The taxonomy of hate is useful, because it helps you figure out what kind of haters you’re

dealing with and whether you should make an attempt at bringing them in the fold,
whether they’re too far gone to bother with, or whether you’re crossing that fine line
between reaching out and goading.

I did cross this line once. The goal of The Muslims Are Coming! was to make ourselves
available to people who were curious about Muslims. To stop them in their tracks in the
middle of their daily lives, offer them pastries, and engage. We did this quite effectively
by setting up an Ask a Muslim booth in the middle of town squares. People asked us
questions, or they hurried by, or they were so intrigued by the free pastries that they
stopped for a sweet, and then got roped into conversation. It was fun, it was sometimes
difficult, and it was always eye-opening.

We got questions like “If Muslims aren’t terrorists, why don’t we ever hear them
denouncing terrorism?” Sometimes the question was posed as, “We see all these terrorist
attacks happening, and I just don’t see any Muslims expressing any dissatisfaction, it’s
almost like they’re okay with it or like they kinda want it to happen.” Which is a
particularly illogical formulation, because if a Middle Eastern immigrant left the Middle
East, it’s because they wanted to have a more “American” life, right? It’s not like you
would leave the Middle East if what you want to do is live in a place that will be invaded
by “the Middle East.”

Illogical or not, it’s a legitimate question. And we heard it over and over, which means
that people have really not heard Muslims denounce terrorism. But that’s really strange
because the only Muslims I know do denounce terrorism. I think the biggest problem is
that our mainstream news outlets just aren’t going to cover a bunch of reasonable people
denouncing violence. Beyoncé’s skirt could fly up, or Oprah Winfrey could endorse
another book, or Hillary Clinton could say something about hating Spanx when she
thought her microphone was off— any of that would be covered before nice people saying
violence is bad.

Nevertheless, the question is frustrating. It’s as if Catholics had to denounce pedophilia

every time there was a news story on an abusive priest. They just don’t do that, because
it’s obvious that rank-and-file Catholics are disgusted with these priests. Seventy-one
percent of mass shootings in the last thirty years were perpetrated by white males, but
we don’t have white males denouncing mass murder every time it happens.

We also got questions like “Why aren’t you wearing a burka?” Another great question. In
the United States, whenever we talk about Muslim ladies, we imagine them as shrouded
beings. In some countries in the Middle East, covering is the law, not because of the
Koran but because of governmental laws (known as the Hadith) that came after the
Koran. In the United States, some ladies want to cover, so they do. Other ladies don’t. It’s
really up to them.

The booth we set up, that type of social justice comedy action, was inviting and
warranted. But there were times that my tactics veered away from love and into an area
of uncomfortable goading. I didn’t want to make a movie that provoked people into
looking stupid or forced them into screaming matches. But in one instance, I messed up.
We were on our way to Nashville for a show and en route we saw a state fair in full swing.
We stopped for some cotton candy and to take a ride that made me want to throw up.
After feeling the earth beneath my feet for twenty minutes, we were roaming the grounds
when we happened upon a bare-knuckle boxing ring that was nestled in the woods
behind the fair. I assumed that bare-knuckle boxing matches attract the kind of people
who have very little regard for the skin on their hands. The anti-manicure set, if you will.
I had never been to any kind of boxing match (let alone amateur bare-knuckle boxing)
and we had the grand idea to offer our comedy services in between matches.

I approached the ticket seller and said, “Hello, we are a kindly band of Muslim
comedians who would like to offer our comedy services to your fine affair. No
recompense required, of course.” I then bowed, holding my gloves in hand like a true
gentlewoman.

The ticket seller looked at me quizzically. “Muslim comedians?” he said.

“Yes, we would do stand‑ up, in between matches, you know, to keep the audience
entertained while the boxers grease their hands.”

He asked me to wait while he asked his boss. We waited for a few minutes and while I
stood there I noticed a set of snarling dogs in the corner. “Hmmph, I did not notice those
dogs before,” I said to myself. I then took a real good look around and fully came to
terms with the type of fan who enjoys—I mean really enjoys—the art of bare--knuckle
boxing. It means that you have a particular comfort level with blood, gashes, and other
forms of bodily pain. I noticed men walking around who themselves looked like they had
been beaten up—probably because they had been beaten up. “Hmmph, this whole room
is into violence in a way that I didn’t quite notice before,” I said to myself.

And just as I was noticing the number of empty Pabst cans on the floor, the boss man ran
out from the back. He was not wearing a shirt, but to honor the event, he was wearing a
bow tie. He seemed to find a large stick that had been conveniently set against an
adjacent wall, you know, the way big sticks often are. He grabbed that stick, charged
toward us, and in his finest and most threatening twang, he screamed, “Y’all Muslims
better get outta here.”

I believe he said other things afterward but we were running and dumping in our pants
at such a fast rate that I couldn’t quite hear him. This was not the right approach. You
don’t goad people who are ripe for the goading into a moment of cultural understanding.
Wrong setting.

A general rule of thumb: If you see snarling dogs, it’s the wrong setting.