[Podcast] Should Muslims Ally with Conservatives or Progressives? | Im…

Muslims swept off the street by ICE, Somalis in Minnesota targeted by racism from the President of America, Palestinian activists illegally detained: post-Trump America is a hellish dystopia… yet one that many Muslims voted for.

In this episode of the MuslimMatters Podcast, Zainab bint Younus speaks to Imam Dawud Walid about the political and cultural pendulum swinging to the right after the leftist allyship of the 2010s, and the phenomenon of Muslims voting for Trump in the last election. She asks him about his book “Towards Sacred Activism” and what priorities Muslims need to keep in mind before choosing to engage with or seek allyship with political and cultural groups in the West. Are Muslims meant to be right-wing or left-wing? Tune into this episode for a deep dive into this contentious discussion.

Imam Dawud Walid is currently the Executive Director of CAIR-Michigan, member of the Imams Council of Michigan, and advisory board member of Muslim Endorsement Council (MEC) which is a national endorsement and support organization for Islamic chaplaincy. Imam Dawud has ijazaat in various disciplines of the Islamic sciences, has served an imam for many years, in addition to writing several books, authoring essays, and speaking at multiple institutions around the world.

Transcript:

Note: This transcript was generated and organized by AI, with potential for error. If you notice any errors, please let us know in the comments.

Zainab bint Younus:
Welcome to the Muslim Matters Podcast. Today’s guest is Imam Dawud Walid. Imam Dawud Walid is currently the Executive Director of CAIR Michigan, a member of the Imams Council of Michigan, and an advisory board member of the Muslim Endorsement Council, which is a national endorsement and support organization for Islamic chaplaincy.

Imam Dawud has ijāzāt in various disciplines of Islamic sciences, has served as an imam for many years, and has also written multiple books, authored many essays, and spoken at institutions around the world. Imam Dawud, welcome to the podcast. I’m really excited for this episode.

I recently read your book Towards Sacred Activism, which was originally published in 2018 and has come out again in a second edition fairly recently. This book came out at a unique time in Western Muslim history. The 2010s were characterized by a surge in Muslims—whether laypeople or religious leaders—engaging in social justice activism at local and national levels.

Could you summarize some of the main points of your book for our audience today?

Imam Dawud Walid:
First of all, thank you for having me on, and thank you to MuslimMatters for hosting this important conversation. Many beneficial articles and podcasts have been produced by MuslimMatters over the years, and may Allah bless and preserve this noble work.

With regard to the reasoning behind writing Towards Sacred Activism, it goes back quite a ways—about fifteen or sixteen years ago—when I was part of a fellowship at a major university on the West Coast of the United States. In that fellowship, there were Muslims from various backgrounds, and what I noticed was the rise of what people call “Muslimness” or “Muslim identity.”

People were getting involved in activism and community organizing, but instead of it being Qur’an- and Sunnah-centric—where being Muslim is a state of being—I began to see people treating “Muslim” as a quasi-ethnic identity that leaned toward progressive or far-left sensibilities.

If we look back at the year 2010, which was less than a decade after the tragedy of 9/11, the Republican Party was very overtly hostile to Muslims—not just in public policy, but in rhetoric. Then we had the unjust invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, along with other domestic policies like the Patriot Act.

Many Muslims felt that, at least in the United States, their friends were with the party of the donkey. That produced a set of sensibilities that I viewed as not being in line with the Qur’an and the Sunnah. I truly believe that there can be no success for us in the dunya—much less in the ākhirah—if we go outside the ḥudūd, the boundaries set by the Sacred Law of Allah, as taught to us and directed to us by al-Ḥabīb al-Muṣṭafā Muḥammad ﷺ.

That is the origin of the book.

What I wanted to do in the book—and what I attempt to do—starting with asking my mentor, Imam Zaid Shakir (ḥafiẓahu Allāh taʿālā), to write the foreword, was to reset Muslims’ heartset—I use the word heartset instead of mindset—around what our priorities are.

As much as we want to see justice, ultimate and perfect justice exists only in the ākhirah. But we still do our best to try to create a better reality for all human beings, and especially for Muslims.

The book begins by defining what justice is according to Islamic theology and the Sacred Law—not simply adopting a Western-only, leftist-only, or neo-Marxist definition of justice. It then goes through the different aspects of enjoining good and forbidding evil—both as a communal obligation and, at times, an individual obligation—what those circumstances are, and what the consequences are for abandoning enjoining good and forbidding evil in the societies we live in.

