Debunking Claims About “Sharia Law” in Texas Politics and Common Misconceptions

Recently, several Republican figures in Texas, including Keith Self, Chip Roy, John Cornyn, Brandon Gill and Ken Paxton, have raised alarms about the alleged threat of “Sharia law” to the United States. Some have even pointed to England as a cautionary example of what could happen if this supposed threat goes unchecked. However, a closer examination of these claims reveals a significant disconnect between the rhetoric and the realities of legal and religious practices.

What Drives These Claims?

Understanding the motives behind these claims is essential to grasping the broader context. Politicians exploit fears surrounding immigration, cultural change, and national identity to rally their voter base. By creating a narrative around “Sharia law,” they can position themselves as defenders of American values, appealing to those concerned about the perceived influence of Islam on American society. This strategy can elevate their political profiles and strengthen party loyalty, especially in a climate where fear of the “other” can drive voter turnout.

What Does “Sharia” Really Mean?

The term “Sharia” is often misrepresented as a rigid, monolithic legal code. In truth, it encompasses a wide-ranging religious framework within Islam that guides personal beliefs and practices. Interpretations of Sharia vary significantly, and for most American Muslims.

Claim 1: Sharia Is Replacing U.S. Law

Some politicians contend that Sharia could somehow supersede the American legal system.

The Truth: This claim is unfounded. The U.S. Constitution is the supreme law of the land, meaning that no religious system, be it Islamic, Christian, or any other, can be enforced if it contradicts constitutional rights. Religious principles can be applied only in a limited and voluntary context, and they must always comply with U.S. law. There is no evidence to suggest that Sharia is replacing American law anywhere in the country.

Claim 2: Muslim Communities Are Creating “Sharia Enclaves”

Some statements suggest that places like the East Plano Islamic Center (EPIC) are functioning as separate legal systems.

The Truth: This is a misconception. Mosques and Islamic centers do not have legal authority and cannot enforce laws. They operate much like any other place of worship, offering services such as religious education, charity, and community support, similar to churches and synagogues throughout the U.S.

Claim 3: Concerns About “EPIC City”

In a speech on the House floor in March 2026, Keith Self expressed worries about the concept of “EPIC City,” associated with the East Plano Islamic Center. He raised concerns about financial systems like interest-free loans, free clinics, and social services, suggesting they are somehow separate or incompatible with American norms.

The Truth: Interest-free financing is a legal financial model, known as Islamic finance, and is not inherently incompatible with U.S. laws. Such models exist in various communities and even in mainstream banking. Additionally, free clinics and mutual aid efforts are commonplace among many religious and community organizations, not just Islamic ones. Claims regarding missing or isolated Muslim women have not been substantiated by credible evidence, and law enforcement has not identified any concerning patterns associated with EPIC.

Claim 4: England’s “Sharia Takeover”

Some claims indicate that England is experiencing a shift toward Sharia law taking over national law.

The Truth: England does not implement Sharia law within its legal framework. The laws there are established by Parliament and enforced by state courts. While Sharia councils exist, they operate as voluntary religious bodies addressing personal matters like divorce, without any legal authority to override existing British law. The UK government maintains full control of its legal system.

Claim 5: Religious Arbitration Is Unique to Islam

Some narratives suggest that arbitration practices based on Sharia represent a foreign intrusion into the U.S. legal system.

The Truth: In reality, religious arbitration is a common practice across various faiths in the United States. For example, Jewish communities may use beth din courts for resolving disputes based on Jewish law. These systems are voluntary and their decisions are enforceable only if they align with U.S. law. This is similar to Islamic arbitration practices, which also operate within the same legal framework.

Why Do These Claims Persist?

Experts explain that narratives surrounding Sharia often surface during political debates about immigration and national identity. By referencing England or local institutions, these claims can:

• Intensify fears around cultural shifts

• Mistakenly conflate religious observance with legal power

• Overlook the complexities of these issues

The Bottom Line

• The U.S. Constitution safeguards against any religious law superseding U.S. law.

• Organizations like the East Plano Islamic Center act as standard religious institutions.

