A Tunisian Girl

Yang Hengjun, a Sydney-based pro-democracy blogger who writes about Chinese politics. He disappeared Sunday after reporting that he was being followed by three people at the airport in Guangzhou (http://on.wsj.com/f4h7rT). (via luuhow)

there are three ways that individuals who are oppressed can deal with their oppression. one of them is to rise up against their oppressors with physical violence and corroding hatred. but oh this isn’t the way. violence creates many more social problems than it solves. another way is to acquiesce and to give in, to resign yourself to the oppression. but that too isn’t the way, because non-cooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good.

but there is another way. and that is to organize mass non violent resistance based on the principle of love. where there is something about hate that tears down and is destructive, there is something about love that builds up and is creative. love is the only creative, redemptive, transforming power in the universe.

when you rise to the level of love, of its great beauty and power, you seek only to defeat evil systems. individuals who happen to be caught up in that system, you love, but you seek to defeat the system. you just keep loving people, even though they’re mistreating you. just keep being friendly to that person. i’m foolish enough to believe that through the power of this love, somewhere men of the most recalcitrant bent will be transformed.

― Pittacus Lore (via psych-quotes)

I went to the mall, and a little girl called me a terrorist. 

My name is Ela.  I am seventeen years old.  I am not Muslim, but my friend told me about her friend being discriminated against for wearing a hijab.  So I decided to see the discrimination firsthand to get a better understanding of what Muslim women go through. 

My friend and I pinned scarves around our heads, and then we went to the mall.  Normally, vendors try to get us to buy things and ask us to sample a snack.  Clerks usually ask us if we need help, tell us about sales, and smile at us.  Not today.  People, including vendors, clerks, and other shoppers, wouldn’t look at us.  They didn’t talk to us.  They acted like we didn’t exist.  They didn’t want to be caught staring at us, so they didn’t look at all. 

And then, in one store, a girl (who looked about four years old) asked her mom if my friend and I were terrorists.  She wasn’t trying to be mean or anything.  I don’t even think she could have grasped the idea of prejudice.  However, her mother’s response is one I can never forgive or forget.  The mother hushed her child, glared at me, and then took her daughter by the hand and led her out of the store. 

All that because I put a scarf on my head.  Just like that, a mother taught her little girl that being Muslim was evil.  It didn’t matter that I was a nice person.  All that mattered was that I looked different.  That little girl may grow up and teach her children the same thing. 

This experiment gave me a huge wakeup call.  It lasted for only a few hours, so I can’t even begin to imagine how much prejudice Muslim girls go through every day.  It reminded me of something that many people know but rarely remember: the women in hijabs are people, just like all those women out there who aren’t Muslim. 

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