I also discuss the adab—the etiquettes—of enjoining good and forbidding evil, because we do not believe that the ends justify the means. The objective has to be sacred, and the means have to be sacred as well, if we want any activism or community organizing to be pleasing to Allah.

I then discuss the differences between coalitions and alliances, based on the Qur’anic definition of awliyā’—how Allah describes who are true allies and who are not, according to the Qur’an.

After that, I touched on what was, at the time, one of the most prominent shubuhāt Muslims were dealing with in activist spaces: engagement with what is commonly called the alphabet agenda.

I addressed that, and then I ended the book with the importance of spiritual self-care.

That is the overall framework of the book. It was written as a primer, but I also designed workshops and classes around it. Each chapter corresponds to a class session where I go into more detail, answer questions, and receive feedback from participants.

I’ve taught this workshop in Canada—in Mississauga at SeekersGuidance when the book first came out—in the UK, here in the United States, in West Africa, and online in South Africa.

Zainab bint Younus:
That’s great to know. I love workshops and think they’re an incredibly underrated form of community education that we sorely need.

What I really appreciated about the book is that you don’t dismiss the entire concept of social justice—which we unfortunately saw as a reaction to what was happening at the time—but instead you keep the focus on the fact that seeking justice is part of the dīn.

It is a personal obligation for all of us to fight oppression and uphold justice—divine justice in particular, as you specified. I also appreciated how clearly you distinguished between allyship and joining a coalition for a specific cause.

You emphasize that when the goals of a cause align with Islamic ethics, it is something we should consider supporting. You give the example of the Prophet ﷺ speaking about Ḥilf al-Fuḍūl, the pact to uphold justice during the time of Jāhiliyyah. After Islam, the Prophet ﷺ said that if he were invited to join it again, he would.

This is significant because it involved the Quraysh—non-believers and pagans—yet the higher principles of the pact aligned with the values of the dīn.

What I’d like to explore further is something you pointed out regarding the expectation of reciprocal allyship. At the time, Muslims were often expected to support a wide range of causes in return for solidarity against Islamophobia or support for Palestine. This included indigenous rights, Black Lives Matter, feminism, and the LGBTQ movement.

That last issue, in particular, generated significant concern among Muslims—especially the distinction between advocating for civil rights versus normalizing what is considered a major sin in the dīn.

Your book is the only work I’ve seen that systematically lays out principles for Muslim activism while also explicitly addressing concerns around the LGBTQ movement. You discuss coalitions versus alliances, centering faith as a higher moral framework, and maintaining a clear religious identity.

You also provide practical advice on navigating real-life situations where activist Muslims interact with LGBTQ-aligned individuals—on campus, at protests, and elsewhere.

What advice from the book do you think still holds true today?

Imam Dawud Walid:
It was a touchy subject then, and it remains a touchy subject now. This is where moral courage comes in, as well as preserving our ʿizzah—our dignity and honor—through financial independence.

After that chapter was published, I was disinvited from speaking at some universities. The same thing happened to Dr. Yasir Qadhi—not because of homophobic comments, but because he urged caution on this issue. In one instance, Muslims aligned with leftist movements protested my presence and got me canceled.

In my own work, there was also grant funding that was cut off—one grant over two years—because of a stance we took in Michigan regarding controversial books being made available to children in Dearborn public schools. These books related to the alphabet agenda, and the issue made national news.

I mention these examples because moral courage and ʿizzah are closely tied to financial independence. I’ve said for years: who funds you, runs you.

One of the major problems in our community—especially in activist and political organizing spaces—is that many organizations are almost entirely funded by left-leaning foundations. This either incentivizes activists to promote those foundations’ views, or it silences them from taking Islamically principled positions out of fear of losing funding.

That is why I believe Muslims must investigate who funds the activists and organizations they support. This issue has been neglected for far too long.

Here in Michigan, we do not take money from left-leaning or right-leaning foundations. Independence matters. The Prophet ﷺ taught that the upper hand—the one that gives—is better than the lower hand that begs.

Imam Dawud Walid (continued):
We want to maintain our independence and not feel beholden to individuals or institutions that expect us to promote positions that contradict our dīn.