• Allegations about “EPIC City” and related concerns lack verified evidence.

• England/Europe does not operate under Sharia law.

• Different religious arbitration systems exist across faiths and are fully subject to U.S. law.

By carefully evaluating legal frameworks and the evidence available, it becomes clear that a significant gap exists between political discourse and reality. Recognizing this distinction is crucial for fostering informed public dialogue.

I recently came across statements made by a candidate for Mayor of Frisco on a podcast that concerned me. Not because I am easily offended, and not because political disagreements are new, but because of what those words represent for the kind of city we are becoming.

Frisco is not just where I live. It is where my family built its life, where my child grew up before heading off to college, and where I have spent years working with others to serve and strengthen our community. I have seen firsthand how people from different backgrounds, different faiths, cultures, and professions have come together here to build something special.

That is what makes this moment different.

Frisco is a city people chose because it felt safe, welcoming, and full of possibilities. That didn’t happen by accident — it happened because we built trust with one another.

When entire communities, whether Indian, Muslim, or anyone else, are spoken about in a way that creates fear or suspicion, it does more than offend. It changes how neighbors start to see each other. It chips away at trust.

I also understand that, for some, the fear of Muslims comes from what they see or hear in the news. But the reality of who we are is far simpler. We are families who came to this country for the same reasons so many others did. For opportunity, stability, and a better future for our children. We go about our daily lives just like anyone else. We work, raise our families, volunteer, and try to contribute positively to the communities we are part of.

We follow the law of the land and respect the Constitution. We have no desire to impose our beliefs on anyone. Like most people, we simply want to live in peace, practice our faith, and give back to the society that has given us so much.

That is the Frisco I know.

We can disagree on policy. We can debate taxes, development, education, and the direction of our city. That is healthy. But there is a line between debating ideas and labeling people. When rhetoric shifts from issues to entire communities, it moves us away from disagreement and toward division.

And that matters even more when it comes from someone seeking to lead our city.

A mayor is not just managing budgets or infrastructure. A mayor sets the tone. They influence how safe people feel, how welcome families feel, and how our children learn to see those who are different from them.

Frisco’s growth did not happen by accident. People chose this city as their home. They invested here. They opened businesses, joined schools, volunteered, and built places of worship. They became neighbors.

That kind of growth depends on trust. And trust is fragile.

If we allow public discourse to normalize broad generalizations about entire groups, we risk eroding that trust. Not overnight, but slowly. And once that trust is gone, it is much harder to rebuild.

As someone who believes deeply in both my faith and the values of this country, I also believe in responsibility in how we speak. The Constitution protects our freedom of speech. But leadership is not just about what you are allowed to say, it is about what you choose to say, and the impact it has.

We do not have to agree on everything to coexist. We will not. But we do have to agree on one basic standard: our neighbors should not be reduced to labels or treated as threats because of who they are.

This is not about one individual. It is about the standard we set for leadership in Frisco.

We have built a city that many people are proud to call home. The responsibility now is to protect what makes it strong.

Frisco deserves leadership that brings people together and reflects the values of a diverse and growing community.

Because in the end, the kind of leadership we accept will shape the kind of city we become.

Frisco is a city people chose because it felt safe, welcoming, and full of possibility. That didn’t happen by accident — it happened because we built trust with one another.

Now we need leadership that protects that trust.

Frisco deserves a mayor who brings people together and reflects the values of a diverse, growing community. Because the leadership we choose will shape the city we become. We have worked too hard, for too long, to let fear‑based rhetoric undo the trust that built this city. Frisco’s strength has always come from its people — all of them.

Leadership should honor that.

Frisco became strong because we chose community over fear. We can’t afford to lose that. Frisco deserves someone who unites, not divides. Someone who understands that every family here belongs.

The standard we set now will define the future our children inherit.

This moment demands leadership that lifts people up, not pushes them apart. The kind of leadership we accept today will decide the kind of city we live in tomorrow.

Muhammed Azfar Saeed is a Frisco resident.

