This article, and other similar stories, give me the feeling that I am
standing on the edge of a giant Black Hole, and the ground beneath my
feet is crumbling away.
For 8 years under the "leadership" of Barack Obama, we barely held the
line. In just over a month, Donald Trump has threatened Life as we
Know it. 8 years of holding the line, and now we are looking at 4
years that will destroy the working class totally.
Can we say, Indentured Servants?
Of course we can.
It's a beautiful day for the Ruling Class...
Carl Jarvis
On 2/24/17, Miriam Vieni <miriamvieni@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Ahmed writes: "Like most of my fellow American Muslims, I spent much of
2016
watching with consternation as Donald Trump vilified our community. Despite
this - or because of it - I thought I should try to stay on the NSC staff
during the Trump Administration, in order to give the new president and his
aides a more nuanced view of Islam, and of America's Muslim citizens. I
lasted eight days."
Rumana Ahmed, who worked in the White House as part of the Obama and Trump
administrations. (photo: Leah Varjaques/The Atlantic)
<https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/02/rumana-ahmed-trump/517
521/>
I Was a Muslim in Trump's White House. I Lasted 8 Days.
By Rumana Ahmed, The Atlantic
23 February 17
WWhen President Obama left, I stayed on at the National Security Council in
order to serve my country. I lasted eight days.
n 2011, I was hired, straight out of college, to work at the White House
and
eventually the National Security Council. My job there was to promote and
protect the best of what my country stands for. I am a hijab-wearing Muslim
woman--I was the only hijabi in the West Wing--and the Obama administration
always made me feel welcome and included.
Like most of my fellow American Muslims, I spent much of 2016 watching with
consternation as Donald Trump vilified our community. Despite this--or
because of it--I thought I should try to stay on the NSC staff during the
Trump Administration, in order to give the new president and his aides a
more nuanced view of Islam, and of America's Muslim citizens.
I lasted eight days.
When Trump issued a ban on travelers from seven Muslim-majority countries
and all Syrian refugees, I knew I could no longer stay and work for an
administration that saw me and people like me not as fellow citizens, but
as
a threat.
The evening before I left, bidding farewell to some of my colleagues, many
of whom have also since left, I notified Trump's senior NSC communications
adviser, Michael Anton, of my departure, since we shared an office. His
initial surprise, asking whether I was leaving government entirely, was
followed by silence--almost in caution, not asking why. I told him anyway.
I told him I had to leave because it was an insult walking into this
country's most historic building every day under an administration that is
working against and vilifying everything I stand for as an American and as
a
Muslim. I told him that the administration was attacking the basic tenets
of
democracy. I told him that I hoped that they and those in Congress were
prepared to take responsibility for all the consequences that would attend
their decisions.
He looked at me and said nothing.
It was only later that I learned he authored an essay under a pseudonym,
extolling the virtues of authoritarianism and attacking diversity
<http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/michael-anton-trump-essay-publius-deciu
s-mus_us_589ba947e4b09bd304bff3c8> as a "weakness," and Islam as
"incompatible with the modern West."
My whole life and everything I have learned proves that facile statement
wrong.
My parents immigrated to the United States from Bangladesh in 1978 and
strove to create opportunities for their children born in the states. My
mother worked as a cashier, later starting her own daycare business. My
father spent late nights working at Bank of America, and was eventually
promoted to assistant vice president at one of its headquarters. Living the
American dream, we'd have family barbecues, trips to Disney World,
impromptu
soccer or football games, and community service projects. My father began
pursuing his Ph.D., but in 1995 he was killed in a car accident.
I was 12 when I started wearing a hijab. It was encouraged in my family,
but
it was always my choice. It was a matter of faith, identity, and resilience
for me. After 9/11, everything would change. On top of my shock, horror,
and
heartbreak, I had to deal with the fear some kids suddenly felt towards me.
I was glared at, cursed at, and spat at in public and in school. People
called me a "terrorist" and told me, "go back to your country."
My father taught me a Bengali proverb inspired by Islamic scripture: "When
a
man kicks you down, get back up, extend your hand, and call him brother."
Peace, patience, persistence, respect, forgiveness, and dignity. These were
the values I've carried through my life and my career.
I never intended to work in government. I was among those who assumed the
government was inherently corrupt and ineffective. Working in the Obama
White House proved me wrong. You can't know or understand what you haven't
been a part of.
