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Institute for Social Policy and Understanding

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ISPU's annual poll returns for a third year to measure the attitudes and policy preferences that impact the lives of American Muslims across faith communities, including results from Catholics, Protestants, Jews, white Evangelicals, and the non-affiliated.

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Life in Somalia before the civil war was beautiful. When the war happened, I was 8 years old and at that stage of understanding the world in a different way. We fled to Kenya and ended up living in a refugee camp for four years. We arrived in the U.S. when I was 12.

My family called me the "why kid" growing up. I always needed to know why something is happening, why I had to do something, why whatever. I still am that way. I constantly question myself, I question those around me, I question policy and reasoning behind everything.

I talk a lot about the men in my family because my mother died when I was little and my grandmother died when my aunts were little, so we didn't have those kinds of heads of household. But all the members of our household who were female were sort of living as equal, and as wise as the male figures in our family. We didn't really grow up in a gendered environment. We didn't have a hierarchy. My family is fearless. They truly believe that they have something to contribute to society and that it is an obligation as humans. I try to embed in my children that they have something to contribute. And that you give because you have to, not to be appreciated.

When we were going through the relocation process they do an orientation of what your new home country is going to look like. The America we were going to was very glossy and picturesque-the only things that existed were white picket fences and beautifully mowed lawns and everybody seemed to have everything that they need. When we arrived, our first experience was driving through Manhattan. There was graffiti everywhere. Trash everywhere. Panhandlers and people who were homeless sleeping on the streets. I remember looking to my dad for answers. I said, "This doesn't look like the America you promised." He said, "Well we haven't gotten to our America yet, you just need to be patient."

Somalia is a majority black Muslim country and so is the camp in Kenya. When you're growing up in an environment where your faith and your race are not topics of conversation, it's really hard to come to an environment where all of that means something. Being black in the U.S. means something. There's a history. Being an immigrant, a refugee, Muslim-all of those things represent an otherness that is not typical or easily confined into the social fabric of this country. As someone who grew up never really having to feel less than, it's a hard reality to wake up to when you're 12. I had to figure out what it meant to be a bridge builder--what it meant to forge relationships that really never existed becomes the backstory to how I ended up where I am.

People think of Minneapolis as a very liberal, progressive city. We have a lot of immigrants here. The incumbent I was running against was a trailblazer when it comes to women in politics, so you would think that my gender wouldn't be a big issue. But everybody wanted to make that an issue. To her, people were excited to vote for me because I was pretty. To the Muslim and Somali communities, my gender was a problem because politics is supposed to be a man's role. Then there was the typical stuff that women candidates deal with-as a mother, how irresponsible I must be to want to run and devote as much time out of the home. No one ever asks the male candidates who are also fathers how they expect to balance family life. Gender was a big thing.

People said I should be proud of myself if I got even 10% of the votes, but I'm pretty competitive. I wanted to keep going so I could prove them wrong. I ended up pushing all of the negative things aside because I kept thinking, regardless of whether we win or lose, this will shift the narrative about what is possible.
Omar was elected on Nov. 8, 2016, to represent Minneapolis' District 60B in the Minnesota house of representatives. As of November 2018, Ilhan Omar is also the FIRST Somali American elected to the U.S. Congress.

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Ilhan Omar: The First Somali-American Muslim Person to Become a Legislator

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Life in Somalia before the civil war was beautiful. When the war happened, I was 8 years old and at that stage of understanding the world in a different way. We fled to Kenya and ended up living in a refugee camp for four years. We arrived in the U.S.

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Growing up in America, I struggled to connect with my mom, Mulki.

We were divided by a language barrier and cultural differences. She only listens to Somali music - which I can't stand - while she struggles to understand my love for alternative music and rap.

But these differences started dissolving when Ilhan Omar, the first Somali American congresswoman, was elected in 2018.

When I read that Ilhan Omar had been elected to the House of Representatives, tears welled up in my eyes.

It took my mom two weeks to get used to the fact that someone like her was elected to Congress.

"She gives us a lot of hope," my mom said. "She shows that we can be anything we want to be."

