Sarah Khan
19 min readAug 8, 2021

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The Only Battle Worth Waging

Isn’t it true, whenever you watch the news, all you hear about is social tension, turmoil or acts of terror? Angry hands clenched into angry fists, pounding at each other like war drums, each side perceiving themselves as the warriors, & the other the enemy. Feels like we are living in an ideological combat zone. Our differences are intensifying and polarization is tearing the seams of society. And this isn’t just an American illness — it’s a global pandemic.

One of my favorite psychological researchers and. social scientists, Dr. Brene Brown once said: “People are hard to hate close-up, so MOVE IN.”

Whenever I give talks on the importance of fostering understanding, I always include stories from my childhood.

Even though I’ve been in the United States for nearly three decades, I still consider myself a “Bombayite” and a proud Indian, as India is my birth country. You should see the way people stare at me when I tell them that I was born in a Hindu country — raised as a Muslim in a conservative Islamic household — and since age 3, studied under nuns at an all-girl Catholic convent. To them, it sounds like a formula for spontaneous combustion. In reality, it equipped me with the ability to empathize with those on the opposite ends of my ideological spectrum, and express tolerance and respect for all religions.

At home, every morning I’d wake up at the crack of dawn, lay my little prayer rug down and say, “Allah hu akbar!” And start praying.

At school, we would march our way to the church, where the nuns and the priest would start the morning prayers with “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” My favorite part was during Mass, when they’d pass around the wafers dipped in holy water. If you’ve ever tried it, you know It has no taste. Yet the joy that came from sharing it with my Catholics friends made it taste as sweet as paradise.

Now, since our neighbors were Hindu in India, my favorite trips with them were to the temple. As a little girl, I remember jumping to reach those temple bells. Thankfully, as an adult, I wouldn’t have to. jump anymore… I’d use a step stool — because I’m vertically challenged. Then we’d all join hands and bow our heads in prayer until the temple priest would distribute those mouth-watering mithai. Just don’t quiz me on the different types of mithai, coz “humay nahi Malum.”

Once, we had a potluck dinner. Anne, my Catholic friend, brought pork chops. I yelled, “Swine!” — referring to the chops, of course, not to Anne. Whereas Pretty, my Hindu friend, looked at my beef kebab and shouted, “Holy cow!!”. Even though we nourished ourselves with different foods and wisdom, because we had moved in, we not only tolerated, but celebrated, our differences.

My last memories of India were the Bombay riots that followed the Babri Mosque demolition. As a young girl, I was oblivious to how religions can be exploited, manipulated, and leveraged for political gain. When we become too attached to any ideology, be it religious or political, we leave no room for nuance: “You are either with us or against us.” We become desensitized, unable to feel with the heart of another.

What we don’t realize is that both sides’ perspective is their only reality. So Their truth is as evident to them as ours is to us.

What I will always remember about the Bombay riots is that our Hindu neighbors risked their lives to protect us from the Hindu mobs that went door-to-door looking to kill Muslims. Because our neighbors had “moved in” — because they had gotten to know us — they were able to understand our perspective and empathize with our vulnerable situation.

And, had we not “moved in,” we would never have trusted them with our lives, knowing that they belonged to the same religion as the marauders who wanted to kill us.

Embracing our shared humanity by coming closer has been my experience in India.

In the early 90’s, my family moved to America in pursuit of the American Dream. I don’t mean owning a 7/11.

But 9/11 changed everything for me. On Sept. 11, 2001, when America came under attack, fear gripped the country and doubts were justified. People began questioning not only the nation’s security and their personal safety, but also the loyalty of their fellow Americans of the Muslim faith. As the nation succumbed to Islamophobia, Muslims became victims of hate, prejudice, and violence.

Have you ever been judged, criticized, or treated differently based on how you look, sound, or where you’re from?

Imagine being bullied in public due to your physical appearance and out of ignorance.

I’ve had random people yell profanities at me at malls & grocery stores, I’ve had parents pull their kids away from mine at parks, I‘ve been told “get out of my country. you camel jockey!”

That’s horrible! Not only because it’s hateful, but also because in India….we ride elephants not camels.

After enduring countless Islamophobic attacks by white Americans, including almost being run over in a store parking lot by a woman in an SUV, while I was holding my infant in one arm and had my toddler by my side, I withdrew into a shell and developed a fear of white people. This social phobia eventually turned into agoraphobia. I was afraid to leave my house.

