"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.

"Shareea": War

Being of Middle Eastern decent, I have many opinions about this war that has been taken over the news stations and the hearts of friends and family.

Because my parents are Iraqi, the moment I heard that the USA will be searching Iraq for Weapons of Mass Destruction I had ever emotion running through my head.

“When were we threatened by these weapons?” “How did they have proof of this?” “What would they do to Saddam?”

I was very young to understand most of what was going on, but one moment does stand out to me;

When the statue of Saddam was taken down by the "Iraqi" people.

My jaw dropped on the floor of my living room and I could remember my parents had the same reaction.

“Was it over?” “Is Saddam gone forever?”

My parents did not seem as thrilled as I was. I thought that they would have been ecstatic and be put at such ease because the evil, torture driven dictator was stripped of his power and that he could never do what he did to any other person any longer.

But they weren't happy, excited or overjoyed. They such sat there and watched what was happening. I think two main questions arouse in their heads that day.

1.) “Is this really the end of him?”

My parents left the warmth of their home village, their family and closest friends, and risked their own safety to leave Iraq because of this immoral man...I think it was too good for them to believe that he was that easy to conquer. They do not always believe in what the news media was showing them or telling them because they knew there are always two sides to every story.

2.) “What business did the US have to enter Iraq?”

You have to understand that this war did take down a wicked leader but it also tore a country to shreds. Families were split, thousands of people killed or severely inquired, and the citizens' safety was nowhere to be found. My parents knew this was a triumph for the US and in a way for Iraq but what next?

My parents looked at the big picture that I never even thought of, they were worried about their family and friends there, their churches, and where their once called home would go without leadership and mass chaos.

“Pthoukhla eynoukh”: Open your eyes

One of my favorite classes I have taken at my college was called Encounter with Cultures. This class was divided into 3 sections that covered Native American, African American, and Mexican culture and stereotypes.

Over the course of the semester I learned so much about these three cultures and I was beyond fascinated. During one of the sections, my professor had an activity planned that I will never forget.

In the beginning of class he made us move all of the desks and chairs aside and had the whole class stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, while he read off statements. If you felt like you were comfortable with the statement, he had you take a step forward. If you disagreed with the statement, you would just stand where you were.

The statements would sound like this: “I do not feel held back by the color of my skin” or “I am comfortable at the college I am at” or “When I am being loud or obnoxious, I know people will not associate it to my racial background”.

I began stepping forward with most of the other students in my class for quite a while. However, half way through I realized that I could not step any further, while the majority of the group was still stepping forward without hesitation. I looked behind me and there were only two other classmates that were left behind with me.

Sadness overcame my emotions.

When my professor was finished reading the 20 or so questions, he had everyone take a seat where they were standing.  Mostly every student, who was Caucasian, was on the other side of the classroom. For me and two other students it was a different story.

You see I like to think that my culture does not affect me in a negative way but only positive things happen to me because of my racial background. However, this isn’t true most of the time. I am effect by these stereotypes and preconceived notices. It’s probably the worst feeling you can ever have; the feeling that someone doesn’t like you because of your skin color or because of your racial background.

I learned that there isn’t much you can do about it but fully love and embrace who you are.

My professor asked us why we were sitting where we were. At this point, I had traveled to the middle of the classroom with another student of Hispanic descent.  What hurt me the most was to see my other classmate who couldn’t have taken more than one step during this whole activity. She was African American and she was at a loss for words as well as mostly everyone in the classroom.

Since my college is predominately white, like I mentioned before, it’s hard to find where you belong if you are a minority. I had to explain to her and the rest of the class that it’s hard to be the minority constantly. You always wish for that moment to be with people that are like you, that share your same race and background to just relax and breathe a sigh of relief knowing in their eyes no matter what you do, you will not be judged.  

Open your eyes.

Stereotypes can have such a vast impact on people.  I just hope that the results of this activity will forever be imbedded into the heads of these students and that these students will learn to love people for who they are on the inside not the outside.

"Ina ewhen Sueretha": I am Christian

All throughout high school and in the beginning of my college career I would constantly be asked the most closed-minded question;

         "Why don't you wear that 'thing' on your head?"

That "thing" is actually called a Hijab which is a head dress that is worn by Islamic women after they have started their menstrual cycle to symbolize their womanhood and modesty. Most women can decide to wear it and others it is dependent on the country they live in.

The reason this question is so hurtful is because of my religious standing. I was born and raised into a Catholic family. My parents were part of the 2% of Christianity that was left in Iraq. Chaldeans were slowly leaving Iraq due to the disrespect that their dictator had on their religious views and churches. I remember the sorrowful stories that my parents would tell me about how their family and friends' churches were bombed. Recently, my mother lost her childhood church and the priests of that church because of a vicious bombing.

You see, another reason my parents came to this country was for religious freedom. Being Catholic is one of traits that I hold so strongly and couldn't imagine my life without my religious views. They define me as a person and the way I act in everyday life.

When people would ask this question without even thinking twice, it confuses me. I understand I have dark skin, eyes and hair but that doesn't need to stamp my religious views on my forehead. Imagine if someone assumed you were Jewish or Atheist without even getting a chance to understand who you are or where you come from.

I wish that people would think twice before they speak and also not assumed that all stereotypes are correct. This is where my culture has its downs but I also think it’s because of the culture America has supported. I love America and I hope that in generations to come, citizens can become more aware of others and the great, culture-rich tossed salad that we, American citizens, are together.

"Meehe?": What?

The uprisings in the Middle East have taken my breath away. Of course, I despise the fact that people are being killed and injured. However, I am in love with the idea that the people simply will not take one more second of their dictator's leadership. My heart goes out to everyone that has been involved within these rebellions. I am so proud to see the people taking their beliefs into action and proving that they are powerful, that they have a will as well.

These current uprisings remind me of the very reason my parents left their country of Iraq. I feel connected to the people in these uprisings because I can understand their frustration. My parents would tell me stories of times where Iraqis were killed just because of what they had written about their dictator, Saddam Hussein. Anything that was written that undermined him in any way was basically a death sentence for the reporter and even their family. Ones under a dictatorship are not granted such freedoms as Americans; like me. That is why I rejoice in what is happening in the Middle East. Freedom is important, not just to Americans, but to everyone.

I challenge you to imagine life without the freedom of religion or freedom of the press or any ounce of freedom. It’s impossible. To me that life would simply be unbearable.

These uprisings have a reason, a purpose. I hope all could be proud for what these people have taken into their own hands and appreciate their bravery.

"Ina": Me

My life has been anything but normal to most. I always feel like I am different and being judged for my appearance or what I say. It is not easy being the odd man out most of the time. I am a twenty year old Chaldean-American. My parents were born and raised in Iraq and immigrated to America in their early twenties on the hopes of freedom.

They finally had their freedom and have never turned back since. My parents are my role-models, heroes and reasons for living the way I do. Always being different does have its tolls on you (especially when I am going to a predominately white college where they’re barely any students of Middle Eastern descent) but I unbelievably wouldn't have it any other way. My culture has given me an amazing outlook on life and such an open mind to others and their culture where I have grown and am still thriving today. This blog is going to show you the ups and downs of my culture-rich life while being a college student and trying to understand everything that is happening around me.

So buckle up and enjoy the ride.