A few days ago, while driving on a cold evening on I-10, listening to This American Life, one of my favorite podcasts, I saw an oversized black truck on the lane to my left pass noisily in front of me. Not an unusual site in Houston. But what caught my attention was a large sticker on the back window. Something about it attracted me, and as I drove closer to the truck and read the words, I felt my heart sink. The sticker read: "Kill them All, Allah Will Deal With Them."
I turned off the radio. I've seen stickers like this before, though not with the same exact words. But on that night, my reaction to it was different. My usual reaction has been to drive past them as I tell myself there are hateful people everywhere, and remind myself that this is not the norm. I live in a diverse and tolerant city. The people I interact with every day are kind, loving, and accepting.
But that night a few days ago, I felt numb, defeated, overpowered, and exhausted. My eyes began to well up uncontrollably and heard myself mumble "God, I hate this world." The tears filled up my vision to the point where all I could see were overlapping blots of light and color. So I pushed my feelings deep inside and told myself I'll deal with this once I'm home. But every few seconds, I would feel the emotions inside of me resurface and I had to push them back harder. I kept thinking I want to catch up to this driver, get him out of his car, shake him and make him feel my presence. My real, actual, human presence. I wanted to show him how the hateful words he had advertised to the world made me feel. I wanted him to feel my anger and hurt. But a few seconds of lucidity would bring me back to reality and once again I tried to push my feelings inwards.
The night that I saw the truck was a few days after the Charlie Hebdo event, while the media was talking about it nonstop and the vitriol of some people was oozing across my computer screen. I tried to not read the articles, the comments, the posts, but it was impossible. As with every such event, my first reaction is "God, don't let it be a Muslim" while knowing in my heart that it is. And when my fears are confirmed, my heart sinks, and I try to ignore the news to no avail. Then I read the article and I read the comments and I feel defeated and small. I feel as though whatever I do or say will no longer matter. Millions of people are watching the news, and they are all thinking the same thing "Islam is evil and Muslims are evil." I feel as though no amount of education, no amount of words, no amount of peaceful action on my part will change that. I feel infinitely small.
It's been more than a week since I saw that truck, and my reaction to the driver, whoever he or she is has changed. I no longer want to shake him and make him feel my anger. I don't even care if his beliefs about my religion or me as a Muslim will change. In my attempt to soothe my feelings, I've imagined all sorts of different scenarios of how I will interact with that driver if I saw him, and I've decided that this is what it will look like:
I would introduce myself. Tell him "my name is Amenah. My name means 'peaceful' and I've never hated so hard to want to kill. I send peace your way. Have a great day."
I don't care how he will react because it doesn't matter. What matters is how I react. And I choose to react peacefully because I'm a lover and follower of Allah (SWT) and Al-Mustafa Muhammad (PBUH), and because I am a human being like every other human being on this planet. And we all deserve to live -- otherwise we wouldn't have been created in the first place.
--AK