As Ramadan comes to an end, young Muslims across Texas are marking the close of a month defined by fasting, reflection, and community. But this year, the final days of the holy month carry a deeper resonance — a quiet, steady optimism forged in the shadow of political rhetoric that has too often cast them as outsiders in the very state they call home.

For months, Texas politicians have sharpened their focus on Islam, turning Muslim identity into a talking point rather than a lived reality. The result has been predictable: students questioned in classrooms, youth organizations scrutinized, and entire communities made to feel suspect. Yet in these last days of Ramadan, when lanterns still glow in mosque courtyards and the echoes of shared iftars linger, what emerges is something far more powerful than fear.

You encounter dignity.

These teenagers and college students have grown up in a Texas that is far more diverse, interconnected, and curious than the one imagined in political speeches. They sit next to classmates who celebrate Diwali, Lunar New Year, and Easter. They volunteer at food banks, tutor younger students, and run student councils. They are as Texan as Friday night football and as American as the Constitution that promises them equal belonging.

And they are tired — not defeated, but tired — of being spoken about rather than spoken to.

Yet as Ramadan draws to a close, they are choosing a different response. Not retreat. Not resentment. But a kind of grounded hope shaped by thirty days of discipline, generosity, and self-restraint — a hope that refuses to let political noise drown out the truth of who they are.

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This is not naïveté. It is courage.

It takes courage for a 16‑year‑old to explain her hijab to a classroom primed to misunderstand it. It takes courage for a young man to keep showing up to school board meetings where his community is framed as a threat. It takes courage to celebrate publicly when celebration itself has become politicized.

And throughout Ramadan, they did.

Because Ramadan, at its heart, is about returning to what is essential: humility, generosity, and the belief that light is most visible in darkness. As the month ends, these young Muslims leave behind an example of what it looks like to live those values with consistency and grace — an example that should make the rest of Texas pause.

The question is not whether they belong. They do — fully, historically, and unequivocally. The question is whether Texas will choose to see them as they see themselves: not as symbols in a culture war, but as young people striving to build a future rooted in dignity.

As the final fasts are broken and the last Ramadan prayers are whispered into the warm Texas night, these young Muslims offer the state a gift it desperately needs: a reminder that hope is not passive. It is practiced. It is chosen. It is lived.

And as Ramadan draws closer to an end, they carry that hope forward — not because the world around them has suddenly grown easier, but because their faith has taught them that resilience itself is an act of worship.

Texas would do well to learn from their example

Edwin Naidu is the Managing Editor of Context-Corner. Share your Ramadan stories of hope with us via email: editor@context-corner.com

Islamophobic rhetoric in U.S. political discourse is not occurring in a vacuum. It is unfolding in a country where hate-motivated violence against Muslims, Sikhs, and South Asian communities has repeatedly followed periods of inflammatory speech. History shows a troubling pattern: when political actors cast entire communities as threats, online hostility often escalates into real-world harm.

Recent claims about a so-called “sharia caucus” underscore how quickly misinformation can harden into a narrative with dangerous implications. The phrase has no factual basis, yet it has long been used to cast Muslim Americans as infiltrators or extremists. Civil rights groups warn that such language encourages audiences to view their neighbors not as fellow citizens, but as ideological enemies. In a polarized election cycle, that framing becomes especially combustible.

The risks are not theoretical. The past decade offers stark reminders of how anti-Muslim and anti-South Asian sentiment can turn deadly. In 2012, a white supremacist stormed a Sikh gurdwara in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, killing six worshippers after consuming online content portraying South Asians as enemies of America. In 2019, a gunman in Christchurch, New Zealand, murdered 51 people at two mosques after immersing himself in conspiracy theories about Muslim “takeovers.” Even when attackers claim other motives, families and communities often point to a broader climate of dehumanization that made such violence imaginable.

