by Selam Tesfai

In the United States, the 1950s and 1960s would be crucial in laying the foundations for all future political movements across the country. 

In those years, the Black liberation movement was increasingly stratified and dynamic. Indeed, there were numerous souls within it theorizing how to achieve Black emancipation in every sphere of social life, not only in the United States, but all over the globe, wherever colonized territories were struggling for independence. For example, studying the Civil Rights Movement[1], one will come across extremely divergent organizations: from nationalist to integrationist, from revolutionary to pacifist movements for non-violence; among them, many were headed by religious preachers: Baptists, Catholics, Pentecostals, Muslims, true political leaders on par with Black nationalists. What united such different worlds was a shared struggle against a common enemy: the white man, that is, the one true master of the United States of America.

Despite this, the political leaders of the Civil Rights Movement are still recounted in a superficial and stereotypical manner, showing how little space is given to analyses that fully capture the complexities of the characters who animated this important phase of the reorganization of American society. In such a vibrant and complex landscape, it’s not easy to understand the historical evolution of some of the main political and philosophical currents within the Civil Rights Movement. This makes it necessary to ask: who were the Africans who were forced to inhabit the United States through the establishment of the slave system and the Atlantic route? 

We know very little about their stories. Upon reaching the American continent, African people forced into slavery were separated from family members and people of the same clan, preventing them from communicating with one another. This, in actual fact, disrupted the transmission of language and cultural and religious traditions.

According to Mary-Jane Deeb, head of the Department of African and Middle Eastern Studies at the U.S. Library of Congress, approximately 20 percent of the Africans kidnapped and enslaved in the Americas were Muslims. Prominent among these people is Omar Ibn Said [2], who was born in 1770 in Futa Toro, in present-day Senegal. He was kidnapped in the early 1800s and forced to cross the Atlantic to the port of Charleston, South Carolina, where he was sold into slavery.

Of the more than 12 million people deported from Africa during the slave trade, about 400,000 were sent to North American ports, and about 40 percent of these sailed to Charleston. Omar Ibn Said was among the last ones. His memoirs remain to date the oldest known autobiographical account of an African slave in the United States of America. His autobiography belonged to private collections until 2017, when it was finally acquired by the Library of Congress and made accessible to the community through digitization. 

«Before I came to the Christian country, my religion was the religion of Mohammed. Then there came to our place a large army, who killed many men, and took me, and brought me to the great sea» (Omar Ibn Said, 1831).

Omar Ibn Said's wise choice to write his memoirs in Arabic allows us today to access a narrative true to the intentions of the hands that wrote it, unfiltered by the white-owned publishing machine.

The formal abolition of slavery would not end the horrors experienced by African-American people, which is why the early 19th century would be marked by the abandonment of the Deep South by thousands of former slaves. They fled the poverty and persecution of Jim Crow laws, settling in the great industrial cities of the North, from Chicago to New York, Philadelphia and Detroit, giving rise to what historians call the Great Migration.

It was only during the early 1900s that the first real communities of African American Muslims would form.

In 1922, in Chicago - the beating heart of the American Midwest - historians uncovered the first known photograph of a group of Black Muslim women. This image was published in The Moslem Sunrise, a newspaper of the Ahmadiyya Movement, where the names of recent converts were listed. Among them was Florence Watts[3], one of the first African American Muslim women whose story is known.

Florence, the daughter of former slaves, was born and raised in the U.S. South, which she left with her husband to seek better living conditions. Upon moving to Chicago's Southwest, she found work as a cook and caregiver. However, the job prevented her from living with her daughter, whom she was forced to foster at a boarding school for girls throughout childhood and adolescence. A few hundred yards from her workplace, she met proselytes of the Ahmadiyya Movement who encouraged her discovery of Islam.  For many African Americans like Florence, Islam was seen as a chance to rebuild an ancestral spiritual connection to their origins; in fact, since the 1800s the Islamic religion had been associated with resistance to European colonialism and imperialism on the African continent, thus bringing it closer to Black nationalist movements that called for the return of all Africans to the African continent.

Religious congregations soon became the new socio-economic, as well as spiritual and cultural, centre of African American communities, and were the altars from which new political-philosophical currents of the movement for the emancipation of Black people were spread, such as the “Universal Negro Improvement Association” led by Marcus Garvey.

Earl and Louise Little, Malcolm X's parents, also admired Marcus Garvey's Pan-Africanist ideas and became active members of UNIA. Because of their involvement, they suffered numerous attacks from local white supremacist groups, forcing them to move away. Despite his efforts to protect his family, Earl Little was ultimately killed by the Black Legion[4], a white supremacist organization close to the Ku Klux Klan, leaving his wife and seven children to fend for themselves.

Years after his death, Louise Little was institutionalized in a psychiatric facility, while Malcolm and his siblings were separated and placed in foster care.

Malcolm X's adolescence was marked by a lack of prospects; despite his intelligence and academic abilities, he was constantly reminded that he lived in a place where a “career-oriented Black man”, willing to improve his living conditions, had no place.

His family history, marked by violence inflicted by white supremacism and racism, is no different or more bloody than that of thousands of African Americans living in the Southern states. He moved to the North and began a life of insecurity, crime and lust, which would cost him prison for years.

