Politics and Islam in the United States: The Taqwacore Approach (original) (raw)

1The word “taqwacore” derives from a combination between the Arabic words “taqwa” and “core,” referring respectively to an awe-inspiring consciousness of Allah and to the hardcore punk rock music style. The taqwacores are a community of like-minded people and a scene, that is to say both an actual musical scene, and the musicians, fans, actors, or writers who contribute to the expansion of the taqwacore community. [1] A taqwacore can be a musician, a writer, a blogger, or simply a fan. The scene was created in the mid-2000s, under the impulse of Michael Muhammad Knight, a white author who converted from Christianity to Islam when he was in his teens. Knight gave away copies of his self-published debut novel, The Taqwacores, before it was officially published in 2004. The Taqwacores narrates the day-to-day life of a group of Muslim young adults in Buffalo, New York, who share a “punk house,” namely a house ruled in a punk rock “Do It Yourself” spirit, and who reject any type of social, political, or religious authority. The reader meets Yusef, the narrator, Jehangir, who aims to organize a taqwacore music festival, Rabeya, the burqa-wearing feminist woman who sometimes leads the Friday prayers, Amazing Ayyub, a Shi’a Muslim, Umar, a radical “straightedge” Muslim, Fasiq Abasa, a marijuana-smoker, and Muzammil, a gay Muslim.

2With this novel, Knight reached an audience of Muslims as well as non-Muslims, who identified with the protagonists. A new musical scene then developed, with bands mostly made up of Muslim musicians of diverse ethnic origins, and bands predating the novel started calling themselves “taqwacore,” now that the word had been coined. Some band members—such as the Kominas, meaning “bastards” in Urdu—are second-generation Pakistani immigrants. Others are of Arab origin, such as Marwan Kamel (member of Al-Thawra, meaning “Revolution” in Arabic), whose father is Syrian. Though not all taqwacores are Muslims, Islam is at the core of the community’s discussions and of the bands’ songs.

3Assessing the size of the taqwacore community is uneasy given the absence of quantitative research. Videos, songs, and documentaries suggest that taqwacores are in the 16-35 age-range. As of May 2012, the Kominas had 7,611 fans on Facebook, up from 5,870 in June 2011. At the same date, the Kominas’ emblematic song “Sharia Law in the USA” had been viewed around 48,000 times on YouTube and “Tunnnnnn” had scored almost 59,000 hits. While such sources must be handled with caution, they are significant for a community which built itself online, and whose members have active Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace accounts, and regularly post videos on YouTube. The Internet for them is a means of keeping the community together, but also of extending it, since YouTube videos and Twitter or Facebook status and post updates can be seen worldwide.

4The taqwacores’ specificity is to voice out loud their longing for a personal interpretation and practice of religion free from the control of religious institutions. They express these opinions in loud songs and boisterous concerts with shocking lyrics: the Kominas’ “I am an Islamist, I am the Antichrist” (as a reference to the Sex Pistols’ John Lydon, who sang “I am the Antichrist, I am an anarchist”) or “Suicide bomb the Gap” are particularly daring and uncompromising (Kominas, 2008). Through songs and interviews, the taqwacores also convey their criticism of American foreign policies, such as the military presence in Iraq or Afghanistan, intrusions in Pakistan, or the support of Israel against Palestine. These political and social commitments make the taqwacores counter-examples of the notion of a “postideological” and “postpolitical” era (Fox and Starn 2). Yet, following historian Robin Kelley’s analysis of the black working class in Race Rebels: Culture, Politics, and the Black Working Class, one may ask: “Can we call this politics?” (8). The article purports to show that although the message seldom filters beyond the taqwacore community itself, the taqwacores can be analyzed in terms of infrapolitics.