These attacks share a common thread: the flattening of identity. To someone radicalized by hate, a Sikh man in a turban, a Muslim woman in a hijab, or a South Asian student walking home from school can become interchangeable targets. That dynamic is resurfacing today in communities far from national political stages. In Frisco, Texas, members of the Indian and South Asian community report a surge in online hostility, including posts that conflate them with extremist groups or accuse them of hidden political agendas. Parents describe children being taunted at school, while business owners say they have received anonymous threats. The rhetoric may begin with Muslims, but its impact radiates across communities perceived—often incorrectly—as part of the same group.

Three high-profile incidents highlight what can happen if political leaders do not address hate and Islamophobia.

2015 Chapel Hill Shooting

On February 10, 2015, Deah Shaddy Barakat, Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, and Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha were killed in their home in Finley Forest Condominiums on Summerwalk Circle in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, United States.

Barakat was a second-year student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill School of Dentistry; his wife, Yusor, was a North Carolina State University (NCSU) graduate planning to enter UNC Dentistry School in the fall; and her sister, Razan, was a student at NCSU majoring in architecture and environmental design.

Their neighbor, Craig Stephen Hicks, who killed the three people in a single attack, turned himself in to Chapel Hill police later that day and was arrested. Hicks was charged with three counts of first-degree murder. On February 16, Hicks was indicted by a Durham County grand jury on three counts of first-degree murder and one count of discharging a firearm into an occupied dwelling. The Federal Bureau of Investigation and the United States Department of Justice also launched their own investigations into the shooting. The trial was scheduled for the summer of 2019. On June 12, 2019, Hicks pleaded guilty to the murders and was sentenced to three consecutive terms of life imprisonment. This incident raised serious concerns about anti-Muslim hate and its deadly consequences.

Murder of Wadea al-Fayoume

On October 14, 2023, six-year-old Palestinian American Wadea al-Fayoume was murdered in Plainfield Township, Illinois. The attack, considered a hate crime, highlighted the dangers of inflammatory rhetoric during times of global conflict. 71-year-old Joseph Czuba murdered the little boy in Plainfield Township, Illinois, United States. His mother, Hanaan Shahin, was also stabbed and throttled, leaving her critically injured. The murder was a hate crime motivated by Islamophobia and anti-Palestinianism, and an extremist reaction to the contemporaneous Gaza war. Czuba, who was Shahin’s landlord, was arrested and charged with five counts. His trial was February 24–28, 2025. He was convicted of all charges, including murder and hate crimes. On May 2, 2025, he was sentenced to 53 years in prison.^[3] Czuba died in prison on July 24, 2025.

Assault of a 7-year-old Muslim Girl in Detroit

A seven-year-old Yemeni-American Muslim girl in Detroit was attacked in what has been labelled a hate crime. According to news reports, Saida Mashra was playing in a busy park near her home when a 73-year-old white man, Gary Lansky, approached her without warning, lifted her head and sliced her throat with a knife. Saida ran home and was taken to the hospital, where she received treatment and was released. The assailant was arraigned on two separate charges the following day in Detroit’s 36^th District Court. This incident underscores growing hostility facing Muslim children in the U.S.

What must politicians do now?

Political leaders play a critical role in interrupting this cycle. Analysts note that Democratic officials, while often vocal on issues of racial justice, have been slower in recent months to confront rising Islamophobic narratives. Their silence leaves room for misinformation to spread unchecked. At the same time, Republican leadership faces its own test: whether it will draw clear boundaries against rhetoric that paints entire religious or ethnic groups as suspects. Historically, bipartisan condemnation has been one of the most effective tools for de-escalating hate-fuelled narratives. When only one side speaks, the message loses force.

The stakes extend beyond electoral politics. Communities under threat report a growing sense of vulnerability—feeling watched, judged, or blamed for global events beyond their control. Faith leaders warn that the erosion of trust between neighbors is itself a form of harm, even before violence occurs. Researchers tracking hate crimes note that online harassment often precedes physical attacks by months, not days. The warning signs are visible long before the headlines.

A responsible political response requires more than statements of solidarity. It demands rejecting conspiracy-driven language, committing to accuracy, and recognizing that words from public figures carry weight far beyond their intended audiences. The lessons of Oak Creek, Christchurch, and countless smaller incidents are clear: when communities are demonized, violence becomes more likely. When leaders speak with clarity and restraint, the temperature drops.