Still, inspired by President Obama, I joined the White House in 2011, after
graduating from the George Washington University. I had interned there
during my junior year, reading letters and taking calls from constituents
at
the Office of Presidential Correspondence. It felt surreal--here I was, a
22-year-old American Muslim woman from Maryland who had been mocked and
called names for covering my hair, working for the president of the United
States.
In 2012, I moved to the West Wing to join the Office of Public Engagement,
where I worked with various communities, including American Muslims, on
domestic issues such as health care. In early 2014, Deputy National
Security
Advisor Ben Rhodes offered me a position on the National Security Council
(NSC). For two and a half years I worked down the hall from the Situation
Room, advising President Obama's engagements with American Muslims, and
working on issues ranging from advancing relations with Cuba and Laos to
promoting global entrepreneurship among women and youth.
A harsher world began to reemerge in 2015. In February, three young
American
Muslim students were killed in their Chapel Hill home
<https://www.ted.com/talks/suzanne_barakat_islamophobia_killed_my_brother_le
t_s_end_the_hate/transcript?language=en> by an Islamophobe. Both the media
and administration were slow to address the attack, as if the dead had to
be
vetted before they could be mourned. It was emotionally devastating. But
when a statement was finally released condemning the attack and mourning
their loss, Rhodes took me aside to to tell me how grateful he was to have
me there and wished there were more American Muslims working throughout
government. America's government and decision-making should reflect its
people.
Later that month, the evangelist Franklin Graham declared that the
government had "been infiltrated by Muslims." One of my colleagues sought
me
out with a smile on his face and said, "If only he knew they were in the
halls of the West Wing and briefed the president of the United States
multiple times!" I thought: Damn right I'm here, exactly where I belong, a
proud American dedicated to protecting and serving my country.
Graham's hateful provocations weren't new. Over the Obama years, right-wing
websites spread an abundance of absurd conspiracy theories and lies,
targeting some American Muslim organizations and individuals--even those of
us serving in government. They called us "terrorists," Sharia-law
whisperers, or Muslim Brotherhood operatives. Little did I realize that
some
of these conspiracy theorists would someday end up in the White House.
Over the course of the campaign, even when I was able to storm through the
bad days, I realized the rhetoric was taking a toll on American
communities.
When Trump first called for a Muslim ban, reports of hate crimes against
Muslims spiked
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/14/anti-muslim-hate-crimes-surg
ed-last-year-fueled-hateful-campaign> . The trend of anti-Muslim hate
crimes
is ongoing
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/15/update-more-400-incidents-ha
teful-harassment-and-intimidation-election> , as mosques are set on fire
and
individuals attacked--six were killed at a mosque in Canada by a
self-identified Trump supporter
<http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/quebec-city-mosque-attack-susp
ect-known-for-right-wing-online-posts/article33833044/> .
Throughout 2015 and 2016, I watched with disbelief, apprehension, and
anxiety, as Trump's style of campaigning instigated fear and emboldened
xenophobes, anti-Semites, and Islamophobes. While cognizant of the
possibility of Trump winning, I hoped a majority of the electorate would
never condone such a hateful and divisive worldview.
During the campaign last February, Obama visited a Baltimore mosque and
reminded the public that "we're one American family, and when any part of
our family starts to feel separate . It's a challenge to our values." His
words would go unheeded by his successor.
The climate in 2016 felt like it did just after 9/11. What made it worse
was
that this fear and hatred were being fueled by Americans in positions of
power. Fifth-grade students at a local Sunday school where I volunteered
shared stories of being bullied by classmates and teachers, feeling like
they didn't belong here anymore, and asked if they might get kicked out of
this country if Trump won. I was almost hit by a car by a white man
laughing
as he drove by in a Costco parking lot, and on another occasion was
followed
out of the metro by a man screaming profanities: "Fuck you! Fuck Islam!
Trump will send you back!"
Then, on election night, I was left in shock.
The morning after the election, we lined up in the West Colonnade as Obama
stood in the Rose Garden and called for national unity and a smooth
transition. Trump seemed the antithesis of everything we stood for. I felt
lost. I could not fully grasp the idea that he would soon be sitting where
Obama sat.
I debated whether I should leave my job. Since I was not a political
appointee, but a direct hire of the NSC, I had the option to stay. The
incoming and now departed national security adviser, Michael Flynn, had
said
things like "fear of Muslims is rational." Some colleagues and community
leaders encouraged me to stay, while others expressed concern for my
safety.
Cautiously optimistic, and feeling a responsibility to try to help them
continue our work and be heard, I decided that Trump's NSC could benefit
from a colored, female, hijab-wearing, American Muslim patriot.
