An Egyptian woman, this Clovis writer has been on the ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ of acceptance

I remember in high school having a discussion with a classmate who didn’t believe that Egypt was located in Africa. “It’s in the Middle East,” she argued. This was a conversation between two young people with their understanding of geography and transcontinental regions. She wasn’t making a value judgment; she was stating something she believed to be true based on incomplete information.

After the Atlanta-area mass shooting that left eight people dead, six of Asian descent, there has, finally, been an increase in the coverage of anti-Asian attacks across the United States. The history of that prejudice, that violence, has been around much longer, and long before COVID-19.

A prejudice is a preconceived opinion. It is not based on reason; it does not parse specifics. Often, it’s not based on individual experience. The COVID-19 pandemic has been characterized, in part, by racist rhetoric toward China and Chinese people. Because that prejudice is not rooted in fact or detail, the resulting actions have been directed toward people with similar physical characteristics. Prejudice doesn’t care if you are Filipino, Japanese, Korean, Samoan or any “Asian” nationality. Prejudice only sees “other.”

Sadly, this is not the first time the Asian community has experienced the broad stroke of prejudice in America. They are also not the only ones. Arabs, Blacks, Jews, Muslims, Latinos, the list is seemingly endless. Chances are when you read these individual words your mind has a single picture to define a large, diverse group of people. It might be positive or negative, but it is a specific picture representing a diverse group.

I have lived in multiple countries, and have experienced the challenges of assimilation. My experience is not unusual. Like many, I can be an “insider” among various groups. When surrounded by those of the same background we may speak a different language or wear more traditional clothing, but when we are with our white friends, we don’t skip a beat. We have, in almost every way, become comfortable in all of these situations. We are on “the inside.”

Until something happens. A mass shooting. An overseas conflict. A pandemic. Then, all of a sudden like a switch has flipped, we are on the “the outside.”

As an Egyptian-American I can admit, and I know I’m not alone, that when I hear news of a mass shooting, I’m terrified that the assailant’s name will sound Arab or Muslim. The statistics show that the odds of that assailant being Arab or Muslim are low, but prejudice is not factual.

I know that any time there is an Arab-sounding name associated with something bad, anti-Arab and anti-Muslim sentiments increase. I also know that these negative sentiments will paint with a broad brush; since 9/11, the Sikh community has been targeted, despite not being Muslim, because they are mistaken for it. Prejudice spares no one.

I am a lot of things. I am Egyptian. I am an immigrant. I am an American. I am a mother and a wife. I am a source of strength for my family and friends. I am all of these things. I am more than these things. I have been on the “inside” and I have been on the “outside.” I want to tell the stories that all of that allows me to tell. I want to tell the stories that some of you might be all too familiar with, and some that you may never have considered because, the more we see each other’s struggles, and successes, the more likely it will be for us to move past prejudice to find real people.

This story was originally published May 8, 2021 at 5:00 AM.