In light of these escalating incidents—from Chapel Hill to Plainfield to Detroit—the urgency of political action cannot be overstated. Silence from leaders, whether Democrat or Republican, does not create neutrality; it creates a vacuum in which hate can grow unchecked.

At a moment when inflammatory rhetoric spreads rapidly online and vulnerable communities, including children, face rising risk, moral clarity is essential. Both major parties must reject fear-based narratives, condemn hate unequivocally, and remind the country that targeting any community undermines the safety and values of all. History shows that when leaders speak out early and forcefully, the temperature drops—and lives can be saved.

Evidently, the Republicans are looking desperate to get their MAGA base out to vote, and the only option they are seeing is stoking Muslim-hate, which is a very low point in politics. One senses that a real fear of defeat in the 2026 congressional elections in November is driving this rhetoric.

Unfortunately, when there’s weakness at the polls, there appears to be strength through fear. The rhetoric has real‑time consequences, including death threats and a measurable spike in online hate.

Republican leadership has not intervened, despite calls from civil rights groups. This silence contrasts with the urgency of the moment and reinforces your argument that political leaders must act before violence escalates further.

The question is no longer whether the danger is real, but whether those in power will act with the urgency this moment demands.

Edwin Naidu is the Managing Editor of Context-Corner.

In recent months, a group of Republican lawmakers - Keith Self, Chip Roy, Randy Fine, and Brandon Gill - have amplified rhetoric about a so-called “Sharia caucus” in Washington.

The phrase is inflammatory, culturally loaded, and politically convenient. But it is also a distraction, diverting public attention from the real crises facing the United States.

At a time when Americans are struggling with affordability, historic national debt, institutional corruption, and global moral failures, these lawmakers have chosen culture-war spectacle over serious governance.

Follow the Money, Not the Rhetoric

All four figures have benefited from political support aligned with AIPAC or its affiliated donor networks — one of the most powerful foreign-policy lobbying forces in American politics. That support is legal, normalized, and bipartisan. But it is not neutral.

When lawmakers aggressively frame Muslims or Islamic concepts as existential threats, while remaining silent or defensive about U.S. foreign policy that results in mass civilian suffering abroad, it raises legitimate questions about whose interests are being prioritized.

This is not “America First.” It is influence politics dressed up as patriotism.

The Real Crises Americans Face

While politicians rail against imaginary enemies, Americans are confronting realities that demand attention:

• Affordability: Housing, healthcare, insurance, childcare, and food costs are crushing working families. There is no serious legislative agenda from these lawmakers addressing cost-of-living relief at scale.

• National Debt: The U.S. national debt has surpassed $34 trillion, yet fiscal responsibility is selectively invoked — loudly against social programs, quietly ignored when funding foreign conflicts.

• The Epstein Files: Public trust continues to erode as politically connected elites appear insulated from accountability. Calls for transparency are met with silence.

• Illegal immigration: Addressing the crisis requires enforcing the law and fixing a broken immigration system so it is orderly, humane and aligned with economic and security realities.

Instead of grappling with these issues, lawmakers push fear-based narratives about Islam — a religion practiced peacefully by millions of American citizens who serve as doctors, soldiers, teachers, and first responders.

Weaponizing Fear to Avoid Accountability

The “Sharia caucus” narrative is effective precisely because it is vague. It does not require evidence. It does not require policy solutions. It only requires outrage.

By manufacturing an internal cultural enemy, politicians avoid scrutiny of:

• Their donor dependencies

• Their foreign policy alignment

• Their lack of economic solutions

• Their unwillingness to challenge entrenched power

This is not conservative governance. It is performative politics.

Not America First — Power First

If “America First” meant anything substantive, it would prioritize:

• American workers over defense contractors

• Transparency over donor influence

• Fiscal responsibility over endless war

• Civil liberties over religious scapegoating

Instead, what we see is selective populism — loud toward minorities, deferential toward power.

That is not a defense of American democracy. It is a distortion of it.

