Muslim Americans who migrated to the South seeking economic opportunity and community are now confronting a rising tide of anti-Islamic rhetoric from Republican politicians. What was once a region where some Muslim voters found common cause with conservative positions on family values and individual liberty has transformed into hostile political territory. The shift has been particularly sharp in recent months, as Republican politicians have seized on anti-Muslim sentiment as a replacement for immigration rhetoric that dominated the Biden era.
Amal Altareb, a Yemeni American who moved to Memphis in 2012, represents the broader wave of Muslim migration southward driven by economic promise and family networks. But today, she and thousands like her face a political environment markedly different from the one they encountered a decade ago. The change has been swift and pronounced, reaching a level of hostility not witnessed since the post-September 11 surge in anti-Muslim sentiment.
In Tennessee, the flashpoint of this conflict became visible when more than 100 Muslim students and community leaders gathered at the State Capitol in Nashville to testify against a series of bills they view as discriminatory and religiously motivated. Coordinated by the American Muslim Advisory Council, the lobbying effort saw young Muslim students, including one in an emerald-green hijab, pleading with state lawmakers to reconsider proposals they described as unjust.
The specific bills under attack reveal the breadth of the anti-Muslim legislative agenda. Proposals included requiring Tennessee to adopt the biblical term "Judea and Samaria" when referring to the occupied West Bank—a move with clear ideological implications. Another bill would mandate that driver's license exams be administered exclusively in English, effectively making it more difficult for non-English speakers, a disproportionate share of whom are immigrants and religious minorities. Most provocatively, several bills were explicitly designed, as Republicans framed it, to counter what they saw as "the rising influence of Islam."
"Muslims are trying to Islamify Tennessee. They want conquest," Representative Andy Ogles, a Tennessee Republican, wrote on social media.
The language deployed by Republican politicians has grown increasingly inflammatory. Representative Andy Ogles' posts accusing Muslims of attempting to "Islamify" Tennessee and seeking "conquest" exemplify the stark rhetoric now common in state legislative debates. These aren't fringe comments from political outsiders—they come from sitting lawmakers shaping policy.
What's happening in Tennessee is not an isolated phenomenon. From the Carolinas to Florida to Texas, anti-Muslim sentiment has permeated state legislatures and political campaigns across the entire South. The geographic scope suggests a coordinated or at least synchronized political strategy among conservative politicians to make anti-Muslim rhetoric a centerpiece of their campaigns and legislative agendas.
The timing is strategic. Conservative politicians, deprived of the border chaos that served as a reliable attack line during the Biden administration, shifted back to what one might call an "old standby." But the recent U.S.-Israeli military operations against Iran have provided new fuel for anti-Muslim political messaging, causing the rhetoric to intensify sharply.
Central to this political assault is the term "Shariah"—a reference to traditional Islamic rules and jurisprudence. In the hands of conservative politicians, Shariah has become a catchall accusation, divorced from its actual meaning and deployed as an insinuation that Muslim beliefs are fundamentally incompatible with American society. The term functions as a political weapon rather than a descriptor, allowing politicians to invoke fears of cultural invasion without making specific, defensible arguments.
This rhetorical strategy represents a return to post-9/11 messaging, but with a renewed intensity. For many Muslim Americans who relocated to the South believing they were building lives in communities that valued diversity and economic opportunity, the shift feels like a betrayal. The political environment that welcomed their entrepreneurship and participation now casts them as cultural threats.
The resurgence of anti-Muslim politics reflects a deliberate strategic choice by Republican politicians searching for galvanizing issues after immigration rhetoric lost some of its potency. Rather than abandoning identity-based politics, they've simply switched targets. The calculation is that anti-Muslim sentiment remains a reliable tool for mobilizing certain voter blocs, even as it alienates the very Muslim Americans who might have once been persuadable Republican voters based on social conservatism.
Gist is a free Chrome extension that instantly creates AI-powered summaries and key takeaways for any article or podcast on the web.
Add to Chrome — It's Free