Do We Fear Each Other?

This is a bit ironic I am editing this post from the Borgata….feeling a bit fuzzy. Is it the prolonged hours I spent on that Blackjack table? I’m not quite sure. I am up in my room waiting for a cheeseburger and decided to finish this up while I wait. It doesn’t feel the same. Nothing feels right anymore, everything is just … I don’t even have a word for it….(AC post)

The irony is this post being about the day I came back to my apartment after a long time being away with my mom. That and the fact I’m still not home now when I got to post it… feels weird…. Back to the post..

 I arrive to my apartment and drag my luggage across the hall dropping a piece every foot I walk across my loft. I open my fridge and I see Nada, Zilch not even a single bottle of water. My cleaning lady took it too serious when I asked her to clean up everything in my fridge. I mean at least leave me a couple of water bottles. I go in take a quick shower put on my capri/sweats with a 3 year old T-shirt and start looking for my car keys. 
 I get to the supermarket around 11pm and let me tell you… I wasn’t the craziest girl on earth. People actually do their grocery shopping this late at night. I wanted to grab a couple packs of Fiji and head out but I preferred to do it all at once, so I wouldn’t have to come back in a day or two. The best part was there were no kids running around. So, no one will sue me for running them over as I jump on the cart while it is speeding. I was minding my own business and reading the ingredients on a bottle of salad dressing, when I heard these loud voices coming from the next aisle over, it sounded like cats fighting, la la t3ale hina wain r7te la tro7een….it fades and comes back. Shit! I then realized it was Arabic ..I shrugged. I got as close as I could to the salad dressing  shelf and literally buried my face between the bottles. I eased my way out as the sound faded  further away. Only to see them again shaking hands and kissing another Saudi couple… Salim 3la 3amo ya baba… What? Why is their kid not in bed? I decide I won’t die if I don’t get cranberry juice and head to the soy section and get my lite plain silk soy milk. I phone my friend…she says now be a big girl and go get the juice. They don’t know who you are or what your name is. I told her: I don’t care! If I meet them at the hospital or school I would voluntarily introduce my self. I do not want to be seen else where! I hung up and ran as fast as I could and went to the self check-out which no other Arab would ever choose. 
 I get in my car, phone my friend and explain again what just happened and how I felt. She asks me do you know them? In fact I don’t know anyone at all nor at school/work. Outside, my policy is no dysfunctional families around me at this time in my life are necessary. They will suck me into their gatherings and/or try to make me feel bad about not being married and miserable like they are or that I will never have time to have kids. Even worse encourage me to wear hijab and marry Sami their single neighbor who is here to finish his Master’s Degree. Then we can all live miserably ever after. Brains asks me: Is it what you were wearing? Are you out of your mind? Of course not! I am out to get water not to impress. Were you wearing shorts? NO! Hmm don’t know then. Really? Seriously? That helped a lot. Then she said I think you just hate them seeing you not wearing hijab. So? What are you suggesting? I start wearing it? No,, just ignore them. You can pass for a non Saudi easily you just make things hard on your self for no reason. I start remembering similar situations… I shout and say I always hate seeing them even when I am dressed up and at my full glamor.. she then says: I think we already came to that conclusion and that what you were wearing was not the problem. I ask her remember that lady that asked me where I was from and the minute I said Saudi I regret it because the guy besides us was obviously Saudi as well. He then had the nerve to say Hala b2hl als3odeya klhum. Do not act as if it is OK to do that! How annoying! 
 On a separate occasion, I was walking down hells kitchen and there were a group of Saudi guys smoking outside a residential building, I was wearing my Fedora and so was one of the guys in that group. He than asks me : exchange? Knowing that he is Saudi without even thinking I reply aysh? He repeated with shock: Exchange? Which I got he meant trade? So I said: Nooo politely and went on walking on my way. I didn’t feel annoyed at all. Maybe because he was spontaneous, not cheesy and best of all didn’t talk to me intentionally only because he knew I am Saudi. On the contrary he was shocked when I replied in Arabic.

So….Do we fear each other? My friend Meesh who is with me on this trip. Says we fear each other big time! He continued on telling me what had happened to him in DC. The fact I had to change the bar/restaurant 6 times to have drinks with a friend every time his friend saw a Saudi he knew sitting on the bar or sipping his wine while enjoying his meal at a table in the far corner. Why do we fear them even when they are doing the same? Do we leave because they got there before us? To save ourselves and them the humiliation and frustration?
I suddenly remembered the Bushiah. The kinda Burqai that barely covers anything but is still a symbol that one is wearing it. The copper goldish one that grandmothers in the Khaleej wear. Is it a symbol that I do cover? Even if it really does not cover? hmm
So….Do We Fear Each Other?

Aren’t we in the Land of Freedom?  The Home of The Statue of Liberty?


~ by Purple Velvet on June 20, 2009.

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