It was in prison that Malcolm X found a mentor, John Bremby, whom he later described as «the first man I had ever seen command total respect ... with words» (Malcolm X, 1964). An educated man who ignited his desire to read and learn, in order to gain respect through dialectic and critical thinking. Thanks to his brothers' letters, he learnt about the existence of the Nation of Islam and began to take an interest in the precepts of Islam, becoming fascinated by the fact that this new religious movement preached the return of the African Diaspora to Africa, where they can prosper free from white American and European domination.

For Malcolm, the Nation of Islam became a place to find inspiration and a foundation for his beliefs, a place where he did not have to suppress his anger toward the racist white society that, despite the abolition of slavery, still permits segregation and lynchings.

While in prison, he began an important correspondence with Elijah Muhammad, leader of the NOI, after declaring his desire to abandon his past and convert to Islam.

«I became increasingly frustrated at not being able to express what I wanted to convey in letters that I wrote, especially those to Mr. Elijah Muhammad. In the street, I had been the most articulate hustler out there-I had commanded attention when I said something. But now, trying to write simple English, I not only wasn't articulate, I wasn't even functional» (Malcolm X, 1964).

Malcolm X’s words clearly reveal his passion for Political Philosophy and dialectics, stimulated by his exchanges with Elijah Muhammad, but also by his desire for redemption from a life without purpose and perspective.

It was at this moment that Malcolm Stuart Little abandoned the surname given to him by his ancestor's slave master and became Malcolm X, an African American Muslim and an official member of the Nation of Islam. For Malcolm X, prison would be more than just confinement - it became a long journey of self-awareness and rediscovery of faith and the Black Pride, taught to him by his parents from an early age. The myths he had grown up with, along with the violence he had endured, would be the seed that, during his time in prison—and with the moral and spiritual guidance of the Nation of Islam—would allow him to blossom.

After his release from prison, Malcolm X would begin a dizzying career within the Nation of Islam, which, during his involvement, grew from a few thousand members to nearly half a million, particularly in Harlem, the Black Mecca, where the NOI saw its greatest expansion. Malcolm X took on the role of spokesman for Minister Elijah Muhammad, thus beginning to speak to the press, on radio, at rallies and public demonstrations, not only to an African American audience, but to the entire country: Malcolm X had become a political leader. His speeches were stark and openly criticized organizations advocating for the advancement of Black people through integration, a term he dismantled from its foundations and countered it with the total segregation of Black people from a racist white society that does not want them and is unwilling to accept them as citizens.

For Malcolm X, the Nation of Islam provided the political framework to test his dialectical ability by organizing Black people into communities for self-defense and resisting exploitation through economic independence.

His profile soon attracted the interest of the FBI, particularly after an incident that would unequivocally showcase Malcolm X's enormous ability to lead the action of thousands in protest against the police.

On April 26, 1957, some members of the Seventh Harlem Mosque, led by Malcolm X, witnessed a police beating of a young African American man; when asked by the officers to leave the scene, one of them, Hinton, responded, «You're not in Alabama - this is New York» Hinton was arrested and beaten to a pulp. Malcolm X and some members of the mosque marched to the police station. In less than half an hour, 50 members of the Fruit of Islam, the paramilitary branch of the Nation of Islam, had lined up in front of the precinct. Malcolm X demanded that Hinton be taken to Harlem Hospital for medical treatment; meanwhile, the number of people outside had grown to nearly two thousand. Once Hinton received proper care, Malcolm approached the crowd, raised his arm, and gave a hand signal. One passerby described the scene as «eerie, because these people just faded into the night. It was the most orderly movement of four thousand to five thousand people I’ve ever seen in my life − they just simply disappeared − right before our eyes».

This event drew media attention to the Nation of Islam, but also to Malcolm X as a leader, who gained a reputation as a man who «could either stop a race riot or start one».  Of course, it was not only the Harlem public that took notice, but also the NYPD. Malcolm's silent command also left a strong impression on the NYPD. The chief inspector on the scene turned to Amsterdam News reporter James Hicks and said, «This is too much power for one man». This is why he quickly sent a series of urgent requests to police departments and state agencies in Michigan and Massachusetts, requesting Malcolm’s criminal record. Malcolm also became a primary concern for the NYPD’s newly formed surveillance unit, the Bureau of Special Services and Investigation (BOSSI).

The Nation of Islam filed three lawsuits against the NYPD, the largest of which was for one million dollars. The 70.000 dollars settlement won by Hinton was the largest ever paid by the city in a police brutality case and was awarded by an all-white jury. The legacy of the Johnston X Hinton case was not simply the explosion of Malcolm X on the local and national scene, but also a crucial precedent for countering police brutality through a combination of litigations and public protests.

In the early 1960s, Malcolm was actively violating Elijah Muhammad’s official policy: the Nation of Islam was not to be involved in political activism.

Not only did Malcolm X meet Fidel Castro, the leader of the Cuban revolution, in Harlem, but he also spoke out fiercely against the Kennedy administration for its indecision on civil rights, going so far as to comment on the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963: «chickens coming home to roost», a comment that earned the NOI spokesman a 90-day ban from public appearances.

Malcolm X’s attempts to reinvigorate the NOI headquarters in Chicago further soured his relationship with the NOI leadership and fuelled insidious fears that he was aiming to become the heir to Elijah Muhammad. Using informants and wiretaps, the FBI stirred up this hornet’s nest, seeking to weaken the NOI from within and ensure that it remained detached from the civil rights movement. Hoover’s strategy[5] was to divide and conquer.

