I have a very complex identity, being a Palestinian/Greek Muslim girl. I was always admired for my decision to convert to Islam and my non-Muslim friends always asked about my religion and attended religious events with me to learn more. My roommate even prayed with me once to show solidarity and to further understand my religion. The Islamic community back in America is generally supportive because they are aware of the challenges of being Muslim and America: Sticking to your beliefs but integrating into American society. This is something unique to American Muslims that Muslims in Arab countries judge and do not understand. Living in Jerusalem exposed me to the stereotypes I already knew about but it was nonetheless challenging.
The other part of my identity, a big one, is being Palestinian. I am very passionate about my beliefs and everyone around me is aware of that. I would often receive messages asking “What do you think of this article?” or “Your activism is admirable and I greatly respect you.” My work wasn’t hateful towards Israel and I lived and became close friends with a girl who shared opposite views than me, so traveling to Jerusalem didn’t suddenly push me to think “All Israelis are human.” Yet, it pushed me out of my comfort zone and allowed me to step into a space where I began to see the situation differently because I lived it. ...continue reading "Identity"
Tag: Middle East
Beginning Life in Istanbul
By sturtle7
Hola friends! I am now into my third week abroad in Istanbul which is both an amazing yet disorienting feeling. In a sense I feel like I have been here for much longer but when I Skype my friends back home I realize that my arrival was only moments ago. Leaving my community back home is obviously a difficult transition but I am so grateful for the community I am beginning to build here. I can already say it has brought much comfort to living everyday life in which most encounters often involve people being shocked I am American, asking "no really where are you from," and leaving me frustrated that I sometimes live in a dual world of being American and Egyptian but in the eyes of some never fully being either. Below are some of my favorite things about my community:
The Bosphorus: Much like the Lincoln Memorial or the Washington Monument, the Bosphorus has easily become one of my favorite places to spend my time when I am stressed or need something to leave me in awe of where I am at the moment.
The Mosques: As a muslim, my religion is extremely important to me. It is so beautiful to me to be able to hear the call to prayer five times a day and know that a mosque is only steps from where I am from.
Community Abroad
Identity Crisis
My identity has long been a place of confusion and resentment. I'm a Palestinian-Greek American. Three vivacious and similar yet so different cultures wrapped into one person. It doesn't stop there. I'm also a convert to Islam. I was raised with my mother who is Greek, Christian and attended Greek School and church from a young age. I didn't know anything about my Palestinian culture because I didn't even know I was Palestinian until I was around seven years old. I knew I was half Arab because of my different last name and foreign father, but that was irrelevant to my life because I didn’t live with him. As far as I was concerned, I was a Greek, American girl who for some reason didn't feel complete with my Greek friends and felt different from my American friends. Little did I know that identity crisis was soon to take a more dramatic turn. ...continue reading "Identity Crisis"
Lost in translation
By sturtle7
Hello! Welcome to my first blog! My name is Sherin Nassar, a junior majoring in International Affairs and Economics! This semester I am studying abroad in Istanbul, Turkey! I am so excited for this journey because I firmly believe it will lead me to a greater understand on myself.
This blog post revolves around identity-how we each view ourselves and how in return people see us. This past year, I've learned my identity changes with each challenge I take on. I see myself as ambitious, always wanting to take on more to see how I can further develop. These ambitions are firmly rooted in my parents' immigrant background. They come over twenty five years ago from Egypt in search of the American dream. Their pursuits and passions as well as their hard work are ingrained into who I am today: someone not only looking to make them proud but to make people believe that the future is truly yours for the taking. ...continue reading "Lost in translation"
18 Hours in the Rif Mountains
By sreyavaidya
This past year, I have slept on many things in many places. Trains, planes, and cars. Often, we stayed in the shadiest hostels weaved into the dimly lit alleyways of Kasbahs (Islamic citadel) all over Morocco. When I think bank on these unglamorous times with the dusty furniture, lumpy mattresses, and foreboding journeys to get to them, I’m reminded not of the tiredness I felt from lack of sleep, or the ache in every bone in my body. Instead, I remember the unimaginable experiences and sites they have lead me to discover: The sprawling and vibrant Fes Medina, the largest in the world; The blue streets of Chefchouen; The secluded beaches of Tangier where the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean finally meet, but, to name a few.
بلدين
Two weeks ago, I was sitting on a train to Casablanca when a woman sat down next to me. And a very matter-o-fact way she began telling me about her life, sharing pictures of her daughter and questioned me without inhibition my life. Like every other encounter I had this past semester, I had to carefully explain my identity to her. I was American, my ethnic identity was Indian and so forth. Hearing my explanation her facial expressions turned quickly from the confusion I was so used to, and instead lit up:
“Ah, baledeen.” she remarked. ...continue reading "بلدين"
Amreekia?
By sreyavaidya
At home, we are often in our own bubbles that tend to shape our identity to a point where we are desensitized to it. At home, little did I realize the diversity of American identity. Whether it is Indian-American, Asian American, or Italian-American we come in a spectrum that often eventually blurs out in the chaos of daily life.
However, in Morocco I’ve been forced to step out of this comfort zone. Never have I been made more aware of my Indian identity than when I encounter a cab driver in Rabat. He looks at my friends and immediately acknowledges “Ah, Amreekia” and then turns to me, with a pending curiosity and asks “But…what are you really”. One gentleman did not even give me the liberty to respond; he immediately questioned “Indian or Pakistani?”
Initially when the frequency with my “true” identity was question, began to annoy me. Why is it that I had to explain myself as an American when my friends did not? Suddenly, there was a barrier between us, which I either nor they had put up. At one point, this bothered even my friends. I remember my roommate responding very loudly before I could even process his question,
“No, she is American”. ...continue reading "Amreekia?"
Road Bike Party
By sreyavaidya
This is the first picture that was taken in Morocco. Pictured, are my roommate Brianna (left) and our Host Mother, Aisha, who we call “Hajja” as a term of endearment and respect. This picture was taken with two vastly different people that I never expected to connect with. When I look at it now, I am surprised how drastically our relationships have grown, and how integral they are to my Moroccan community.
This is Haj and Hajja our host mother and father. When Brianna and I were first nervously introduced to our elderly host parents, we assumed to enter a stern patriarchal Moroccan household. But little did we realize Haj and Hajja are the coolest grandparents ever. Haj loves to take walks around the neighborhood in his UVA baseball hat, shades, and shirt that reads “Road Bike Party”. Hajja likes to give him disapproving looks as he reaches for the sugar cubes at breakfast for his mint tea. Little do we realize that some beautiful nuances of relationships and community never change. ...continue reading "Road Bike Party"
Beginnings
By sreyavaidya
I landed in Surat, a buzzling and expanding city in the state of Gujarat in early July. I arrived with a suitcase full of Purell and a head full of preconceived notions that had me glancing back nervously for pickpockets and stalkers at every turn. The person I see six weeks later is much different, the kind of difference the protagonist in a cheesy coming-of-age movie undergoes.
Before I begin to chronicle my adventures through the streets of Rabat and map the changes it brings in me, it is important to understand my starting point. My starting point for Morocco begins at the end of my time India. ...continue reading "Beginnings"