I sat in front of the television, my heart heavy with anger. The anticipated announcement had finally arrived: the Muslim travel ban. Under the pretense of ensuring national security, the U.S. government had prohibited entry from a seemingly arbitrary list of countries, which were predominantly populated by Muslims. This decision would undoubtedly fan the flames of hatred that had long been simmering.
I understood the ramifications for innocent individuals and the unrelenting hate that would ensue, especially as it crossed borders into my home country of Canada. As I prepared for a confrontation against bigotry, I was unprepared for the specific tragedy ahead.
Just two days after the executive order was signed on January 29, 2017, a man entered a mosque in Quebec during evening prayers and opened fire, killing six worshippers: Mohamed Belkacemi, Ibrahima Barry, Mamadou Tanou Barry, Aboubaker Thabti, Abdelkrim Hassane, and Azzedine Soufiane. This heinous act was a grim reminder of the dangers of intolerance.
The atmosphere of fear had been exacerbated months earlier when Quebec enacted a ban on niqabs and burkas in public services, leaving many Muslims feeling unwelcome in their own communities. As I watched fellow Canadians smugly remark, “Thank goodness we live in Canada,” I realized that we were not immune to bigotry. The tragic loss of life at the mosque confirmed that racism and Islamophobia were very much alive in our society.
My initial outrage soon transformed into profound sorrow. I grieved for the families of the victims and for the Muslim community that felt increasingly isolated and vulnerable. It weighed on my heart to think of Muslim children who were terrified of their peers.
Determined to show support, I gathered a stack of cardstock and markers and took my son, then nine, into our bedroom. I shared the heartbreaking news about the Muslim community and asked how they must feel. Tears filled his eyes as he empathized with children who felt unsafe. Recognizing my biracial son could face prejudice one day, I wanted him to understand the importance of acceptance.
We began crafting cards filled with messages of love: “We are glad you are here,” “Canada is better because you are in it,” and “You are valued.” We mailed these cards to mosques throughout our city, hoping to counteract the prevailing hate, even if just a little.
Unfortunately, headlines continued to showcase the growing hostility. A young girl had her hijab torn off her head, igniting my anger once more. But this time, I resolved to create something tangible to show support. I designed a simple pattern for dolls wearing hijabs, using whatever fabric I could find, and made 25 of them. I left them anonymously on the doorstep of my friend, Sara, with a note asking her to distribute them.
What I didn’t expect was the impact of this small gesture. Sara’s post about finding the dolls quickly gained traction online, and soon, requests for the dolls poured in. Instead of distributing them immediately, she decided they would serve a greater purpose, which led to widespread media coverage.
As Sara’s initiative took off, I felt compelled to create more dolls—53 in total—adding to her mission. I shared my secret with her, asking her to keep my identity hidden. The dolls became symbols of kindness, reaching children who had faced discrimination and were used in schools to promote diversity. One teacher even started a journal where students could share their stories about the dolls, which they named Shazia.
Sara’s efforts didn’t stop there; she expanded the reach of the dolls to schools and daycares in Toronto and sent some to schools in Pakistan, where students made the dolls as part of their curriculum. After a year, she had a few dolls left, which she saved for moments when someone needed a gesture of kindness.
This journey taught me a crucial lesson about channeling anger into positive action. While rage can motivate us to fight against injustice, it is essential that we also embrace compassion and outreach. As I reflect on this experience, I recognize that hate may spread like wildfire, but kindness can rejuvenate and heal communities.
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Summary
The heartfelt story of an anonymous donation of hijabi dolls illustrates how small gestures can foster understanding and unity in the face of rising intolerance. Through kindness and outreach, we can counteract hate and create a more inclusive world.
Keyphrase: Anonymous Donation of Hijabi Dolls
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