On March 8, 1963, after three months of silence, Malcolm X left the Nation of Islam and, on March 12, with a press conference in front of the Park Sheraton Hotel in New York, he founded the Muslim Mosque Inc. and the Organization of Afro-American Unity. With this speech, he moved away from the most intransigent position of Black nationalism:

«I’m not out [of NOI e.n.] to fight other Negro leaders or organizations. We must find a common approach, a common solution, to a common problem. [...] The problem facing our people here in America is bigger than all other personal or organizational differences. Therefore, as leaders, we must stop worrying about the threat that we seem to think we pose to each other’s personal prestige, and concentrate our united efforts toward solving the unending hurt that is being done daily to our people here in America» (Malcolm X, 1964).

He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to distance himself from non-violence and talk about the legitimacy of violence when necessary:

«Concerning nonviolence: it is criminal to teach a man not to defend himself when he is the constant victim of brutal attacks. It is legal and lawful to own a shotgun or a rifle. We believe in obeying the law. In areas where our people are the constant victims of brutality, and the government seems unable or unwilling to protect them, we should form rifle clubs that can be used to defend our lives and our property» (Malcolm X, 1964).

His trips to Africa and the Middle East would broaden his cultural and religious horizons. Particularly after his trip to Mecca, where men and women from every corner of the world pray together: it was here that Malcolm experienced and understood Islam’s ability to erase national boundaries in favour of a universalistic discourse.

His figure changed, his political approach became more mature and aware: firm in his positions but ready to build alliances. Malcolm X thus became a dangerous aggregator, in years when racial confrontation and the election of a new presidency wanted to end the Civil Rights Movement's ability to form Black leaders capable of speaking to the entire nation. His fame among young people, verbal effrontery, intelligence, and rigor made him fascinating and ready to be a leader of a cross-cutting movement. His persona was increasingly uncomfortable.

On 21 February 1965, at the age of 39, Malcolm X was assassinated while praying in his mosque. Sixteen shots were fired into his chest, killing him instantly. The assassins turned out to be three members of the NOI: the organisation denied any involvement.

60 years after his death, what do the words of a Black man, child of the United States of the racial segregation, whose life was broken before he was 40, continue to reveal?

His speeches argued against integration, a hypocritical political proposal designed to gain the electoral votes of the African-American community. These votes were to be won through false promises that pushed on the desire for pacification and security from continuous racial attacks and violence. According to Malcolm X, the Black population’s processes of emancipation through legal and legislative struggles could not be the only way forward. He saw these attempts, openly backed by progressive Whites, as resulting in the consolidation of the status of second-class citizens for African-American people, who would not have to fight for ad hoc laws if they were considered citizens with equal rights. 

The courage of his positions was underpinned by lucid, pragmatic reasoning that focused on regaining dignity for all African American people through the development of economic autonomy, the need to promote the right to self-defence against the brutality of racial violence, and the promotion of policies that would unite the African American community across religious and ideological lines. His speeches were not aimed at whites in positions of power, he did not try to sugar-coat it, he did not bow down to a country that did not consider him a citizen, and so he rejected the American patriotism that many black leaders embraced for fear of being silenced.

«No, I’m not [...] American. I’m one of the 22 million Black victims of Americanism. [...] I speak as a victim of America’s so-called democracy. You and I have never seen democracy - all we’ve seen is hypocrisy. [...] We see America through the eyes of someone who has been the victim of Americanism. We don’t see any American dream. We’ve experienced only the American nightmare» (Malcolm X, 1964).

What attracted and shaped an entire generation of Black militant-activists in the 1960s was the charisma, dialectic, social analysis and message of militant resistance, not the religious dogma of the NOI or the mystical beliefs of its self-proclaimed prophet E. Muhammad.

Religion provided Malcolm with answers, a purpose, rules to cling to, and a source of hope at a time when the construction of Black identity in American society was being fiercely opposed. The revolution he aspired to had to be supported by a process of rebuilding African American communities struggling for freedom; a new myth was needed, based on pride, autonomy and brotherhood with all oppressed Black people around the world.

As the NOI's official spokesman, he could show off his dialectical skills during his public appearances, calmly tackling interviews that sounded more like interrogations. In fact, Malcolm managed to never get backed into a corner and almost always ended up conducting the interview himself, wearing down the white conductors by repeating his watchwords or continually correcting them, thus rejecting the subordinate position in which they tried to lock him up. Malcolm X showed how crucial it is that oppressed and marginally constrained communities do not focus on answering questions posed by white men, who are often more concerned with defending their privileged status, given by a supremacist system damnably committed to its self-preservation. The interviews became the stage from which to ridicule power and where to determine a counter-narrative designed to dismantle supremacist rhetoric; to build a generation of fearless African Americans and African Americans capable of openly denouncing the system that had too long taught them, even through Black leaders, to “suffer peacefully.”

The reason why even today Harlem’s Enfant Terrible is considered dangerous is simple: Malcolm X preached the right to self-defense against racial violence, refused to be silenced by white people who accused him of being a hate-monger, asserting that no white man could lecture on civility, with their hands dripping with blood. These speeches struck at the heart of the atavistic fear of white people of waking up one morning to the vengeance of oppressed communities.

Those who claim Malcolm X incited hatred do not know what it means to be subjected to the violence of power. His words made it possible to legitimize the anger of the African American community - an anger moved by love and a desire for redemption, an anger worthy of existence and expression.

[1] The Movement emerged in the early 1950s, with the goal of achieving equal rights and ending segregation and racial exclusion. By the end of the following decade, the Movement achieved the sweeping changes it had championed, securing legal protection of freedoms and rights for African Americans (Library of Congress).