5For anthropologist James Scott, the term infrapolitics “conveys the idea that we are dealing with an unobtrusive realm of political struggle,” a political struggle in which a subordinate group inconspicuously challenges a dominant group (183). Analyzing the black working class on the American West coast, Kelley argues that “the how seems far less important than the why” (9). I will focus here on the reasons why the taqwacores adopt such provocative behaviors. I will, however, also analyze their means of action (the “how”), since the use of punk rock is one of the keys to understanding the taqwacore community. In this case study, the subordinate group is the taqwacore community, but also, more broadly, American Muslim communities, young Muslims within these communities, and misfits in general. American Muslims are indeed a minority within American society and can easily be targeted as such. Young people may feel alienated from Muslim communities, especially if their parents found it hard to adapt to American customs after migrating to the United States (Haddad and Smith 19). Young adults may also feel a special connection with the taqwacores without being Muslim or religious. Symmetrically, the dominant group is cross-cultural and cross-boundaries, since it includes politicians, foreign and domestic religious conservatives, as well as the Muslim communities, which belong to both the subordinate group (as a minority within American society) and the dominant group (by ostracizing misfits). Hence, the taqwacores make up a “minority within a minority” (Knight quoted in Majeed), ostracized by American society and by Muslim communities, with which they have conflicting relationships.

6The taqwacores openly voice their views and concerns. They have, however, mixed feelings about being called militants (Knight, email to author, 2010). But, even though they do not claim to be activists or to engage in political struggles of any kind, their lyrics, behaviors, and public statements cannot be ignored. Indeed, taqwacore musicians often sound and look offensive in order to trigger reactions from both their audience and mainstream American society. I therefore suggest that the taqwacores use the alleged incompatibility between Islam and punk rock as an infrapolitical tool for empowerment. As Scott argues, “infrapolitics is always pressing, testing, probing the boundaries of the permissible” (200). Still, infrapolitics is also described as “disguised, low-profile, undeclared forms of resistance” (Scott 185), which fundamentally contradicts the taqwacore ethos. The taqwacores thus partly challenge Scott’s approach. Moreover, their actions and statements are not under cover, but relayed in the media and on the Internet. Bands such as the Kominas may also be considered to be un-declared Goffmanian “spokesmen” for the taqwacore community (Goffman 113). [2] Looking at the taqwacores through the lens of infrapolitics is an opportunity to reinterpret the concept of infrapolitics and the ends which can be reached through infrapolitical means.

7The taqwacores are shaping an original form of activism, using the legacy of their personal and family histories, and their experience as second-generation immigrants in the United States. Whereas their first concerns were related to identity issues, they soon added political topics to their lyrics. Politics cannot be separated from their day-to-day identity quest, as Kelley accurately argues: “I am rejecting the tendency to dichotomize people’s lives, to assume that clear-cut ‘political’ motivations exist separately from issues of economic well-being, safety, pleasure, cultural expression, sexuality, freedom of mobility, and other facets of daily lives” (9). American politics influence the taqwacores’ search for identity, hence their political statements and opinions. I will show how they use the mischievousness inherent in punk rock to reach and achieve their Goffmanian “ego identity” (Goffman 106). I will then point out that it is possible to conceive of the taqwacores’ means of action as infrapolitical, or “public declaration[s] of hidden transcripts” (Kelley 112), but that this conception somewhat challenges Scott’s approach to infrapolitics.

8I will provide a brief reminder of the use of music and punk rock as vehicles for political and social viewpoints, before describing the taqwacores’ activism in political and identity-related issues, insisting on the public aspect of their contradictorily “hidden transcripts” (Scott 118). Linking the search for identity in the taqwacore ethos with what I describe as infrapolitical ways to achieve this search enables me to consider their discourse to be a fundamental aspect of their identity exploration. Eventually, the taqwacores’ recurrent refusal to acknowledge their role as “spokesmen” for their stigmatized group (Goffman 113-114) can be interpreted as an infrapolitical process. Indeed, by acting like spokesmen while refusing to define themselves as such, they have created a place of their own at the margin of American Muslim communities, a margin in which they can express themselves.

