TLC's much-ballyhooed All-American Muslim reality show makes its agenda clear in its opening sequences: shots of a hijabbed girl roller-skating, Muslims dancing at a wedding, an American flag waving proudly in the breeze, and newspaper clippings proclaiming "4 in 10 Americans 'suspicious' of Muslims," "Outrage at Ground Zero 'Mosque,'" and "Muslims Brace for Backlash." The point of the show is to depict Muslims as ordinary folks just like you and me who are subjected to unjust suspicion.
And so we meet one zaftig girl who loves to have fun and go to clubs, and who is in the process of getting married. Another young woman, provocatively dressed by Muslim standards, is trying to open up a club of her own. A young hijab-wearing wife shares the joy of her pregnancy with her loving husband. They're balancing the demands of faith and family with life's daily pressures, just like most Americans. So why—the show implies—are non-Muslim Americans so mean to them?
Yet it is noteworthy that both the woman who is getting married and the one who is trying to open a club acknowledge that they are not all that religious. And that is the problem at the heart of All-American Muslim. The Muslims it depicts are for the most part undoubtedly harmless, completely uninterested in jihad and Islamic supremacism (although there is a notable undertone of something quite different here and there, such as when the career woman's "friend and business partner Mahmoud" tells her, his voice full of quiet menace, that a Muslim woman is really better off tending to her family than opening a club).