Abbott Slams Door on Islamic Games: Texas Draws Line Amid Terror Fears

Paul Riverbank, 1/22/2026Texas halts Islamic Games amid terror fears, igniting tensions over faith, safety, and belonging.

Governor Greg Abbott’s office didn’t mince words. “You cannot invite such dangers through the front doors of our schools. Radical Islamic extremism is not welcome in Texas—and certainly not in our schools,” his letter to school districts read. Just like that, events that once attracted thousands—soccer, cricket matches buzzing with family cheers, even a simple 5K—were thrown into uncertainty.

Here’s what set it off. The Council on American-Islamic Relations—CAIR—was named as a “terrorist group” by Abbott last November, and the Texas Government Code promptly cut off any public cooperation. Reason given: national security. The reaction from schools was swift. For example, Grapevine-Colleyville ISD stopped short—no more negotiations about hosting the games after learning a CAIR chapter had provided something as minor as giveaway bags for athletes. Cy-Fair ISD? Well, they’ve yet to lay their cards on the table.

For their part, Islamic Games organizers were quick to say that CAIR wasn’t behind the event—no sponsorship, no planning. As for those donated bags, leaders dismissed the connection as little more than a community gesture, not a political alignment. Yet, in public debate, impressions sometimes overpower details.

Memories of the 2022 hostage standoff at the Colleyville synagogue still linger, though the attacker had no ties to U.S. Muslim organizations. But local worries don’t always wait for perfect evidence. “If the Governor of Texas has designated a group as a terrorist organization, then no public facility of any kind should be available to events sponsored by that group,” said Armin Mizani, mayor of Keller, who is running for higher office.

On the political front, the situation is even knottier since the Texas House welcomed its first two Muslim members: Salman Bhojani and Dr. Suleman Lalani. Not everyone is thrilled. Conservative pundits have accused them of pushing “foreign values” after proposals to recognize Pakistani culture and events like “Pakistan Day” at the Capitol. Commentator Sara Gonzales went as far as citing Pakistani laws, implying their presence would usher in similar norms—a stretch not supported by any actual policy moves from the lawmakers themselves, who keep talking about diversity and serving all Texans.

Much of this noise, though, is far from the minds of participating families. For young athletes, the games are about as political as a pick-up match at a neighborhood park. They’re simply after the chance to run, compete, maybe win, certainly belong.

The national branch of CAIR, trying to set the record straight, publicly condemned all acts of violence, specifically referencing the Colleyville attack. Still, in a state where politics, faith, and public safety intersect, suspicion doesn’t loosen its grip so easily.

School administrators are in a bind: Do they risk state investigation by hosting? Or do they risk alienating a vital part of their community by stepping back? Some leaders downplay controversy with reminders that there are plenty of opportunities for kids to play sports—just maybe not at this particular event. “These kids are welcomed and encouraged to play sports, as are all Texas children,” noted Rep. Jeff Leach. “There are plenty of sports organizations in DFW they easily can and should join.”

The summer calendar is still in limbo, at least for the next Islamic Games. Organizers hold out hope they can find a way forward, perhaps on new terms or at a private venue. “We look forward to delivering another successful event this summer in Texas for the benefit of all athletes, God willing,” the organizing team announced.

But it’s unclear what comes next. What’s certain is that the debate over belonging, faith, and safety isn’t about to fade away. In a place as big—and as complicated—as Texas, games may pause, but these bigger questions won’t be boxed up so neatly.

Sometimes, politics barges into places you’d never expect—like a gymnasium in Texas, packed with young athletes dribbling basketballs and sprinting for the finish line. This year, the annual Islamic Games found themselves at the bull’s-eye of a political firestorm, caught between concerns over security, the principles of religious freedom, and the ever-watchful eyes of state officials—and for a lot of folks, the lines have grown murky.Governor Greg Abbott’s office didn’t mince words. “You cannot invite such dangers through the front doors of our schools. Radical Islamic extremism is not welcome in Texas—and certainly not in our schools,” his letter to school districts read. Just like that, events that once attracted thousands—soccer, cricket matches buzzing with family cheers, even a simple 5K—were thrown into uncertainty.Here’s what set it off. The Council on American-Islamic Relations—CAIR—was named as a “terrorist group” by Abbott last November, and the Texas Government Code promptly cut off any public cooperation. Reason given: national security. The reaction from schools was swift. For example, Grapevine-Colleyville ISD stopped short—no more negotiations about hosting the games after learning a CAIR chapter had provided something as minor as giveaway bags for athletes. Cy-Fair ISD? Well, they’ve yet to lay their cards on the table.For their part, Islamic Games organizers were quick to say that CAIR wasn’t behind the event—no sponsorship, no planning. As for those donated bags, leaders dismissed the connection as little more than a community gesture, not a political alignment. Yet, in public debate, impressions sometimes overpower details.Memories of the 2022 hostage standoff at the Colleyville synagogue still linger, though the attacker had no ties to U.S. Muslim organizations. But local worries don’t always wait for perfect evidence. “If the Governor of Texas has designated a group as a terrorist organization, then no public facility of any kind should be available to events sponsored by that group,” said Armin Mizani, mayor of Keller, who is running for higher office.On the political front, the situation is even knottier since the Texas House welcomed its first two Muslim members: Salman Bhojani and Dr. Suleman Lalani. Not everyone is thrilled. Conservative pundits have accused them of pushing “foreign values” after proposals to recognize Pakistani culture and events like “Pakistan Day” at the Capitol. Commentator Sara Gonzales went as far as citing Pakistani laws, implying their presence would usher in similar norms—a stretch not supported by any actual policy moves from the lawmakers themselves, who keep talking about diversity and serving all Texans.Much of this noise, though, is far from the minds of participating families. For young athletes, the games are about as political as a pick-up match at a neighborhood park. They’re simply after the chance to run, compete, maybe win, certainly belong.The national branch of CAIR, trying to set the record straight, publicly condemned all acts of violence, specifically referencing the Colleyville attack. Still, in a state where politics, faith, and public safety intersect, suspicion doesn’t loosen its grip so easily.School administrators are in a bind: Do they risk state investigation by hosting? Or do they risk alienating a vital part of their community by stepping back? Some leaders downplay controversy with reminders that there are plenty of opportunities for kids to play sports—just maybe not at this particular event. “These kids are welcomed and encouraged to play sports, as are all Texas children,” noted Rep. Jeff Leach. “There are plenty of sports organizations in DFW they easily can and should join.”The summer calendar is still in limbo, at least for the next Islamic Games. Organizers hold out hope they can find a way forward, perhaps on new terms or at a private venue. “We look forward to delivering another successful event this summer in Texas for the benefit of all athletes, God willing,” the organizing team announced.But it’s unclear what comes next. What’s certain is that the debate over belonging, faith, and safety isn’t about to fade away. In a place as big—and as complicated—as Texas, games may pause, but these bigger questions won’t be boxed up so neatly.