I’m tired. To log on every day and read about Muslim women having their hijabs ripped off, the graves of Muslims desecrated and businesses and mosques left in ruin is exhausting. To see people draped in England flags storming and burning hotels housing people seeking asylum is exhausting. To read about more planned riots outside immigration service centres up and down the country is exhausting. To simply exist in the UK as a Muslim woman is exhausting. But, sadly, it’s not surprising.

If you ask any Muslim or racialised person in the last week whether they’re shocked by the riots that have engulfed the nation, they’d probably say no, not really. Because you only have to look at the language and narrative pushed by successive governments in the past decade to see where some of these far-right chants are coming from. When people hold up signs that say ‘stop the boats’, it can be linked back to Rishi Sunak’s government and his immigration policies. When individuals accuse Muslims of grooming children or paedophilia, that’s because many right-wing (and some left-leaning) media outlets have pushed that narrative for years – linking ethnicity and religious identity to these heinous crimes.

It’s exactly what happened when misinformation was spread online about the identity of the suspect in Southport, who has been charged with the murders of three young girls. He was said to be “born to Rwandan parents” and of a Muslim background. This misinformation took social media platforms by storm and gave far-right groups, including the English Defence League, the ammunition they needed to mobilise on mass against Muslims, racialised communities and migrants.

Islamophobia is still prevalent in this country, particularly in a post-9/11 world. The fact I’m still having conversations with people, both online and offline, in 2024 about whether Islamophobia is a ‘real’ form of racism or prejudice speaks volumes to just how normalised it is in our society. Our own prime minister can’t even use the term Islamophobia to describe the riots. Muslims are seen as inherently different, particularly hijab-wearing Muslim women, and we’re constantly isolated, alienated and othered. I’ll always remember David Cameron’s 2011 government attempting to “integrate” Muslim women into society by offering them English language lessons. Or how the counter-terrorism policy, Prevent, has policed and over-securitised our lives based only on our faith and beliefs. Or that when my family and I go on holiday, we have to mentally prepare ourselves every time for the likelihood of being ‘randomly’ searched at airports and border security. Or how I’m regularly told to “go home” or “you’re not British”. As well as both Conservative and Labour governments, the media has also played a huge role in creating and reinforcing a moral panic around my community.

Who could forget the BBC Woman’s Hour interview in 2021 with the then-newly elected general secretary of the Muslim Council of Britain, Zara Mohammed. The presenter, Emma Barnett, steered the conversation to questions about female imams and the exclusion of some Muslim women from society, rather than Mohammed’s historic appointment as the first-ever woman elected to the post, and persisted with her line of questioning even after Mohammed stated she didn’t know the answers to her questions. The Woman’s Hour interview was widely criticised by high-profile figures and resulted in an open letter being signed by over 100 politicians, writers and other prominent figures, stating that Barnett “appeared intent on reinforcing damaging and prejudicial tropes” about Islam.

More recently, the Labour MP Zarah Sultana appeared on Good Morning Britain to discuss the current violence and was met with interruptions, sneering and mocking from the hosts and the rest of the panel. It comes as no surprise that a Muslim woman in the public sphere is met with such contempt when attempting to talk about Islamophobia on national television. I only have to look at the comment sections and messages on my social media accounts to see exactly the same rhetoric.

Some media outlets have also reported on the riots using problematic and biased language. Over the past few days, I’ve seen the riots described as a “pro-British march”, “pockets of disorder”, “anti-immigration protests” and “far-right activists”. But these terms only serve to reinforce a particular narrative – that this violence is some sort of political protest or activist movement, when it’s not. This reporting and use of language validates the far-right’s ‘concerns’ instead of firmly condemning their harm and violence.

It’s a dark and terrifying time we’re living in. Many of us are fearful, stressed, deflated, angry and on edge. And so tired. I’ve become hyper-aware of myself in public situations, particularly on public transport or when navigating my way home at night. And that awareness is so much more for visibly Muslim women who have been targeted by the far-right, past and present. But when we see headlines and front pages that use diminishing and dismissive language, it only adds fuel to the fire. We have to call this violence what it is: racist and Islamophobic.

“Islamophobia has been normalised in the UK for years, and I’m exhausted”