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Listening to MC Solaar, a French rapper, got me thinking about the current wave of French rap as well as Montreal rap. French artists like PNL, Damso, Nekfeu, Koba LaD, and Montreal artists like Lost, Izzy-S, Tizzo, Enima, and others sound very different from MC Solaar. Though this change might be simply generational, I'd like to think that there's more to it than a simple age gap and more to do with the generational anger and resentment these artists build up living in societies that always see them as 'foreigners' and paint them as 'criminals'.

Mandin makes an important note that "Nadir and Noham are not identified as part of a “problematic group” by the city authorities and the structure of their everyday lives usually keeps them away from [being] considered as dangerous" (308). The two men interviewed came to Montreal as middle-class adults who are educated and skilled professionals that Québec wants, but what about the Maghrebis who are born here or immigrated at a young age to Montreal and who are part of that 'problematic group'?

Racial profiling, police violence, and suspicion are well-known to the teenagers and young adults of Montreal neighbourhoods like Montreal Nord, Saint-Léonard, Cartierville, and a few others. In these low-income working class boroughs, immigrants from different communities tend to assemble, and police presence is high, under the assumption that there is an increase in crime, drug dealing, weapon smuggling, and scamming. Gang related and police related violence and deaths have been on the increase in the last decade, with many wrongful victims and arrests being carried out.

Rappers have also been targeted, as the authorities claim their lyrics contain messages that might be confessions to crimes they've committed. Montreal rapper Lost, for example, was behind bars for a year after being accused of murder. Prosecutors went through his lyrics to try to find things to use against him, but eventually the charges were dropped and he was released. In an interview, he says "if Patrick Senécal was accused of murder like me, would they go through his books to claim he was disturbed like they did to me?" (Senécal is a Québecois author known for horror/gore) A few years before, he was banned from performing with the Montréal rap collective '5Sang14', because authorities considered the group a gang, due to the content of their music. Two of the collective's members are of Maghrebi origin, and Lost is Cameroonian.

Besides the rap industry in Montreal, the teenagers living in working class neighbourhoods around Montreal also find themselves targeted by police. I speak from lived experience here, but I grew up in such a neighbourhood and attended a high school where police were called regularly, we had monthly police dog searches through our lockers, and arrests were common. Classmates would often disappear for weeks at a time to go to Youth Centres (juvie), and many of them dealt drugs and scammed banks for cash. I care less about whether what they're doing is right or wrong and more about why they do it. For most of them, this starts before they begin doing anything illegal, and instead starts in their neighbourhoods, where they see police arresting guys who look like them, older brothers, and caring neighbours. Then, they become involved because it's an easy way to get money, especially when they come from low-income families who cannot afford much. However, as time goes on and their involvement in these circles grows and they begin engaging in more dangerous gang activity, many of them become witnesses to the profiling, violence, and suspicion of the police, and they grow resentful. This resentment and anger towards police does not make one want to be a productive member of society, especially when authorities treat them like 'forever foreigners' (Martin) and like they are dangerous members of society, even before they ever engaged in illegal activities.

Like Karim says, it's "unjust to have thought you had to be like that to belong, but in the end you realize that you’ll never, ever belong. You remain forever different in the eyes of others." These young people realize that no matter how they behave, they will forever be a target to authorities. It doesn't matter whether they're model minorities or gang members.

For more on MTL rap and gang/police violence:

Documentaire - Street rap « Le son de la rue » (Izzy-S, Tizzo, Lost, Souldia, Enima, White-B, MB)

Fraude organisée | Enquête | Rad

Pourquoi la violence par armes à feu augmente dans les rues de Montréal? | Documentaire | Rad

namazie's poem resonates with anyone who finds themselves queer and in the diaspora, alienated from home through queerness and alienated from the West through the immigrant identity. However, namazie's poem does not submit to this idea, despite it being real and affecting the selfhood of many immigrants, including mine. The 'normative assumption' here refers to the assumption that a place like Persia (Iran), an Islamic state, does not welcome queerness and rejects its own people if they display queerness. However, despite the fact that this assumption does hold some truth, it is important to note that this assumption is validated and fuelled by Western powers like the US to portray the Iranian government as 'backward' for not accepting queerness as part of Iran, justifying their conflict against Iran.

