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I Refuse to Condemn: Resisting racism in times of national security
In times of heightened national security, scholars and activists from the communities under suspicion often attempt to alert the public to the more complex stories behind the headlines. But when they raise questions about the government, military and police policy, they are routinely shut down as terrorist sympathisers or apologists for gang culture. In such environments, there is immense pressure to condemn what society at large fears. This collection explains how the expectation to condemn has emerged, tracking it against the normalisation of racism, and explores how writers manage to subvert expectations as part of their commitment to anti-racism.
281 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 15, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
August 6, 2024
I Refuse to Condemn consists of 19 remarkable essays (including the brilliant introduction) by a diverse group of talented individuals who have been accosted publicly, privately, online and offline to condemn or justify heinous acts committed by an individual/minority, despite having nothing to do with said individual or group. Initially outlining the exhausting and challenging reality of being (visibly) Muslim, the writers effectively empower, validate and strengthen the (Muslim) reader.
What I found particularly notable in this work was the emphasis on how our (well-intentioned) swiftness in condemning every wicked act is not only unproductive, but utterly counterproductive. The act of condemnation has been reduced to an empty, apathetic performative exercise, and as one writer challenges, where do we draw the line? Is a sorrowful Facebook post or outraged Tweet sufficient? Or do we personally knock on our neighbours doors, get on our knees and atone for sins we did not commit?
The foul, discriminatory expectations burdened on the Brown, Black, British Muslim community are not only unfair and unjust, but demonstrate deep-rooted, explicit Islamophobia and racism.
Solely celebrating Brown, Black, British Muslims that “contribute” to society is also wholly counterproductive. Why are Muslim lives contingent on their economic/monetary output or contribution?
As Suhaiymah dares,
“Love us when we aren’t athletes, when we don’t bake cakes, when we don’t offer our homes, or free taxi rides after the event,
When we are wretched, suicidal, naked in contributing nothing.
Love us then.”
Not only do we refuse to condemn, we refuse to capitulate to a society that defines our worth and value on a discriminatory, conditional, case-by-case basis, and expects us to bend over backwards to educate the privileged and deliberately ignorant.
What I found particularly notable in this work was the emphasis on how our (well-intentioned) swiftness in condemning every wicked act is not only unproductive, but utterly counterproductive. The act of condemnation has been reduced to an empty, apathetic performative exercise, and as one writer challenges, where do we draw the line? Is a sorrowful Facebook post or outraged Tweet sufficient? Or do we personally knock on our neighbours doors, get on our knees and atone for sins we did not commit?
The foul, discriminatory expectations burdened on the Brown, Black, British Muslim community are not only unfair and unjust, but demonstrate deep-rooted, explicit Islamophobia and racism.
Solely celebrating Brown, Black, British Muslims that “contribute” to society is also wholly counterproductive. Why are Muslim lives contingent on their economic/monetary output or contribution?
As Suhaiymah dares,
“Love us when we aren’t athletes, when we don’t bake cakes, when we don’t offer our homes, or free taxi rides after the event,
When we are wretched, suicidal, naked in contributing nothing.
Love us then.”
Not only do we refuse to condemn, we refuse to capitulate to a society that defines our worth and value on a discriminatory, conditional, case-by-case basis, and expects us to bend over backwards to educate the privileged and deliberately ignorant.
December 23, 2020
I am only the editor to this collection of essays and so wrote the introduction to discuss the content, but I am very proud to associate myself with every single contribution, quite simply due to the level of brilliance throughout.
What these scholars and activists demonstrate, is the despite the narrow racialised boxes they are all caged in, whether within academia, by the media or even by 'liberal allies', they continue to resist in every single space they find themselves.
Simultaneously moving, powerful and thoughtful, the contributions provide a pathway to young activists to learn from the lived experience who walk the path of resistance. I really feel that this book will help many of those who struggle to speak and even exist, when systems of structural racism conspire to reduce them to a racialised threat that must condemn the violence of their own communities in order to be seen as human.
What these scholars and activists demonstrate, is the despite the narrow racialised boxes they are all caged in, whether within academia, by the media or even by 'liberal allies', they continue to resist in every single space they find themselves.
