‘Meet a Muslim’ to begin to overcome stereotypes

They say the universe is ruled by the force of synchronicity, that whatever is meant to happen, happens at a certain point in time.

That’s why I feel that it’s no coincidence that I am here in San Jose, leading an organization that works to spread unity and fights against bias, violence and bigotry. In these troubled and troubling times, where the national dialogue seems focused on finding ways to discriminate based on differences, this work is more important than ever.

I was born in Pakistan, I am a Muslim woman, and I am no stranger to prejudice. Often asked where I’m from, answering San Jose doesn’t qualify: “...but where do you come from originally?”

I often wish I could say the name of a more exotic, less disliked country, because I don’t want to be judged as undesirable. It’s so hard to be proud of one’s heritage when that heritage is associated with terrorism.

Growing up in Pakistan — western-educated in a convent school, unlike the vast majority of Pakistanis at that time — wasn’t simple, or enjoyable. I felt I did not belong, and many of my countrymen let me know that loud and clear: I was harassed, belittled, and threatened with imprisonment for not following tradition.

And now, decades later and a naturalized American living in an area that prides itself on its embrace of diversity, my physical appearance and accent don’t allow me to fully qualify as an “everyday American.” Who I am is lost in the vortex between where I came from, who I feel like on the inside, and what people think of me based on what I look like. The accent doesn’t help either.

Regardless of heritage, being non-white has the connotation of ‘not one of us.’

Which begs the question, who are we, exactly?

I often say that women immigrants like myself are doomed to be homeless in emotional terms. It’s hard to explain how the green passport continues to haunt you, or rather taunt you, even after you are legally American, even after you stow it away with the rest of your past.

As they say, the past is another country; the problem is, you can destroy the green passport, but you cannot really change the pigmentation of your skin. And even in this day and age, and in this Silicon Valley of ours, we have not yet evolved enough to look at each other beyond skin tone: acceptance must be taught.

It would be easy to say just learn to love each other, that love can cure all, and that hate is toxic, but it isn’t easy to love that with which one is not familiar.

At Silicon Valley FACES, we teach the kids we serve to focus on finding similarities and shared experiences to build tolerance of others and to see beyond that which is outwardly obvious. But they, like many adults, always have many questions to be answered and preconceived notions to address before that appreciation can begin.

Acceptance begins with an honest dialogue. It’s the first place to begin to break down the barriers that disunite us, and the only way we’ll live up to our self-image of a community of unity. This week we are beginning a series of ‘Meet a Muslim’ community forums to help build multicultural acceptance. Come join us.