It was a cold, overcast Tuesday, and I was 8 years old. I remember getting ready to go to school. The school I went to was at the nearby mosque. For the most part, it was a typical elementary school; we said the pledge of allegiance, learned the same subjects: art, math, science. But we also learned Arabic and studied the Quran, which is why my parents sent me there, to further my knowledge about my religion.
On this Tuesday, however, third grade me didn’t know that life as I knew it would change forever. Because soon after my mother dropped me off at school, maybe an hour or so later, she came rushing back to find me and took me home. It was so unusual to see her panic like that. I knew something was wrong, but she wouldn’t say what had happened. She sped back to our apartment and I saw my father watching the TV, an expression of total shock on his face. And then I saw. The two towers engulfed in flames, voluminous plumes of black smoke emanating from the tops. At first, I couldn’t believe it, and I thought it was a movie. However, seeing the aghast expressions on my parents’ faces, along with the frenzied news anchors, quickly dispelled that notion.
Like my parents, I remember wondering why would anyone ever do that, and I felt helpless as I watched hundreds of New Yorkers running and screaming. I overheard my parents say “terrorists,” “hijack” and “extremists.” I saw my mother crying and saying she had to pick me up because she was afraid someone would bomb the mosque. Even as a third grader, I knew something absolutely horrible had happened; I was scared and I wanted to help the people who were hurt. I couldn’t have known, though, just how much 9/11 would impact our lives, just because we were Muslim.
From then onward, I’ve had to explain time and again that being Muslim does not equate to being a terrorist or extremist. People just couldn’t reconcile the fact that I, like them, was American but I was also Muslim simultaneously. And I was both. I loved apple pie, Fourth of July fireworks, baseball. I had a wide variety of friends. I was and still am extremely proud to be an American, because of everything we stand for. I also prayed, read the Quran, celebrated Eid and spoke Urdu and Arabic. My religion instilled in me strong morals and good character.
When you think of the word “terrorist,” what comes to mind? Someone holed up in a cave halfway across the world? Someone who looks a certain way, or speaks a certain language? That right there is the problem. Giving the word “terrorist” a face, ethnicity or religion, and incriminating an entire group for the senseless, evil actions of a few. The way American Muslims felt after 9/11 was akin to how Japanese-Americans probably felt after Pearl Harbor.
It’s interesting how fear and blame are intertwined. When you’re afraid, you lash out against what you don’t understand; fear of the unknown causes people to make erroneous judgments about others. I think if people made an effort to understand Islam better, they’ll see that the religion itself is beautiful and that those who commit terrorist, evil acts are far from Muslim, however much they claim to be. They aren’t Muslim in my eyes. There is a verse in the Quran that says, “If you kill one innocent person, it’s as if you’ve killed the whole of humanity, and if you save one person, it’s as if you saved the whole of humanity,” [Quran 5:32]. And killing is a major sin in Islam.
In the wake of the Boston Marathon tragedy, the perpetrators claim to be Muslim, and there will be ignorant people who will judge all Muslims by their standard. I and many others, Muslim and non Muslim, believe that the suspects should be punished for the crimes they committed; what they did was horrible and I don’t condone them. But I believe in this great, beautiful nation of mine, and know that we will rise above the hatred. More and more people I meet realize that it’s not right to paint everyone with the same brush, and are genuinely curious about Islam. Another one of my favorite verses is, “Verily, with hardship there is relief,” [Quran 94:6]. I feel that this verse describes America as a whole, the way we come together after tragedy, the way we feel joy in helping our fellow citizens to overcome anything life throws at us.