My mom was born and raised in Somalia, whereas I was born in the United States. We saw different parts of our identities reflected in Representative Omar.

I saw a woman raising her voice to bring change to the United States, and I knew that I could do that, too.

Before Rep. Omar was elected, my mom believed that education was for other people, not for her.

Seeing Rep. Omar succeed changed her mindset. She's now pursuing a degree in early childhood education.

"Older people have this mindset," my mom said. "They think woman can do nothing. I believe we can do a lot of things, and we can change [the] Somali government and how they rule. I think women can do more."

I used to feel sad listening to my mom's refugee stories. But now, I'm glad to have a better understanding of who she is. Marian Mohamed

Slowly, my mom and I started talking about politics. I would walk into the kitchen while my mom cooked and bring up issues. We discovered that we share the same views on women's rights and climate change.

Our conversation gradually got more personal. My mom shared more of her experience from the refugee camp, Kakumo. It turned out to be the same refugee camp that Rep. Omar lived in before migrating to the United States.

"I remember it was so horrible when the war happened," my mom told me. "We didn't have nothing to eat."

"My oldest brother - he was so smart - and he started to look for some food. He couldn't find nothing. He said, What if I mix water with salt? I don't know how he came up with that idea. Come sisters, drink. This will make you full until mom comes home."

I used to feel sad listening to my mom's refugee stories. But now, I'm glad to have a better understanding of who she is.

It's surprising that politics was the thing that brought my mom and me closer. We're able to be more of ourselves, showcasing both our American and Somali sides.

As for her music, I still cringe ...

This story was created in KUOW's RadioActive Intro to Journalism Workshop for 15- to 18-year-olds, with production support from Kyle Norris. Edited by Liz Jones.

Find RadioActive on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, and on the RadioActive podcast.

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The barrier between us is breaking: How politics brought my mom and me closer

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Growing up in America, I struggled to connect with my mom, Mulki. We were divided by a language barrier and cultural differences. She only listens to Somali music - which I can't stand - while she struggles to understand my love for alternative music and rap.

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SEATTLE - A woman who came to the United States as a young refugee in the 1990s now leads the Seattle clinic where she was cared for as a patient.

Dr. Anisa Ibrahim was recently promoted to medical director of Harborview Medical Center's Pediatrics Clinic. She said the promotion brings her story full circle.

"It's one that I'm honored and grateful for, but it's also one that I've worked really hard, to be in a clinic that I am passionate for" said Dr. Ibrahim.

Dr. Ibrahim was brought to the U.S. in 1993 from Somalia when she was six years old. She said her family fled unrest from the Somali Civil War that began in 1992.

"We got to Kenya in 1992, and by 1993 we were resettled to Seattle," said Dr. Ibrahim. "That is a very short amount of time. The average amount of time a person spends in a refugee camp right now is 17 years."

She said she remembers a tuberculosis outbreak at her refugee camp, and her sibling getting the measles. When she arrived in Seattle, she and her sibling were treated at Harborview Medical Center's Pediatrics Clinic.

It was those experiences that made her want to become a doctor.

"I can say I know life is tough in a refugee camp," she said. "I know life is tough settling into a new country and not speaking English and not knowing where the grocery store is and being isolated from the rest of your family."

Dr. Ibrahim attended the University of Washington's School of Medicine and graduated in 2013. From there, she continued to do internships and her residency at the UW Department of Pediatrics.

Now, in her new position at Harborview Medical Center's Pediatrics Clinic, she gets to care for and do outreach for immigrant and refugee populations, with a focus on those from East Africa.

"It's amazing seeing children who I saw at three days of life now telling me about their first day of kindergarten," said Dr. Ibrahim.

Dr. Ibrahim emphasized that representation is extremely important. She said one thing she wished she had when she was younger, as a Somali refugee wearing a hijab, was someone who resembled herself.

"There are probably millions of little girls in refugee camps right now that are not being offered the opportunity to get an education that could probably be the next neurosurgeon," said Dr. Ibrahim. "It's the support that we're not giving them that makes them different from me, and it's not anything inherent to one particular person."

