Guest Post by Amanda Williams

A recent interview with Kelsey Jaffer showed me insight into what it’s like to be a Pakistani teen living in America. The discrimination Kelsey has experienced her whole life shows the lack of uneducated Americans that have currently formed opinions on the middle eastern culture. The goal for Kelsey’s blog is that her readers walk away with at least knowing that even today, middle eastern individuals living in America are still discriminated against. Kelsey has personally never been professionally discriminated against. However, in her world of performing arts, being type casted has definitely become an issue. Kelsey would like future generations of Pakistani youth to not have to experience the discrimination. Once the people who grew up during the time period of 9/11 have passed, the discrimination will decrease. However, if these individuals spread their opinions onto their children the discrimination will continue. Americans need to become more educated in order for the middle-eastern discrimination to cease. Kelsey’s plan is to become successful within performing arts and once success becomes apparent, use her voice to educate Americans and stop the uneducated discrimination.

The Beginning of Discrimination Among Students Following 9/11

School can be a hostile place. Put a large number of kids together from extremely diverse backgrounds, families, and upbringings, and there is bound to be friction between the varying textures of their differences rubbing up against each other. For many Middle-Eastern or Muslim students in American schools, this friction has become much worse since the events of 9/11.
On September 15th, 2001, mere days after the destruction of the World Trade Center, the Seattle Times published an article regarding the opinions, thoughts, and fears of several middle and high school students of various backgrounds on the subject. The students expressed their sadness and concerns about what would happen as a result; all were in disbelief, and had varying opinions on what should be done in response to the tragedy. Some feared a third world war, and others were eager to see the U.S. retaliate.
Most of the thoughts expressed and stories shared were full of sorrow, confusion, compassion, and solemnity, such as one would expect. But some of the anecdotes revealed a less pensive, accusative underbelly to the repercussions among students; one that was already starting to breed prejudice. The older brother of ninth-grade Pakistani twins Anam and Rathore Maham had told them about some peers of his blaming the Pakistan for the tragedy in his presence. Nader Salha, a Palestinian middle-school student in the Seattle area, was asked if he and his family were happy about the events that had occurred. Maureen Driscoll, a senior at another high school, voiced her disgust at students using "racist and dehumanizing terms" to describe Middle-Eastern people, and making a big deal of cutting the turban off of a magazine clipping of a Middle-Eastern man. These events were recorded one day after the 9/11 tragedy.
Looking back, the speed at which racism and hostility towards people of Middle-Eastern descent was able to develop in schools immediately following 9/11 is astounding. It is hard to believe that these nasty things were said the day after the event. I, too, experienced this sudden wave of disdain in my school in the following days and years.
9/11 occurred when I was in first grade. I was bewildered by the event, and too young to understand the gravity of what had happened; all I knew was that some horrible people had blown up the World Trade Center for no good reason, and that many people had died. Though I don't remember it, my mother says that students in my class were asking me if I "knew the person who did it," or "if my dad was the man who drove the plane into the buildings." These questions and others like them apparently prompted me to come home from school one day and say, "Mommy, maybe it would be better if I wasn't around anymore." My mom was understandably horrified, and I had to see the school counselor for a few months afterwards in order to talk through the events and what people had said to me (Again, I remember none of this, but it evidently made a large impact on me at the time.)
On the bus ride to school one morning in seventh grade, I overheard the conversation of two boys sitting in front of me. They were discussing Al-Qaeda, and one of them said, "I think we should just kill all of the Pakistanis; that way, we KNOW Al-Qaeda's been taken care of!". The boys around them then began piping up with cries of "Yeah, let's kill the Pakistanis! Kill 'em all!" I could feel my face burning and my heart pounding with anger, and I leaned over to them and hissed, "Oh, so you wanna kill me, too? I'M Pakistani." The boys fell silent after that, but I felt like crying for the rest of the day.
With maturity and time, one would think that these immature comments would have stopped--at least I thought they would have. However, I was completely wrong. In my freshman year of high school, I made it into my school's top choir. I was overjoyed, and desperately wanted to fit in with all of the older choir members. One of the sophomore boys in choir with me assigned all four freshmen nicknames; one was Shades, one was Chipmunk, one was Prince Charming, and I was Our Little Terrorist. It didn't really bother me at the time it was given, but the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. I told my mom about the nickname, and she was none too happy about it, though it was intended to be lighthearted.
I have heard many other stories of people who are of Middle-Eastern descent--or even LOOK Middle-Eastern--being picked on  in this way in their schools. I think that, eleven years after 9/11, it's about time that schools began implementing more discipline on what is said in the classroom and in the hallways.

