I learned virtually everything from two women: my mother, Fikrieh Beydoun, and my law professor and mentor, Kimberlé Crenshaw. Through my mother, a single parent who struggled through countless odds jobs to provide for my two siblings and me and shuttled us through eleven houses from Dearborn to Detroit in pursuit of a suitable home, I became a man. Through Kim Crenshaw, whom I studied under and worked alongside, I learned what I wanted to do with my life. A giant as a scholar and a dynamo as an activist, Professor Crenshaw demonstrated that innovative scholarship did not, and should not, have to be confined to the world of ivory towers and complex ideas, but instead should be activated to bring about change, on the ground, during times of great crisis and mass action. These two women gave me life, changed my life, and saved my life.
Special gratitude is owed to Devon Carbado, Ediberto Roman, Hisham Aidi, and Luke Harris for invaluable mentorship but more importantly, for believing and having confidence in me. I have also learned immensely from Cheryl Harris, Khaled Abou El Fadl, Laura Gomez, and other members of the UCLA Critical Race Studies Department, in which I had the privilege of serving as a visiting assistant professor from 2012 through 2014. I am also grateful for the intellectual community and cutting-edge work provided by the University of California Islamophobia Research & Documentation Project (IRDP), and most notably, its founder, Hatem Bazian. Furthermore, I owe thanks to my colleagues at the University of Detroit Mercy School of Law, particularly Dean Phyllis Crocker, Richard Broughton, Erin Archerd, Kyle Langvart, Catherine Archibald, and Karen Henning, who have consistently supported my scholarship, advocacy, and public intellectual work.
I am blessed to have the support of a brilliant and generous community of colleagues and friends within the legal academy, including Cyra Choudhury, Ediberto Roman, Ericka Wilson, Priscilla Ocen, Addie Rolnick, Nancy Leong, Sumi Cho, Adrien Wing, Luke Harris, SpearIt, Brant Lee, Nareissa Smith, Vinay Harpalani, Sahar Aziz, Amna Akbar, Justin Hansford, Bernadette Atuahene, Atiba Ellis, Alvin Starks, Michael Morley, and Ben Edwards. I also owe gratitude to Erik Love, Dalia Mogahed, Namira Islam, Margari Hill, Kumar Rao, Hattem Beydoun, Michael Song, Joann Moolsintong, Richard Alvarez, Donna Auston, Killoud Dabaja, Desiree Ferguson, Kameelah Rashad, Veryl Pow, Maia Anthony, Steve Jenkins, Nura Sedique, Ahmed Abouznaid, Laith Saud, Daanish Faruqi, Jameel Harb, Nabil Silmi, Abbas Barzegar, Layla Abdulah-Poulos, Ifrah Magan, Aminah Bakeer Abdul-Jabbaar, Mariam Masri, Linda Sarsour, Dawud Walid, Omid Safi, and many others that I advocate alongside and from whom I draw energy, intellectual community, and most importantly, optimism.
Most notably, I owe immense gratitude to Asha Noor, Nadim Hallal, Nadia Salibi, Hamada Zahawi, Mohammed Maraqa, George Naggiar, Ahmed Al-Rumaihi, Jason Oh, and Abed Ayoub for immeasurable support, and for reminding me that family is not always a relationship bound by blood. I cannot adequately express my appreciation for Naomi Schneider and the University of California Press, for valuing my voice and trusting that I could deliver on a project that met the magnitude of the moment and the urgency faced by Muslims, people of color, and marginalized peoples in the United States and beyond.
I cannot thank my mother, siblings, nieces and nephew enough for believing in me and my work; Erin Durrah for supporting and loving me through the most turbulent times; Michelle Long, her mother, for being a model for both of us to follow. Finally, I thank my home city, Detroit, which has nourished me with the grit, tenacity, and self-belief to overcome the odds I have faced and those I will confront moving forward. For that, I will always remain loyal to my soil, a proud Detroiter wherever I go and wherever I reside.
The past several years have afforded me with the opportunity, which I took on as an obligation, to share my research on national security policing, civil liberties, and the focus of this book, Islamophobia, on college campuses, at law schools, and in communities across and outside of the United States. While I have been closely examining these topics for some time, even before beginning my legal academic career, the 2016 presidential election brought an immediate urgency to and proliferated interest in my work. I spent much of 2015, 2016, and early 2017 on the road, speaking to undergraduates and graduate students, faculties and community members, educating them about the meaning, parameters, and threat of Islamophobia, and in the process, hearing their personal stories, building friendships, and expanding my community during a time of national crisis.
I have interwoven several of these stories into this book, which presented an opportunity to memorialize the rich tapestry of experiences, memories, and people with whom I crossed paths. But most importantly, this book presented a lasting opportunity to extend my mission to educate people about Islam, Muslim Americans, and the deeply rooted and rising system—Islamophobia—that distorts, demonizes, and drives state and private violence against the faith and its adherents.