Dr Taha Ansari MD of Context-Corner.

It has become undeniably clear that a new moral panic about Muslims is spreading across the United States. From Appalachian mining towns to the group chats of centibillionaire oligarchs, people fearmonger about the increasing presence of Muslims in American society.

Much like the Islamophobia of the Bush era and Donald Trump’s first term, this wave is based on an underlying fear of Islam’s perceived incompatibility with American values and fictional horror stories of jihad.

While new aspects have emerged, including discussions about the perceived genetic and intellectual inferiority of people from Muslim countries that harken back to this country’s dark legacy of racism, most Islamophobia in Trump’s second term looks identical to that of 20 years ago. The fear of the hijab, the anxiety that a terrorist lurks behind a beard, the smoking image of the Twin Towers, and migrant caravans filled with ‘fighting-aged males’ ready to conquer and pillage.

But this is not a trope unique in American history. Even a century before the US was founded, many colonies engaged in heavy religious discrimination. Rhode Island was not founded by Puritans fleeing persecution in Britain, but by ministers expelled from Massachusetts for preaching against the church-state orthodoxy.

The Quakers also faced severe persecution, with many members hanged on the streets of Boston. Even the Founding Fathers weren’t immune to the fear of immigrants with different cultures; Benjamin Franklin once warned of “swarthy” Germans migrating to the colonies.

However, no religious group was as feared as the Catholics. Many colonies that formed the United States were established specifically to escape what they saw as the corrupt, Catholic-leaning practices of the Anglican Church. Maryland was founded as a haven for Catholic immigrants, but even there, they were overthrown by the Protestant population, and the religion was banned until the American Revolution. In the 18th century, this fear took on a military dimension. British colonists felt surrounded, with France to the North and West and Spain to the South. After the British wiped out the French presence in North America, the colonies feared the political freedom given to Catholics, with protestors in New York waving flags exclaiming “No Popery”.

Although the American Revolution improved freedom for Catholics, heavy discrimination continued, particularly because new immigrants were no longer coming from England but from the heavily Catholic regions of Ireland, Germany, and Italy. The Know Nothing Party gained prominence in the mid-1800s, with politicians like former President Millard Fillmore and famous inventor Samuel Morse joining the secretive party dedicated to xenophobia against the Catholic immigrant population. Deadly riots occurred throughout the Northeast, resulting in the burning of convents and the killing of many immigrants.

In the early 20th century, these immigrant groups, marginalized by the dominant Protestant population, turned to crime and corruption. Gangs of Irishmen ran the New York City underworld, and Italian mobsters like Al Capone became iconic. This criminality was used by nativists to justify further discrimination, creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. Media caricatures depicted the Irish as ape-like drunkards and Italians as violent, knife-wielding anarchists. It was a time when “Help Wanted” signs frequently ended with N.I.N.A.: No Irish Need Apply.

Perhaps the most extreme manifestation of anti-Catholic bigotry was the “Pope in the White House” conspiracy theory. Emerging in the 1870s just as the Papacy was confined to Vatican City, agitators claimed the Pope would take over the United States and rule it as a theocracy. The most extreme version claimed American Catholics would dig a tunnel from the Vatican to the US, traveling underneath the Atlantic Ocean, a feat impossible even by today’s technology.

Yet this conspiracy theory had real power. The KKK spread it across the country during the 1920s; the “Second Klan” was an anti-Catholic and anti-Semitic organization boasting millions of members. This moral panic flipped elections. The 1928 election saw the first Catholic major-party nominee, Democratic candidate Al Smith. As Governor of New York, he posed in front of newly excavated railway tunnels, which some claimed were evidence that he had dug the transatlantic tunnels. Many claimed his loss to Herbert Hoover was due to his Catholic faith. It took another 32 years for this stigma to fade enough for John F. Kennedy to be elected. Even then, Kennedy had to humiliate himself before the Greater Houston Ministerial Association, explicitly stating he would not take orders from the Pope, effectively asking permission from the Protestant establishment to serve his country.

