We all need some understanding

After Paris attacks, people aren’t afraid of people; they’re afraid of what they think about people

Because I wear a hijab, I’m automatically the national spokeswoman for every Muslim in the country. It’s like there’s a stamp on my forehead that reads, “Complaints? Comments? Rage? Bring it all here.”

Last year, I was verbally attacked in the washroom at Union Station. A lady walked in, interrupted a light talk I was having with a mother and her baby, and started shouting, pointing to my hijab, to take my “s---” off. She said it was all my fault terrorism is coming to the West and that I train undercover.

Whoa, there. Terrorist? Me? I can’t even kill a spider. The only trainer I have is the one at GoodLife Fitness and the only thing I load is my Presto card.

I stood up for myself, which resulted in a loud, long back-and-forth. What struck me most was that people walked in and out, but no one said anything.

The woman I’d been having a heartwarming conversation with didn’t say anything. There was another Muslim woman present, not wearing a hijab, and even she didn’t say anything. She only came to me after I left the washroom.

She told me she was sorry I went through that. I thanked her, but couldn’t help but think, where were you back there?

Confidence isn’t foreign to me, but I found myself crying the entire trainride home. I couldn’t help but think I knew how to get out of this and stand up for myself. But what about others who face this and are unable to respond or hold it together? Why does anyone even have to go through that?

Born in Egypt, I’ve been in Canada since the first grade. This was the only shockingly discriminatory incident I’ve faced here. I know most people aren’t like this; it’s just the 1 per cent who feel like they need to vent their ignorance. The other 99 per cent are as friendly as Canadians and as curious as George — and curiosity is the first step toward a lessignorant society.

People aren’t afraid of people; they’re afraid of what they think about people. Instances such as the Peterborough, Ont., mosque burning or the Muslim woman who was attacked outside her children’s school in what police allege was a hate crime left me shocked, just as I was when I heard about the attacks on Paris, Beirut and every other city that doesn’t end up trending worldwide.

A friend asked me if I had apologized yet on my social media for the attacks. I’m sorry — what? One and a half billion Muslims shouldn’t feel like they need to “apologize” or condemn what happened in Paris, anymore than every white person shouldn’t feel the need to apologize for slavery.

Islam teaches that an unjust attack on one person is an attack on all humanity. So, yes. I stand in solidarity for justice and I send my prayers and condolences to all who were affected. But I do not apologize for what I haven’t done. I am not accountable for the actions of some crazy nut who claims to be a Muslim.

I don’t condemn an act of violence because someone thinks “my people” did it. I condemn an act of violence because I’m human.

So do I feel safe in Toronto? I do. This is home. But just because I feel safe doesn’t mean the thousands of Muslims here do; the issue is real. Some Muslims, and other visible minorities, face discrimination daily.

There’s a fine line between pity and understanding; no one wants to be pitied, but everyone hopes to be understood. Don’t give your pity; just try to understand.

So when I’m on the subway and you hear my alarm go off, don’t think it’s a bomb. It’s my alarm that I left on snooze, because, like you, I was dreading leaving my warm, cosy bed to face the monstrous -30 C weather. And yes, I see you staring — but I just think you love my outfit.