“You’re not Muslim are you?” a guy from university once asked me. My heart started beating really fast as I searched for words.
I felt like I was being asked a trick question. I am proud of who I am and all but that particular time I hesitated. I felt like I was about to be ousted. What perceptions does this guy have about my religion?
Will he think of me differently? “Yes – but I’m still me!” is what I wanted to say. What I actually said was “Well – my parents are (mumble… mumble …mumble)”. I wish I could go back and punch myself in the face.
Many have written about how immigrant kids—those whose parents or grandparents migrated—generally feel a greater sense of loss and isolation. You’re thinking, “Quit whining”, right? I was lucky to be born, educated and raised in one of the best places on earth. I agree. So what’s the problem? Identity. The world is based off of identification. It feeds off it.
Superficial adjectives like ‘black’, ‘rich’, ‘white’, ‘fat’ are meant to sum up a person’s entire complex history and identity in a single word. We form assumptions as a result of these words and what they have come to mean to us in our own contexts. We define others based on those words and we allow them to define ourselves.