But what would the world look like if the racists of the past had their way? Consider the railroads that transformed the US into an industrial superpower, built largely by Irish immigrants. Consider the Italians, once derided as dangerous anarchists, who eventually formed the backbone of American cuisine. Consider the Polish, Hungarian, and Lithuanian immigrants who filled the steel mills of the Rust Belt, forging the tanks and ships that defeated fascism in World War II.r

The end stage of assimilation, however, is joining the in-group in the bigotry they peddle. In this generation of the American right, Catholicism has been welcomed as a pillar of traditionalism. Jack Posobiec, an open white nationalist with ties to the MAGA movement, demanded democracy be destroyed while waving a Rosary. Matt Walsh, a self-described ‘theocratic fascist’, drums up outrage toward minority groups. The Neo-Nazi Nick Fuentes is a hardcore Catholic who fears mongers about Jewish influence. Perhaps the biggest example is Catholic billionaire Peter Thiel, an open opponent of democracy itself, who funded the career of an Appalachian man now a heartbeat away from the presidency: the Catholic Vice President, JD Vance.

This shift makes the parallels between yesterday’s anti-Catholicism and today’s Islamophobia striking. The modern charge that Muslims possess a ‘dual loyalty’ to the Ummah or Sharia Law is a direct descendant of the charge that Catholics owed allegiance to the Pope over the President. The fear that Muslim neighbourhoods are no-go zones breeding insurrection mirrors the panic over ghettoised Irish slums. The claim that Islam is incompatible with Western democracy is identical to the delusions that Catholics were planning to install the pope in the White House.

Ultimately, xenophobia is a fire that takes money and attention to fuel. If those stoking the fire encounter another crisis, it will subside. Islamophobia comes in waves. The period from 2020 to the start of the war in Gaza saw panic about Islam driven to the back of the Conservative grievance list, replaced by panics over vaccines, the 2020 election, ‘Critical Race Theory’, and transgender people. It reached the point where many Muslims supported protests against LGBT issues in schools. However, after Hamas broke through the walls of Gaza, the fear of Islam became a fire worth fueling again.

The wheels of American assimilation will always turn. One day, Muslim-American influencers will barge into immigrant businesses to drum up moral panics. One day, American Muslims will be on talk shows, fearmongering about the cultures and races of people that certain wings of American society dislike.

And they will be wrong.

Yameen Ahmed is a software developer from Frisco with a deep interest in global affairs.

Dallas–Fort Worth, TX – Tucked between the tech corridors of Plano, the cultural diversity of Irving, and the serene suburbs of Frisco and McKinney, a quiet but profound impact is taking root in North Texas. It’s the story of the DFW Muslim community- families who came seeking opportunity and now stand among the Metroplex’s most engaged and active contributors, entrepreneurs, and neighbors.

From Growth to Giving, A Community Rooted in Service

Since 2005, the Dallas–Fort Worth metro area has seen its population more than double. Alongside that growth, the Muslim community has expanded proportionately—now numbering in the tens of thousands across Collin, Dallas, Denton, and Tarrant counties. But this growth isn’t just demographic—it’s cultural, civic, and deeply values-driven. At the heart of this community lies a tradition of giving and volunteerism.

Mosques as Community Anchors

Across North Texas, mosques have evolved into vibrant hubs of civic life. More than just places of worship, they are critical institutions that foster public service, neighborhood well-being, and interfaith collaboration.

In Plano, both the West Plano Center (IACC) and the East Plano Center (EPIC) support over 3,000 families and host one of Collin County’s largest food pantries, while also supporting year-round volunteer mobilization. EPIC and IACC’s services extend far beyond their congregations— from school supply drives to providing shelter and meals during extreme weather events.

In Richardson, the Islamic Association of North Texas (IANT) runs a free medical clinic, a full-time K–12 academy, and an expansive interfaith program.

Valley Ranch Islamic Center (VRIC) and the Islamic Center of Irving (ICI) regularly partner with churches, synagogues, and city organizations on initiatives ranging from hunger relief to refugee resettlement.

