Today. On a crowded bus. On Michigan Avenue. On my way home from a great job in a city in a diverse country that I was born in.
A man screamed at me. Called me a sand ni**er. Told me I was the problem. That I need to get the fuck out of his country.
I may have been wearing my scarf higher on my head than usual because it was cold out. I may have somehow looked suspicious listening to Spotify. I am half Iranian, so maybe it was my skin or my eyes.
But 5 minutes of this at least went on with no one doing anything. Me telling him calmly to back off. Me telling him I would call the cops and me trying to get my gloves off to dial.
Then this man spits at me. A man in a suit and tie. Like anyone else I'd see. He spits at me and looks at me with these regular eyes now filled with anger and tells me to get the fuck off the bus, do what I'm told, because this isn't my country. This isn't my place.
That's when I screamed at the top of my lungs for him to back off. That's when people decided to maybe help and tell him to stop. That got the attention of the bus driver to kick him out.
I'm home now in my nice apartment in a nice part of Chicago with my fiancé and my cat. Sitting in a room looking out at the lights of other apartments. Wondering how many others out there got screamed at and told today this isn't their country, that they're worthless somehow, that they don't matter. How many?
My father was in the World Trade Center on 9/11 and survived. Days and weeks and years after that horrible day, I have been told somehow me or my mother's family are the cause, that we are evil and going to Hell. That Iranians, that Middle Eastern people, that Muslims are less than human.
I am a mixture like so many in this country today.
I was born in Boston, Massachusetts. It's one of the most patriotic cities in America. My ancestor Hugh Drury is buried in the oldest graveyard in Boston, and he helped contribute to the building blocks of what would become the United States of America.
And yes I'm also Iranian. My mother's family came here to seek incredible opportunities and they found them. They've become doctors and entrepreneurs and athletes and writers and singers.
I have family who are Muslim.
I have family who are Catholic.
I have family who enjoy laughing and talking and dancing and drinking till they're silly.
And I am American. and this is my country. I do belong here. My roots are planted here.
I'm here and I belong. I won't get off the bus.
A man screamed at me. Called me a sand ni**er. Told me I was the problem. That I need to get the fuck out of his country.
I may have been wearing my scarf higher on my head than usual because it was cold out. I may have somehow looked suspicious listening to Spotify. I am half Iranian, so maybe it was my skin or my eyes.
But 5 minutes of this at least went on with no one doing anything. Me telling him calmly to back off. Me telling him I would call the cops and me trying to get my gloves off to dial.
Then this man spits at me. A man in a suit and tie. Like anyone else I'd see. He spits at me and looks at me with these regular eyes now filled with anger and tells me to get the fuck off the bus, do what I'm told, because this isn't my country. This isn't my place.
That's when I screamed at the top of my lungs for him to back off. That's when people decided to maybe help and tell him to stop. That got the attention of the bus driver to kick him out.
I'm home now in my nice apartment in a nice part of Chicago with my fiancé and my cat. Sitting in a room looking out at the lights of other apartments. Wondering how many others out there got screamed at and told today this isn't their country, that they're worthless somehow, that they don't matter. How many?
My father was in the World Trade Center on 9/11 and survived. Days and weeks and years after that horrible day, I have been told somehow me or my mother's family are the cause, that we are evil and going to Hell. That Iranians, that Middle Eastern people, that Muslims are less than human.
I am a mixture like so many in this country today.
I was born in Boston, Massachusetts. It's one of the most patriotic cities in America. My ancestor Hugh Drury is buried in the oldest graveyard in Boston, and he helped contribute to the building blocks of what would become the United States of America.
And yes I'm also Iranian. My mother's family came here to seek incredible opportunities and they found them. They've become doctors and entrepreneurs and athletes and writers and singers.
I have family who are Muslim.
I have family who are Catholic.
I have family who enjoy laughing and talking and dancing and drinking till they're silly.
And I am American. and this is my country. I do belong here. My roots are planted here.
I'm here and I belong. I won't get off the bus.
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