Loading ...I am Muslim. I am Arab. I am Canadian
By: Shaden Ahmed / Arab America Contributing Writer
Trigger Warning: This article may contain content that triggers Islamophobia or Arabophobia…
My Life Isn’t a Movie – But It Sure Feels Like One
To the dismay of my middle school classmate who accused me of masterminding 9/11 at the age of 13 (flattering, considering I didn’t even know how to solve an algebraic equation), the cyclist last year who interrupted my mid-day walk, unpromptedly requesting (at the top of his lungs with his middle finger up) that I go back to where I came from, and I quote, “you disgusting Iraqi,” or the woman who angrily threatened to have her unleashed dog attack me for reading in the park (yes, my life is a movie, and I am just as confused as you), this is, unfortunately not my manifesto on how I plan on taking over the world.
The Privilege to Look Away or to Not Look Away
What a troubling display of privilege when people complain about hearing “too much” about global atrocities, as if merely listening to news of genocide is causing them an incurable migraine. In contrast, I’ve also seen the way my non-Arab friends have been taking the time to learn about these ongoing injustices and are actively engaging in conversations about them, planting solid feet on the humanitarian side of history.
Rather than presenting a statistics report (which we should continue to read), I would like to investigate the hypocrisy that festers like an infected wound beneath the indifference of these microaggressions. So, dear ex-classmate, cyclist, and woman being walked by her dog—I mean, “walking her dog,” allow me to address your concerns.
Ignorant Questions, Honest Answers
Why don’t we go back to where we came from?
First of all, rewind.
Mr. Cyclist, did someone in your lineage ever immigrate here? If so, I have some news for you. Just like you, I grew up and went to school here. If it is the maple leaf on your passport, owning a house here, having family or friends here that makes this your home, then it is just as much my home as it is yours.
As for visiting my family overseas, we do and will continue to go for as long as we can despite the bombs being dropped on our neighborhoods, schools, and hospitals. We count down the days until we get to visit our loved ones, praying the last time we visited wasn’t the last.
Why doesn’t your family overseas just flee?
If people stormed into your home and claimed it as their own, how long would you stay and fight to preserve your dignity? And if you left your family and roots, say, for the sake of your children’s futures, how would you feel knowing that they would only experience their land, language, and heritage through stories of the past?
So tell me, dear ex-classmate, why would we, the barbaric Arabs, bomb our own countries? How are we, the immigrants and refugees, the terrorists? Before you judge, empathize. Before you speak, learn. Before you hide, question your privilege.
A Wise Woman Once Reflected, “I Wish I Was a Normal Girl”
Now, allow me to shift gears. Growing up as a minority in Canada, I remember 10-year-old Shaden closing her eyes, whispering to God to kindly pull a few strings and use His divine powers to fulfill my dream of fitting in. I had four very teeny, tiny, gentle requests: make me blonde, eliminate my thigh jiggle (seriously, I would have had a heart attack if I’d seen what happened to my thighs after puberty), give me colored eyes, and change my name to Amy… I’ll pause for you to laugh out loud.
No rush; take your time.
The request was put on hold for a long time. I waited and waited, but my brown hair just kept getting longer, my thighs kept getting bigger, and the only thing changing about my eyes was my new prescription every few months. God, let me be the one to deny my own request. I soon realized that we are not meant to fit in by erasing parts of ourselves; we were made to stand out.
It is funny now—I still laugh about it—but it’s also heartbreaking to see how I was conditioned to believe this was the only way I could feel accepted- by myself and others: for me to change my features that proudly showcase the unique blend of my parents’ lineages, or my rare, Arabic name that means “baby dear.”
PS- No shade to blonde Amy’s who have colored eyes, by the way. We can both be beautiful. Sending you love, my girl.
Embracing Identity With No Apology: My Journey To Self Acceptance
Now is the time to embrace our heritage like never before and refuse to be made to feel smaller than we are. Over time, I realized that Canadian values of inclusivity also meant embracing my own inner diversity and finding compassion for all my layers.
Now, I care for my body and soul through ancestral practices and have found that living for and through God is the foundation of my unapologetic self-acceptance. I meditate through prayer, manifest through duaa, and practice mindfulness through dhikr. I fast for spiritual discipline and affirm my intentions through sujood, grounding myself in the Quran while thanking God for all He has given and taken away.
ولي أقرب الحبايب -قبل أن تبتعد عن الله بسبب صدمة دينية أو شكوك شخص آخر، ابحث عنه بنفسك. قبل أن تتجنب مشاركة أنك عربي أو مسلم، تذكر: انزعاجهم ليس مسؤوليتك.
You are who you are- embrace it and make it everyone’s problem. If people are offended by who you are, where you’re from, or the languages you speak, so be it. If you being you and speaking your truth is labeled as “controversial,” that’s never your fault.
I pray God guides us, heals our grief, protects our homes, and grants us belonging in pure-hearted communities. May we all be rewarded in Jannah.
With love,
Shaden Ahmed
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