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Today I was called a “racist”.
I wasn’t upset at all. I replied, “Yes, I AM a racist!”
If, by daring to point out the blinding whiteness in our existing administration makes me a racist, so be it. I am a racist.
My issue is not with the whiteness. I come from a long line of whiteness. My issue is that we will die if we only eat Wonder Bread. I am unsettled, to say the least, that a sliver in the pie of our country’s rich diversity is now running our country.
This week was challenging for me. Every time I witnessed Trump boldly deny rights to millions be it healthcare, freedom of choice, safety from war-torn lands, religious freedom, I wanted to vomit. I thought, “Who is this clown?”
There are so many issues I want to protest that my head has been spinning all week. But, on Friday, when Trump signed the Executive Order denying entry to refugees and immigrants, and then, on Saturday, when people with legal papers were detained at JFK, I cried.
For a moment, I even lost that fight in my own soul.
I get it. My beliefs aren't your beliefs. I spend my life trying to uphold and honor other people's beliefs. I don't have to push my personal agenda.
But this gap between Americans is a rough one, and I'm thinking the only way we'll come together is if North Korea points its nuclear missile right into our cow and corn middle. Then maybe we'll start to see how bringing together our great and diverse nation is a necessity.
I probably have my parents to thank or blame for my passion for diversity -- be it cultural, religious or ideological. My mom had amazing intellectual curiosity, traveling everywhere as a teacher with her high school students through American Field Service. She also welcomed anyone and everyone into our home while I was growing up. Mrs Appletree and her daughter from Germany came and lived with us for a period of time, fleeing abuse by her husband and afraid to go home. Tony, Nereida, Heida. Names of people I had to share my bathroom with at different times in my childhood because my mom and dad opened up our home always .
But one of my most significant memories was in 1975, after the fall of Saigon. My parents sponsored a family from Vietnam. The Trans. They brought with them their many children and I spent every weekend with my parents sprucing up their apartment. We painted, collected furniture and clothing, shopped at the grocery store. I played with Tien, who was about my age. She didn’t speak English, but why did that matter? We would smile at each other, and play catch outside with a ball.
I think my mom still has the two stuffed turtles they brought from Vietnam as a thank you. My parents helped change their lives. The turtles symbolized the greatest gratitude they could show, apparently.
Fast forward, the Trans are making America great, weaving another thread of cultural diversity and immigrant success into our national tapestry.
They came here on a boat, escaping a war-torn country.
Today, they prosper.
This is the American ideal. This is the American dream.
I know why many Americans want to turn away Muslims. I get it. They’re scared. People are scared that foreigners are taking their jobs or, worse, going to plot to kill us. We read articles of Syrian men raping women in Paris. Or laws changing due to the influx of Muslim citizens. I get it. It’s fear. It’s real. I feel it, too, sometimes. So I’m not going to pretend I don’t get scared about the world contracting into a giant mess of angry, starving, radical peoples.
But I refuse to let fear run my life.
And I ask all the Americans who keep the fear of Muslims alive. Do you even know a Muslim personally? Have you heard a story of a Muslim immigrant? I am flagrantly saying “Muslim” and not “refugees from predominantly Muslim countries” because we all know it is Islam that we fear. We see burkas and terrorists and quotes from the Koran that scare the sht out of us. We hear stories of women being beaten as part of Sharia Law. We want to protect ourselves from another 9/11. I get it. I feel it. I sympathize.
But honestly – most Muslims do not embody these values. I challenge anyone who is afraid of Muslims to go talk to one. Stretch a little. It’s not going to be easy at first. But I guarantee the commonalities will rise up. When you whittle it down, shedding the pretense and ideology, you realize we all want the same things in life and that it’s OK that we don’t all believe the same things. Not sharing the same beliefs doesn’t mean the "other" is the devil or dangerous. It just means we all have some learning to do. And many Muslims have to also learn that America isn’t the Great Satan based on what they see on TV. Just because our president sits on a golden chair talking about stealing the only resource, oil, from Iraq, doesn’t mean that we are the Great Satan. It doesn’t!
Please do not judge me, a human being, based on how the media portrays my president.
Because prejudice and fear go both ways.
You are not the only one afraid.
Trust me. I took a class on Women in Islam back in 2005 and I struggled. I was like "What the Actual Fck" at first. But then I stretched. I asked my friend, Sumera, to wrap me in a hijab and we went to the mall. I disagreed with much of what Sumera believed, but I listened.
I went to the mall looking all Muslim, and watched people treat me like the plague, especially as we marched through the lingerie section at Macy’s. I felt what she feels every day. Most importantly, I listened, and I let the experience sink deep within my heart because that’s where change happens. Find the commonality. No one wants to watch their child die from war or starvation or stranded on a beach because they were turned away from the comforts America has to offer.
This life on earth isn’t always easy, but guess what?
We can try to isolate ourselves over here in America, but we’re all spinning on the same beautiful planet. Eventually, we are going to have to learn to live together and stop waging war on one another. It’s inevitable.
The “other” is our “brother”.
So, why not strive to be the America that sets the stage for how we can live together – peacefully and with prosperity? Why not stretch with me as we learn something new about the people we hate and fear?
My America goes beyond the comforts of limited beliefs and broadens world-views. We are, after all, a collection of world-views, not just one white bread one. Our American freedom empowers us to live peacefully in a pluralistic society, not pompously under the regime of a single belief system.
So call me a racist. I don't care. I know I am.
Just remember, we can’t make America great again by turning away the tired, the poor and the huddled masses.
They ARE America!
