The tea was deliciously laced with all different kinds of exotic spices and I instantly felt warmth and comfort as I took my first sip. “Bahut shukriya, apiya” I uttered, which I faintly recall meaning “Thank you, sister” in Urdu. My time living next door to a family owned Middle Eastern grocery store had taught me a few phrases, which I loved to express when the rare occasion arose. I simply adored the way the language sounded coming out of my mouth, I thought it was beautiful and was quite content to sit with my good friend Rabab and her four year old son, Zahid, and listen to the pair converse in what was a unique mix of Urdu, Pashto and English. She smiled and sat down next to me on the elegant Persian lounge, cup of Pakistani ‘Chai’ in hand. “You’re welcome, Jasmine”, she replied. After fixing the few loose strands of beautiful, black hair that sneaked out from under her perfectly placed, hot pink hijab, she stared at me with her deep, green eyes and asked “Now tell me, why on earth would you want to interview someone like me?”.
It was a fair question and one I was not sure completely how to answer without sounding too obsequious. I had first met Rabab Yazdani two years ago at an Amnesty International seminar, where she sat next to me with her two-year-old son while we solemnly listened to the haunting stories from refugees about how they survived the most horrific ordeals of torture and trauma. There was one Afghani man in particular who managed to provoke an overwhelming flood of emotion in my heart and caused me to reach for a tissue more than once. He recollected how at the tender age of eleven, he witnessed his father and uncle being marched onto the street in front of his home while his mother was held captive inside. He quietly revealed that the desperate pleas from his father followed by two, deafening gunshots and the screams of his mother being viciously brutalised are all he can hear when he closes his eyes at night. I glanced over to the woman beside me, whose eyes were just as damp as mine, and shared my disbelief at such a heart-wrenching tale. She pulled her son onto her lap, moved closer to me and whispered “Yes, my husband has been through a lot”.
Originally from Peshawar, one of the most culturally diverse cities in Pakistan, Rabab migrated to Australia with her family when she was a teenager and eventually obtained a bachelor of international relations from the University of Western Sydney. After moving to Brisbane four years ago with her husband, she was compelled to closely engage with local Islamic community groups, as she felt there was a certain lack of diversity in this city compared to her old suburb of Bankstown.
“Something as simple as grocery shopping can make me feel unwelcome. I’m often stared at, usually either in fear or pity. Some people just can’t deal with the fact that I wear a hijab. The government want us to ‘integrate’ into Australian society but then we are persecuted for our cultural differences. If we want to speak our own language and decide to move to a community that has a mosque and a halal butcher, then they complain on the news about the rise of ‘ethnic enclaves’”.
Rabab expressed that despite the negative connotations these ‘ethnic enclaves’ may pervade on the Australian media, she revealed that she found solace in the fact that there was a Muslim community and heritage that was strong in Brisbane. Rabab and I went along together to a festival which celebrated the success of Muslim people in this country and invited the wider community to attend so that people may better understand the Islamic faith.
My time with Rabab inspired me to begin to think about some of the more complex issues that are intrinsically interlaced within the depths of my topic. I had originally sat down and asked her to tell me about what it is like to be a Muslim living in Australia. While she did articulate what this experience was like for her, there were some underlying features of this which exuded a much more malevolent feel. While she was expressing her story to me, it was inadvertently revealed that Rabab was experiencing certain anti-Islamic sentiments from the community here in Brisbane. You could say that she was the inspiration for me to explore this topic in much more detail.
I wanted to discover whether or not in this country there exists a certain anti-Islamic sentiment and how might this affect the lives of Muslims living in Australia today.
Spruyt and Elchardus (2012) have suggested after a social experiment, that ‘anti-Muslim feelings, sometimes equated with Islamophobia, are much more widespread than anti-foreigner feelings, sometimes described as xenophobia’. That is, people who visibly identify with the Islamic faith are more likely to be racially prejudiced against rather than non-Muslim foreigners. A survey conducted by the University of Western Sydney ‘revealed that almost half of the Australian population hold anti-Muslim sentiments’ (Dunn, 2008).
With this information being etched into my consciousness, I decided to investigate this issue on a local level. So as to gain a comprehensive understanding of the topic from an academic perspective, I pursued two lecturers from this university to enlighten me about the issue.
