Misconceptions--Fatima

When I was seven or eight, I came downstairs one night and saw my sister crying in my parents’ room. I was young and unobservant, so I didn’t know much about the situation at the time. I later learned that my smart, independent, strong older sister had let her guard down and trusted people to be her friends who later ridiculed and made racist jokes about her ethnicity and religion. Although it was not necessarily directed at her, they claimed that people like her are terrorists. They claimed they are uncivilized and violent. This moment destroyed her and it permanently changed how she viewed people.

            I was too naive to understand the delicacy of the situation. I was young, and at school other young kids weren’t nearly as mean as high schoolers or adults (in regards to cutting remarks and offensive language).  I’ve grown a lot since then; I keep up with the news and I read people’s comments online - although I strongly recommend against that unless you enjoy being irrationally angry. I understand how society views people like me. White people who commit mass murders are labeled mentally ill. Arab and South Asian people who do the same are labeled as radicalized terrorists. Pigs blood is smeared on the walls of a mosque, or a Sikh man is killed in cold blood by ignorant people who think all brown people are the same, but that hardly receives as much outrage as a Muslim man running for Congress. The people of Palestine are being killed and tear gassed for nonviolently protesting the apartheid and colonialization of their land, but because the people being oppressed and killed are not white Europeans and are not all Christian, that will never be covered on CNN or in the New York Times. In fact, Palestine isn’t even on most world maps at all anymore.

            Because of what they see in the news, about once every other month or so my parents ask me something along the lines of, “Has anyone said anything [racist] to you before?” I usually reply with something along the lines of, “No, not that I can think of.” For the most part, I am right. I have the privilege of looking Caucasian, so no one would even think to say anything to me unless they got to know me first. However, a few instances do sometimes come to mind. I remember a friend, whom I admired and whose company I enjoyed, maliciously calling me a terrorist and then shrugging it off as a joke. I think of the dumb kids involved in some of the extracurricular activities that I love who think it’s funny to shout a bastardization of an Arabic phrase, because it’s supposedly what “the terrorists” say before they blow something up.

            Although these instances offend me, I find the courage to stay calm. I find the courage to try and educate people. I find the courage to treat people kindly and show them that I am a Muslim and an Arab, but I am also understanding, and patient, and constantly debunking stereotypes. No matter how cheesy this may end up sounding, I think of my sister, and I find the courage to stay strong and fight for change in order to prevent the cycle from continuing.