Simultaneously moving, powerful and thoughtful, the contributions provide a pathway to young activists to learn from the lived experience who walk the path of resistance. I really feel that this book will help many of those who struggle to speak and even exist, when systems of structural racism conspire to reduce them to a racialised threat that must condemn the violence of their own communities in order to be seen as human.
December 23, 2020
I Refuse To Condemn is an anthology of essays by academics, activists and artists from the global North who have at some point felt the pressure to perform condemnation for the simple reason that they are Muslim and/or Black. And let me just say off the bat, it is the most important book 2020 has produced.
As with any collection of essays the writing, perspectives, strengths and focus vary resulting in a powerful and timely book that is not only informative but also instructive and cathartic for those of us who know this pressure well.
It has been like no other reading experience this year not only because the themes were so personally familiar and the essays each so passionately and powerfully written but also because it made links to broader struggles that are a result of structural racism and the history that has delivered us to this moment, so making sense of the world around us and how we not only resist the call to condemn but flip the scrutiny and thereby the gaze back on those who make such demands in the first place.
Whilst every single essay had its own strengths, I have to say Asim Qureshi’s introduction along with Tarek Younis and Yassir Morsi’s chapters were my absolute favourite, steeped in their personal experience and a Muslim consciousness they were honest, raw and refreshingly self reflective. And Nadya Ali’s, Writing for The Kids took me back to when the Christchurch shootings happened. I was in a different city and wrote a long text to my kids filled with apologies, promises and reminders of their truths no matter what the noise around them may say. Nadya captured so much of my feelings in that moment. It took me time to read this book and time some more before I reviewed it because it is the kind of book that demands time, reflection, and introspection.
As with any collection of essays the writing, perspectives, strengths and focus vary resulting in a powerful and timely book that is not only informative but also instructive and cathartic for those of us who know this pressure well.
It has been like no other reading experience this year not only because the themes were so personally familiar and the essays each so passionately and powerfully written but also because it made links to broader struggles that are a result of structural racism and the history that has delivered us to this moment, so making sense of the world around us and how we not only resist the call to condemn but flip the scrutiny and thereby the gaze back on those who make such demands in the first place.
Whilst every single essay had its own strengths, I have to say Asim Qureshi’s introduction along with Tarek Younis and Yassir Morsi’s chapters were my absolute favourite, steeped in their personal experience and a Muslim consciousness they were honest, raw and refreshingly self reflective. And Nadya Ali’s, Writing for The Kids took me back to when the Christchurch shootings happened. I was in a different city and wrote a long text to my kids filled with apologies, promises and reminders of their truths no matter what the noise around them may say. Nadya captured so much of my feelings in that moment. It took me time to read this book and time some more before I reviewed it because it is the kind of book that demands time, reflection, and introspection.
October 16, 2025
"I Refuse to Condemn: Resisting Racism in Times of National Security" is an anthology of essays edited by @asimqcageint.
This is the book that we all needed immediately post-9/11; it is a book that we still need, and which masjid boards and Muslim politicians and "consultants" need to get clobbered over the head with repeatedly until they realize that our most effective approach is not to pander to the powers that be with weak, pathetic condemnations of "terrorism" and even more pathetic attempts at showing how "we're all the same!"
(Yes, I'm still livid at every Imam and Muslim who fell over themselves "condemning" Charlie Kirk's murder.)
From academics to artists and professionals, each writer in this book shares what led them to the refusal to condemn.
Tracing how useless (and in fact backfiring) these condemnations are, to the profound psychological impact of buying into the base assumptions of the security state and its propaganda, to acknowledging how difficult it is to constantly fight back - these essays are powerful and will resonate with every Muslim who has half a brain cell.
This book should be mandatory reading for every Muslim high schooler and college student, and - I repeat - for masjid boards and uncles who are convinced that apologetics and photo ops will benefit the Muslim community in any way.
This is the book that we all needed immediately post-9/11; it is a book that we still need, and which masjid boards and Muslim politicians and "consultants" need to get clobbered over the head with repeatedly until they realize that our most effective approach is not to pander to the powers that be with weak, pathetic condemnations of "terrorism" and even more pathetic attempts at showing how "we're all the same!"
