"Salata": Salad

A couple weeks ago, I got in one of those healthy moods at my dining hall and I brought back some pita bread and a side of hummus. I was really excited to try the hummus at my college since I was very hesitant because I had only eaten homemade hummus before.

When I sat down, in the middle of the table, I took some of the hummus and spread it onto the pita and took a huge bite. I was completely surprised that it was actually really good.

Me: “Guys, this hummous is great!”

Girls: “What did you say?”

Me: “This hummous is great.” As I was pointing at the bread before I took another bite.

Girls: giggling. “What did you say…Homeless?”

I was shocked at their reaction. I did not expect to be made fun for the “right” way of saying on how to say this Arabic spread. Granted they are all my close friends and were just poking fun at me like most friends do. Expect when it comes to my culture, it is different.

I am constantly defending my culture and even explaining my culture to those who have not heard the Chaldean culture. When friends made fun of me, I was just frustrated. After arguing with them, I just dropped it because I knew in this battle I was outnumbered.

This got me thinking. I could have just said it the American way and no one would have questioned it. But, I cannot do that. It hurts me every time I say an Arabic word the English way.

You are probably wondering, “Well why? It’s just a word.” But to me it is more than that; it is who I am.

If I decided to lose that battle, what would stop me from losing every other battle? Coming to a predominately Caucasian college, I have never felt the push to conform (by my peers especially) as strong as I do now. I was born in America and am fully in love with the millions of opportunities that this amazing country has to offer me. However, I was not raised as most Americans are raised. I was born and raised in a full-blooded, full blown Chaldean family and culture. To make that even stronger, I attend a Lebanese populated, speaking, and eating Catholic Church. So the Middle Eastern culture is logically imbedded into my head.

As a young adult I have had much practice fighting these narrow-minded battles. I hate to admit it but I struggle, I struggle to keep a firm grip on my culture. There isn’t many people that I know who are in the same spot that I am in, especially at my college. It is a never ending battle. I am the army of this battle, the lone solider.

The times that I do retreat in “battle,” I cannot stand myself. I do not, by any means, try to shove my culture down anyone’s throat, but I do not like to act like it is not there like that it is not me. I try to imagine if my parents did that when they first immigrated to America and how they must have felt the need to conform. What if they had conform? Who would I be today? Where would my mindset be?

The answers are unknown and I would like to keep it that way. My parents are my everything. I am blessed because of them, I am culturally aware because they raised me to be this way. I love who I am. I am different and I would love the rest of the world to accept that fact. I wonder about how people like me acted in my position and what their respond to a group of their friends was.

Did they fall into the hidden trap of conformity?

Imagine an America where everyone was the same. Everyone spoke the same way, dressed the same, acted the same and thought the same. Where would we be? The answer is nowhere.

America should not be a melting pot; where every culture is forced to conform, just like every ingredient blends into the taste of the soup. America needs to be a tossed salad; where every culture is represented respectively in one country, just like every ingredient is shown individually but works well together all in one salad.