Punk Rock: A Vehicle for Political and Social Viewpoints

9Music has been used as a tool for empowerment by many minorities in various time periods. The African American community’s use of music to express their longing for freedom and social justice is paradigmatic of the political use of music in American history. As early as the seventeenth century, African slaves in the colonies sang Negro Spirituals as a form of rebellion against their forced subjugation and against their white owners’ cruelty. Slave owners either were not aware of the songs’ existence, or could not understand the lyrics, hence Scott’s idea of a “hidden transcript.” Clinical psychologist Arthur C. Jones notes: “most spirituals contain elements of protest embedded in their lyrics, but there are likely many other songs, like ‘Heav’n, Heav’n,’ whose purpose was primarily one of protest.” Indeed, some famous songs such as “Go Down, Moses,” or “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen,” refer to the Exodus from Egypt as a metaphor of escape from an oppressive power, or to the slaves’ unbearable living conditions.

10Much later, Negro Spirituals took on another meaning when used as protest songs during the Civil Rights movement. New versions of Negro Spirituals emerged, with lyrics adapted to that era’s social and political contexts. Singers such as Nina Simone and Aretha Franklin denounced the segregative Jim Crow laws in songs such as “Mississippi Goddam,” “Old Jim Crow,” or in the cover of Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit.” Music’s ability to seem harmless and, at the same time, to reveal intolerable cruelty through lyrics helped activists rally people to the African Americans’ cause. Music can thus be regarded as one of the most active infrapolitical vehicles of political actions, by virtue of its longevity, its achievements, and its capacity to challenge the establishment (Roy).

11Music holds an inherent infrapolitical potential for political actions. [3] Though often defined as a subculture created by white people (Hall and Jefferson), punk today is viewed as a multiracial subculture, even as a means of empowerment for minority young people (Duncombe and Tremblay 207). According to Stephen Duncombe and Maxwell Tremblay, “there is something in punk—how it operates and what it does—that provides effective tools for social organization and the negotiation of racial identities” (252). Already in the 1980s, British Muslim bands like Alien Kulture voiced critical opinions against Prime Minister Thatcher’s government and called for the unity of British youth of Asian decent:

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Caught in a culture crossover

1 –2 –3 –4

We’re taught how to pray five times a day

But that’s not what we’re about

We just want to live out our lives

Run and dance and sing and shout …

First generation, illegal immigrants

Second generation juvenile delinquents

Torn between two cultures.

13In an interview with the BBC in the 1980s, Alien Kulture described their lives as misfits in British society, and called for their cultural differences and heritage to be recognized and embraced in a multicultural society (Duncombe and Tremblay 231). Black punks are another example of punk rock at the core of social and cultural struggles. In the documentary Afro-Punk: “The Rock n Roll Nigger” Experience, director James Spooner interviews young black punks who explain why they chose to embrace punk culture. Most of them gained confidence from punk rock since it provided them with a community in which they fit. Similar sentiments are expressed in Omar Majeed’s documentary Taqwacore: The Birth of Punk Islam, in which the director follows taqwacore bands on a tour in the summer of 2007.

14For these young adults, punk rock represents the ultimate vehicle to express political and social viewpoints. In the taqwacore experience political topics and identity issues are two sides of a same coin. Alien Kulture deliberately chose punk rock because they identified with the punk “Do It Yourself” ethos. In their choice to form a punk community, the taqwacores followed the same pattern. Their decision to become punks resulted from a feeling of in-betweenness experienced both in traditional Muslim communities, and in American society at large. Echoing Alien Kulture’s lyrics, Omar Waqar’s song “Rooftops” describes him as a misfit, rejected even by his community of origin:

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I used to think misfits were holy,

Now I think we’re damned.

Hell’s Angels on the earth.

16Yet, the opacity of this musical genre can make it somehow difficult for non-punks to understand their message. One needs to be privy to the signs and symbols of punk rock in order to fully comprehend them. In the case of the taqwacores, Islamic symbols add to the punk attitude. For instance, Michael Muhammad Knight’s novel The Taqwacores includes many Arabic words referring to the Islamic faith, and the first edition of the novel did not include a glossary. Knight himself acknowledged that he used these words on purpose and was “perfectly fine with alienating non-Muslim readers,” because his novel was not directed to a non-Muslim audience (Thwaite).

