Imagine an eager student anticipating a lecture by a prominent expert. This student, equipped with a notebook and pen, arrives early to ensure a place in the front row. Now imagine that the student is prohibited from entering the lecture hall; she needs to go to an adjacent, smaller room, where she will be able to watch the lecture from a grainy projection screen.
The disappointment, indignation and injustice felt by this enthusiastic student is exactly what I feel each time I go to the local mosque. I wish I could refer to it as “my mosque”; but the possessive pronoun implies a sense of ownership I cannot claim.
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