I am Muslim. Yes I am. Yeah I write different kinds of stories. That’s me as a person as much as Islam is. I do not know why people stereotype me with terrorists like Isis or whatever. But the international community makes me really sad at times when they outwardly dis my religion and say a few stray thoughts about something they heard about pillars or 70 virgins. Guess what? That really hurts my feelings and makes me sad. I do not know much but I do know that it is hurtful when you can’t even say you are Muslim to people for fear or discomfort that they will heap these categories on you and then start to make fun of you and push your buttons hoping that you become as “terrorist” as your culture and religion is said to be. The Native Americans also faced this travesty and so did Judaism you think people would understand by now it’s not fair. It’s not fair when you are rejected if you speak liberally or autonomously and then get bunched up with those types when you know that your content was different and part of both subculture and mainstream activities.
I give you this post by Mehreen Kasana who acknowledges the strife we regular Muslim people face due to prejudice and stereotypes.
Thank you for reading.
On my way to class, I take the Q train to Manhattan and sit down next to an old white man who recoils a noticeable bit. I assume it’s because I smell odd to him, which doesn’t make sense because I took a shower in the morning. Maybe I’m sitting too liberally the way men do on public transit with their legs a mile apart, I think to myself. That also doesn’t apply since I have my legs crossed. After a few seconds of inspecting any potential offence caused, I realize that it has nothing to do with an imaginary odor or physical space but with the keffiyeh around my neck that my friend gifted me (the Palestinian scarf – an apparently controversial piece of cloth). It is an increasingly cold October in NYC. Sam Harris may not have told you but we Muslims need our homeostasis at a healthy…
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