A decade and a day ago, you could describe a guy as being tall, Muslim, from the Bronx, and no one’s eyes would start darting. Back then, the word “Muslim” was merely an adjective. Today it’s an accusation. An allegation. An affront.

Since the enforcement of France and Belgium’s bans on face veils (“niqab”), the countries’ policemen have been assigned a singularly difficult task: making sure that Muslim women behave. Police are required to detain and fine Muslim women covering their faces illegally in public. The French police send some of these women to citizenship classes where they can learn the appropriate way to exhibit their spirits of liberté and égalité, while in Belgium offenders can also be jailed (sans face veils, of course). As French President Sarkozy stated when promoting the ban, the niqab is “a sign of subservience, a sign of debasement” of women. Recent news articles indicate that, at least in France, the police force is befuddled about how to enforce this ban and ensure that Muslim women are less subservient and debased.

Contributors to AltMuslimah.com

In the next few weeks, you may come into work and find your co-worker taking a power nap at 9:30am. At break time, you’ll notice she is missing in the discussion about Harry Potter over at the water cooler. At the staff meeting, you will be shocked when she is offered coffee and cookies and refuses ! By lunch time, your concern about her missing at the water cooler compels you to investigate the situation.

Among a row of pretty young girls wearing both dark and pastel colored head scarves, and making furiously quick and deliberate movements with their fingers, all the while mouthing the words, we see the profile of a pensive 27 year-old woman. Seated in this lecture hall, she stands out from the others, with her silent demeanor and her curly, chestnut hair unrestrained by a scarf. Aran Slade is the star of “Deaf Sisterhood,” a documentary made by Redbird Productions for British Sign Language Broadcasting Trust (BSL) and available on BSL’s website. Aran, a teacher for the deaf from Birmingham, is one of thousands of British women who consider converting to Islam each year, and this 24 minute film chronicles her journey in a gentle, although sometimes incomplete, fashion.

I was raised in a very religious Christian household.  Religion is as much a part of our family's identity as are the black eyed peas, corn bread and greens we eat after Sunday service.  At any given time, guests who walk into our home would be greeted by Christian, TBN/Moody Bible/Focus on the Family orchestra blaring on all three televisions and the radio.