And They Called Me Saddam

Exactly two years after 9/11 I came to school with a notion of insecurity far, far back in the depths of my mind, but it being so long since the last time I had to worry about being poked fun at, I had an overall aura of comfort within me. The schoolday started and the morning announcements asked for a moment of silence for the lives lost two years ago, and informed the school of a prayer that was to take place around the flag at lunch. Lunch came and I headed towards my designated eating spot, and I joined a clique-made circle, (or a Ku Klux Klan) and the conversation of 9/11 came up. One of the more immature kids looked at me and said, "Thanks alot, man," referring to me being middle-eastern. I ended up placing a fist on his lower jaw, but I got away with it. Even his friends said he deserved what hit him, literally.

Even within the culturally ingrained racism there is an air of sympathy and pity and Tartuffery that takes place within each individual, and it was at that moment, when the attacker's friends momentarily smote him for his words, that everyone became consciously aware of the morality of their actions. Nonetheless, the crowd dissolved and headed towards the flag pole to pray.

The monotone beep of the lunch bell rang and I went to my next class, physical education, changed into my outfit, and went out to the asphault to stretch in formation with the other kids. My P.E. teacher looked at me and said, "Did you read the news today?"

I responded with a No.

She said, "Well, you get a zero for the day."

I incredulously went through the rest of the period until we were on the grass playing some game or another, when I heard a loud voice scream, "Saddam!" from across the field. I looked over and my teacher was waving me over. I can't even recall what she told me, but I remember being too timid to report her.

At the time I felt one in a million in the worst way possible, not an idol, but a nail that stuck out too far. I hid in the shadows, but two years later I finally gained enough courage to deal with the surrounding darkness. And I did.