In sixth grade, there was a boy in my class who told me to go back to my country. Everyday, I watched him mouth the word “terrorists” as he described the people of my pigment as danger. I asked Ma, what we had done wrong. When did our skin color and clothing yell that we had destroyed or caused violence when they have been drinking the blood of Native Americans ever since they got on this land. Barack Obama says, ”anytime bombs are used to target innocent civilians, it is an act of terror” and if this is true then my mind has been bombed multiple times. Leaving no shelter to seek refuge for thoughts that it was okay to wear a burqa or speak Arabic around your neighbors, for that is why we have freedom of speech. An act of terror, says each president, each media station. Then I want to know what we should call the drone strikes in Afghanistan or Yemen. You ask our children to sign up for the military when they turn eighteen. Uday Singh Tanque, the first U.S. Army soldier of Indian descent to die during Operation Iraqi Freedom. Killing whole villages of people who looked just like him. Innocent voices. Just like the innocent voices who were killed that day. My brothers who wore dastars, my sisters who wore hijabs, crowns to protect their heads. The same people you call terrorist are fighting your wars. Destroying their own homes to wear your red, white and blue stripes. We have silenced our lullabies so our languages seem more humane to you. This is for my Muslim, Sikh, Brown brothers and sisters, attacked because our prayers don’t sound like yours. Because no one understood that Akal Purakh and Allah are our term for God. The same God that you pledge allegiance to. This is for every kid who sits in history class fearing that when the topic of 9/11 comes up, they’ll be the target. The so called terrorist.
D . Kaur (via diariesofadesigirl)