Sadly, in a post 9-11 world, flying while Arab (FWA) has become an issue. I use the term "Arab" loosely as it is really is anyone who's "brown" or has an Arabic or Muslim name.
When people see me, they aren't sure what I am. Some people think I'm just a white girl, others think I'm Latina; I've even gotten Greek or Italian. Rarely do people guess, on the first or even second try, my ethnic heritage.
I travel a lot. My family is spread out in different states and, of course, the "homeland." I also travel quite a bit for work. It is always the same look I get when I hand over my boarding pass accompanied by my ID - one of sheer surprise.
The TSA agent is sometimes smiling and sometimes straight-faced and bored looking, but when they see my name, it is always the same reaction. A cartoon-like double take. Then I always see them glance at my left hand to see if I'm wearing a wedding ring. As if the only way I could have the name in front of them is if I married into it!
They stare me down with elevator eyes, make all sorts of markings on my boarding pass, and tell me to "have a nice day." I would say I'm about 50/50 for the "random" screening. An extra body search. An extra search of my bags. Sometimes they even ask to see my ID again. As always, I conduct myself in a polite and peaceful manner and pretend to not mind these extra searches in the least. After all, I have time. It's not like I have a plane to catch or anything. =)
Last week though, something happened to me that has NEVER happened to me before. I actually travel with a pocket sized version of the Qur'an. I have had this Qur'an since 2000 and I have traveled with it - every flight I've ever taken in the past eight years - since then. I've been all over America, Canada, Central America, Africa, Asia, and the Middle East and never had much of an issue ... but not this day.
My bags are on the x-ray machine and I've been chosen for an extra body search. I'm moved over to the side, waiting for a "female assist." She pats me down and waves me on. I go to collect my bags and the x-ray tech asks me. "Do you have anything organic in your bag?"
What an odd question, I thought to myself.
"What do you mean, sir?" I said.
He answered, "There is something about this size of an organic nature in your bag." He used his two hands to make a fairly small rectangular shape to demonstrate what he was looking at.
I thought about what was in that bag. "Perhaps, it is the power source for my laptop?" I said. That was the only thing I could think of that was that shape.
"Nope, it's organic," he repeated.
"I have no idea, sir." I said.
"Bag check," he called out.
A tall, skinny, lanky, white male came over. He had glasses and a full strawberry blonde beard. "Hello, ma'am ... I gotta take a look in here. Please bring the rest of your things and follow me."
"No problem, sir," I replied. I grabbed my other bag, put on my shoes, and followed him over to one of those little, silver metal tables.
He started digging in my bag. "Are you a Texan?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. "But, I don't live here anymore; though I am trying to get back here as fast as I can."
He smiled, "Yeah, I lived in a couple of other states, but there is nothing like Texas," he stated with pride. He was still digging around for the "organic" object. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for.
"Where did you grow up?" he continued to initiate small talk while trying to find the mysterious object in question.
"Dallas, " I answered.
"Ah, well, you seem to have done alright for yourself." He was starting to look concerned. "Are there any other pockets in this bag?"
"There are outer ones on each side," I answered.
He pulled out my pen and gum from one of them. "That's not it," he said. He began to look puzzled. Then he started in on the other pocket. He pulled out this small book. it was my Qur'an. "Ah ha!" he said as if he'd just struck gold! "This was probably it. Whatchya readin'?" he asked as he began to turn the book over to read the title. His eyes got so wide I was almost worried.
He looked me up and down and then began putting things back in my bag. The man who had been polite and cordial up until now just completely shut down. I gave him a half-hearted smile and said, "Don't see too many Texans with Qur'ans, do you?"
He simply shook his head no and continued to throw everything into the bag at a faster pace. He zipped it up, as if he couldn't wait to have me out of his sight and, without a word, he handed it back to me.
"Thank you, sir. Have a nice day," I said. But before I could get the entire sentence out, he had turned his back to me and started walking away.
What had I done to deserve that? I suppose, given his position and the environment he could have made things worse for me, but we were being kind to one another and then it was as if a wall was erected. Why the fear? He just searched my bag for God's sake! There was nothing in there that was dangerous. Nothing but a book! A few pages of paper instilled so much fear in this man. Why?
I love Texas. I love Texans. I love southern hospitality. I don't blame this man for his fear or even his hatred. As someone who lives between what feels like two worlds, I can see both perspectives. If I was bombarded with hateful propaganda every day and having it passed off as factual news stories and I had no other point of reference, who knows what I would think or how I would act. I'd like to think I'd react better and not judge but one cannot say, with certainty, until they find themselves in a situation.
What I don't understand is why we choose to be ignorant. It is a book. Even if you don't think it is the word of God, what would be so terrible if you READ it? It's just literature, right? At least then you'd see that the news lies. You could read verses in context (and hopefully properly translated) and draw your own conclusions versus having the "establishment" tell you how to think and feel.
Why does it seem easier to hate what we do not know or do not understand? Why is "ignorance bliss?" Do we really choose darkness over light?
GET EDUCATED. STOP THE HATE!
