But suddenly, something from the radio catches my attention. A name. “Imam Shaheed Jackson, from the Brookhaven Community Mosque, here with us today to discuss . . .”
I turn the volume up. “What is this?” Sophie asks.
“NPR.”
“Well, obviously—”
“I want to hear this. I think this guy was at the Jordan Rossum iftar.”
And for the rest of the ride to The Temple, Sophie and I don’t speak. We just listen.
“A new bill,” says Tammy Adrian, who’s hosting the segment, “introduced this morning by Republican state representative Ian Holden, calls for a partial ban on head and facial coverings while participating in certain public activities—including driving a car. Imam Jackson, thanks for coming on Real Talk. Tell me, what could legislation like this mean for the Muslim community here in Georgia?”
“Thank you, Tammy, for having me on. I think we’re still absorbing the implications of a bill like this. But what we do know is this: this bill is unnecessary. It is based in fear. And it’s yet another attempt by Republican lawmakers to limit the freedom of Muslim citizens to participate in the full range of daily life in this state and in this country.”
“Proponents of the bill—like state senate candidate Asa Newton, who tried unsuccessfully to push through a bill like this when he was a congressman years ago—argue this is not about any particular faith—it’s a safety measure barring facial and head coverings for all people. How would you respond to that?”
“We can pretend this bill doesn’t target Muslims, but we all saw that the language of the proposed bill, which was published this morning, uses the pronoun she exclusively. This law is designed to impact women wearing facial and head coverings.”
“Holden’s spokesperson did issue a statement saying it was a typo and nothing more.”
“More like something they forgot to hide before the bill was released.”
“It does indeed raise some questions about its intent,” says Tammy. “And what listeners may not know is that H.B. 28 is actually modeled after an existing bill that was introduced in the 1950s to protect Georgians from the Ku Klux Klan. But Holden’s proposed bill broadens the restrictions so they now disproportionately affect Muslim women. Newton was unsuccessful in passing the bill in the nineties, but he’s hopeful it may gain momentum now due to our current political climate.”
Sophie’s voice is soft. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “Wow.”
“. . . seen a spike in hate crimes,” Imam Jackson is saying. “And what a bill like this does—it flips the narrative. The reality is, here in Georgia, Muslim women are the victims of hate crimes. But they are not the aggressors. And yet the result of a bill like this . . .”
“Jamie, you’re about to pass The Temple.”
“Oh.” I make an abrupt right turn.
“. . . Doyle is a pragmatic Republican governor, and he’s stated he intends to veto H.B. 28. So the passage of this bill will depend on whether the GOP can override Doyle’s veto with supermajorities in both the House and the Senate. Since the GOP recently flipped the Thirty-Fourth Senate District, they just need to keep the Fortieth District red to get their supermajority,” Tammy is saying. “This is the seat recently vacated by Republican John Graham, who was elected to the US House of Representatives in a special election this February. Democratic candidate Jordan Rossum has already released a statement condemning this bill as an affront to the dignity and religious freedom of the Muslim community here in Georgia.”
“He’s absolutely right,” Imam Jackson says. “And these are the conversations we need to be having. What do we mean when we say we honor religious liberty? Who are we picturing in our minds at that moment?”
“It raises the stakes immensely for the upcoming special election,” Tammy says.
I park in the side lot of The Temple, staring straight ahead through the windshield. “Maya’s mom wears hijab.”
Sophie’s still curled up in the passenger seat, clutching her Hebrew school tote bag. “Everything’s going to be fine. People aren’t going to vote for Newton. He’s so racist.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Right.”
Sophie hugs me before she leaves, which is unusual, but suddenly I’m barely thinking of Sophie at all. Still parked by The Temple, I tug my phone out of its car charger. Before I can talk myself out of it, I text Maya. Just heard about the bill. You okay?
She writes back immediately: Um. Not really.
And then, a moment later: Hey, are you doing anything right now? Maybe you could come over or something.
I’m so busy entering her address into my GPS, I almost forget to write back.
Chapter Ten
Maya
Mom picks up on the first ring.
“I’m walking into a meeting. Everything okay?”
“No,” I tell her. “It most definitely isn’t.”
“What happened? I’ll tell Chris I need to duck out. I’ll be home in twenty.”
“No! The bill. Didn’t you hear about the law they’re trying to pass?”
“Oh, that.” She exhales. “Yes, I know about it.”
“Well? Aren’t you upset?”
“Of course I am. It’s infuriating.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“You are doing something. You’re canvassing.”
“Knocking on doors? This can’t wait until the election! We have to handle it now.”
“The board is meeting tonight to discuss next steps.”
“I’ll tell you the first step. Tell Newton to go fuck himself.”
“Maya. Language.”
“Sh—shoot.” I wince. “It’s just that he’s such a racist . . . armhole.”
“I promise I’ll keep you posted,” my mother says. “But trust me, we’ll make him sorry. They will not get away with it.”
I smile at the fire in her voice. No one’s telling her what she can and can’t wear.
“How’re things over there?” my mother asks. “The apartment shaping up okay?”
I stop smiling.
“It’s fine.”
“What’s the plan for iftar tonight?”
“Dad’s picking up pho after work.”
“Yum. Pho Dai Loi?”
“Yep.” I straighten. “I could tell him to pick up an extra order.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s Ramadan. Who wants to eat alone?”
“Aw, sweetie, you’re so thoughtful. But I won’t be by myself. We’re having that emergency board meeting tonight.” She pauses. “And now I really have to step into this meeting. Call you back after I’m done?”
“Sure.”
“Love you, Maya Papaya.”
“Love you too.”
We hang up and I look down at my phone’s wallpaper photo. It’s us three cheesing it up in front of the Grand Canyon last year. That was the summer we decided bunny ears were peak hilarity. Things were good on that trip. I’d have noticed if they weren’t.