eight years later

Note: I originally wrote and published this piece in November 2016. Though the bulk of the content remains true to this day, reading it back now I realize that I no longer have the same wistful (naive?) outlook I once held. Despite my feelings at that time, I was proud to be American, a sentiment that has changed considerably over the years for a multitude of reasons; the last eight years have not been kind to my optimistic soul.

“I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America"

Every morning in school, we would put our hands over our hearts, turn towards the flag, and recite these words before we started our day. I didn’t really understand what it meant, but growing up Muslim, I thought that pledging allegiance to a flag was in some way blasphemous. I would sometimes mouth the words or hover my hand over my chest, as if that would somehow alleviate the importance of this ritual I partook in.

“And to the Republic for which it stands”

The only things I remember of that September day in the third grade, besides the news being told over the speakers at school, was that afternoon cartoons were cancelled. I didn’t understand why every single channel on TV was showing the same wreckage all night. It wasn’t until the fifth grade, learning our American history, that I began to understand what happened in a historical context and what that meant going forward. I decided then that it was my dream to stop terrorism, to keep everyone safe always, and that obviously to do this, I would have to be the first woman president of the United States. Though my path has obviously since changed, it still hurts to think I could be the first.

“One Nation under God”

I knew in my heart that I was Muslim, but you couldn’t tell from looking at me. I was just another awkward Indian preteen with weird facial hair and whose biggest worry was if I should really join the skinny jean movement. It was the summer before high school that my best friends and I decided to start wearing the hijab. I was so nervewrackingly anxious that registration day in 2007, certain that people would see the olive green triangle scarf on my head and not want to be my friend anymore. I had a dialogue prepared in my head for why I did it and what it meant, but I of course didn’t have to use it as my friends didn’t even bat an eye. For the most part, nothing seemed to change for me after starting the hijab.   

“Indivisible”

I ran for class council that year; to campaign, you were allowed to put up a number of flyers around the school. I spent hours crafting clever statements and picking the perfect picture of me to put on the posters, and then naturally plastered all of the school hallways with my hard work. When walking past one about a few days into campaigning, I noticed the word “terrorist” scrawled in pen along the bottom of the poster. Heart racing, tears in my eyes, I ripped down the poster and never spoke of anyone regarding the incident. This is the first time I’m ever mentioning it, and it’s because it was in that moment that I personally learned a harsh truth: people can and will label you and fear you and hate you and judge you for simply being different from themselves. I have been lucky to have never had my physical safety threatened as others have, but that shouldn’t be a blessing – it should be a right.

“With liberty and justice for all.”

This country was founded as a religious haven, for people to believe in whatever they want without fear of oppression. I refuse to be afraid of being who I am. For those who don’t know me, I will smile more and laugh harder and talk louder and dress better and try to appear more normal in public. I am exhausted by the effort of trying to be more so that I can get the same respect and attention that some command by simply existing. No matter how different you are from me, regardless of my beliefs or your beliefs, I will always treat you with respect and with kindness that each one of us deserves. I have made it my mission in life to be the best person that I can possibly be: a practicing Muslim, a dedicated student, a patriotic American, a loyal friend. I will no longer do it to prove myself to others, but rather for myself. I truly do believe that humans are fundamentally good, that fear and hatred are learned, that apathy can be overcome, and that in the end, our divisions can be healed.

- Nabiha Quadri, November 2016