Paris, Muslims, and my Boy

A preteen boy rode up the escalator as Elias and I prepared to go down. The boy watched my son with raised eyebrows as Elias handed me his canes. I saw the boy smirk and, as usual, felt lucky that Elias didn't see the judgement on this boy's face. I looked back in time to catch him nudge his sister and point towards Elias. The older sister looked but caught my fierce brown eyes looking at her and quickly looked away. As for Elias, he focused on the moving steps before him, held onto both railings, and put his best foot forward.

Scenes like this happen all the time when out in public with a child who does not fit the norm. I try not to judge the smirkers, and if I'm honest, some days this is easier than others. My eyes can cut holes through someone who stares too long or laughs at my son's expense. 

I'm not one to say something in the moment, but there's times when I wish I was more confrontational. When I imagine calling strangers out on their stares. Other days I take the attention with ease, knowing people are just trying to make sense of a world that doesn't always fit into neat little boxes with perfectly tied bows.

Judgement. It's on my mind these days as people react to the events in Paris. I keep thinking that linking all Syrian refugees, or all Muslims, to terrorism is akin to linking all Americans to mass shooters. Just because I am born and raised in the United States does not mean I am likely to pull out a gun and mow down school children. The same is true for all the Syrian refugees and Muslims who will never be suicide bombers. Yet I hear this ignorant battlecry of judgement, fueled by fear and misinformation, and worry about where it will lead.

That boy gawked at my son because he is not accustomed to seeing children walk with canes. But what I find with kids is when they have quality time with children like mine, children who are different, they lose their fear of "otherness" and expand their worldview to include children with adaptive equipment, children with visual impairment, children with communication issues, children with motor challenges, children with incontinence, you name it, they accept it, given time.

I wish on the world level it was as simple as spending time with each other, breaking bread, playing ball, looking up at the stars that align with no religion, no country, no point of view, just lights in the darkness that allow us to see.

Its the same sun, after all, that warms our skin, regardless of its shade, with the power to make us squint, no matter our heritage, our title, our creed... 

...If only we woke one day to see ourselves in each other.

What then?

Comments

[Teresa]

Great post and so true. My heart breaks for these refugees trying to flee a life we cannot even imagine.

[Kristen H]

You draw a perfect analogy, Christy. My 14-yr-old daughter is doing a school project on discrimination, and she selected American Muslims for her topic. She contacted a local mosque and they were so responsive to her request for an interview. It happened to be scheduled this past weekend, and the horror and sadness the Muslims she interviewed felt about the Paris attacks was palpable. Also the fear they would be held responsible was heightened. The 90 minutes she spent with them was enlightening but she noted those who would benefit most from such an encounter were unlikely to sign up for it. So she is figuring out a way to present her findings in a way her classmates (mostly white privileged males) might relate to. The mass murder example you gave is one she is considering. I'll show her your post and let her know she's on the right track. Thanks for writing about this.

[Christy]

Kristen it sounds like you have an amazing daughter, tell her I support the work she's doing and wish I had opened myself up more to different groups when I was 14.

Thank you Christine and Teresa, I keep thinking about all the 1,000s of children who just want a safe place to play and sleep.