The weeks leading up to the inauguration prepared me and my colleagues for
what we thought would come, but not for what actually came. On Monday,
January 23, I walked into the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, with
the
new staffers there. Rather than the excitement I encountered when I first
came to the White House under Obama, the new staff looked at me with a cold
surprise. The diverse White House I had worked in became a monochromatic
and
male bastion.
The days I spent in the Trump White House were strange, appalling and
disturbing. As one staffer serving since the Reagan administration said,
"This place has been turned upside down. It's chaos. I've never witnessed
anything like it." This was not typical Republican leadership, or even that
of a businessman. It was a chaotic attempt at authoritarianism--legally
questionable executive orders, accusations of the press being "fake,"
peddling countless lies as "alternative facts," and assertions by White
House surrogates that the president's national security authority would
"not
be questioned."
The entire presidential support structure of nonpartisan national security
and legal experts within the White House complex and across federal
agencies
was being undermined. Decision-making authority was now centralized to a
few
in the West Wing. Frustration and mistrust developed as some staff felt out
of the loop on issues within their purview. There was no structure or clear
guidance. Hallways were eerily quiet as key positions and offices
responsible for national security or engagement with Americans were left
unfilled.
I might have lasted a little longer. Then came January 30. The executive
order banning travelers from seven Muslim-majority countries caused chaos,
without making America any safer. Discrimination that has existed for years
at airports was now legitimized, sparking mass protests, while the
president
railed against the courts for halting his ban. Not only was this
discrimination and un-American, the administration's actions defending the
ban threatened the nation's security and its system of checks and balances.
Alt-right writers, now on the White House staff, have claimed that Islam
and
the West are at war with each other. Disturbingly, ISIS also makes such
claims to justify their attacks, which for the most part target Muslims.
The
Administration's plans to revamp the Countering Violent Extremism program
to
focus solely on Muslims and use terms like "radical Islamic terror,"
legitimize ISIS propaganda and allow the dangerous rise of
white-supremacist
extremism to go unchecked.
Placing U.S. national security in the hands of people who think America's
diversity is a "weakness" is dangerous. It is false.
People of every religion, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, and
age pouring into the streets and airports to defend the rights of their
fellow Americans over the past few weeks proved the opposite is
true--American diversity is a strength, and so is the American commitment
to
ideals of justice and equality.
American history is not without stumbles, which have proven that the nation
is only made more prosperous and resilient through struggle, compassion and
inclusiveness. It's why my parents came here. It's why I told my former 5th
grade students, who wondered if they still belonged here, that this country
would not be great without them.
<http://e-max.it/posizionamento-siti-web/socialize>
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.
Rumana Ahmed, who worked in the White House as part of the Obama and Trump
administrations. (photo: Leah Varjaques/The Atlantic)
https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/02/rumana-ahmed-trump/5175
21/https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/02/rumana-ahmed-trump/5
17521/
I Was a Muslim in Trump's White House. I Lasted 8 Days.
By Rumana Ahmed, The Atlantic
23 February 17
When President Obama left, I stayed on at the National Security Council in
order to serve my country. I lasted eight days.
n 2011, I was hired, straight out of college, to work at the White House
and
eventually the National Security Council. My job there was to promote and
protect the best of what my country stands for. I am a hijab-wearing Muslim
woman--I was the only hijabi in the West Wing--and the Obama administration
always made me feel welcome and included.
Like most of my fellow American Muslims, I spent much of 2016 watching with
consternation as Donald Trump vilified our community. Despite this--or
because of it--I thought I should try to stay on the NSC staff during the
Trump Administration, in order to give the new president and his aides a
more nuanced view of Islam, and of America's Muslim citizens.
I lasted eight days.
When Trump issued a ban on travelers from seven Muslim-majority countries
and all Syrian refugees, I knew I could no longer stay and work for an
administration that saw me and people like me not as fellow citizens, but
as
a threat.
The evening before I left, bidding farewell to some of my colleagues, many
of whom have also since left, I notified Trump's senior NSC communications
adviser, Michael Anton, of my departure, since we shared an office. His
initial surprise, asking whether I was leaving government entirely, was
followed by silence--almost in caution, not asking why. I told him anyway.
I told him I had to leave because it was an insult walking into this
country's most historic building every day under an administration that is
working against and vilifying everything I stand for as an American and as
a
Muslim. I told him that the administration was attacking the basic tenets
of
democracy. I told him that I hoped that they and those in Congress were
prepared to take responsibility for all the consequences that would attend
their decisions.
