Al Humduillah, I grew up and started speaking up for myself. As a child, I was sarcastic and passive-aggressive. As I talk to my younger brother about his middle school experience, I can’t help but sit back and reflect on my utterly different experience.
I don’t have too many fond memories of middle school. One memory sticking out is when I had a substitute teacher in music. It was an awkward adjustment period in my life. Wearing the hijab and a modest uniform did not help the situation either.
He was an older Black American man, really laid back, and most students loved him. He was leading a discussion about the music our parents play in the car. So everyone is participating and having fun, cracking jokes. I attempt to participate, but he cuts me off before I get a complete sentence. Informing me that I’m foreign and my people don’t listen to regular music.
I was too shy and quiet to speak up and say, “no, I’m black. I am just Muslim”. At that point, I remember feeling so embarrassed and not belonging anywhere. I desperately wanted to blend in and not always stick out as different. Now I realize how idiotic and toxic the statement indeed was.
Instead of embracing me and taking the opportunity to potentially learn about a new culture, he just shot me down because I didn’t appear “black enough .” The saddest part is he’s not the only person who’s made me feel that way. Even though I grew up in a black community, I still was made to feel like a minority amongst my own people.
The Misunderstood Afro-Muslimah 
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