When I was growing up in the Philadelphia area, every Muslim American I knew was African-American (either converts to Sunni Islam or adherents of the Nation of Islam, whose connection to mainstream Islam is controversial at best).
Years later, as a reporter covering the post 9/11 backlash against Muslims, Arabs and other perceived outsiders, I saw firsthand what happened when a climate of fear became combustible with xenophobia.
While Muslim Americans -- and other groups -- have for years contended with increased scrutiny and suspicion, at least in localized settings or from communities in which any non-white, non-Christian group is unwelcome, Donald Trump's comments earlier this week strike a much deeper, darker tone. They take us back to days when rampant xenophobia, systematic out-grouping, and outright hatred against any perceived outsider group had grave consequences for our society -- whether it was post-Reconstruction KKK terror attacks against blacks; discrimination against Chinese, Filipino, South Asian, Italian, and Irish immigrants (including the California Alien Land Law of 1913 and the Asian Exclusion of Act of 1924); anti-Semitism before and during World War II, and the shameful internment (and displacement) of Japanese-Americans during that period.
First off, Trump's proposal is nonsense and unconstitutional, so debating its merits is a waste of time. His calls to not only end Muslim immigration, but essentially "stop" Islam in America, is grounded in a dystopian fear that any perceived "new" arrival is an enemy (remember, Trumps also wants to build a wall on the U.S.-Mexico border).
Let's keep in mind that when nativists think Muslim, they conflate a religion with approximately 1.6 billion worldwide adherents to the Middle East (and perhaps Central and South Asia) without appreciating how ingrained Muslims have been in American society for decades (and centuries). It's more than Malcolm X. If you have rooted for sports, what about Muhammad Ali, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, or Shaquille O'Neal? What about the comedic stylings of Dave Chappelle? Islam was woven into hip-hop, with rappers like Q-Tip, Nas, Lupe Fiasco, and the entire Wu-Tang Clan (to name just a few) identifying as Muslims. Of course, contemporary pop stars such as Rita Ora and Zayn Malik (One Direction) are also Muslims, so would Trump keep them out, too?
Even for those who criticize that not enough is done by the Muslim-American community to prevent radicalization, the attacks in Paris and San Bernardino already affirmed a decades-long internal dialogue on how to combat elements of extremism from within. Intellectuals such as Reza Aslan, feminists such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali (whose own work is very controversial), and larger groups such as the Muslim Reform Movement (which is tied to conservative groups here in the United States) have all tried to bring to light internal discussions happening among sections of the very diverse, culturally, economically, philosophically, and politically heterogeneous Muslim American community.
Indeed, the conversations some Muslim Americans are facilitating involve addressing issues internal to some parts of the community (strains of anti-Semitism, animosity to groups such as Hindus and Ahmadiyyas, and homophobia), but these conversations aren't unique. Indeed, internal conversations are what every community -- faith, ethnicity and other -- have in order to grow collectively.
This is why giving weight to or analyzing recent rhetoric misses a bigger picture. What we more likely need as a society is to question whether Trump's comments -- and the complicity of U.S. media outlets to give him a platform to defend them -- speak to whether we are now willing to undermine what makes us American. If that is indeed the case, then we stand to tear down everything this country stands for, and in the process, lose sight of what has made this country unique: its ability to acclimate virtually every group into a shared social fabric.