I remember this one time, when my husband was out of town, I realized at night that I had run out of milk. I couldn’t step out of my room — let alone my house — because of the “hatred” that lurked outside. So I sat there — all night — holding a child in each arm, tears streaming down my face, as they cried themselves to sleep…hungry.

I was falling apart due to the Islamophobic attacks that led to my severe phobia of white Americans.

What I didn’t realize is that. just as they had generalized about all Muslims being terrorists, which led to Islamophobic attacks against us, I had started to generalize about all white Americans being Islamophobes. That perception did not change until after I entered intensive therapy.

During our group therapy sessions, I was surrounded by white Americans. Every morning, all of the patients with various anxiety disorders would sit in a circle in a large room. To my right was “Ms. OCD”; to my left, “Mr. PTSD.” And then there was me: “Miss Congeniality.” I’m joking. I held a couple of other titles, too: “Ms. Agoraphobia” and “Ms. Social Anxiety.”

Our first “Exposure Therapy” exercise involved introducing ourselves to the class. You know, the drill that starts with, “Hello! My name is . . .”

Ever had anxiety over the fear of having anxiety?

My anxiety of being surrounded by the very people I feared was SO intense that when my turn came to introduce myself, not only didn’t I remember what to say, I couldn’t recall MY NAME! The hot flush of embarrassment I felt every time that happened could have easily been avoided ….by nametags!!

Slowly, I started to feel safe and opened up. As we shared our deepest fears, adversities, and vulnerabilities, we realized…as Ronnie Dunn sings. …”we all say words we regret, we all cry tears, we all bleed red.”

My therapist was Joann, who was blonde, blue eyed, and similar in stature to the lady in the parking lot who almost ran us over.

Picture: M. Joann Wright, PHD

Whenever I shared my Islamopbhoic experiences with her, she would get teary-eyed and offer to hug me.

As I got closer to the people I feared, and got to know them better, my walls fell down and we built bridges of understanding through empathy.

The day I joined a public speaking organization called Toastmasters, I was assigned a Jewish mentor named Holly.

Picture: Holly Miller Fleschler

After our meeting one day, she said, “Come over for bagels ‘n’ lox.” Having mistaken “n” for “in,” I kept wondering on the drive to her house: ”Why do Jews lock their bagels?!?”

One of the best ways of “moving in” is by breaking bread with strangers. You are bound to become friends after that. After all, the way to the heart is through the stomach.

Holly and I formed a beautiful friendship, though sometimes I wondered: What does she really think of me, not as a friend or a mentee, but as a Muslim?

Then one day, she said to me: “While I’ll never bear children, you have filled that void in my life.”

Now, we did have our differences. She’d weep for Israel, and I for Palestine. Yet, our hearts were entwined — like the messages of our Holy Scriptures.

People are hard to hate close up.

When you “move in,” you have the opportunity to hear stories you otherwise never would. Stories about how innocent people get dragged into ideological wars, and are left with nothing but broken windows & broken bones.

When I did stand-up comedy, I met Gordon, my first atheist friend. Though we seemed worlds apart, Humor transcended our differences and we bonded us together.

Picture: Gordon Limtiaco

Once, Gordon posted a picture of us on Facebook with the caption: “My favorite Muslim.”

To which I replied: “Dude…. I’m the ONLY Muslim you know!!!”

Peace in pluralism and unity in diversity — that’s the Beauty of Humanity.

Today, the news media, and the politicians who tend to dominate the airwaves, use dehumanization to divide people and promote hate. Dehumanization demonizes those perceived as the enemy by using words and images to portray them as morally da-generate.

I’m a Muslim of Kashmiri descent, and well aware of their struggle for human dignity and self-determination. Yet having distant relatives in the Indian military, I grew up listening to heartfelt stories about the sacrifices they made for the country. And, as an Indian married to a Pakistani, I’ve heard similar stories of sacrifice from my husband’s relatives who served in the Pakistani military. I’ve had the unique opportunity to hear both sides of the story.

Empathy can be a radical force for transformation. We must extend the boundaries of our moral universe by embracing our enemies.

I’ve listened to the hurt and have been moved to tears by the cries on both sides. And, more importantly, I’ve come to understand that we all share the same hopes, the same dreams, the same love of country, and the same willingness to sacrifice to protect our people.

Did you know that When Mahatma Gandhi witnessed the conflict between Muslims and Hindus leading up to India’s independence in 1947, he declared:

“I am a Muslim!

And a Hindu!

And a Christian!

And a Jew!”

