Illustration by Flavia Cereceda/The Gazelle
Being African American at NYUAD
The first time I read about the student protests at University of Missouri, also known as Mizzou, I was randomly scrolling through Facebook. My ...
Feb 28, 2016
The first time I read about the student protests at University of Missouri, also known as Mizzou, I was randomly scrolling through Facebook. My friends, who study in both Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU’s) and predominantly white schools, started sharing the hashtag #istandwithmizzou. They were showing their support and solidarity for the Black U.S. American students at Mizzou.
There was a sense of community then. I felt like every student in the United States knew something was wrong and voiced their discontent. I kept scrolling, looking for something I could not quite put my finger on. Then I realized what it was. I was waiting for an NYU Abu Dhabi student to post the hashtag. Had the American students on my campus not seen what was happening in Missouri? Surely they had. If I had, they had.
A slew of questions clashed in my head. Should I post the hashtag? What if I am the only one at NYUAD to do so? Will it matter?
These are my people, my fellow Black Americans, and they need support from everybody. I was frozen by my inability to understand my position away from home. I didn't post anything.
Back home, my fellow Black U.S. Americans needed all the support they could get. In Abu Dhabi I sat and stared at the pixels on my screen. Never had I felt the size of the 11,380 km. separating me from home like I did that day.
[blockquote_image image="https://cdn.thegazelle.org/gazelle/2016/02/981df45efdf7959028d93a17dbbb5fe0.jpg"] What does it mean to be a black American Muslim woman in a place where my ethnicity is difficult to guess and explain? How can I impact or assist the black American community back home while I'm thousands of miles away? How do I identify as a black American on and off-campus? [/blockquote_image]
Last November, after the terrorist attacks in Paris, I felt sick because I knew there would be repercussions for Muslims all over the world. It hit home when I checked in with a high school friend who attends Florida A&M University; he told me that their Muslim Student Association had not met for several days because there were death threats against the Muslim students. Every day, the news reminds me that I should be praying for my black American Muslim friends back home. Black American Muslims are threatened twofold: they are targeted both because of their skin color and their religion.
This is when standing up for your ethnicity matters the most. With three black American students among 700 students, stirring up a conversation about a protest that’s happening thousands of miles away seems daunting. That is why, when I want to talk about the injustices that affect black Americans, I talk about them with specific people who I know share a concentrated frustration. I know I can vent, and they will understand me.
Being an activist for my people back home is hard here. On a campus with people from all over the world, everyone and every issue matters. Occasionally, it’s not about the issues being brought up but the amount of bodies that bring them up. Racial problems akin to the ones I encounter in the United States are present in almost every society; regardless, I feel a certain resistance to discussing these issues on campus. Part of my reluctance stems from the fact that I know that no one wants to seem uneducated or biased in these discussions. These are rational concerns, but we must create a space where comfortable dialogue among ourselves can turn into action.
So what does it mean to identify as a black American at NYUAD? It is certainly entertaining. During my first semester, in order for some people to understand what I meant when I introduced myself as African/black American, I use helpful comparisons like Beyoncé or Barack Obama. I enjoy equating myself to these icons because I like it when people go, This is Ayah, and she’s like Beyoncé. I’m understood by association, because Beyoncé is awesome #formation. Oh, and there’s that thing about basketball. I absolutely love basketball but can’t play on the court. I’m athletic and enjoy sports, but I don’t shoot hoops all day. I actually play Ultimate Frisbee competitively.We must create a space where comfortable dialogue among ourselves can turn into action.
According to the greater population – not NYUAD – I am not American, which can become very demoralizing and disorienting. Random people I meet off-campus have told me straight to my face that I can’t possibly be American. How can I be American if I’m Muslim? I am not stereotypically white, and neither am I as obnoxious as some American tourists appear to be. I am educated, and I read books as big as my face and as thick as my arm for pleasure. Oh, and then there’s that thing where I’m bilingual – that really throws people off. And the fact that I have lived overseas for most of my life. I enjoy ethnic dishes in addition to soul food. Jeopardy question: What is an Ayah?
I wanted to bring up this idea of diversity because I don’t think we truly understand what it means in all of its nuances and complexities.How can we consider ourselves diverse when the U.S. American student population on campus doesn’t truly represent the demographics of the United States?
How can we consider ourselves diverse when the U.S. American student population on campus doesn’t truly represent the demographics of the United States? Has anyone else wondered about this or spoken up about it? We need to be able to talk about race, and diversity in all its manifestations.
We cannot save these discussions for the classroom; we need to have them at the dining hall or sprawled across beds, floors and couches at 2 a.m. NYUAD was created to solve the problems that the older generation have placed in our hands. Let’s not ignore them.
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