17Music in general, and punk rock in particular, is an apt way to convey a political and social message. For twenty-first century punks like the taqwacores, punk rock is also a way of living and forming social interactions. As argued by Duncombe and Tremblay, taqwacores belong to the punk community, but they also hold “aspirations and expectations of diversity” (252). Even though the symbols used by the taqwacores may remain opaque for an uninitiated audience, their aspirations and expectations are made clear in the lyrics of their songs. Their “hidden transcripts” become public, more understandable and clearer to a wider audience.

The Taqwacores and their Activism: A “Hidden Transcript” Made Public

18A first analysis of the taqwacores may portray them as young adults surfing on the wave of provocation to gain media attention, as suggested by Duncombe and Tremblay: “Taqwacore is a cultural development of our time, meaning that it is at once organic and something of a media-amplified phenomenon [since] the existence of ‘Muslim punk’ is catnip to an editor in search of an offbeat story with possibly large implications” (239). Their provocative lyrics are, however, chosen to achieve specific goals. In fact, their lyrics and behaviors may serve as infrapolitical means which enable them to express specific views. These lyrics become outrageous when made public to a wider audience, rather than restrained to the realm of the taqwacore community. Members of the taqwacore scene identify with the singers’ provocative lyrics and opinions, whereas an audience unfamiliar with the taqwacores’ provocation are more likely to be appalled. When the Kominas scream that they want “Sharia Law in the USA,” the irony is obvious, but the real meaning of the song lies in the criticism of both conservative Muslim authorities, who may want to enforce Sharia in the United States, and conservative American people, whose biggest fear is Islamic invasion and the implementation of Sharia law as a ruling system. The band mocks conservative Americans who voice concerns that they find ridiculous:

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I am an Islamist

I am the Antichrist . . .

Cops chased me out of my mother’s womb

My crib was in state pen before age two

The cops had bugged my red toy phone

So I devised a plan for heads to roll

Sharia law in the—USA (2x).

20Thus, taqwacore lyrics are not undercover, “hidden” means through which they express views: as such they are political. These musicians and singers use a mix of punk symbols and Islamic signs—their own “hidden transcript”—to convey their message, but they make their “transcript” public when releasing their highly political songs on the Internet, making them available to a wider audience. These lyrics can be compared to the gangsta rap studied by Kelley, who argues that most of the time it is not to be understood literally (189). In both taqwacore punk rock and gangsta rap, the musicians’ means to pass on their opinions is always designed to shock people. The taqwacores purposely choose punk rock to make it both opaque and, as in the words of Marwan Kamel, the leader of the band Al-Thawra, “shocking again:”

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The thing is, punk rock doesn’t fucking shock anybody here anymore. Just by even looking at punks, you’re not scared anymore, right? But when you combine it with something like, you know terrorism scares people a lot, Arabs, because they’re so different, Muslims, because they seem so exotic to people. When you combine that with punk rock, you’re recharging punk rock to make it shocking again.

22The taqwacores keep voicing their opinions and concerns, and criticize journalists who do not offer an accurate picture of the bands. The documentary Taqwacore: The Birth of Punk Islam shows taqwacores laughing at a journalist’s question (“How does it feel to be a Muslim and know that there are terrorists out there, and that they’re Muslim as well?”), to which Basim Usmani boldly answers: “How does it feel to be white and to know about the slave trade?” (Majeed).

23No matter what journalists and scholars may say about them, the taqwacores are uncompromising young people who dare express their opinions about foreign or domestic issues. They echo the voices of some Muslim rap singers, both white and black, who also refer in their songs to American society, history, and policies. [4] The taqwacores’ political and social concerns range from support for Barack Obama, to the rejection of Islamophobia and homophobia. In Journey to the End of Islam, published in 2009, Michael Muhammad Knight, the “Founding Father” of the taqwacore community and a staunch Obama supporter, argues:

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In 1190 a Christian prophet told King Richard the Lion-Hearted [sic] that Saladin was the Anti-Christ who must be defeated to resurrect Jerusalem. We were dancing in the same steps in our Republican theocracy, the Southern Baptist Caliphate— where George W. Bush declared that God wanted him to be president... where neo-Confederate theocons could sidestep their fear of Obama’s insufficient whiteness by projecting it onto his questionable Christian-ness.