And it’s not just one issue alone. It’s not only the alphabet agenda. It’s an entire package of positions that come together. For example, the claim that “sex work is real work,” which pushes for the decriminalization of prostitution. The current mayor of New York, who is Muslim, supports decriminalization of prostitution.

It is also about having no restrictions on abortion in the second or third trimester without addressing the primary reasons abortions occur. The overwhelming majority of abortions in America are not due to rape or incest; they are due to zinā. That reality is rarely addressed.

Then there is the push to decriminalize drugs. So it’s not just one issue—it’s a whole bundle. What happens is that Muslims align with people who may be pro-Palestine, but those same activists then pressure Muslims to advance causes that Allah and His Messenger ﷺ have explicitly cursed.

There is no success in advancing anything that Allah and His Messenger ﷺ have cursed. Absolutely none.

Zainab bint Younus:
Absolutely. I think another major issue at the time—and one that still persists—is that there was very little room for nuance.

On one extreme, there were people who reacted to these very real problems by rejecting all social justice discourse entirely. Issues like housing insecurity, food insecurity, indigenous rights, or opposition to pipelines running through indigenous lands—causes that clearly align with Islamic ethics—were dismissed simply because they were perceived as “leftist.”

On the other extreme, the far left was saying that if you didn’t support every cause they promoted, you were no better than a far-right conservative.

And then, unfortunately, you had Muslims who allied with far-right conservatives who rejected everything outright and labeled it socialism or corruption.

It became nearly impossible to have principled conversations.

Now, I would argue that the pendulum has swung in the other direction. Especially after the Trump era—both his first election and the second—we are seeing more religious Muslims, including religious leaders, actively seeking alliance with right-wing movements.

Initially, this was framed as a response to pro-LGBTQ legislation, books in schools, Pride Month, and similar developments. But at the same time, these same right-wing movements have been responsible for increased Islamophobia and the direct targeting of Muslims—especially post–October 7 with regard to Palestine.

Before that, we saw immigration bans, Muslim bans under Trump, and more. Figures like Charlie Kirk and others have publicly made blasphemous and vile statements about Rasulullah ﷺ—classic Orientalist Islamophobia.

Yet we see Muslims making excuses for them, claiming it is necessary for the “greater good,” though that greater good is often undefined.

The argument usually defaults to “the left is worse,” even though some left-aligned causes are indeed incompatible with Islam, while others are not.

Islam is not right-wing or left-wing. Muslims are struggling to grasp that complexity.

Right now, Muslims are being targeted by ICE. We are seeing Somali communities terrorized by Trump’s rhetoric. Muslims are victims of this right-wing movement not just individually, but systematically.

It seems incredibly short-sighted—if not naïve—to believe that people who openly speak about wanting Muslims imprisoned or dead somehow share our values.

So what are your thoughts on this trend of Muslim leaders seeking alliance with the right? And can you also address the co-opting of the word “conservative”? Many Muslims assume that being religiously conservative translates to American political conservatism.

Imam Dawud Walid:
I still believe, based on my work on the ground, that the majority of Muslims in America who are politically engaged still incline toward the left or toward progressives. However, there has been a noticeable rise in Muslims leaning toward the right over the past few years.

I even have friends who hold this position—one of them is a scholar—who believes we should ally with the right because the left is morally corrupt.

At the root of this is a crisis of leadership and authority in our community.

For far too long, there has been insufficient collaboration between scholars and activists. People are talking at each other instead of with each other. There is a lack of coordination, and instead, we see fragmentation. It feels like a soft cold war within the American Muslim community.

This became very visible during the last election. I live in Michigan, and the cities of Dearborn and Dearborn Heights—both majority Muslim—voted for Trump. The mayor of Hamtramck, a Yemeni American Muslim, endorsed Trump, as did one of the well-known shuyūkh there, who is also Yemeni American.

Some people continue to excuse far-right figures who mock Rasulullah ﷺ. But we are prohibited from allying with anyone who mocks the Prophet ﷺ. We would never ally with someone who mocked our parents—yet Rasulullah ﷺ is more beloved to us than our parents.

Something is fundamentally wrong with how we approach activism and organizing.

We are not developing fiqh al-awlawiyyāt—a jurisprudence of priorities—based on the objectives of the Sacred Law. Instead, politics has become tribal.

Regarding conservatism: Allah describes this ummah as a middle community. The Prophet ﷺ taught that the best of matters are those in the middle. Imam al-Ghazālī, in Mīzān al-ʿAmal, explains moderation as avoiding both excess and neglect with respect to the Sacred Law.

