I grew up in an Ahmedi congregation in suburban Cleveland. It was about 50% African-American and 50% post-60s Pakistani or Indian immigrants with the odd old-time immigrant family (mine) who intermarried or white converts. (My great grandfather famously had Elijah Muhammad to dinner on one of his visits to Cleveland.)
Later as I grew up I realized just how unusual that sort of integration was among any congregation, not just Christian or Islamic. When I read Vivek Bald’s book Bengali Harlem: The Lost Histories of South Asian America, I realized that actually this was the norm in the 20s-60s for South Asian immigrants of all backgrounds.
This has led to some befuddlement amongst others. A black City Councilperson in New Orleans egged a crowd on to call my cousin from Islamabad names based on his origin for trying to set up a tiny house village for homeless people in a residential neighborhood in Eastern New Orleans. I roared back at him that it pained me to see someone that looked like my grandmother beating up on my cousin, mentioned that my congregation met in a formerly AME church and kept the pews for years and shame on him for assuming we are all carpetbaggers. He turned to me and said “You are presumed to be what you look like.” I’ve never been happier to see someone lose an election.