[2] «I Am Omar». A quest for the true Identity of Omar Ibn Said, a Muslim man enslaved in the Carolinas. The Post and Courier. Sunday, May 29, 2022.

[3] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vN8bg2UiiVg&t=152s

[4] African American Registry organization. https://aaregistry.org/story/the-black-legion-formed/

[5] J. Edgar Hoover. West Philadelphia Collaborative History.

By Hajar Ouahbi

Written listening to this playlist:

«Hold up the peace sign, as-salamu alaykum» raps Big Daddy Kane at the close of Ain’t No Half-Steppin’. For decades, Black Muslims have harnessed hip-hop as a platform to assert their identity within the Muslim Ummah while transforming it into a powerful tool of liberation. Through this art form, they’ve redefined the intersection of faith and culture : not only for themselves but also for other marginalized communities.

When I first heard A$AP Ferg’s Plain Jane, I was struck by his repeated use of the phrases “Hamdullah” and “Mashallah”. As a Muslim myself, I wondered about his motivations. Reflecting on this, Ferg clarified: «I am not a Muslim. My grandfather was a Muslim, but I am not. This is just another way to say, ‘all praise to God.’ After all, there is only one God, right? There is only one energy». This influence stretches back to Hip-hop pioneers like Rakim, Afrika Islam, and the Wu-Tang Clan. For instance, Mos Def opens his album Black on Both Sides with the Qur'anic phrase “Bismillah Ar-Rahman Ar-Rahim”, echoing the Islamic tradition of purifying intentions before starting something. Wu-Tang Clan’s GZA references Medina, one of the most sacred cities in Islam, in his track Gold: «I'm deep down in the back streets, in the heart of Medina/About to set off something more deep than a misdemeanor». Even the moniker RZA is an abbreviation of Rakim Zig-Zag Allah. Such instances highlight the deep imprint of Islam on Hip-hop culture.

To understand this connection, it’s crucial to distinguish between two forms of Hip-hop shaped by Islam: Islamic Hip-hop and American Muslim Hip-hop. The former adheres strictly to Islamic principles : limiting musical instruments, avoiding profanity, and centering doctrinal themes. Groups like Native Deen, active in the 2000s, exemplify this genre with their faith-driven lyrics and adherence to Islamic values. By contrast, American Muslim Hip-hop is rooted in the longstanding relationship between African American communities and Islam. This bond, while seemingly paradoxical, especially since music is considered “haram” (forbidden) in Islam, finds its roots in history, when music became a political tool. «Why Islam?» says Elijah Muhammad, leader of the Nation of Islam and mentor to Malcolm X, «because it teaches first the knowledge of self. It gives us the knowledge of our own. Then and only then are we able to understand that which surrounds us … this kind of thinking produces industrious people who are self-independent»[1].

Most Islamic references in American hip-hop trace back to the Five-Percent Nation, a movement founded in 1964. Its members, “Allah's Five Percenters,” believe 10% of the population are elites who obscure the truth from the ignorant 85%, while the enlightened 5% work to spread knowledge.

As Vice Magazine[2] noted in its article on Muslim rapper Jay Electronica, the Five-Percent Nation has been affiliated with Hip-hop since its early days, coining terms like “ciphers” and “dropping science”. They even renamed the neighborhoods: Harlem became Mecca, and Brooklyn is Medina.  This influence extends to a wide range of artists, including artists that don’t present themselves as muslims like the World's Famous Supreme Team, Busta Rhymes, J. Cole, Jay-Z, Method Man, Brand Nubian, Nas, Common, Poor Righteous Teachers, Erykah Badu, and AZ.

While the roots of hip-hop lie firmly in the United States, its influence has extended far beyond, shaping and being reshaped by cultures worldwide : including in Europe. However, the presence of Islam in European rap lyrics is not merely an echo of American influence. For many second- and third-generation immigrants in Europe, Islam becomes a reclaimed heritage, a foundation they adapt and transform within their dual cultural realities, identities blend, creating a uniquely hybrid expression. Belgian anthropologist Farid El Asri, in The Musical Expression of European Muslims. Creation of Tones in the Event of the Religious Norms (2009), explains: «European Muslim artists reformulate their identities and craft musically Islamic, culturally hybrid, and globalized contours from a system of meaning defined by religion».

The vastness of European colonial empires drew immigrants from various countries with distinct languages, histories, and traditions. Despite these differences, their experiences in Europe often converge : marked by racism, marginalization, and ghettoization. For Muslims, and even non-Muslims, living these realities, Islam often lends depth and coherence to rap's message. In some instances, Islam transcends ethnic divides, uniting communities through shared beliefs. As the French rap group Ministère A.M.E.R expressed in an interview with the rap fanzine Yours: «Black people in France have no collective strength or unifying bond, as they come from different countries, with different histories, languages, and migration periods. Nothing truly unites them. So, to me, Islam seemed like one of the solutions. Islam is a cement for Black people, for me»[3].

While there are parallels between Islam’s role in hip-hop across the Atlantic, the dynamics differ significantly. In Europe, Black communities who practice Islam often adhere to similar Sunni traditions, albeit enriched with cultural nuances. This shared religious framework generally reinforces the unity of the “Ummah”. In contrast, the United States reflects a distinct historical and political intertwining of Islam with African-American liberation movements. This connection, explored earlier, has fostered the development of “Black Islam”. 

