Ramadan reimagined in 2024: Reporter's notebook
I was a teenager during 9/11.
It was a very challenging time for many Americans, including Muslim Americans like me. My generation felt as if we had to walk on eggshells in the aftermath of the attacks. But unlike the generation before us, who often could not be openly Muslim in America at all, mine learned we had to carefully shape our own narrative, and own our identity.
The latter is what I saw this Ramadan, the Islamic holy month – but far louder and clearer than before.
It was the first time I saw Muslim influencers, Muslim chefs, Muslim artists, Muslim business owners, Muslim entertainment industry employees, and Muslim community organizers enhancing and re-shaping celebrations, to meet a moment and an evolving Muslim American community.
While some Muslims might remain wary of alienating parts of America who feel negatively about them, especially during this time of high tensions in the Middle East, others appear to be taking a leap forward, inviting people to understand them through their culture and their craft.
Just as other holy observances, such as Christmas and the Hindu festival of Diwali, have evolved from holidays to weeks-long seasons, so too did the spirit of the Muslim holiday Eid – the final day of Ramadan – evolve for me this year.
Eid is scarcely covered by American media. But social media was flooded with images, many of them arguably enabling the further acceptance of Muslims in America.
I watched influencer Aysha Harun create a whimsical iftar meal exploding with colors and meaning for her half-a-million followers and guests, in an effort to redefine how the world sees Muslims gather for the evening meal that breaks the daily dawn-to-sundown fast of Ramadan.
I discovered the U.K. women's clothing brand Karen Millen through their Eid Collection. And in what felt rare for an American brand, I watched as the trendy cookware company Our Place released their first Eid collection.
In my eyes, Eid's appeal, and mainstream acceptance, appeared to be widening.
At popular LA restaurant Pijja Palace, its Indian owner turned over the restaurant to his Muslim sous chef for a ticketed six-course iftar open to the public. My family watched in awe as a diverse, sold-out crowd packed the tables and bar to experience what once felt like just our traditions – ones we once practiced in private.
At Muslim visual artist Aadil Abedi’s inaugural Chand Raat event, celebrating the eve of Eid, non-Muslims outnumbered Muslims – something he said was intentional to help inform his friends about his religion. The drinks covering a table had a touch of watermelon radish. “Simple light touches to nod to the [Palestinian] colors,” said Abedi.
I missed it at the time, but prominently on display in the center of that table was an olive branch in a large vessel.
And I watched as my own professional community gathered in celebration. Two Muslim employee resource groups from media giants hosted an iftar for hundreds of Muslims in Hollywood – the biggest narrative-shaping industry of them all, and one that arguably has partly shaped how the world thinks about Muslims. Despite the irony of working in a business that communicates messages to millions around the world, Muslims – who make up only a fraction of the Hollywood workforce – often express that they feel unheard.
Organizers made it clear, however, they would not be silenced, with passionate speeches about Palestinian deaths. I saw some of the symbolic visuals around the room as representative of deep pain, isolation, and exhaustion.
One of the most powerful moments for me, however, was one of the most somber.
The iftar held by NewGround, a group led by executive director Aziza Hasan and associate director Andrea Hodos – Palestinian and Jewish, respectively – brought together dozens of Muslims and Jewish people.
Hasan guided us through an exercise after dinner. Citing the late cognitive neuroscientist Emile Bruneau, she cautioned that while empathy is a powerful emotion, extreme empathy for our own group can sometimes lead us to distrust and even dehumanize others, because we may perceive them as dismissing our pain.
Guests were then directed to think about a person in the Middle East whose story they wanted to share.
We went around the table, Muslims and Jews together sharing emotional stories about people of both cultures who had affected their lives. There was zero judgment – only kindness and understanding among strangers, and respect that everyone wanted the same thing.
When it feels like the world’s attention is focused largely on the division between these groups, inclusive moments such as these feel profoundly significant.
For me, this Ramadan is the first time I’ve celebrated Muslim holidays in such an open way. It sometimes feels as if my religious group is the last to be able to make such progress in America. It feels good that we can include others as we do – the same way they are now more often offering us a seat at their tables.
Perhaps bringing everyone together at the table, regardless of faith and cultures, is something all of us should do more of. And acknowledging pain – and sharing joy – that is not just our own.
Zohreen Shah is a Los Angeles-based national correspondent for ABC News.
