on Islamic jurisprudence. I started taking classes at Zaynab Academy and Al-Huda, two traditional Islamic organizations. The Islam they preached was not the liberal, fluid Islam of my parents: Instead, it followed the Quran very rigidly. While the moderate Muslims I knew never encouraged hijab or gender segregation, these institutions differed in their views. I started to follow a more ritualistic Islam, going as far as giving up listening to music and wearing the hijab.
Stifled by orthodox Islam, I decided to turn to a more liberal approach. I embraced Sufism, which is the mystical side of Islam, and began to see God as an entity of love. Feminist scholars, such as Amina Wadud and Leila Ahmed, gave me a glimmer of hope that Islam and feminism could be compatible, although I later found their arguments very selective. On the other extreme, I read writers such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali, another ex-Muslim atheist, whose harsh criticism of Islam was not always justified.
After trying to understand Islam through a plurality of perspectives — orthodox, feminist, Sufi and liberal approaches — I decided to leave Islam, but by that point, I had realized that I didn’t need to look at things as black and white. I could leave Islam without dismissing it or labeling it as wrong.
Going through all of these versions of Islam has enabled me to gain a more comprehensive understanding of the religion. Islam is no monolith, and with more than 1.5 billion followers, it’s impossible to refer to Islam as a single entity. There are Muslim women who cover every inch of their bodies except for their eyes, and there are also Muslim women who wear short skirts. With so much variation amongst Muslims, it’s hard to determine who really gets to speak for Islam.
Despite being one of the fastest-growing religions in the world, Islam is still extremely misrepresented and shrouded with stereotypes. I want to address these stereotypes and portray Islam in all its diversity. I’ve experienced the religion firsthand and have also viewed it as an objective bystander. I probably spend more time thinking about God than most religious people; despite my skepticism, I’ve always yearned for a spiritual connection. I want to share what I’ve learned about Islam over the years. I plan to defend it and give credit where it’s due — Islam, after all, gave women the right to work and own property back in the seventh century — and I also plan to ruthlessly point out areas that need reform (yes, Islam does allow men to have four wives and sex slaves).
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Islam, it’s that my former religion, just like any other ideology, has its flaws. Religion should not be immune to criticism. It’s important to have an honest dialogue about religion and identify what can be improved — and that’s exactly what I plan to do.
Seriously, what about that letter should doom its author? It’s time to put a stop to the kind of bullying barbarism that can censor a letter this mild—a letter that even says some good things about Islam, and suggests simply that it be improved. It even suggests that Islam and feminism can be harmonized, though I find that a real stretch.
If someone wrote the same letter about Catholicism, Orthodox Judaism, or any patriarchal faith, there would have been no problem. The problem is Islam. And this is why Ayaan Hirsi Ali has bodyguards.
