Mr. Trump, The Average “White” Person Does NOT Seem to be Banning Me
Reflections of an American Muslim Woman at the Grocery Store
I was captioning the picture above that I snapped on my way back from my grocery trip today when I ran out of the word limit on Instagram before even finishing halfway through of what I wanted to write. So I figured a Medium post would suffice being my blank canvas.
First, let’s get this clear: I am NOT a “political” person. In fact, all the time that I ever spend on Medium is reading about mental health, relationships and troubled childhood; and hence, fantasizing about one day writing like Abby Norman for Human Parts or The Coffeelicious as I too have my own unpublished drafts and stories on the aforementioned topics that I don’t have the courage to share with the world yet.
Second, I don’t know why I have been religiously following the developments of the aftermath of the San Bernardino shootings too closely. Maybe because as an American Muslim this hits home way too close or perhaps I haven’t yet forgotten the trauma of being present in Boston during the Boston Marathon bombing 2 years ago. However, seeing the pictures of one of the San Bernardino shooters, Tashfeen Malik, a hijabi (a Muslim woman clad with a headscarf) like me all over the media has left me very unsettled. All this time I had thanked God that only some Muslim men had gone crazy and done crazy things but never a Muslim woman. Unfortunately, that is no longer the case now.
No wonder, when I started walking home today from my seminary after class in broad daylight Texas; of course, I was suddenly conscious of my brown skin and black-colored, “Muslim” attire.
I never dress in all black from head to toe. The artist in me has refused to do that except for legitimate reasons like a funeral or special event. But today was an anomaly when after waking up late, I grabbed whatever was most convenient and comfortable: a black abaya (the ankle-length outer garb that some Muslim women adorn themselves with) that I pulled over my pajamas, and a black scarf with white flowers that I had been eyeing for a few days. Clearly, I did not check the weather forecast before dressing up to realize that my jacket and woolen hat would be of no use towards camouflaging my “Muslimness” today.
However, I reminded myself of a saying of Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him) that I had shared on Facebook last night, recognizing that true protection comes from God alone:
“Be mindful of God and God will protect you. Be mindful of God and you will find Him in front of you. If you ask, then ask God [alone]; and if you seek help, then seek help from God [alone]. And know that if the nation were to gather together to benefit you with anything, they would not benefit you except with what God had already prescribed for you. And if they were to gather together to harm you with anything, they would not harm you except with what God had already prescribed against you. The pens have been lifted and the pages have dried (meaning it has all been decreed already).”
I walked a mile to the local grocery store near my apartment complex. In its parking lot, I saw an old man literally taking baby steps towards the store with a cane in each of his two hands. I wanted to ask him if he needed any help but fearing that I might hear an old-craky-man-anti-Muslim-bashing from him, I went in and grabbed a cart for myself. However, I felt guilty for being so selfish and when I looked behind my shoulder, I saw that he hadn’t even succeeded at crossing the road yet.
I told myself to “screw it!” and dumped my cart. I went out to ask him if I could fetch the electric cart for him. He was so delighted and he thanked me for being “so kind” when in reality only God knew that I had given in to my own bias earlier. I struggled to move the electric cart and eventually asked an employee for help who clearly was having a bad day and drudgingly came to help me. The old man was so ecstatic as he got into the cart telling me that today one of the “cart boys” were not outside to help him. He introduced himself as “Jimmy” and gave me a warm and tight handshake. Honestly, I haven’t received such a beaming, genuine smile from someone in a LONG time!
I was then gauging some vegetables and fruits in the reduced produce shelf, again very conscious of my Muslim identity, when an old woman struck conversation with me about how she loves looking through that shelf too because one can always such good finds.
She then said, “If you don’t mind me saying this, but you are a very beautiful woman,” and then apologized again if she had offended me.
I immediately responded, “Why would I? Thank you! Growing up, I did not believe that.”
She replied, “I am so sorry that you had to go through that. I felt the same when I was growing up but now when I look at my high school photographs, I tell myself that I was a pretty beautiful woman!”
I headed to the checkout counter and saw that my favorite cashier, Kim, was at checking out customers at one them. So I went and stood in line.
Kim is a cheerful middle-aged woman who as soon as she saw me exclaimed, “I was looking for you! You haven’t been here for a while, so I noticed.” She then winked and added, “Because YOU are my bag pack girl!” — since I don’t take plastic grocery bags but stuff my bag pack instead every time I shop.
On my way out, I dropped a donation into the Salvation Army kettle. The man jiggling the bell for them zealously wished me, “Merry Christmas!” as we bonded over belonging from New England, him from Maine and myself from Massachusetts.
So Mr. Trump, let me help you guess. All the four people that I encountered at the grocery store today were old white people like you. Yes, they have white hair like you too. But no, they did not ban me from the store, let alone the United States.
I thank the Lord that you were NOT my president when I traveled all by myself 1000s of miles away from home, and came to the States as a curious teenager seven and a half years ago. If it wasn’t for America, I would have never discovered my own faith in the way I did nor would I have put on the hijab, a decision that is very difficult for many women even in Muslim majority countries.
Fortunately my friends and mentors in America are not racist bigots and to perhaps your disappointment, most of them are white too.
Maybe you should visit Mount Holyoke College to learn that having Muslims travel to the United States is not only beneficial to the greater American society because of all the good that we have to offer, but also to learn how not to become a chauvinist. Perhaps, you too would end up like all the old white people I’ve come to be known to, including those whom I met at the grocery store today: a normal human being.
I hope you do. At least before you officially run for president of this country.
