Warming to the Process

Some East Germantown Muslims still abstain from American democracy, but one leader says that's changing.

by Jeff Deeney

the big thaw

It's not often that a white guy walks through the front door of the Islamic books and tapes shop in East Germantown. Even less frequently does that white guy ask questions about whom members of the nearby Masjid, or mosque, might be thinking about voting for in the upcoming primary election. Imagine a needle skipping off a record and everyone's head turning.

Yes, there was an air of suspicion among the men gathered in the shop — which was pretty understandable, considering the increase in recent years of domestic surveillance and the historically separatist nature of many black Muslim organizations. The young, bearded man in a Kufi-style skullcap who worked the register had a visceral-yet-tempered response to the question.

"Um, that's not something we're really interested in talking about," he said, measuring words and eyeing me intently. "We don't vote." He paused to formulate a more deliberate response. "We feel ... there are fundamental differences between our community and ... " He paused again, this time reconsidering the interaction altogether. "Let me direct you to someone who might speak to you." He gave me the phone number for Saadiq Abdul Jabbar, CEO and director of community outreach for the Germantown Masjid.

Abdul Jabbar is a substantial man, a broad, imposing figure in a traditional ankle-length tunic paired with baggy jeans and work boots. His long beard has a fiery rim of henna-dyed orange around its fringe, and he wears thick black eyeglass frames reminiscent of those Malcolm X wore. I met him and another Masjid member, Tunji Turner, in front of the bookstore. After initial assurances that my questions were motivated by genuine curiosity, Abdul Jabbar agreed to give a tour of the neighborhood.

He began with a history lesson. Twelve years ago, Islam took root in East Germantown; five or so faithful followers of the Quran moved into a burned-out and abandoned shell house on a blighted and treacherous stretch of Germantown Avenue and began building what would become the community's Masjid. The founders quickly went about growing their following, reaching out to the surrounding community, drawing converts, starting Muslim-owned businesses and becoming a visible presence on the streets in their distinctive garb. Over time, many nearby properties were rehabbed, including the dilapidated one adjacent to the Masjid. The Masjid expanded into this space, and eventually another location was added a few blocks west, where women could gather and take classes. Still further west, the bookstore opened.

About the somewhat terse response I received at the store, Abdul Jabbar says, "When someone in the Muslim community tells you, 'We don't vote,' they're coming from an old way of thinking. That really was the case; for a while we stayed away from voting, and some members still feel that way." He was alluding to the long history of separatism in the black Muslim world, dating back to the early Nation of Islam. "Things have changed a lot, though.

"We've become involved with a lot of different community activities over the years; I sit on the planning commission for the Wayne Junction SEPTA station rehabilitation effort, we work with the Wister NAC, the Germantown CDC and we talk with our city council members all the time."

We pulled into the parking lot of what looked like an old warehouse near Wayne Junction, which Abdul Jabbar says will soon be the Masjid's new space — 40,000 square feet, to accommodate the community's growing Muslim population. He explained that the Masjid makes decisions to participate in mainstream politics on a case-by-case basis.

"We have scholars who study the Quran," he says, "who determine what is and isn't appropriate for our community. If a politician's stance is in line with the teachings of the Quran, our scholars will let that be known...

"Take this citywide spring cleaning that happened yesterday; that's an initiative that a lot of different people, black and white, rich and poor, really got behind. And we did, too; ... We rented two backhoes and took away two 40-foot dumpsters worth of garbage." The Masjid felt the mayor's idea was in line with the teachings of the Quran because the text states that God loves those who keep themselves pure and clean.

Would the Masjid be interested in voting as a bloc for Barack Obama in the hopes of seeing the first President with black heritage?

Turner smiles at the question. "No, no," he says. "We don't participate politically along color lines." (Still, though Abdul Jabbar and Turner didn't endorse any candidate, Obama was the one repeatedly referenced during our conversation. Neither Clinton nor McCain's names were mentioned.)

One also wonders whether the community might be galvanized, politically, by anti-Muslim sentiment: the idea, pushed in some quarters after 9/11, that Islam is a religion of hate, a refuge for extremists.

Asked about this, Abdul Jabbar utters a phrase in Arabic, which he subsequently translates: "There is no might and there is no power except by Allah. In the end, it's not about what someone said about you, but how you lived, your principles. That kind of talk really doesn't concern us."

What does concern Abdul Jabbar and members of his Masjid is that their community has an Islam-centered education available. They want to teach people to worship Allah, and not money, women and other worldly things.

Abdul Jabbar says matter-of-factly, as if it's as plain as the nose on his face, that real change for his community won't come solely through participation in the political process.

"It all starts with teaching these people out here who their Lord is."

(j_deeney@citypaper.net)