25According to the Pew Forum, 63 percent of American Muslims vote for Democrats or lean Democratic while only 11 percent vote or lean Republican. At the beginning of Eyad Zahra’s movie The Taqwacores, Bush is represented in an ironic caricature, which reads “Let’s blow it up,” referring to the invasion of Iraq in 2003. In Blue-Eyed Devil, Knight tells his reader how he met Asma Gull Hasan, whose family created the Muslims for America pressure group to support the Bush administration:

26

Asma said that she liked George W. Bush because of his “outreach to Muslims,” which meant that he hosted Ramadan dinner in the White House.
“I’d rather he skipped the dinner and just stopped bombing people,” I told her.

27Knight and The Kominas strongly opposed Muslims for America and Asma Gull Hasan in particular. The Kominas went so far as to mock her in one of their songs, “Rumi Was a Homo,” with lyrics such as “You give better handjobs than Asma Hasan” (Kominas, 2008). Hasan eventually sued Knight and the Kominas for such lyrics. What matters here is not only the taqwacores’ political views, but their unconventional way of defending them. Rather than speaking out in interviews and newspaper articles, they mock their opponents in provocative punk rock songs and writings, using for instance both historical literature (thirteenth-century Sufi poet Rumi) and slang words in the same song.

28Concerning the United States’ invasion of Iraq and involvement in Afghanistan, even though the taqwacores have often sided with the invaded countries, their sometimes conflicting identities make their choices harder. For instance, in Journey to the End of Islam, Knight shares his mixed feelings about American troops’ regular intrusions in Pakistan:

29

It was a confusing time for the community. If the ultimate good was to see Muslims accepted as positive contributors to American life, did that mean keeping our mouths shut? What did it mean for the writers and rappers and filmmakers—should artists be held to the same concerns as activists? What should an artist do when truth disagrees with justice? Are you a bridge builder or a truth teller?… Truth: there were American Muslims who saw themselves on the edges of both America and Islam, and I was one of them, and no one on either side wanted to hear our voices.

30The taqwacores refuse to be assimilated with patriotic American Muslims who reject Islamic conservatism, as expressed by Knight during the 2007 Taqwa tour, in which taqwacore bands gathered and traveled together in an old school bus, performing in East Coast cities:

31

People want to paint us as like the “good West-friendly Muslims.” Just because we rebel against certain things within conservative Islam then that must make us, you know, super patriotic fucking Republican voters or something. You know what I mean. And I think it’s important that anyone who steps on this bus trying to understand us sees that in the so-called war of civilizations, we put the middle finger in both directions, you know: fuck you, and fuck you.

32The taqwacores place themselves on the margin as neither patriotic American Muslims, nor Muslims who violently oppose the United States’ overwhelming power. They do not belong to any organization and thus illustrate Robin Kelley’s understanding of infrapolitics: “Some of the most dynamic struggles take place outside—indeed, sometimes in spite of— established organizations and institutions” (7). For instance, while conventional Muslim organizations—like the Islamic Society of North America (ISNA)—praise interfaith outreach and release statements against terrorism, the taqwacores do not engage in such appeasing initiatives.

33Religion may be among the reasons why they support Iraq or Afghanistan, but arguably Islam and the fact that some taqwacores are Muslim are not their only motives for defending Iraqi or Afghan civilians, or denouncing bombings in Palestine. The taqwacores want to expose tragic situations, in which civilians are denied their most fundamental rights. Their goal is to denounce unfair military decisions, “on a secular basis” (Knight, 2009 213). The band Al-Thawra’s 2008 debut album, entitled Who Benefits From War?, does not only denounce the invasion of Islamic lands by Jewish colonists, but also the bombing of Palestine by Israel, in which civilians have died. The Kominas also supported the Egyptian revolution in their third and latest album, in a song called “Tahrir Square Dance” (Kominas, 2011). Religious issues do matter in the taqwacores’ defense of a particular cause, but they are not the only reason why they choose to do so.