Equally impactful mosques in Frisco, McKinney, and Allen offer classes, career readiness workshops, and youth mentorship. In South Dallas, Masjid Al-Islam and Irving Masjid lead racial equity programs, housing advocacy, and neighborhood revitalization efforts in historically underserved areas.

Collectively, in just the past year, DFW mosques have distributed over $5 million in local charity, impacting tens of thousands of lives across lines of faith, ethnicity, and income. Their work supports local hospitals, food banks, schools, and families in crisis—offering help to all with both dignity and hope.

Economic Contributions That Benefit Everyone

The DFW Muslim community’s economic footprint is as significant as it is underrecognized. Since 2010, Muslim-owned businesses and investments have generated thousands of jobs and provided critical services across North Texas.

In cities like Plano and Richardson, Muslim-led tech startups, financial firms, and IT Consultancies fuel the region’s innovation economy. In Frisco, McKinney, and Irving, community-based businesses—from halal markets and urgent care clinics to boutique law offices—have created not only economic opportunities for all, but also culturally inclusive spaces that reflect the Metroplex’s diversity.

Conservative estimates place the number of jobs created by Muslim-owned businesses in the region in the thousands. These span industries such as healthcare, logistics, real estate, education, and hospitality, and contribute millions of dollars in local and state taxes annually.

In the last five years, Muslim philanthropists and entrepreneurs have directed millions of dollars into urban development, business, and education, including the establishment of business incubators, schools, and community centers that serve as shared assets for all residents.

At a time when division often makes headlines, DFW stands apart—with a thriving model of shared prosperity, inclusive growth, and strong community spirit. As North Texas rises as a cultural and economic powerhouse, the DFW Muslim community is not just participating— It is actively contributing to this progress. Through a quiet strength and a commitment to good, they are helping build a future defined by inclusion, opportunity, and shared success.

· Mr. Faruqi is a Senior Technology Professional and a resident observer of the DFW community for the last 2 decades.

In our modern world, we often speak of mental health in terms of stress, burnout, anxiety, and depression. Clinicians try to analyze this from a scientific perspective, such as measuring brain chemistry, analyzing neurotransmitters, social determinants, and prescribing medications or therapy. While it is beneficial to seek these modern treatments, they provide value. What remains overlooked is the spiritual dimension of human experience.

To fully heal, we must look not only at the mind and body but also at our soul. Faith traditions have long understood that the meaning, purpose, and connection to something greater than oneself are fundamental to emotional resilience and inner peace.

The Quran and the Bible both reference spirituality as the key to finding peace.

Quran 13:28 states that comfort and peace can be found in the remembrance of Allah (God), especially for those who believe and whose hearts are at rest through this remembrance.

Quran 12:86 states that Prophet Yaqub (Jacob) said, “I only complain of my suffering and my grief to Allah, and I know from Allah that which you do not know”. This verse emphasizes his submission to God’s will and his knowledge that Allah has a plan that his sons are unaware of.

(Philippians 4:6-7) “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

People with a strong sense of spiritual practice and faith often experience lower levels of anxiety, greater emotional stability, and better coping mechanisms in times of loss. Faith provides us not only comfort but also structure, community, and moral grounding. All of which enhance mental resilience. When people connect with faith, prayer, or meditation, they often feel anchored.

Anchoring is a mental process in which our initial beliefs or perspectives shape how we interpret everything else. When deeply rooted, faith serves as a positive psychological anchor. When anchored in belief in God, we interpret challenges not as punishment but as opportunities for growth.

The stories of the prophets show us that mental and emotional suffering is often a pathway to spiritual maturity. What we face in our daily lives, the prophets have endured much worse. Jesus faced an emotional challenge of rejection and loneliness, Jacob faced the challenge of chronic suffering, Moses faced the challenge of anxiety and self-doubt, Jacob faced a challenge of loss and sadness, and Muhammad faced a challenge of grief and rejection. The prophets’ Hardships teach us that every trial is an opportunity for us to strengthen our faith, restrain our thoughts, and grow into the fullness of who God created us to be.