From the comfort of our living rooms, based on the information we receive from the news media, it is easy to decide what the fate of a people should be — what’s best for them. But how can we render judgment without listening to their stories?

Whenever I watch the news, you know what I see? in the name of ideologies , leaders weaponizing terminologies, that’s what I see. In those angry fists, all I see….are welted fingers. Through those broken windows, these broken bones, all I see .. …are broken hearts.

As a hijabi Muslim with such a diverse background, I may be. easy to hate, especially in today’s political climate. Unless, of course, people are willing to “move in” and get to know me. That’s why we should break bread with strangers, and especially get to know those with different views or those on the opposite end of our ideological spectrum.

Let go of the attitude that for me to be right, I must prove you wrong; arguments may win debates, but never hearts.

“Moving in” and embracing our differences while recognizing our shared humanity, is the only way to foster peace in a turbulent world.

But here’s the catch- as the Dalai Lama once said, “World Peace begins with Inner Peace”. Thus, in order to promote peace around us, we must first create peace within.

Is it possible to cultivate calm amid chaos?

Or, even harder, is it possible to maintain peace within while being victimized by injustice?

It IS possible, but not easy.

It requires the ART of Attitude.

Let me share a story with you.

Imagine you just entered your favorite coffee shop. You can smell the aroma of fresh coffee beans. You walk up to the register — all smiles — and then suddenly . . . you see a face grouchier than the Grinch.

The barista who makes cappuccino at my neighborhood cafe always smiles and greets everyone in the queue — until it’s my turn. Then his face suddenly turns to stone —no greeting, eyes glaring, like he’s grinding my soul along with the coffee beans. You know who he reminds me of? The Soup Nazi from ​Seinfield ​… “No soup for you!”

“I’m sure it’s the hijab!” I thought. As I experienced that during post 9–11 Islamophobia.

In such situations, I’d feel hurt, angry, or offended. My knee-jerk reaction would have been to confront him. But that changed a few years ago.

I was in Chicago, my hometown, visiting my family, as I do every summer. It was one of those sweaty, sultry summer days in the Windy City, and I promised my sons and nephews that I would take them to the park so they could play, but first I needed to stop at a store.

I walked into the store looking like a momma goose with all five boys trailing behind me like a row of ducklings.

My youngest nephew, Ibrahim, was wearing his superhero cape — you know, just In case he needed to save all the women from overspending.

As I pushed my cart along, I suddenly got the eerie feeling that I was being watched.

Ever felt like that? Those who can’t relate….are clearly the ones stalking!

I noticed an employee in the distance, staring straight at us. Idrees, my younger son, accidentally stepped on a plush toy laying on the floor. Within seconds, this employee rushed toward us, yelling: “DON’T STEP ON THAT!“ I said, “I’m so sorry; it was an accident.” She insisted, “No, it wasn’t! And then stomped away, hands clenched at her side.

Seeing my face turn red from anxiety, my elder son, Jibreel, got scared. I comforted him, saying: “I’m okay.” But I wasn’t ok. Feelings of guilt and shame swept over me. I felt horrible for not standing up for my child when she yelled at him. But I didn’t want the kids to see my inner conflict, so I continued shopping.

Right then, my nephew untied his superhero cape and dropped it on the floor, complaining, “my neck hurts.” I looked up and saw the same employee barreling toward us. She furiously grabbed the cape. I said, “That’s not from the store; it belongs to the child.” Frustrated, she flung the cape back down and stormed off, grumbling under her breath.

As I watched my kids stare at me with wide eyes, I said to myself, “That’s it. I am NOT going to take this anymore!” I followed the clerk and confronted her about her attitude: “What is your problem?” She turned around and screeched, “YOUR KIDS ARE ANIMALS!”I yelled, “HOW DARE YOU talk about my kids like that? She hollered even louder and the conflict escalated. My heart started pounding so hard from anger and anxiety that I thought it would break through my chest. I kept thinking: “Don’t be weak. Don’t let her intimidate you. The kids are watching.” Fuming, she walked away and disappeared into an employees-only room.

I called over another clerk and demanded that she summon the manager, insisting that I would not leave the store until that employee apologized for her appalling behavior.

When the store manager didn’t arrive, I asked for the complaint-center number. Then I put my phone on speaker so that the kids could hear the conversation, and explained the whole incident.

The complaint manager apologized profusely. He assured me that disciplinary action would be taken, and said he would call me back after he had spoken to the employee. I thanked him for being proactive. And then I turned to the boys, and said: “See how I handled that. Don’t ever be weak, don’t ever be scared, and don’t ever let anyone walk all over you!” I finally felt like I was a good role model for the kids.

