This past Sunday my wife and I had the very great honor of being invited to attend the ordination of a friend in the Orthodox Church. The ordination was conducted in three languages, English, Greek and Arabic. Often thought of as the “Greek” Orthodox Church or the “Russian” Orthodox Church, it is not always remembered that the church also extends across the Middle East. My friend is second generation Lebanese. The Bishop spoke in an accent that reminded me of a character from the movie “Name of the Rose,” though I did not learn the Bishop’s national origin.
At the celebratory meal that followed, we had the opportunity to sit at a table with a Jordanian family. Father and mother had emigrated from Jordan to the United States in the 1970’s to pursue the American dream. They wanted their children to be born in America. Settling in southern California, they had established a successful business, raised a family now including grand children. Ibraham spoke eloquently, through a distinct middle eastern accent, of his love for America and California.
He also spoke of nearly losing his business after 9/11 as customers avoided him. He put it in the context of having faith in his ability to survive today’s recession which he described as “not so bad” in comparison. He didn’t say how many of his pre-9/11 customers never came back.
Yesterday I stopped for lunch at one of my favorite little restaurants. It’s an Italian place owned by a Palestinian couple. They sit down at the table to talk with their customers sometimes. Yesterday their son, a senior in high school, sat down to say hello. He was at the restaurant because he had been suspended from school for fighting.
He was only nine on September 11, 2001, the day his life changed in ways that most of us can’t appreciate. From that day forward he was the Arab, the Muslim kid in class. Not an easy thing to be then, or now. He and I have talked about it before. Over the years he learned how to deal with it. He learned how to joke in the face of insults. He Americanized his name to “Mo”, short for Mohammed. And, he learned how to build his body with daily trips to the gym, and how to fight when he had to, or when he had just had enough, like the other day.
I asked him why he had been suspended. He wasn’t ashamed. “Some kid called me a f…ing Muslim, and I punched him in the face.” He told me the kid fell to floor, but got back up, and how he wished he had hit him hard enough so he wouldn’t have gotten back up. But, he didn’t throw another punch, just walked away.
Is Mo a radical? No. His is the American dream of his parents. He wants to get a Masters Degree in Marketing, make money, own a house, drive a fancy car, get married and raise a family. The same dreams my friend who was ordained on Sunday has [yes, Orthodox priests can marry]. The same dreams held to by the Jordanian family who we joined for a meal.
But, all of them have dark, olive complexions that give away their middle eastern roots. They have names like Mohammed and Salah and Ibraham and Fatima. Many speak with Arabic accents. The women cover themselves head to toe, with a headscarf to hide their hair. They are forever suspect, everywhere. They can’t board a plane without being pulled aside for a search. Yeah, I know, we don’t profile. Bull. Ask an Arab-American if that’s true.
Ask what it’s like to feel the suspicious eyes on you in a shopping mall. Ask how long it takes, and how many patrol cars show up, to get through a routine traffic stop driving home from work. Salah could tell you. Ask what it’s like to have a kid in school, or be a kid in school if your roots are Lebanese, Jordanian, or Palestinian. You don’t even have to be Muslim. Ask Orthodox Christian businessman Ibraham. I wonder how many of us could cling to the American dream in their place.
Yes, it’s true that they are not the first immigrants or descendants of immigrants to face discrimination, and yes it’s true that people with the same olive complexion and similar names flew planes into the World Trade Center towers. But that does not justify bias, hatred and disparate treatment.
According to the Arab American Institute, there are approximately 3.5 million Arab Americans. My question is how many accept discrimination and continue to chase the American dream like Ibraham and Salah, and how many others react differently and become radicalized, not by the message of radical Islam but by the treatment of their fellow Americans? And, I worry about how many more times Mo can be called a “f…ing Muslim” before his dream changes?
[Author’s Note: the picture at the top is of an Arab American girl putting up a sign that reads “Organize, Register, Vote”.]
Contributor, aka tidbits. Retired attorney in complex litigation, death penalty defense and constitutional law. Former Nat’l Board Chair: Alzheimer’s Association. Served on multiple political campaigns, including two for U.S. Senator Mark O. Hatfield (R-OR). Contributing author to three legal books and multiple legal publications.