(Yes, I'm still livid at every Imam and Muslim who fell over themselves "condemning" Charlie Kirk's murder.)
From academics to artists and professionals, each writer in this book shares what led them to the refusal to condemn.
Tracing how useless (and in fact backfiring) these condemnations are, to the profound psychological impact of buying into the base assumptions of the security state and its propaganda, to acknowledging how difficult it is to constantly fight back - these essays are powerful and will resonate with every Muslim who has half a brain cell.
This book should be mandatory reading for every Muslim high schooler and college student, and - I repeat - for masjid boards and uncles who are convinced that apologetics and photo ops will benefit the Muslim community in any way.
December 13, 2020
This is a collection of essays about resisting racism. It tackles the social pressure that marginalised communities face to condemn ‘their own’ whenever someone from the same group commits a crime or does something socially (not necessarily ethically/morally) unacceptable. The main focus was on Muslims being expected to condemn acts of terrorism.
This book is written for the people who are expected to condemn, not those we are expected to condemn to which was why it was so powerful. It was affirming, validating and above all: empowering. Reading this has confirmed for me why it felt so pointless and counterproductive when giving in to the pressure to condemn and how it in fact feeds into the narrative. Reading this has given me the confidence to refuse to condemn and know that my reasons for doing so are valid and important.
This book was the literary hug I needed after a year in which I’ve encountered particularly draining and at times traumatic conversations (about the police in relation to the BLM protests). It was not an easy read and at time it elevated my heart rate and made my breathing shallow as I relived certain experiences or saw the reality of suspicion and risk some of these contributors exposed themselves to (by refusing to condemn) or simply by existing as a Muslim/person of colour.
I was forced to bring to the forefront of my mind subjects that I sometimes choose not to think about out of self preservation. But here the subject was coming from the perspective that is rarely given space to breathe. Although it was emotionally taxing at times, I felt safe with the authors of these essays and there was comfort, hope and understanding in their words - meant for me and my fellow Muslims, and People of Colour.
Refusing to condemn means actively turning away from the easy option that sometimes feels like the only one available to maintain safety and well-being. Justice is never easy, resisting in its very nature means battling against the tide of the river and in this case the river is gushing.
In conclusion, please read this book.
This book is written for the people who are expected to condemn, not those we are expected to condemn to which was why it was so powerful. It was affirming, validating and above all: empowering. Reading this has confirmed for me why it felt so pointless and counterproductive when giving in to the pressure to condemn and how it in fact feeds into the narrative. Reading this has given me the confidence to refuse to condemn and know that my reasons for doing so are valid and important.
This book was the literary hug I needed after a year in which I’ve encountered particularly draining and at times traumatic conversations (about the police in relation to the BLM protests). It was not an easy read and at time it elevated my heart rate and made my breathing shallow as I relived certain experiences or saw the reality of suspicion and risk some of these contributors exposed themselves to (by refusing to condemn) or simply by existing as a Muslim/person of colour.
I was forced to bring to the forefront of my mind subjects that I sometimes choose not to think about out of self preservation. But here the subject was coming from the perspective that is rarely given space to breathe. Although it was emotionally taxing at times, I felt safe with the authors of these essays and there was comfort, hope and understanding in their words - meant for me and my fellow Muslims, and People of Colour.
Refusing to condemn means actively turning away from the easy option that sometimes feels like the only one available to maintain safety and well-being. Justice is never easy, resisting in its very nature means battling against the tide of the river and in this case the river is gushing.
In conclusion, please read this book.
December 7, 2021
4.5 ⭐
I finished this one in one day, and enjoyed it immensely. Learning about different reasons and experiences behind why these authors and activists refuse to condemn "Muslim terrorists" and what condemning means to them was incredibly refreshing and informative.
I finished this one in one day, and enjoyed it immensely. Learning about different reasons and experiences behind why these authors and activists refuse to condemn "Muslim terrorists" and what condemning means to them was incredibly refreshing and informative.
February 8, 2022
4.5
I enjoyed the book. Quite an insightful selection of essays by people who all seem to be involved in some form of activism.
