Suffering for the Horrendous Acts of a Few

By Nadia Sheikh

I am not a terrorist.

On 9/11, my world changed. I cried that day, after seeing so many people dying. I could not grasp how many children lost their parents that day.

For me, I lost a part of my identity.

People judge my dark brown hair, brown eyes and brown skin and assume too much.

When U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft warned people to report suspicious activities to the police, his words encouraged the public to scrutinize Middle Eastern and Muslim families. At the time, I didn’t realize his words could affect my life.

In early June, my 8-year-old sister, Noor, was assigned to take pictures of “landmarks” in my hometown of Lake Oswego. Unfortunately, Noor didn’t remember her homework till late in the evening.

My dad, Noor and I drove around town taking pictures of the post office, fire stations, a park and a local market. Two weeks later, we got an early morning visit from two FBI agents following up on a call about a “questionable Middle Eastern family snooping around the fire department.”

Following procedure, the agents had driven by our house a week before, only to find my sister’s chalk drawings of flowers and suns on our driveway. That helped the FBI come to the conclusion that we’re “good people.”

I remembered a Supreme Court case that ruled that the FBI can wiretap phones with a court order. I wondered whether our phones were tapped. I also wondered what would have happened if a Caucasian family had taken the pictures. Would the phone call reporting us to authorities have been made?

I understand why the agents had to do this. I know the government must do its job to keep everybody safe, including me.

The visit surprised me, though, because I don’t consider myself a typical Muslim. I don’t wear the hijab (head covering) or pray five times a day, but I do value the Islamic principles and I know how to read Arabic.

I am suffering for the horrendous acts of a few terrorists representing a minority of Muslims. In a nation where more than 2 million Muslims reside, I ask fellow Americans to look at the meaning of the word Islam: submission to Allah (God). A religion that asks its followers to pray five times a day, to fast a month out of every year, to give money to the poor and to keep family a priority, cannot promote terrorism. It’s ludicrous.

We are Americans just like everyone else. You shouldn’t rely on race or religion to determine how American you are.

As strange as it sounds, I believe good things have come out of Sept. 11 for me. For the past two years, my mom was the president of the Islamic Society of Greater Portland. I joined her as a youth coordinator, helping to organize dinners that brought Muslims together with people from local synagogues and churches.

My family is lucky to have understanding neighbors and friends who accept us. As Americans, we need each other. Race and religion are not barriers, but bridges.

I want people to accept Nadia Sheikh, a citizen of the United States of America. And in case you wanted to know; No, I’m not a terrorist.

I’m just me.

Nadia Sheikh will be a junior at Lake Oswego High School in Oregon. Her essay first appeared in the Mercury, published by the University of Oregon’s Summer Workshop for Minority High School Journalists. It also appeared in the Oregonian, Oregon’s largest newspaper.

On May 15th American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) Foundation of Oregon, University of Oregon School of Journalism and Communications and the Greater Oregon Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists Presented the 2004 Student Press Freedom Award (first prize) to Nadia Sheikh for Courageous Journalism in support of Civil Liberties.

Editor's Note: Do you want to know how old I feel? I went to elementary school with Naida's mom. I was in first grade and she was a bit older. All the kids rode in a horse drawn buggy till our community bought us a van. No, we are not that old. Our parents lived in the boonies that year. I remember Nadia's grand parents, and great grand prents as people of great refinement. Some things just run in the family. -- Jawad