The most recent example recently appeared in The Washington Post, kicking off a series on American Muslims pegged to the upcoming 10th anniversary of the atrocities carried out by self-proclaimed Islamic holy warriors on Sept. 11, 2001. Marc Fisher, a veteran journalist whose work I usually admire, profiled Fawaz Ismail, proprietor of a thriving Virginia flag-selling business. Before 9/11, he felt so all-American that he called himself "Tony." But after 9/11, "Ismail felt his adopted homeland pushing him away."
In what manner? Did people threaten him? Did they hurl racial or religious epithets? Did they boycott his business? Did they tell him to get out of the country? Did they call for a ban on Muslim immigrants? Trust me: If anything like that had happened, Fisher would have included it.
But all that happened was what Fisher reports: Ismail had a bad feeling about his fellow Americans. So he "decided to push back." He stopped calling himself Tony. "A lot of people use a nickname to make it easier for Americans to pronounce," he says, "but now, I don't care. They're going to have to pronounce my name. It's not that hard - Fah-wahz."
There was, Fisher explains, "pride in that decision but also a real and still-growing anger" - though not, curiously, directed at the terrorists who incinerated thousands of Tony/Fawaz's fellow American citizens, justifying this barbarism in the name of his religion and thereby staining it.
No, he is angry at "Americans who assume that anything Islamic is shorthand for terrorism." Who are these Americans? President George W. Bush who called Islam "a religion of peace"? President Barack Obama who went to Cairo to pay his respects to "the Muslim world"? The many Christian and Jewish groups that have initiated inter-faith programs in recent years?
Coincidently, the same day this article came out, The Wall Street Journal ran a front-page piece by Yaroslav Trofimov on Egypt's Coptic Christians. They, too, are feeling persecuted. But for Ayman Anwar Mitri it's not just a feeling. Islamic militants set fire to his home. When he went inside, they beat him with the charred remains of his furniture. Then they cut off his ear with a box cutter.
Not to worry. Qureishi Salama, an Egyptian Islamist leader, told Trofimov: "Only those Christians who did something wrong should be fearful."
I read both the Trofimov and Fisher articles while attending a conference on terrorism in the Canadian capital of Ottawa. Two of the speakers at the conference were practicing Muslims. Neither felt pushed away, alienated or angry at non-Muslims.
Instead, Salim Mansur, an author and professor at the University of Western Ontario, emphasized to the gathering how serious is the threat posed to Canada, America and Europe because, he said, "jihadism is a means to snuff out the democratic experiment."
Raheel Raza is an award-winning writer, diversity consultant and grass roots activist. She is concerned about the "hundreds of Islamic schools training young Muslims to become jihadis and terrorists."
Near the end of his article, Fisher quotes an American Muslim who "heard an imam - 'a guy with a long beard and a Saudi dagger' - teach that music is forbidden and dancing is forbidden and boys and girls should be educated separately. 'I went to this imam's board members and I said, 'Look at what you're shoving into your children.' There were 700 people in that room listening to that crazy guy. And the board members said, 'Yes, we know, but we don't know what to do.'"
Why don't they know what to do? Would it be dangerous to stand up to such an imam? Or does the imam come not just with a Saudi dagger but also with Saudi money that's difficult to refuse? The story provides no clue.
Perhaps that's because reporting on those whose interpretation of the Koran not only justifies but demands the spilling of infidel blood might distract from the authorized narrative of American Muslims as victims - with non-Muslim Americans to blame. That's the elite media's story and they're sticking to it.
Clifford D. May is president of the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies, a policy institute focusing on terrorism.