There’s something about a cup of tea that makes me feel like everything’s going to be alright. It’s the great British balm — applied to heartbreak, hailstorms, and those moments when someone says something so jaw-droppingly shocking you’re not quite sure you heard it right.
There’s something about a cup of tea that makes me feel like everything’s going to be alright. It’s the great British balm — applied to heartbreak, hailstorms, and those moments when someone says something so jaw-droppingly shocking you’re not quite sure you heard it right.
It happened over breakfast last weekend.
I had arrived on a short residential course — four strangers gathered in a leafy corner of the countryside, to learn together about the wonders of trees. One of them, let’s call her Jane, looked my kind of age, and we established that we both had a child getting married.
As we all drank our tea at our first breakfast, Jane began asking about my headscarf. I’m always happy to chat and, as I’m white, British, and visibly Muslim, I’m used to occasional inquisitiveness. So I answered Jane’s questions openly. But then, as the topics Jane raised grew more political over toast, she leaned in and said something so offensive about Muslims that I can’t repeat it here ending – chillingly - with: “I’ve done a course on coexistence - and I’ve concluded we can’t co-exist.”
Now I’ve had better breakfasts.
Jane said this with the same tone someone might use to comment on the jam. Calm. Assured. And in her mind, completely reasonable. I was utterly shocked. Speechless. We coexisted for the day without exchanging another word. I left early.
God says in the Qur’an, the Book Muslims turn to for guidance: “We made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another.” Not to fear one another. Not to label whole groups as uncivilised rabble. Just… to know one another.
To me, it shows that community is built not on sameness, but on curiosity. Curiosity to step beyond our assumptions, and to be open-minded enough to listen. Sometimes communities don’t fall apart in dramatic clashes. They fray when we stop being willing to talk respectfully with people we don’t understand.
But if community means anything, it also means not giving up on people — even when they say things that feel impossible to forgive. So now I’ve reflected, here’s what I’d like to say, if Jane’s listening: Come over sometime. Let’s sit under the trees. I’ll put the kettle on.
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