Within the United States, where Muslims form a multiracial minority, segregationist tendencies persist : both externally and internally. Externally, African American Muslims often face the denial of their Muslim identity by non-Muslims. Scholars argue that this is largely due to the dominance of South Asian and Arab traditions in shaping the public representation of Islam in the U.S. In his seminal book, Islam and the Blackamerican: Looking Toward the Third Resurrection (2005), Sherman Jackson examines how Black Muslims in the U.S. struggle to carve out a space in a Muslim community where these immigrant traditions often dictate what it means to be an “authentic” Muslim. This paradigm excludes Africa from the so-called “Muslim world” and reinforces a narrow definition of Islam that marginalizes Black Muslims.

Internally, some Muslim circles express discomfort with the perceived unorthodoxy of certain African American Islamic practices. Su’ad Abdul Khabeer tackles this complexity by framing Black Islam as a “big tent” encompassing diverse expressions of faith. She writes: «I use the term ‘big tent’ to describe the different forms of Islamic beliefs and practices that we find in Black U.S. America. Under this big tent, I include the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, the Moorish Science Temple, the Nation of Islam, and the Five Percent Nation of Gods and Earths, as well as Sunni and Shi'a orthodoxies (which include Sufi traditions). This approach will be controversial to Sunni and Shi'a Muslims who identify some of these groups as unorthodox or even as non-Muslims. This stems from disagreements over how they interpret the Qur’an and the traditions of the Prophet Muhammad, as well as the ways cultural practices of Arab and South Asian U.S. Muslims define Islam. For example, the fezzes and turbans of the Moors, the bow ties of the NOI, and even the geles (head wraps) worn by many Black Sunni women in the U.S. are often seen as falling outside the bounds of ‘true’ Islam. However, I do not use this term to arbitrate what is or is not ‘true’ Islam.».

These different traditions of Black Islam share a common goal: fighting against the injustices faced by Black communities, though their influence goes beyond that. Each tradition works to challenge unfair systems by offering new ways of thinking, organizing, and living that help empower individuals and their communities. Empowerment, in fact, is central to the story. In a post-9/11 era, where Muslims face heightened surveillance and suspicion, solidarity within and beyond Black Islam has become essential for resilience and survival. Hisham Aidi, in Rebel Music: Race, Empire, and the New Muslim Youth Culture (2014), explores how African American experiences have shaped the global Muslim diaspora. He emphasizes the role of music as a tool for young Muslims to express frustration with policies targeting their communities under the pretext of counterterrorism. They would come together around a new Hip-hop sound as a form of resistance.

Su’ad Abdul Khabeer introduces “Muslim Cool”, a concept that reframes U.S. Muslim identity around Blackness, providing a counterpoint to the prevailing South Asian and Arab influences within American Muslim communities.

In her ethnographic study, Abdul Khabeer argues that Blackness is central to shaping a distinctly American Muslim identity. She describes it as a framework that not only confronts systemic and racial inequalities but also invites American Muslims to deeply engage with their faith and identity. She illustrates this with the story of a Libyan-American man who rediscovered Islam through Hip-hop. Influenced by the Five Percenter philosophy and Muslim Cool, he came to define Islam through principles like «knowledge, wisdom, understanding, justice, freedom, equality, love, peace, and happiness». For Abdul Khabeer, Hip-hop and Black Islam offer American Muslims a transformative lens for navigating both their faith and their place in society.

The embrace of Muslim Cool faces challenges, even within Black Muslim communities. Some reject it, favoring practices tied to South Asian and Arab norms. Abdul Khabeer observes that these reactions often result in the policing of what is deemed authentically Islamic, contributing to the normalization of marginalizing Black cultural expressions in the process. “Muslim Cool”, indeed, directly challenges these restrictive norms. Rooted in the ethos of Hip-hop and Black Islam, it asserts that just as Hip-hop embodies Islam, Islam embodies freedom.

[1] Muhammad, E. (23 novembre 1960). Elijah Muhammad Speaks on the Importance of History. WNTA Radio, New York.

[2] Vice Magazine. (2013). The Prestige, The Five Percenters, and Why Jay Electronica Hasn’t Released His Debut Album. https://www.vice.com/en/article/the-prestige-the-five-percenters-and-why-jay-electronica-hasnt-released-his-debut-album/

[3] Fanzine Yours.

[4] Abdul Khabeer, S. (2016). Muslim Cool: Race, Religion, and Hip Hop in the United States. New York, NY: New York University Press

by DARNA

Oh, I come from a land


From a faraway place


Where the caravan camels roam.


Where they cut off your ear


If they don't like your face


It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home.

Arabian nights - Bruce Adler

It is November 25th, 1992, cinemas are packed with entire families. The lights go out and “Aladdin”, the Disney feature film by Ron Clements and John Musker, is projected on the screen. The first scenes open with the much-loved song Arabian Nights. Although the film has become a landmark in Western pop culture, the debate surrounding its release is not well known. In the first few weeks after its release, the film received a lot of criticism from the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee, which pushed with its protests for the second half of the second verse of the opening track to be changed to “It’s flat and immense, and the heat is intense”. According to the ADC, the original lyrics suggested that this “faraway place”, presumably an Arab country, was a land of violent and barbaric people, and was therefore diseducative and discriminatory: «Where they cut off your ear, If they don’t like your face». Commenting on the case, the ADC chairman stated: «I don’t want my grandchildren being exposed to the same old tired stereotypes that my children were embarrassed by when they were growing up. It is long past time for Hollywood to portray Arabs and Arab Americans with the same complexity and dimension that other minorities are now accorded. [...] And we want Arab-American actors, directors and scriptwriters to give us a fresh new vision of the Arab world, one that is true to the culture and true to the history»[1].