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Somali refugee named director of Seattle clinic that cared for her as a child

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SEATTLE - A woman who came to the United States as a young refugee in the 1990s now leads the Seattle clinic where she was cared for as a patient. Dr. Anisa Ibrahim was recently promoted to medical director of Harborview Medical Center's Pediatrics Clinic. She said the promotion brings her story full circle.

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The role of Black Muslims in the American civil rights movement

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With the United States consumed by riots after the death of George Floyd, an African-American man who was suffocated by a white police officer in Minneapolis, Black rights activism is once again in focus.

Young men and women have taken to the streets across the US in lively protests, clashing with police, bracing pepper spray, rubber bullets and baton-beatings.

There is also a rich history of Black Muslim Americans who have been at the forefront of the fight against the injustice meted out to non-white citizens in the world's largest economy.

"We have a long history dealing with violence by extremist groups like the Ku Klux Klan," says Imam Mahdi Bray, the National Director of the American Muslim Alliance and a lifelong civil rights activists.

"When a lot of people think of terrorism, they think of 9/11. But for me terrorism was on that day in 1956 when my grandfather's home was firebombed by the Klan."

Imam Mahdi Bray says terrorism for him was when his home was firebombed by the Ku Klux Klan in the 1950s. (AP Archive)

Bray's family lived in northern Virginia where his grandfather, Wright Gray Junior, campaigned to register Black voters and worked closely with the celebrated activist and icon, Dr Martin Luther King Jr.

Many years have passed since then, and, in that time, America has seen a Black president come to power, as well as senators, lawyers and mayors.

It is apparent, however, that discrimination of people of colour has not changed, says Bray, a key anti-war organiser after the US-led invasion of Iraq.

"What's happening in the US is what has happened for many years. We are suffering from systemic racism and violence. What happened to George Floyd has happened to many African American Black men who have basically experienced death and lethal violence by law enforcement," he told TRT World in an interview.

Over the years, many prominent Black Muslims have emerged in the civil rights movement. People like Malcolm X and Muhammad Ali are household names.

Mentioning everyone in one article is an impossible task. Some of them have controversial histories or it remains hard to confirm whether they embraced Islam - but their lives have proved a source of inspiration for Muslims.

In the current circumstances Black Muslims have a particularly difficult task.
Keith Ellison
Ellison, 56, is the top public prosecutor in Minnesota, the state where Floyd was killed. As the Attorney General, he will be leading the investigation against the police officers and has vowed to " hold everyone accountable."

A criminal defence lawyer by profession, he converted to Islam as a 19-year-old college student when he was actively involved in highlighting police brutality against Black people.

Keith Ellison knows all too well how police interact with minorities in the US. (AP Archive)

Ellison has had firsthand experience of police brutality, something which propelled him to take an active role in the civil rights movement.

"When he was 4, he hid under his bed when National Guard troop carriers drove through his neighborhood in 1968, amid the riots that following the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., and came of age during the era of Coleman Young, the city's first Black mayor," Mother Jones reported.

In 1989, he formed a group called the Coalition for Police Accountability, which published a newsletter that detailed police brutality.

He was the first Muslim ever to be elected to congress in 2006, taking his oath on the Quran - a move that angered several white politicians.
Marcus Garvey
Bray, a former Baptist Christian, converted to Islam in the mid-1960s.

"Some would say reverted back to Islam, but, yeah, I'm basically a convert," he says laughing.

That was a time when Black Americans had started to take interest in the political transitions taking place in the Middle East and Africa such as in countries like Algeria, which gained independence from French colonial rule in 1962.

"Culturally, young Black men like myself were going through what we called the Black identity movement and so we looked towards Africa and we saw Islam is the religion coming from there," he explains.

Pan-Africanism was in the wind, and the uprising against Apartheid in South Africa became a rallying cry for African-Americans.

"The struggle for dignity in places like South Africa were deeply connected to the experience of African-Americans who were experiencing their own aparthied system."

But decades before newly-converted Muslims took to being inspired by Africa, there was Marcus Garvey, the founder of the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), who started the "back to Africa campaign."