Head lecturer of Religion and Spirituality studies here at the University of Queensland Sylvie Shaw was able to shed light on the issue of Islamophobia in Australia.
Director of Indonesian language and culture studies Annie Pohlman provides an insight into the experiences that may be felt by Indonesian Muslims who come to study here at UQ.
Obviously in order to comprehend the issue in a much more balanced and accurate manner, it was desirable to converse with people who are of the Islamic faith about these issues so that we may gain a richer understanding of what it is truly like to be a Muslim in Australia.
Sameer Moqim was born in Afghanistan’s capital city Kabul. He and his family are from the Hazara minority ethnic group. In the history of Afghanistan, Hazara people have forever been marginalised and despised by the wider majorities. Their people are constantly faced with being targets for ethnic violence – Hazaras constituted nearly 67% of the total population of the state before the 19th century, whereas today they make up only 9% of the total Afghan population (Eastwood, 2011). The rise of the Taliban bought more and more human right abuses to the Hazara people. In fear for his family’s safety, Sameer crossed the border to Pakistan. Still, the vilification of his people ensued, so his utter desperation compelled him to try and come to Australia.
This is his story about that transition and what his experience is like now being a Muslim in this country.
Migrating from Pakistan to complete her masters and PHD here at the University of Queensland, Humaira Shafi’s journey to Australia is markedly different in contrast to Sameer’s story. Humaira reveals what her experience has been like as a Muslim tutor here at UQ and as an academic in society. She describes hereself as a passionate Muslim feminist and she proudly wears the Hijab, which she believes is perceived as a sign not only of terrorism but also of oppression - these are derogatory labels which Humaira vehemently wishes to eradicate.
So that we might be able to gauge
the public perceptions of Islam, a small survey was administered to a group of
thirty-five random people in Brisbane, all of different nationalities,
religions and ages. There were fifteen questions included in the survey,
however only the most important components will be displayed on this slideshow.
It was also assessed what were
people’s first thoughts when they heard the words ‘Muslim or Islam’ and ‘Halal
Certified’. These results were displayed in a wordcloud and it revealed that
most people associate Halal with being ‘safe, blessed and religious’, although
‘terrorism bad, profit and tax’ also stood out. While it was positive to see
that most thought of either ‘religion’ or ‘nothing’ when they hear about Islam,
the word ‘terrorist’ came right behind it.
While the results from the survey
conclude that most people are welcoming and understanding of Islam in
Australia, there still exists some large misconceptions and prejudice against
Muslim people. There were some Islamaphobic attitudes that transpired from the
results of this survey and may be a definite cause of concern.
Final Thoughts
My time learning from and
conversing with all these different people from all walks of life has been a
most enlightening experience. There are so many captivating stories and diverse
perceptions about what it is like to be a Muslim in Australia. Each person’s experience
is valuable and unique and I have come to learn that there is no one way to
describe this experience. Each Muslim is different in his or her own ways and
yet that is what makes their stories so compelling. It is concluded that the
nature of Islamaphobia is malicious and ignorant and it cannot be denied that these
attitudes exist within the minds of some and it is these people who continue to
plant the seed of hatred and fear into the consciousness of this nation.
Islamaphobia is a very damaging mentality and is a significant issue in our
society that needs to be addressed if we are to live peacefully with people of
all races and religions and truly be a multicultural nation.
References:
Spruyt and Elchardus (2012). ‘Are anti-Muslim feelings more widespread than anti-foreigner feelings? Evidence from two split-sample experiment’. Ethnicities. Vol. 12, No. 6. Pp 800-812.
References:
Eastwood, S (2011). ‘Hazaras in Afghanistan’
http://www.minorityrights.org/5440/afghanistan/hazaras.html
http://www.minorityrights.org/5440/afghanistan/hazaras.html
Dunn (2008)
‘Contemporary racism and Islamaphobia in Australia: racializing religion’.
Ethnicities. Vol 7, No. 4. Pp 564–589.
Ethnicities. Vol 7, No. 4. Pp 564–589.
Spruyt and Elchardus (2012). ‘Are anti-Muslim feelings more widespread than anti-foreigner feelings? Evidence from two split-sample experiment’. Ethnicities. Vol. 12, No. 6. Pp 800-812.
