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As a sabbatical officer, I try to present a nuanced view on the issues that I advocate for, based not only on my own experience, but the experience of many students at LSE. But in this case, it is my personal experiences that informs me on why Islamophobia Awareness Month matters.

As many of you know, I was raised in Canada, in a small town known as St. John’s, Newfoundland. Though the population was predominantly white and of Irish descent, it became a home for my parents. Despite a large portion of the population never engaging with Muslims (or for that matter, knowing what one was), Newfoundlanders were widely hospitable to my family and respected their differences. 

My experience growing up in Canada was similar. All my friends were white, and I was the token ‘brown kid’, but had my differences excused because of such. At fourteen, I had a four-year-old from a rural area of Newfoundland marvel at my skin and touch it, because he had never seen someone with darker pigmentation before. I would volunteer the information that I was a Muslim, and consider it an opportunity to educate someone who had never interacted with one before, to correct misconceptions. But never did I feel threatened by this ignorance, because I widely understood that in many cases, ignorance is not an active choice. Newfoundland and my upbringing reinforced this idea.

Therefore, when I engaged with occurrences of Islamophobia, I was of course morally opposed, but often considered context. I believe very few LSE students outright support instances of Islamophobia - but try to mitigate their outrage with context. Perhaps it is anti-immigration sentiments manifesting themselves, areas with high rates of unemployment, frustration with other socio-economic issues manifesting themselves against a minority group. While still in no way acceptable, it was understandable.

My views and tolerance of this shifted when I had moved to Copenhagen for work. Much like I had become accustomed to doing, I excused remarks of ‘send them back to where they came from’ to strains on the Danish welfare system, the frequent racist remarks to the fact that Denmark is one of the most ethnically homogenous countries in the world. I often considered context, using it as a crutch and excuse for less-than-upstanding behaviour that I witnessed and experienced. 

But one day I was in a restaurant with a group of friends, who had invited a couple of their friends. I introduced myself to one, and I got a stare, no courtesy of a name. Looking me up and down, 

“Where are you from?”

“Canada.”

“Where are your parents from?”

“Egypt. But I’ve lived my whole life in Canada and–”

“Are you Muslim?”

“….yeah.”

“So, do you pray to Allah and shit?”

“…guess so.”

For the first time, at the late age of 23, I had a ‘Muslim’ bullseye painted in the middle of my forehead, and this entitled stranger was staring right at it. I had done nothing to warrant the interrogation, but yet there I stood, in a group of my friends, extremely uneasy by his tone of voice and intention to ‘uncover’ my status as a Muslim. Information that I once felt comfortable volunteering, I felt that I needed to safeguard, and worried about the implications of what would happen now that he knew that I was a Muslim. 

I took a cab home that evening, spending too much money because I was too worried to walk home or get the bus. In that moment, I didn’t care about context - I didn’t care that he had just served in Afghanistan, or that he likely was misguided in his desire to call me out in public for my religious beliefs. All I cared about was the fear that I was suddenly put in, mind racing at the consequences of being ‘discovered’ as a Muslim.

When discussing instances and attacks of Islamophobia, dismissing it to context is insufficient. Saying that ignorance is a sufficient reason to actively harm someone else is insufficient. Islamophobia Awareness Month, to me, is about the recognition that Muslims will have the fear that I had instilled in me, irrespective of why it happens. And that’s why Islamophobia Awareness Month still is relevant.

So what if I’m Muslim? Why should I be afraid?   

Riham Mansour, LSESU Community and Welfare Officer

LSESU LGBT+ Pride Week is an annual, week-long event dedicated to celebrating the diversity of the LGBT+ community, and educating the LSE student body about our lived experiences. These include issues such as homophobia, transphobia, and sexual prejudice.

This year it ran from the 21st to the 25th of November, and was jam packed with amazing events, fun socials, and thought-provoking conversations. It’s impossible to choose our favourite things, so here’re five favourites, chosen by some members of the community.

1. The Trans* Roundtable: “the comfortable sharing of thoughts and feelings by trans and non-binary individuals that normally aren’t allowed anywhere near the surface of expression was truly eye-opening and bonding”

2. “It was amazing to see the Faith Centre and Christian Student Movement so keen to get involved and engage queer students of faith. We particularly adored the “Love is…” board where students could come and write what love meant to them (even if to one person that meant “pizza”!)”

3. “Witnessing the LSE Student Body react so positively and open-mindedly to our stall throughout the week, taking part in our stall games and activities, and asking truly insightful questions which allowed us to share our lived experiences with those who might not have had the chance to think about them before”

4. Gender Expression event: “the poems, songs, and spoken word which reflected our personal and broader experiences of having LGBT+ as part of our identities. The right to talk freely about these aspects of our lives are hard won – and remain an ongoing global battle, even in the most progressive of societies. This struggle shone through in all its painful beauty at this event, with performers sharing incredibly raw and honest tales of coming out, falling in love, sexual encounters, alienation from loved ones, and hope for the future”

5. “Above anything else, a highlight was getting to spend a whole week in the company of such an incredible community. The LSE SU LGBT+ Pride Week allowed us to come together and truly learn about one another. It was a genuine honour to share in the intimacies of the events, and the feelings will stay with us, we’re sure, for the rest of our lives”

Last weekend, James Disney-May, LSE Gold Sports Ambassador competed at the British Universities and Colleges Sport (BUCS) 2016 Short Course Swimming Championships, in Sheffield. 

James won a silver medal in the 100m freestyle final, as well as reaching the final in the 50m freestyle final from a pool of around 400 swimmers. He eventually finished 5th overall. 

It was the first time James has competed in BUCS, having completed his undergraduate degree in the USA. 

He said: ‘Overall it was an enjoyable event with a large amount of competitors and some fast swimmers. I haven’t trained or raced in the last 7 months, so I was pleasantly surprised with my results this weekend and enjoyed racing again.’

James started swimming competitively when he was about 8 years old. When swimming went from something he enjoyed at school, to a competitive pursuit, he joined his local swimming club. From there he went on to attend Millfield School, on a swimming scholarship. After leaving Millfield, James won a swimming scholarship to Auburn University in Alabama. 

Before joining LSE, James had already experienced incredible success: ‘My most notable achievements are representing Great Britain in the London 2012 Olympics and also getting a gold and bronze medal at the 2014 Commonwealth Games.’

Well done James!