They don't know each other, and have never met. Yet the words are the same and the feelings shared – despair, helplessness, bitterness, anger, sadness – whether they are 30 or 70. They are "well-established" French citizens, as they put it: bankers, public servants, engineers, teachers, and artists. They are also Muslim and Arab. "And that, in France, is a double punishment, even more so since October 7, 2023 [the date of the Hamas attack on Israel]," said Ismail, a 59-year-old painter from Paris.

All the names have been changed, as none of those Le Monde interviewed agreed to speak openly, fearing potential problems. While they believe that the authorities, many media outlets, and part of public opinion grow more hostile towards them each year, the Hamas terrorist attack in Israel marks, in their view, a new turning point in the distrust they experience.

They all condemn the "unbearable" political and media discourse toward Muslims, an "unbreathable, suffocating" atmosphere, and "harassment by public authorities." They speak of a "huge waste" and talk about "heartbreak" towards their own country, France, which has "given them so much" and "educated them," only to make them "second-class citizens." "Scapegoats constantly singled out," who are stuck under a glass ceiling in their professional lives.

"No matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, no matter how skilled we are, we are reduced to our origins and our religious identity and hindered in our careers," said Haroun, a 52-year-old banker from Bordeaux. A graduate of a prestigious business school, he believes he did not have the career he should have had.

Some voices falter when they share their attachment to a "Republic we love but that does not love us," said Youssef, a 62-year-old public servant and community activist living in Maubeuge, northern France. "Our parents told us we weren't in our own country, that we were just guests, but we didn't want to believe them. Yet, today, we must accept that we are not seen as legitimate in France," he continued.

This has led some to consider emigration. "It's not necessarily a question of going into exile in a Muslim country, but of choosing to live in a country where they will have the same opportunities as any other citizen with equal skills," observed Hanan Ben Rhouma, editor-in-chief of Saphirnews, a news site on Muslim affairs. "There have always been departures to make one's hijra – return to the land of Islam – but that's not what we are seeing now. Today, it's a silent emigration of middle and upper-level Muslim professionals, who, faced with discrimination, perpetual suspicion, and the glass ceiling, decide, painfully, to leave France," described Abdelghani Benali, imam of the mosque in Saint-Ouen, north of Paris, and researcher and professor at the Sorbonne-Nouvelle University.

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