Sumaya Bouadi
I don't actually exist, I think, as an Arab-American, Muslim woman. At least, that's what every single media representation tells me, because I have actually never in my life seen an Arab-American, Muslim woman as a lead on a TV show or a movie (or even as a secondary character. Or really as anything not covered in a niqab. So if I exist, I exist with only my eyes showing. The census tells me I'm white, which I deeply disagree with - the way I look is not a standard of beauty, I have never seen people who like me in any political position of power in America, I have never had parts of my cultures discussed in anything but a deeply racist, xenophobic way on the national stage. So. I'm a woman of color, but I'm white passing enough to avoid racist comments on the street, but not if I'm wearing my hijab, and not enough for the, "With a name like that, I knew you couldn't be a white girl!" comment from my high school boss when she noticed my roots were curly, back in the days when I straightened my hair. So I'm a woman of color, but not enough to share the experiences of other people of color; instead of having stereotypes about myself, I am erased, or reduced down to a single article of clothing: the hijab. Other than that, I am invisible: Arab-Muslim men exist as violent terrorists in the American consciousness, but Arab-Muslim women? We're just headscarves. And we certainly can't be native born Americans with a deep love of Texas. I'd say we speak with an accent, but I've never heard us speak. So this leaves me: someone with an African citizenship who isn't African-American, an Arab-Berber that is somehow white, and still not existing in the national conversation.













