A Year Outside of the Classroom: Chapter 9- Reminder

Everything happens for a reason.

That's what I try to remind myself as the world around me seems to be spinning of its axis, tragically transforming people's lives in ways they had not, could not, imagine. 

I've felt an ache in my chest with every new administrative decision our new government has made, a nauseating sensation I haven't been able to shake away regardless of what I do.

Twenty-one years ago, my parents left the country they knew, the language they were comfortable in, the families who held their hearts, and embarked on a new journey in the United States, the land of the free. They left a beautiful homeland decorated in olive and fig trees. They left the comfort of a home they knew to walk around in with their eyes closed and embraced life in an unfamiliar country, where they aspired to DREAM. 

I learned the definition of dreaming in this country. From the simple question of "What do you want to be when you grow up?" to the saying "Go after your dreams no matter what," chasing a dream became a part of my daily routine. That was when I believed the world was in black and white. You either chase your dreams and accomplish them or you simply quit and leave it blow away in the wind behind you.

What I hadn't been taught was the obstacles, the road blocks, the small moments I'd forget my dream on the road beside me and become preoccupied with the "struggles." The only obstacles I believed in were the physical ones, the ones such as the checkpoints and occupation, the occupiers who reminded me my identity would not be one that was nationally recognized. That did not mean I could not form my identity either way.

However, these obstacles we have faced over the past decade and a half, the ones that have intensified over the past few months, are ones I was never taught to expect. They told me to dream, right? Well, I never thought dreaming of calling myself "Dr. Mohammad" would be something I'd be nervous about. I was not prepared when someone called me a "thing in the corner" while I was assisting with their medical care. I didn't expect to email my professor regarding whether or not the hijab should be something to mention to medical schools before they see me. I never thought I'd feel subconscious about speaking Arabic on the phone with my mom in a public place. 

Many people have more stories to share than these, more experiences that have affected their life in this country. But I want to highlight what I've been given thanks to my life in this country. 

I have learned to dream. You wouldn't think that would be a big deal, but living in an occupied country provided little space for that. 

I've solidified my belief in people and unity. I believe that our communication will make us better friends and allies. I believe that someone out there knows that I've got their back just as they've got mine. 

I've learned that my story is like the story of many living in this country seeking opportunities they could not find somewhere else. 

I've had the privilege to call two places home on opposite parts of the globe.

I have learned to ignore the voices of those who do not believe in my potential, my power, my abilities. 

There might have been an executive order signed to quiet down the voices that have long been celebrated in this country, but as usual, people have united to celebrate them. We have united to celebrate and advocate for each other.

Yesterday, while I translated for an immigrant Palestinian patient, I remembered how privileged we were to gain these experiences of dialogue. We are in a country where most of our lives are intertwined with others, where we have constant reminders of the importance of learning from one another to better understand each other. Language is a beautiful foundation for friendship, so should we not learn the significance of dialogue just as much as we understand communication?

Everything happens for a reason. And I can tell you that I haven't been as emotional as I have been over these past few days, hearing stories of those negatively impacted by these decisions, and over my owns fears. But mostly, I've cried over the images of those united to defend the people they do not know, the people who are their neighbors, their friends, their friends' parents. I haven't seen such force and energy in ages. 

Perhaps we needed something to push us to show each other our love. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps we needed a reminder that at the end of the day many of us have been dreaming the same dream. Perhaps this is finally the time to share it.