When namazie says queer diasporic Iranians are 'of/against the future simultaneously', this refers to;

1. The view held by Islamic fundamentalists that portray queerness as a 'backwardness of the past'. Here, Queer Iranians are against the future.
2. The view promoted by the US that portrays Queer Iranians as requiring liberation through US-backed regime change that would create a society that would welcome Queer Iranians. Here, Queer Iranians are of the future.
3. The view held by some historians that insist on queerness being a part of Iranian history through literature and believe Iranian society was not homophobic until the colonial and imperial projects of the West. Here, Queer Iranians are against the future, but are not 'backward' like they are portrayed by the first view.

No matter what view one believes in, namazie's poem communicates that queerness has, is, and will always be a part of Iran. Queerness is not something to be repressed to embrace the Iranian identity, both can coexist.

Curtis notes that the disputes between Christians and Muslims coming from Syria to Turtle Island were not over religion, but over access to economic resources, social status, and the avoidance of social discrimination. By that logic, Christian Syrians were aware of the implications of being seen as 'Asiatic', 'Brown', or 'Muslim', and decided to use it to their advantage to be allowed into Canada and the US. The issue I raise is that the selfish tactic they utilized has had repercussions that still resonate, today. Indeed, this idea that Christian Arab immigrants are inherently better than their Muslim compatriots and that Muslims should not be allowed to immigrate for a number of reasons still exists nowadays and is often used to justify anti-Muslim policies.

Decades after this tactic was implemented, its rhetoric has been adopted by far-right Christian nationalist parties that argue that they are superior and better than Muslims and that they should form their own nation. In a course on ethnonationalism, the topic of the importance of language in nationalism was often discussed. In my opinion, language serves as the basis for nation-building, and religion comes after. In fact, even before the nation-state existed, communities were held together by a language that all its members could communicate with. So was the case with the Arabs in the Middle East, whether Christian or Muslim. If Arabs, no matter their religion, previously formed a community and viewed each other as equals, then did the idea of Christian supremacy only arise after Christian immigrants began claiming to be white and different from their Muslim compatriots? These two religions shared a language and a culture long before they began leaving their native land, but it seems like the sectarian divisions between them only started after the Christians adopted islamophobic rhetoric to gain entry to the US/Canada.

In reading Husain's study, the section talking about White Muslims rejecting their identification as white reminds me of a pattern I've often noticed with white people. While it is understandable that they are looking for a sense of belonging within the Muslim community, I find it audacious that they try to reject their whiteness.

In online spaces, I've noticed many people adopt labels and identities that are usually marginalised and that might grant them the label of 'minorities' or 'victims'. There's the whole phenomenon of "I can't be racist, I'm gay", a phrase that many people will use to defend themselves and rid themselves of any unlearning of racism they might have to do. In reality, being one minority does not excuse you from doing the work of supporting other minorities, especially when part of your identity is your whiteness.

Instead of trying to reject their whiteness to fit into the Muslim community, a more graceful approach would include using whiteness and the privilege it grants one to uplift the Muslim community, spread awareness, become a spokesperson, etc., especially because white people will usually have an easier time accessing platforms to make their voices heard. (there comes the argument of 'should a white person be a spokesperson for Muslims?', but that's a conversation for another day)

I'd also like to comment on what makes certain non-white people be more read as white than others. In terms of religious identity, identifying as a Christian, whether a Western or Eastern one, automatically places one closer to white Europeans and to European values for civilization. In terms of language, speaking French or English also puts one closer to Europeans, because those are languages spoken by the educated and wise Europeans. These characteristics make off-white people of colour more familiar to Europeans and they become less strange, less savage and oriental. This was indeed the case for Syrians, Iranians, and Lebanese people.

Western languages like French and English, as well as Christianity to a lesser extent, have been used in these places to portray French/English-speakers and Christians as superior to their Muslim neighbours, despite them sharing a nationality. Indeed, in Lebanon, the post-mandate era was marked by a rise in private French language Christian schools, which were overpopulated with rich Christians who claimed to be the 'elite, educated, civilised' class of Lebanon, thanks to their proximity to the French.

It is interesting to see that the privilege of being seen as white can not only be used to integrate the white society abroad, but can also be used to portray oneself as superior to others in one's own nation.

These readings are some of my favourite so far from the course, and I've got too many thoughts for one discussion post, but I'll do my best. I want to touch on fusion, authenticity, and diasporic relationships with food.