He looked at me and said nothing.
It was only later that I learned he authored an essay under a pseudonym,
extolling the virtues of authoritarianism and attacking diversity
<http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/michael-anton-trump-essay-publius-deciu
s-mus_us_589ba947e4b09bd304bff3c8> as a "weakness," and Islam as
"incompatible with the modern West."
My whole life and everything I have learned proves that facile statement
wrong.
My parents immigrated to the United States from Bangladesh in 1978 and
strove to create opportunities for their children born in the states. My
mother worked as a cashier, later starting her own daycare business. My
father spent late nights working at Bank of America, and was eventually
promoted to assistant vice president at one of its headquarters. Living the
American dream, we'd have family barbecues, trips to Disney World,
impromptu
soccer or football games, and community service projects. My father began
pursuing his Ph.D., but in 1995 he was killed in a car accident.
I was 12 when I started wearing a hijab. It was encouraged in my family,
but
it was always my choice. It was a matter of faith, identity, and resilience
for me. After 9/11, everything would change. On top of my shock, horror,
and
heartbreak, I had to deal with the fear some kids suddenly felt towards me.
I was glared at, cursed at, and spat at in public and in school. People
called me a "terrorist" and told me, "go back to your country."
My father taught me a Bengali proverb inspired by Islamic scripture: "When
a
man kicks you down, get back up, extend your hand, and call him brother."
Peace, patience, persistence, respect, forgiveness, and dignity. These were
the values I've carried through my life and my career.
I never intended to work in government. I was among those who assumed the
government was inherently corrupt and ineffective. Working in the Obama
White House proved me wrong. You can't know or understand what you haven't
been a part of.
Still, inspired by President Obama, I joined the White House in 2011, after
graduating from the George Washington University. I had interned there
during my junior year, reading letters and taking calls from constituents
at
the Office of Presidential Correspondence. It felt surreal--here I was, a
22-year-old American Muslim woman from Maryland who had been mocked and
called names for covering my hair, working for the president of the United
States.
In 2012, I moved to the West Wing to join the Office of Public Engagement,
where I worked with various communities, including American Muslims, on
domestic issues such as health care. In early 2014, Deputy National
Security
Advisor Ben Rhodes offered me a position on the National Security Council
(NSC). For two and a half years I worked down the hall from the Situation
Room, advising President Obama's engagements with American Muslims, and
working on issues ranging from advancing relations with Cuba and Laos to
promoting global entrepreneurship among women and youth.
A harsher world began to reemerge in 2015. In February, three young
American
Muslim students were killed in their Chapel Hill home
<https://www.ted.com/talks/suzanne_barakat_islamophobia_killed_my_brother_le
t_s_end_the_hate/transcript?language=en> by an Islamophobe. Both the media
and administration were slow to address the attack, as if the dead had to
be
vetted before they could be mourned. It was emotionally devastating. But
when a statement was finally released condemning the attack and mourning
their loss, Rhodes took me aside to to tell me how grateful he was to have
me there and wished there were more American Muslims working throughout
government. America's government and decision-making should reflect its
people.
Later that month, the evangelist Franklin Graham declared that the
government had "been infiltrated by Muslims." One of my colleagues sought
me
out with a smile on his face and said, "If only he knew they were in the
halls of the West Wing and briefed the president of the United States
multiple times!" I thought: Damn right I'm here, exactly where I belong, a
proud American dedicated to protecting and serving my country.
Graham's hateful provocations weren't new. Over the Obama years, right-wing
websites spread an abundance of absurd conspiracy theories and lies,
targeting some American Muslim organizations and individuals--even those of
us serving in government. They called us "terrorists," Sharia-law
whisperers, or Muslim Brotherhood operatives. Little did I realize that
some
of these conspiracy theorists would someday end up in the White House.
Over the course of the campaign, even when I was able to storm through the
bad days, I realized the rhetoric was taking a toll on American
communities.
When Trump first called for a Muslim ban, reports of hate crimes against
Muslims spiked
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/14/anti-muslim-hate-crimes-surg
ed-last-year-fueled-hateful-campaign> . The trend of anti-Muslim hate
crimes
is ongoing
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/15/update-more-400-incidents-ha
teful-harassment-and-intimidation-election> , as mosques are set on fire
and
individuals attacked--six were killed at a mosque in Canada by a
self-identified Trump supporter
<http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/quebec-city-mosque-attack-susp
ect-known-for-right-wing-online-posts/article33833044/> .
