When I came to campus on September 12th, I was in pretty bad spirits. Horror, sorrow, and anger over the preceding day’s events all swelled and swirled about in me. As I tried to resume my normal routine, I found myself near to tears now that I had moved away from the TV and radio newscasts and had some quiet moments for reflection. While most people I spoke to about it were similarly deflated, I do recall encountering something on campus that, for me, added insult to injury. As I approached Mallinckrodt Center, I saw a sign written in chalk on the ground that simply said, “Don’t blame Islam for Bin Laden!” The reason I found these words so offensive was that they didn’t include any words of regret for the thousands of people who had been murdered the previous day.
My natural intuition was to presume that it was followers of Islam who had written this. From my anguished perspective, it seemed to me that these writers were being extraordinarily selfish. Simply put, they didn’t show any sympathy for people who were in mourning, but rather were only concerned with doing something to cover their own rears now that many Americans would likely be prejudicially enraged against Muslims. But regardless of who wrote those words and whatever their real intentions, their immediate impact on me, and perhaps many others as well, wasn’t exactly to endear the Islamic faith to the heart.
A more persuasive and effective slogan might have been something like, “People of Islam, Unite against the mass-murderer Bin Laden!” Such an expression of sympathy that took place in another walk of life has left a lasting impression on me. This took place in 1990, during a college basketball playoff game between Loyola Marymount and Michigan. Loyola’s team was still in grief over the recent death of their star player, Hank Gathers, during a game. Using basketball as an outlet for their anguish, however, they dominated the heavily-favored Michigan team (the defending national champions, no less) and won by over 30 points.
What most impressed me, however, was the action of a Michigan player. A photograph at the time showed a Loyola player jeering in the face of Michigan’s star Reumeal Robinson, vigorously taunting him because Loyola’s lead in the contest had become insurmountable. Robinson’s reaction was simply to divert his eyes from the player’s direction and walk away. To me, it seemed like Robinson was saying to himself, “All right, I don’t like being taunted anymore than I like losing, but if it helps them cope with their real-life tragedy, then I need to let them do it.”
Alternatively, Robinson could have answered those jeers by saying to the player, “Hey, it wasn’t my fault that Gathers died, so don’t vent your anger on me.” Certainly, this would be a true statement, as it really wasn’t fair that he was being verbally assaulted for a tragedy he had nothing to do with. But what was more important was that Robinson showed some genuine concern for someone who really needed it at that moment. This was a little act of courage on Robinson’s part perhaps, but a memorable one. On the other hand, those words I saw written outside of Mallinckrodt seem more like the self-centered ones I suggest Robinson could have used instead. So, in short, a better approach to dealing with such prejudice as that which some Americans are showing towards Muslims may be a pro-active one. The louder their voice in denouncing terrorism, the less readily they are to be negatively stereotyped.