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Thursday, July 16, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com MICHIGAN IN COLOR
The implications of a dual-faithful
upbringing
The smoke of burnt incense
fills the measureless rows of pews
as
each
churchgoer
fervently
bows their head in intense prayer.
Stained-glass windows encompass
the brick sanctuary and I hear the
childrens’ choir singing “Amazing
Grace” — the inspiration for my
name.
In the evening, I drive to my
aunt’s house for Iftar, the meal
eaten after sunset during the
month of Ramadan. The sound of
the sizzling halal chicken on the
grill is drowned out by ardent con-
versations in Arabic, Chaldean,
English or a mix of all three. With
both sides of my family all together,
I become aware of the uniqueness
of my circumstances. Not many
people can say they began their day
in Catholic mass and end it with a
traditionally Muslim celebration.
I’ve had an uncommon fam-
GRACE GARMO
MiC Staff Writer
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what are you?
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Design by Hibah Chughtai
Within my first two weeks at
Michigan I was
asked by a drunk white frat
brother whether it was hard to see
out of my eyes (they were half way
squinty, not all the way there)
I was called ‘halfie’ and ‘wasian’
by a chinese woman whom I had
never met before — the conversa-
tion reminded me of the way one
discusses mutt dogs, cavapoos and
goldendoodles
And I was told by my good
friend, a black woman, that I wasn’t
really asian at all
So you tell me. Or rather, let me
tell you a story.
Tucked in a corner occupied by
unused wine glasses and those that
wear the blacks and whites of wait-
staff
Deep in the ugliness and insecu-
rity of high school
I knew a sweet boy, one who
smiled easy and had a lyricism to
his voice
Wide hands and long fingers,
worn from the burns of ovens or
stoves
Skin tanner than mine in those
spring days
VICTORIA MINKA
MiC Staff Writer
Between patrons, he watched
me intently
I felt his gaze on the corners of
my eyes and the arch of my skull
where it breaks into my hairline
Letting him look, I cleaned
glasses slowly
Studying each one, admiring
how it sat in my hand, stubbornly
holding on to scuffs and lint
what are you?
Stopping, I gazed up
White shirt loosely tucked in,
hands in apron, smiling lazily
I knew him but in this moment, I
saw many faces below his smile
Faces of my past, as well as those
of the future
Because this question never tires
itself, constantly circling and cir-
cling above my head.
In the english language, the use
of what indicates a holding of con-
tent—a description beyond simple
identification, but an explanation
of existence
To be asked what you are is to be
asked to justify your own place
Not through ownership of iden-
tity, but through those that brought
Photo by Madeline Hinkley
ily situation my entire life. I’m a
first-generation American with a
Catholic-raised father from Iraq
and a Muslim-raised mother from
Lebanon. Even though my extend-
ed family has been vastly accepting
and tolerant of our dual-religious
dynamic, I find it difficult to
explain to my friends, teachers and
even strangers that it is possible
to be raised inter-faithfully. This
notion was seemingly too complex
for the masses to comprehend. The
Muslim community viewed me as
a complete outsider and my Catho-
lic school classmates didn’t even
consider me to be a “real” Catho-
lic. I felt as though my completion
of Baptism and Confirmation was
invalidated merely because I didn’t
regularly attend Sunday mass.
Regardless of the unsolicited
criticism from my peers, I consid-
er myself vastly fortunate to have
been brought up with such reli-
gious duality. I learned religious
tolerance from a young age, and I
never devoutly practiced one reli-
gion or claimed I belonged to one.
Rather than my parents negotiat-
ing a settlement between Catholi-
cism and Islam, they celebrated
both and were transparent with the
differences between the two faiths
instead of surpressing one. Grow-
ing up surrounded by both Catholi-
cism and Islam has allowed me to
integrate two worldviews despite
the fact that both faiths have been
in conflict with one another my
entire life. In fact, as I emerge into
adulthood and further delve into
what I truly believe, I have gained
a greater sense of respect for my
parents for not coercing me to fol-
low a singular religion and allow-
ing me to make my own decisions
about what I believe. My dual-faith
upbringing has given me the free-
dom to compare and contrast in a
way which is often hardly encour-
aged in a single-faith setting.
Of course, there are myths that
growing up with two religions
causes a child to become confused
or forces them to ally with one
side, but in reality this couldn’t be
further from the truth. Both faiths
embrace certain truths which reso-
nate with me. Despite the absence
of my allegiance to one religion,
I have still been able to dissect
the aspects of each faith I feel as
though I truly believe in: humil-
ity, selflessness, courage, peace and
patience.
I’ve recognized the inherent
similarities of each religion, and I
don’t believe them to be so differ-
ent. At the end of the day, there will
always be Catholics and Muslims
who hold judgements against...
you here
What, rather than who, treats an
individual as a vessel, which can be
filled with so much contents
To be mixed race is to be hyper-
visible and yet deeply unplaceable
I am merely a cradle for this
unique blend of manifested fea-
tures,
The outcome of lack of belonging
An embodiment of distance from
homeland
Creation of those that stray from
origins
I am known for what I carry, but
never valued for who I am
Which is a deeply fragile state to
exist within
To be told, not in word but in
action, in the uncomfortable shift
of gazes
That I am hollow, worthless
without some sort of description
Relating more to the wine glass
than the person beside me
I provide extra care, forcing a
smile, bringing the glass’ spindly
neck to a shine, letting everything
that is me sink deep within, squint-
ing at its design
I tell him to guess
Because the only answer more
pleasurable for him than a real
explanation is a moment of mys-
tery, a fulfillment of fantasy
And my identity has always been
about fantasy
The story of how I came to be,
what fills me up, is more worthy
than the vessel which cradles it
Yet, I give it shape, but my
miracle of making it valuable and
attainable, the pearl of the matter,
quickly overshadows...