Throughout 2015 and 2016, I watched with disbelief, apprehension, and
anxiety, as Trump's style of campaigning instigated fear and emboldened
xenophobes, anti-Semites, and Islamophobes. While cognizant of the
possibility of Trump winning, I hoped a majority of the electorate would
never condone such a hateful and divisive worldview.
During the campaign last February, Obama visited a Baltimore mosque and
reminded the public that "we're one American family, and when any part of
our family starts to feel separate . It's a challenge to our values." His
words would go unheeded by his successor.
The climate in 2016 felt like it did just after 9/11. What made it worse
was
that this fear and hatred were being fueled by Americans in positions of
power. Fifth-grade students at a local Sunday school where I volunteered
shared stories of being bullied by classmates and teachers, feeling like
they didn't belong here anymore, and asked if they might get kicked out of
this country if Trump won. I was almost hit by a car by a white man
laughing
as he drove by in a Costco parking lot, and on another occasion was
followed
out of the metro by a man screaming profanities: "Fuck you! Fuck Islam!
Trump will send you back!"
Then, on election night, I was left in shock.
The morning after the election, we lined up in the West Colonnade as Obama
stood in the Rose Garden and called for national unity and a smooth
transition. Trump seemed the antithesis of everything we stood for. I felt
lost. I could not fully grasp the idea that he would soon be sitting where
Obama sat.
I debated whether I should leave my job. Since I was not a political
appointee, but a direct hire of the NSC, I had the option to stay. The
incoming and now departed national security adviser, Michael Flynn, had
said
things like "fear of Muslims is rational." Some colleagues and community
leaders encouraged me to stay, while others expressed concern for my
safety.
Cautiously optimistic, and feeling a responsibility to try to help them
continue our work and be heard, I decided that Trump's NSC could benefit
from a colored, female, hijab-wearing, American Muslim patriot.
The weeks leading up to the inauguration prepared me and my colleagues for
what we thought would come, but not for what actually came. On Monday,
January 23, I walked into the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, with
the
new staffers there. Rather than the excitement I encountered when I first
came to the White House under Obama, the new staff looked at me with a cold
surprise. The diverse White House I had worked in became a monochromatic
and
male bastion.
The days I spent in the Trump White House were strange, appalling and
disturbing. As one staffer serving since the Reagan administration said,
"This place has been turned upside down. It's chaos. I've never witnessed
anything like it." This was not typical Republican leadership, or even that
of a businessman. It was a chaotic attempt at authoritarianism--legally
questionable executive orders, accusations of the press being "fake,"
peddling countless lies as "alternative facts," and assertions by White
House surrogates that the president's national security authority would
"not
be questioned."
The entire presidential support structure of nonpartisan national security
and legal experts within the White House complex and across federal
agencies
was being undermined. Decision-making authority was now centralized to a
few
in the West Wing. Frustration and mistrust developed as some staff felt out
of the loop on issues within their purview. There was no structure or clear
guidance. Hallways were eerily quiet as key positions and offices
responsible for national security or engagement with Americans were left
unfilled.
I might have lasted a little longer. Then came January 30. The executive
order banning travelers from seven Muslim-majority countries caused chaos,
without making America any safer. Discrimination that has existed for years
at airports was now legitimized, sparking mass protests, while the
president
railed against the courts for halting his ban. Not only was this
discrimination and un-American, the administration's actions defending the
ban threatened the nation's security and its system of checks and balances.
Alt-right writers, now on the White House staff, have claimed that Islam
and
the West are at war with each other. Disturbingly, ISIS also makes such
claims to justify their attacks, which for the most part target Muslims.
The
Administration's plans to revamp the Countering Violent Extremism program
to
focus solely on Muslims and use terms like "radical Islamic terror,"
legitimize ISIS propaganda and allow the dangerous rise of
white-supremacist
extremism to go unchecked.
Placing U.S. national security in the hands of people who think America's
diversity is a "weakness" is dangerous. It is false.
People of every religion, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, and
age pouring into the streets and airports to defend the rights of their
fellow Americans over the past few weeks proved the opposite is
true--American diversity is a strength, and so is the American commitment
to
ideals of justice and equality.
American history is not without stumbles, which have proven that the nation
is only made more prosperous and resilient through struggle, compassion and
inclusiveness. It's why my parents came here. It's why I told my former 5th
grade students, who wondered if they still belonged here, that this country
would not be great without them.
http://e-max.it/posizionamento-siti-web/socializehttp://e-max.it/posizioname
nto-siti-web/socialize
