But because I criticized the misogynistic treatment of women in predominantly Muslim societies, I was accused of racism. Against my own people.

I had just been accused of racism by a liberal. As an American human rights activist, she had a respectable track record of advocacy. In her free time, she volunteered at Planned Parenthood. Her stances on gender equality, racial justice, individual liberties and religious freedom were unmistakably progressive.

I froze for a second. Although every cell in my body was urging me to respond, I could not utter a single word.

...because I criticized the misogynistic treatment of women in predominantly Muslim societies, I was accused of racism. Against my own people.

In the wake of the terrorist attacks in Paris one year ago, Donald Trump called for banning all Muslims from entering the United States. I rolled my eyes. Not because his rhetoric was utterly hateful and discriminatory, but because, deep inside, I knew that it would push many of his liberal opponents to take on the cause of defending Islam. And so they did.

In a televised debate at Drake University in Iowa last November, former Democratic presidential candidate Martin O’Malley said, “We are going to be able to defeat ISIS because of the Muslim Americans in our country and throughout the world who understand that this brutal and barbaric group is perverting the name of a great world religion.”

Such is the pervasiveness of America’s polarized political discourse on Islam post-9/11. Whatever stances the right-wing espouses, liberals are compelled to advocate for the total opposite. What is lost in between is a crucial discussion on the role of religion in perpetuating injustice and violence in countries governed by Islamic law. As Republicans and Democrats settle their scores, nuance and context take a backseat.

I am what you might call a recovering Muslim. In 2013, I left the religion I grew up with at considerable risk to my safety. I did not and do not share O’Malley’s opinion that Islam is a “great world religion.” But, unlike him, I could not afford the luxury of my opinions. In my homeland, Morocco, we do not have a First Amendment. If you leave Islam, the police of the Commander of the Faithful will throw you in jail. That is if angry mobs do not get to you first.

Imagine my surprise as a newly free immigrant in the United States, then, when I was accused of reinforcing Islamophobia each time I criticize Islam. I found out the hard way that liberal opinion-makers had coined a term for the likes of me: “native informant.”

At least I was not the only one. The same slur is thrown at Egyptian feminist Mona Eltahawy, whose life’s work consists of documenting instances of gender oppression in the Arab world. To say nothing of British author Salman Rushdie, against whom a death fatwa was issued after his book "The Satanic Verses" was published.

Taking on these exiled figures, American Mideast scholar Monica Marks writes that their “...personal testimonies of oppression under Islam have generated significant support for military aggression against Muslim-majority countries in recent years.”