On the topic of fusion, I think of myself as a purist foodie and generally am against it. I just think it's useless and is rarely bringing anything impressive to the table. However, there's an Egyptian man who moved to Texas and learned to make proper Texan BBQ to then open his own food truck, serving Texas BBQ with Egyptian flavours (think smoked brisket with pomegranate molasses and fattoush). To me, that is fusion done right for many reasons. It brings change and innovation to something classic and rigid like Texas BBQ, which many have said is too meaty and heavy. By bringing Egyptian flavours into it, Kareem Al-Ghayesh adds vegetables, a salad with a bright dressing, and acidic flavours that cut through the fatty meat and brings much needed balance to the meal. Beyond that, it introduces Egyptian food to a population known for its conservative and ultra-American nature. Breaking into a market that is so rigid and traditional as an Arab man is difficult, I'd say, especially when you're trying to bring Arab spices, and halal meat to Southern America, but Al-Ghayesh came to Texas and learned to become a pitmaster, showed respect to the original cuisine, and then brought his own twist to it.

As for my thoughts on the importance of authenticity, I immediately thought of 'Israeli' food. We've all surely seen videos of influencers trying Israeli food, aka falafel, hummus, baklava, labneh, zaatar, baba ghannouj, and knafeh. Claiming that these dishes is 'authentic' is a disrespect to the Arab countries that have been making these dishes way before Israel ever existed. It is a disrespect to claim these dishes are theirs when they were simply appropriated from Palestinians and made to be 'authentic Israeli food'. I suppose their attempt to pretend that these dishes are authentic is an attempt at selling their belonging to the Middle East, since they share a cuisine with much of the other Middle Eastern states that surround them. However, this attempt at cultural solidarity through food is not successful when Israel continues to occupy Palestinian territories and bombards Lebanese cities, so their authenticity truly goes out the window.

Finally, to talk briefly about nostalgia and relationships with food in the diaspora, I think of my own experiences. I was quite moved by quotes from Katrak's essay and by the writing about "enhancing the value of a recipe... to consume 'authentic' difference" (Mannur, 32), and the concept of naturalization minoritizing your ethnic identity (33). To combat that, I've always proudly shown off the fact that I eat 'kebbeh nayyeh', a dish made of raw meat mixed with bulgur, eaten with raw onions and mint leaves. I'm also proud to say I love 'ghammeh', a dish made of stuffed intestines that looks... quite beige in colour, but is delicious and holds many dear memories to me. I often show this pride off in front of other Arabs or Lebanese people, to portray myself as 'more Lebanese' or a 'better Arab' than those who find these dishes unappetizing. In my mind, the weirder and more unappealing the dish is, the more authentic and traditional, which means I'm a better Arab than other Arabs, both in the diaspora or back home. This is... a little childish of me, but it's one of the ways I validate myself. I'm sure many other immigrants share this experience.

I find it audacious of Canadians such as Macpherson to say that the "men who built up this country... were men of first class, A 1 stock" and that Indian migrants could not be Canadian because they "cannot appreciate our mode of life, our mode of education, all that goes to make up Canadian citizenship" (p. 84), when "Canadians" never bothered to appreciate the mode of life and education of the Indigenous populations that were present on the land when they first arrived as colonizers. It is ironic to claim that Indian migrants are dirty and that they carry diseases that threaten white life when the white settlers brought diseases with them from Europe that eradicated Indigenous populations all over Canada.

Also, as many of us know, Canada is praised for being a "multicultural" society nowadays, where and when did the idea of Canada as multicultural start and when did the ideal of "white homogeneity" end?

As for the Shah reading, I'd argue that historical records focus on nonconsensual male-male sex and nonconsensual polygyny because those are the acts that can be used to push for racist ideas. In the Don Sing case specifically, the court never questions whether or not Murray has been sodomized, it is presented and believed to be a fact. The sodomy of a white man by Brown men then presents an image that weakens the white man and feminizes him, which is humiliating to him, and by extension, to every white man. That humiliation undermines the supremacy white people believe they possess over Brown people, and is taken advantage of in cases such as these to restore the white man's dignity at the expense of the Brown men, and to send a message that reinstates the white man's supremacy. No one cares if two Brown/White men are kissing consensually, because nothing can be done to reinforce white supremacy then. However, when a suspected nonconsensual relation takes place, there is an opportunity for the court to publicly remind the migrant populations of their inferior place in society.

