Let me begin by saying that I am a huge fan of satire. I think it is an important social and political tool. The satirical news show The Colbert Report was, and still is, one of my favourite TV programmes in the world. There is no better way to consume depressing news than by cloaking it in a heavy coat of ridicule to expose and shame an individual, ideology, corporation, government or society into improving itself.
But I also believe that satire is only effective and necessary when it puts forth a true and intelligent point and isn’t provocative just for the sake of provocation.
The problem I have in the aftermath of Paris is the feeling that you had to jump on the “Je Suis Charlie” bandwagon to prove that you condemned the attacks – as if being offended by the cartoon and being against senseless murder were mutually exclusive.
But here is the thing, I do not care what people draw, print or say. Over the years I have developed very thick skin, but I do believe that the media has a fundamental responsibility to be aware of existing social hierarchies, voiceless minorities, colonial legacies and foreign policies.
This, of course, does not justify any sort of retaliation, but I am not Charlie. I am a Muslim woman who spent my early years living in Paris (and then in the US) and experienced various levels of Islamophobic and anti-immigrant sentiments.
I can only begin to imagine the full extent of the Muslim immigrant experience in Paris, but as far as my experiences went in both France and in parts of the United States there were times when I felt stigmatised and marginalised. I was just supposed to accept the dirty looks and verbal abuse as some kind of natural product of the political climate.
If freedom of expression is truly limitless then is it not hypocritical if we get to pick and choose what form of extreme speech we allow? Islamophobic views have been allowed for far too long in the American mainstream media. Viewers are constantly being told that Muslim immigration is a scary menace and that there are fundamental incompatibilities between Islam and this mythical Judeo-Christian heritage of the West.
The fact that these transparently bigoted statements can be freely expressed by news outlets, politicians and public figures, and are not reserved just for heinous racist people is a real problem. It makes me viscerally uneasy that I cannot simply mourn those who were senselessly slain and I have to remind everyone that “I am equivocally and adamantly against any form of violence”. As if asking whether I secretly harbour radical sympathies based on my ethnicity or religion is not as absurd as me asking a random German if they were sympathetic to the Nazis.
There is a real danger in this “us versus them thinking”, not just because it may result in a backlash but because I find it counterproductive to place both the blame and the burden to prevent these issues on just Muslims. I think that to end cycles of retaliatory violence, communities need to work together. Education and integration are the only way to get rid of this constructed dichotomy.
As someone who has been blessed with friends from all walks of life, in terms of racial, religious and socioeconomic backgrounds, I believe that harmonious coexistence is more than achievable, and not just a naive dream. For every ignorant hateful comment I have received from someone of a particular race or religion or nationality, I have plenty of examples of loving and supportive counterparts.
We just have to actively refuse to let extremists on both ends of the spectrum use us as pawns in their game. As the poem by British novelist Rudyard Kipling says: “All good people agree, And all good people say, All nice people, like Us, are We, And every one else is They: But if you cross over the sea, Instead of over the way, You may end by (think of it!) looking on We, As only a sort of They!”.
Fatima Al Shamsi is a globetrotting Emirati foodie, film buff and football fanatic
