The Salafi movement invests supreme Islamic authority in the precedents of the Salaf, the first three generations of Muslims, who represent a “Golden Age” from which all subsequent eras can only decline. In Why I Am a Salafi, Michael Muhammad Knight confronts the problem of origins, questioning the possibility of accessing pure Islam through its canonical texts. Why I Am a Salafi is also a confrontation of Knight’s own origins as a Muslim. Reconsidering Salafism, Knight explores the historical processes that informed Islam as he once knew it, having converted to a Salafi vision of Islam in 1994. In the decades since, he has drifted away from Salafism in favor of an alternative Islam that celebrates the freaks, misfits, and heretical innovators. What happens to Islam when everything’s up for grabs, and can an anything-goes Islam allow space for reputedly intolerant Salafism? In Why I Am a Salafi, Knight explores not only Salafism’s valorization of the origins, but takes the Salafi project further than its advocates are willing to go, and reflects upon the consequences of surrendering the origins forever.

Salafism has received scrutiny as the one of the main ideological sources for extremist violence perpetrated by jihadi groups. There is a significant corpus of literature discussing transnational jihadi networks, especially after the 9/11 attacks in the United States. These discussions include the radicalization of Salafi thought by jihadi theoreticians and 'ulama. However, Salafism is not monolithic. It contains numerous streams, and an examination of these streams is crucial to understanding its influence on Muslim societies. Besides Salafi jihadisthose who sanction violencethere are two other broad trends in Salafism: quietist and activist. Quietist Salafis endorse an apolitical tradition and find political activism in any form unacceptable. Activist Salafis advocate peaceful political change. Each stream is led by 'ulama, seen as the preservers of Salafi traditions. The quietist and activist 'ulama are active participants in their communities. Studies of such clerics have tended to be country-specific, focusing on the influence and nature of Salafism and its dynamics in those countries. In Rethinking Salafism Raihan Ismail assesses the origins, interactions, and dynamics of the transnational networks of Salafi 'ulama in the region comprising Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Kuwait, showing how quietist and activist 'ulama work across borders to preserve and promote what they see as "authentic" Salafism while taking domestic circumstances of the 'ulama into consideration. The book offers a reassessment of the quietist/activist dichotomy, arguing that this dichotomy does not apply to such aspects of Salafi thought as attitudes towards the Shi'a and social matters in Muslim societies.

Salafism, often called "Wahhabism," is widely seen as a fundamentalist interpretation of Islam that subjugates women, yet growing numbers of young British women, many of them converts or from less conservative Muslim backgrounds, are actively embracing it. With unprecedented access to Salafi women's groups in the UK, Anabel Inge provides the first in-depth account of their lives, probing the reasons for their conversion and their subsequent dilemmas and difficulties.

The Salafi movement invests supreme Islamic authority in the precedents of the Salaf, the first three generations of Muslims, who represent a “Golden Age” from which all subsequent eras can only decline. In Why I Am a Salafi, Michael Muhammad Knight confronts the problem of origins, questioning the possibility of accessing pure Islam through its canonical texts. Why I Am a Salafi is also a confrontation of Knight’s own origins as a Muslim. Reconsidering Salafism, Knight explores the historical processes that informed Islam as he once knew it, having converted to a Salafi vision of Islam in 1994. In the decades since, he has drifted away from Salafism in favor of an alternative Islam that celebrates the freaks, misfits, and heretical innovators. What happens to Islam when everything’s up for grabs, and can an anything-goes Islam allow space for reputedly intolerant Salafism? In Why I Am a Salafi, Knight explores not only Salafism’s valorization of the origins, but takes the Salafi project further than its advocates are willing to go, and reflects upon the consequences of surrendering the origins forever.

Concise introduction to salafi-jihadism from its origins in the Hindu Kush to insurgencies in the 1990s and beyond

If Tripping with Allah is a road book, it’s a road book in the tradition of 2001: A Space Odyssey, rather than On the Road. Amazonian shamanism meets Christianity meets West African religion meets Islam in this work of reflection and inward adventure. Knight, the “Hunter S. Thompson of Islamic literature” seeks reconciliation between his Muslim identity and his drinking of ayahuasca, a psychedelic tea that has been used in the Amazon for centuries. His experience becomes an opportunity to investigate complex issues of drugs, religion, and modernity. Though essential for readers interested in Islam or the growing popularity of ayahuasca, this book is truly about neither Islam nor ayahuasca. Tripping with Allah provides an accessible look into the construction of religion, the often artificial borders dividing these constructions, and the ways in which religion might change in an increasingly globalized world. Finally, Tripping with Allah not only explores Islam and drugs, but also Knight’s own process of creativity and discovery.

A Muslim punk house in Buffalo, New York, inhabited by burqa-wearing riot girls, mohawked Sufis, straightedge Sunnis, Shi’a skinheads, Indonesian skaters, Sudanese rude boys, gay Muslims, drunk Muslims, and feminists. Their living room hosts parties and prayers, with a hole smashed in the wall to indicate the direction of Mecca. Their life together mixes sex, dope, and religion in roughly equal amounts, expressed in devotion to an Islamo-punk subculture, “taqwacore,” named for taqwa, an Arabic term for consciousness of the divine. Originally self-published on photocopiers and spiralbound by hand, The Taqwacores has now come to be read as a manifesto for Muslim punk rockers and a “Catcher in the Rye for young Muslims.” There are three different cover colors; red, white, and blue.