(RNS) — Last month, Muslims marked Eid al-Fitr amid war in Iran and surrounding countries, continued bombings in Gaza, violence in Sudan, crushing immigration enforcement and rising anti-Muslim attacks and verbiage, coupled with fear permeating in American Muslim communities as Islamophobic political efforts rise.

That didn’t stop about 480 Muslims and interfaith allies from gathering in Washington, D.C., in late March for a celebration that deliberately centered strength and joy, purposefully called An American Eid. The Muslim Public Affairs Council’s Eid celebration was an organized respite from and a clap back to anti-Muslim attacks and rhetoric that have ratcheted up the past few months — that includes mosques (and a Utah-based imam) being shot at or vandalized, and bigoted statements against Muslims by members of Congress.

“The idea was, listen, we’re celebrating Eid. Deal with it,” said Haris Tarin, MPAC’s vice president of policy and programming. “This is who we are. In the moment of such difficulty, you’re not going to take this away from us.”

MPAC’s goal to instill joy was a success. But can one evening of strength and solidarity be enough to buoy the resolve of nearly 4.5 million Muslims in the United States against the reemergence of a Republican-led Sharia Free America Caucus backing numerous anti-Muslim bills?

Three federal anti-Shariah bills and at least five state-level ones have been introduced, including Oklahoma legislation arguing that Islam is not a religion and therefore doesn’t deserve religious protection.

Back in November 2025, Texas Republican Gov. Greg Abbott declared the Council on American-Islamic Relations, a national civil rights organization with chapters across the country, a terrorist organization. In February, Republican Florida Rep. Randy Fine tweeted that he would choose dogs over Muslims, and in March, Tennessee Republican Rep. Andy Ogles tweeted “Muslims don’t belong in American society.” Even President Donald Trump, in his massive power play threatening to wipe out an entire civilization before coming to a ceasefire agreement with Iran, not only casually threatened genocide, but did so while pairing it with the phrase “Praise Allah.”

President Donald Trump pretends to aim a sniper gun while speaking with reporters in the James Brady Press Briefing Room at the White House, April 6, 2026, in Washington. (AP Photo/Julia Demaree Nikhinson)

But maybe that question is wrong. While one evening probably doesn’t have the power to stem the tide of Islamophobic statements and acts of violence of the past several months, it does serve as a powerful example of the ways many American Muslims are choosing unapologetic empowerment combined with strategic, meaningful and nonperformative allyships. They are walking a careful line between maintaining public pressure against what many Muslim communities are enduring, and rising above victimhood status.

“We’re still super tiny [as a collective community in the U.S.], but we have made major, major strides,” said Asma Uddin, a lawyer, author and assistant professor at Michigan State University who studies religious freedom. “There is a more sophisticated discourse we need to enter at this point. It’s not all about persecution and victimhood. It’s not all about minority rights.” 

In 2019, Uddin’s first book, “When Islam Is Not a Religion: Inside America’s Fight for Religious Freedom,” explored the politicization of faith in America and how the movement that claims Islam isn’t a religion went “from fringe to mainstream,” as she puts it. She goes on to explain that such movements could constitute an immense loss of liberties for more than just Muslims.

Around the time her book was published, American Muslim communities were coming through another wave of anti-Shariah rhetoric and proposed legislation at state and federal levels. This whipped-up, frenzied focus came at the tail end of a nearly two-decade period — from post-9/11 through two terms of President Barack Obama into Trump’s first term — when Muslim communities continually wrestled with how to respond to Islamophobic acts and speech. They were also reckoning with internalized racism and how to interact with government and public institutions as a whole.

Twenty-plus years of post 9/11 discourse and civic engagement grew around competing themes for Muslims of proving worth, pushing back, engaging from within systems, disengaging and building power. And although Muslim communities have grown in strength across areas of civic engagement, holding political office and presence in American society in general, it doesn’t surprise Uddin that demonizing Islam is once again de rigueur. But where we are now is different.

“We are more rooted now than we were post 9/11,” Tarin told me. “That is why Islamophobia is 1777050170 more intense, because they know that American Muslims now have a little more influence. They are able to push back, whether it’s at the ballot box or [through] litigation or in advocacy, or in the purchasing and buying power of American Muslims.

“We definitely are more well positioned. That’s why this anti-Muslim sentiment is more fierce,” he said. “In the midst of all that, we came to the conclusion that we have to celebrate. Because [along with all forms of building power], joy and celebration is an act of resistance and resilience.”

The hard-pressed movement of joy as resistance has grown since the terrible events of Oct. 7, 2023, and the horrific bombing campaign and genocide in Gaza, as declared by Amnesty International and other human rights groups, that followed. The movement is backed by deliberate, strategic moves from American Muslim communities to seek partnerships with and hold elected offices, build coalitions, increase philanthropic work, deepen civic engagement with trusted allies and burn down what historically has never worked to build better systems. They also are living as unapologetically as possible.

The challenge for U.S. Muslims, along with numerous other minority communities, is to find a way to lean into their growing power and not live perpetually in fear and worry. The threats facing them include anti-Muslim rhetoric and related legislation aimed at stripping numerous religious, speech, health, disability and other rights. But our communities must also stay vigilant, proactive and strategic. 

“I don’t think it ever helps to be apathetic,” Uddin said. “Rights don’t defend themselves.”

Tarin agreed, saying, “I don’t know if we can find balance, but we can find solace in that when we do have moments of joy, it’s fuel to continue our fight and our struggle.”

And while the Eid celebration was about joy, Tarin said that’s not where Muslims will end their efforts: “Joy is the beginning. Joy gives us the ability to speak truth to power. It gives us the ability to bring partners into the room and get them on board. 

“But even this struggle, this fight we’re in to save democracy and push back against nationalism and extremism, even in that process we need to bring joy into the mix,” he said. “We are doing something that is bigger than ourselves in making sure people are seeing our humanity, that we’re not just a community of victims. We have so much success, so much to celebrate in the American Muslim community.”

(Dilshad D. Ali is a freelance journalist. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of RNS.)