While I generally don't find the essays of activists very interesting, these mostly were. Some of them hit closer to home (not in an emotional way) than others but they all said the same thing. Something I learnt from a wonderful man that I started to admire many years ago. El-Hajj Malik El-Shabbaz رحمه الله (Malcolm X). His words helped me shape my attitude in my late teens and it was his collection of speeches in By Any Means Necessary that taught me the importance of standing up for your rights and not give in to the pressure to condemn. If we must condemn, let us deal with those who have driven us to a position where we seem the only ones condemned.
So it was a welcome book for me. It reminded me of the era on Twitter when people would write "unapologetically Muslim" in their bio or often tweet it. It was a time when the environment was quite a bit more hostile but Muslims and non-Muslims were in closer circles and the Muslims chose to not condemn or take the blame of what happened online in those days. One particular person comes to mind.
But yh, some of the words in this should be taken with a pinch of salt and others should be written in gold. I'm sure most migrant people in the West who read this will feel something is relatable to their own lived experience in one way or another. Worth a read.
I enjoyed the book. Quite an insightful selection of essays by people who all seem to be involved in some form of activism.
While I generally don't find the essays of activists very interesting, these mostly were. Some of them hit closer to home (not in an emotional way) than others but they all said the same thing. Something I learnt from a wonderful man that I started to admire many years ago. El-Hajj Malik El-Shabbaz رحمه الله (Malcolm X). His words helped me shape my attitude in my late teens and it was his collection of speeches in By Any Means Necessary that taught me the importance of standing up for your rights and not give in to the pressure to condemn. If we must condemn, let us deal with those who have driven us to a position where we seem the only ones condemned.
So it was a welcome book for me. It reminded me of the era on Twitter when people would write "unapologetically Muslim" in their bio or often tweet it. It was a time when the environment was quite a bit more hostile but Muslims and non-Muslims were in closer circles and the Muslims chose to not condemn or take the blame of what happened online in those days. One particular person comes to mind.
But yh, some of the words in this should be taken with a pinch of salt and others should be written in gold. I'm sure most migrant people in the West who read this will feel something is relatable to their own lived experience in one way or another. Worth a read.
December 11, 2020
I think this book may have changed my life. Incredible and empowering. Detailed review to come once I have gathered my thoughts on this fulfilling, pivotal experience.
June 27, 2021
There is a long and notable history of political violence by non-state bodies – so much so that Aristotle incudes a discussion of tyrannicide in his Politics. A marked change has been that in recent years we have seen the emergence of an expectation that public figures, and others, from the communities that those actors committing those acts of violence are drawn are routinely expected to condemn that violence. This expectation is almost only limited to members of marginalised and racialized communities – which in the contemporary world means Muslims, especially those who are obviously and visually marked. This expectation has then taken on an especially insidious form in the UK with a statutory requirement for people working in a whole array of areas – including health & education – to report people deemed to be ‘at risk of radicalisation’, with a clear focus on Muslims and people of colour. This approach has recently been picked up in other jurisdictions also.
This fabulous collection of essays explores what it means to expected to condemn, to refuse to condemn and to live in that world of heightened and intensified ubiquitous surveillance. They do so in powerful, sharp, insightful ways – and in ways that unsettle in that remind me of the ways my experience as White, middle class, middle aged chap in an overwhelmingly White part of the country is different from many people of colour, and especially those who are ‘visibly Muslim’. They also unsettle in ways that expose the insidiousness of surveillance. Shafiuddean Chaudry’s essay unpacking of the workings of the algorithms that led to his ‘random selection’ for extra security checks at the airport, or Lowkey’s discussion of the questions asked and conversations had with border staff that seemed to be shaped to populate those algorithms are both reminders of pervasive surveillance.
Others take us into much more personalised experiences of that expectation: Shereen Fernandez and Azeezat Johnson write powerfully about the demands placed on them by academia, Sadia Habib’s letter to a ‘friend’ on being the racialized ‘go-to Muslim’ is a pointed observation on disempowerment being expected to answer but being unable to initiate discussion while Hoda Katebi shows the potency of ‘not sounding like an American’ because of what she says. I really liked Tarek Younis’ engagement with the problematic politics of recognition and the need not to be seen – but to see, and Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan’s piece on only being seen in particular, silencing ways. There are 19 essays, all vital, all essential; others I sure will draw out other highpoints.