We are not meant to be aligned with either the left or the right.

Muslims have been trapped in a political duopoly, believing that if we reject the donkey, we must embrace the elephant. But even symbolically, both animals are criticized in the Qur’an.

I remember reading Sūrat al-Jumuʿah during Ramadan and reflecting on how donkeys are used as a metaphor for people who carry knowledge without understanding. Likewise, the Companions of the Elephant are condemned.

We don’t need to label ourselves liberals or conservatives. Those labels belong to a political order that does not define us.

Zainab bint Younus:
What advice would you give to Muslims who believe that, no matter the issue, it is always safer or better to side with the right instead of the left?

I’ve seen Muslims align themselves with evangelical right-wing movements on issues like abortion, for example. Some say that because the left advocates abortion at any stage, Muslims should take the position that life begins at conception and reject even the commonly cited Islamic fiqh position of 120 days, except in extreme cases.

They argue that the right-wing position is closer to the dīn, especially since the right “believes in God.” Personally, I find this ironic because the Christian right’s conception of God is very different from ours, and involves shirk. Meanwhile, the far left often rejects belief in Allah entirely.

There is also a blind spot regarding hypocrisy. Many who promote “family values” on the right are later exposed as pedophiles, rapists, or sexual predators. There are repeated scandals involving far-right figures engaging secretly in homosexual behavior, while publicly condemning it.

Yet Muslims often overlook this, while being hypercritical of the left.

I believe we must be extremely cautious with both sides. We are not meant to be co-opted. We are meant to be our own ummah—moral leaders in society, not followers of false promises from either group.

What advice do you have for Muslims who feel that, regardless of the situation, siding with the right is always the correct choice?

Imam Dawud Walid:
You raised the issue of abortion, so I want to address that directly before returning to broader principles.

In the Mālikī school, once conception occurs, abortion is generally prohibited—this position is actually closer to the Catholic stance. However, all fuqahāʾ agree that if a woman’s life is in danger, abortion is permitted because the life of the living takes precedence over the unborn.

There is legitimate difference of opinion within our tradition. I studied the Mālikī school, and I do not believe Muslims must abandon their jurisprudential positions simply to conform to a majority opinion.

Politics, however, is a dirty game. When we vote or support candidates, much of this falls under ẓannī matters—speculative judgments. We are often choosing what we perceive to be the lesser of two evils.

There is a legal principle that the truly intelligent person is not the one who can distinguish between clear good and clear evil, but the one who can distinguish between two goods and choose the better, or between two harms and avoid the greater.

Sometimes, participation in society requires choosing the lesser of two harms.

It is possible to support a candidate who holds problematic positions while remaining clear about our priorities and the objectives of the Sacred Law. For example, someone might vote for a Republican in a local election due to concerns about public safety, school curricula, or fiscal responsibility.

In another race—state or federal—they might vote for a Democrat or a progressive, or even choose not to vote if they see no clear lesser evil.

This requires clarity on principles and commitment to principles over parties and personalities.

We also must allow space for disagreement. Many political matters are ijtihādī. Disagreement should be brotherly and sisterly—not accusatory. Unfortunately, in the last election, Muslims were labeling one another as sellouts or Uncle Toms.

Take Palestine as an example. We all agree the genocide is wrong. It is permissible to disagree about the means of addressing it.

Many people claimed it was an all-or-nothing issue. Yet both major parties support the Zionist regime at their core. Even figures like Bernie Sanders—whom some Arab Americans referred to as “Amal Bernie,” going so far as to make duʿāʾ for him—are atheists. That kind of behavior reflects a loss of principle.

We become so absorbed in labels that we forget who we are.

Sometimes the safest choice may be to vote only in local elections, or not vote in a particular race at all if harms appear equal.

But this requires nuance, discussion, and mercy among ourselves.

Zainab bint Younus:
The political context in the U.S. is especially difficult. I’m Canadian, so my perspective is different, but American politics tends to dominate global discourse.

I want to highlight something you said earlier about humility—being willing to admit when we are wrong.

Imam Dawud Walid:
Humility is critical. That is what tawbah is about.

I’ll give a personal example. I was one of the imams who supported abandoning Biden and then abandoning Harris, because I believed the Democratic Party could not take the Muslim vote for granted. I believed we had survived Trump’s first term and could survive another.

