Gavel Drop is a roundup of the good, bad, and absurd in the courts.
Advocates and activists are cautiously optimistic that such practices will no longer be a matter of routine.
When I hear Republicans’ anti-immigration and anti-Muslim proposals, I hear, “don’t let the brown people near us.” And when I see supporters of conservative presidential hopefuls violently assault or threaten Black Lives Matter activists and others, like they did on Monday night at a Trump rally in Las Vegas, my determination to fight back against such rhetoric becomes stronger.
When pressed for details about who of the nearly 90,000 Muslims who immigrate to the United States each year would be banned, Trump’s campaign manager told the Associated Press the ban would apply to “everybody.”
Each time an attack occurs, public figures seem willing to conflate terrorists and Muslims as interchangeable subjects. It draws divides of “us” versus “them” more blatantly. It reiterates that our people’s lives are worth less than non-Muslims.
The vilification of Muslim children is not new, and it is far from limited to fictional instances. These media portrayals can translate into real-life repercussions in the lives of Muslim youth.
Thousands of Muslim women who live in the United States wear the hijab and face discrimination because of it—yet non-Muslim women are praised and heralded for donning it for a single day or month.
There’s no doubt the Chapel Hill victims were admirable individuals. But the response to their tragic deaths reflects a narrative that Muslims in the West like myself have been taught from a young age: We must become role models in our community to have value as humans.
Sabo, a Los Angeles-based street artist and right-wing folk hero, had a thing or two to say about Islam, immigration, Ted Cruz, and art at the nation’s largest conservative gathering.
In the wake of domestic abuse reports from the NFL, social media outlets were flooded with Islamophobic stereotypes about misogyny and violence.