By Parvez Sharma
“What’s his name?” I asked my husband as he woke me to tell me of the carnage in Orlando. “It’s going to be a Muslim name.”
I just knew it. I had never been one to racially profile my own community. But this time my premonition was right.
A few years ago, in Islamic year 1432, I was in Mecca on the hajj pilgrimage. I shared a meal with an older Yemeni at Al Baiq, the Saudi version of KFC. We discussed the monstrous Kingdom Tower looming over the Kaaba, the beating heart of my faith, where millions of Muslims converge every year to perform the rituals that make up Islam’s highest calling. The bin Laden family was responsible for its construction, along with the destruction of countless historic sites and artifacts of Islamic history to pave the way for resort hotels and other conveniences reserved for the 1 percent.
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