These essays then provide a rich insight to the everyday, exhausting world of being continually expected to condemn, of being continually marked as one who should be expected to condemn and the costs of being in that world. It’s an excoriation of being, as Saffa Mir labels it ‘guilty without a crime but also of hope, as Nadya Ali write in her letter to her nieces and nephews of the difference between those who fight for what they love and those who seek to dominate and oppress. Rich, powerful, essential.
This fabulous collection of essays explores what it means to expected to condemn, to refuse to condemn and to live in that world of heightened and intensified ubiquitous surveillance. They do so in powerful, sharp, insightful ways – and in ways that unsettle in that remind me of the ways my experience as White, middle class, middle aged chap in an overwhelmingly White part of the country is different from many people of colour, and especially those who are ‘visibly Muslim’. They also unsettle in ways that expose the insidiousness of surveillance. Shafiuddean Chaudry’s essay unpacking of the workings of the algorithms that led to his ‘random selection’ for extra security checks at the airport, or Lowkey’s discussion of the questions asked and conversations had with border staff that seemed to be shaped to populate those algorithms are both reminders of pervasive surveillance.
Others take us into much more personalised experiences of that expectation: Shereen Fernandez and Azeezat Johnson write powerfully about the demands placed on them by academia, Sadia Habib’s letter to a ‘friend’ on being the racialized ‘go-to Muslim’ is a pointed observation on disempowerment being expected to answer but being unable to initiate discussion while Hoda Katebi shows the potency of ‘not sounding like an American’ because of what she says. I really liked Tarek Younis’ engagement with the problematic politics of recognition and the need not to be seen – but to see, and Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan’s piece on only being seen in particular, silencing ways. There are 19 essays, all vital, all essential; others I sure will draw out other highpoints.
These essays then provide a rich insight to the everyday, exhausting world of being continually expected to condemn, of being continually marked as one who should be expected to condemn and the costs of being in that world. It’s an excoriation of being, as Saffa Mir labels it ‘guilty without a crime but also of hope, as Nadya Ali write in her letter to her nieces and nephews of the difference between those who fight for what they love and those who seek to dominate and oppress. Rich, powerful, essential.
February 28, 2021
A fantastic compendium of essays written by a host of talented individuals who at some point in their careers succumbed to condemnation for simply belonging to a certain religion or ethnicity. This book is empowering in its entirety. It eludicates why it is counterproductive to condemn when you are expected to-do-so and in-doing-so you're only feeding into the false narrative. Condemnation has been reduced to an impassive exercise. This book tells me that we need to build our own narrative. We need not to succumb to the social convention. We need to build our own worth.
January 7, 2021
This book provides insight into the workings and impact of racism in national security policies and discourse with specific focus on Muslims in the context of the "War on Terror". It is divided into four broad sections focusing on the history of these policies and attitudes, and three different areas of impact and resistance: structural, personal and performative. Within these sections, some writers choose to focus more on the detailed workings of the system, others on its psychological and emotional effects and others on the spiritual impacts and response. I think the strength of this book is in the variety of perspectives offered by the different contributors and the fact that they all have intimate experience of the topic through their professional life, social work and/or research.
In the interest of clarity, I gave it 4 stars rather than 5 because I had hoped that since it was by Muslims for Muslims (in my understanding but maybe I'm mistaken), it might go a bit further in terms of questioning how we can move forward using frameworks rooted more explicitly in a Muslim consciousness. I realise that this may be influenced by my own perspective and expectations (as most reading experiences are).
However, I don't want this to suggest that this book is anything less than a valuable contribution to discussion around the topic at hand: a rigorous and sincere work by the editor, Asim Qureshi, and the contributors. It is also quite ground-breaking in its specific focus on the Muslim experience of national security policies, which particularly in academic circles is often written about by non-Muslim scholars.