Middle-Eastern Stereotyping in American Pop Culture

In 2011, the St. Petersburg Times (now known as the Tampa Bay Times) published an article written by a Muslim-American high school student about being a Muslim-American teenager in the wake of the events of 9/11. The author, Noura Elsayed, talks about the struggle she has faced in recent years between being wholly Muslim and wholly American simultaneously; identifying herself with her conservative, peaceful religion and heritage, but also with the anger, fear, and sadness experienced universally by Americans at the shock of the 9/11 tragedy. Elsayed talks about how, unfortunately, American culture and pop culture has done little to clear up misconceptions about Islam and those who identify with it or the cultures that practice it, even though doing so is especially necessary during a time where ignorance has caused hatred of Midde-Eastern-Americans to soar. She even tells readers about a girl she knows who is afraid to tell people that she practices Islam for fear of negative repercussions.
Though I am a Christian rather than Muslim, I have many relatives who practice Islam, and I can identify with many of the issues Elsayed addresses.
Though it seems like prejudice towards those of Middle-Eastern descent in America flared in the years immediately following 9/11 and then cooled off, I can tell you firsthand that it hasn't cooled off; rather, like prejudice against any race, it has continued to burn at a less-noticeable-yet-still-potent level, coming out in offhand remarks and cultural stereotypes that are abused rather than used in media and popular culture. For example, a few years ago, popular comedian/ventriloquist Jeff Dunham premiered a character for his act named "Achmed the Dead Terrorist." While the act was intended to be silly and relatively harmless, it played on a bunch of negative stereotypes about Middle-Eastern people. The character of Achmed had a Middle-Eastern-ish accent, had a turban and beard, and identified himself as a terrorist, yelling out numerous times, "SILENCE! I KILL YOU!" The character's title is Achmed the Dead Terrorist, which would lead viewers to believe that the defining quality of the character is that he is a terrorist. However, most of the humor doesn't seem to center around that, but rather around his background, name, accent, and generally the fact that he is Middle-Eastern (it also implies at one point that Achmed is Muslim). If Achmed had not been Achmed but rather, say, Adam the Terrorist, and was white, many of the jokes wouldn't have translated. Achmed's "terrorist" occupation seems to me a thin veil over the real brunt of the joke: his exaggerated Middle-Eastern-ness. Whether intentional or not (and I truly do not think it is intentional), the act implies that a "terrorist", by definition, is Middle-Eastern--and less open-minded viewers may unconsciously take this for granted.
While many people may have found this funny, I did not. To most, this would seem like a mildly offensive, but humorous act. Yet the underlying tones of racial mockery may be taken as truth by some kinds of people, and that is where it crosses the line from lighthearted into dangerous. Media like this is a subtle encouragement of racial stereotyping and prejudice. While the public may not actively feel encouraged to think of Middle-Eastern people in such a way, humor like this tends to subtly desensitize people to stereotyping, especially negative stereotyping.
In addition, media like this can prompt questions such as, "Do you know any terrorists?"; questions that are not intentionally hurtful, but that are no doubt the brood of media like this that is not balanced out equally, in my opinion, by education about actual Middle-Eastern culture and Islam.
Elsayed is right in her disappointment of the portrayal of Muslims and people of Middle-Eastern descent in American pop culture. There is too much caricature and too little truth. However, I have seen in recent years an increasing number of people voicing their concerns about this issue; hopefully, things will be looking up soon.