When I was 15 years old I was returning to America from Saudi Arabia, as I had gone on a vacation to visit family that I had not seen in years. I had a very enjoyable vacation, filled with family, food and fun. However, when I landed back in America all the enjoyment from my vacation was literally put into question. Soon after I arrived at Dulles International Airport, I was stopped by security who “requested”, as if I had a choice, that I come into the backroom with them for some questioning. They asked me “Where did you go”, “Why did you go”, “Who did you visit”, “How much money do you have”, “Who do you know there”, “Who are you travelling with” and so on. To be fair, the security guards were friendly and it wasn’t the questioning or the people that bothered me, it was the principle. What had I done wrong? I had gone to Saudi Arabia to visit family that I had not seen in many years. What was the harm in that? Did visiting my family all of a sudden make me a terrorist?
The fact of the matter is I had been singled out, as many other Arab people living in the United States, simply for my race. I had always thought that in America we did not judge anyone based on the color of their skin, but rather, by the content of their character. All of a sudden I felt as if though I thought wrong. The day that Osama Bin Laden died was when I received the most insults. Comments in school from people about how the NAVY SEALS killed my uncle or grandfather. Even in everyday life, being an Arab and Muslim in American society brought watchful eyes. Going out grocery shopping with my mother, who wears the headscarf, brought in stares from outsiders. Occasionally stares even turned into whispers. My mother and I never talked about those situations. Somehow, the two of us had acknowledged that we both knew, that those who judged based on what she wore, were just a small minority of the great people that lived in this country; just as how terrorists are a small minority of Muslims.
Despite my own experiences, it has not been difficult for me to live in American society. Instead I have loved living in this country, for what it stands for – democracy, freedom; for its ideals – justice, equality and for the opportunities it has given me – the opportunity to learn and succeed. Yet I know that there are Muslims who are not as fortunate as I am. Those who do not live in the United States but feel the aftereffects of 9/11 stronger than I could ever imagine. Those that have had to endure the punishment for the actions of a minority, and those whose story rarely gets told. To date, there have been over 1 million deaths due to the Iraq-Afghan war. Most of them innocent citizens of those countries. Just as I had been stopped at an airport purely for my skin color and name, these people have lost their lives purely for their skin color and the country they live in. In fact, Muslims are victims of terrorism more so than any other group of people across the world.
However I believe all is not lost. I believe in a bright future for the state of Muslim affairs in society. I believe that the issue of Islam vs The West is not an issue at all. I believe that all life is important. I believe in a day, in the not so distant future, where having a different skin color and name does not require you to get stopped at an airport and questioned. I also believe in a day where skin color does not make you victim to a drone attack. But most importantly, this is what I believe: A day in which a man is judged not by the color of his skin, but the content of his character.