34I argued earlier that the taqwacores used means identifiable as infrapolitical to convey political and social messages. One might add that political issues influence their infrapolitical means of expression, by influencing their search for an identity in American society. For instance, it is understandable why Marwan Kamal from Al-Thawra finds it difficult to feel fully American when the United States opposes the recognition of Palestine at the United Nations Organization, since he was raised by an Arab father. The Kominas might have experienced the same feeling of not belonging to American society during the intrusions of American soldiers in Pakistani territory.

35Some songs and comments are also devoted to the support of feminists, and LGBTQ causes, especially in the context of American Muslim communities. In Wild Nights in Guantanamo Bay, the Kominas’ 2008 debut album, three songs are about women: “Ayesha,” “Layla,” and “Rabyah.” The name “Ayesha” refers to Prophet Muhammad’s last wife, and “Layla” is a pseudonym used to tell the story of a girl rejected by her lover’s family. As for “Rabyah,” it is very close to the name Rabeyah, one of the main feminist characters in Knight’s novel The Taqwacores. The latter also expressed his full support to women such as Dr Amina Wadud, Asra Nomani, and Mohja Kahf, in their struggles for the recognition of female imams, and full gender equality in Islam. [5] Finally, in the Kominas’ latest album, entitled Kominas, the song “No One Gonna Honor Kill My Baby (But Me)” ironically denounces honor killings of women (Kominas, 2011).

36The Kominas voice their rejection of homophobia in a song entitled “Rumi was a Homo,” condemning imam Siraj Wahhaj’s homophobic statements. Siraj Wahhaj is an African American convert to Islam. He is the imam of Al-Taqwa mosque in Brooklyn, and he made some fiercely homophobic statements (Knight, 2009 15). Some lyrics in the song are particularly explicit: “Rumi was a genius / Siraj, you’re an ass / Rumi was a homo / Siraj, you’re a fag.”

37The taqwacores’ opinions gain full meaning when released in concerts and talks. The fictional punk house described in Knight’s novel can be considered a “social site” for infrapolitical actions (Scott). It is a place for decision-making and consciousness-raising, and a safe haven for young punks. Scott’s definition of social sites also aptly characterizes the taqwacores’ concerts. In these social events, young taqwacores vent feelings they are not free to release in their communities of origin. They dance, scream, and express themselves freely, as Omar Majeed’s documentary shows. Rather than surreptitiously producing “hidden transcripts,” the taqwacores proudly express their opinions out loud, even though the part of their audience who actually understand fully their message may be limited.

38Moreover, shocking people through provocative statements and lyrics contributes to the creation of the taqwacore community, which runs counter to Scott’s argument that “the logic of infrapolitics is to leave few traces in the wake of its passage” (200). For example, during a Kominas’ concert in Paris in September 2011, musician Imran Malik spent most of his time on stage wearing a burqa, implicitely criticizing the French government’s recent decision to ban full veils in public spaces. Another example is the first pages of Michael Muhammad Knight’s The Taqwacores which consist in a poem picturing Prophet Muhammad as a punk rocker:

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I see Muhammad

Down at the corner store

Rocking on galaga

Getting the high score

When he delivers sermons

The kids think he’s a bore

But when he smashes idols

Everyone cheers for more

Muhammad was a punk rocker

He tore everything down

Muhammad was a punk rocker

And he rocked that town . . .

When he was in a dumpster by himself

Allah told him crazy things

For Muhammad to share with all of us

On his six holy strings.

