Yesterday, somebody attacked Jussie Smollett also known as Jamal from Empire because he's gay and black. Thanks to Donald Trump, prejudiced people think they can act without consequences. They put a noose around his neck and called him racial and homophobic slurs.
When people do such a thing as put a noose around your neck, they aren't just being hateful. They want to break your spirit; to remove from you the very concept of ever being safe again.
I follow Jussie on Instagram, and he is just the bubbliest, happiest, gay light I have ever seen. Someone saw that light and thought, "I need to provide a bushel and make him shove his light right under it so it never illuminates anyone ever again."
I worry that after this, Jussie will lose that lightness of spirit that defines him. That, to me, is the saddest thing about this attack.
His physical injuries might heal, but how do you get over being reduced to a thing someone wants to hang up from a tree? These are the same people crying a river for dogs in China. But humans in America are fair game.
But hatred and prejudice is not just an American thing.
A few weeks ago, Kenya experienced another terrorist attack, and Al Shabaab took the blame. Of course the very next day a member of parliament was saying that "Somalis should go back home." Thankfully, that voice didn't become a chorus. Thankfully, Kenyans are a cynical lot who are not so simple-minded that they believe getting rid of an entire sub sector of people will solve terrorism. Somali refugees are not to blame for terrorism. Porous borders, corruption and poverty are.
When I wrote Cinderella by Any Other Name, I wasn't specifically looking to humanize Somali refugees or Muslims.
I love Muslims though.
I lived with them in Mombasa and they are just some of the most peaceful, generous and safe people I have ever lived among. Furthermore, I have never been sexually harassed by a Muslim man. I am a creature of habit and I tend to go to the same shops, fast food places, Mpesa agents, use the same boda boda guys and shop in the same kiosk. All the places I frequent where a man regularly works, I have been hit on at least once, as if me coming there more than once is some kind of signal that I'm interested.
Except for the Muslims.
My Muslim Somali Mpesa agent greets me politely every time, we transact and then he says thank you, I say thank you, he says you're welcome, and I smile and leave.
Every time.
He hasn't yet made some smarmy comment implying that I might be interested in him.
I feel safe with him. When I smile at him, I don't hold back out of fear that it might be misconstrued.
So yeah, making Nadia and her family Muslims felt right but also I haven't heard of any Christian Somali refugees.
This is not a political book.
This is not a social commentary.
But both of those things are part and parcel of the fabric of life and if anyone reading this book can look up and see a human being instead of a 'Muslim' or a 'Somali' when they look around them, that is a beautiful side effect of expanding your mind with stories that are out of your sphere of comfort.
So here, take my hand, journey with me.
If you're a Somali, a Muslim, a refugee or a woman reading Cinderella By Any Other Name, I would love to know if I got it right or I got it phenomenally, horribly, wrong.
When people do such a thing as put a noose around your neck, they aren't just being hateful. They want to break your spirit; to remove from you the very concept of ever being safe again.
I follow Jussie on Instagram, and he is just the bubbliest, happiest, gay light I have ever seen. Someone saw that light and thought, "I need to provide a bushel and make him shove his light right under it so it never illuminates anyone ever again."
I worry that after this, Jussie will lose that lightness of spirit that defines him. That, to me, is the saddest thing about this attack.
His physical injuries might heal, but how do you get over being reduced to a thing someone wants to hang up from a tree? These are the same people crying a river for dogs in China. But humans in America are fair game.
But hatred and prejudice is not just an American thing.
A few weeks ago, Kenya experienced another terrorist attack, and Al Shabaab took the blame. Of course the very next day a member of parliament was saying that "Somalis should go back home." Thankfully, that voice didn't become a chorus. Thankfully, Kenyans are a cynical lot who are not so simple-minded that they believe getting rid of an entire sub sector of people will solve terrorism. Somali refugees are not to blame for terrorism. Porous borders, corruption and poverty are.
When I wrote Cinderella by Any Other Name, I wasn't specifically looking to humanize Somali refugees or Muslims.
I lived with them in Mombasa and they are just some of the most peaceful, generous and safe people I have ever lived among. Furthermore, I have never been sexually harassed by a Muslim man. I am a creature of habit and I tend to go to the same shops, fast food places, Mpesa agents, use the same boda boda guys and shop in the same kiosk. All the places I frequent where a man regularly works, I have been hit on at least once, as if me coming there more than once is some kind of signal that I'm interested.
Except for the Muslims.
My Muslim Somali Mpesa agent greets me politely every time, we transact and then he says thank you, I say thank you, he says you're welcome, and I smile and leave.
Every time.
He hasn't yet made some smarmy comment implying that I might be interested in him.
I feel safe with him. When I smile at him, I don't hold back out of fear that it might be misconstrued.
So yeah, making Nadia and her family Muslims felt right but also I haven't heard of any Christian Somali refugees.
This is not a social commentary.
But both of those things are part and parcel of the fabric of life and if anyone reading this book can look up and see a human being instead of a 'Muslim' or a 'Somali' when they look around them, that is a beautiful side effect of expanding your mind with stories that are out of your sphere of comfort.
So here, take my hand, journey with me.
If you're a Somali, a Muslim, a refugee or a woman reading Cinderella By Any Other Name, I would love to know if I got it right or I got it phenomenally, horribly, wrong.
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