Dear World, I kindly ask that you refrain from asking my children about their origins. My son, Amir, is named after a beloved family member, yet he doesn’t speak Arabic. Although he was born in Australia, I, his mother, was not born here. He can recite passages from the Quran and also knows the entire lyrics to popular songs like Silento’s “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae).” Amir embodies a blend of cultures, and I take great pride in this uniqueness. I wish to avoid categorizing my children, and I hope the world will respect their individuality as well.
Frequently, well-intentioned individuals approach Amir with the question, “Where are you from?” I label these inquiries as “well-intentioned” in an effort to remain optimistic, but the frequency of these encounters leads me to frustration. You may wonder what’s so problematic about this simple question. The issue lies in the fact that no matter how he responds, it never seems to satisfy the questioner.
If Amir states, “I am from Australia,” he often faces skepticism, given that I wear a hijab and he has olive skin and dark hair. Should he mention “Lebanon”—my birthplace, despite never having visited—he is met with the follow-up question, “When did you come to Australia?” Amir always answers, “I was born here,” which initiates a cycle of awkward and invasive questions.
This needs to stop, folks.
Just last week, I had an uncomfortable interaction at my children’s athletics day. A woman I had never met approached me and asked, “Are you Sarah’s mom?” When I confirmed my identity, she exclaimed, “But you wear a hijab! And Sarah is so intelligent and speaks English so well.” (I was left speechless.) To which I replied, “Yes, she’s quite talented. She hasn’t caught the hijabitis.”
Why should my daughter’s abilities be overshadowed by my choice of attire? Even in 2023, it’s disheartening how first impressions based on appearance influence our judgments of others. Each person has a unique story, some more complex than others, yet every narrative deserves respect. My children’s background is intricate, and I don’t want Amir to feel the need to explain:
“I’m from Australia. I was born here, as was my father. My mother came from her family’s homeland at the age of three, which is practically like she was born here as well. Would you like to see our citizenship papers? Oh, and thanks for acknowledging my great command of English and grammar; being Muslim doesn’t inhibit my linguistic capabilities.”
The disparity becomes even more evident when I consider Amir’s friend, Ethan, who was born in Ireland. His family moved here eight years ago and never faces such inquiries. I suspect this is due to the perception of his name and appearance as “normal” in Australia, while Amir’s differences draw attention. This could lead to troubling realizations for him in the future, and I may lack the answers he seeks.
In the meantime, I will continue to teach my children about the richness of individual narratives. I will emphasize that life is a multifaceted journey. They will learn that respect should be based on their actions, and I will instill in them the understanding that they are citizens of planet Earth, part of Team Humanity.
For those seeking more insights on fertility and home insemination, I recommend checking out some resources, including MakeAMom for helpful supplements and Mount Sinai for a wealth of information on pregnancy.
In summary, let us embrace each other’s unique backgrounds without the need for categorization. Every individual’s story contributes to the rich tapestry of humanity.
Leave a Reply