Regardless of the modification later made when the film was released on VHS, it is important to note how the final verse, «It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home», was retained and is still sung today. Aladdin is part of a broad imagery to which we have been exposed consciously and subconsciously since childhood.

For Palestinian intellectual Edward Said, who has focused extensively on the relationship between discourse and power, between the image of the “West” and its creation of an undefined “East”, the mystified portrayal of the Arabs aims at their complete otherization, in order to justify colonial domination under the banner of “civilisation”. Said calls Orientalism this gaze that - first at the service of colonialism, and later of institutional racism and Islamophobia - depicts Arab peoples as incapable of governing themselves, irrational, savage and barbaric, and therefore tameable.

When it comes to cinema and its history, there is often a tendency to overlook its colonial origins and not place it in time. Cinema as a narrative medium was born in France in the late 19th century, at the height of colonial expansionism and the building of nation-states. Therefore, it logically follows that, while the film represented the discovery of a new way of telling the world, it is also true that cinema arrived in the colonies as an instrument of power and a means of constructing a fictional and valiant narrative of the European colonial venture. What does today’s industry inherit from this narrative and political legacy? And, above all, has it been deconstructed?

In the experimental documentary Introduction to the End of an Argument (1990), Elia Suleiman shows how this artifice actively participated in the Zionist occupation of Palestine. By stringing together scenes from Hollywood, European and Israeli films, documentaries and news reports, the director shows the Western media regurgitation and its portrayal of the “Middle East”, Arab culture and the Palestinians. The imagery is the same as that which structures the verses of Arabian Nights: incivility is the rule, but it still is home. Home to the terrorist, the dashiki-wearing sage, the hijabi to be saved, the exotic belly-dancer, the mad Imam and the moderate Muslim. These are caricatural and archetypal figures of a totalising and imperialistic vision, of colonial origin, that populate Hollywood films and have legitimised the violence against Arab and Muslim communities for years. However, as the peoples resisted colonisation, many local filmmakers saw the camera as a weapon to subvert colonial power; this is the case of Third Cinema, an independent and revolutionary film current closely linked to decolonisation.

It is precisely from this visual universe that we came up with the need to make Darna, Arabic for “our home”, to counter and deconstruct stereotypical dominant narratives. We feel the urge to create and re-appropriate spaces for circulating narratives that are intentionally relegated to the margins, to emphasise authentic cinematic languages, constructed by and for the very communities represented. From the outset, our aim was to move away from a Eurocentric view of media circulation. Within commercial cinema - but it’s not relegated to that - there is this unspoken assumption that media trajectories flow from a “North”, often coinciding with Hollywood, to a “South” that receives and passively assimilates or imitates. Subverting this binomial means supporting and promoting narratives at the margins, not in order to assimilate them into an economically and socially constructed “centre”, but to restore centrality to subaltern voices. 

Let’s try to think about where the vast majority of film funding and financing comes from. It is not so difficult to identify how the same dynamics of colonial power still reproduce and perpetuate themselves in a world where the “spectre” of colonialism has never ceased to exist. Many diaspora filmmakers are forced to make compromises in order to realise their projects. These products are often shaped in order to draw from a symbolic universe that is more “familiar” to Western audiences. The film American Fiction (2023) tells this dynamic in an ironic and biting tone, exposing the hypocrisy of the American art industry.

Throughout history, the two terms “Arab” and “Muslim” have been deliberately overlapped as if they were one and the same, with the ultimate aim of fuelling a politically elaborated narrative artifice. Arab-Americans, predominantly Christians (with Muslim, Jewish and secular components), represent a complex and plural community from the SWANA region[2], while Muslims of America are the offspring of different diasporas and geographical areas, such as South-East Asia or Sub Saharan Africa. Cherien Dabis well shows this commonplace in Amreeka (2009), when Mr. Novatsky is surprised to discover that the protagonist Muna is a Christian Palestinian.

Parallel to the growth in the number of Muslims in America, Islamophobia has also increased. In the collective imagery, the latter is associated with the events of 9/11, but hatred and discrimination against the Muslim community go back decades earlier. This is discussed by Mahmoud Abdel Raouf in By the dawn's early light: Chris Jackson's Journey To Islam (2004), which recounts the story of a U.S. basketball player whose home was burned down by a Ku Klux Klan raid. In Sut Jhally's 2006 documentary Reel Bad Arabs: How Hollywood Vilifies a People, researcher Jack Shaheen succinctly describes the portrayal of Arabs and Muslims after viewing about 1,000 films made between 1896 and 2000. Shaheen concludes that this representation is the result of stereotypical caricatures: about 900 films presented a negative representation, 52 were neutral, and few offered a positive one.

On screen, this is the image that shows: that of a monolithic block of people, which ignore the existence of a larger, more complex American community. Yet, documentaries such as New Muslim Cool (2009) and An Act Of Worship (2022) and films such as The Taqwacores (2010) and Jinn (2018) have contributed to the inclusion of stories of Puerto Rican converts, punk Muslims, and Black women.

