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Before 9/11….Unique, After 9/11….ARAB!

Miriam Piper
Colorado Springs, CO

Before 9/11 I was just this unique mix of who knows what. I am really Palestinian and White, but no one ever knew what I was (Indian, Puerto Rican, Greek). But as soon as 9/11 happened, and living in a large military community who were then trained on facial features, I am now clearly recognized as an ARAB. They even try to narrow down the region I’m from like it’s a guessing game. I went from being unrecognizable to racially profiled everywhere… airports, military bases, government buildings etc. I lot of racial questionnaires (bubble questions) ask if you are mixed, which race do you identify with more? I always had trouble answering that question until I realized if you are being treated different in public, you tend to identify with the race you are being singled out for.

Stop Asking if I am oppressed!

Reem,
Grand Prairie, TX

This six word race-card projects reflects on the common misconception or stereotypes that Arab women who wear the hijab face. Often times people of another race assume Arab women that wear the hijab are oppressed, when in reality it is a choice to follow our faith, identity, and individuality.

I feel invisible, while standing out.

ilovesalmanAman Agah,
Brooklyn, NY.

I am Iranian, Irish, Azari, and German. Being Iranian means being called Arab. I am not Arab. Being Iranian means being part of a group of people that so many don’t know – even if I say “Persian” – and yet I am part of a group labeled terrorist. I am the enemy that no one knows anything about. And my Irish identity has so often been denied to even exist – because how could I be any part “white!” – that I hold strongly to that part of me too. I am proud of my heritages and anyone who is not mixed will never understand the isolation that comes with it. We mixed folks are our own little community of outcasts. Something else to find pride in!

Light skinned, biracial, Jewish, Arab American man.

Arturo Hull,
Anchorage, AK.

My mom is Syrian, Iraqi, Egyptian, Greek, Italian, Swiss-German, Austrian, South German, English, Norwegian and Danish. My dad is English, Scottish, Irish, Swedish, German, Polish, and Russian. I am light-skinned and can easily pass as French or Italian, but I embrace my Arab roots to the fullest and enjoy foods like Falafel, ful medames, and baklava. I also celebrate Arab holidays, such as Syrian Independence Day and Syrian Revolution Day. When I go to synagogue for Shabbat, I try to attend a Sephardic Synagogue and I eat qitnyot on Shabbat.

I’m an Arab named Dave Hall

Arab nameDave Hall,
Brooklyn, NY.

I get my name from my Yankee (English-American) father, whose ancestors arrived in Boston in 1630 but I get my complexion from my Arab-American mother. People do a double take when they first meet me after only hearing my voice on the phone. And new friends quickly learn that I am passionately insistent about discussing Arabs in truth, not in myth and stereotype.

By protecting her, I’m oppressing her.

aaliyah_rcpAdrienne Kern,
Keller, TX.

My daughter was two weeks from turning one on September 11, 2001. She is one of them. An Arab (pronounced with a Texas drawl: A-Rab). A camel jockey. A rag head. She is Turkish and Saudi and Egyptian. She is not white like me, her mother, who is also mixed race. Far from Aryan.

When those people killed our people, I automatically went into that maternal protection mode where assumptions are borne. I assumed people would be cruel, and so said cruelty was magnified. I heard an elderly man say, “nuke ‘em all.” But I did not hear his wife say, “But most are innocent.” I heard a co-worker call my daughter Osama’s niece. But I did not hear my boss call her beautiful.
A few weeks ago two boys killed and maimed our people again. I wrote on my social networking site that extremists taint all religions. Islam was not the problem, you see, because mental illness and hatred cannot be classified unto a specific belief system. Or race. My daughter is not Muslim, but still it was my duty to defend her.

This Sunday, as my husband baptized our daughter, this beautiful brown-eyed child of God, Allah, Yahweh, I suddenly had an epiphany. She does not need me to protect her. By protecting her, I am only amplifying the prejudice that I fear. I realized that, by defending my daughter’s Arab bloodline, I am the only one oppressing her.

White but not proud of privilege

Harley Guyton,
Waleska, GA

Being a white passing Arab has its benefits. To others, I am seen as privileged. That is something I am not proud of though. Not only is there a disconnection with my culture due to the color of my skin, but there’s also a disconnection to society. White privilege is something a lot of people try to deny. Are they scared? Do they want to be oppressed? Is it guilt? As much as we want to view everyone as equal, there are many people, specifically of power, that don’t treat everyone as if they are equal. This can be seen in policing, media, and even in pay. White privilege is a thing, and although we can’t get rid of it, we can use it to help out those who can’t speak out for their selves.