I voted for a third-party candidate and encouraged others privately to do the same—not from the minbar.

In retrospect, Trump is far worse now than in his first term. He is doing greater harm to society and to Muslims.

I am stating clearly on this MuslimMatters podcast: I made an error in that calculation.

The level of harm we are seeing now—ICE shootings, terrorizing Somali communities, increased support for the Zionist regime, talk of annexing Canada, occupying Greenland, supporting proxy wars like Yemen—this is worse.

I acknowledge that Trump is a greater harm than Kamala Harris. That was my misjudgment.

Zainab bint Younus:
I appreciate your honesty. I hope others reflect similarly.

Imam Dawud Walid:

To be clear, I did not vote for Trump either. I did not join pro-Trump Muslims in Hamtramck or Dearborn Heights, nor did I meet Trump over shawarma.

Zainab bint Younus:

My concern is the spiritual and intellectual health of Muslims—being repeatedly courted and co-opted.

What would you say are the top principles Muslims should keep in mind, both politically and beyond politics, when engaging in social change for the sake of Allah?

Imam Dawud Walid:
I would quote the former Speaker of the House, the late Tip O’Neill, who said that all politics is local.

It is okay for us to have disagreements about local priorities. Unity does not mean uniformity.

America is a very large country. I live in southeastern Michigan, where there are about 300,000 Muslims, and it is one of the densest Muslim populations per capita in the United States. The political environment here is very different from, for example, Dallas–Fort Worth, where there is also a large Muslim population and where Dr. Yasir Qadhi and Dr. Omar Suleiman are based.

Different states have different governors, different laws, and different pressures. In Michigan, for example, there have been attempts to label CAIR and even the Muslim Brotherhood as terrorist organizations—something that the governor does not have the authority to do under state law, and which is currently being challenged in court.

This is why it is essential for the intelligentsia of the community—those learned in Islamic law, those involved in activism and politics, attorneys, immigrants, and those born and raised here—to engage in shūrā, meaningful consultation.

The first principle must be the maqāṣid al-sharīʿah, the objectives of the Sacred Law.

At the top of those objectives is the preservation of dīn. After that comes preservation of life, preservation of intellect (ʿaql), preservation of wealth, and preservation of lineage (nasl).

As Muslims living in the West, our priority must be safeguarding our ability to transmit the dīn to future generations and to practice and propagate Islam.

According to Pew Research data from 2019, one out of every four people born into a Muslim family in America leaves Islam by adulthood. I believe the number is now closer to one in three.

That does not even include those who identify as “cultural Muslims” while rejecting matters that are maʿlūm min al-dīn bi-l-ḍarūrah—core beliefs whose rejection constitutes kufr.

This is an existential crisis.

Our funding priorities, institutional building, and political calculations should be shaped by this reality.

We must also understand levels of necessity within the Sacred Law:

• Ḍarūrī matters — absolute necessities (life and death)
• Ḥājī matters — strong needs that prevent hardship
• Taḥsīnī matters — matters that beautify life but are not essential

Using this framework from uṣūl al-fiqh, we should assess issues locally, nationally, and globally—not emotionally or reactively, but principled.

Unfortunately, many of our decisions today are driven by emotion, social media pressure, or whoever has the loudest microphone.

If we do not mature as a community and return to principled thinking grounded in the dīn, we will regress—regardless of how many doctors, engineers, or entrepreneurs we produce.

Degrees will not save us if our spiritual foundations collapse.

At the same time, this moment presents an opportunity. Americans have lost trust in nearly all institutions—the media, political parties, churches, corporations, even their jobs.

This is one of the greatest opportunities for daʿwah that I have seen in my lifetime.

But we must see ourselves as a people of mission—not as defensive minorities hiding under someone else’s umbrella, nor as people who retreat from society entirely.

If even 25% of Muslims in America could unite around shared principles—without requiring total agreement—we could have significant impact. The same applies to Canada, the UK, and Australia.

Zainab bint Younus:
We often underestimate how much guidance we already have in our own history—especially the sīrah.

Allah took a small, oppressed group and transformed them into a community that ruled vast lands with justice.

We also have countless historical examples of Muslim movements that emerged from severe oppression yet succeeded by holding firmly to faith, engaging difficult conversations, and committing to community building.

Turning back to our history is essential if we want to apply Islam meaningfully in the West.