The Antiman excerpt explores the familiar (to me) experience of being discouraged from indulging yourself in your culture and roots while also having parts of your identity be 'incompatible' with said culture. The narrator is a Brown and queer man attempting to connect with his roots by studying his ancestral language, translating it, transcribing songs, traveling to India, etc., despite his father's disapproval and insistence on remaining distant to his native culture and embracing Western culture. That embracing however, clearly has its limits. When the narrator comes out to his mother, she insists he should keep it a secret from his father, as its a taboo within Brown culture to be queer. In this instance, his mother is asking him to remain faithful to his cultural roots and to keep this secret to save his family from "shame" or "humiliation" they might face from the wider community/extended family. If his father wants him to stay away from his native culture, then that implies he should stay away from its beliefs and values, but if his mother asks him to remain queer in secret or to try and date women because his culture isn't queer-friendly, that implies that he should stay inline with the values and beliefs of his culture. I suppose the solution here would be to find a balance, just queer enough and just Brown enough, but that option implies a sacrifice, no matter what balance is found.

(This parallel was brought up in class, but I thought it was interesting as I had also thought about it while reading the excerpt)

In reading Visram, I couldn't help but see the parallels between the treatment of ayahs and lascars and the present-day treatment of migrant workers/domestic workers in the Middle East (specifically the Gulf states, as well as Jordan and Lebanon). The legal framework that allows for the employment of migrant labourers in these states is known as the kafala (sponsorship) system, where employers 'sponsor' a worker from African and South Asian countries to come work in a Middle Eastern country. In practice, the system is filled with exploitation and the workers are often left with no job security, abuse, low wages, and no official papers to allow them a return home, as their passports are often confiscated upon arrival.

In the same way ayahs and lascars were left begging and 'destitute' in the streets of London, it is not rare to find migrant labourers in the streets of the Middle East, unable to find work and facing discrimination from employers.

On another note, I found it interesting that a servant like Abdul Karim gained the respect of the Queen herself and was not seen as simply property, but was even a teacher to a British monarch. The power dynamics of a relationship between servant/master that is also one of teacher/student is interesting to me, especially in the context of an empire as dehumanizing to South Asian as the British empire.

Also, the Visram reading's discussion of lodging houses that housed servants waiting for employment or passage to India is, perhaps, a previous version of the boarding houses in Cardiff, though there are obvious differences in the management of these two places. In the modern Middle East, non-profits and other organizations provide housing for workers who have been abandoned by their employer and some offer legal assistance in order to help them come back to their home countries.

I find it interesting in the Morales reading that many women-led groups such as PIEDAD and LALMA had to rely on the guidance and teaching of male (arabic-speaking) scholars to not only lead their educational programs but to also add credibility to their cause. I wonder which groups within the Muslim community would have judged the employment of female scholars or of less “traditional” ones. Would critiques have come from the Arab Muslims in California? Would they have come from non-Muslim Latine communities?

I also think it is interesting to see how patriarchal or sexist practices can sometimes be in service of women (unfortunately). Had these groups employed other scholars to teach new Muslims about Islam, the success of their groups would’ve been much less likely.

As for the Cook reading, I thought it was quite egregious of people to be accusing others of being Muslim and using circumcision as proof. Specifically, my issue is less with circumcision and more with the fact that someone took note of another’s genitalia and cared enough to bring it to court as evidence of some immoral beliefs that went against Spanish values.

(I am not attempting to evaluate the sexist/patriarchal practices within Islam, and I don’t think I have the credentials that would make any of my comments relevant or needed, these are only observations)

Sara Ahmed’s ideas surrounding letting go, integration, and melancholy migrants remind me of the conversations we had in class last week, where many of us said we developed an interest in ISLA studies out of a desire to connect with our roots and learn where we come from, or where our parents come from. If our parents had to let go of their customs and traditions that impeded their attempts at successful integration, how come we find ourselves doing the opposite? Ahmed invokes second generation characters that want to distance themselves from their cultures and their families’ practices and provides a sound explanation, but I can’t help but wonder about the opposite phenomenon. So many of us, clearly, despite being integrated into a Western society, go out of our way to connect with our customs and traditions that our parents had to let go of. Their ‘happy objects’ are the same as my ‘happy objects’, from music, film, culture, literature, language, cuisine, but they had to let go of these things, while I reach for them time and time again and build an identity that outwardly shows the same elements that impeded my parents integration…

Also, I’d like to bring into the discussion the topic of class and how this might intersect with melancholy/non-melancholy. I am of the opinion that the wealthier you are, the easier it is for you to integrate (this has also been brought up in class). If a wealthy family immigrates, despite the fact that they are foreign, the society they choose to integrate welcomes them much more smoothly than it would welcome a working-class family. A family of educated parents, who speak multiple languages, have access to resources and a network of people that can aid their transition, will have a much easier time immigrating and will have to let go of much less than the working-class family, which has to prove that they can integrate into a host society. A wealthier family is allowed to keep its attachment to their culture much more than a working-class family, because the host society has judged these attachments as not threatening their integration. The working-class family’s attachment, however, represents an obstacle in their integration.

