Fri May 18, 2012
Abeer Abdalla
I’m an American, Too
By Abeer Abdalla, Washington, DC September 2008
I have been called both hero and enemy because of my DNA; too Arab for the Americans, too American for the Arabs. If my mother’s Irish heritage stood alone in my veins, few would blink at my profession or my Republican activism.
But as someone of blended heritage – half Egyptian and half Irish-American, my allegiances seem to have always been in question – only leading to my own confusion about where I could belong.
The post 9-11 mayhem only added stronger, more disconcerting monikers. I reminded myself of what I had learned very quickly in my youth: sadly we compartmentalize people with titles and isms that contribute to racism, xenophobia and ignorance.
Does each minority group in history get their turn to be the poster child of injustice? Would the Hussein, in Barack Hussein Obama be an issue if our world hadn’t changed 7 years ago?
In Justin Jovenal’s interview with Moustafa Bayoumi about his new book “How Does It Feel to Be a Problem?” for Salon.com, Bayoumi responds to the phenomenon of young Arabs and Muslims being referred to as the “problem” and “the new blacks.”
“Everybody has an opinion about what it means to be an Arab or a Muslim. Young Arabs and Muslims are the ones most feared by the culture at large, so it was very important for me to excavate the stories I found to illustrate the realities and tempos of real life during the age of terror.”
The book outlines the horror stories of young Arab and Muslim American youth and their families as they struggle with issues of immigration, discrimination, and ignorance. What Bayoumi affirms in the interview is that his book is not “maudlin” and the characters profiled hold no “self-pity”- a rare exchange in this post 9-11 commentary.
Working recently as a volunteer for a large, reputable and well-established cultural institution that trumpets its diverse perspectives, I was approached by a patron interested in my name badge.
“Well isn’t that a fun name,” the well-dressed stranger mentioned.
“Thank you,” I kept it short, having had this discourse before.
“It’s Islamic right?” she continued.
“Yes ma’am.” I smiled.
“I know you probably don’t understand this, but it’s your turn,” she walked closer to inevitably engage me.
“Pardon me,” familiar with the exchange, I remained composed.
“Well first it was the Blacks and the Spanish and the Chinese, and well we still don’t really care for the gays,” she added flatly, “so it’s ok, you’ll get through it, the civil rights movement fixed them, so you’ll be fine, but if it bothers you – you should really change your name, especially if you’re gonna be out and about like this, it’s just not appropriate. People might think you’re up to something.”
I smiled. “Enjoy your visit today,” I said, and I meant it.
Walking home from the subway after the event with my head-scarfed mother in tow, I watched onlookers pretend not to gawk at her choice of the traditional Islamic accessory.
Rolling over my cultural observer’s thoughts in my head I wondered if a dart pointed in my direction had been thrown in an invisible historic game.
Why the constant finger-pointing exercise of whom we deem worthy of racism? Independent of our voting preferences, shouldn’t we ALL be engaged in applauding the fact that Barack Obama is the first minority Presidential candidate offering up opportunities for people of all races, creeds and religious backgrounds?
The rhetoric and talking heads of the Washington Beltway, find solace with the Bread and Bible Belts of talk radio, on the historic pulse of voting for America’s “First Black President.” Yet an official survey of my peers all returned the same result: he’s not black — he’s blended. The Millennial Generation – one of the most important voting blocks in the 2008 Presidential Election represents the gray that I, and so many peers claim as our identity.
Millennials see no subterfuge in heralding multiple facets of one’s heritage, because they too are either blended themselves, or surrounded by the effects. As we blog, tweet, instant message, upload, download, text message, write on digital walls, we are constantly “friending” a variety of people in our global society.
Nonetheless, I’m still intrigued by the occasional raised eyebrows my 9-5 work elicits from those who inquire. Seven years after 9-11, I sit in my Washington D.C. apartment, blocks from the Capital, White House, and the State Department and marvel at how much my life has been dedicated to dispelling myths and stereotypes.
Perhaps that is why counterterrorism research has become much more than a passion for me. The topic of my master’s research, it is my mission to work for my country’s war against extremist ideologies. My country, I might add, still has to be clarified as the United States of America.
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