What else could it be?

I have a few questions.

Since last October, we’ve been outraged. We’ve seen videos of children being starved, thirsted, amputated, and burned alive. Through social media, we’ve witnessed the psychological impact of watching death happen and being helpless. I’ve been anxious. I’ve been terrified of Instagram. I’ve disassociated from the world as I stand in a store, scrolling through websites to make sure my purchase doesn’t accidentally fund it. I can’t not think about it. Can you relate?

Okay. Now:

I want you to think about that Shia friend who slits his scalp open with a sword annually (Maynoon?). And about your friend who volunteers to cut onions in a Husseiniya for ten days straight (lol, right?). Or the friend who doesn’t wash the muddy imprint of a palm on her car for a whole month (shda3wa?). And how about the friend who stops listening to music for all of Muharram (chinna ma 3indaha salfa).

What stood out to you: the comments in brackets? If so, what does that tell you about yourself?

Is it propaganda? I say yes, because if you’ve never sought to understand a community at your fingertips. It’s okay. Subtle distaste is easier. Where did you get those ideas about the practices above? Set aside your outrage at having to reeducate yourself, especially because you don’t have to. Clear your mind. Step out of your perspective. Engage the rational you. You’re going to imagine something. Let’s call it an alternate reality.

You’re seven. You’re in a black T-shirt. You’re with your mother. There are so many people around you. You go to a place that reminds you of your grandmother’s funeral. Everyone’s in black, even the walls are black. And everyone looks like they’ve lost someone they love. 

A guy starts telling a story, and your mother begins to cry. You whisper in her ear, “Mama, who died?”

“Listen to the story, habeebti.”

You listen. It’s confusing. But you start to put things together; it’s about Ahl Al-Bayt. They’re the prophet’s family (PBUH).

Recently in school, you learned he was so pure he could talk to angels!

You’re intrigued—Wait, someone killed his family? But Allah loves him!

“Mama, is this the same Prophet Ms. Abrar taught me about?”

“Ee.” She says. And you put more together. It was a power struggle involving kids and adults. You watch her cry, but you have so many questions. “Mama, they had tents in the desert?”

“Ee.” She wraps her head under her abaya.

“But…” You tap her shoulder, and she slides the abaya off. “Mama, didn’t you say we can’t do a kashta in the summer because it’s too hot?”

She smiles through her tears, kisses you on the forehead. “Ee, habeebty.”

“But Mama, was it like Kuwait? Was it summer? This hot?”

“It’s hard to say, but yeah, probably.”

“And they didn’t have water?” You can see this specific question broke her heart. “They didn’t, no.” 

You turn to the screen to watch the man telling the story. You see it happening in your mind. It hurts. Like the time you cried when your cousin broke her leg, and you saw her pain.

Human brains process stories as if they’re the ones going through the experience. Ever shed a tear while watching a movie or reading a book? So that 7-year-old feels bad in a similar way that adult you feels horrible about the Palestinian genocide. It is the story that gets us. Our brains process stories like they’re reality. It is how humans protected themselves from making mistakes that could get them killed. It is why Instagram’s been hard. Makes sense, right?

So if it’s how our brains work, what can alter an instinctive response to a story?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying a current genocide we’re witnessing and historical religious stories are the same thing. I’m merely drawing parallels to make a point: Why can’t you react to the Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) grandchildren’s stories in the same way? How has this instinct been indoctrinated out of you and why?

I’ve been reading people’s reactions to Kuwait ensuring the safety of the Shia minority this Muharram, and it’s just hate, hate, hate. And I’m trying to make sense of it. Have you checked in with yourself about this?

I’m just saying think about it: How would it impact a child, say a 7-year-old who is just beginning to identify as Muslim, as belonging to a specific faction? The one that believes the people who were tasked with spreading the Prophet’s (PBUH) message were his family. A girl who hears stories about their childhood, their kindness. And it grows the soft spot in her heart for the Prophet (PBUH) to include them. She learns they were killed. It makes her sad. It’s human. That’s all it is. Otherwise, Muslims practice the same stuff.

Then envision that girl in her Islamic Studies class, as the topic of Muslim sects comes up. She raises her hand to profess she’s Shia. The moment passes. Later, at recess, her best friend, let’s call her Muneera, is being weird. “What’s wrong?” And she pulls a face and asks if you hit yourself. And before you can answer she asks, “Do you eat dirty food?” 

You lie: “No, I don’t hit myself. But, Husseiniya food is just machboos. It’s like the homemade one.”

Muneera says her mother says Shia are crazy. “But since you don’t hit yourself, we can be friends.” Innocent words from a childhood friend can teach someone an important lesson about their social world. Especially if it’s something deep, like: You only belong here if…

It’s hard to go against a lifetime of social propaganda. Check in with yourself now. Are you uncomfortable?

Am I saying swords to heads is fine? I practice being Shia in my own way. I believe there is a psychological detriment to constantly putting myself in fight-or-flight, and I choose not to. But this isn’t about my opinion. It’s about wanting to exist in my country. It’s about a yearning for belonging and acceptance. It’s about my children’s right to practice however they decide. It’s about my right to feel safe if I choose to go to a Husseiniya.

A.k.a., teaching a subtle disregard for religious practices can grow into systematic problems, such as needing to allocate an entire police task force to protect a significant portion of your population from hate crimes annually.

Right?