Wearing your difference on the outside.

mona-lrMona Khadr,
Washington, DC.

“But where are you from, originally?” is a question I get a lot. When I was younger, I answered proudly (“Egyptian!”) because my heritage was something that made me unique from my mostly white-American peers in the suburbs of MD and PA. As I got older and entered high school, college, and the work force, things changed both in myself and in society. I was becoming more sensitive about this question and aware that some people had preconceived notions about Arabs because of what they saw either in 80s and 90s movies and TV shows, where Arabs were often portrayed as terrorists, or because of very unfortunate events in the news. And there didn’t seem to be any portrayals in the media or popular culture of “normal” Arabs to even things out. I started wondering about the best way to answer while retaining my right to privacy. I received advice from colleagues who were also either immigrants themselves or from immigrant families. Some advised me it was nobody’s business where you’re from and to keep it to yourself. These people basically promoted the idea of playing a game of chicken until the question-asker gets the hint and stops asking. But that can lead to awkwardness in a conversation if a person doesn’t “get the hint” to stop their line of questioning (as if you didn’t understand the question the first or second time), and I’m not a confrontational person by nature – so this would be uncomfortable for me. And I truly don’t believe that everyone who asks this question has bad intentions – most are just innocent and curious. I tend to evaluate on a case-by-case basis depending on the tone of the conversation, where it’s taking place, and the vibe I’m getting from the person asking questions. Sometimes it feels completely innocent, like someone in a store or a restaurant asking me where I’m from because they think I look like I was from their home country. And sometimes it feels completely inappropriate, like a colleague in the workplace asking the same question. (You’d think everyone would know that this question is illegal to ask in any workplace in the U.S., but they don’t!) Luckily I’ve never encountered a hostile person asking this question, and I’m not entirely sure what I would do in that situation. I still have no perfect way to handle this question, so I just try to take it one instance at a time. Wearing your difference or your uniqueness on the outside is a fact of life for many people (tall people; short people; people with physical disabilities; women in a male-dominated workplace/field; any minority in a majority-dominated situation), so I try my best to keep that in mind and take it in stride.

The invisible Arab until 9/12.

Jennie Clement
Riverview, FL

Thank you for doing this project. I noticed how my university applications changed in the wake of 9/11; how there was all of a sudden a magical radio button for being Arab. I had previously been invisible; moderately enjoying white privilege until 9/11. I was no longer “white”; which was a slight sigh of relief because I was so proud of my heritage. Now I feel it is important to relish in no longer being invisible, so that I can counteract the waves of hatred aimed at Arabs in the wake of 9/11. No longer invisible and trying, sometimes stumbling, to stand proud. No longer being invisible does come with additional scrutiny, occasional bias, and interpersonal/professional challenges.

“You don’t look Jamaican or Cuban”

Michael A. Caldas,
Miami, FL

I’m a Cuban and Jamaican descent mix. Most people when they look at me think that I am either Cape Verdean, Polynesian, or Middle Eastern. When I was at Tuskegee, on the road there, we stopped at gas station to make a rest-stop and when one of the older white women working the cashier, denied me service because they assumed I was Arab (Islamic) and thought I was a “terrorist”. I simply walked away because I was scared they gang up on me or get me killed by the police.

Sir, it’s just a random search.

Naim A.,
San Francisco, CA.

These are the words I hear every time I go to the airport. Being Arab-American, I always face discrimination whether it’s from peers or random people on the street or social media but never let it get to me. The airport is the one place that always seems to get to me because I always get singled out for a “necessary random search” that takes a lot of time. It’s become such hassle that when we fly somewhere, we show up to the airport at least 4 hours early to be on the safe side and not get held back.

I am a man without a tribe

Varun Vajpeyi
Iowa City, IA

I’m part white part south Asian Indian. I have been confused with other ethnic groups, most of the time its by a white people and most of the time people of other groups will say no you are not Indian, Arab, Hispanic etc. I feel i really don’t belong to any particular group, and I don’t see my identity as being part of one race or the other.

Do you wear Burka in Iran?

Ziba
USA

When people find out I am from Iran, they ask me questions such as do you wear Burka in Iran? Or did you have an arranged marriage? When I explain to them that 60% of university students are women and we do not wear Burka, they give me a puzzled look. Many times I have to explain to them that Iran is not the same country as Iraq, Iranians are not Arabs and They are not responsible for September 11.

I often call myself Persian to avoid conflict or difficult questions.

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