A week passed, and I still hadn’t received a call from the complaint department. It made me wonder: did the manager do what he had promised?

The following week, I was back home in LA with my kids, and resumed my routine. Yet, every now and then, the store incident popped into my head, and I wondered: “Could I have done. anything differently?”

One day, during my weekly session with Sheila, my then meditation teacher from Brahma Kumaris , I mentioned the store incident, hoping for sympathy about the way I was treated and expecting validation for how I handled the incident. She listened patiently without uttering a word. When I finished, she shared something completely unexpected — something she had been taught by her teachers.

She said, “When someone throws negativity at you, you have three choices: ABSORB, REFLECT, or TRANSFORM.”That’s A-R-T, The ART of Attitude — the ability to choose one’s demeanor in any situation.

It took me a few days to fully grasp the wisdom of her words.

When I initially remained quiet at the store, I was internalizing my pain by blaming myself for being weak and not fighting back.

When we ABSORB negativity, it hurts us because the words or behaviors trigger an already deep-seated insecurity in us. For example, in my case, I have long believed that I am weak. For someone else, it could be: “I’m not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough.”

When I finally mustered the courage to fight back, although I believed my reaction was justified at the time, I REFLECTED. the same negative behavior that had upset me.

If someone wrongs us through their words or actions, it seems normal and natural to get angry or upset, right? That’s our knee-jerk emotional response. In fact, it may even reassure us that we are courageous enough to stand up to such people. But does that momentary reassurance help or hurt us in the long run? That’s the question we need to ask ourselves.

For example, if I were to throw a burning hot coal at someone, whose hand would get burned first? Mine, right?

Similarly, in order to fight back, negative, unpleasant reactions like anger have to be aroused in us first. Which means we experience them first — they affect us before they reach their target.

So, is it worth it?

Even if the other person deserves it? Even if they started it?

As philosopher Epictedis once said, “Any person capable of angering you becomes your master; he can anger you only when you permit yourself to be disturbed by him.”

I thought I was being a good role model for the boys by being strong and fighting back, but what I showed them was that I was weak — that I had no control over my reactions because they fluctuate, based on other people’s behavior toward me.

If people are kind to us, we feel good; if they are mean to us, we feel angry, hurt, humiliated, and so forth.

When our temperament is nurtured or inflamed by our environment, we are held hostage. We become prisoners of others’ emotional caprices.

Today, we are strongly inclined to fight anger with anger, hate with hate, vitriol with vitriol, continually REFLECTING each other’s behavior, perceiving it to be a strength. In fact, responding in kind eliminates any chance of building peace.

Plus, when we outsource all of our hurt to others, saying we reacted negatively only because of what they said or did, we empower them to dictate our emotions.

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with standing up for what’s right; it’s the way we do it that distinguishes strength from weakness.

For example, bad actions should have consequences. Yet fighting back with fear, intimidation, or punishment does not create any meaningful or lasting change in a person’s behavior — let alone the negative feelings they may have toward us.

Now, if I had changed my attitude, if I had remained calm and composed, irrespective of the clerk’s negative behavior, and if I had responded positively with kindness, patience, and respect — maybe she would have realized that her actions were out of line. Maybe she would have stopped her aggression toward me or at least brought it down a notch. After all, it takes two for a conflict to thrive.

Just like water can penetrate the hardest of rocks, despite being the softest property, persistent gentleness is needed to penetrate the hardest of hearts to TRANSFORM them.

But maintaining peace within by staying calm and being polite in the face of anger and vitriol is NOT easy. It requires strength. It requires us to declare our ​EMOTIONAL INDEPENDENCE from the words and actions of others.

Like the barista at my favorite neighborhood cafe, who always glared and grumbled while taking my order. Earlier, I would have absorbed or reflected his negativity, but this is what I started to do: whenever I felt an impulse to react, I’d leave.

And then one day, I mustered the courage to practice a bit of emotional independence. I not only smiled when I reached the counter, but I swallowed my pride and said, “Hello,” as he ignored my greeting. Then I’d toss in, “Have a great day!” as I walked out with my coffee.

The inherent quality of a rose is that it radiates beauty and fragrance, irrespective of whether it celebrates a birth or commemorates the death of a loved one.

Just like the rose, we all have beautiful innate qualities: love, peace, joy. But one bad behavior from someone, and we let go of our beauty and absorb or reflect the ugliness.

