In the days after Donald Trump was elected president, Islamic Society of Greater Concord Imam Mustafa Akaya reflected on his country, his religion and his next steps. Anti-Muslim rhetoric in America, he reasoned, stemmed partially from a lack of understanding โ and Muslims themselves would have to change that.
Months later, Akaya was among the Concord Muslims who chose to brave the spotlight by opening up their personal lives to the Monitor. They talked about finding places to pray in the workplace, othersโ responses to their traditional Islamic dress, and bridging the gap between their native country and their new home.
Islam separates them culturally from the broader community at times, but each subject said it also connects them to a basic American ideal โ acceptance.
For new American Yusuf Bility, he sees a shared expectation from his religion and his country: love your neighbor.
โHow (else) are you going to live in community?โ
She was walking down the sidewalk with her son in Penacook. Sheema Shireen heard a car honking, then a man shouted out the window.
โHe said, โGo back to your country,โ โ Shireen said. In that moment, she felt like she did want to leave. Shireen has been in the U.S. on a work visa for a decade, and she moved to New Hampshire last year.
โNew Hampshire, Iโm still getting used to it,โ she said. The cold weather and fragmented family structure here are unfamiliar, and when it comes to finding Halal meat in accordance with Islamic practice, choices are limited. During her lunch break Thursday, for instance, Shireen left her computer programming job at the Department of Health and Human Services for her one chicken option in downtown Concord: Wow Fried Chicken and Subs.
Shireen said there are positive elements to living in America. Sheโs never been openly harassed for being Muslim, and she appreciates the traffic signs here (India is notorious for poor road safety). Her six-year-old son, Harun, was also born in the U.S., and likes it.ย
Outside work and school, they spend all their time together. In keeping with her faith, Shireen said she also wants to find charity work for them to do.
Shireen is not sure whether she wants to become a American citizen โ culturally, sheโs still out of place. But through activities with her son, sheโs doing all she can to make New Hampshire home.
โThe more you meet people the more your doubts will be changed,โ she said.
Temgbe โTinaโ Bility admitted she was nervous as she walked into the U.S. District Courthouse, went through security and emerged under a giant American flag.
Once she took her seat in the courtroom, her husband, Yusuf, filed into the back with their two children, Massa, 2, and Mohammed, 3, and with his mother, Massa.
โYouโre a citizen and Daddyโs a citizen and now Mommyโs going to be a citizen,โ Yusuf cooed to Mohammed. Yusuf was naturalized in 2013, a decade after he arrived from Liberia on a diversity visa.
On Friday, Tina Bility was among 80 people who became U.S. citizens. After fleeing the Ivory Coast as a refugee six years ago, citizenship is an overall relief โ it means she can finally return to her home country to visit her family.
All the Bilitys will travel to West Africa next year to introduce Mohammed and Massa to Tinaโs family, plus show the children their cultural roots. Coming back into America makes Tina anxious, not knowing President Donald Trumpโs future national security plans. Her fear is two-fold: her family is black as well as Muslim.
Yusuf, however, isnโt losing sleep over it. He originally came to the โland of opportunityโ to support his family, and he expects it to continue giving to him as long as he works for it. (Both he and his wife are pursuing higher education while they work).ย
โI just leave everything to God,โ Yusuf said.
As Yusuf sat and watched his wife and people from 33 countries gain citizenship, he said he feels comfortable in America despite the present political turmoil โ the country, in his mind, is uniquely aligned with his religionโs virtue of loving oneโs neighbor.
โItโs the only country where you can be from anywhere and become a citizen,โ Yusuf said. โItโs similar to Islam โ you have to be united as one.โ
As the chugging machinery started up again in the Concord Monitor distribution room one Wednesday after lunch, Musah Abdallah ducked out to his car.
He pulled out his gold-colored prayer rug from the trunk, and back inside, Abdallah asked fellow Community Bridges direct support provider Derek Dionne to supervise clients Mike Sauve and Justin Shaw. Both work in the Monitorโs distribution department.ย
Rug in hand, and after washing his hands (known as โWudu,โ or physical and spiritual cleansing before prayer), Abdallah walked to the buildingโs kitchen area. He peered into the back part that usually leads into a large, empty conference space, but it was blocked off โ a Leadership Greater Concord class was using it.ย
So Abdallah went to the quietest corner of the kitchen, laid his rug facing Mecca, and performed Zuhr prayers. After his four recitations, he picked up his rug and went back to supervising Sauve and Shaw for the afternoon.
In warmer months, Abdallah said he often prays on a grassy stretch in the parking lot. On days he forgets his rug, he might improvise with a piece of cardboard.ย
The important thing, he said, is to concentrate.
โWhen I go to pray, people donโt really interrupt,โ Abdallah said.
And while he might attract some stares in the Monitorโs kitchen, at the Community Bridges office, Abdallah said heโs been offered a private room.
These arenโt exactly the prayer room amenities he used to have while working as an airport health officer in his home country of Ghana. But after deciding to move to the United States 27 years ago, Abdallah appreciates being able to still pray at the workplace.
โA lot of places that I go โ they respect my religion,โ he said.
He might stand out from most New Hampshire crowds in his Moroccan robes and white cap. But Islamic Society of Greater Concord Imam Mustafa Akayaโs ability to individually express his faith โ in addition to his decade-old citizenship โ is what he said makes him American.
โItโs a great country for its freedom,โ Akaya said.
Recently, while walking through the mall, he said people asked why he wore the traditional Islamic dress. Akaya used the moment to start a conversation.
He told them that long, loose clothing is a sign of respect while Muslims pray. And because they pray five times a day, the outfit is just practical.
Akaya said with more scrutiny placed on Muslims in America in the wake of the Trump administration, thereโs now an opportunity to connect with more people.
The mosque received dozens of supportive emails the week after President Donald Trump issued the travel ban executive order, and Akaya said heโs increasingly involved with the Greater Concord Interfaith Council.
At a Jan. 31 interfaith council meeting at First Congregational Church, Akaya was greeted by St. Paulโs Church Brother Charles Edward with a hug. Afterwards, the imam chatted animatedly with Bahaโi representative Sue Brewer.
All these interactions are a strong contrast to the days after 9/11. The imam remembers being in Boston and a newer friend learning he was a Muslim. The friend told Akaya he had to be searched for weapons.
Akaya said he didnโt feel like he belonged in America then. But now, he is open about his faith, and what it teaches: peace, treating neighbors as family, charity, and not lying, cheating or hurting others.
โI see myself as a positive thing for the American society,โ Akaya said.
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