Everyday racial encounters have come to define my life as a young Muslim male in Australia. Whether it is the lady clutching her purse as I stand behind her at the supermarket counter or security keeping a close eye on me as I walk into the store. Or whether it is yet another Islamophobic article that endeavours to fashion us as sexually violent maniacs.

There is a lot written about young Muslim men, hardly anything written by young Muslim men.

Paul Sheehan’s story on “Louise” is a purposefully reckless attempt at perpetuating a constant stereotype about Muslim men. That we are sexually violent predators. The careless verification by Sheehan about an alleged vicious attack on a white woman by a gang of “Arabic-speaking” men has painful consequences for victims and survivors of sexual assaults. And, personally, it has damaging effects on how I and other young Muslim men are perceived in Australian society.

I am not entirely surprised by Sheehan’s Islamo-centric fantasy; he is simply perpetuating a narrative that has continued to shape the lives of young Muslims in Australia. A narrative that binds us into the image of a hypersexual brown body. A body that can only expresses itself in violence. A body which carries out such unspeakable crimes in large groups like a pack of wolves. And because of these ideas young Muslim men are continuously policed throughout their lives. Constantly excluded from daily life. And consistently pushed to the margins of society.

Paul Sheehan apologises for failing to check story of gang-rape by Arabic-speaking men Read more

My friends and I cannot walk the streets of certain suburbs without receiving subtle gazes from suspicious onlookers. At times glaring at us anxiously, as if our presence is an indication of an oncoming assault. What inevitably follows is the convenient arrival of police officers that immediately question our purpose for being “there”. Having lunch or shopping is not a satisfactory answer for our threatening presence. As if our intentions are more sinister than simply having an afternoon meal.

Stereotypes pedalled by the like of Sheehan are much more powerful than any answer I can provide. No amount of reasoning can combat such potent stereotypes that essentially remove my ability to articulate. Any attempt at explaining myself has already been defined by the stereotypes that circulate around me.

It’s difficult moving in a world that strictly positions you in light of your potential to commit violence. I remember a pair of police officers stopping me and three other friends because we looked like “gangsters”. No gang-affiliated tattoos. Not even gang insignia on our clothing. Plain jumpers and jeans were sufficient indicators of a supposed gang affiliation.



“Everyone around here is pretty much wearing the same kind of clothing, officer,” as I attempted to defend ourselves.

“They may dress the same. But they don’t look like you guys,” he said.

I didn’t know what he meant then. I do now.

We weren’t simply four friends hanging out. We became a gang. And of course a group of more than three Arab-looking males is a gang rape waiting to happen.

When words like “terror” and “violence” stick to the identity of young Muslim men, in due course it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We begin to realise that we are only heard when we commit violence. At other times our voices are completely restrained. Beyond violence we are provided no other means of expression.

Even using my position as a law student as a means of expression has been ridiculed countless times. As if the designated role of a young Muslim man is either that of a “terrorist” or a “thug”. While people like Paul Sheehan are provided far-reaching platforms to speak about us, it has effects. There are consequences. Real-life barriers are constructed that inhibit our agency.

In a heightened climate of Islamophobia, and in the midst of a “war on terror” targeting radicalised youth, life for a young Muslim male has become difficult. And Paul Sheehan’s misguided attempt at storytelling will not make our lives any easier.