The Enlightening Experience

Standing amid a huge, roaring crowd, I feel my velvet, bright pink hijab, or head scarf, envelop me in its warmth. The voice of Chris Martin, from my favorite band Coldplay, is vibrating in my ears as he sings the uplifting lyrics of my most inspirational song “Viva la Vida” meaning Live your life. I scan the exuberant, heterogeneous crowd around me, and feel a sudden rush of happiness within me, a happiness born from the fact that I am in Manhattan, NY, enjoying a concert among people from all over this vast globe. I’m fascinated at how music has the power to unite people; regardless of where we come from, what beliefs or ideologies we hold, the beat of the music is the rhythm we are all intoned by. But my happiness abruptly diminishes as I hear some one behind me yell, “TERRORIST!”
Upon hearing this, I froze. My thoughts jumbled, my smile faded, I felt suffocated in my hijab. Chris Martin’s voice was now just a blur in the background. The only thought that was swimming through my mind was, “Does everyone here think I’m a terrorist?”
At that moment, I could have turned around. I could have yelled back, I could have expressed intense rancor in response to that disgusting, ignorant comment. But that would have been a complete contradiction to how I felt because I wasn’t feeling any thread of anger within me. I wasn’t angry at the comment, nor was I surprised. I was simply, confused. And hurt. Hurt at the fact that a piece of cloth on my head, which is supposed to serve as a symbol of peace and purity, may arise fear in some one else.
So, I did nothing. I didn’t turn around, nor did I say anything. In fact, it was at this very moment, amid the upbeat instrumental music from “Viva la Vida“, the blaring crowd and that person, who had in a matter of three seconds burst my comfort zone that an epiphany dawned on me.
I had so many times before read about the woman whose hijab had been snatched off her head or the woman who had rocks thrown at her somewhere in Britain. I had also discerned, a long time ago, from which these nasty stereotypes, sullying my way of life stemmed. In this post 9/11 world, I have become accustomed to reading those bloody headlines about the latest suicide attack that blow up buildings, trucks and human bodies in a matter of seconds. But before, these were all just words. Since I myself had never had felt any specific connection to those headlines, none of it held much intrinsic meaning for me. I walked around ignorantly and mindlessly living inside my own little world, unaware of the turmoil embroiling across the globe in Afghanistan or Iraq.
From that moment, I began to realize that I have a strong desire, a deep passion to help strengthen the strained relationships between the East and West. Being there in NY that day and realizing that the person’s anger was directly at me woke me up in so many ways. Now when I pick up the Washington Post and see the sanguineous picture of the little dead boy coming out of the ashes of the rubble that yet another suicide attack left behind in Iraq, I feel empowered to educate myself so I can one day help these people.
I can either do two things: Live my life as Chris Martin calls the world to do and help make change or shut the world and walk blindly and ignorantly on Earth while some ignorant fanatic across the globe blows another bomb in the name of my religion.