You are living with a foot in each of two worlds. It is not easy, yet you see benefits to it. Can you talk about that? How does it enhance your life? Does your faith give you strength in this challenging situation?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nI feel like a person who experienced Plato\u2019s cave theory. Before I became a Muslim, I experienced the United States as a white American woman. I knew there was racism and prejudice, but I hadn\u2019t experienced it myself, directly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Knowing there is hate is not the same as having a woman physically prevent you from reaching your injured son because she hates his colour so much, seeing real hate in her eyes. Wearing hijab, I had a window into how non-white people experience the United States. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw how white people often treat non-white people. I love my country, but there is a very dark side to how minorities are treated in the US \u2013 a reality many white Americans haven\u2019t experienced or don\u2019t understand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before becoming Muslim, I saw and experienced one segment of America. I still experience that part of my country, but I now better understand how other communities experience the US as well. That\u2019s important. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s important to how I treat and interact with others. But it\u2019s also important internally to how I understand myself and my role in the world. Marrying a black man, being married to black man for 20+ years, and having black children, this has further expanded my view of, and experience with, all segments of the US. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thought the US, the cave, was one thing, only to see that the world was much more complex, but also more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I have more access to other languages, other cultures, other worldviews and religious understandings, other viewpoints and ways of seeing reality. My world has expanded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s hard to say where my faith has given me strength to deal with all of these complex issues, as the truth is that my faith has given me a completely different filter through which to see the world. Islam is not something you practice on a limited basis, it\u2019s a religion that comprehensively covers every action every individual undertakes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It teaches me the importance of being a great neighbour. It teaches how all humans are created equal, and that we are only unequal in our actions to help others, protect the environment and be good caretakers of our families and communities. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It demands that you give someone 70 excuses for bad behaviour towards yourself in case you\u2019re misunderstanding a situation, the person is having a bad day, he\/she is reacting out of hurt, etc. It\u2019s a faith that encourages kindness and justice and action when you see you something wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It helps me be better person, and that, itself, makes me stronger and more willing to interact with those different from me, or in situations unfamiliar to me. And to do so in a humane and intentional way. It also, literally, has opened the world to me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Muslim community in the United States is incredibly diverse \u2013 it\u2019s a community dominated by immigrants. I therefore have constant interactions with Hispanic Muslims, African Muslims, Asian Muslims and European Muslims.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This constant mixing of cultures and languages means you literally have the whole world at your fingertips. That is a blessing and it\u2019s a constant opportunity for education and knowledge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Given the current situation, many people are trying to take a hard look at themselves, reassessing their strengths and weaknesses, particularly in regards to race. And while I personally find political articles educational and helpful, many people only respond, or listen to, stories of a personal nature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I\u2019m going to be brutally honest about myself here. Specifically as it relates to my own personal path of understanding race in America.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Most of my friends and colleagues know that I once wore hijab, the Islamic head covering, for many years after I converted to Islam. It was a personal choice, and one I believed in deeply. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I made the decision, I made it in a state of innocence and naivety. I did not know it yet, but I would be completely unprepared for what I was about to experience. I saw hijab as a form of modesty, and a commitment to my faith. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
What I did not see, not truly, was how the world would see me wearing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After three years of wearing hijab, I made the decision to take it off. It was a very difficult decision, and I had many conflicting feelings about it. At the time, my reasons for no longer wearing the hijab were all largely practical. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
People who meet me now often ask me why I took it off. And I\u2019m able to dodge the question by giving a simple one: it was the time of 9\/11 and wearing it was a safety risk. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the real question, if you want an honest answer, is why do I choose to continue to not wear hijab? Because that entails a radically different answer. And that answer is tied up in race and, yes, privilege.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I started wearing hijab, I instantly lost my \u201cwhiteness\u201d and all of the benefits it afforded. Okay, not benefits but privileges. A word I know that makes many white people uncomfortable. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lost the kindness that white women tend to naturally give other women. I lost the kindness of clerks and workers and most people just generally living their lives out in public. I lost the ability to be judged based on my actions, my character and my intelligence when interviewing for jobs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In fact, I lost my English language, because somehow when people see a woman in hijab, they so deeply believe it must be a foreigner that they no longer hear perfect fluent English. I lost all of the benefits that my hard-earned Georgetown education afforded me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I could spend all day listing everything that I lost when I lost my whiteness, but the most important thing I lost was the safety that comes with it. I had previously always been left alone, when in public, to go about my day. People left me in peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No longer. I was accosted verbally. Physically. In my car, in stores, on the street. Life became a series of threats and efforts by me to diffuse them. It was physically and mentally exhausting. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It, day by day, chipped down my confidence, my belief in myself and my appreciation for my own value as a human being. I lost my belief in America and the American people. I lost my belief that people could be kind and good. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My primary concern became, always: where would I be safe?<\/p>\n\n\n\nBy learning about other cultures and peoples, we can help fight racism.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\nSo why I didn\u2019t I put my hijab back on? Why don\u2019t I today? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not giving myself any quarter, the brutal truth is I do not want to lose my whiteness again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t want to lose the privileges that come with it. I now KNOW the costs of not being white. Deeply, in my marrow. It\u2019s one thing to take on a new identity without understanding the consequences. But I know them now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am not proud of the fact that I still believe in hijab and yet choose not to wear it. I am ashamed that I give more weight to my fear of people, specifically of American men and women, than I\u2019m giving to my deeply held religious beliefs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, twenty years later, I am the mother of three black boys. Two of them over 18 and over 6 feet tall. I thought wearing hijab taught me a lot about racism in America. And it did. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was necessary for me to experience racism in person, in my face, to truly understand the cost it imposes on the human psyche. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s necessary to look into someone\u2019s face and see pure, adulterated hate to really understand how it feels it to have it directed at you. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Having black children, though, has opened up a new avenue for me to better understand racism in America. It\u2019s now a constant reminder that, despite being white, I can no longer avoid the costs of blackness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This includes racial taunts against my children on playgrounds. Actual physical assaults on my children by people who fill up, somehow, with rage, just seeing them. We\u2019ve had incidents at school, and on the bus, innumerable chats of n****r. Each damaging to my children. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m not even going to touch on my experiences having been married to a black man for more than 20 years. That\u2019s another story for another day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am always aware that, as a white woman, I have the option to temporarily step away from it all. I can walk through small towns without the snickering, the whispers and the hostile stares. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I can drive my car over the speed limit, or change lanes without signally, without being scared for my life. I can, yes, enjoy smiles and kindness from complete strangers in the grocery store and in restaurants and other public places.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I can, in other words, take a break from the reality of racism when I so choose. I can breathe deeply, regaining the strength necessary for when I\u2019m with my kids, or my husband, and, again, another racist incident takes place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is not something afforded to people of colour. There is no taking their colour off as I did a piece of clothing. Or stepping away from my children. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Addressing racism, and racist incidents, often occurs daily, weekly, monthly. The exhaustion mounts and the stress results in physical consequences. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The walls slowly, over time, come up. Because the truth is: when you look at a white person, you don\u2019t know what you\u2019re dealing with. Will it be kindness, neutrality, or, on occasion, actual acts of violence? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you went into a space and knew you\u2019d be accosted one time in ten, would you then continue to go to that same place? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yes, it means that nine times in ten you\u2019ll be okay. The majority of the time. But that one time in ten is still high, and dangerous. <\/p>\n\n\n\nBlack Muslims account for 1 in 5 Muslims in the USA (Pew Research Centre, 2019).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\nSo, do you instead make an effort to protect yourself by making other decisions when possible? Would it be natural to build up mental walls as a shield? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because the truth is: you can\u2019t avoid that place. Because that place is your city, your workplace, your country. Now imagine this is also your children\u2019s reality too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Can you imagine the strength it takes to send your children out into the world every day knowing that that one in ten situation still applies? And you have absolutely no ability to protect your child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That this is the reality of their world, and they simply have to learn to adjust mentally and physically in a manner that allows them to stay sane. And still believe in their self-worth. That they need to continue to focus on school and homework. And then later on, as an adult, to go out into the world, to work every day, drive down streets, function successfully, always knowing danger lurks just on the edges.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is my personal experience with race. With my children all still at home, I use my white privilege, unapologetically, to protect them for as long as I can.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They can enter stores without being followed as long as they\u2019re with me. They can ride in my car, safer with a white driver than driving on their own. My youngest can have school conferences where any hints of racism will be immediately called out, in a way that might be perceived as \u201cthreatening\u201d if done by a black parent. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m quite aware that I can\u2019t keep them by my side forever however. That this small amount of privilege afforded to them by their proximity to me, and my whiteness, will end. And it is terrifying. It\u2019s a reality that black mothers and fathers deal with from the moment their children are born.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wish that everyone could share in the experience I had while wearing hijab. It was, truly, the ability to walk in another\u2019s shoes. In the shoes of someone who appeared, at least visually, to be radically different than me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Although, of course, me without hijab is still me, an American Muslim. But without that one piece of cloth I am, somehow, given the benefit of the doubt that I am \u201cjust like everyone else.\u201d Whatever that means. I\u2019m still me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I found my time wearing hijab traumatic. Not because wearing a piece of cloth on my head is difficult, or oppressive. But because of how others’ misperceptions and prejudice altered their view of me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It has left me with deep scars. But it also gave me a perspective and a learning experience that no amount of money could buy. It has also given me a new lens, if you will, through which to view the world. A more accurate lens. One that sees everyone\u2019s humanity much more clearly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is something that each person in our country needs. Because we\u2019d all be acting radically different with one another. We\u2019d be practicing a lot more kindness to strangers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thank you for your heartfelt, candid insights. I wish more people could walk in others’ shoes. Perhaps there would be more understanding in the world. I also wish we were neighbours. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Disclaimer<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe views expressed in this blog are solely the author\u2019s\/interviewees and do not necessarily reflect those of Voice of Salam. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/figure><\/div>\n\nThis post was originally published on Voice of Salam<\/a>. <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Roni Roseberg interviews American convert to Islam Kristin Dieng on wear hijab and her experiences of discrimination and identity.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":486,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3426,3427,1383,1331,1057,3428,784,631,3429],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16541"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/486"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16541"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16541\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":246947,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16541\/revisions\/246947"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16541"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16541"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16541"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}