Islamophoria and Identity.

Miqdam, the son of Rafia and Zabie, my Muslim host parents, is one of the most insistent boys I have ever met. He loves Cricket and his favorite subject in school is Math. During meal times he reaches for the remote where he can flick through a list of western television programs. I have to admit I see a little bit of my youthful self when I watch Miqdam. He has to finish all of his food and use manners just as I was told to by my parents.

I have thought, somewhat ignorantly, that I was impervious to the fear-mongering of Muslims by our American media. But when I first arrived at my homestay there was this inner tension instructing me to be wary–to feel that I, as a so-called westerner, was supposed to be unmoving in completely different lifestyle, value set, and history. Until I had my first conversations with Zabie, I puzzled over my predicament, feeling a little but angry with myself for being infected deep in the recesses of my mind by a sub-concious case of Islamophobia. I had a feeling that I was going to come under fire since I was from the West.

For all my qualms, the lifestyles and religous tenets I saw during my home stay were similar to the ones I know back home in America. To see such similarities in our identities was affirming to me and it helped me get rid of that nagging sense of fear. Amartya Sen’s themes kept popping into my head and, in some ways, I even saw myself using logic and rationale when controlling my own human identity. This is also important to the way we chose to see others. It’s a two-way street and I find that Zabie and family have given me plenty of reason to believe that we all can see humanity. It is recognizable to nearly everyone. We must be brave enough to look for it.