Going back to Aladdin, a week before the release of its “original” version, Spike Lee's Malcolm X (1992) was screened in the U.S. It captures the essence of the political and religious man, providing a new perspective on African American Muslims. The Black Muslim community, in fact, makes up more than half of the Muslims who have been in America for three generations, and has a centuries-long history in the shaping of American Muslim cultures. Despite this, its presence is often overlooked or associated with negative stereotypes, such as heterodoxy and anti-American hatred. If in the Orientalist vision the dichotomy “Good Muslim” and “Bad Muslim” is represented, the same is applied to the depiction of the “good Black Muslim” who, in order not to be seen as a threat, must conform to the role of an agent of the state like Ahmet in Five Fingers (2006). During the 1990s, however, films such as Daughters of the Dust (1991) and South Central (1992) began to include African American Muslim characters, exploring the intersections between religious and cultural identity, between political and spiritual struggle. African American films started to offer more nuanced portrayals, though often confined to the narrative of iconic figures such as Muhammad Ali or Malcolm X.

In the process of selecting films for Darna screenings, we often find it difficult to find suitable genre fiction films produced in Europe or America: science fiction, horror, or a corny romantic comedy seem not to belong to us.

Aware of the causes mentioned so far, and without wishing to fall into the rigid separatism between “cinema and documentary cinema,” the conclusion we’ve come to is that Muslims exist: either as stereotypes and caricatures in “Mediascapes”[3] where they don’t belong, or in hyper-realist representations to counter the former; or they do not exist at all and are therefore invisibilized.

There are clearly exceptions, such as the series Ramy (2019) and Mo (2022), which represent an innovative approach to storytelling about the lives of Muslim Americans. Ramy, a young Egyptian-American, addresses the conflict between faith and modernity, while Mo, a Palestinian refugee, seeks a balance between his cultural roots and life in the United States. Both works have sparked debates for their progressive portrayal of Islam and the complexities of identity, yet they offer an authentic and multifaceted look at faith, work, family, and love.

On the other hand, documentaries remain the most direct medium for social critique. In The Feeling of Being Watched (2018), Assia Boundaoui explores the surveillance system that affects Muslims in her neighborhood in Chicago and in the United States in general. The 2001 Patriot Act and the 2017 Muslim Ban laws have normalized racism and Islamophobia in the country, framing any Muslim as a potential threat. These laws have contributed to the spread of an invasive and colonial gaze on Muslim American communities.

Showing alternative and subaltern viewpoints can be a way to complexify the «myth of representation». As Boundaoui notes, «It is in the act of looking back and speaking out that we become less alienated, less paralyzed by our paranoia. Perhaps the only way to break surveillance is to make those who observe be observed as well»[4]. Reversing the gaze, turning the observed into observers, is not just a form of claiming, but an act of self-determination. We no longer want to be passive objects of imposed narratives, but active subjects of our own stories.

Letterboxd list curated by DARNA with the few (very few) American films featuring Muslim characters beyond the jihadist and the belly dancer:

https://letterboxd.com/darnacinema/list/dis-orientalising/

[1] Ziad Asali in Arab Stereotypes and American Educators by Marvin Wingfield and Bushra Karaman p. 3, ADC's articles of Beyond Heroes and Holidays: A Practical Guide to K-12 Anti-Racist, Multicultural Education and Staff Development, edited by Enid Lee, Deborah Menkart, and Margo Okazawa-Rey (AK Press, 2007)

[2] S.W.A.N.A. is a decolonial word for the South West Asia/North Africa region, rather than the Middle East, the Near East, the Arab world or the Islamic world, all of which have colonial, Eurocentric and Orientalist origins and were created to confuse, contain and dehumanise the peoples who inhabit these geographical regions (SWANA Alliance).

[3] "Mediascapes" neologism by which Indian anthropologist Arjun Appadurai has defined those «repertoires of images, narratives, and ethnoscapes to viewers throughout the world, in which the world of commodities and the world of news and politics are profoundly mixed»(Meltemi, 2018).

[4] Based on the film The Feeling of Being Watched (2018), Assia Boundaoui.

1. The Legacy of African American Muslim: from Omar Ibn Said to Malcom X

Haley, A., Malcolm X. (1965). The autobiography of Malcolm X. Grove Press.

Malcolm X. (1964). The ballot or the bullet.

Malcolm X. (1964). A declaration of independence.

Malcolm X. (1964). A homemade education.

The Post and Courier. (2022). “I Am Omar”: A quest for the true identity of Omar Ibn Said, a Muslim man enslaved in the Carolinas.

2. From Beliefs To Beats: The Role Of Hip-Hop In Affirming African American “Muslimness”

Abdul Khabeer, S. (2016). Muslim Cool: Race, Religion, and Hip Hop in the United States. New York, NY: New York University Press.

Aidi, H. (2014). Rebel Music: Race, Empire, and the New Muslim Youth Culture. New York, NY: Pantheon Books.

Jackson, S. (2005). Islam and the Blackamerican: Looking Toward the Third Resurrection. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Muhammad, E. (1960, November 23). Elijah Muhammad Speaks on the Importance of History. WNTA Radio, New York.

3. (Dis)orientalizing Amreeka from Aladdin to Malcolm X: how Hollywood otherized Muslims

Barlet, O. (1996). Les cinémas d'Afrique: De la colonisation à la mondialisation. L’Harmattan.

Fanon, F. (1952). Peau noire, masques blancs. Éditions du Seuil.

D. Menkart, & M. Okazawa-Rey (Eds.), Beyond heroes and holidays: A practical guide to K-12 anti-racist, multicultural education and staff development. AK Press.

Petersen, K. (2021). New approaches to Islam in film. Routledge.

