“I am an American.”
For several days, I’ve watched individuals in commercials
look straight into the camera and proudly proclaim these words.
Although the same commercial would play several times in one
sitting, I would always look up from whatever I was working on and
watch, searching for a specific moment.
But that moment would never come ““ the moment in which a
Muslim individual would join the ensemble of diverse looking
citizens and state proudly, “I am an American.”
There has been no doubt the horrific events of Sept. 11, 2001,
have cast a weary shadow of darkness over Muslim communities all
over the nation. Suddenly, Middle-Eastern looking citizens were
analyzed, picked apart and criticized. Suddenly, Muslims were held
responsible not only for the attacks in New York and Washington
D.C., but for the horrific way of life of terrorists.
I have had people come up to me and ask what I knew of Osama bin
Laden and al-Qaeda, words just as foreign and distant to me as they
were to the next person.
Since Sept. 11, Muslims unfortunately have had to work double
time to prove their “American-ness.” If our neighbors
put up one American flag in front of their door, our house had to
have two. If a Christian or Jewish leader denounced the attacks one
day, a Muslim leader had to spend a month openly condemning the
same attacks because most of our condemnations fell on deaf
ears.
To this very day, I hear ridiculous statements like, “The
Muslims aren’t giving clear signs that their loyalties lie
with the United States.” The problem is that we talk and talk
until we are blue in the face, but fail to realize nowadays that
our words aren’t as loud as our beards, our head scarves, or
our accents.
To a certain extent, I can understand when a Muslim or Arab is
pulled aside, checked and rechecked at an airport. I can even
understand the strange looks and glares my female friends, my
mother and I get when walking into a public place with our head
scarves.
What I cannot understand, however, is the detention and arrest
of over 1,200 Muslims and Arab-Americans without viable proof of
links to terrorist groups or a fair chance at trial. I do not
understand when Islamic relief organizations are shut down without
any proof of funding terrorists.
And I cannot understand when members of the Muslim and Arab
communities are spontaneously fired from work and have a hard time
finding a stable, respectable job despite a high degree.
Thank God, as a female Muslim wearing the head scarf, or hijab
in Arabic, I have not encountered anything more than verbal
comments, rude stares, and the occasional finger. I’ve heard
horrible stories of other Muslim women who have been stalked,
beaten, and even raped for practicing their religion in a country
that prides itself on religious freedom and tolerance.
I have, however, been thrust into the spotlight and demanded to
provide answers to the often difficult questions of the public.
Suddenly, my explanation for the word jihad as
“struggle” is not good enough because it does not match
the violent descriptions given by the “experts” on
Islam which suspiciously sprung up all over the nation after Sept.
11.
Suddenly the words I have been using for years with my family
and religious leaders are dirty, wrong and hate-inspired. Suddenly,
the media and many ignorant individuals were defining to all
Muslim-Americans what it means to be Muslim.
In spite of all of the backlash, I feel as though I have become
a better Muslim. To be thrown into the spotlight meant I had to
know what I was talking about, which meant going back and reading
more of the Qur’an and approaching my local Muslim scholars
with complex questions. I had to fight harder to show others how
much I love this peaceful and affectionate religion, and how I
wouldn’t change who I am for the world.
Although I must struggle to define and capture my own identity
as a Muslim and as an American, I would, in a heartbeat, strongly
state, “I am an American.”