40The taqwacores voice open political views, while denying any political commitment. In so doing, and in a somehow paradoxical way, they shape their own idiosyncratic means of action, which can usefully be characterized as infrapolitical. The taqwacore community’s primary goal was identity exploration and the definition of an American Muslim identity hospitable to such other features as being gay, feminist, or pro-Palestinian. Dealing with political issues actually helps the taqwacores define their identities, because social and political issues are undoubtedly linked.

Conclusion: Infrapolitics and Identity Exploration

41Most of the political concerns described above are related to the taqwacores’ or their relatives’ personal lives. Marwan Kamel, the leader of Al-Thawra, explained that his expectations for the taqwacore community were to explore identity and to “create something that [would exist] in-between East and West” (Kamel). For him, it was disappointing to realize that some taqwacore bands actually gave up on these ideals in their rush for success.

42The Goffmanian distinction between “personal identity” and “ego identity” can help make sense of the taqwacore community. For Goffman, “ego identity,” or “felt identity,” is defined as “the subjective sense of [one’s] own situation and own continuity and character that an individual comes to obtain as a result of his various social experiences” (105), whereas “personal identity” derives from how one is identified by others and can thus be detached from one’s personality. As a result, “concerns and a definition [of one’s ‘personal identity’] can arise even before the individual is born, and continue after he has been buried,” whereas one’s “ego identity” is a “subjective, reflexive matter that necessarily must be felt by the individual whose identity is at issue” (106). These notions are useful to understand the taqwacores’ longing for an identity that would fit every aspect of their lives and personal histories. Their “personal” identity is defined by the communities to which they belong, and these communities’ histories in the United States. But their histories as individual members of these communities, as Muslims of foreign descent—and as young Americans— make up their “ego” identities. For the taqwacores, including political lyrics and behaviors in their songs and concerts is a necessary step toward building their “ego” identities. That is why punk rock is an infrapolitical means to achieve these “ego” identities by dealing with political issues.

43Taqwacore bands are framed as “spokesmen” for the taqwacore community by journalists, media, and even scholars. Indeed, even in this article, interpretations about the taqwacore community have been drawn from the examples of some taqwacore bands. Yet, some bands, such as the Kominas, are gaining a wider reputation in the United States and in Europe, and they may want to tone down their opinions and criticisms in order to promote their albums. Marwan Kamel acknowledges that the Kominas do not want to deal with political issues anymore—or not as much as they used to—because they are afraid it might “scare off fans” (Kamel).

44The taqwacores might not want their political statements to pigeonhole them in a political image which does not fit them entirely. Even though they voice out loud a minority’s opinions. Goffman’s analysis of militancy gives us a hint to understand taqwacore bands’ uneasiness at being considered “spokesmen” for their stigmatized group:

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The problems associated with militancy are well known. When the ultimate political objective is to remove stigma from the differentness, the individual may find that his very efforts can politicize his own life, rendering it even more different from the normal life initially denied him—even though the next generation of his fellows may greatly profit from his efforts by being more accepted.

46This does not mean that the taqwacore bands have stopped being political, but their political actions are less perceptible in their lyrics than before. If anything, in fact, they tend to take an even more direct part in political actions, as updates on the Kominas’ Facebook and Twitter pages—asking for some help to perform during the “Occupy Wall Street” protests—show: “Who wants to help us put on a show at #OccupyWallSt?”

47The taqwacores may have chosen different paths to carry out their ambitious enterprises, be they related to politics, social issues, identity explorations, or the promotion of their albums. They are not just Muslim on one hand, and punk on the other, because they refuse to base their identities on a dual frame. They resort to the infrapolitical means they have created in order to achieve their identity quest and to embrace their differences from mainstream American Muslim communities and American society. Although they now face an uncertain future as a movement, they have managed to create a place of their own in American society. They are a new voice for American Muslims, a new way of being young and Muslim in the United States. Politics guides their choices and self-definitions and thus, although they often fail to admit it themselves, politics cannot be divorced from the taqwacore experience. In the final analysis, the taqwacore scene makes an _infrapolitical use of politics_—for instance, doing politics without acknowledging it—in order to engage in a search for their Muslim-American identities.

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