Why are Muslims trusted to serve but questioned when they lead? | Opinion
Abdullahi Ahmed, Ed.D., of Portland is a naturalized citizen who came to the U.S. as a refugee from Somalia. He has worked for the Portland Public Schools since 2001.
The same person is trusted to heal as a doctor, and questioned when he leads because he is a Muslim. There is a striking contradiction in the way Muslim citizens are treated in contemporary Western societies, particularly in the U.S.
Muslims are deeply embedded in the professions and institutions that keep these societies functioning. They are doctors, nurses, pharmacists, engineers, teachers, professors, lawyers, scientists, entrepreneurs, social workers and public servants. They work in hospitals, universities, schools, transportation, businesses and government agencies. They pay taxes, raise families, create jobs and serve their neighbors.
Yet, for Muslims, a strange boundary appears when they move from professional service to political leadership. They may be trusted with people’s health, education, transportation, businesses and even lives, but when they seek elected office, their identity can suddenly become a subject of suspicion.
Dr. Abdul El-Sayed is a physician, public health expert and former Detroit Health Department director. In August 2026, he won the Democratic nomination for the United States Senate in Michigan. He is now positioned to become the first Muslim elected to the U.S. Senate.
And here is the paradox. If you were seriously ill in Michigan, would you question whether Dr. El-Sayed was sufficiently American to treat you? Would you ask whether his religion made him less capable of diagnosing your illness? Would you refuse his medical care because his parents were Egyptian? Probably not. You would want to know whether he was competent, qualified and trustworthy. You would want the best doctor.
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But when that same doctor seeks to represent millions of Americans in the United States Senate, a different conversation begins. Suddenly, his Muslim identity can become central to the political debate. Questions of loyalty, extremism, foreign influence and whether he truly belongs can overshadow the qualifications, experience and policies that would ordinarily define a political candidate.
That is the double standard worth examining. It is not that Muslims should be immune from political criticism. They should not. A Muslim candidate should be scrutinized as rigorously as anyone else. His policies, judgment, record, alliances and political philosophy should all be examined.
The problem begins when Muslim identity itself becomes evidence against a candidate. El-Sayed’s Senate campaign illustrates this tension.
After winning the Democratic primary, Republican candidate Mike Rogers was reported to have called him an extremist and accused him of believing that America deserved Sept. 11. El-Sayed rejected the attack and argued that it represented the politics of division.
The significance of such rhetoric goes beyond one election. It raises a fundamental question: How can a citizen be trusted to care for Americans as a doctor but be treated as an outsider when seeking to represent Americans as a senator, and the unspoken entitlement of white men to political power? What makes Mike Rogers and Donald Trump more American and competent than Dr. El-Sayed?
It is well documented that American Muslims are one of the most educated communities in the U.S. The 2025 American Muslim Poll found that 36% of American Muslims hold a bachelor’s degree or higher, roughly equal to the general American population, while 47% were currently enrolled in educational programs.
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Muslims are also highly active in professional and civic life. Walk into a hospital in New York City and the chances of encountering a Muslim healthcare worker are high. You may meet a Muslim physician, nurse, pharmacist, technician, researcher or administrator. The same is true in Detroit, Chicago, Minneapolis, Houston, Los Angeles and many other American cities.
Nobody finds this particularly remarkable anymore. That is progress. But it also exposes the contradiction.
America has become comfortable with the idea of a Muslim serving Americans. The more difficult question, for white supremacists, appears to be whether a Muslim should exercise political power on behalf of Americans.
The same pattern can be seen in the treatment of Congresswomen Rashida Tlaib and Ilhan Omar. President Donald Trump told Tlaib and Omar, both Democrats, to “go back” to the countries they supposedly came from. At a subsequent rally, supporters chanted “send her back” about Omar. Whatever one’s political views, the language transformed a political disagreement into a question of belonging.
That distinction matters. A senator can be wrong. A congresswoman can be wrong. A mayor can be wrong. Their policies can be criticized, their votes challenged and their political judgment questioned. But the question of whether they belong is different. When a Muslim politician is told, directly or indirectly, that he or she belongs somewhere else, the implication is that political authority remains somehow conditional upon religious conformity or belonging to a specific ethnicity.
This is where the historical and cultural dimensions of the issue intersect. Muslims in Western societies have frequently been viewed through the lens of national security. Islam has been discussed and socialized alongside terrorism, extremism, radicalization, immigration and foreign threats. It is a problematic outcome when those concerns become attached, consciously, to Islam and Muslims as a population.
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The result is a peculiar hierarchy of trust. The Muslim doctor is trusted. The Muslim nurse is trusted. The Muslim engineer is trusted. The Muslim teacher is trusted. The Muslim scientist is trusted. The Muslim business owner is trusted. But the Muslim politician may suddenly be required to prove that he is not an outsider. That is not simply a question of prejudice. It is a question of political belonging.
Americans often celebrate performative diversity expressed through food and culture. But political power is different. White men determine who makes decisions, who controls resources, who writes laws and who defines the future. In other words, a minority community can be welcomed as a contributor while still being viewed with suspicion as a potential decision-maker.
This is the deeper meaning of the double standard. The issue is therefore not whether Muslims and other minorities should receive special treatment. They should not. The issue is whether they should receive equal treatment.
If a Muslim citizen is qualified to become a doctor, that qualification should not disappear when he becomes a political candidate. If that citizen can be trusted with the life of an American patient, there should be no automatic reason to distrust him with the vote of an American citizen.
If a Muslim woman can be trusted to educate American children, manage a hospital department or run a business, her citizenship should not become questionable when she seeks elected office. And if Muslims are expected to demonstrate their loyalty through decades of service, then that service should count as evidence of belonging rather than merely as evidence that they are useful.
This is why the story of Abdul El-Sayed is larger than one Senate campaign. His candidacy forces America to confront an uncomfortable question: Is a Muslim fully American when he serves, but somehow less American when he leads? The answer, in a genuine and fair community, must be no. Citizenship cannot be divided into two categories: citizens who are trusted to serve and citizens who are trusted to govern.
The real test for Americans is therefore not whether Muslims are allowed to participate in society. They already do so, every day. The real test is whether the Americans are prepared to accept Muslims not merely as professionals and workers who serve the public, but as citizens who have an equal right to shape the public future.
America has already shown that it can trust Abdul El-Sayed to care for people as a doctor. The question now is whether it can recognize him as equally entitled to represent people as a senator. If you trust him with your life, why should you distrust him with your vote? That is the question at the heart of the double standard.
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