Quotes from this interview have been edited for clarity and readability.
Listen to this article:
Islamophobia continues to rise in Canada. Reported hate crimes against Muslims went up by 94% between 2022-2023, contributing to an increase in reported hate crimes in the country in the last six years. However, only 20% of hate crimes in Canada are officially reported. Many Muslims in British Columbia face Islamophobia and similar acts of discrimination in schools, workplaces, and public spaces, dealing with biases and misunderstandings about their community.
But fighting against Islamophobia is not just about enduring harm in silence. It is about being active, hopeful, and connected to faith, joy, and community support. While issues of visibility and safety have been explored throughout this series, Spheres of Influence reached out to Mostafa Ramadan, who is a second-generation Egyptian-Canadian university student; Sabah Ghouse, who is the Program Coordinator for the Islamophobia Legal Assistance Hotline; and Selma Babiker, a second-generation Sudanese-Canadian university student, to hear how they have navigated and resisted Islamophobia.
Acts of Resistance
Have you ever felt tension between being visible as a Muslim and feeling safe, especially in public or professional environments? How do you navigate that?
Mostafa: In high school, I felt the effects of Islamophobia the hardest. I was constantly being targeted by my school administration and constable. I was falsely accused of and punished for various acts, I was pulled out of classes and harassed by the police in the office for suspicion, and I was told by my own vice principal that she thought I was a terrorist threat.
Additionally, I was told by the police that they would have surrounded me with guns if they had ‘caught’ me earlier. I was 16 years old then, and I feared for my safety at school because I did not feel that I was given the same courtesy as a regular high school kid. By that age, I was being treated as if I were a threat to the school, and I had to constantly look over my shoulder in fear of being suspended or expelled over a negligible situation… I decided the best way to handle it was to simply ignore it and pretend like I was a normal student.
I see that Muslim men and women do struggle with different aspects of Islamophobia. For women, it revolves more around their status as a visible minority, like wearing the hijab, being the target of ridicule, and harassment by others. For men, it revolves around being seen as a constant threat, like increased suspicion, random security checks, and harassment by authorities.
Sabah: As a visibly Muslim woman who wears the hijab, there are moments when I, too, fear for my safety in public spaces. These feelings particularly intensify after attacks against the Muslim community in Canada and abroad. Spaces that were considered havens are threatened, and mundane tasks, such as going for an evening walk with your family, are no longer deemed safe. Before leaving for school or work, my family, worried for my safety, advised me to be hyper vigilant of my surroundings, not to wear my headphones, to travel with friends, and to avoid staying out too late. These warnings, which may seem optional, were necessary for our protection—for our survival.
However, we continue to exist and resist. We continue to fill the rows in our mosques and take up spaces in places purposefully designed to violently suppress us. I am also privileged to work at the Islamophobia Legal Assistance Hotline to provide educational opportunities that challenge Islamophobia, provide legal assistance, create community spaces for Muslims, and help those impacted by Islamophobia feel heard.
Selma: My social identities are only a fraction of who I am; yet, I often find myself being singled out or not taken seriously enough because of what people think they know about me. However, I truly believe that whether I am working as the only Hijabi in the room or praying in a quiet corner of a bustling mall, no one can take away the expertise, passion, and happiness I bring into this world. I also view this through a spiritual lens. Muslims believe that Allah (God) does not place a person through more than they can bear. The fact that I was placed here, in BC, as a Black Muslim woman, is a testament to my strength and resilience.
Was there a specific moment when you felt truly seen, respected, or valued as a Muslim in BC? What made it significant?
Mostafa: I do not recall a time when I felt explicitly celebrated as a Muslim. But I do appreciate spaces where the Muslim identity is simply respected and given courtesy. At my old job, or at Urban Revision, we are given time and space to pray, or offered support for fasting during Ramadan. These moments are meaningful because they provide us with a space where we do not feel that we must engage in a spiritual battle just to exist.
Sabah: When I presented my research on the experiences of Muslim girls and women in schools, I was nervous about whether my findings were novel or complex enough to be presented to the research community. However, individuals expressed that they valued my experience, and we were excited to have the voices of Muslim women amplified. Those who were unfamiliar with the topic showed great interest and wanted to learn more about the topic, demonstrating how there is a lot of work to be done around Muslim Studies and Islamophobia in Canada.
