“I’m also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say. And it is permitted to be said such things as, ‘Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim.’
Well, the correct answer is, he is not a Muslim; he’s a Christian. He’s always been a Christian.
But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer’s no, that’s not America. ”
–General Colin Powell (Ret.) at Meet the Press
This whole “Isn’t Obama a Muslim” issue has really started to upset me. And not upset in the sense of, “That-makes-me-so-mad,” but upset in the sense of ”if-I-hear-one-more-person-say-that-I’m-going- to- start-sobbing.”
That question really, really hurts my feelings. People are certainly entitled to their opinions. Still, to intimate that the status of Muslim precludes a person from being American enough to be President of the United States equates to the suggestion that I am not American enough, in general.
I believe that Sen. McCain isn’t a prejudiced man, but I do fault him for not addressing this issue in the “really right” way.
And just to be fair, I understand the need for political expediency, but Sen. Obama’s repeated focus on the fact that he’s Christian instead of saying something to the effect of “you would be better served by asking yourself why that is important to you” hurt my feelings, too.
A few weeks ago, I wrote the campaign an e-mail about it.
I got a form letter directing me to apage on his site which enumerated all the ways that he was Christian as well as the many ways in which he supported the American Jewish community. And that’s great, good for him and all the Christians and Jews in this country. But, really, all I wanted was one measly sentence that said, “Hey, back off, you narrow minded bigots, Americans can be Muslim, too.”
This whole thing made me feel victimized.
Yes, that’s a strong word. But, it’s in response to a strong accusation. When people assume that a Muslim president automatically translates to a president aligned with terrorists, they assume that Muslim Americans don’t take the responsibilities of American citizenship as strongly as others. I don’t presume that all Muslims in this country take their citizenship as seriously as myself, but I’m sure that the same can be said of any religious group in this country.
I have an argument that is well reasoned, in my opinion, regarding how my faith doesn’t at all preclude me from fulfilling every obligation incumbent upon American citizens.
But, you know what? Until I see Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Scientologists, or any other religious group having to defend their religious choices in the context of their obligations as American citizens, I don’t think I should have to share my defense with anyone else.
That said, I would like to end this post thanking General Colin Powell (Ret.) for his statements made on “Meet the Press.”
Thank you, General, for giving the “really right” answer.
Thank you for sticking up for me when no other politician would willingly do so. I know you don’t have an election to win, but it still made me feel better to see someone do the right thing.
Thank you for reminding everyone that I, the soldier who gave his life for his country, and that seven year old boy have a right to all of the privileges, honors and aspirations that any other American in this country does.
Watch this and admire how a real American stands up to injustice.
Most of the time, the hyphen is a generally useless symbol of punctuation. A few years ago, though, the hyphen made big news with those of us in the American citizenry who have a decidedly “ethnic” flair. I’m specifically referring to the debate of whether to include a hyphen in the phrases used to describe those of us who were born on U.S. soil, but don’t look like we were born here. For example, does one write “Arab American” or “Arab-American”?
The great debate centered on the appropriateness of whether to include this hyphen or not. Some people said that when you write “Arab-American” (hyphen included), you are implying that the status of “Arab,” because it is a descriptor, in the term “Arab-American” is somehow secondary or substandard to the “American” status.
Before you file this information in the “I Have No Idea Why This is Important” category of your brain, some feel that both of these identities (in this particular example, “Arab” and “American”) are equally important to their individual identity. In other words, one of them is not more important than the other, and the hyphenated expression somehow diminishes that point .
People (and by “people,” I mean individuals who read too many books and have too much time on their hands) got tired about making such a fuss over this teeny, tiny little punctuation mark and decided to do away with it all together. As a result, the correct and “modern” way to describe a citizen of the United States with Arab origins is “Arab American.” No hyphen.
I, personally, find this all very confusing. Since my parents came here from Pakistan in the 70s, and I was born here, I am a Pakistani American. But, their parents migrated from India almost seven years after the partition of India and Pakistan. So, I guess that makes me Indian Pakistani American. Oh, and I almost forgot, my parents were born before the partition of India and Pakistan, while India was under British rule, and were thus born as British subjects. Does that mean I am actually British Indian Pakistani American? And what about my daughter whose father is Indian? Is she British Indian Pakistani American Indian American?
Truth be told, I’ve never really accepted this label of “Pakistani American” with any real seriousness. (Oh, by the way, since I just used both “Pakistan” and “Arab” in this blog post, I just want to give a shout out to the Homeland Security intern who got saddled with the fruitless task of monitoring my blog for the next few months.)
Don’t get me wrong, when I was living under a fairly strict dress code or threatened with death if I even thought about dating a boy in high school, I was very aware of my status as a “Pakistani American.” And when I got married to an Indian, I became even more aware of it. And, I pretty much prefer to dress in Pakistani clothes and eat Pakistani food. Still, if I were about to die in five minutes and someone handed me an indestructible scrap of paper that would thousands of years later reveal the very core of my existence to future generations, I am certain the term “Pakistani American” would not be written on it.
I was forced, though, to examine this status of “Pakistani American” with a more keen eye when a friend, who happens to be an immigrant, turned to me and innocently said, “You know, when most Americans that don’t know you look at you, I don’t think they think of you as an American.”
I still gasp at the utter horror of the implication, given that I have resided every minute of my life in this country. I said the pledge of allegiance every day in elementary school, junior high and until we weren’t allowed to say it anymore because it wasn’t politically correct. I watch baseball and football (which is a different sport than soccer). Additionally, I vehemently deride the false athleticism of table tennis and badminton as well as the utter stodginess of cricket. I even shop at Wal-Mart from time to time, just to assert my God given right as an American to pay extra low prices for cheap crap I don’t need.
The truth is, though, that most Americans might not think I’m an American at first glance, but, then again, most Pakistanis might not think I’m very Pakistani after they get to know me. I figure that I have been asked “Where are you from, originally?” over 2,304 times. I just did the math on a Post-It, so I could be off by couple of hundred. Still, that’s a lot of times to have to assert you are an American and a Pakistani.
Let me just say this question does not, in any way, offend me. I’m proud of my heritage. I’m proud that the possibility exists that my difference might actually expand someone’s awareness regarding the amazing diversity of this country. I do have to admit, though, that this question and my friend’s comment do bring to light a topic that I personally am sick of talking about. Apparently, it still begs clarification, so let me clarify. Here’s where I am from, originally.
I come from the place where my authenticity is always questioned. When I’m with certain Americans, I’m not American enough. When I’m with certain Pakistanis, I’m not Pakistani enough. The truth is, I am more authentic than most people I know because every cultural, political and even linguistic choice I make is both conscious and deliberate. Most of the world just inherits its preferences from their superculture, but I am incredibly lucky because I was offered a variety of choices.
I come from the place where people call me names like “ABCD” (American Born Confused Desi) when, in reality, I know exactly who I am. Actually, the people who use that term are the ones who are confused by my superhuman ability to fit in and not fit in simultaneously all in a single bound.
I come from a place where my nationality is something that is written in my passport. This has no bearing on the clothes I choose to wear, whether I choose to eat spicy food or sweet potato casserole, or how and to whom I pray.
I come from the place where my compatriots are individuals with whom I identify politically and intellectually. I am thankful that I am among the few people blessed with the means to actually make those choices for myself.
In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m the new global citizen, originally from the 21st century.
Nationality is paperwork, culture is negotiable, affinities and alliances exist in the mind. Leave your hyphens at the door.
