Only an overarching institution answering to all Sikhs can enact such reforms. No individual person or nonprofit, however well-intentioned or competent, has the scale or consent to do so.
What does it mean for an average, middle-aged lady from Texas to embrace a Sikh man, and at the same time declare Muslims to be hell-bent on taking over America with "Siran"?
Things have apparently gotten so out of control that even after a Muslim man like Bashir Ahmad is victimized in such a horrific way, the take home message for the public is still that the Muslim is the aggressor, is suspicious, is a potential threat.
What is the major influence related to religious tensions crossing borders? Hint: It's about much more than a small church in Florida burning a Quran or a Danish magazine publishing cartoons of a revered prophet.
It is an excellent read. More importantly for me, though, it is the kind of book that I have dreamed about having the world's prominent authors write about: with Sikh characters and references, but as a normal, ordinary part of the narrative, not in the form of lectures and essays.
Stamps commemorating major religious holidays exist for Christmas, Hanukkah and Eid. However, one for Diwali, which is happening now, has yet to come to fruition.
The Sikh call to feed all who enter their house of worship is laudable and worth emulating. I would love to see Humanist communities adopt a similar model of outreach and solidarity.
1 in 10 Sikhs in California have reported being targeted for a hate crime.
We're in trouble. The nationwide desecration of mosques and the terrorizing of Sikhs in Milwaukee are symptoms of a larger problem. Determining the source of these symptoms has become an urgent and pressing need.
In the wake of the shootings of Sikh Americans in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, many Americans may silently wonder: If turbans mark Sikhs as targets for hate and violence, then why not take the turban off?
The gesture to embrace one another, especially to reach out to a community who is dealing with loss is something anyone of us can do, however we identify ourselves. Hatred is ultimately not going to win, it does not, cannot and will not.
As my eyes welled with tears on Sunday, I realized I wasn't quite sure why I was crying. Was I mourning the lost lives of people I never met? The attack on religious space, on the sacred? The hurt from Sunday was something that burned into my core.
That we now have reason to fear being in places formerly considered the most safe in the world -- houses of worship and movie theatres, not dark, lonely streets -- signifies we're at a terribly dangerous place.
What a difference a few hours make. Just this past weekend, on August 3rd and 4th, Hindu American Seva Charities (HASC) co-hosted a conference with t...
Sikh women, some with their turbans, some with their long hair in buns and braids, are perhaps less identifiable in this struggle against hate. But standing alongside their community, they have been equally impacted by the violence.
During that Sunday, we saw bridge being formed. The tragedies of this shooting occur at many levels. Of primary importance are the victims, survivors and the heroic police officers that risked their lives to stop this madman. They are in my prayers. On another level, it is also a tragedy that it took a mass murder to bring the Sikh community and their plight into the national discussion. This is where we find ourselves today.