Dear World, it’s time to stop asking my children where they originate from. My son’s name is Amir, but he doesn’t speak Arabic. He was born in Australia, a fact that seems to surprise many. He can recite the Quran but also knows every lyric to popular songs like “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae).” He embodies a rich tapestry of contradictions, and I take immense pride in that. I don’t want my children to be defined or boxed in by others.
Far too often, well-intentioned strangers approach Amir with the question, “Where are you from?” I label them as “well-intentioned” in an effort to stay positive, yet I often feel like banging my head against a wall in frustration. You might wonder, “What’s wrong with such a simple inquiry?” The issue is that no matter how he responds, it never seems to satisfy.
If he answers “Australia,” he’s met with raised eyebrows because of my hijab and his olive skin and dark hair. If he claims “Lebanon,” which is my birth country but one we’ve never visited, the follow-up question is invariably, “So when did you come to Australia?” His response, “I was born here,” only leads to a cycle of uncomfortable, probing questions. Just stop, please.
Recently, I had an awkward encounter at my children’s sports day. A woman I had never met approached me and asked, “Are you Mia’s mom?” I replied, “Yes, I’m Layla. And you are?” She responded, “But you wear a hijab! And Mia is so smart and speaks English so well.” I was taken aback and could only reply, “Yes, she’s exceptionally talented. She hasn’t caught hijabitis.” I left the conversation feeling bewildered.
Why should my daughter’s intelligence be linked to my choice of attire? It’s disheartening that, even in 2023, our first impressions are often based on appearance. Every individual has a unique story, some intricate and some simple, yet each deserves respect. My children’s narrative is nuanced, and I wish my son didn’t have to explain, “I am from Australia. I was born here, just like my dad. My mom came here when she was three, so she might as well have been born here too. By the way, would you like to see our citizenship papers? Oh, and thanks for noticing my excellent English skills—being Muslim doesn’t hinder my ability to communicate.”
Meanwhile, his friend Jack, who was born in Ireland, never faces such questions. His family moved to Australia eight years ago, yet he’s never asked about his origins. I suspect it’s because his name and appearance are perceived as “normal” in this country. This disparity is troubling, and one day, Amir will recognize this unfairness, leaving me without answers.
For now, I will continue to share the complexities of human narratives with my children. I’ll emphasize that life is a multidimensional journey and that they deserve respect for their actions. I’ll teach them they come from Earth and belong to Team Humanity.
If you’re interested in learning more about family dynamics, check out our post on at-home insemination kits, and for expert advice on infant care, visit this baby massage guide.
In summary, it’s time for society to move beyond simplistic questions that box my children into categories based on their appearance. We all have rich stories to tell, and every individual’s narrative deserves to be acknowledged and respected.