Muslim country musician reverses stereotypes It was the twang that threw me. I'm talking serious cowboy voice. The kind that can only come from out on the range. The kind that still startles my New England ears. "Miss Fleeeeynn?" he said. "This is Kareem Salama. I understand you're trying to reach me."
OK, hold it. I happened to have this man's Web site up for a story I was researching. And I knew that Salama was a Muslim, a law student, and a country and western singer. And, of course, I had read his biography on his site, where he detailed his multicultural upbringing. His parents, who now live in Richmond, southwest of Houston, took him to Native American powwows and the county fairs and rodeos and made trips to Branson, Mo., and Opryland in Nashville, Tenn.
As I listened to him, I couldn't reconcile the twang with the chiseled Egyptian face on the Web site. Most of the Muslims I know have foreign accents. But why should I be so jolted by a thoroughly American Muslim? Or should I say: A Muslim who, at least on the surface, seems to fit another American stereotype? More on that later.
Source: [
Austin Statesman]
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Salama graciously answered all my questions and pulled back the curtain on an unexpectedly American portrait. It's probably safe to say your average Oklahoma boy isn't memorizing classical Arabic poetry and composing a melody for John Donne's "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning." And I'm guessing you don't see too many Muslims in 10-gallon hats at the Grand Ole Opry.
Salama acknowledged that "the vast majority of us (Muslims) don't fit the image of people have in their head." "Although, I understand why people have that image in their head," he added.
Salama pushes past that. After he earns his degree at the University of Iowa, he hopes to pursue his law career in -- where else? -- Nashville. Maybe he'll give Toby Keith a run for his money, but Salama seems more interested in sharing a musical message he believes will resonate with people of all faiths.
A few days after I spoke to him, I received a copy of his CD "Generous Peace," a collection of earnest songs about war, love, faith and justice. (If you care to listen to some of the tunes, check them out at kareem salama.com.)
The story I wrote about Muslim lawyers (Austin American-Statesman, Feb. 13), introduced me to other surprises, including a Midwestern comedian, a Canadian TV show called "Little Mosque on the Prairie" and a basketball fan whose wardrobe includes hip urban threads and traditional Muslim garb.
That person, Ali Jafri, a University of Texas law student, discovered that some readers don't want to hear about his faith. One man, one of many readers who responded negatively to the story, wrote a letter to the editor arguing that Jafri's decision to wear clothes reflecting his religion "negate the Muslim culture's assimilation into American society, a process successfully followed by most other immigrant cultures over the past 150 years."
A frustrated Jafri wondered whether wearing crosses and yarmulkes made Christians and Jews any less American.
Readers often challenge me on the question of religion and culture. Can we easily define "American culture"? And if you hold onto the religious and cultural traditions of your forebears, are you stubbornly resisting assimilation? Without fail, whenever I write about Muslims, I receive a slew of e-mails expressing anger, fear and frustration. Some of which, as Salama noted, is under- standable.
In response to the Muslim lawyers story, one reader, a seventy-something grandmother, said she guessed I was probably a very nice person (a common misperception), but that my articles on Muslims were paving the way for an Islamic takeover in this country. She worried that her grandchildren would be forced to worship Allah.
I've had a running e-mail exchange with another reader who argued that Muslims and other immigrants were jeopardizing the American culture that has been established over the years. I thought he idealized the past. He thought I was in denial.
These aren't easy conversations. I can't fully appreciate the fear of that grandmother. Nor am I a Muslim struggling to balance Old and New World identities. My people long ago sorted out their place in this society. (This, of course, is a sneaky way for me to point out that the once-despised Irish so corrupted American culture that we're all wearing green and celebrating their patron saint today.)
But this is what intrigues me about people like Kareem Salama. He's forging a path, identifying with much of what we think defines American culture while unashamedly promoting his faith. There might never be a market for country songs based on classical Arabic poetry. But Salama's American experience will surprise people and, hopefully, make us reflect more thoughtfully on who we are.