I kindly request that you refrain from asking my children about their origins. My son, named Amir, cannot speak Arabic fluently. He was born in Australia, even if I was not. He can recite passages from the Quran, yet he also knows all the lyrics to popular songs like “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae)” by Silento. He embodies a blend of cultures, and I take immense pride in that. I do not want to label my children, nor do I want society to pigeonhole them.
Frequently, well-intentioned strangers pose the question, “Where are you from?” I hesitate to label them as anything but “well-meaning,” but I find myself growing increasingly frustrated. You might wonder, what’s wrong with such a simple inquiry? The issue lies in the fact that no matter how he responds, it never seems to satisfy.
If Amir answers “Australia,” he often receives incredulous looks, likely due to my hijab and his olive complexion. If he states “Lebanon” (the country of my birth, which we have never visited), he faces the follow-up question, “So when did you come to Australia?” His response is invariably “I was born here,” and thus begins a cycle of uncomfortable, invasive questions.
Please, just stop.
Recently, I experienced an especially awkward interaction at my children’s Athletics Day. A woman I had never met approached me and asked, “Are you Lily’s mom?” To which I replied, “Yes, I’m Maysaa. Nice to meet you.” She then continued, “But you wear a hijab! And Lily speaks English so well.” I was momentarily speechless.
Why does my daughter’s identity hinge on my choice of attire? It baffles me that, even in an era as progressive as 2015, our initial judgments are often based on appearances. Every individual has a unique story, some more complex than others, but all are deserving of respect. My children’s narrative is intricate, and I don’t want to burden Amir with an explanation that sounds like this: “I’m from Australia; I was born here, as was my father. My mother wasn’t born here, but she came when she was three, so it’s almost the same. Would you like to see our citizenship papers? Also, thanks for the compliment on my English and grammar—being Muslim doesn’t inhibit my language skills.”
In contrast, Amir’s friend Liam, who hails from Ireland and moved to Australia eight years ago, rarely faces these questions. Liam’s heritage and name align more closely with what is perceived as “normal” in Australia, which creates an unfair distinction for Amir. One day, he will recognize this disparity, and I will struggle to provide logical explanations.
For now, I will continue to teach my children about the intricate narratives that make up humanity. I will emphasize that they are valuable based on their actions. They belong to a larger community—Team Humanity.
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In summary, let us move beyond simplistic questions about origins and embrace the rich tapestry of each individual’s story. By fostering understanding and respect, we can create a more inclusive world for everyone.
Keyphrase: “Children’s identity and origins”
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