Bo-Jo’s Muslim view isn’t one I recognise
When I was pregnant with my youngest son, now three, I almost fainted on the way to work.
It was rush hour and I felt so bad that I had to sit on the ground at Oxford Circus tube station in London.
People walked around me, a few threw concerned glances over their shoulders but most continued on their way. A young man stopped and asked if I was OK. I said I was, and that all I needed was a minute to get myself together.
He stayed with me, insisted on carrying my bag and helped me up the stairs and escalators. Once we got outside he said he would come with me to my office even though it meant he would be late for uni.
He didn’t leave my side until I was safely at my desk. His name was Mohammed, a young Muslim student from West London.
I think of him every time Islamophobia rears its ugly head and people like Boris Johnson try to demonise entire communities. There are rotten apples in all countries and in people from all walks of life. But my faith in people is restored by the likes of Mohammed.
I don’t recognise the caricature of Muslims that Bo-Jo was trying to draw with his weak “jokes” about women in burkas.
Would he stop to help a pregnant woman in distress? No chance. He’d be too busy selling his own grandmother in a desperate bid to become the next Prime Minister.