“So when 9-11 happened I was in high school. My dad sits everybody down. He’s like, “Hasan, whatever you do, do not tell people you’re Muslim or talk about politics.” “Alright, Dad, I’ll just hide it. This just rubs off.” We’re sitting there. Phone rings. I run, but my dad beats me to the phone. “Hello?” I grab the second phone. I hear a voice. “Hey, you sand ******, where’s Osama?” He looks at me. “You can hear me, right? You fucking dune coon. Where’s Osama?” “Hey, 2631 Regatta Lane, that’s where you live, right? I’m going to fucking kill you.” Click. And my dad’s looking at me. Do you ever see your parents, and you see the mortality in them? I’m looking at my dad and I see all five-seven of him. And that’s when I realize I’m a darapok. I’m a scaredy-cat. We can speak two languages. We can speak at home and outside. I should have said something. I didn’t. We sit down. I hear “thud, thud, thud” outside. Me and Dad run outside and all the windows on the Camry are smashed in. My backpack’s open. “Fuck, they stole my stuff.” I reach and I pull out my backpack. Pieces of glass get caught in my arm. Now blood is gushing down my arm, and I’m pissed, I’m fucking mad. Fuck this, man! These kids know where we live, they’re timing this, so they’re watching us. So I’m looking in the trees, the bushes… I look back in the middle of the street, my dad is in the middle of the road sweeping glass out of the road like he works at a barbershop. “We’ve got customers. Log kya kahenge? We’ve got to clean this up.” Zen! Brown Mr Miyagi, just, like, not saying a word. I’m like, “Why aren’t you saying something? I’m asking you, say something!” He looks at me and goes, “Hasan… These things happen, and these things will continue to happen. That’s the price we pay for being here.” That’s when I was like, “We really are from two different generations.” BMX bikes aside. My dad’s from that generation where he feels like if you come to this country, you pay the American dream tax. You endure racism, and if it doesn’t cost you your life, pay it. There you go, Uncle Sam. But for me, I was born here. So I actually have the audacity of equality. I’m like, “I’m in Honors Gov, I have it right here. Life, liberty, pursuit of happiness. All men created equal.” It says it right here, I’m equal. I’m equal. I don’t deserve this. But as soon as I say that… He looks at me like I believe in Santa. “Hasan, you’ll never understand.” “I’ll never understand? Dad, you’re the guy that will argue with the cashier at Costco when he doesn’t let you return used underwear. And now you want to be the bigger man? Now you’re like, ‘Let’s be reasonable with the bigots.’ What?” And then he just walks back into the house with glass in his feet. And I honestly don’t know who is more right. Maybe he’s right. Put your head down. Be a doctor, get a house in the burbs, let them call them whatever you want. But isn’t it our job to push the needle forward little by little? Isn’t that how all this stuff happens? I don’t know. The pendulum swings back and forth for me. And I know 9/11 is a super touchy subject. I understand. Because when it happened, everyone in America felt like their country was under attack. But on that night, September 12th, it was the first night of so many nights where my family’s loyalty to this country was under attack. And it always sucks. As immigrants we always have to put on these press releases to prove our patriotism. We’re auditioning. “We love this country, please believe me.” Nobody loves this country more than us.”
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
jacobvanloon
kaledo-art