Born in Jamaica, he moved to the US at the age of 28 in 1917. This coincided with race riots in East St Louis, events which created an environment of racial fear among Black people.

Even though there's a lack of clarity over his religious beliefs, Marcus Garvey left a lasting impact on Black Muslims in the US and elsewhere. (AP Archive)

"With the help of such disciples as my father, Garvey, from his headquarters in New York City's Harlem, was raising the banner of Black-race purity and exhorting the Negro masses to return to their ancestral African homeland - a cause which had made Garvey the most controversial man on earth," writes Malcolm X on the first page of the first chapter of his autobiography.

A strong proponent of Black nationalism and the self-reliance of Black people, Garvey faced persecution at the hands of the FBI in an alleged mail-fraud case related to the promotion of the Black Steamship Line (BSL).

Garvey's "Black religion" teachings resonated with many Muslims and influenced the leaders of the Nation of Islam.

Although he was officially a Catholic, his reluctance to publicly disclose his faith remains a mystery, writes Professor Samory Rashid of the Indiana State University, in his book, 'Black Muslims in the US'.

"Nevertheless, the UNIA motto of 'One God, one aim, one destiny' would have a special appeal to Muslims who may have populated its ranks in the thousands," writes Rashid.

He was expelled from the US in 1927 and he died in the UK in 1940. His remains were moved to Jamaica where he became the nation's first national hero.

Garvey's philosophy, which was centered on the return of the Blacks to their original homeland, helped lead to the creation of the Rastafari religion.

Rastafarians believe that Haile Selassie I, the Ethiopian emperor who ruled between the years 1930 and 1974, is a God and that he will facilitate the return of the Black community to Africa.

Among Garvey's followers was a man named Elijah Muhammad.
The Nation of Islam (NOI)
No brief history of Black Muslims in the US would be complete without the mention of the NOI.

It was founded by Wallace Fard Muhammad in 1930, but its lightning rod was Elijah Muhammad - the controversial Muslim leader whose teachings deviated from mainstream Islam.

Born in 1897 in Georgia as Elijah Poole, he witnessed as a young boy the lynching of Albert Hamilton, an African-American - this had a profound impact on him.

The charismatic leader of the Nation of Islam Elijah Muhammad inspired countless African-Americans including Malcolm X. (AP Archive)

Elijah Muhammad took over the NOI's leadership from the group's founder Fard.

"Nation of Islam didn't adopt orthodox Islam or as some people would say Sunni Islam," says Mahdi Bray. "People like Muhammad Ali helped build that bridge, later rejecting some of the religious tenets provided by Elijah Muhammad."

But the group supported Black nationalism and had a wide appeal.

"As one sheikh from Saudi Arabia used to say that maybe they are not praying correctly, but they are praying in the right direction," says Bray.

The NOI's most famous spokesperson was Malcolm X.
Malcolm X
Malcolm Little was born in 1925 with a skin colour deemed lighter than that of his siblings. This was something that made his father prefer him over his other children because "he was subconsciously so afflicted with the white man's brainwashing of Negroes that he inclined to favour the light ones."

The discrimination that he faced as a child shaped his views in later life when, unlike King, he was determindely against effecting any reconciliation with the white people - at least for a large part of his life.

In school, he excelled but was told by a teacher that he should consider a "realistic" career as a carpenter rather than dreaming of becoming a lawyer.

Malcolm replaced Little in his name with the variable X in defiance of white dominance. As a young man, he spent a few years in prison, a time during which he converted to Islam and upon his release became an active member of the NOI.

He's known to have provided much of the intellectual firepower to the Black Power movement.

After developing differences with Elijah Muhammad, he left the NOI in 1964 and travelled to Saudi Arabia to perform Hajj. He changed his name to el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz.

Malcolm X was shot dead in 1965 by some NOI members.

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The role of Black Muslims in the American civil rights movement

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With the United States consumed by riots after the death of George Floyd, an African-American man who was suffocated by a white police officer in Minneapolis, Black rights activism is once again in focus. Young men and women have taken to the streets across the US in lively protests, clashing with police, bracing pepper spray, rubber bullets and baton-beatings.