The other day I was travelling on a bus. The route of the bus travels through a predominantly Lebanese/Arabic neighbourhood, and at one stop a man and his son boarded the bus. Both the man and the boy were dressed in the fashion of the current suspect of the Bali bombings, Abu Bakar Bashir (sp?), i.e. the white long robe style outfit with the white ‘pillbox’ type headdress.
It’s my nature to sometimes smile at a person who makes eye contact when passing me. Neither the boy nor the man did, but that’s not why I’m writing this. When the man got on the bus I felt both a sense of unease and fear. There was nothing in his mannerism to suggest I should be fearful of him; his face was stern, but most people walk around that way, so that was not a contributing factor. I sat there wondering whether he came from a background that treated women like second-class citizens. I wondered whether I would have smiled had he looked at me. I wondered whether he was as arrogant as his expression portrayed Lastly, I wondered whether he was a terrorist. I was judging this man solely on his appearance – was I being fair?
It then reminded me of another incident that happened some time ago when I was travelling to work late on the train one morning. Two Muslim women, one young, one old, and an older teenage male (Middle Eastern looking) entered the same carriage. They sat within earshot, but even if they hadn’t, the male spoke loud enough for anyone in that carriage to hear. During the entire trip he was speaking to the young girl in the rudest manner I’ve ever witnessed. He was barking orders at her as to which train to catch home, what time she should be home, what was to be done when she got home and basically how to proceed through the day. She must have made eye contact with him at one stage because he threatened to slap her across the face if she did it again. His voice was raised because he wanted the rest of the people on the carriage to know ‘who was boss’. I knew this because from the corner of my eye, when he did threaten the girl, he glanced in my direction to make sure that I was listening. In this case also I felt fear. I did not look in his direction for that very reason. There was another woman who got off at a station earlier and when she passed me, we exchanged a look of horror and understanding of what we were both thinking. She shook her head and got off the train. I had to listen to his barrage for a few more stops. By the time he got off the train I hated him. Again, I wondered what would I have done had I been a male? Indeed, if I were a male, would I have even felt the same?
Now when I see a gathering of males of Middle Eastern appearance - which is becoming fairly common where I live - I honestly feel a strong sense of fear. I know that this fear is leading to hatred. What worries me is that, as a peace loving person, imagine how the people who are not quite so peaceful are reacting.
In the news lately there have been reports of a number of assaults on Muslim women – mainly pulling off their scarves, spitting at them and telling them to go back to their own country. I believe this current type of vilification stems from the convictions of the Lebanese gang rapists who chose their victims because they were Australian. The 55-year gaol term made the front pages of the news and it highlighted the problems between the races.
September 11 shocked me as much as the next person, but I did not suffer personal loss of any kind. However, now, when I hear a low flying plane overhead, it’s the first thing that comes to mind. I cannot begin to comprehend the ramifications of that day for the victims and what they are enduring and will continue to endure.
I’m just an everyday Jane Doe. I haven’t been touched by tragedy by any acts of terrorism. If I’m feeling these things, how is everyone else coping? Men will have different perspectives than the women. How do you all feel about this everyday kind of reminder? Is anyone else questioning himself or herself? I’d like to hear about what you think is a fair way to look at the problem, because I just don’t know anymore.
Thanks,
Teri
It’s my nature to sometimes smile at a person who makes eye contact when passing me. Neither the boy nor the man did, but that’s not why I’m writing this. When the man got on the bus I felt both a sense of unease and fear. There was nothing in his mannerism to suggest I should be fearful of him; his face was stern, but most people walk around that way, so that was not a contributing factor. I sat there wondering whether he came from a background that treated women like second-class citizens. I wondered whether I would have smiled had he looked at me. I wondered whether he was as arrogant as his expression portrayed Lastly, I wondered whether he was a terrorist. I was judging this man solely on his appearance – was I being fair?
It then reminded me of another incident that happened some time ago when I was travelling to work late on the train one morning. Two Muslim women, one young, one old, and an older teenage male (Middle Eastern looking) entered the same carriage. They sat within earshot, but even if they hadn’t, the male spoke loud enough for anyone in that carriage to hear. During the entire trip he was speaking to the young girl in the rudest manner I’ve ever witnessed. He was barking orders at her as to which train to catch home, what time she should be home, what was to be done when she got home and basically how to proceed through the day. She must have made eye contact with him at one stage because he threatened to slap her across the face if she did it again. His voice was raised because he wanted the rest of the people on the carriage to know ‘who was boss’. I knew this because from the corner of my eye, when he did threaten the girl, he glanced in my direction to make sure that I was listening. In this case also I felt fear. I did not look in his direction for that very reason. There was another woman who got off at a station earlier and when she passed me, we exchanged a look of horror and understanding of what we were both thinking. She shook her head and got off the train. I had to listen to his barrage for a few more stops. By the time he got off the train I hated him. Again, I wondered what would I have done had I been a male? Indeed, if I were a male, would I have even felt the same?
Now when I see a gathering of males of Middle Eastern appearance - which is becoming fairly common where I live - I honestly feel a strong sense of fear. I know that this fear is leading to hatred. What worries me is that, as a peace loving person, imagine how the people who are not quite so peaceful are reacting.
In the news lately there have been reports of a number of assaults on Muslim women – mainly pulling off their scarves, spitting at them and telling them to go back to their own country. I believe this current type of vilification stems from the convictions of the Lebanese gang rapists who chose their victims because they were Australian. The 55-year gaol term made the front pages of the news and it highlighted the problems between the races.
September 11 shocked me as much as the next person, but I did not suffer personal loss of any kind. However, now, when I hear a low flying plane overhead, it’s the first thing that comes to mind. I cannot begin to comprehend the ramifications of that day for the victims and what they are enduring and will continue to endure.
I’m just an everyday Jane Doe. I haven’t been touched by tragedy by any acts of terrorism. If I’m feeling these things, how is everyone else coping? Men will have different perspectives than the women. How do you all feel about this everyday kind of reminder? Is anyone else questioning himself or herself? I’d like to hear about what you think is a fair way to look at the problem, because I just don’t know anymore.
Thanks,
Teri