Being a visibly Muslim woman in Britain has always felt like living with a target on my back - or on my head in the form of my hijab. We exist at the crossroads of violent misogyny and systemic Islamophobia - constantly being told we are either a victim or a threat - and all the while our actual voices are drowned out.
Since race riots have erupted across the UK in recent days, following the horrific killings in Southport, this contradiction and uncertainty has morphed into something more sinister. Immigrants, asylum seekers and minority communities are being specifically targetted and scapegoated for everything that's wrong with the country. Being visibly Muslim is physically dangerous - a red flag to those who view my existence as un-British even if it’s the only home country I’ve ever known.
In the last week, mosques have been attacked and partially destroyed, hotels housing asylum seekers have been set alight and shops owned by those perceived to be Muslim have been looted. There have been reports of rioters dragging people out of cars, beating up those who look foreign and hurling abuse at Muslim passers-by.
I’ve seen videos of worshippers being accused of paedophilia, grooming and terrorism whilst simply trying to get inside their mosques and there have been chants of 'English till I die', 'who the f*ck is Allah' and 'send them home' across countless British towns and cities. It feels like an understatement to say that in this climate, the entire Muslim community feels precarious and unsafe.
Look at the horrific details of the violence erupting over the last few days and you’ll see a common theme of crowds targeting Muslim women: a hijab-wearing mother and her baby assaulted in public, of head coverings being ripped off.
These riots are petrifying and potentially deadly for many - for Muslim women there is an additional layer of vulnerability. Take the briefest look at the footage of masked, aggressive men (and some women) using violence and intimidation to further their cause and it is clear that this far-right violence is a deadly cocktail of toxic masculinity and outright racism stoked by the likes of Tommy Robinson and Andrew Tate, compounded by a systemic Islamophobia that has been normalised by our political establishment for decades.
If all Muslims face racism, then Muslim women face a specific, loaded type. Our hijabs are considered evidence of our failure to integrate or lack of Britishness. We are seen as un-feminist, backwards and oppressed. At the same time, we are also viewed as extreme and dangerous - like comments shared recently by Lord Pearson of Rannoch, a peer in the House of Lords, who accused Muslim 'radicals' of taking over through the 'power of the womb'. The result is that we are stigmatised by all sides and all this misogyny and Islamophobia falls, simultaneously, at the feet of Muslim women. And it puts us in danger - especially when things are as volatile as now.
My female Muslim friends are avoiding using public transport, leaving smaller towns to go and stay with family in larger cities where they feel more safety in numbers and even working from home or calling in sick to avoid having to commute at a time like this. I have stopped taking my son out in public because I can’t risk exposing him to any danger I might face. It feels like we are living on high alert; messages between family have become about making sure we are okay or soberly sharing the latest reports of violence erupting in the places we should be safe.
On one level, this feeling of peril is something I have become used to. Since I started to wear the hijab at the age of fifteen and experienced my small white Midlands hometown turn from a place of familiarity into a place of hostility just because I now had a covered head, I have known that being so visibly Muslim is not just controversial but actively dangerous.
Growing up a stone’s throw from the birthplace of the English Defence League, in a town nestled within the region currently engulfed by this wave of far-right hate, Islamophobia was always in the background. Graffiti on the halal butchers, racist murmurs from seemingly harmless old ladies, thinly-veiled Islamophobia from teachers and the parents of my friends.
I quickly learned that being a visibly Muslim woman in Britain means becoming used to avoiding standing too close to the train platform because we’ve all seen so many videos of hijab-wearing women being thrown on the tracks - or pre-empting the kind of Islamophobia we might face in the street or on the bus, at job interviews or at the airport because we’ve experienced it so many times. It’s second nature to avoid taking shortcuts that pass by areas where we know we’re not welcome or even to make ourselves more British to compensate for our ‘Muslim’ appearance.
But since my teenage years, Islamophobia in Britain has metastisised into something so normalised and so easily ignited that all you need is a fake Muslim-sounding name or far-right accounts spreading disinformation to provoke an entire wave of virulent brutality and aggression.
It feels different this time - and it is vital we look at how our political climate has led us to this point. Whether it’s tabloid media constantly bombarding us with headlines portraying Muslims as parasites and terrorists or the promotion of anti-immigrant rhetoric in our political discourse thanks to Brexit and Nigel Farage, the Rwanda plan or most recently the demonisation of Muslim voters as undemocratic for voicing their dismay at the main political parties - all of this has culminated in an environment today where Muslims are being attacked on the street and where visibly Muslim women especially wear this rhetoric as a target on our heads.
Yet, ironically, despite Muslim women often facing the brunt of Islamophobic violence, our voices are rarely listened to when we do speak out. Labour MP Zarah Sultana’s interview on Good Morning Britain today is a perfect example of how Muslim women are gaslit, ridiculed and belittled when we vocalise how Islamophobia impacts us - or when we criticise the state for failing to act to protect us.
So whilst this wave of far right destruction continues to engulf innocent communities, and whilst the government continues to use ambiguous language instead of calling it out for what it is, visibly Muslim women navigating violent misogyny and state-manufactured Islamophobia, all whilst having our voices dismissed, remain at heightened risk.