Shanze+Zar

Shanze Zar I have worn the same necklace around my neck for seventeen years. At first glance, it looks like a simple gold pendant. However, upon further investigation, the secret is revealed—an Islamic prayer engraved in miniscule and intricate Arabic print. Having lived in America my whole life, it is fortunate that I have rarely happened to run into negative judgment from those I know due to my Pakistani-Muslim background. Despite that, I have always been highly aware of a deep racism and prejudice running through the hearts of many people in the United States of America. I was just seven years old on September 11, 2001. While settling into class for the day, we all heard about what had happened and the teacher turned on the news. We all watched in a mixture of childish fascination and fear as the Twin Towers were knocked down. Soon after, I learned what the term “racism” means. At that time, I lived in a small town in East Texas, and I felt the full-blown aftermath of 9/11 personally. Everywhere I looked, I saw American flags hanging outside homes and bumper stickers showing support for the United States. In music class, the teacher gave us lyrics and turned on the CD player, and we all sang along to patriotic songs. I sang with particular gusto and pride in this country that I call home. Despite my passion for my country, it became common knowledge that Muslims were to blame for the September 11 attacks. Children always have a tendency to take in information in an extreme manner, and eventually, my classmates began to understand that, “All Muslims are terrorists.” Soon enough, the teases and taunts commenced: “Go home, Muslim,” “You and your people shouldn’t be allowed on airplanes, who knows who else you might kill,” not only from the other children, but offhand comments and subtle glares from certain teachers indicated to me that, somehow, I was to blame. Even at such a young age, I managed to realize that in a time of distress, people tend to make assumptions and point fingers, so I just decided to forgive and forget. However, things took a serious turn for me when my best friend told me of how her brother put his backpack in the classroom and the teacher told him to leave it outside. When he asked why, she simply answered, “There could be a bomb in there.” For the teacher of small child to make such a comment was simply inappropriate, and that is when I realized just how serious the situation was. It is 2011 and Osama bin Laden is dead. I logged onto my Facebook to see many celebratory posts and updates, as well as offenses such as, “One Muslim down, the rest left to go.” Racism still exists… but times are changing. Although I still live in Texas, I go to a liberal private school in a bigger city. At times even though I feel some acidity from immature classmates, it always reassures me when it is the majority of my school that respects and defends my people and me. I swell with pride when after a sports league refuses multiple Islamic schools admission, my school fights back against this subtle racism. In response, my friend founds an Interfaith Group at our school, focused on tolerance and love for all, which fills me with deep gratitude. One April day of my junior year, on behalf of the Interfaith Group, I give a tour of my mosque to many students. I practically boil over with appreciation when a huge group attends, shows respect and interest, and genuinely thanks me afterward. I am equally relieved when the head of our mosque tells me that my group made a wonderful impression on the many people attending that same prayer. My initial effort was nothing but to allow students to take a peek at our mosque through a tour, but they instead end with a deeper respect and understanding for Islam. Times like these are the ones that continue to reassure me from time to time, that even though racism continues to exist, it is an ongoing battle that is possible to fight. It is one I participate in by choice, and I hope that one day my efforts to change majority opinion will be successful and that one day, the people of my otherwise wonderful country, will see what my necklace represents to my people and me, and that they may have a deeper appreciation for who Muslims truly are.