Farah Habad – This Mosque Is a Burning House [Video]

In the creation of this new land,

a land where the people sought to make a more perfect union–

a union perfected through genocide of indigenous people–

grew weary of establishing justice through the tranquil ceremony

of burning hysteric women at the stake.

And soon the insatiable beast of white supremacy

felt a familiar growl in its belly, and heard the call

“Hayya alal Falah,” hasten to salvation.

And the beast swam across the Atlantic and feasted on Black bodies.

And some, the beast brought back.

It stacked the cargo shoulder-to-shoulder, the rows straight and tight,

no space between them lest that space be filled by the Devil.

This is the story of the first Muslims in America.

When the slave ships first arrived on the shores of Virginia in 1619,

so too did Islam.

Long before H-2B visas, refugee status, or the Silicon Valley,

the message of Islam reached the shores of the United States, in bondage.

Long before Uighur Muslims in China were force-fed during Ramadan,

enslaved Africans were stripped of their faith alongside their humanity.

And still, today, we fight for the sense of personhood.

We take up space, even when, and especially when we are denied it.

You know, like on mosque boards, or Friday pulpits.

See, at times, this house of worship feels like an integrated afterthought,

like a burning house,

like a non-communal community.

Here, on the intersection of Black and Muslim,

I find rock and hard place.

Rock–how we show up and show out

against the persecution of Palestine and Kashmir

and oppressed Muslim folks across the globe.

Hard place–how the board members called the boys in blue

on Black boys playing in the parking lot while their parents offer night prayers.

How white supremacy can greet you with salaams,

can offer you dates and water when it’s time to break your fast.

You know, it’s funny,

when Malcolm X traveled to Arabia

he wrote a letter back to his folks in Harlem.

It began, “Never have I witnessed such sincere hospitality

and overwhelming spirit of true brotherhood.”

And I wonder if he’d feel the same way today.

(cheers and applause)