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Salam everyone, My name is Atif Osmani, and I've now had the honor of serving on the board of Muslims for Progressive Values for almost four years. Some of you may have read a note I wrote a couple of years ago about what MPV means to me — about growing up in a traditional Muslim community that I love and treasure, and about the real pain of struggling to find spaces that honored all of who I am. That note was raw, and everything I said in it remains true. But what I want to share now is something different: what it's been like to watch this organization grow from the inside. When I first joined the board, I believed in MPV's mission. Now, almost four years later, I've seen that mission in action in ways that have genuinely moved me. I've watched our president Ani Zonneveld publish her memoir, An Unlikely Social Justice Warrior, and take it on a book tour to places like Jewish Theological Seminary and Union Theological Seminary — spaces where interfaith dialogue isn't just a talking point but a practice. I've seen us launch our first-ever Community Arts Grant and fund Witness, a short film about an imam confronting a crisis of faith over the belonging of a congregant — a film that went on to screen at Slamdance and qualify for an Oscar. I've seen our Inclusive Islam Curriculum for children become available for families who want to raise kids with a Muslim identity rooted in compassion and human rights. And I've watched fellow board member Kendra Cordova build out a Progressive Islam Curriculum workshop series that is doing the patient, foundational educational work that real change requires. These aren't small things. In a time when it can feel like the forces of exclusion and dehumanization are louder than ever, MPV keeps showing up — at the United Nations, in local communities, in living rooms during Ramadan, and in the art and stories we help bring into the world. I'll be honest: when I wrote that first note, I said that as much as certain people want to push a narrative that queerness is un-Islamic or that queer Muslims don't exist, here I am. I still stand by that. But what MPV has shown me over these four years is that standing firm in who you are is only part of it. The other part is building something — a community, a body of work, a set of resources — so that the next person who needs to find a home doesn't have to search as hard as some of us did. That's the work your donations support. Not just advocacy in the abstract, but real infrastructure for a more compassionate ummah. Today, as we celebrate Eid and reflect on a month of spiritual renewal, I hope you'll carry that spirit of generosity forward. If you'd like to continue supporting MPV on this day of celebration, any contribution — no matter the size — makes a difference in sustaining this work for the year ahead.
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