Personal Narrative: My Culture In The Middle East

She looks down at her feet, shuffling along the plastic tile of the school hallways. Her first day of school in a foreign city to her falls on a hot summer day, but still her body is covered in layers. She keeps to herself, not exposed or in the lime light of the student population, but they continue to stare at her. In a small town in the Midwest, her hijab is gazed upon with looks of wonder and preconceived ignorance. This Middle Eastern woman and many men and women of this descent experience prejudice especially in small cities. Watching Muslims and people from Mideast culture being singled out has taught me at a young age to be quiet about my Lebanese roots. But when I embraced my culture I became proud of who I was and started to advocate

for Middle Eastern people and other minorities.
Having been adopted at the young age of two, I took on the culture and heritage of my parents. But growing up I became to question where my real roots lie.
“Mom?” I asked in the seventh grade, “Where were my biological parents from?” she looked at me longingly and smoothed down my hair with a delicate pat.

That night I excitedly learned about my blood in Russia and Portugal. From my young middle school years to now, I love learning about foreign cultures especially in Asia and the Middle East. I would sit pondering what culture was my favorite and what one I felt I belonged to. Approaching high school I asked my teacher, “can you pick your culture?” standing in that vast classroom with maps plastered to the wall I learned a lot about myself. On the way home from school I reflected on my father’s morals and teachings, I loved what he preached. Although I know where I come from by blood, I feel the deepest comfort and joy practicing my father’s heritage.
The Middle Eastern culture is vastly different from American culture and also vastly unknown about. The majority of people’s knowledge is overcome by preconceived ideas that the Islamic and Arabic world is violent. In high school I stayed quiet about my father’s ethnicity to my friends until words lashed out at a Palestinian Muslim. It was a regular routine school day at lunch; we were all friends but were starting to grow apart. Some of the guys felt they had to stay rude and careless to be cool. I heard from across the table an impertinent comment about

terrorism.