What would be your final advice for Muslims who want to avoid being co-opted while still engaging in social and political change for the sake of Allah?

Imam Dawud Walid:
My advice has two interconnected parts.

First: truth is unified, but there is a hierarchy of knowledge. The highest form of knowledge comes from the Qur’an and the authentic, widely transmitted Sunnah.

Understanding objective truth requires literacy in Islamic law and uṣūl al-fiqh. Activism and community organizing should not be divorced from this knowledge.

This learning cannot be limited to a small scholarly class. Anyone involved in activism must have a baseline grounding in Islamic legal methodology.

Scholars are the inheritors of the Prophets. Activists must sit at their feet—not cherry-pick āyāt or aḥādīth to justify left- or right-wing political platforms.

Second: spiritual purification (tazkiyat al-nafs) is essential.

Dr. Sherman Abdul-Hakim Jackson often says, “The heart work is the hard work.”

We cannot build unity while egos run unchecked. Much of our division is not intellectual—it is spiritual.

We all agree that genocide in Palestine is wrong, that oppression of the Rohingya is wrong, that deportations are wrong. But diseased hearts prevent cooperation.

This is a problem of the heart, not the head.

History shows us the solution. During the First Crusade, Jerusalem fell and 70,000 Muslims were slaughtered within weeks. Muslims could not pray in al-Masjid al-Aqṣā for 98 years.

Yet Jerusalem was eventually reclaimed by Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn.

How?

Through revival, education in the dīn, and tazkiyah. It is said that half of Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn’s army were students of Shaykh ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī, and the other half were influenced by the teachings of Imām al-Ghazālī.

Arabs, Persians, Africans followed a Kurdish leader because hearts were purified and united.

That is the work we must prioritize.

Hard work is the hard work. I’ve spoken about this often, especially since the genocide in Gaza began. During the First Crusade, Jerusalem was taken, and according to Ibn al-Athīr, 70,000 people were killed within five weeks. That number is comparable to what we’ve seen in the first weeks of this most recent genocide—except the Crusaders didn’t have bombs, helicopters, white phosphorus, or cluster munitions.

Muslims were barred from praying in al-Masjid al-Aqṣā for 98 years.

Yet those who were slaughtered and humiliated eventually reclaimed Jerusalem. How? Through revival, through education in the sciences of the dīn, and especially through tazkiyat al-nafs.

It is reported that roughly half of Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn’s army came from the educational legacy of Shaykh ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī al-Ḥanbalī (raḥimahu Allāh), and the other half from the intellectual and spiritual influence of Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī.

You had Arabs, Persians, and Africans united under a Kurdish leader. They did not say, “We must be led only by someone from our ethnicity.” Their hearts were purified, and they followed righteousness.

This is the priority for us today.

May Allah purify our hearts, grant us gratitude, guide us as an ummah, and unite us as brothers and sisters in faith.

Zainab bint Younus:
Āmīn. JazakAllahu khayran for your advice, your reflections, and for sharing your experience and wisdom with us.

I truly appreciate this conversation and the time you took to engage with these difficult but necessary topics.

For Muslims in the West—and indeed Muslims everywhere—it is critical that we reflect on the role each of us plays in the revival of the ummah. Our priorities cannot be selfish, nor can they be partisan in the sense of allowing ourselves to be co-opted by political groups for their own agendas.

We must consistently return to what Allah asks of us in every aspect of our lives—beginning with our families, especially given the alarming number of Muslim children who drift away from the dīn.

We ask Allah to guide us all back to Islam and to strengthen us upon it, so that we may become an ummah of positive change—bringing others to Islam not only through ritual observance, but through embodying the holistic ethos of the dīn.

That means improving society as a whole: eradicating poverty, addressing food insecurity, supporting struggling families, defending the rights of immigrants and refugees, and addressing the social ills that affect Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

We are not meant to live in silos, focused only on ourselves. Islam obligates us to care for our neighbors and the broader society in which we live.

Thank you again, Imam Dawud, for joining us.

To our listeners: I strongly recommend picking up Towards Sacred Activism. It provides a valuable framework for navigating these issues—whether you’re reading the news, engaging with peers on campus, participating in masjid discussions, or having difficult conversations with family members.

Check out MuslimMatters daily at muslimmatters.org.
Thank you for listening, and we’ll see you next time, in shāʾ Allāh.

As-salāmu ʿalaykum wa raḥmatullāhi wa barakātuh.

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