The Naïve Optimism Of The Arab-American

There is this recurring theme at MissMuslim that we continuously bring attention to regarding the specific identities we’re representing while also being relatable to those who don’t fall into these categories. We’re a very diverse and eclectic group within and outside of this niche, but we are obviously not solely confined to the Western-Muslim identity. Our individual experiences are what push us to open dialogue about issues we may have not been aware of, while also educating others to further understand who we are, what makes us different and yet still the same…

Sometimes, it takes removing yourself entirely from everything you know, everything that is familiar, and everything that you love, to see the world from an entirely different perspective. It’s important to emphasize the influence that environment plays in the general development of one’s personality, ideologies, opinions, and overall approach to life. Most of us who are first-generation and Western-raised have developed a very particular identity that comes with a boatload of preferences and beliefs that an outsider will probably never fully understand. While this may have triggered some back and forth identity crises in our adolescent and teenage years, I hope that as we’ve grown well into adulthood that we’ve learned to proudly wear the badge of Westernized Arabism. To put this into a more specific context, I’ll expand on what it means to be Arab-American as I’m sure this can be mirrored for many other first generation children of immigrant parents growing up anywhere other than their homeland.

The tug of war we’ve ALL dealt with almost our entire lives by not being able to 100% identify with one culture over the other has thus allowed us to create our very own unique sub-culture. I don’t think I was ever fully aware of the capacity of what this meant until I moved to a Middle Eastern country. The UAE, and specifically Dubai, is a massive melting pot in its own right. The city is almost entirely comprised of professional expats from all over the world. Everyone comes from somewhere else, many from other Middle Eastern countries, many from The United Kingdom and other parts of Europe, Australia, Canada, India, Pakistan, other parts of Asia, and so on. Because of this diversity, I became much more self-aware of who I am as both a Palestinian and an American. It made me realize the depth of how political and distinct our mere existence is.

I always thought that there was this mild inner resentment towards any of us who were born into Western privileges because there is an assumption that we’ve completely neglected our roots and have no interest or care for our homeland and what life is like for those who still live in these places. The impression I understood was that we were basically born into the land of endless opportunity, far away from political turmoil, outdated cultural practices, poverty, inequality, and war and are simply reaping all the benefits of living in pure, blissful freedom, protected by perfectly groomed green grass and white picket fences.

I always thought that there was this mild inner resentment towards any of us who were born into Western privileges…

To my complete surprise, it took being embedded in an environment surrounded by Arabs with no Western influence for my outlook to change in more ways than I anticipated. First, it doesn’t mean that the inner resentment doesn’t exist. It does. It’s real and bluntly brought to my attention frequently. It’s not spiteful or intentional, but perhaps misconstrued on our part. Several individuals, specifically those who have never left the Middle East, cannot fathom how I left a place like New York City, one of the most fascinating cities in the world, even if they’ve never been there or only visited once or twice. They also unknowingly believe we exclusively follow and live by American customs. It’s not until I explain that most of us live among several, spread out, tight-knit Arab communities across the country that are super traditional that they begin to understand (after getting to know us personally, as well) why we’re “more Arab” than they expected. In fact, in many ways, we’re more Arab in a cultural sense than they are. I never realized how generally conservative and traditional our communities in the U.S. could be until I met Arabs living in Dubai who were utterly shocked by our 900(+) person Palestinian weddings for a couple in their early 20s who have never publicly dated prior to being engaged. I’m not kidding. It’s absurdity to them, and not because of the concept, but because we still adhere to this mentality as Americans. How have the metropolitan parts of the Middle East progressed further in their customs than we have in The States? 

There is an indisputable distinction between culture and religion, and it could explain why some conservatism can be partially contributed to religious beliefs. However, since we’re focusing on cultural practices, the evidence does indicate that we are generally “behind” in comparison to modernized Arabs living in the Middle East. While we’re still living within a community that believes coed friendships, getting a tattoo, and openly dating are considered wrong or taboo, many Arab residents across the  Middle East have progressed far beyond these principles. Even with limited resources due to citizenship and visa requirements, I have met Arabs that are more well-traveled, educated, and open-minded in comparison to some of us who have been living in the U.S. for decades and haven’t ventured past Orlando, Florida… by choice.

The reality of how different we are as Americans still holds positive attributes. From this standpoint, I think it’s imperative we hold on to certain formalities that are passed on from one generation to the next in order to proudly keep our heritage alive. It’s important to remain informed, involved in community affairs, and glorify all the components that make us who we are. It may be silly to those homegrown in the Middle East that, as Americans, we are obsessively nationalistic and attached to random habits and rituals, like our somewhat dated wedding formalities, our Arab Idol screening parties (no one in the UAE cares or watches the show), or our annual Arab American festivals held across the country, complete with song, dance, art, and shawarma. Unfortunately, even our fundraising efforts are dismissed because it makes us too idealistic about the future of the region. I’ve come to the disheartening realization that the same passion and sense of nationalism are just not as prominent for those who are strictly natives. I’m sure there are several factors that contribute to their aloofness. The reality is most countries across the region are or have been extremely unstable in recent years: socioeconomic conflict, faith-based division and segregation, civil contentions, limited influence in choosing government leaders and lawmakers, and, of course, endless war. Living day in and day out without this security is undoubtedly going to change one’s perspective and have them believe we’re completely naive for blindly commending our homeland. It’s not that we don’t face our own internal challenges as Americans, that’s evident. But to them, there is no comparison.

How have the metropolitan parts of the Middle East progressed further in their customs than we have in The States?

At first, I was instinctively defensive about how “we Americans” are actually not as naive as they think and maybe it’s this relentless optimism that’s going to help collectively unite us in the long-run. Eventually, I retreated, and it’s not because I don’t hold that outlook. I will never stop advocating for my people or stop teaching others about Palestine because it’s “pointless.” I’ve only been given a narrow window into the other side, and now understand that we both could learn from each others’ perspectives. 

On the one hand, as Americans, we need to progress past certain insignificant ideologies. A young female living outside of her parents’ home after college is not going to negate your Arabism. Higher education, encouraging career and independence, intermixing outside of our culture, and not conforming to nonsensical double standards is necessary to modernize our communities with the hopes that we will eventually diminish these dated aspects of our mentality. On the other hand, native Arabs in the region have slowly but surely learned to appreciate our naivety as Westerners. Without it, there is a possibility that the essence of who we are could eventually get lost amidst their jaded attitude and frustrations. Remaining prideful, maintaining practices – and teaching those practices to our children- and consistently spreading positive messages about our heritage are vital for our long-term stability, preservation, and growth, both within and outside the region.

Originally appeared on MissMuslim.