When a mosque burns down, when a 16-year-old American is imprisoned overseas, when a Muslim family is killed by a drunk driver and the father is in Dubai — who shows up? In Florida, more often than not, it’s CAIR Florida.
On a recent episode of the #MuslimPhilanthropy Podcast, AMCF co-founder Muhi Khwaja sat down with the CAIR Florida team: Hiba Rahim, Executive Director; Megan Amer, Policy Director; and Wilfredo Ruiz, Communications Director. What unfolded was a wide-ranging conversation about what it actually takes to defend a community — legally, politically, and on the ground — in one of the most challenging civil rights environments in the country.
Three People, Three Paths to the Same Work
The most striking thing about this conversation is how differently each of these three leaders arrived at CAIR Florida — and how clearly their paths reflect the breadth of what the organization does.
Wilfredo Ruiz was born in Puerto Rico, raised in the Catholic church, served as a Navy defense attorney representing Marines and sailors in court martials, and embraced Islam in 2003 after pulling over outside a mosque in San Juan and walking in. He pursued a master’s degree in Christian-Muslim relations at Hartford Seminary, served as one of only four Muslim chaplains in the entire U.S. Navy fleet, and worked in immigration detention center chaplaincy before landing at CAIR Florida — where he has now served for 15 years.
Hiba Rahim grew up partly in Panama City, Florida — deep in the Panhandle, what she calls “LA: Lower Alabama” — in one of the first Islamic schools in the United States, where civic responsibility was embedded into the curriculum alongside Quran and Islamic principles. She was on track for a PhD in psychology when 9/11 happened, and she found herself doing community outreach and interfaith presentations with police departments, the FBI, and church groups instead. She never looked back. She has been with CAIR, non-consecutively, since 2015.
Megan Amer is Catholic. Her husband is Muslim. Her kids go to an Islamic school. She has a master’s from George Washington University, worked at the Department of State on nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons, and then moved to police reform through the International Narcotics and Law Enforcement bureau. She moved to Florida five years ago, and after October 7th and the security lockdowns at her children’s school, she realized she needed to do something. She started organizing. She joined CAIR Florida officially, and hasn’t stopped.
“We were lucky to have Hiba and Megan on our team,” Wilfredo said.
What CAIR Florida Actually Does — and Why It’s Different
CAIR Florida was founded at the end of September 2001, weeks after 9/11, by a group of Florida Muslims who saw what was coming and organized before it arrived. In nearly 25 years of operation, the chapter has built a three-part structure that Hiba describes as genuinely unique in the state.
The Programs Department works within the systems of society — hospitals, media, police departments, schools — educating the public on Islam and Muslims to foster mutual respect and understanding, while also educating and empowering Muslim community members directly.
The Policy Department, led by Megan, does the proactive advocacy work — promoting legislation favorable to Muslim and minority communities, opposing harmful bills and resolutions, getting out the vote, and building the political infrastructure that prevents crises before they require emergency response.
The Legal Department handles civil rights defense in the trenches — representing Muslim victims of discrimination from advocacy all the way to the courtroom, often in cases that no other organization in the state is equipped to handle.
“There is no other organization that does for the community and within the community what CAIR Florida does,” Hiba said. “There are so many amazing organizations that do relief work — feed the hungry, take care of orphans, shelter women. All of that is incredibly valuable. But there is a very different type of work where you plan for the protection of a community — whether they’re Muslim or not.”
The Fort Pierce Mosque Arson: Where CAIR Florida Was Tested
Wilfredo walked through one of the most pivotal moments in CAIR Florida’s history: the arson attack on a mosque in Fort Pierce in 2007. It was a small community — Friday prayers drew forty or fifty people. The imam was on Hajj. His sons were the ones at the mosque when it happened.
Within hours, more than a dozen news trucks were parked outside with satellite antennas transmitting nationally and internationally. The FBI descended — not just to investigate the arson, but, as Wilfredo put it, to “expand their investigations beyond what happened that day.” The community, as victims, found itself needing legal representation not against the arsonist but against government overreach.