Said, E. W. (1981). Covering Islam: How the media and the experts determine how we see the rest of the world. Pantheon Books.

Said, E. W. (1978). Orientalism. Pantheon Books.

2. From Beliefs To Beats: The Role Of Hip-Hop In Affirming African American “Muslimness”

Amghar, S. (2003). Rap et islam : quand le rappeur devient imam. Hommes et Migrations, 1243, 78–86.

El Asri, F. (2009). The Musical Expression of European Muslims. Creation of Tones in the Event of the Religious Norms. Revue européenne des migrations internationales, vol. 25 - n°2.

Hagedorn, J. M. (2006). Race not space: A revisionist history of gangs in Chicago. The Journal of African American History, 91(2), 194–208.

The Conversation. (2023). Knowledge of self: How a key phrase from Islam became a pillar of hip-hop. https://theconversation.com/knowledge-of-self-how-a-key-phrase-from-islam-became-a-pillar-of-hip-hop-208559

Vice Magazine. (2013). The Prestige, The Five Percenters, and Why Jay Electronica Hasn’t Released His Debut Album. https://www.vice.com/en/article/the-prestige-the-five-percenters-and-why-jay-electronica-hasnt-released-his-debut-album/ 

3. (Dis)orientalizing Amreeka from Aladdin to Malcolm X: how Hollywood otherized Muslims

Wingfield, M., & Karaman, B. (2007). Arab stereotypes and American educators. In E. Lee,

1. The Legacy of African American Muslim: from Omar Ibn Said to Malcom X

Muslim studies on Malcolm X:

1) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mhd5gru7X8

2) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_42OUNYHM8

Malcolm X Interviews and speeches:

1) Explaining Islam: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ6mNMS0HQ0

2) Interview at Berkeley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZMrti8QcPA

3) Malcolm X and Nation of Islam: https://youtu.be/uZZ-j4ZB-Go?si=d1ltqIeyuETyD1Mm

3) Malcolm X debates Bayarn Rustin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmVjIooLCe8

4) Malcolm X on Reparations: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmVjIooLCe8

5) Meeting Castro: https://youtu.be/6b34FU53phw?si=N_mMnfGPjjXtUwJO

6) Angela Davis on Malcolm X: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFYWNUXNPRc

2. From Beliefs To Beats: The Role Of Hip-Hop In Affirming African American “Muslimness”

Maameri, K. (Director). (2011). Don’t Panik!

3. (Dis)orientalizing Amreeka from Aladdin to Malcolm X: how Hollywood otherized Muslims

Clements, R., & Musker, J. (Directors). (1992). Aladdin. Walt Disney Pictures; Walt Disney Feature Animation.

Jefferson, C. (Director). (2023). American Fiction. Amazon MGM Studios.

Dabis, C. (Director). (2009). Amreeka. National Geographic Entertainment.

Eastwood, C. (Director). (2014). American Sniper. Warner Bros. Pictures.

Dadabhoy, N. (Director). (2022). An Act of Worship. Capital K Pictures.

Affleck, B. (Director). (2012). Argo. Warner Bros. Pictures.

Dash, J. (Director). (1991). Daughters of the Dust. Kino International.

Villeneuve, D. (Director). (2021). Dune. Warner Bros. Pictures.

Fanaka, J. (Director). (1976). Emma Mae. Fanaka Films.

Malkin, L. (Director). (2006). Five Fingers. Universal Pictures.

Salloum, J., & Suleiman, E. (Directors). (1990). Introduction to the End of an Argument. Third World Newsreel.

Mu’min, N. (Director). (2018). Jinn. Orion Classics.

Lee, S. (Director). (1992). Malcolm X. Warner Bros. Pictures.

Youssef, R., & Amer, M. (Creators). (2022). Mo. A24; Netflix.

Taylor, J. M. (Director). (2009). New Muslim Cool. Independent Television Service (ITVS); Latino Public Broadcasting.

Youssef, R., Katcher, A., & Welch, R. (Creators). (2019). Ramy. A24; Hulu.

Anderson, S. (Director). (1992). South Central. Warner Bros. Pictures.

Boundaoui, A. (Director). (2018). The Feeling of Being Watched. Tribeca Film Institute; PBS.

Zahra, E. (Director). (2010). The Taqwacores. Strand Releasing.

2. From Beliefs To Beats: The Role Of Hip-Hop In Affirming African American “Muslimness”

A$AP Ferg’s Plain Jane. (2017). New York, NY. (RCA Records)

Big Daddy Kane’s Ain’t No Half-Steppin’. (1988). New York, NY. (Cold Chillin’ / Warner Bros.)

Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides (album). (1999). Brooklyn, NY. (Rawkus Records)

GZA’s Gold. (1995). New York, NY. (Geffen Records)

1. The Legacy of African American Muslim: from Omar Ibn Said to Malcom X

1) https://malcolm-x.it/it/vita.htm

2) https://www.britannica.com/biography/Malcolm-X

3) https://collaborativehistory.gse.upenn.edu/stories/malcolm-x-part-iii-malcolm-x-and-nation-islam

4) https://collaborativehistory.gse.upenn.edu/stories/malcolm-x-part-iv-malcolm%E2%80%99s-rendezvous-death-and-beyond

3. (Dis)orientalizing Amreeka from Aladdin to Malcolm X: how Hollywood otherized Muslims

Pew Research Center (2018), Besheer Mohamed: https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2018/01/03/new-estimates-show-u-s-muslim-population-continues-to-grow/