Well, if you really must know, my name is Moeina, and I have a passionate hatred for Arabs. I guess you might say that it's quite ironic considering I am half Lebanese, but as a child, that key word was my problem. I was half. If I ever look back at my childhood, my home life was great, I had a loving family. My mother cared For all her children, my dad came home at 6:30 everyday from work and despite being tired he still played with us and loved all four of his children equally. Then I look at my school life as a child and to be quite honest, I'm surprised why I'm here today. I was always enrolled every other year into an Arabic school because my parents wanted me to stay in the environment of fellow Muslims and Arabs. The thing is, my mother is a convert, she was born an typical American girl of the Catholic religion, then met my father and converted to Islam. Our community wasn't very accepting of it. My siblings and I were the creations of two very different cultures. When enrolled into schools, my siblings and I were always the odd balls. We were never accepted, We were "the half breeds". That title was bestowed upon me from grade one and it quickly roamed the halls and spread like wildfire in our community amongst the children. It was grade four when things got really out of hand and escalated so quickly.
There was a boy, his name will be forever embedded in the cubic centimeters of my skull to the day I die. It was because of this kid I hated going to school, I hated my culture, but most of all I hated the race I was apart of. In class, it was like a circus, he was known as the "class clown" to the teacher, but in my reality,he was the ring leader, the students were his acts, and me? Well, I was "bearded lady" so to speak. The weird one,the one no one loved, no one liked. If a teacher saw me being bullied by him or his friends they would do nothing but watch because the little bastard's father was the head of the school. One day in our class we were having presentations. As any child would be I was nervous, I was ready to have a panic attack. So to calm myself down I bit my thumb nail no harm done, until the little piece of shit opened his mouth and gave such a loud cry "Oh my god look at her she's disgusting!". The kid sitting next to me complained to the teacher that he didn't want to be sitting next to a "thumb sucker". I defended myself stating that I was just biting my nail because I was nervous, when another yell from across the room echoed "You're so retarded, no one will ever understand you. You're disgusting". The teacher, did nothing.
I have a small birth mark right above my lip, my mother told me that it was my natural beauty and that most girls would put make-up on just to have something similar to what I have naturally. I was so happy and I felt so special. That day I went to my teacher and had a sort of show-and-tell with her, telling her everything that my mother had told me. I felt pretty, I was happy. Sadly the bastard walked in as soon as the bell had rung heard what I was talking about. Waited for the whole class to come in and then walked around the class room when the teacher had left the room, stopped in front of my desk and told me that the "thing" on my face was ugly, and it just added to the "useless thing" that I am and that I had no purpose. The whole class laughed, I was weak I cried in class, the children laughed more at my pain. The teacher walked in and instead of comforting me, she took me by my arm and pulled me to a washroom told me to wash off my face and to come to class once I "turned off the water works".
I used to play at recess inside the school by myself, because outside was a battle field. If my own home room teacher wouldn't even help me when I'm in distress how could a teacher supervising outside help me? There was a certain recess in particular that I will never EVER forget. My sister and I are best friends. If I'm in need of help, she's there for me, as am I for her. One day I was kicked out of the school and I had to go outside and play. My only best friend was my shadow, I had no one. The son of a bitch saw me sitting by myself and brought his friends along and ganged up on me, telling me that I am not even Arab. I shouldn't even be at their school. That I was useless and had no purpose. My sister who is a year younger than me saw what was happening and wasn't going to deal with it. She walked right up to him, at least two centimeters away from his face and my sister told him to leave me alone. Me being the scared little girl I was tried to pull my sister away from him. I was scared he was going to hurt her. She turned around to hug me and comfort me. He kicked her. Right in the back. The little shit kicked her, and I was so scared of what was to happen next that I didn't even do anything about it. He walked away, I didn't even stop him.
I am now seventeen years old, engaged and life is better than ever, but the memories of my past will be the thing that will haunt me forever. Why is it that because of him, I have to wake up every morning dreading the for what will happen. The Arab population at Massey is so massive I am terrified to even show up to school. Why is it that when my fiance compliments me and says " I was looking for the moon but it was to jealous to come out last night because of your beauty" I think he is lying to me, due to the fact that I feel, think and know for a fact that I am the ugliest person on Earth. Why is it that I have to be afraid to have children because I don't want them to have to suffer what I did. To have to be exposed to this vile thing we call a culture. This vile thing that I call, MY culture. I hate it. I hate it so much! This repulsive cycle will always play back in my head. Like an annoying stain in a shirt that you will never be able to get out, no matter how hard you try. Embedded in my brain. My mother asked me that if Baqir ever approached me and sincerely apologized and asked me to forgive him, would I? I had to be honest to my mom,I told her that if he were to die tomorrow, I really wouldn't care. So if he were to come up to me and ask for forgiveness, I would honestly punch him in the face and tell him thank you for making me into the person I am today. I really would. If I ever get such an amazing opportunity, I won't let it slip.