Selma: My university was hosting a creative night where about 40 people showed up. I decided to perform a spoken word piece about the complexities and intersections of Black hair—often politicized and ridiculed—and the hijab, which faces many of the same struggles. It was a big deal for me as I only recently started wearing the hijab. Since then, I found myself retreating more into my shell, despite being naturally very extroverted. Performing meant being raw and real in front of a group of strangers and expressing the turmoil I had recently gone through. Yet, the poem turned out to be a huge success. I remember looking into the audience and seeing their faces—they were truly engaged…It was liberating to be heard, to feel seen, and to turn my lived experience into something that opened hearts and started conversations.
How does joy play a role in your life? Do you see it as a form of resistance or healing?
Mostafa: Joy through faith and community plays a big role in my life… Coming together with other Muslims through community events, Ramadan, or at the mosque is paramount and is highly recommended in our religion as community and family ties are emphasized. I find this to be both a source of healing and resistance.
Selma: Growing up in Canada, I often put my culture as an afterthought. I wanted to blend in, which sometimes meant leaving parts of my culture behind. As I have grown older, I have realized that practicing my culture, especially during a time of genocide in Sudan, is a form of resistance both for me and for my people. Meeting with Sudanese communities amidst the war, sharing our stories, and celebrating our culture has been deeply empowering. Embracing Sudanese music, art, poetry, and shows has taught me that I do not need to hide any part of my identity to belong here… Being able to proudly say I am Sudanese and share the beautiful intersections of faith and culture, and being able to express that through my hijab, has been so incredibly healing. To say and show that is something I never thought my younger self could do.
Everyday Coping and Collective Care
What does “coping” with Islamophobia look like for you in everyday life here in BC—emotionally, socially, or spiritually? How does the local environment shape that experience?
Mostafa: For me, I approach it from a spiritual perspective… However, when I encounter islamophobia personally or online, it only strengthens my faith. I view hostility and animosity towards Muslims as a test, one that confirms my conviction that I am doing the right thing.
Selma: As a visibly Muslim Black woman, I have had to navigate both racism and Islamophobia, often without fully realizing it in the moment… When it is blatant and impossible to ignore, I still find myself holding back. I feel like I cannot react, because any reaction risks reinforcing the same harmful stereotypes placed on people who look like me. It is a constant balancing act that often leaves me feeling trapped. I feel caught between wanting to stand up for myself and needing to protect how my identity is perceived. Coping is remaining quiet, even when I do not want to.
Where do you find support or healing when you need to feel safe and understood? Are those spaces easily accessible here in BC?
Sabah: Joining Muslim organizations, such as the Muslim Students Association, allowed me to connect with individuals who have similar experiences to me and be part of a community. In recent years, there has been a growing number of spaces that are accessible to Muslims from various backgrounds. However, Muslims with disabilities may not be able to join spaces where there are no accommodations made for them. The Muslim community should be cognizant when creating spaces for Muslims to prevent excluding certain communities.
Selma: Oftentimes, it can be really hard to find spaces that are truly accommodating, especially in BC. I often feel like I do not fully fit in anywhere. Prejudice toward Black people can be rampant within Muslim communities, and in Black spaces, I sometimes feel left out as a Muslim. Finding support and healing comes through small, genuine pockets of community. It is meeting people who listen, understand, and respect what I go through; the warmth of people at the masjid who are welcoming and kind; the friends who reach out just to check in; and the event organizers who make sure the food is halal. That, to me, is what healing and community look like.
Hope, Demands, and Imagining Otherwise
Looking ahead, what hopes or dreams do you hold for yourself and your community beyond just surviving Islamophobia?
Mostafa: Looking ahead, I hope to see an environment where Muslims feel free to assume their identities without fear of harassment, repression, or suspicion. Although online hate will always exist, it is important to feel safe and respected in the place you live.
Sabah: I hope for Muslims to be known for who they are, their vibrant identities and stories, rather than being perceived solely through Orientalist framings. I hope that people not only recognize Islamophobia and the struggles of Muslims but also value our contributions to society. I hope that we can continue developing leaders, educators, and advocates who use knowledge and faith to dismantle all forms of oppression.
Selma: I am truly grateful to live in Vancouver, BC, a place where so many cultures come together to create something unique and beautiful. I believe real progress begins with education. The people who interact with us the most are often the ones who grow to understand and accept us. In the future, I hope to help close that gap, to challenge bias through conversation and compassion, and to show what Islam truly represents: peace, justice, and community. Above all, I want people to see that we, too, are part of the Canadian story, just as much as anyone else.
Edited by Melanie Miles