CAIR Florida was there: handling media, protecting community members from overreaching FBI interviews, providing legal counsel. The perpetrator was eventually arrested, prosecuted, and imprisoned. And the Fort Pierce community, as Wilfredo described it with visible emotion, rose from the ashes — literally purchasing a former church and school and building a new, larger Islamic center on several acres of land. “I like the Phoenix story,” he said. “Right out of ashes.”
Mohamed Ibrahim: An International Victory
One of CAIR Florida’s most recent and significant victories was the release of Mohamed Ibrahim — a 16-year-old from Tampa who was imprisoned in an Israeli military prison for over nine months, losing a quarter of his body weight, denied access to his parents, and held in conditions where he contracted scabies.
His cousin, Saiful Moussa, a 20-year-old Tampa small business owner who had traveled to the West Bank, had been killed by settlers months earlier.
CAIR Florida built what Hiba described as a national coalition — major civil rights organizations signing on to a coordinated letter, sustained media pressure through outlets including The Guardian, relentless advocacy at the Florida and national levels, and an international pressure campaign that included calls to the U.S. Embassy in Israel. Ambassador Mike Huckabee, Megan noted, eventually said he was “getting so annoyed with all these phone calls.”
Mohamed Ibrahim was released on Thanksgiving Day. He’s back in Tampa, working at his ice cream shop on Bruce B. Downs.
“We mobilized a massive effort,” Hiba said, “and we recognized when something was way bigger than us.”
The fight continues for justice in his cousin’s killing.
Training 5,000 Officers and Turning Bullying Into Education
The day-to-day work of CAIR Florida is less dramatic but no less important. Across its various offices, CAIR Florida has trained over 5,000 law enforcement officers across the state on Islam, Muslim community needs, and cultural sensitivity. When a Leon County school principal said something inappropriate to a Muslim student, CAIR Florida didn’t just write a letter — they drove to Tallahassee, insisted on a face-to-face meeting with the superintendent, and ultimately secured a commitment to train all assistant principals in the county on Muslim students’ rights and cultural sensitivity.
“We take these unfortunate incidents and convert them into opportunities to train and educate,” Hiba said.
And when a sheriff asked what CAIR was doing to combat extremism in the Muslim community, Hiba had a ready answer: “Sir, what are you doing to combat white nationalist extremists? Because the KKK was firing on people’s yards just two weeks ago.”
On Being the Tree That Gets Rocks Thrown at It
The conversation turned, inevitably, to the attacks CAIR Florida has faced — from a well-funded Islamophobia network, from Governor Ron DeSantis’s administration, from county commissions that have funneled hundreds of millions of Florida taxpayer dollars into Israeli bonds while Floridians struggle with healthcare, housing, and education.
CAIR Florida took the DeSantis administration to court. The judge ruled in their favor.
Wilfredo shared something an imam told him during Ramadan, at a moment when the attacks felt overwhelming: “In a field of trees, only the tree that bears fruit gets rocks thrown at it.”
“That’s why CAIR is being attacked,” he said. “It’s because of the work we’re doing — the civil rights defense, the advocacy, the promotion of community cohesiveness. That is the antithesis of the Islamophobic agenda.”
The Vision: Every Muslim, an Ambassador
The conversation closed with a vision that all three panelists returned to in different ways: the Muslim community in Florida — over half a million strong — becoming a force not through institutional growth alone, but through individual presence.
“In your workplace, you are an ambassador of Islam,” Wilfredo said. “Our kids are ambassadors in their classrooms. We embody the tenets of Islam and the beauty of Islam, and the peace that Islam assures to everyone around us.”
He told the story of a cancer patient in Panama City — not Muslim — who stood in front of cameras after a mosque was burned and said unprompted: “The imam of that mosque never charged me for services. These people are good.” Nobody trained her to say that. She said it because it was true.
That, he said, is where the community’s real growth lies. Not in waiting for organizations to grow large enough to protect everyone, but in every Muslim being the reason a neighbor spontaneously speaks up.
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