Countless nights over the last few months, I have found myself pacing back and forth in my home, feeling utterly distraught by the amount of division the 2024 election has caused in my Muslim community.
I lived in Kenya until 2020. I remember waking up at night to help Somali refugees seeking better health care and education who had been arrested by police officers in Nairobi. I am no stranger to division and what it can cost us. My aunt was a small-business owner in Nairobi, constantly opening her home to people who needed help across ethnicities and backgrounds. She raised me and taught me it’s important to care for others and use our voices to address injustice.
Eventually, I moved to Minnesota to be closer to family and give my son a better life. My aunt’s lessons motivated me to get involved in my newfound community. Before I was even eligible to vote, I started translating election materials into Somali and encouraging people to be civically engaged.
I became a U.S. citizen in 2024, and I voted in my first election this week. When I considered voting in this election, I never imagined that people I care about would consider sitting out of it entirely. I never imagined that other East African men would gravitate toward a presidential candidate who propagates violence, hate and punishment toward Muslims and immigrants. I never imagined my community members would advise others against voting strategically in such a consequential election.
In the midst of all this, I think of my 5-year-old son. I think of the future I want for him — the Minnesota and the country I want him to grow up in. The thriving planet I want him to live on, the home I want him to be able to afford when he’s older, the education I want him to receive. The Islamophobic attacks I never want him to experience.
Then I think of those trying to spread fear about immigrants like us.
It’s no secret that many in my community are feeling a deep sense of confusion, powerlessness and despair about this election as the assault on Gaza continues. With so much focus on the presidential race, I worry we could lose sight of the impact we can have by participating in state and local elections.
Make no mistake: That’s right where the MAGA Republicans and the wealthy few want us. This is why I want to propose a better path forward for Muslim voters in Minnesota. A path where we build political power to hold elected leaders accountable for ending genocide in the Middle East and delivering on priorities for Muslim communities in Minnesota.
This path has no shortcuts. It starts with showing up, organizing and claiming our voices as voters this election — and it doesn’t end there.
But first, I want to empathize with my fellow Muslims wavering on whether or how to participate in this election. Many of us have been taught to see voting as nothing more than the declaration of our principles, our votes the ultimate indicator of the purity of our ethics, or lack thereof. In this logic, we are supposed to find candidates that we are in 100% agreement with — if such a thing even exists — then vote them into office. Once there, they will come to save us and our work will be over — or so the story goes.
With so much hand-wringing about perfect and imperfect candidates, it’s easy to forget who this election is really about.Â
Us.
You heard me. It’s about us. A few overcome with emotion may consider throwing away their votes. But we need to step into the political arena to make change and claim our power, not leave it behind. This election is about us showing up and shaping the political landscape from the bottom up, then building power to win the future we deserve. It was never about electing saviors who would do it all for us.
A few overcome with emotion may consider throwing away their votes. But we need to step into the political arena to make change and claim our power, not leave it behind.
As Minnesota voters in this election, we have the opportunity to not only reject fascism and Islamophobia at the federal level, but to make Minnesota a place where everyone can thrive, regardless of what we look like or where we come from. When we only focus on the top of the ticket, we limit our ability to create change where we live.
The proof is in our progress in Minnesota over the last few years. Muslim voters were pivotal to electing a DFL trifecta at the state level in 2022, which allowed us to accomplish great things in the 2023 legislative session. We invested an unprecedented $1 billion toward affordable housing; created the Department of Children, Youth and Families to address the issues our young people face, and passed universal school meals so that none of our children will ever have to learn on an empty stomach.
And still we know we have a long way to go. In an effort to organize my community this election and beyond, I’ve been having conversations with other Muslim voters about the moment we’re in.
I’ve spoken with a Somali mother of five who is worried about her oldest child using opioids and yearns for systemic solutions. I’ve listened to a group of imams who feel deep angst in their hearts about Gaza, yet also feel an urgent need to address Islamophobia here in Minnesota. Many of these people hadn’t heard about state legislative races, but once they learned, they were excited by the idea of making change happen locally.
This election, we have the opportunity to send DFL legislators to the Minnesota State Capitol so we can come together and fund programs for our youth and culturally relevant homes we can afford. We can elect leaders who will work with and for Muslim communities, like Abdi Daisane, who is running for office to address affordable housing, child care and education.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the aisle, MAGA politicians scapegoat us and spread Islamophobic narratives in an effort to erase the progress we’ve made together as Minnesotans. But as Muslims, we see through all of that noise. We want leaders who bring actual solutions to the problems we face.
We have a clear choice before us this November to defeat fascism and create a path forward where Muslims are at the table. It’s up to us, not the candidates. Together we can decide to move forward — not backward — up and down our ballots.Â
I feel the grief of my Muslim brothers and sisters unable to look away from the devastation on the news. I am one of the many people who worked hard to organize uncommitted voters in Minnesota’s Democratic presidential primary, sending a message to President Joe Biden alongside voters in other states about the need for a ceasefire.Â
Now more than ever, we must work toward a state and a world where everyone across race and place can be safe and live with dignity. This will feel different than sitting on the sidelines. It requires holding both pain and possibility in one single moment. But our strategic participation in the democratic process is a necessary first step.