The next time I visited the coffee shop, I was feeling frisky, so I threw in: “How’s your day going?” Guess what? The “Soup Nazi” returned my smile and said, “Not bad. How about you?” We even exchanged a few pleasantries. And before I could deliver my parting line, he beat me to the punch: “Have a wonderful day!”

So you see, when the qualities we radiate are not dependent on another person’s behavior, our persistent softness can penetrate the hardest of hearts and TRANSFORM them.

The barista and I will never be bosom buddies, but that summer, my teacher made me realize that — in a world where we crave freedom, liberation, and independence — we are too often emotionally dependent. Because if anyone can make us happy, can make us upset, can make us angry . . . we are trapped in a state of emotional slavery.

Our declaration of emotional independence is at the heart of maintaining peace within.

And when we become emotionally independent, we can tolerate any temperament because our inner tranquility is inviolate

And once we can tolerate any temperament, our attitude inspires transformation in others.

When I think of people who exemplified emotional independence — who transformed themselves from within — two names come immediately to mind: Nelson Mandela and Victor Frankl.

During Nelson Mandela’s imprisonment on Robben Island, the prison guards would take him outside every Thursday and make him dig a trench six feet deep. When he was done, the guards would order Mandela to lie down in the ditch, and they would urinate on him.

Years later, when Nelson Mandela was about to be inaugurated as the first leader of South Africa, he was asked who he’d like to invite to his first formal dinner as president. He replied: “The prison guards from Robben Island.”

After going through such horrors in prison, any ordinary person would be consumed by thoughts of revenge. Yet Mandela had no resentment or anger because he didn’t ABSORB or REFLECT the negativity. And due to his attitude and ability to maintain peace within, Mandela was able to promote peace around and TRANSFORM the lives of others.

His example also demonstrates that the source of our suffering is not another’s bad temperament, but our inability to tolerate it.

We are prisoners of our personalities. Thus, in order to change our experience, we must work on the resistance our personality generates.

And the reason why our personality generates resistance is revealed in a deeper truth, which was shared with me by my Vedanta teacher, Adi Kalianiwala. He said:

“The soil can only bring out what’s already in the seed.”

Likewise, if hostility comes out of us, that’s because it’s part and parcel of our personality. All it takes to trigger that tendency is for someone to show hostility toward us, get angry at us, or insult us.

Remember, despite his horrific treatment in prison, Mandela harbored no anger, no resentment because the soil cannot draw out what’s not in the seed.

We are prisoners of our personalities. We sink or swim with our nature. And so, in order to change our experience, we must work on our personality.

Victor Frankl, he was stripped of all his earthly possessions and tortured in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. Yet, due to his optimism, he survived and helped others do the same.

He believed that everything can be taken from a person except the last human freedom — the ability to choose one’s attitude under any circumstances.

So you see, while we may not be able to control the outer world — situations, people or their actions — we have full control of our inner world.

And If we can maintain our inner peace, despite outside turmoil, by being EMOTIONALLY INDEPENDENT, then it becomes easier to accept people and situations the way they are.

Acceptance doesn’t mean that we agree with their actions; it ONLY means our inner peace is not dependent or disrupted by their wrongdoing.

This revolution in perception leads to profound liberation because it transfers power from the external world back to ourselves.

The parable of Buddha and the second arrow arrives at the same truth.

Buddha once asked a student, “If a person is struck by an arrow, is it painful?”

The student replied, “It is.”

He then asked, “If the person is struck by a second arrow, is that even more painful?”

Again, the student replied, “It is.”

Then Buddha explained: “In life, we cannot always control the first arrow.

However, the second arrow is our REACTION to the first.

And with this second arrow comes the possibility of CHOICE.”

So, you see, we are not hapless and helpless victims of the world; rather, we are victims of the attitudes we bring to it.

Remember: “World Peace begins with Inner Peace”.

In a world full of angry fists and raised voices, reflecting anger, hate, and vitriol, perceiving it to be strength; in a world full of broken hearts due to ideological warfare, spewing hate and divisiveness, I implore you to become torchbearers for peace — peace within and without.

Activist and author Shane Claiborne said peacemaking is the act of interrupting injustice without mirroring it; the act of disarming evil without destroying the evildoer; the act of finding a third way that is neither fight nor flight. It is a revolution of love that sets both the oppressed and oppressor free.

The world needs more peacemongers, as PEACE is the only battle worth waging.

-Sarah Khan

American-Muslim Peacemonger

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