I was provided with an advanced review copy of this book by the publisher with no conditions.
In the interest of clarity, I gave it 4 stars rather than 5 because I had hoped that since it was by Muslims for Muslims (in my understanding but maybe I'm mistaken), it might go a bit further in terms of questioning how we can move forward using frameworks rooted more explicitly in a Muslim consciousness. I realise that this may be influenced by my own perspective and expectations (as most reading experiences are).
However, I don't want this to suggest that this book is anything less than a valuable contribution to discussion around the topic at hand: a rigorous and sincere work by the editor, Asim Qureshi, and the contributors. It is also quite ground-breaking in its specific focus on the Muslim experience of national security policies, which particularly in academic circles is often written about by non-Muslim scholars.
I was provided with an advanced review copy of this book by the publisher with no conditions.
June 27, 2021
When you've spent a lifetime resisting societal pressures to become another Uncle Tom, whether you've realised it or not, this book helps to articulate the lived experience of so many British Muslims, regardless of how 'Muslim' they are. I appreciated the diversity of authors who collaborated on this subject and the courage with which they all spoke their truths without being pitted against one another as is often the case. The accounts hang well together and the book does not detract from the core message that needed to be conveyed: We refuse to condemn. Thank you to Manchester University Press for publishing this and for promptly sending me another copy of the book when my first order went missing in the post.
March 12, 2021
This was beautiful in every way. I feel so seen and I’ve felt so much love throughout this book. This book is a gift and I’m so so thankful for its existence. It’s rare that I feel inspired by something external but this truly helps me feel like I should be more active in my everyday life. I cannot thank everyone involved in this book enough. I’ve highlighted so much in this book and noted many thoughts and reactions while reading 😂 this is definitely one of my favorite books ever. I’m kind of in awe that this book managed to be published to be honest 😳 I love it so much. It’s definitely reaffirmed a lot of things and also given me much to think about. Alhamdulillah for everything
August 22, 2023
Rereading for my dissertation and I forgot how sick this book was 5 stars!!!!!!
“If you have to fight, it means you are not a citizen, and your status within the nation-state is contingent upon expressing never ending gratefulness”
“If you have to fight, it means you are not a citizen, and your status within the nation-state is contingent upon expressing never ending gratefulness”
December 24, 2020
Outstanding work will written lot of home ture, injoy read this book, I very much hope you write another book and looking forward to reading you works.
January 2, 2021
Real. Empowering. Imperative. Sometimes, one needs to pry their hands away from covering their ears and face the realities of society. Absolute energy this book is.
March 8, 2021
A powerful collection of essays. I’ve definitely learnt a lot reading this book & would recommend it to anyone.
September 4, 2022
I think, for me personally, this book represented a classic case of preaching to the converted. Some of the essays were fantastic, but others left me yearning for more insight - I was already fully aware that the UK media is a toxic cancer that spurs racism at every opportunity.
December 24, 2023
This book is a must-read for everyone is all I have got to say.
October 7, 2023
I read this book for a book club, and I really liked it.
It's a collection of essays by a diverse group of Muslims about how they work(ed) through hostile environments and learn(ed) to navigate a profoundly Islamophobic context that perceives Muslims as a constant threat and anomaly. The book doesn't propose a one-size fits-all solution, but there are definitely some takeaways if you read all the stories and look for the lessons in them. One of those lessons, and my favorite thing about the book, is being unapologetically Muslim. You can feel how the authors aren't writing for the White gaze but are writing for their fellow Muslims and the generations to come. Their writing is therefore honest, blunt, loving, and inspiring. Would recommend!
It's a collection of essays by a diverse group of Muslims about how they work(ed) through hostile environments and learn(ed) to navigate a profoundly Islamophobic context that perceives Muslims as a constant threat and anomaly. The book doesn't propose a one-size fits-all solution, but there are definitely some takeaways if you read all the stories and look for the lessons in them. One of those lessons, and my favorite thing about the book, is being unapologetically Muslim. You can feel how the authors aren't writing for the White gaze but are writing for their fellow Muslims and the generations to come. Their writing is therefore honest, blunt, loving, and inspiring. Would recommend!
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews