I was 8-years-old at the time of the Sept. 11 attacks in 2001. I was in third grade. Before I could even understand what was going on, kids at school began to put me into categories based on the turban I wore as a Sikh. They gave me labels that had nothing to do with who I was, calling me “Osama’s son,” “terrorist” or “al-Qaeda.”
These were the stereotypes that I grew up with. My parents’ generation experienced 9/11 very differently than I did, being more mature and confident in their identity.
Unlike my parents’ generation, a lot of my identity was forced upon me. My Sikh-American generation was raised in an age of fear. My parents’ generation worked within its limitations, adjusting their lives to this hatred around them. In more ways than I can articulate, I inherited hatred.
After 9/11, when I would walk by families, parents would hold their kids a little closer to protect them from the perceived “other.” I was simply too young – all of 8-years-old – to realize that there was a striking paradigm shift in how South Asian, Middle Eastern, and Arab minorities were going to be perceived in this country.
The attacks of 9/11 have and always will weigh on our collective consciousness.
They crushed America’s sense of self, its sense of security and power and it left us humbled, shocked and confused.
Flashbacks from the news of powerful images of men and women wiping tears off their faces come to mind, mourning the loss of fathers, wives, husbands and daughters. They were looking to the sky for answers from God, the same God that had just taken almost 3,000 lives. It just didn’t make any sense. Survivors looked to their religion and within themselves for some way to make sense of a senseless act.
I have grown up in an environment filled with constant reports of my Muslim, Sikh, South Asian and Arab brothers and sisters being targeted and murdered for their external appearance. There were more than 300 cases of violence and hatred toward Sikh-Americans just one month after 9/11, according to the Sikh Coalition. Balbir Singh Sodhi was the first of these individual tragedies that are part of a larger oppressive force we choose to ignore in America. Sodhi, a 49-year-old Sikh-American, was shot outside the gas station he owned.
Needless to say, it was not a good time to look different in America.
America’s melting pot was targeted. Some of us tried to hide our identities; others struggled and are continuing to struggle to raise awareness about the nuances of that very melting pot.
On Aug. 5, 2012, the Sikh American community was hit with yet another tragedy that clearly demonstrated that there are still individuals out there that operate out of fear and hatred.
Six individuals lost their lives because of this ignorance.
Six individuals who had come to their place of worship – the Gurdwara in Oak Creek, Wis.; six individuals whose community must relive their own kind of 9/11.
We should not have to endure such tragedies to realize the world we live in today is not okay. It is our responsibility as Americans to help sculpt a nation that we would want our children to live in.
We need to look beyond the external turban and beard, hijab and yarmulke, and see the underlying human in each and every individual.
We need to redefine the distantly elusive term “American dream” and foster an environment where that dream is tangible, where that dream has the potential to be our realm. The sooner we realize that no religion has ownership over any individual’s soul, the sooner we can conquer all notions of superiority and hatred and get rid of the shackles that restrict our freedoms, freedoms that we hold to be self-evident.
I should not have to endure the stares I receive every time I walk down Bruin Walk or stand in line for food in Ackerman. These unspoken and almost critical eyes pushed me into a state of pensive introspection, making me question my external identity and whether or not a turban and beard is even necessary to be an ambassador for my faith. Once these wandering looks and stares turn to questions and curiosity, we as the UCLA community can cultivate for ourselves an intellectual playground battling ignorance and hatred for our present and future generations.
Singh is a third-year global studies student and was formerly a Daily Bruin Arts & Entertainment contributor.
It’s completely baffling that even in a consistently top-ranked institution like ours, subconscious and conscious generalization is blatantly observed. The former I can still forgive–albeit reluctantly–as many of our assumptions are the products of not just our nature but of nurture, and I would be hypocritical in denying that the adults I grew up around were perfect social creatures. Still, the inability for so many to recognize these moments of ignorance within themselves and not actively subvert that in their minds before opening theirs mouths embarrasses me as a peer of so many people who still constantly perpetuate offensive, crass, and downright stupid attitudes while truly considering–nay believing–themselves to be worthy leaders of the future. Our generation hides behind the guise of ‘irony’ as a hip and humorous trope, without truly executing it with style and class. We rally behind comedians like Louis CK and Dave Chappelle, citing their social call to arms as a green light to make certain assertions or use certain words against a person or an entire people, then sticking their smug tongues out as if to wipe clean the blade with which they just penetrated the tenderest of spots in an “ethnic” person’s heart. Granted, that sounds militaristic (you have to forgive me I just walked the National Mall in DC today), but I guess what I’m trying to say is that the United States has a large percentage of its citizens who believe exactly what you spelled out in your article, but what’s more frustrating to me than a metaphorical cross on the lawn is that in our social realm, some of those that believe themselves to be our strongest advocates are often equally responsible in the perpetration of these acts, or at the very least the survival of these assumptions. Phew.
“We need to look beyond the external turban and beard, hijab and yarmulke, and see the underlying human in each and every individual.” AND YET the author was one of four who showed their anti-semetic attitudes toward Rachel Beyda. Shameful.
Short memory and short sight Manjot… #rachelbeyda
TL;DR version: You can’t blame me for Rachel Beyda, I’m so much more of a victim than she is!