By ecirrincione
There were protests planned for Jordan. Now nothing dramatic or horrifying had happened here, such as in next-door Egypt or Libya, but there was a nervous feeling in the air as Friday approached. Emails were sent to our parents, the State Department gave us a debriefing, and we all waited to see what would come out of it. Some students claimed they wouldn’t tell people they were American, others planned to stay out of the downtown area; each had their own plan to deal with the seemingly impending chaos.
Friday came and went, and some small protests materialized in front of the American Embassy, mosques and a gym. The police had come out in full force to quell any potential riots, but those riots never appeared.
I am an American, but I do not visibly look like one. Because I am a Muslim, I wear Islamic dress which has give me a “pass” to blend in with the local Jordanian culture. This has its pros and its cons. It’s great to have people automatically speak to you in Arabic and give you the local price for things, but it can be a little confusing trying to explain to them why you have no idea what they just said. As a Muslim American, I have two identities, which are often in conflict with one another. In America, Muslims are the “other”. We are not welcomed in politics or mainstream society. Ours mosques are targeted and infiltrated; some do not even consider us American. I have walked in the streets of DC to have people tell me “Go back to your own country”, even though I am in it. On the other hand, Muslims view America as the big bad monster in the room. Due to American foreign policy abroad, America is often seen as an antithesis to Islam and our Prophet. The recent film uploaded on YouTube did nothing to help that reputation.
When I am identified in public as an American Muslim, often times random strangers will want to know my opinion on the film. As a Muslim, I’m angry and hurt that our Prophet is disrespected. But as an American, I’m sad to see my countrymen being slain in Libya. I am an American, and I am a Muslim. And there is nothing incompatible about the two.
Living in Jordan, I have realized that what we need most is a dialogue. For many of the American people in my program, this is their first time being exposed to Muslims or Islam on a day-to-day basis. Perhaps many of the students are in Jordan to someday work for the FBI or the CIA. Perhaps they have come with Orientalist, racist or outdated opinions on how the Arab and Muslim world works. I hope that by walking the streets of Amman, interacting with the locals and being involved in the community shows Americans how Arabs and Muslims really live; that we are not the “other” or a problem to be fixed. Because the majority of Jordanians here love Americans! They are always eager to practice their English skills or talk about their family member who is back in the States. I have been in more conversations about someones cousin's son who works in New York that I can count. I have noticed that Jordanians love foreigners and are so happy to have this exchange of cultures.
I hope that the American people can teach a lesson to the Jordanians as well. That by interacting and meeting Americans who are eager to learn their language and participate in the culture, that we are not a monolith. That most Americans do not support the actions of the government, and we are all actively trying to make our country a better place. We are not all covert CIA agents, plotting to bring down the Middle East. We are not immoral or shallow creatures with no respect for Islam or Arab traditions. One of the greatest thing I have seen on this study abroad is how respectful the people in my program have been. All of the girls have been so eager to dress respectfully and paint a positive image of America abroad, it is so heartwarming to witness.
We have so much more in common than we think. If we would only stop disrespecting and insulting one another, we might have the opportunity to see how similar we really are.