Yancy posits that, because whiteness is the norm, the standard, the status quo, the usual, it becomes invisible, especially in the eyes of white people who benefit from it. These benefits come in the form of seeing themselves as neutral, unracialized people, but also in the form of societal structures that empower white people socially, politically, economically, etc. This invisibility and normative nature of whiteness is precisely what has allowed white people to remain comfortable within their privilege, blinded by their own sense of self that stands in the way of integration. But how does one become aware of something they cannot see?

Yancy, Baldwin, and Fanon all touch on the same concept; white people must become aware of their whiteness through a counter-gaze, a mirror, a flipping of the script, or a pointing finger saying “Look, a white!”, all of which disrupt the unquestioned white identity by marking it as a defining trait that requires attention, in the same way white people have used “Look, a N-” against Black people. By forcing white people to become aware of their whiteness, they are forced to question the ways in which they have power over Black people, they might understand just a little bit of the Black perspective, they might understand how their whiteness is so entrenched in all parts of society. Indeed, this counter-gaze is a gift that Black people give white people with love, in hopes that they can remove the barriers making integration difficult. Just as Yancy learns of his implication in perpetuating patriarchal and misogynistic practices, white people might come to a similar conclusion:

“I have dared to see the world and my identity through their critical analyses, from their experiences of white dominant culture, from their mirror. “Damn, what a racist! I overlooked that one.” Yet I am thankful for their gift. And while it is true that I always fail to comprehend the sheer complexity of what it is like to be a white person in a world that is based on white superiority, and the multiple forms of white violence toward Black people, I can use that mirror to make a difference. I can see me differently; I can see the operations of male hegemony differently, in ways that implicate me. And as a gift, I treat it as such. I am humbled by it.”

(this is the second half of the second paragraph on p.10 of the Yancy reading, I’ve just changed the words relating to feminism, women, male patriarchy, to words that would fit the issue of whiteness and race)

If they are not able to recognize this gift and use it to achieve self-awareness and as long as they do not do so, white people will remain trapped in this constructed history and nature that portrays them as superior, just as Baldwin says.

The Swet Shop Boys’ video is, to me, a self-aware Orientalist piece of media. Indeed, from the clips of women dancing in Bollywood films, to the clips of men carrying guns and protests in South Asian streets, all of them represent some form of Orientalist thought or projection that the West has constructed through years of fabricating the ‘Orient’. As Saïd states, the West’s dismissive representation of Oriental women as sensual beings, quiet, and of Oriental men as violent and uncivilized terrorists has created an expectation of Brown people in the eyes of the Western audience. But, can Brown artists use that to their advantage?

The most obvious Orientalist element, and perhaps the most ironic, is the Arabic script used in the subtitles. To the knowing eye, the Arabic script is completely nonsensical and is nothing more than a series of letters (in English, it’s basically “A S W E W K B Y T R”), but to a Western audience, that script could very well be real subtitles in Arabic, Punjabi, or even Urdu. What do they know? What's the difference, anyway?

Perhaps, the choice of presenting Orientalist elements to a Western audience serves to reclaim these images, the script, and this culture. Bald argues that embracing the fabricated Orientalist identity can be empowering in some circumstances, and I argue that this is one of them. By using a script that a Western audience can faintly recognize but not understand, the Swet Shop Boys maintain this script as their own, only for them and audiences who know it to understand. The clips show stereotypical and Orientalist representations of Brown people, representations that fit with what the Western audience expects, which creates an illusion of understanding the art. This Western understanding, however, remains limited by its own imagination of what the Orient represents.

To the Swet Shop Boys, the practice of gatekeeping their culture by showing a Western audience these expected and stereotypical images, allows them to make palatable art for the Western masses and art that they think they understand. To audiences that share an ethnicity, a language, or an ‘Oriental’ identity with the Swet Shop Boys, the irony of these images is not lost on them. Indeed, it seems to me that the Swet Shop Boys’ video is an ‘Easter egg’ or an inside joke that is protected from the Western audience, accessible only to those with a more nuanced, personal, real, and self-aware point of view.