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Fighting Racial Stereotypes
It was a typical day-or so I thought. Everyone was reading a book in my English class, when my teacher's phone began to ring. After a couple of minutes on the phone, she began to cry. The class all stared at her. "Everyone, please work on this worksheet. I'll be right back," she whispered as she quickly handed out the worksheet and left the room. What was going on? I was so confused. My classmates all started to ask each other what was going on. I looked at the worksheet and wrote my name at the top. "What's the date?" I asked my friend. "Look at the board," she said. September 11, 2001. Little did I know that this day marked the beginning of a new life filled with discrimination, stereotypes, and struggles to fit in with the rest of the American people.
My mom picked me up from school early. When she picked me up, it looked like she had been crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she insisted nothing was wrong. I decided to just let it go. That night, my mom and I went to Wal-Mart. I love Wal-Mart. I love all the different people I encounter there and, of course, all the free food samples. We walked in, but at once, everyone began to stare at my mom and me. Usually, a few people stare at us since we wear the headscarf, but never this many. I ignored everyone. My mom asked if I could go get some apples. Shortly after that, a woman approached my mom. She began to shout at her. "You damn terrorists! Ya'll think you can bomb our Twin Towers like that and get away with it!? Get the hell out of here and go back to your own damn country!" My mom began to cry with her lips trembling the words "I'm not a terrorist." I turned around. I felt my stomach drop. The apples I just got fell on the floor My hands began to shake. My heart pounded. I felt tears in my eyes. Then, I began to feel rage and anger. Who was this woman to say this to my mom? I quickly ran to my mom and did something I regret to this day. As I was crying, I angrily shouted, "Stop! Why don't you get the hell out of here, you big meanie!" Of course, I was in 2nd grade. I didn't know what I was saying or doing. I let my emotions take control. "Hey, what's going on here!" the store manager interrupted. The lady stared at me. She softly whispered "whatever" and quickly walked away. The store manager apologized to my mom and me and offered us a discount. It didn't matter. He could give us all the coupons, discounts, and free things in the world. This racist woman had already emotionally scarred my mom and me.
Later that day, after she scolded me for my bad language, my mom explained to me what had happened. She told me about the bombing of the Twin Towers. She told me about al-Qaida, which is the terrorist organization that was responsible for this. "Wait, I don't understand." I said. "What does this have anything to do with you and me?" She went on to explain that al-Qaida is made up of extreme Muslims. At that point, I was very confused. How could someone that practiced the same religion as me feel it was his duty to god to perform such a horrific act? That is when my mom made it very clear that these Muslims were wrong. She drew a distinct line between those types of Muslims and our type of Muslims. She explained that Islam is a very peaceful religion, and al-Qaida misinterprets the Quran, which clearly states that no one should ever kill innocent people.
One thing people fail to realize is that 9/11 is a tragic day for Muslims as well. On this day, I shed a tear for all the innocent lives lost, for all the families that have lost a loved one, and most importantly, for all the Muslims, who feel they have to struggle to be accepted into part of the fabric that makes up American society.
After this tragic day, many of my mom's friends decided to take off their scarf. They wanted to hide that they were Muslims to avoid the racism and criticism they would have been subjected to. My mom and I are one of the few Muslims that actually stuck to the religion. We continued to wear the scarf and still proudly represent Islam today.
To this day, people discriminate against me. People stare at me and might even shout "terrorist" as I walk by. These people have guns, and they constantly shoot bullets at me. However, I don't make the same mistake I had made ten years ago: respond with rage and anger. Ten years ago, I would have taken out a gun of my own and shot back at them. Instead, I dodge the bullets that people shoot at me. I don't let these bullets touch me-affect me. I learned that if you fight fire with fire, you just get a bigger fire. So, I simply walk away from the situation, feeling sorrow. I feel sorry that these people don't take the time to get to know a person before making hasty judgments. I feel sorry that people lump Islam and terrorism together. I feel sorry that the actions of one wrong Muslim are starting to affect all of the followers of Islam in America.
Today, I don't let stereotypes bring me down. Although I have adjusted to live with people that constantly reiterate these stereotypes, I shouldn't have to live with them in the first place. This is a very important issue that needs to be addressed. At my current school, I have helped MSA (Muslim Student Association) emerge throughout the school. In this club, we tackle these stereotypes in an effort to prove them wrong. I have taken a step to make these stereotypes disappear at a local level and hope to spread true awareness about Islam around the world.
